#ed content by jess

[indouloureux]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

summary: your best-friend’s pretty. really fucking pretty. especially when he’s got his eyeliner smudged all over his eyes from crying too much, or when he’s got scratch marks over his inked skin, or when his begging moans make him hotter than hellfire

warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, sub!eddie kinda, mommy kink, overstimulation, protected sex, oral (m receiving), degradation kink(slut, whore), dirty talk, dacryphilia, biting, ball sucking (hehe), praise kink, maybe mean!dom reader, rough sex, aftercare??? multiple orgasms lol MINORS GO AWAY (not proofread. rushed)

a/n: idk man, this took a long time to write for some reason but i hope you guys like this because it took a long time okay! and ball sucking. tumblr got me horny for eddie munson's ballsack so i put it in here. enjoy. also thank u for 4k mwah mwah i love u all!

— proofread by my mi amor jess <3 (@cordiformity)

MASTERLIST

The sound of the car turning on makes the both of you raise your hands in a farewell, Wayne Munson’s silhouette inside the tinted window waves back at you and Eddie, pulling out of the driveway, wheels scraping on the gravel road outside of your home.

“Bye, Uncle Wayne!” you yell, hands cupping your mouth for a better volume. Eddie waves still, arm stretched out in the hot air, rings clinking and glinting in the hot sun as he hovers you. “I’ll miss you! You’re the better Munson!”

“Asshole,” Eddie jabs your ribs. You poke your tongue at him, turning around to go back inside your home, a hand hovering behind you as he leads you through the door before he follows and shuts it behind him. “You invite me over and you’re saying I’m the worse Munson?”

“I’m basing off the truth, dungeon master,” you bump your hips with his, leading him to the stairs. His dirty sneakers thump on the creaking stairwell, hand dragging up the rail as you look back at him. “Who’s got the working car? Who’s got better morale?”

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread. 

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread. 

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread. 

“Alright, Eds.” You offer your hand, rings shown that matched his – the same skull on your ring finger, a snake coiled around the middle, and a daintier one connected to your bracelet through a chain. He vaguely remembers being with you when you bought it, having to be too distracted with something else he also can’t remember. “Whip it out and let’s suck.”

Almost fooled by your racy insinuation, Eddie lifts his ass up and searches for the ziplock in his pocket, tongue massaging his upper teeth as he pulls the plastic out and shows you what you’re asking for. “You’re still paying for that.”

You scoff, snatching it from him before you pull out a crumpled twenty from your pocket. “You know I always do.”

“You always do?” he sits up, forearms behind him. Eddie’s curls loose the sticky perspiration, now flowing behind him when he shakes his head at you. You slap the bill on his palm. “(y/n), you owe me like, fifty bucks. Minus ten because you beat that sicko from the band auditions.”

“It was supposed to be a gift,” you whine, throwing your head back. “I thought we were friends, Eddie?”

“We are,” he kicks his shoes off, and he half thinks he might have already lost them in the pile of clothes. “But I need money, too. No money, and we spend the rest of our life being driven back and forth by my uncle. And you know he hates it when we smoke.”

“Which is why I keep on telling you to convince him to smoke weed,” you open your drawer. “That way you can at least emancipate the stress you give him,” you jest, searching beneath used notebooks until you spot a crutch. “I- fuck I kind of forgot how to roll a joint. Can you do it?”

Eddie sniffs, side of his finger rubbing his nostrils. “You’re gonna do it now? That’s like, a half ounce. You finish it way faster than I do,” he sits up. “Just smoke a cig with me instead.”

Your hands drop to your sides, giving him a dismayed look before you’re opening the drawer once more and tossing the ziplock and clutch back inside, making sure it’s hidden beneath a notebook.

“I’d rather not,” you slump your head on the table. “I wanna get high. That’s why I invited you here in the first place.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s the third time you’ve hurt me, (y/n).”

He sits up, the veins on his forearm catching your attention. Tendrils bulging against the tattoo on his skin, blood pumping in the same beat your heart does as you stare at them with a watering mouth before they drive down to his clenching hands that reach for the boombox, toying with the antennas before Eddie looks at you.

“You still got the tapes? Or you sold them just to pay me?” he snickers, kicking your foot. You sneer at him, kicking him much harder that simulates a groan from him. “Please tell me you have at least Judas Priest in there. I’ve had enough listening to a-ha. I have the lyrics stuck in my head that I forgot the chords to Master Of Muppets.” You glare at him. “You know? Take on meeee…?”

“Yeah. I know what that song is,” While eyes impishly glare at him, you reach for the bag beneath your desk, black almost gray from the specks of dust surrounding it. Eddie watches your hand dig into the filthy bag, looking as if you’re carding through a literal trash can before you pull out three mixtapes that he gave you a couple months ago, Kate Bush and Foreigner falling to the ground as you pull them up.

“Blizzard of Ozz,” you smack the cassette in Eddie’s open palm, a stinging clap echoing around the corners of your small bedroom. “For the one and only Osbourne wannabe.”

“Kate Bush, huh?” Eddie opens the cassette player, shoving the tape carelessly inside. “Red tell ya to listen to it?” he asks, slamming the cassette holder shut and turns the volume louder, like you hadn’t received complaints from the loud ‘satanic’ music; you don’t care, anyway, it’s music nonetheless. Your friend spins in a riveting twirl, hair spinning cavalierly into the air-conditioned wind, before he stops to face you with a thespian look, mouthing the lyrics.

You yell over the music. “Max says she could change the world!”

Eddie snorts. “People look at me and say ‘is the end near, when is the final day?’” He takes a brush from your cup holder, holding it like a microphone. You guffaw at him, watching as a hand comes down to his chest before he runs around your room, stepping on the discarded clothes and crumpled papers on the ground. “What’s the future of mankind? How do I know, I got left behind.”

“Hey!” you shout at him through the zeitgestical piece of joint electrical guitars and drums, his feet taking him to your mattress sunken, exhorting him to jump up and down like a giddy child. “Get down!”

“Come on, bats,” his hand’s still up as an offer. “Ozzy wannabe wants to make the most metal concert ever inside your garbage bedroom.” Eddie air guitars like a loser, fingers mimicking the same chords of the song and imitating riffs as if he was in a metal concert. “Don’t just sit in the crowd. Be a part of the show.”

“Do you often say that to five drunks?” you quip. “I’d rather stay here than break my neck, Eddie.”

“Fine,” he jumps off, landing right on his feet where you see his left one bending the slightest at the hard impact. His inept body refuses him to sit still, and is now telling him to touch the items on your desk as you sit and watch him poke and prod like he’s shopping. “Let’s do something else that doesn’t make you so boring.”

“I’m not boring!” you exclaim, gawping at him. “I’m fun! Sorry for making sure you don’t die in my bedroom. Because if you did, I’d leave you here to rot with the rest of my clothes. Then I’ll steal your car and drive away to California.”

“You just worry too much,” Eddie pulls on your hand, indolently limp in his touch. “Sing with me, bats. Ozzy Osbourne awaits.” when you shake your head, he sighs disappointedly; almost in a way that’s so dramatic that you think he’s not actually sad about your refusal. “Alright. Then, let’s do something that you think is fun other than using me for getting high.”

You pout at him, now clasping at his forearm for forgiveness. “Aw. Eds, I don’t use you. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

Two words that compress his chest so tight he feels the pain ricocheting in his inked limbs. Eddie plasters this pain he doesn’t know why he feels when you call him your best friend by a short laugh, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah yeah. Think of something before I go find somewhere else fun.”

“Don’t you just wanna lay down beside me while we listen to Ozzy Osbourne? You used to do that!”

“Bats,” he bends, face leveled with yours as his lips disappear into his mouth, forming a straight line. “I’m extremely bored without my van. I need to do something before I lose my mind entirely. I mean, you wouldn’t like seeing me—” his fingers join together, both hands placing them on either side of his head before he mimics the sound of an explosion, fingers splaying apart. “—all bloody and open headed, right? I could just drop my blood down to your carpet. Or, well, what used to be a carpet.”

You kick a few items away to show your dark cerulean carpet. Eddie’s upper lip curls up in slight disgust. “The color’s always…like that.” you wave it off. “I clean it like, once a year? I dunno. I’ll clean up my shit after you leave.”

“You should,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Now find something interesting to do.”

“Fine,” you grunt. “I have something in mind. But if you don’t want to do it, then it’s your loss.”

-

In the last seven years of your friendship, not once have you imagined sitting on Eddie Munson’s lap. 

Sure. Maybe you’ve hugged. But it’s just a hug. All friends do that. Friends snuggle when they’re stoned, they kiss each other’s cheeks as a rushed farewell. Maybe talking about masturbation was another thing but it was normal. You’ve seen each other half-naked — he helped you pick your bra before a date, and you got him a decent pair of underwear before girls would blow him. It’s a normal best friend thing.

Sitting on each other’s lap? It’s become romanticized in cheesy rom coms. And you see its point. With the minimal space between your bodies, crotches almost on top of each other, and the air so thick with unearthed tension that you’re wary and nervous at every move you do.

The liquid kohl paints his pale skin, a flawed darkness that mends conveniently into his eccentric vogue that he possesses valiantly with pride. Eddie’s eyes bore into you, scanning each pore, or the light hair above your top lip. Mostly into your eyes that don’t directly look into his — the way your pupils dilate and shrink every so often; and sometimes he’d cheekily glance down your lips, where the tip of your tongue would poke out, which gallops his blood all over his body into an intense heat. And fuck, how long is this going to take?

His hands grasp your waist tightly, keeping you in place. Your thigh on his, drawing around his vast eyes that perceive. Ozzy Osbourne sings from the mixtape Eddie changed—your mixtape that he made for you, a mechanized voice bringing you into the stage instead of the crowd — makes you feel like you’re in a show playing house with your best friend. It makes Eddie squirm gently in his seat, almost letting you muck up what you’ve done.

“Sit still,” your hand grips his cheeks, harshly forcing him into looking at you and keeping his face pliant beneath your touch, making his lips pucker a little. “You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “It kinda tickles.”

“The brush?”

“Yeah,” his nails scratch your back slightly. “It’s like a feather touching my eyes or something. How long is this going to take?”

Eddie sees your eyebrows furrow in slight frustration at his impatience, your hand shaking in the slightest. “Almost done, Munson.” you mutter, lips parting the slightest that shows just a sliver of your pearls.

The situation is familiar, albeit it’s not him that you’re sitting on. Eddie’s mind varies through a manifold of haunting memories, until it settles on the one that bestows him a roll of undefined covetousness. It makes him grip your waist tighter as the memory of you sitting on another boy’s lap fills his mind, in this exact activity. Eddie feels this confusing jealousy run through him when he remembers you kissing that boy with his eyeliner all smudged up.

You sense his sudden rigidness, the hitching on his breath. “What’s wrong?” you murmur, brush stopping on the outer corner of his eye. 

“Nothing,” he widens his eyes a bit. “Just…remembered something.”

“What is it?”

He watches you move again, feeling the cold brush on the crinkles beside his eyes, curving upward. “When- when you and Harrison Mcline were in the back of the classroom making out,” he laughs gently. “You were putting eyeliner on him too for the school play. He looked a lot like David Bowie with it, though. But I bet I look way cooler than him.”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Harrison Mcline is a douchebag,” you claim, nail digging deep into his cheek he thinks he’ll see a crescent indent on his flesh. Eddie looks into your eyes, full of annoyance at the sudden memory, before it shifts into embarrassment. “He’s an arrogant dickhead who trusts his pulling out ‘skills’ and kept insisting he was allergic to condoms just so he could fuck me raw. And also, you do look better.”

Heat waves through his cheeks and ears as Eddie laughs out of sympathy, but mostly to make fun of your unfortunate encounter. “Told you you shouldn't have gone for him. You’re planning on fucking Mcline? Cheer squad says he’s got a dick the size of an eraser.” 

“Well, it’s not like I have any options, do we?” you snicker, brushing his eyelashes with the side of your finger before you’re back to painting the inner corner of his eye, tainting his opal skin black. “What goody-two-shoes of a man would want to fuck a girl who’s part of the ‘satanic panic’?” you wave your hand to gesture to yourself. “And I did not know that.”

“Jason Carver’s been eyein’ you lately,” he teases, eyebrows wiggling the slightest. “As well as Steve Harrington when we’d rent a shitty movie. Even Gareth!”

“Jason Carver is with Chrissy Cunningham, and he keeps on insisting that this whole metal thing is just a phase. Steve Harrington only eyes me because I’m with you. And I’m older than Gareth! It’s disgusting, he’s like my little brother.” you tilt your head at him, Eddie wincing at your thoughts about your friend. “This pious town doesn’t fuck with, and I quote, cult members. I can't even find a decent one out there.”

In a drunken momentum, his eyes trace the v-shaped column of your neck that connects to your collarbone, prominent as his irises desecrate the components of every imperfection on your skin, minus the tattoos — the unorthodox stygian tattoos so unsaint, skulls and horns sinking deep into your flesh you might as well be the Devil’s little wayward angel. The hand behind you traces the waistline of your jeans, feeling your skin that’s exposed when your shirt has risen up from your back being slouched to hover over his head. 

Eddie kicks a shirt out of his way — a cut tank top with the painted devil from the Hellfire Shirt to appear more punk (one he remembers you wore when you snuck into the community pool, jumping into the chlorine water with nothing but that shirt and a pair of denim shorts, gave him a goddamn boner when your bare tits poked out). “There’s some decent guys out there.”

He wants to say ‘me’, however not in an amorous way. Simply the mind that hasn't seen any cunt for the past month, and he’s desperate to the point he’d literally fuck his best friend. But maybe hidden beneath that word could mean something deeper, something he’s chosen to deny and decides to forget about. Eddie knows it’s wrong; to imagine you, his dear friend for ozzy knows how long, all bent and spread for him to fuck because he’s horny. But who wouldn't? 

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “You almost fucked that mom from the community pool back summer. And that junkie who blew you when she came to your show and thought a blowjob was enough of a payment for weed.” He feels the rough pad of your thumb rub a spot beside his eye, stinging slightly. 

“She gives really good head,” he nods slightly. “ ‘m just saying, sweetheart. You just need to look hard.”

“Oh yeah?” you take your eyeliner away from his eyes, snapping the cap back in place before your hands rest on his shoulders. “Like you? Because I think that your little friend—”

Your finger drags down his chest, movement sedated and teasing, nail scraping on the printed typography before they press deep into the thick flesh of his torso, trailing down like you’re exploring uncharted territories. They come across his thighs, hard and thick, short nails scratching the denim before you tease and sink deeper, feeling up the sudden rock in his pants that presses right onto your crotch.

Eddie blames you for the hard on in, had you not been subtly grinding on it for the past minute or so when you were applying eyeliner, acting nonchalantly when he felt so constrained in his tight jeans. His bottom lip feels so raw from all the biting he’s done just to not moan out loud. And it feels sick — perverted — to have a boner when your best friend sits on your lap.

“—kind of agrees with me,” you trace his bulge, unevenly round and thick, your hand wanting to squeeze but you spare him the insanity. “He’s been poking out ever since I sat on your lap. I think he wants you to say that you need some help.”

“And I think I’m the only one who can know what my dick says,” he sneers, his hand coming out from behind you to grasp your forearm and run his thumb on the inked bats on your skin. “And he says he’s perfectly fine staying inside until he gets home and feels the love of my hand.”

You tut, pouting as you brush the hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ears, bangs unruly on his forehead that it almost pokes his pretty eyes. “Shame,” you pop the eyeliner back on your cup, chastely placing your hands on his shoulders instead. “Would have been happy to help.”

His saliva sticks to the walls of his throat, blocking the next words from coming out because holy fucking shit, you’re flirting with him. Or he thinks you’re flirting with him. Because friends don’t flirt, right? Best friends, as you so proudly say to others. Best friends don’t flirt, or offer to get rid of someone’s fucking boner; he shouldn’t feel this proverbial hunger towards you, like the words that had rolled off your tongue was a drop of water that rolls down his throat, still leaving him thirsty.

“Tsk,” he chuckles dryly, palms running up and down your bare thighs. You expected him to say something else, but it seemed like he’s at a loss for words whenever you graze his bulge when you adjust your seat to remove the numbness of your calf. You feel like the senile chair would snap it legs and drop you into this void of just him and you, left alone to be stubborn and in denial. 

“I could, though,” you murmur, fingers grazing his slightly coarse hair. “I can h-help you. With your problem. I don’t mind.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs heavily, his hot breath fanning your face. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to just because I got a boner while you’re on top of me.”

“It’s not that,” you grip his shoulders tightly, trying to stop yourself from grinding again. Because god, fuck, if you had a dick of your own, you’d be as hard as him. “It’s just a friendly offer. Both of us hadn’t had fuck since last month and, well, we’re here now, are we? Might as well just…get on with it.”

It’s atrociously fun, your offer. Because even though you’d agree to forget about it in the end, both of you would certainly not forget about it. Eddie knows nothing would be the same if he agreed, if he acted like he’s wanted to fuck you for ages. You’d know with the way he’d act, with the way he speaks, that he’s always yearned for it, and he’s afraid it would cause a strain to your friendship. But fuck—you’re offering it yourself; and he’d cut his own dick off if he ever denied the chance. 

Giving in into having sex with you just because he hasn’t had a decent fuck in a while? Was it selfish, maybe, even if he knows it’s going to change everything. But hey, the chance is right in front of him.

Eddie’s silence deludes you into thinking that he might have been disgusted by your offer. You don’t see the way his pupils widen and shrink ever so often, and it makes you remove your hands from his shoulders and sigh. “You know what? Forget about it. I don’t even know why I said that,”

“Hey,” he reaches out to clasp your wrist when you stand up to leave. Your right leg’s on the ground, the other still bent beside his thigh. Eddie looks up at you with unsure eyes, thumb running along your pulse point. “I was…going to say why not.”

Your lips part. “Really?”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows furrow and his nose wrinkles as he says it, urging you to sit back on his lap by the gentle pull on your hand. “I mean, you know, it’s just a one time thing, right? We can- we can act like it never happened after. Unless, you don’t want to.”

You don’t know if he’s saying all of that to spare your feelings, or if he wants the same thing you do—being fuck buddies, and whatnot, until you’d both come to terms that you actually like each other. But maybe that’s just your fantasy that he felt the same way you did, and that Eddie’s only saying yes because he’s just as deprived as you are.

“We don’t have to think about that now,” you sit gently on his thighs. The hand that he doesn’t hold tugs on the thread hanging on the bottom of your shirt, fingers twirling and pulling slightly. “We can just have sex. Then, let’s think about it after. That way we can see if- we can continue it or…not.”

Eddie’s looking directly into your eyes, right where you can see the specks of concupiscent dust glaze his brown eyes. And somehow, your faces are so close yet so far, with the way you feel the very tips of his eyelashes graze your cheeks ever so softly when he blinks. 

“Great idea,” he says. And his hand hovers like he debates on cupping your face or holding your waist again. 

“You can hold me,” you take his hands, placing them on your waist. “I’m not gonna bite,”

“Oh, I know you won’t,” he chuckles, sighing deeply when you bite your lip. “‘Y too soft to bite.”

You pull away, though still your faces are still close. Eddie’s bemused by the incredulity on your face, the way your parted lips etch into a feigned offended smile. “I’m too soft to bite?” you repeat, nails scraping on his exposed arms before you suddenly tangle your hand in his hair and pull harshly; lo and behold, he whimpers. “Aw, look at that. He made a sound.”

“That’s because it hurt,” he snaps, chest heaving against yours. “How would you react when I pull on your hair?”

“The same thing,” your other hand pushes his hair behind his ear, pouting at him. “I would have moaned like you did,”

Eddie’s nostrils flare, eyes darkening. “Fuck you.”

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, you tug on his hair again and fuck, he whimpers. “No, I fuck you.” Your nails scrape his scalp, Eddie digging his own at your skin. “What, you think just because I offered I’d let you use me? That’s not how it works, sweetie.”

You pull back, your hand still in his hair before you lean in to kiss him hard on his chapped lips. 

It’s sultry, in that exchange of hot breaths between open mouths and teeth clashing. Eddie grunts against you when you coincide with your hip rolling each time your lips close around his. Judas Priest replaces Ozzy Osbourne’s yelling rasps, Love Bites deep thrumming like the chime of a bell cascades the ambience of the moment. You’re bold when your tongue slips past his lips to tackle his, sinking deeper that your nose bends on his cheek.

It’s new and it’s scary to kiss your best friend with the crisp trepidation of the future of your friendship. Because yeah, a simple kiss can change everything. It’s not chaste, it’s not for comfort, it’s not by accident; you’d both agreed to it, and it's unbeknownst to the both of you what the kiss truly meant to either of you. It’s driving you insane.

Your mind buzzes in delirium as you feel his shirt, wrinkles and damp from the sweat. He’s humming and he’s grunting with the wet clicks of your rapacious lips. And Eddie’s had enough, his hands coming down to grip the back of your thighs tightly, standing up from the chair and wrapping your legs around his waist. You fall heavily with him, your back landing on your crumpled sheets, his crotch immediately grinding against yours like a payback.

You moan, tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck. “Fuck,”

“What’s that, bats?” he taunts. “You fuck me? Say it again, sweetheart,” he rolls his hips deeper, bulge pressing right on you. “Say it. That you’ll fuck me. If you can, I’ll let you. If you don’t,” Eddie bites gently at your bottom lip, letting it go and watches as it pops right back. “Guess I'll have to be in control.”

Unpleased by his teasing, you push on his shoulders. Eddie falls back, body pinned to the mattress when you straddle his stomach, your hands gripping his wrists. “I fuck you,” you repeat, jaw clenching. “I’m in charge, you hear me?”

You don’t wait for his answer, because your hands are bringing themselves down to tug on his collar, pulling them apart until the weak shirt rips in half. Eddie’s eyes widen at the rip, lifting his head to press his chin on his neck as he looks at your damage. He laughs. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my favorite shirt,”

“I can get you a new one,” you say quickly, placing your palms beneath his chest to admire the tattoos on his fair skin. You lean back down to kiss him on his lips, gently this time, before you drag your lips down to his red cheeks, to his jawline where the faintest of a stubble begins to grow. Eddie exhales, the faint touch of your finger enough to send heat all over his chest. The Demon stares directly at you when you scrape your nails on the black art, punishing and guiding. “This still creeps me out, by the way,”

Eddie looks at the tattoo, frowning. “It’s still cool,”

His eyeliner smudges a little, making his eyes almost caliginous in his own wanton abyss. You press your lips right on the tattoo, coming down to teasingly nip at his nipple before your hands cup his pecs. And you grind on him again, your ass on his crotch and your covered cunt on the flat of his stomach as you let your hand drive up to splay across his chest. 

“Christ, (y/n),” he groans impatiently. “Stop fucking dry humping me.”

“Yeah, well, what is it, Eddie?” you cock your head at him. “Who are you telling that to, hm? Christ or me?”

He sits up, hips jutting to yours that elicits a hushed moan from you. Eddie’s hands prop him up from behind, leaning up to kiss you feverishly again. “You,” he answers, shaking his head at you. “But I think (y/n)’s too formal. ‘Bats’ is too sentimental. I like to…spice things up. There’s a reason why I never call you by your name during DnD, sweets,” he lets one hand go, taking your cheek into his palm. “Whatcha say? Let’s try something new other than bats. Like…like mommy.”

Your rutting slows down a bit, uneven by surprise. You turn your head to him, and he almost comes undone with the way your eyes almost blacken by the dilation of your pupils—the way little glints of arousal light your eyes. Eddie bites his lip when the hand beneath his collarbone nears his neck until you're digging your fingers on either side of his neck. 

“Mommy, huh?” you deride. “I like the sound of that,” you bounce lightly, and you smile when he moans lowly. “You gonna let mommy do whatever she wants? Because I think it was fucking filthy of you to get a boner when I was on your lap,” Eddie lays back down, his hands gripping your ass. “And mommy wants to punish you for a bit, is that alright?”

He nods. “Y-yes.”

You crawl down slowly. “Yes what?”

Eddie whines softly, his palm resting on the thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. “Yes mommy.” he grunts. “Still gonna call you bats, though. Feels uncanny,”

“Commit to it,” you unbuckle his jeans, handcuffs clicking as you do so. “Don’t be shy and naughty, Eddie. You wanted it.”

He lifts up, helping you tug his jeans down. Eddie could care less if you lose his jeans in the pile of clothes on the ground, because you’re beneath him. You’re not exactly kneeling—a sight he’d kill for—but seeing your face hovering over his cock hidden by his briefs was enough to make his mouth water and suppress a loud moan. Eddie breathes heavily when you press a kiss on top of his bulge, looking so cherubic and innocent it’s driving him insane.

Now you are mine, In my control. One taste of your life, and I own your soul

You sing it against him, exhaling at each worth that your hot breath makes him jolt. Eddie whines, looking down at you to see that you’re hooking your fingers on the band of his briefs, tugging them down until his feet slip past the holes and you’re throwing it aside. 

Amused by the sight of your tongue licking your lips at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his happy trail, a glob of precum leaking down to land on the coarse hair above his dick. Eddie’s hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face. “‘S not fair that I’m naked and you’re still clothed.”

“Patience,” you scoff, leaning back to shed your shirt. You shiver when your bare tits feel the air conditioned air nip at your exposed nipples, but you smirk when Eddie gawps at the sight of you being bare chested and kneeling at the end of your bed right in front of his cock. 

Not once did he imagine the sound of a zipper going down could excite him this much, but fuck, your removing your shorts and tossing it at him. Eddie catches it, shamelessly bunching it up in his fist and digging his nose into the crutch point, where he whiffs at the faint scent of your arousal.

“I can imagine just how wet you are,” he throws it aside. “I can fucking smell it on your shorts.”

You’re standing up, right where the exploration of his eyes land on the black lace that covers you, shows well your bumps and the askew imperfections on your thighs. Its floral folderol craves him for the exposure, and it has him tracing the other integrants of you—the matching bat tattoos on your forearm that you’ve both gotten when you turned 18, your Cockatrice dragon to his Wyvern on your other arm; your own demon on your waistline inspired by Gene Simmons, the coiling snake beneath your right breast, and a bell right between your collarbones. It makes Eddie sit up.

“That’s new,” he points to the black bell. “When’d you get that?”

“Last week,” you drag your finger across it. “Metallica’s growing on me.”

For Whom The Bell Tolls. That’s hot.

Eddie bites his lip when you sway your hips side to side as you leisurely get rid of your black lace, your head lifting to gaze coquettishly at him. “Wanna know how wet mommy got, Eddie?” you hum. He nods his head, muttering a low fuck yeah, his lips all swollen from the lip biting that he eases the pain by licking his lips. 

His cock throbs at the bare sight of your cunt, not fully exposed but he sees the small triangular bush on top. Eddie stops himself from touching his length right there and then as the lace slips past your knees and soon your feet, tossing it at his face that he clumsily catches. You gasp when he sniffs every inch of it, licking the crotch with the flat of his tongue before he’s flinging it somewhere in a corner.

“Smell good, bats,” Eddie growls. “Fucking delectable.”

You come back to kneel at the end of the bed, right between his legs before you're laying on your stomach. Eddie watches with a parted mouth as you trail kisses up his thigh. And you waste no time to spit on your hand and wrap your hand around his shaft, pumping him in an adagio manner. He lets out a moanish sigh, taking two pillows to rest his head all while he watches you tease him.

“Think you deserve my mouth?” you drawl, biting gently at the fat of his thigh. “Tell me, Eddie. Do you deserve mommy’s cock? After being so naughty? I wonder what other girls would think of you having a boner when you sit on their lap. ‘S like you’re a poor little virgin.”

Your thumb traces the slit of the bulging mushroom head, and it’s taking all of his strength not to thrust up. Your touch is burning, only on his cock but felt tactile like the blaze spreads through his veins like a wildfire. Eddie whines. “Please,” he begs. “I’ve been good, mommy. Jus’ couldn’t help it. You looked hot.” you look up at him. “So fucking sexy sitting on my lap, bats.”

Giggling, you shake your head and press a short kiss on his tip. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.” 

A loud moan, louder than Rob Haldford, leaves Eddie’s valiant mouth when you sink your head down his cock, your throat opening to welcome his tip that gags you, your nose grazing the bush of curls. It was a sudden suck, the way your cheeks enclose greedily around his length that makes his legs shake. His fists curl your sheets as you begin to bob your head.

You slap his hand away when it comes down to the back of your head, pulling out and squeezing his shaft. “Keep your hands to yourself, slut. And stay still. If you so much as thrust up my face without my permission, I’m leaving you here all wet with your balls blue.”

He definitely almost came. “Fuck. I’m sorry, m-mommy.”

When you take him into your mouth again with glaring eyes, Eddie thinks of the other girls—a wrong moment to do so, but he remembers how incompetend they were at making him feel so good by the simple touch on his dick. They didn’t send shivers up his spine, they didn’t bear the same dominancy you did; didn’t make him submit indigently the way you made him to. He’s never felt this good in a long time, and it’s just your fucking mouth around him.

“Your cock’s so big, Eddie,” you press your palm on the vein beneath his shaft, kitten licking his tip. “Taste so fucking good, too.” like the way I imagined, you almost say. But you don’t want him to know that; it’s embarrassing to make him think that you’d hump a pillow and imagine fucking his face. 

“Feels s-sooo fucking good—shit…bats,” he pants. You close your lips around his helmet, hand on his shaft pumping him as you bob your head around his tip but never fully taking him into your mouth. The feeling was still unexplainably stupefying, your tongue pressing flat on the throbbing flesh of his tip, hands fast and gyrating around his slick shaft that he hears wet sounds against your palm and his sensitive skin. 

His grunts and loud moaning sends a hot pool between your legs that it’s starting to drip down your legs to the bed, sticky and sweet and painful from the lack of touch. You take your vacant hand down between your body and the bed, fingers reaching blindly for your clit. And when you rub the swollen nub, you moan against his head that sends vibrations.

“Shit!” his ass clenches, stopping himself from bucking up. Eddie looks down to see your arm wedged uncomfortably beneath you, and he feels his orgasm build up to the edge of the wall when your eyes close as you rub your clit and suck on his cock. “Are you- touching yourself?”

You hum around him, head bobbing in rhythm to the music. You pull away from his cock, to kiss your way down to his heavy balls. Eddie mewls, whining when you rub your clit faster as you lick his balls. Everything feels overwhelmingly good when you suck on his balls, tongue lifting his heavy sack and enclosing your lips around the dark flesh. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throwing his head down to his pillow and covering his eyes with his forearm. 

He feels the eyeliner transfer to his sweaty skin, his sweat taking the liquid kohl and dripping down his temple. But it might have been the tears that threaten to spill past his eyes that sets the makeup off down his face, because your sloppy sucking and quick pumping, it felt so good it renders him an almost sobbing mess beneath you.

“Mommy,” he heaves. “I’m close,”

“Hold it in, then,” you order. “I’m not done. You can touch my hair now, by the way.”

You capture his sack with the most pure look you could muster, as if what you're doing isn’t so fucking unholy. Like you’re at the gates of heaven proving your innocence. Your hands leave him and yourself to push on the back his thighs, letting his feet plant on the mattress, pushing them wide apart to give yourself better access. Eddie moans, almost a scream ripping out his throat and it’s when the tears slowly start, your hand coming back to pump his wet cock loudly, your muffled moaning like music that comes with the squelching of his cock.

“Such a pretty dick,” you tease. “So pretty and good. Wonder what it would feel like to have you inside me. I’m gonna fucking milk you dry until you’re crying and in pain.”

Eddie pats your head, running his fingers through the tangled mess as you look up at him, eyelashes wet and curled, mouth full of his balls that you suck greedily. His missing orgasm is painful, and he finds himself begging embarrassingly. “Bats, can I cum, please? I’ve been good. Fuck—I’ve been such a good boy for you. Please let me cum.”

Your laugh is sardonic and mean, pressing a kiss to his heavy sack before you’re licking up from his balls to his shaft and tip. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Vampishly, you sink your head down his cock again, gagging around him that a string of saliva drips down your neck and the valley of your breast. Eddie mewls, and with a couple more closed cheeks, head bobbing and sucking and licking, he’s shooting his seed at the back of your throat. His warm delicacy coating the walls of your throat.

You don’t stop until he’s milked, sinking your head deeper and deeper until his cum starts to drip out your mouth. Once you’re done, you let him go with a pop. Your finger scooping up his cum and pushing it back into your mouth.

“Mother of Ozzy,” he whispers, watching you suck on your fingers, his legs dropping down. “S-shit. Come here, bats.”

You come back to sit on his lap, his dick still hard but bends down when you grind your cunt against him. Eddie’s (and your) moans are muffled when you kiss him, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him with fervor, slowly grinding on his shaft like you did earlier. Eddie wraps his hands around your back, keeping your chest flushed against his as his tongue evades your mouth.

“You taste like my cum,” he murmurs. 

“Tastes good,” you giggle. “Aw, your eyeliner. I worked hard on that.”

 Eddie pouts. “You give the best fucking head, bats. Couldn’t help it.” 

Tracing his jawline with your finger, you smile at his praise. “Think you can handle one more? Or you just want to lay back and watch me touch myself?”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. His answer dies in his mouth when he looks up at you—and Ozzy, you’re fucking beautiful. With your lips plump, eyes glazed in mutual titillation. Like you’re not just fucking, like you didn’t just suck him off just to replenish your venereal hunger. But he doesn’t know what it is, and so do you (though only because you try to ignore the real reason you can’t fathom).

“Me? I can handle more. Fuck me in the ass if you want, bats,” he presses a quick kiss. “You got any condoms?”

With a hand on his shoulder, Eddie keeps you in place as you lean across the bedside table and clumsily open the drawer. You pull out a pack, splayed out in the wooden cabinet from its box, holding it between your middle and index finger as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “I got twenty more.”

“Easy there, mama,” his voice is low and almost growling as he looks at your lips. The mixtape whirls as you rip the package open with your teeth. Seek and Destroy by Metallica starts playing, your fingers taking the condom from the foil and placing it on your mouth, lips around the plastic ring before you bend down to wrap the condom around his cock. “Fuck.Where’d you learn that?”

You take him fully in your mouth again, cheekily sucking before you pull out and push your hair out of your face. “Steve Harrington. Junior Year,” Eddie gawps. “Right after Nancy Wheeler dumped him.”

“Holy shit,” despite the panging jealousy, he laughs in shock. “You’re something else, baby.”

Baby.

Heat brushes your cheeks, makes you laugh shyly as you take his sensitive cock in your hand. “Lay back down.”

Eddie complies with the help of your hand pushing his back to the bed. You kneel, hand grabbing his cock and straightening it until his tip’s prodding your entrance. You keenly breathe in when you sink, his thick girth splitting your wet pussy open. He lets out a moan that’s almost painful, greedy hands coming to palm your waist to help you sink.

“Shiiiiiiit,” you gasp. “God, you feel fucking amazing, Eds. So fucking big.”

“That’s it mommy. God, so tight,” Eddie’s eyes drip heavily. “You like my dick?”

His neck stretches when you choke him, his head falling back. “Fucking love your fat cock,” you mewl, throwing your head back. Eddie removes his hands from your waist to palm at your tits, feeling his mushroom bulge in your stomach once you’ve fully sat. 

Barely a minute after he’s fully in, you begin moving. The wet sound of your pussy dragging up from his length makes you even wetter, dripping down his navel, his happy trail all sticky. Your hand leaves his neck to scratch on his chest, watching as slanted, red marks paint his skin and his tattoos before you drop down. 

Eddie moans, his feet planting up the bed once more to rest your curved back. “You look so pretty,” he pants. “Riding my cock. Touched myself every night to the thought of this. And I know it’s wrong, bats, but I couldn’t fucking help it. I’d—I’d bend a pillow and fuck it, thinking it was your pussy. And all along I thought you’d let me have my way with you. But I was so wrong.”

You grind and bounce at an adequate pace, your walls clenching around him, your ass slapping against the skin of his thighs everytime you come back down. Eddie relishes in the blissful haze hailed upon you, your eyebrows scrunched and raised, jaw slack as you let out mewls with the same volume as his. Almost to the point that the loud music can’t even drown out your euphoric cries.

The tears began forming from the stinging overstimulation, his cock twitching immediately and he feels so raw. His vigor shredded and he submits himself to you, laying and moaning beneath your sedulous fucking. 

And he knows, even with the rubber separating his flesh to yours, that everything has changed. No one else could fuck him the way you do, the way you sucked him off, the way you ruled over him and his body. Eddie’s tears choke his moans, the ebony makeup spilling down to your white sheets, your nails scratching all over his tattoos as you bounce faster.

“Jesus. You fucking whore,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, eyes slamming shut as you bounce. You glow with the sheen layer of sweat coating your body, breathtaking in all your pulchritudinous galore. Eddie traces the stretch marks on your thigh and thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the rare sight of you all pleasured and his. “God, Eddie, you feel so amazing.”

Your head ducks, a sob coming out of you. Your heart palpitates, the shattering sensation of being fucked open by your best friend gives you blindsiding revelation that you would rather be with him than anyone else. Because the touch of his hands is nothing but comforting after your cruelty. 

You bounce faster on his cock. Eddie’s tears are stained with gray rivulets, coming up to sit and push your chest against him so he can hug you. Your hand tangles itself on his unkempt hair, nails scratching his back, whereas he’s muffling his growls by biting on your shoulder. Eddie kisses his way to your neck, sucking and biting a love bite in. 

“I’m close, bats,” he pants against your sweaty flesh. “I’m gonna fucking cum. I can’t hold it in.”

“Okay,” you nod, pulling away to press your forehead against his. You exchange breathy moans, your bounces now with the help of Eddie as you slowly lose your energy. “F-fuck. All this time I’ve been searching for some rando to fuck. Should’ve just gone to you.” He wedges his hand between your bodies, his fingers dancing across your clit that makes you bump your forehead harder with his. “Fuck, Eddie. Cum. I wanna feel you cum.”

Eddie keens on his orgasm, and so do you. Sobbing and mewling into each other’s mouths as your grinding slows down, feeling his warm cum fill his condom, your own climax covering the rubber. He runs his hands up and down your back, before they come up to your shoulder and cup your face, pushing your hair aside so he could kiss you.

A kiss sweeter and more innocent than the first one. Eddie takes your wet lips into his, soft with his pants and his touch. And with his lips still yours, he helps you kneel up to pull his softening cock out of your gaping cunt. You hiss lightly, a tear coating your eyelashes that he wipes away as he sits you down on his thigh. 

“That’s it, mama,” his voice is raw and croaky, you rest your head on his shoulder, hands leaving you momentarily to pull his condom out. You watch as Eddie tiredly ties the condom, reaching the bin beneath your bed and throws it inside before he’s hugging you again, fingers rubbing your jaw and thigh. “You did good, bats. Tired?”

You nod your head. Eddie urges you to lay on the bed, where you lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, He wipes the eyeliner off with the side of his thumb, eyes never leaving you.

“So,” you scratch the column of your neck. “That was intense. Didn’t know the Dungeon Master had it in him to call me mommy but, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Shut up,” he pushes on your shoulder, mimicking your position. Eddie’s fingers trace the curvatures of your waist, hovering over your stretch marks. “I didn't know you had it in you. Did you suck Harrington like that too?”

You laugh, hiding your eyes. “No. No, I never blew him. He’s very eager with giving head, it's insane.” Eddie smiles. “But he’s really good at it. He’s got a bit of a breeding kink. Kept whining about condoms but.”

“At least he’s good at giving head,” his rings are cold against your skin. Scooting closer, Eddie nestles his cheek on the side of his elbow. “So I know we literally just finished having sex but…are you still up for another?”

“Jesus, give me a break. I’m not a machine y’know,” he laughs. 

“That’s not what I meant,”

You bite your lip nervously, taking his hand into yours and staring at the difference of its sizes. Your fingers were more slender than his, but his hand  in general was bigger. “I’m still up to play house. I really liked the whole mommy thing.”

Eddie smiles, seraphic and pretty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you brush the curls away from his face. “Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be here for a couple hours. My parents are still out. So we can fuck for as long as we want.”

Your offer excites him. Eddie takes your cups your face and kisses you once more, deciding to worry about what would happen after all this later.

#eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn one shot #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader smut #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #x reader #sub eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

[venus-haze]

Eat Your Heart Out (Severen x Reader)

Summary: Feral vampires are few and far between, and Severen isn’t sure what to think when you begin trailing the clan. 

Note: Woman reader, but no descriptors are used. This is based on a request by @bowdowntolouis! I love that the Near Dark universe is so vague with its vampire rules and whatnot, because it gives me room to make things up. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Blood, gore, descriptions of mild disemboweling, I guess some elements of cannibalism because the reader’s a messy eater. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The first time he saw you, he didn’t think much of it. Another pretty face in a backward-ass town they’d leave for the dust as soon as night fell the following day, anyway. He caught it, though, the faintest scent of dead blood that he couldn’t dwell on, because Homer was corralling everyone into a convenience store to see if they had a decent comic book selection. 

Of course, they’d happened upon a dry town. Not a deal-breaker, but messing with drunks was always more fun. In lieu of a bar, the convenience store was the gathering place for the town’s residents after dark with its worn, old-timey soda counter and handful of tables and chairs with stuffing coming out of the cushions. He scoffed. Burning the place down would practically be doing them a favor.

“Y’all better be careful out there,” an older man said from behind the checkout.

“Why’s that?” Jesse asked, humoring the clerk.

“People are sayin’ there’s some kinda animal attacks, bodies just mauled like you’d never seen. Wildcat or coyotes…somethin’ like that,” he rambled before nodding in the direction of some of the people sitting at the tables. “Few loonies think a woman did it, claim they saw her runnin’ with blood all over her face, eyes like the devil. Just watch out if you know what’s good for ya.”

“Don’t you worry, mister. We ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” Severn said with a grin, reaching over to pat the clerk’s shoulder. He gripped it with a strong hand, pulling him over the counter and throwing him onto the floor.

“You believe that, about the woman?” Mae asked quietly when they’d finished burning the place down.

He shook his head. “C’mon Mae, y’know these assholes huff paint for fun. They got nothing better to do than make up bullshit like that.”

The second time he saw you, he didn’t even know it was you. Shock had overtaken him when he came across your hunched over figure in a dark alleyway, the scent of blood sharp and fresh as you fed. You looked up, eyes wide with the slightest hint of fear as he stood in the darkness. You could see him just as clearly as he could see you. Silent save for your labored breathing, you began sprinting toward him, only to push him aside as you passed him by, further into the night.

He approached the body you’d left behind. A woman, probably in her mid-thirties. He couldn’t tell exactly from the number you’d done on her face. Leaning in closer, his lip curled upon realizing the woman’s arm was nearly detached from her shoulder, chest caved in as if you’d cracked it open.

Glancing behind his shoulder, he shook his head. And he thought he was fucked up.

Kicking the body with the tip of his steel-toed boot, it flopped back to its lifeless place on the ground. He wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. Leaning closer, he inhaled. The body was fresh. It’d be a shame to let good blood go to waste just because he scared you off. So he fed, shuddering a bit when he rested his hand in the open cavity in her chest and felt something squishy and still warm beneath him. 

Upon further inspection, it was her kidney or liver, though not entirely intact. Severen wasn’t squeamish, but poking around, he found her entrails appeared almost shredded. Desperate, as if you hadn’t fed in weeks. Lack of decorum, maybe. Never learned how to hunt properly and went by base instincts alone. He’d heard rumors of their kind who’d been turned and promptly left to fend for themselves. Most ended up perishing in the daylight without someone to mentor them, show them how to look out for themselves. He supposed some turned out like you. Feral, Jesse had said once. Succumbing to bloodlust like madness.

Less than a week later, he caught your scent, as if he could forget it after that night. If it weren’t for that tell-tale smell of dead blood, he wouldn’t have caught on to you tailing the group. His guard up, unsure of your intentions, he split from everyone else to confront you. Well hidden behind a pharmacy, already in a defensive position when he approached.

Your clothing had seen better days, some of it torn, a result of your victims hopelessly fighting back. Your nails were sharp, as if you’d purposely filed them to do the most damage possible on impact. Smudged eyeliner circled your piercing eyes, though it’d clearly been a long time since you’d reapplied it. Similarly, he couldn’t tell whether your lips were red from lipstick or just bloodstained. No wonder you’d been mistaken for some kind of wild cat woman.

“You followin’ us?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“I just go where I smell blood.”

“Why do you feed like that? Makes things a lot harder on us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, hands balled into fists at your side. “I don’t have to explain nothing to no one.”

“Look, you do what you want, but leave me and mine out of it.”

“Are you done?” you asked, a deep crease in your forehead as you stared him down.

“Yeah, so get outta here.”

He decided against telling Jesse that he’d confronted you, hoping that his discussion with you would be the end of your paths crossing. You had to have been following them, ending up in the same towns so often couldn’t have been a coincidence. Still, his morbid curiosity wandered with thoughts of what it’d be like to feed as you did. He prided himself on his brutality, his savagery. You gave him motivation to step up his game.

It wasn’t much longer after that, somewhere deep in the heart of Texas, he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye while he was feeding on a member of a bachelorette party he’d convinced to leave the cowboy bar with him, promising a good time. He growled upon lifting his head from her body, not at all pleased to see you again.

You approached him, and he growled, pushing the body aside as he stood up. 

“Girl, what’d I tell you about following us around? Like you’re some dumb fuckin’ puppy.”

“You feed after me. Vulture,” you spat.

He grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, painfully pulling your face close to his as he hissed, low and dangerous, “I know you didn’t just call me that.”

“You take what’s mine and don’t even feed from the best part.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I missing?”

You became quiet, and he was confused at your lack of a retort until you covered his bloodstained mouth with your hand. “Shh…someone’s coming, don’t you smell it?”

Clean and fresh, the faintest scent of men’s cologne and laundry detergent. A set of heavy footsteps, quick and purposeful. In a rush to get somewhere he’d never arrive, no doubt. Severen grinned from behind your hand.

“Now’s our chance,” you whispered.

Thrill rolled down his spine at how quickly your demeanor changed, past grievances set aside at the chance to hunt. He released his grip on you, and you lifted your hand from his face. The excited, ragged breath you let out was all he could hear over the cacophony of noises in the night. You were fucked up. 

No pretense, no tactics, you simply grabbed the man from where he stood and shoved him to the ground. Severen observed with an almost academic interest as you tore into the man’s throat with your teeth, straddling him to keep him down. 

Bone cracked beneath your feverish grip on the man’s body. You dug your hands deep into the man’s chest and pushed, the overwhelming scent of blood overtaking all else and making his head spin. Standing over you, practically salivating, he found the sight of you mauling this stranger morbidly beautiful.

His eyebrows raised in surprise when you reached into the open cavity and ripped the man’s heart out. The two of you were already covered in blood, but he supposed he never expected to see firsthand how messy humans’ bodies could be if you really took the time to open them up.

“This is what you’re missing,” you said, offering the baseball-sized organ to him.

His hesitation didn’t last long. He grabbed the heart out of your hand, considering how it felt in his. Warm, like when he’d poked around the woman you’d left behind a few weeks earlier, but more firm with the presence of muscle. Unsure of how to approach feeding from it, he bit into the heart as if it were an apple and let the blood flow into his mouth from the puncture he’d made.

He drained the organ of blood, the taste notably better than just sinking his teeth into flesh. Bare skin, he discovered in that moment, left a strange aftertaste in blood, undoubtedly from the perfumes and lotions and bodily fluids that were on it. Maybe you were onto something, feeding straight from the source rather than through a barrier. Admittedly, it was messier, but he wouldn’t have his razor-blade spurs if he were afraid of being messy.

“You’re gonna get me in a lot of trouble,” he said, releasing the heart from his hands, landing haphazardly back in the victim’s exposed ribcage.

“With who?”

An unfamiliar voice startled both of you. “I swear I heard something back there, man.”

“C’mon,” Severen whispered, grabbing your hand.

“Yeah, probably someone getting his dick sucked. Just forget it.”

You shook your head. “We can take them.”

“It’s almost daylight. Just come with me,” he hissed, tugging on your arm.

“You go. If I see you in another town, I’ll come with you, okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded, releasing your arm and watching as you ran off yet again. After a few weeks, he stopped looking for you, though you drifted in and out of his thoughts often. Months blurred together for him, but at least a year had passed since he’d seen you. Mae had turned Caleb, anyway, and getting him acclimated to their way of life was troublesome enough. You being there would’ve made things all the more difficult.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Channeled his disappointment into being even crueler when he killed, though he could never quite work up the nerve to dig for the heart when he was around the others. Not necessarily too taboo, but rather it reminded him too much of you. Someone he’d spent less than half an hour with. Homer would never let him hear the end of it. Like he was going soft or something.

Before he knew it, they were back in Texas. The state felt endless, but he loved the freedom of the deserts, the small, unsuspecting towns that dotted the highway. They set up camp for a few nights in a motel right off an exit for the only town with more than 5,000 residents for miles. 

Setting out on his own, Severen walked past a grocery store when he smelled it. Dead blood. Following the scent, he ended up in a department store. In the vast cosmetics section, he found you applying the tester eyeliner in a mirror. You’d switched out your old clothes, wearing something newer and more fashionable. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had just swapped outfits in the dressing room.

Engrossed in your makeup application, you didn’t notice him sneaking up on you until you smelled him. Your back tensed and you threw the eyeliner aside. Turning around, you relaxed upon seeing the grinning creature of the night a few feet away from you.

You smiled a bit when you walked over to him. “Hey, it’s you.”

“I was startin’ to think you stood me up, darlin’,” he said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry about that; it’s a long story.” 

“How does dinner sound? Give us a chance to catch up.”

“It’s like you read my mind. I’m starving.”

#severen x reader #near dark #severen near dark #near dark 1987 #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom

[maria-eve-falcon]

THINGS I know about joe alwyn

birthday is 21 feb 1991 (international mother language day )

is a pisces

mom (elizabeth meakins )is a psychotherapist (she is a specialist in eating disorder)

dad (richard alwyn) is a director and was a lecturer in France for some years

height is 6'1 (controversial)

upbringing was upper middle class (they were posh posh)

he went to the same school as Dan Redcliff (city of london) but he was a year older/ younger

he had so long hair that his teach used to tell him to cut it

tom was born in 1989 , 24 aug (1 and some months apart from joe) tom works in as a social worker (tho he originally wanted to be a sports reporter ) he studied from Cambridge

pat in 22 feb , 2003 (literally 12 years apart from joe ) (not confirmed date of birth) (pat is 6'4 btw) (went to a public school unlike joe and tom whom both went to city of london (a more private school)

he is a very caring older brother

they had a family dog named flint (dunno about him now hence the past tense)

liz meakins used to write about them in her the independent column

liz has a book (she dedicated it to her fam) called what will you do with my story

great-grandson of william alwyn (3rd gen neppo but their dynamic with him is weird considering they are the great-grandchildren of olive pull (william's first wife , whom he left for his pupil (doreen) god knows when but william didn't have any children with doreen so..... still 3rd gen neppo)

his great uncle (paternal) nick alwyn was a cricketer

his great uncle (maternal) was bruce kent

his maternal family is part welsh

More dates here!

he was quite active during black lives matter and the george floyd murder and police brutality (the george floyd one is from 27 may 2020, the hashtag with the blackout pick is from june 2 , 2020) he also posted a donation link but I lost the receipts for it.

he was friends / (was together with) shared a dorm with lindsey russell from blue peter who alwyn once commented under his pic during billy lynn season . also there is an infamous article about themfrom a fellow friend of joe's (won't rule it out no nah)

his friends call themselves the frosty crew (they are a group of 6)

niceboy ed is one of his best friends

his best besties are jesse and elenor

one of his ex gf's first insta pic was joe (sorry won't name names)

unconfirmed sources say joe had a gf for 4 years from 15 to 19 years old (who btw was his first gf) . they broke up cause he went to Bristol (they were long term for a year before breaking up)

he's known as the party guy (when he is in the mood ob. like he's also a bit of an introvert)

he loves drinking and eating

he can play guitar

he can do hula hoops

he learnt fencing after watching the zorro movie

he had a fish named rainbow starr whom he found tragically after Christmas in their fridge when he was little

he had a turtle whom he'd call his best friend when he was little

he had platinum blonde hair as a child

he had clown training

his fav place is Cornwall where he's family'd go for vacations

He used to play rugby as a child but dislocated one of his shoulders during a game. Since then he played football mostly.

if zoomed and observed correctly , one can see Joe has a slightly crooked nose. A story is to come ig!

this was his cv:

more on joe from : @rarejoealwyn @joealwyndaily @joealwynspain

most of my source and an additional thanks to @bisluthq and @youareinlovees for being here at the greatest times and giving amazing contents

please feel free to share if you know more!

(i swear there are very important things I'm missing but I dunno why I'm having a brain lag and I'm super lazy soooo)

also ! pics!

rick alwyn

elizabeth meakins , tom alwyn, joe alwyn, pat alwyn :

rosemary meakins (his grandma, maternal), Bruce kent and George kent

#joe alwyn info #I swear I know more but this is just the basic #(actually I can't remember and I'm lazy) #joe alwyn #I must have more reciepts but I'm too lazy to find them rn

[mikuyuuss]

I imagine Alaska!Jesse from post El Camino to be a part time student at a community college, pursuing something that he wants, like sports medicine or education. Jesse also starts drawing again, attending art classes and participating in the art events around his community.

(I also imagine Jesse with bangs. He becomes comfortable enough to grow his hair out, kinda like Aaron Paul's character Caleb Nichols from Westworld s4, sans the beard maybe)

Jesse also starts drawing children's comic books, where the story is loosely based on his own experiences. It's Jesse's own way as an emotional outlet and a way for him to keep the memory of his people alive like Jane, Andrea, Brock, Mike, his friends, his family, and heck, maybe even Walt, but ofc the names are different and the characters are reimagined as superheroes, (think of Team Science from the official Breaking Bad Minisode) The comics became a hit to his community, especially the kids.

Since Vince and Aaron stated that Jesse has wood working related jobs, I HC that he works there part time, and then after he graduates, he becomes a teacher, a good teacher, and then he gets a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Jesse having a family just makes so much sense, so he definitely settled down and had kids.

Jesse's partner probably had some idea that he went through something (w the scars and all) but willingly settled down with him, so when the time came that Jesse told them about his past, they weren't too surprised. Sure, they might have freaked out for a bit but they love and trust him at this point so they were very supportive of him.

I like to think too that Ed occasionally keeps in touch with him and that at some point, Jesse was able to reach out to Skinny Pete and Badger to send them gifts and to at least let them know that he's doing fine.

Jesse might never fully recover from his past, but he has a new life in Alaska, where he gets to do what he loves, where he has a family that he loves and loves him back. Jesse is content with this life, so he will be okay.

#brba #breaking bad #jesse pinkman #me speaks #my post #headcanons #el camino #skinny pete #badger mayhew #as a non american the concept of community college is very foreign to me #el camino seems to imply that jesse seems interested in going back to college #but a traditional university might be impossible for him #so after some research i think a community college would be perfect for him! #jane margolis #andrea cantillo #aaron paul #also yes ofc he also adopts an injured and abandoned dog and lets his inner child heal as much as he can

[muutos]

get to know the author!

name : morgan / moogs

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : discord

most active muse :  five nights at freddy's charas, flora ghoul maybe. missy, i guess. i suppose it's like, fair game right now for the most part. i'm writing everyone a fair bit.

experience / how many years :  i was .. ig technically gifted so i've been writing long/short form stories and other things since ten years old and rp since 12/13 on omegle and email, also with friends on facebook. so 12 years ish rp experience and 15 total of writing. i've also gotten my associates degree in writing for film and television as a post secondary student, and graduated with a mighty fine GPA. ;)

best experience : meeting my lovely fiance and all of my lasting beautiful relationships and friendships like with like - pj, jess, sam, ben, munchie, spectre, veronica, little, billie, vero, ed, aleera ... like s/o to those people who have been there for literal years or coming up on a year for some of us! how time flies. i'm so so so excited to make more friends moving forward and just have a silly billy time.

rp pet peeves : snakes. people who have main character syndrome on this website and think their pretty graphics and purple prose make them better than everyone else. people who are allergic to fun. people to assume writer = muse, when it comes to morality. assuming people aren't grown and educated enough to weigh their decisions regarding problematic content and media. people who think fiction needs to be squeaky clean and PG for 'the sake of humanity'. people who marginalize an entire group of people while claiming to be progressive. hypocrites. cliques and exclusionist behavior. stalkers. <3

fluff, angst, or smut : Angst, and dirty gross monster-fucking nasty depraved - *gunshots*

plots or memes : plots, but memes are great to get things going at random and it's amazing what can spark from them.

long or short replies : i've been known to write 1,000 words in one reply.

time to write : before 4pm when my brain and focus turn to mush.

are you like your muses : you can draw pieces of yourself from everyone. if i couldn't relate to my muses in some way what's the point? what am i getting out of it?

tagged by: @atlatsofstories <3 tagging: @chrchgrl @lettherebemonsters @silvcrignis @helk1ll @7poisons @cyberpawn @dilffactory @faztastiic @squarecranks @charmbag @divinehr @diicktective @goldshadows

#misc * / out of character #𝐢. . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 › dash games ]

[jess-moloney]

This woman’s online presence is so fucking weird. I could understand Jess not having Twitter. Weird in 2023 if you’re pretty much under 40 not to, but okay. Not everyone’s cup of tea. Sure. What I don’t understand is miss I’m-A-Serious-Business-Professional not having a LinkedIn. Even if it’s not updated. If her track record is as stated and some verifiable, why not have one? If you pivot and co-own a business, that’s something to be proud of and have it listed. If you need networking as badly as she does, that’s a good place for it.

Privacy isn’t her issue. Her issue is pretty obviously that only having Instagram (that we know of) is best because you can pick and choose what people see, hide things from certain people, archive things…everything she needs to have the persona she does.

The question then becomes how she’s explained this to Jamie. We know it’s because she’s a pathological con artist. But, they got together in early 2021. He had to have asked at some point if she was this great talented manager and owned a second business, why aren’t you promoting your business? Why don’t you wear your brand’s clothes? Why if you manage people that live in New York, do you live in California? It’s a head scratcher that he either never had these questions or was so under her spell in the beginning that he didn’t care.

I suppose there’s like a 1% chance her businesses are legitimate. Honestly at this point with what seems like a defunct management business and Ice Studios which is a joke, I think she has an OnlyFans.

Any number of people would see tattoos and a wannabe goth “witch queen” thing and pay for something. What that something is? Don’t know. Could be tame, could not be. Her lifestyle (her plastic surgery alone) takes upkeep. You’d be surprised what people do for money. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s a sugar baby. I’d be so curious to know if either of those theories are legit. It’d make sense.

You make very good points here. I also wanted to add if she has an OnlyFans (which I wouldn’t put past her) not only is there goth/tattoo appeal but very sadly there is ED fetish content. The more emaciated and skeletal she looks the more those people would get off on it. She may get off on it too as it’s clearly something she’s worked very hard on achieving.

If her business was legitimate (at least Ice Studios) and successful, trust me, we’d have heard of it before Jess and not only because of Jess. Maybe it’s making just enough money to keep it out of the red but it’s not making millions. Pull 100 people off the street and ask them if they’ve heard of this brand. A thousand. Two thousand. You are guaranteed to starve to death before you find a person who knows this brand without googling it first. I’d bet my life savings on that.

As for her “management” company, if she had high profile clients of any type she’d be way too busy to be following Jamie around or yanking him on Snowboarding trips just for Instagram clout. She wouldn’t be able to follow him to all these conventions and she wouldn’t have time for those stupid baking videos (or care to make them). We’d also see her with other celebrities doing something. Someone of note would mention her. She’d wouldn’t be ignored by everyone she tags on IG. I mean could she be making just enough money, barely, to keep both businesses from bankruptcy? Yes. She’s 100% not successful or wealthy from it.

Something is going on with this woman and she’s hidden it very well. She doesn’t even seem to care that the Ice Shop is down and has been down for days. No one at Ice seems to care. How well well fan that brand be doing if they can’t even be arsed to put up a note about their broken down scam site? I don’t know how she got Jamie so blind to all of this long enough to trap him in the cage she has him in now but whatever she did it was probably awful and this whole situation seems like a nightmare for him.

#jess moloney #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #mail

[fortunemars]

OH BIO TIME!!! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Hilo! I'm Deimos, I go by a million names online but here I'd prefer Deimos or Bunny! Does it make sense with my branding? NO, not unless you've been thru the various stages of my branding and have some knowledge of space...

This is really long so read on at your own risk! /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

So about me, I use He/it and I'm queer + disabled, I'm an adult now (yippie), and I do a lot of writing! This account is mainly a "repost art and randomly go on super detailed tangents about my fixations" but I am super into writing and I love to talk about my interests (⁠^⁠.⁠_⁠.⁠^⁠)⁠ﾉ I have an ask box open where you can send in anything really, I'd really love any that are writing prompts (for fandoms listed below) or general "what's your thoughts on (blank)" submissions, just be warned I can be very long winded and can rant a lot about anything I'm passionate about. (I will also delete any asks that are too personal/rude or inappropriate)

Fandoms I interact with (always changing): MORTAL KOMBAT, fma/fmab, aphmau (MCD, mystreet, and MID), hetalia (rarely), midnight mass, the walten files, fallout (semi rare? More like new), miraculous ladybug, and I can edit later with others! (Ps I also love learning about your original worlds and characters!)

Non fandom content I enjoy: Minecraft, stardew valley, ART (for any fandoms!!!! I will reblog any good art!!!!), pen pals, crafting, poetry, fanfiction, animal media, music + singing + instruments, original characters/self inserts + OCs and original works!!!, gardening, space, info dumping/sharing, I'm open to trying anything (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

My ao3 is untilwemeetdeath and my poetry blog is @destinypluto and I'm always open to comments and ideas from y'all! If you wanna be mutuals then send me a message cause I'd love to talk with other people who share my interests!!!

DNI CONTENT BELOW:

My DNI list: anti-cringe, bigots, jesson supporters**, hate blogs, discourse blogs, and mental illness related blogs***, ableists and transphobes especially

**I may enjoy aphmau content (albeit heavily removed from her actual channel) but I do not support aphmau's channel or either Jess or Jason. They're both bad people, they've done bad things, and their new content is cash grabby as shit, I know that. I attach to certain old aphmau content because it was my safe space as a child and I know now how to denounce Jesson and their actions while still enjoying the content I liked as a kid, it's not hurting you so leave me alone :(

***by this I mostly mean those weird pro-ana blogs but I also don't want to consume content centred around EDs in general, nor do I want to see pro self harm, doomers, and people who purposely put others down. I don't mind blogs where you vent or talk about your struggles with mental illness!! As long as you're not posting triggering things without warnings then you're welcomed here!

I have no guilt about hitting that block button and neither should you. If you don't enjoy the content being given to you by your feed then block people!

(((this account was previously burnbirds, if you're looking for that then I'm here!!!!!!)))

#blog bio #get to know the blogger #blog intro #intro post

[drunktuesdays]

I posted 1,990 times in 2022

That's 985 more posts than 2021!

254 posts created (13%)

1,736 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theroseandthebeast

@orange-catsidy

@thevaudevillescene

@kissing-monsters

@dykecassidy

I tagged 1,885 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#wrestling - 666 posts

#i know that's right - 110 posts

#asks - 61 posts

#matt jackson - 60 posts

#i know that’s right - 56 posts

#correct - 37 posts

#my work - 30 posts

#that's right - 26 posts

#dustin - 26 posts

#alpha4alpha - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and buck's so stressed and urgent about being like i don't want to test my couch out. i know what i want. i just want the couch to want me

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

unfortunately real shit

334 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

#4

THE MEDICINE IS NOT WORKING BUT I AM STILL HERE.

395 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

#3

Why I Am Not Coming Into Work Today

Dear employers,

I will have to take the day off today because:

☐ It’s December and the streets are papier-mached with wet bronze leaves and it’s so dark outside that the cars have their headlights on at 3pm

☐ I have recently been through a breakup, or I have been through a breakup at any time in my life really, and I woke up today with the absolute conviction that I will never be loved again

☐ A dog looked at me

☐ I got a text from someone for whom I feel a mix of concern and frustration and recognition and longing that is both more and less than romance

☐ Someone made a joke about dead pets meeting you in heaven

☐ Daylight savings time

☐ I passed a knot of flowers that were so bright they glowed through the dim grey water of the day and when was anything in my life last that luminous?

☐ Girls are too pretty

☐ For the first time I genuinely comprehend that there is not enough time to have all the lives I wanted

☐ I accidentally listened to Leonard Cohen

-"Why I Am Not Coming Into Work Today" by Jess Zimmerman

597 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

#2

i love when fanfictions make men cry. it's like, one of the most important things anyone's ever doing. i'm currently reading a fic where the on-screen men are either fucking or they're absolutely weeping. just sobbing their stupid brains out. i'm scrolling through it SO happily like, thank u. thank you for your hard work, author. people might not like to admit it but this is peak performance. if men aren't sucking, fucking, or sobbing then i don't even wanna see it. dry eyes? dry pussy

834 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

everyone is fucking but no one is horny

one of my twitter friends recently said that if she could order up a fic it would be a story written by someone who has only ever read the classics, 1.5 star trek novelizations, and their mother's romance novels from 1970, written about two people are so out of their minds horny for each other it causes them to make the absolute worst choices anyone's ever made.

and i almost lost my mind laughing because i do know exactly what she means. there is a weird vibe i can sometimes sense within the first few paragraphs a fic that really bums me out. it's almost like i can tell the author is thinking way too much about what i'm thinking about their id and it's suddenly like we're all suddenly wondering how riding a bicycle works when we're mid-ride. when you start worrying too much audience interpretation or how a fic is going to do or play or ugh marketability, it genuinely adds some weird self-conscious distance to whatever you're doing. and it's the pits from the reader side because it removes so much horniness from your story even if the idea you have is genuinely good! i know this is not a niche complaint--you find it literally everywhere as every sector of the creative internet gets #content-ed and people can't escape the stats of how any given creative outlet does.

but god there's literally nothing better than sitting down and reading some freaknasty person's art where they do not give a single shit if you like it. they had something to say and my god they were gonna say it. i've accidentally acquired so many kinks by clicking on a story where someone took me on the most insane ride of my life and i thrilled about it. i don't wanna read about polite normal regular love. i don't wanna read about people using therapy-speak on each other. i wanna read about two people feeling the biggest craziest feelings of their entire life and they cannot do anything about it except bang it out. what else are we doing here? if they're not fucking down an entire house, well jed i don't even wanna read it.

3,899 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#it's so weird to me that i have two entries for i know that's right #i wonder if it's the phone apostrophe vs the desktop apostrophe? #anyway i loved this obvs

[baby-fics]

All SFW writings!! No NSFW allowed and all will be blocked. My big space fics are @the-bog-writer

DNI: TRANSPHOBES, TERFS, MAPS, OR HOMOPHOBES: you know who you are, you aren't welcome. This is a safe space that isn't welcoming for those who would do harm and cause cruelty.

Feel free to request content but I cannot guarantee anything! I do this for fun! Also if I delete a request, it's not because I hate you or your request- I probably just couldn't find anything to write for it lol.

Who I currently write for is:

Slashers:

Jesse Cromeans from Chromeskull

Asa Emory from Collector

David, Marko, Paul, Dwayne, Star, and Michael from The Lost Boys

Stu Macher and Billy Loomis from Scream

Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th

Daniel Robitaille from Candyman

Pelle from Midsommar

Bo, Vincent, and Lester Sinclair from House of Wax

Jennifer Check from Jennifer's Body

Sarah, Nancy, Bonnie, and Rochelle from the Craft

Chucky and Tiffany Valentine from Child's Play

Detroit Become Human:

Markus

Connor

Kara

Hank

Monster CG Varieties:

Vampire

Closet CG: Noor

Werewolf

Drider

Basically any monster you can think of.

This is just for now! I will add to this list later! I will also be adding more Women to this list, I now realize how utterly dry it is of them and this is unacceptable.

Do request:

-hurt/comfort

-poly dynamics

-trans prompts

Do not request:

-nsfw of any kind

-real life serial killers

-Actual People (I'm sorry but writing about real people makes me uncomfy. For example, you can request Kylo Ren but not Adam Driver.)

I will write about darker topics like ED's, s*icidal, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, OCD, etc. but only ever in a way that results in comfort, coping, and support. Mental health is not pretty, and I know how lonely the bad times can be: sometimes it's nice to read about someone caring for you through the icky stuff.

[venus-haze]

Open All Night (Severen x Reader)

Summary: The Hooker clan breaks decorum and sets up camp for a few weeks in a small Southern city after shaking Caleb’s father off their trail. It doesn’t take them long to find out another one of their kind has already made the turf home. You just hope they won't cause any trouble. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Based on this request by @rock-n-macabre! This was so much fun to write🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Yandere elements such as stalking, threats, and manipulation. Canon-typical violence and murder. Sexually explicit content that involves bloodplay, choking, mentions of breeding kink. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Death announced its arrival with a holler. The door swung open, and as each one ambled inside the bar with varying degrees of bravado, you knew what they were. Could smell it on them. The crimson glow from the neon lights that washed over each patron was especially appropriate. It’d been years since you met anyone who was like you, and now six were sliding into a large corner booth.

Most of the ragtag bunch didn’t pay you any mind, too absorbed in taking stock of the bar patrons, mostly regulars who you’d known for years. As you mixed drinks and poured beers, you kept an eye on them as best as you could. Then, the older man made eye contact with you. Clearly the de facto leader of the group. For a few moments, you held his gaze. The woman at his side turned to glare at you before a grin spread across her face. Not one to be intimidated, you grabbed the notepad from your apron and made your way over to the table.

“I’m Y/N, how can I help y’all tonight?” you asked with a deceptive cheerfulness, your eyes scanning the group before lowering your voice. “If you’re here for what I think you’re here for, I’m gonna tell you right now, this ain’t the place.”

The older man held up a weathered, assuring hand. “We ain’t gonna encroach your territory.”

You nodded. “Good, then I’ll make some drinks. On the house.”

“Lookit that hospitality,” the shaggy-haired man with his worn leather jacket crooned mockingly. He licked his lips. “Oughta give you a tip.”

“Charming,” you said sardonically. 

The way he looked at you nearly sent a shiver down your spine, but instead you straightened your back, maintaining your composure. He winked at you, and you smiled despite yourself. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said, turning around to walk back to the bar and make the promised drinks.

“Don’t mind Severen,” the woman said, getting up to walk over to the bar with you. “He’s got hot air where his brain should be. I’m Diamondback.” She named the rest of the clan, and you tried to commit their names to memory.

Clans weren’t uncommon among your kind. They guaranteed safety, though it often meant a nomadic lifestyle as to not draw attention to the sheer number of humans killed. This clan, however, seemed almost hellbent on causing a scene, clearly disappointed you were standing between them and having their fun.

You smirked a bit upon hearing the conversation that had started in the corner booth upon your absence.

“What’re the fuckin’ odds,” Jesse sighed.

“What is it?” Caleb asked in a hushed tone.

“Ya don’t gotta whisper,” Severen said. “She can hear us anyhow.”

“She’s one of us?”

Homer made a raspberry noise. “Duh.”

You snickered, bringing your attention to Diamondback, who was grinning at her clan’s antics. “Nice to meet you. I guess.”

Pulling a flask from your apron pocket, you glanced in either direction as you opened it, pouring the contents into each of the drinks you’d made. The blood was best concealed in dark liquor. It was relatively fresh, having drained it from an asshole trucker who had spent half the previous night harassing you. 

Some nights, during long shifts where you couldn’t carve out time to hunt someone down yourself, the gruesome mixture was all that could keep you going. Your instincts scared you sometimes, as people you considered friends so quickly warped into potential meals. Hands shaking, saliva practically dripping from your lips when you handed them their drinks.

“Just you out here?” Diamondback asked, grabbing two glasses while you put the rest on a tray.

“I’m solitary, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hell, good for you. Must be tough.”

“You get used to it.”

Bringing the tray of drinks over, you set each glass in front of the group. Homer smiled when he saw you were giving him the same thing as everyone else. You just hoped Jimmy, the bartender and owner, wouldn’t notice you serving alcohol to someone who looked like an eleven year old boy. You supposed if you were decades old but were stuck in the body of a kid, you wouldn’t appreciate being treated like one by someone who knew better.

Everyone in the clan looked pretty young, save for Jesse. You figured Mae and Caleb had been hardly out of high school when they were turned, Severen and Diamondback in their twenties or thirties, about the same age you had been when you were turned.  

You were impressed as Severen threw back what was in the glass, while everyone else sipped somewhat cautiously. 

“Blood’s not fresh, but it ain’t bad,” Jesse said, the closest you’d get to a compliment from him.

“You’re not gonna run off now, are ya?” Severen asked, not even trying to hide the way he was drinking you in, the murky blood concoction you’d just served dripping from the corner of his lips.

Out of defiance and curiosity, you did the opposite.

“Hey Jimmy!” you shouted. “I’m taking my thirty!”

He gave you a thumbs up from the bar, and you sat down next to Severen. You pulled a pack of cigarettes from your apron pocket, taking one for yourself and leaving the rest on the table, another peace offering of sorts. No fucking trouble in your territory.

“Don’t come across others like us very often,” Jesse said.

“Me either. Y’all are the first ones to come along since I’ve been working here.”

“How long’s that been?” Mae asked.

“‘Bout eight years.”

“We won’t be stayin’ that long,” Jesse said with a chuckle. “Few weeks at most.”

You nodded your silent approval. It’d be nice having others like you around for a while. Besides, they could only do so much damage in a few weeks. The city was far too big for that, though their disregard for human life of any kind gave you some pause, especially since they didn’t feel the need to conceal it from you.

In the following two weeks, they’d come and go during your shifts, some in pairs, some alone, sometimes the whole group. Severen almost always came in when you were working, sitting at the bar and blatantly flirting with you. He nearly started half a dozen fights with men who dared do the same. You found it flattering. Jimmy thought it was bad for business and threatened to ban Severen unless you got him under control. The notion almost made you laugh. You weren’t sure anyone could control him.

As a compromise, you promised to spend one of your nights off with Severen. He jumped at the offer, the two of you meeting outside of the bar just after sunset one warm evening.

“Ridin’ solo tonight, cowboy?” you asked when you walked over to him.

“Somethin’ like that,” he said. “You ever hunt with someone else before?”

“Nope.”

He grinned. “Shit, I get to pop your cherry.”

“Somethin’ like that,” you echoed, smiling when he put his arm around you.

The two of you wandered downtown for a while, ducking in and out of various shops as they were about to close. Being around Severen was the first time in a long time that you didn’t feel like you had to be guarded. Even with your human friends, you always had to hold part of yourself back. 

“You like workin’ at bars?” he asked.

“Yeah, get to meet a lot of interesting people,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s pretty much the only job where I can work the night shift and not worry about sunlight. Plus, everyone’s too drunk to say anything about me looking the same for years.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “How old are you anyway?”

“Don’t you know you should never ask a lady her age?” you said. “If you must know, I’m 74.”

“I reckon I’m about a hundred by now.”

“You’re lying!”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Well, hurry up old man,” you teased. “I’m getting hungry.”

The two of you kept walking until you reached a more isolated part of the city, one where the streetlights flickered endlessly or didn’t work at all. If you didn’t feed at the bar, that area was your usual hunting grounds. The Hooker clan seemed to have the same idea as you, since murders spiked in the area and were all over the news. It was more desolate than ever as a result. 

You and Severen stood in the shadows, observing passersby for your first target of the night. Following Severen’s gaze, you spotted a man leaning against a building, smoking beneath a dim light. You frowned. You knew him. Hank. A regular patron at the bar.

“Severen, not him.”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot for these people.”

“He has a wife and kids at home,” you pleaded softly.

Severen looked from the man to you, his hands balled into fists as he huffed. “There anyone around here you don’t know?”

“That’s why I work in bars. Got my pick of strangers.”

“And it don’t bother you none that they might have a wife and kids at home?”

You were silent for a moment as you weakly defended yourself. “It’s different.”

“No, it ain’t,” he said, grabbing your arm. “You gotta toughen up, baby.” The term of endearment left a sour taste in your mouth when he used it, mocking your hesitation, your sentimentality. 

He practically dragged you over to Hank, this man you’d known for years, who’d proudly shown you his kids’ school photos every fall. Hank’s eyes lit up in recognition upon seeing you, but just as quickly that light went out when Severen released you from his grip and dug his fingers into Hank’s scalp. You watched, mortified as Hank’s neck snapped at the force Severen used to pull his head back. 

Severen didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into Hank’s skin, lapping up the blood that flowed freely from the wound he inflicted. The primal hunger that you tried so hard to control clouded your senses, as did an unprecedented lust for the savage man before you, who had no qualms about killing, enjoyed it even. He was free, undoubtedly dangerous, and you couldn’t keep yourself from feeding on Hank’s dying body with him. 

You indulged, feeling the familiar satisfaction of consuming blood rush through your body like a bolt of lightning. Sometimes, when you were especially famished, feeding felt better than sex. Between the blood and Severen pawing at you, humping your blood-soaked body like a stray dog, you felt dizzy.

“I need you,” he practically growled. “Fuck, baby.”

“I know, but we can’t stick around here.” You panted, your hands fruitlessly trying to keep his passion at bay. “My place ain't far.”

His frustration tore through his throat, the blood dripping from his chin the epitome of the apex predator in the moonlight. Nevertheless, he relented, the two of you rushing to your car, which you’d parked just a block over from the bar, as if something in you sensed something like this would happen. The area was dark and mostly desolate, and you took off before he’d even fully shut the passenger door.

You didn’t live far, though the drive felt endless even with your doing twenty over and running through red lights. The headlights seemed to cross as you swerved about the road, trying to drive steady with Severen practically climbing over to your seat, hands roughly groping your breasts while he dug his teeth into your skin.

He shoved his hand between your legs, rubbing the heel of his palm against your cunt, the fabric from your jeans creating a rough friction that you keened into, and your arms jerked as you nearly steered off the side of the road.

“Fuckin’ pull over,” he ordered, his voice low.

“Almost there.”

“Yeah?” 

He applied more pressure, and you moaned, seeing your street in the distance. “Yeah, right there.”

By the time you pulled haphazardly into the driveway, you felt like your heart was going to explode if it even beat at all. The small house you rented was relatively secluded for the area, something you were especially thankful for as you were sure you and Severen would draw attention from any passersby.

Not bothering with the lights, you pulled him by his belt loops into your bedroom, his lips attached to yours until you began peeling off your blood-soaked clothes. The copper scent that filled the room nearly had you drooling, and as soon as he kicked off his boots, you pounced on him.

He reached between you, fingers rubbing circles in your clit, your pussy already sensitive from his teasing in the car.

“Severen, c’mon,” you whined. “Don’t—ah—“

You could feel the tip of his cock poke at your wet cunt, and you lifted your hips in response. He slid into you, his thrusts deep and hard. Sex with human men was underwhelming, but it was something. Severen was a different beast entirely. You choked on your own moan, wrapping around your throat until you realized it was his hand, you could actually feel it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna be good and take it all, ain’t you, baby?”

You nodded frantically, unable to speak.

“Knew you would—fuck—“

He pounded into you, your pussy clenching around his cock. Sweat brought the dried blood on your skin almost back to life, the smell triggering something deep in you as your bodies practically stuck together. Though he stared intensely in your eyes, you struggled to keep yours open as you neared your orgasm. He reached his first, though, a deep groan as he threw his head back, hips bucking violently against you as you felt warmth fill you.

Pleasure cracked through your body like a whip, and you arched your back, a moan coming from deep in your belly as you came. You couldn’t remember the last time your muscles ached, a dull pain as you settled next to Severen, who’d collapsed beside you on the bed.

“Does this always happen when you hunt with someone?”

“Once. A long time ago. She was a lil’ too wild for me, even.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, lightly hitting his bare chest.

“You oughta come with us. Forget this place and be with your own kind,” he said. 

“It’s not that simple. I’ve made a life here. I have a job, and friends,” you said, as if you hadn’t eaten one of those friends just a few hours earlier.

“You ain’t lonely?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “You don’t ever feel suffocated with so many people around all the time?”

“No, I do best with an audience.”

“I can tell.”

When morning came, your blackout curtains shielded you and Severen from the unforgiving sun, the two of you curled up in your bed, dried blood caked on your skin. About an hour before your shift, you took a shower, though you couldn’t quite scrub all of the blood from your nails. You hoped no one at the bar would notice.

Severen had made himself busy wandering around your house, opening every drawer and cabinet he came across when you told him you were headed to work. He nodded, not sparing you a glance when he mentioned he and the rest of the clan would stop by later on. Strange.

Your car’s upholstery was fucked, but you hoped with enough bleach and elbow grease, you could get it looking less like a murder scene. It kind of was one. You tried not to think about that too much.

Otherwise, your shift went by without consequence, though you’d heard people talking about how Hank had been found brutally murdered.

“You sure you wanna work tonight?” Jimmy asked. “If you wanna go home early, you can. Cops are sayin’ it was an animal attack, but I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy. Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile that just as quickly fell when you saw Severen walk in with the rest of the Hooker clan. 

He hadn’t even bothered to clean the previous night’s blood off, giving you a wicked grin when he saw you.

“How're you shitkickers feelin’ tonight?” he hollered. “Better be great, ‘cause it’s gonna be your last.”

Jesse grabbed a bottle off the bar, smashing it against a man’s face and then pouncing when he collapsed on the floor in pain.

“What the—“ Jimmy muttered, reaching for the rifle he kept beneath the bar.

You watched in horror as Severen jumped on top of the bar, and with a fluid kick, sliced Jimmy’s throat open with the razor sharp spurs on the heel of his boot. Your boss collapsed in your arms, his garbled choking noises drowned out by the sound of gushing blood, and possessed by your instincts, you devoured, your thirst leaving you content to ignore the pandemonium that had broken out among the patrons.

Their shouts echoed in your ears. Bitch. Monster. Demon. Vampire. Someone had thrown a bottle at you. You didn’t even flinch.

By the time you had come to your senses, blood dripping from your mouth, eyes wide and wild, the clan had made a meal of nearly everyone in sight. You caught Severen’s gaze, an expression of pride and affection on his blood-covered face. You stormed over to him, grabbing him by his jacket collar.

“Why did you do that? I’ve known these people for nearly ten years and—“

“Ten years ain’t nothin’. ‘Nother ten and most of ‘em would be dead anyway.”

“That’s not the point! They were my—“

“Friends? Some friends, turned on you real fast once they saw you chowin’ down on your old boss.”

“You better decide what your next move is quick, ‘cause once we burn this place down, cops are gonna be here faster than you can blink,” Diamondback said from a few feet away, pushing aside a young man she’d just drained of blood. Letterman jacket. College football star. Not anymore.

“She’s coming with us,” Severen said in a tone you knew there was no use in trying to argue against. “No more of this human bullshit.”

Jesse nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s light this place up.”

You watched helplessly as they grabbed bottles off the bar, stuffing them with cloth they’d ripped from the bodies of the dead patrons and rushing outside. Severen handed you a bottle, and you had little choice but to throw the explosive when he lit the end of it, watching the life you’d so carefully built for yourself literally go up in flames.

Hearing sirens in the distance, you took Severen’s hand, tears blurring your vision as you ran into the uncertainty of your nomadic life with the Hooker clan.

#severen x reader #near dark #slasher x reader #severen van sickle #severen near dark #severen #near dark 1987 #slasher fandom #slasher community #vampire x reader

[underthecitysky]

From Jesse Tedesci/ @jtedesci on twitter (x) 👈

(follow☝️ for lots of great, rare Beatles content)

Full text is under the cut..

Some things are just wrong like “a woman” coming daily to cook and clean after Mary died.

& I don’t think Jim was sitting in on the piano during their practice sessions (lol) but the headline here to me is.. is this a rare pic of toddler Paul??

Is it him? I mean it most likely is vs them faking it or mistaking it for the article, though those early teen mag articles often seem like a mix of fact and fiction. I guess I just haven’t seen a smiling photo from when he was this small so it doesn’t quite look like him to me.

It also made me lol that they talk about Paul getting into trouble for speeding and drop in "there was also a bit of trouble when when a girl claimed that Paul was the father of her illegitimate baby, and her father was hopping mad"

That escalated quickly lol 👀

As Paul said about Japan 1980 "a spot of bother"

Full text below

The Story Of A Beatle's EarlyDays

by Cheryl Hillman

Hitparader, July 1965

The little boy in the picture was born on the 18th of June, 1942. His name?

James Paul McCartney. Yes, the Paul McCartney, left-handed Beatle bass guitarist. Of course, when this photo was taken Paul didn't know a guitar from a violin and a beetle was a "creepie-crawlie." His mother died when he was very young, but his father brought him and his brother up. He was named after his father and took after him musically as well. Before ihe war Mr. McCartney had a jazz band, and many years later when the Beatles were starting he often sat in at the piano during practices. A woman would come in daily to clean and to make some of Paul's meals, but Paul's father did a great deal to make a family life for his motherless children.

Paul became involved in beat music at the time when the Shadows type of music was all the rage in England. All the groups here were trying like mad to imitate them. The groups spent hours practicing, trying to work out a Shadows-type stage routine. It seems crazy now, but anybody getting on an 86 bus in those days was liable to bump into young Paul McCartney taking his instruments down to the Cavern. Chances are, though, that nobody would look twice at the long-hair-ed youth sitting on the number 86 holding a guitar case.

He had met the other Beatles gradually. George was encountered at the Liverpool Institute High School. They were lively lads, but surprisingly they didn't stir the place up too much. They weren't exactly angels, though! Paul can dig back into his memory and remember sneaking into the toilets, or behind the air-raid shelters, for a quick smoke between les-sons. The institute is one of the best schools in England, and, as in many English schools, the school was divided Into "houses." Each pupil is placed in a “house" at the start of his life in a school and is supposed to support it during sporting events, etc. The Institute is divided into "houses" and Paul was in Danson House. It's difficult to think of Paul wearing a black and green school cap, isn't it?

Despite George's influence, Paul did well at school, even though playing in a beat group at night meant that most of his homework had to be done very early in the morning before school. Paul stayed on at school to study at Advanced level, and when he left he even had a certificate in English Literature at Advanced level, which is pretty good.

John Lennon got himself in the papers for fighting when he was drunk, but not to be outdone, Paul also got himself in the newspapers at one point. He got his driving license taken off him and was banned from driving for a year for speeding . There was also a bit of trouble when a girl claimed that Paul was the father of her illegitimate baby, and her father was hopping mad.

One New Year's Eve, during a Cavern "all nighter" (all night session) a young girl who was drunk was "dared" by Paul's brother) to go up to Paul and kiss him. Of course, she did so. She flung her arms round Paul as he was coming off stage, kissed him...and fainted. A little while later the Beatles were at the top of the Hit Parade. I don't know if Paul remembers the incident, but that girl certainly hasn't forgotten it. She's engaged now, but last week she said to me: “I was potty on Paul, then! It was gear kissing him". I bet it was. 

#paul McCartney #follow Jesse tedesci on twitter #A++ content #young Paul

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

jack for the ask thing. tell me about ur boy

@thetardigrape also asked me about him but Jess got here first lol

So. Favorite thing about him: There are so many great things about him but I'm just gonna go with that he's Ed's evil ex, which tells me a lot of information about my best beloved blorbo. Thank you, Jack for opening my eyes.

least favorite: He doesn't get enough screen time. I want more of him.

Favoriate line: Oh god there are so many good ones but the one that broke my brain personally was "Blackie and I have had our dalliances" and "Sorry, Pissed on you boots." The whole piss scene is my favoriate Jack scene and I'm kissing him on the mouth for it.

brOTP and OTP are the same for him: these two

Look at them, they're so The Hangover.

nOTP: I don't really have any for him. If you assert he would fuck a character I can come up with a scenario for them that I don't hate. Maybe Chauncey? Just because I can't get horny about him fucking that man?

random headcannon: He has every STD but they all cancel each other out, so he's good.

Unpopular Opinion: I have many. He is or was in love with Ed, he's just too emotionally stunted to do anything other than toxic pigtail puller behavior about it. He's gayer than Izzy. He's gay and homophobic but in a funny way so I'll let it slide. He's not actually as bad as everyone thinks he is but also he's the worst because he contains multitudes. When he said "what kind of pirate has a friend" he didn't actually mean it he was just mad at Ed for going back to Stede and was trying to hurt him on the way out by implying their relationship never meant anything to him and I will hold up when he literally introduced himself as "a friend" when talking to buttons as evidence of this. He and Ed cuddled after sex he was just very gross about it.

Song I associate with them: I have a whole playlist but I'll give you my top 3. Content warning for sexist lyrics: One More Bottle by Hollywood Undead, RICHMAN by 3oh!3, Fucked By A Country Boy by Wheeler Walker JR. Also I frequently rotate him and Ed together to PUNKBITCH by 3oh!3. Honestly you could throw a dart at the Want album by 3oh!3 and you'd probably get a good Jack song.

Fav Picture of them: I saw this thing on twitter and I'm pretty into it tbh

#calico jack #ofmd

[aschlindartroom]

Find the Word: Tag Game

Thanks to @whimsyqueen for tagging me! My words are down, cold, change, and water!

I'm tagging @stormbrightwriter, @dgwriteblr, @jezifster, @jess-p-edits, and @tryingtimi for the words dark, damn(ed), deep, and dust. I feel like I'm always tagging the same people. Gotta get to know all of the other writeblr blogs a little better!

Down

Rhen watched the slow slide of the wall as the freight elevator descended into inky darkness, gripped with palpable unease. Last she had ridden it was a lifetime ago, it seemed—Bhakti, Antoni, Kainnon, and herself. Four years younger, consumed with purpose, they had ascended from the belly of that wretched place for the last time. Or so they thought. Kainnon had taken her slender hand in his and had pressed its back against his cheek, a comfort to them both. His eyes were tender, then, looking down at her through thick lashes. Without the need of a mask to muzzle his teeth, his soft lips had mouthed the words, "I love you." The Dyd had opened the doors—parted the red sea to liberate them. They were gone before anyone noticed the seed they had planted. Gone before the screams began.

Cold

The shadow of what was to come was small, then—noonday inevitability. It would take three more years to notice its encroaching, and only when it was pressed against the tips of his small boots would the unease strike him-- that same unease that strikes every child when death ceases to be a concept and becomes a thing that happens. A possibility, deep and nauseating: that someday, his mother would be gone. Arms, thin but strong, pulled him close. Warm skin. A tremor shot through him, partly tears and partly the cold. Always cold in Cobalt City. It pushed him further into the safety of her breast. Her fingers carding through his hair.

Change

“You’ll always have enemies, Seung,” Rhen sighed, smile unfailing. "You'll seek them out, hungry for righteousness." Rhen took Seung’s hand and held it firmly, Seung’s fingers hanging from her grip with uncertain stiffness. “This crusade you’re waging… you’ll lose, you know. You’ll lose it because you don’t know when to stop and bury your dead.” The two women locked eyes. Rhen’s face changed, almost imperceptibly—a plea. “Lay down arms, Seung,” she said. “Rest and find contentment in whatever kingdom you already have. Don’t condemn yourself to martyrdom. Life is precious. Your life is precious to me.”

Water

Seung hid the coloring of her cheeks with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. She sat down beside Rhen. “It feels like you’re trying to pry me open,” Seung said. Rhen shrugged. “I am,” she admitted. She cocked her head and dragged Seung’s eyes back to her. She did not reach out, did not inch closer, when she asked, “Do you want me to stop? You know that I will, if you ask.” Seung knew what she should say. It shouldn’t have been difficult to fix Rhen with a look of certainty and tell her to stop, to admonish her for assuming that she wanted the door open in the first place, to tell Rhen that she was stronger and more capable with it closed. Something caught her tongue and held it. Seung thought of her father’s knuckles against her cheek, that caress that both burned and bloomed with light. The feeling of a cool sip of water during a drought, or a bite of food during a famine—relief and uncertainty, hand in hand. A realization struck Seung with heart-stopping clarity: How wonderful it might feel for the drought to end.

#second serpent #bird and fish #writeblr #writing community #second serpent wip #writers of tumblr #novel #bird and fish wip #tage games #tag game #rhen #seung kim

[scottwbeattie]

Review: The Flash: Rebirth

A Good Attempt at Fixing the Title That Doesn't Work for Me

There is no one in the comics industry who is better than Geoff Johns when it comes to taking convoluted continuity and streamlining it into something that is exciting and readable for both newer and long-time readers. This is why he's consistently been one of the most commercially successful comics writers of the modern era. The list of characters that he's revived for DC is staggering: Teen Titans, the Justice Society, Green Lantern, Hawkman, and Aquaman. All of these titles were languishing before he turned them around with his magic touch. He actually did this for the Flash once before in the early 2000's, but after Barry Allen returned in Final Crisis, Johns also came back to the title to hopefully kick-start a new era for the Scarlet Speedster. Was he successful? It depends on what you're looking for.

While I admire, on a technical level, the way that Johns is able to massage decades of continuity into one clean narrative, I can't say that I enjoy The Flash: Rebirth. The problem is that the story essentially double-downs on many of the elements of The Flash that I personally don't like: the tendency to try to make the Speed Force more complex than necessary and the fact that, honestly, there are just too many speedsters in the DC Universe.

I realize that the latter may be a point of contention for a lot of fans (and I say this as someone who also likes Johnny and Jesse Quick, Max Mercury, etc.), but nine is simply too many. The Flash family is not a police force like the Green Lantern Corps (and even then there are way too many human GLs) and they only operate in Central City and Hub City, so there's no need for so many of them. Johns tries to make use of all nine in order to stop Thawne's plan, but it ends up ringing false, because it feels like Johns had to massively overpower Thawne in order to justify using the entire Flash family. Obviously, a lot of people were not happy about the New 52, particularly the way that Wally was basically erased, but comparing it with the pre-Flashpoint Flash family demonstrates how much cleaner having only one Flash* makes the DC Universe.

Likewise, I also was not a fan of the way in which Johns expanded the Speed Force. To me, the Speed Force is at its best when it's a fairly simple plot device for explaining the Flash's powers ala the Force in Star Wars. When writers try to overcomplicate it, as many have both before and after Johns, it just comes across as a bunch of pseudo-scientific bullshit.

Although the A-plot of The Flash: Rebirth didn’t work for me, the book does shine during the smaller moments, particularly the interactions between characters. Barry Allen isn’t the most dynamic character in the DC universe, but his everyman persona works well in contrast with the bigger personalities of Hal Jordan. Further, his love for Iris, as written by Johns, is both sweet and relatable. One other advantage of Johns’ cinematic storytelling style (especially his use of splash and double-splash pages) is that even when the narrative isn’t working, you still get a lot of really cool moments.

In order to trade in on the success of Green Lantern: Rebirth, Johns’ collaborator from that book, Ethan van Sciver, also provides the art for The Flash: Rebirth. Van Sciver is hated by large portions of the comics internet, which makes it difficult to have any kind of discussion involving him, but if you look at his artwork purely as art, then he is a very good storyteller. Although he works in the same post-Image school as others like Tony S. Daniel, Ed Benes, David Fitch, and Jason Fabok, van Sciver’s fundamentals are much stronger than most of the artists in that school. He has dynamic but clear layouts and his anatomy doesn’t fall in and out of proportion. That said, I don’t really think he’s the best choice for a Flash artist, which, in my mind, needs a more cartoony aesthetic.**

Ultimately, there’s a reason why The Flash: Rebirth doesn’t have the staying power that many of Johns’ other projects do. While the creative team is obviously capable, and Johns knows the Flash as well as anyone, there are just a lot narrative elements that really don’t work. Personally, I tend to believe that Flash stories are often at their best when they tell something very simple, and when you try to stretch them in order to make an event comic, you can see all the cracks and seams. It’s worth noting that, Johns’ first arc on the relaunched Flash title that followed this, The Dastardly Death of the Rogues, was excellent. While The Flash: Rebirth isn’t a great story, if you think of it as a necessary step to get Barry Allen back as the Flash, then it was worthwhile…..but it’s also entirely skippable.

*-Yes, Bart Allen was also in the New 52, but he was in the Teen Titans and had literally no interaction and never appeared in the main Flash title.

**-In my mind, Francis Manapul was the perfect Flash artist. Now that I think of it, I’d also love to see R.B. Silva’s or Mahmud Asrar’s take.

#comics #comic review #2000s comics #flash #the flash #barry allen #wally west #johnny quick #jesse quick #max mercury #bart allen #iris west #geoff johns #ethan van sciver #dc comics #dc #reverse flash

[minipliny]

For the end of year book asks: 11, 17, 25 please and thank?

11 A book that was most out of your comfort zone

Probably Idol by Louise O'Neill! I don't usually read books that are set right in the present day, or thrillers, or books about social media/the Internet, but I am glad I read it. It's about an Instagram influencer promoting spirituality, self confession, and feminist healing who is herself accused of sexual assault by a childhood friend, so, major content warnings for discussion and depiction of sexual violence. I thought it was quite a compelling take on the kind of parasocial relationships gone wrong of the Internet era and how the idea of the first person confessional tell all can sometimes not be about truth but about crafting a certain type of story. I often wince at stories which are meant to capture ~the zeitgeist~ but this felt like a specific story about a specific situation that stuck its landing rather than like reading an op Ed.

17 Top 5 books of the year

Petina Gappah, out of Darkness, Shining Light which I am instantly and personally recommending to you because it is the story of Dr livingstone's African servants transporting his body to the coast from their perspective and Gappah creates an incredible transformative text and set of characters I'm still thinking about, it 2as brilliant

Piranesi, Susanna Clarke. This was absolutely fantastic, also impossible to pigeonhole into any known genre or situation. It's still swirling around in my mind and i just love how completely perfectly realised and also deeply ambiguous the House is. It's not a metaphor, it just is.

The Shadow King, Maaza Mengiste. Made me cry very hard for the last 100 pages which is hard to do. A proper modern war epic, that somehow summons up all the honour and glory of the characters facing down the Italians with all the terrible ugliness and gendered violence and hierarchies and contradictions of their lives and societies at once.

Afterparties, Anthony Veasna So. A set of short stories set in California in the Cambofian diaspora which contains the most fantastic story about trying to teach Moby Dick in the Bay Area and what Moby Dick even means and what being a professor and being expected to represent anything in writing even means and which is just like layer upon geological layer of meaning as well as really, deeply funny and well observed.

Transcendent Kingdom, Yaa Gyasi. On a lot of people's lists, and I gave in and read it, and it is that good. I love a book about doing neuroscientific experiments on rats with cocaine, and I love about faith without being about faith in any obvious way. But what put this on my top 5 is that there is so much hope in its narrative in the bittersweetness of it, and I felt like I really needed that when I read it.

25 Did you discover any new authors?

Yes! Jess Kidd, The Night Ship, which is an amazing retelling of the Batavia sinking and mutiny which I almost put in my top 5, Petina Gappah whose second book I'm now reading, Margaret Drabble (not new as in now, but new to me) after reading the Seven Sisters, Mavis Gallant whose short stories blew my mind, Elizabeth Strout, Julie Otsuka, Moris Farhi, Darragh Martin....

[living-dead-author]

Welcome to my third blog I’m Vance and my main is @slasher-male-wife. I’m using this blog to post my nsfw content. Please read the rule and character list below before requesting anything.

Masterlist

Do not interact if you are

Proshippers

Republicans/conservatives

Terfs, transmed, transphobic in general

Under 18

Ed blog

Homophobic

If you fetishize any LGBTQ identity

Will write for

Most kinks (If unsure just ask)

AFAB, GN, Transmasc reader (As of right now I'm not confident in my writing ability for AMAB bodies)

Head canons

One shots

Poly characters x reader

Yandere characters

Fluff

Iffy

Oral

Hard kinks (More willing to write them if they're in a more 'kind' or 'loving' way)

Degrading kink

Daddy/Mommy kink (This could become a no go)

AMAB reader

CNC

Female reader

Public stuff

Semen (Excessive talk of this is a no go)

Never will write about this

NSFW things for underage characters

Anal or penetrative sex outside of oral

DDLG/ABLD/Anything ageplay related

Bathroom kinks like scat, piss, vomit

Dehumanization

Heavy degrading

Anything non-con

Fingering

Feet

Breeding

Detrans

Characters

Horror characters

Black Christmas: Billy Lenz

Halloween: Michael Myers (og or rob zombie), Corey Cunningham

The Boy: Brahms Heelshire

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Nubbins Sawyer, Chop top Sawyer, Vanita "Stretch" Brock

House of wax: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Behind the mask: Leslie Vernon

House of 1000 corpses: Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly

The Lost boys: David, Paul, Marko, Dwayne, Michael, Star

The Black phone: The Grabber/Albert Shaw

Spree: Kurt Kunkle

Friday the 13th: Jason Voorhees

Child's play: Tiffany Valentine

Re-animator: Herbert West, Dan Cain

Saw: Amanda Young, Adam Faulkner, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm

Candy man: The Candy man/ Daniel Robitaille

31: Doomhead

Psycho: Norman Bates

My bloody valentine: Harry Warden

American psycho: Patrick Bateman

Hannibal nbc: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Near dark: Severen

Laid to rest: Jesse Cromeans

Martin: Martin Mathias

The Collector: Asa Emory/The Collector

Thanksgiving: Sheriff Eric Newlon

The Walking dead

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Negan Smith

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Dead by Daylight

Danny Johnson/Ghostface

Pyramid head

Any slasher listed in the above section that is in dbd

Interview with the vampire 1995

Lestat De Lioncourt

Louis De Pointe Du Lac

Call of Duty

Phillip Graves

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Misc. Characters

Johnathan Crane/Scarecrow (DC, based off Cillian Murphy portrayal)