#vamp girls and also one country girl!!

[derelictheretic]

OC TAG GAME

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefae and @detectivelokis !! Ty 💕💕💕

Not quite sure whose done this since i've been. absent. so i'mma send tags out to @deputyash @bluemojave @adelaidedrubman @bl-beater @jollybone @clicheantagonist @florbelles @unholymilf @henbased @ishwaris @megraen @shellibisshe @trashcatsnark @v0idbuggy @wewillryesagain No pressure as always !!

Favourite OC

Currently I would say Lola is holding that spot, she's fun to draw and write for and I just spin her in my brain like a rotisserie chicken all day she brings me so much joy to think about. She's also my first transfem OC so she,,,,, is so special 2 me <3

My consistent faves of all time tho are my boy Damien (my half demon half vamp man), my girl Lucy (She is a unicorn shifter and I Adore she sooooo much) and ofc my creacher Dean uvu

Oldest OC

Damien!! He's from my first original story I ever made and I've had him for 7 to 8 years!! He rotates in my head forever even tho I barely talk about him 👉👈 His story has changed a few times but his design has stayed pretty consistent! He means the world to me and so does his story and one day I will bring it to life ashsjsjs

Newest OC

That would be Lola!!!! I'd been wanting another unhinged lady to play around with and felt like having a pink murder lady as well and thus Lola was born 🥺 She brings serotonin and I love playing around with her relationships with the other characters!

Meanest OC

Hmmm this is a tough one but it's probably Heather! Heather is actively mean on purpose and loves her passive aggression and tearing people down through her words. She smiles while pointing out all ur insecurities and faults and will laugh if u cry <3 bestest worstie wife ever <333

I have a few other mean OC's like Rilo (Demon lord) but he's on a much bigger scale of wanting to commit genocide against all supernatural creatures soooo he's just like evil less so just mean. Very smile in ur face while he obliterates ur very atoms kinda vibe,, hate him so <3

Softest OC

This is impossible I have too many softies,, But probably Lucy! She's a pacifist and just has the biggest heart, she's very empathetic and always wants to help people even if there is nothing she can do in a situation. She also is just very soft in nature like she has a gentle touch and soft voice and sweet eyes that will make u cry and tell her all ur problems while she holds u.

Most aloof/standoffish

I have a few of these too lol I'd say it's a tie between Michael, Silas (Eldritch horror slasher) or Pheonix (Marvel OC besties with Wade). Silas probably wins because he doesn't tolerate talking to humans in any circumstance and just seeing him tends to send people running. Silent, brooding, grumpy eldritch horror man my beloved.

Smartest OC

I have a sentient AI OC called HEXX and he has knowledge from all across the galaxy (being an AI for a spaceship he needs it lol) so I'd say that'd be him! Ask him anything and he has the answer, just don't ask him about love bc he will have his 1010th identity crisis and the ship will suffer it's 1010th failing and emergency landing :)

Dumbest (affectionate) OC

Hmmm i'm gonna say my baby boy Ky bc he's my literal himbo lmao He has zero thoughts in his pretty little head!! Only loving friends and having fun!!!! Golden retriever boy only know eat hot food and love everyone!!!!! No but he genuinely is so,, so stupid,,, the one thing he can somehow do on his own is cook, baking is off limits he will burn down the kitchen......

OC's I'd be friends with irl

I have a few I think it'd get along with so I'll narrow it down to three!

Piper; We would vibe in a makeshift tree house and play video games and I'd listen to her gush over women (Faith) for hours and she'd judge my horrid taste in men <3 She'd probably also beat me in poker and steal all my money.

Fredrick; my genderfluid god would take me to so many concerts and drag me across the country to get something they bought off of eBay and I would have a blast.

My lil tech nerd Keiden; he likes coding and games, I can kind of code and like games, it just makes sense. We'd play raft and Minecraft and make epic structures and talk about what we would do different with the game mechanics.

#nervous about putting my non fandom ocs I always feel self concious talking abt them lol #but I love them and I wanna talk about them more........ #misc: tag game #oc: Lola Darling #oc: Michael Sinclaire #oc: Piper Vasquez #oc: Damien Bryne #oc: Lucy Collins #oc: Fredrick Collins #oc: Heather Lucille Valentine #oc: Rilo #oc: Ky Cartier

[horizon-verizon]

Why are there many radfems/terfs who like Alicent? Does it has anything to do with the childbride thing?

Basically, since both (some) RadFems and (all) TradCaths wish to regress women to this status of "thing that is helpless or diminutive against male aggression/authority" (and not say or believe it is possible for a woman to have power), then Alicent is their goddess and representation of what they think is the "reality" of a woman, what she is and looks like.

A)

I and @rhaenyragendereuphoria wrote/reblogged about why some people liked the ship Rhaenicent HERE. Many of the points we bring up still apply to just Alicent, since this ship is really about Alicent and her using Rhaenyra's "cool" to further her own (how the shippers feel if not admit). 

To make this shorter, let’s apply a trope to Alicent. rhaenyragendereuphoria mentions how Alicent fits under and is written towards the Proper Lady trope which:

is a gentle yet strong being, incorruptible and pure as the driven snow, as unlike The Vamp as she comes, and Madonna-like in her virtues. She sacrifices herself for the good of her family, religion, and country. She is intelligent enough to smoothly run a household, and wisely spends her husband's money for the good of her family, never guilty of negligence or selfish frivolity. She possesses the wit, taste, and esprit necessary to be a star of Society, and never crosses the border of good taste and civility. She is devoted and loyal, never treacherous or scheming. Her manners are never less than impeccable, and her good will and charity are a beacon to those lucky enough to live around her.

And even the Team Mom trope (episode 2 where she “guides” Rhaenyra). 

Now Alicent doesn’t fit totally into Proper Lady trope because she actually  schemes and is treacherous against Rhaenyra, her supposed friend. But the fact she tries to uphold the conservative priorities of “sacrifice” (sacrificing oneself for the supposed “greater good” of the conservative social order/feudal class and gender hierarchy by dutifully following the rules). 

Basically Alicent is the perfect “good girl” -- the feudal version -- because she pushes for people to obey the hierarchal social order and its rules, but Alicent’s character on HotD also is very contradictory and changed drastically so that her motivations are confounding. I basically pinned two-three different and related options: 

feel she “deserves” to gain the rewards of having her sons inherit the throne

make all Rhaenyra subordinate to her (psychologically making up for her “sacrifice” in gving up her body) and have this one girl/former recognize her superior authority

make Rhaenyra and women also have to follow the rules so she doesn’t have to feel as miserable and jilted as she does

So Alicent comes across as this victim of both the patriarchal system in place and a victim of not getting what she deserves for “playing her part” and obeying that very system. She is “relatable”, as @la-pheacienne says:

People don’t relate to these exceptional heroines because they are not looking for exceptional characters. They are looking for a more successful or a more glamourous version of themselves.  

 Does this sound counterintuitive, since such hierarchies don’t “care” about how you feel and actually prioritizes the will of the ruler/clan-or-house head? Yes. Just don’t tell that to a green stan and not expect to get a bunch of ad hominem “arguments”.

B)

Though they hypocritically bleat about how the patriarchy in Westeros is their culture or something that no one then could escape, they, yes, use the idea that Alicent was a child bride (15 when married) in HotD (even if you tried to say the same of her original character she wasn’t since she was 18 when she married Viserys in the book), they don’t care about history and how environment and/or know that Westerosi nobles have been marrying their young girls from the time they got their first period. 

Ancient and medieval people -- even going into the early-mid 1800s -- died a lot sooner than they do now in Western societies due to lack of knowledge and tech, so everyone married much sooner. Plus, as la-pheacienne says in another POST, where they say:

The problem with the word “grooming” is that it’s not a neutral word. It’s a word with a very heavy meaning, that frames an individual who has a perverse, unnatural sexual desire for children whereas the society this individual lives in has decided (fortunately) that these children are not to be considered in a sexual way. So this individual breaks a fundamental moral code of the society they live in, and they do it so skillfully that they go the extra mile as to manipulate their way into basically, committing the crime that constitutes child sex abuse. It is a crime punished by law. You go to prison for it. Everybody knows it is perverse, unnatural behaviour, everybody tries to protect their children from it, and children themselves have a certain knowledge that it is NOT ok for an adult to approach them that way.

Grooming cannot be applicable to Alicent and Viserys, Rhaenrya and Viserys. grooming can’t be used as a serious criticism when the persons involved expect to get married this way and actually can find/use power through such unions. The problem with Alicent marrying Viserys, as presented in HotD, should have been how Otto pressures her into it, not how Viserys chooses her. Because Viserys doing that is actually him choosing not to go for a girl even younger, a 12 year old.

Child-brides work in the context of a world where such marriages intentionally flout rules/laws/ against them in the larger context where the idea of youth vs childhood itself becomes totally realized. And it wasn’t in the ancient/medieval ages. We’d have to wait until the 19th century when people focused more on instructing children and the Romantics for that one, and even then the idea of childhood came from the Romantics wanting to isolate themselves from the sociopolitical demands and smog of the then industrial age. a “return” to the “innocence” of early life. Some wrote works that emphasized:

childhood came to be seen as especially close to God and a force for good [...] Jean-Jacques Rousseau, whose Émile, or On Education (1762) not only rejects the doctrine of Original Sin, but maintains that children are innately innocent, only becoming corrupted through experience of the world.

But they use “child bride” with ignorance and the intent to prove how Alicent is the “real” and only victim aside from Aemond. The actual protagonist/the story’s central interest. And it certainly doesn’t help when the actual show and its writers refuse to frame Alicent as anything but a deluded misogynist in no uncertain terms more than they display her as helpless time and time again: Olivia Cooke plays her as frantic and beset by here fear that Rhaenyra would kill her kids and she looks very pathetic and helpless when she protests against Aemond’s eyes lost. there is her with Larys.

All of these come across as Alicent being beleaguered by disobedient, “over”- privileged royals (meanwhile, her father is Hand and she comes from the richest, one of the most influential houses in Westeros).

Finally, if Alicent is a child bride, their “sympathy” should extend to Rhaenyra, who was canonically forced to marry Laenor when she was 17 and he was 20. It should extend towards Daenerys Targaryen, who not only marries Drogo at 13, she is actually sold into sexual slavery to the same man who becomes her first husband. But it doesn't, because Valyrian/Targ girls are all evil for being Targaryen.

That in of itself tells you that Alicent being a child bride is not the real reason why many of the stan her or think she is "right". They stan her because many of them think she is more relatable and deserves a reward for her obedience to the patriarchal system in place that victimizes her in the first place. They love her because she is the "good girl" who should have found success. Nothing more, nothing less.

#asoiaf asks to me #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #alicent hightower #alicent's characterization #characterization #hotd characterization #hotd comment #House of the Dragon #hotd #fandom commentary #hotd fandom #fandom critical #anti alicent stans #greens stan nonsense #green stans

[see-arcane]

Clarimonde living her best undead life because she knows how to behave, and hunt in public, while every single other vampire (or vampire clan) is out there sweating bullets, feels correct.

She was the number one party girl in Paris, and she will take the party whenever she goes. So what if she befriends this cute little lady Lucy while she is in England, having human friends is easy for her. Clarimonde even likes Lucy's friend Mina, even if Mina thinks that she is a weird influence on Lucy. But oh wait, who is that fucker bringing a professor who studied vampire folklore to her vacation country? :)

Full honesty, I think it'd be a very lopsided interaction if Clarimonde just waltzed into the Dracula cast's lives. Van Helsing might succeed in poofing her into dust with his sacred paraphernalia...only to be dumbfounded when her dust coalesces long enough to say:

"Nice try. What fool did you study under, Serapion?"

She doesn't mean harm, but she's a very very liberated ancient/young lady while the rest of the ensemble are, you know. Victorian. Oddly, I think the Harkers would probably get on with her quickest, though Clarimonde would absolutely take the wind out of Mina's 'I'm not a New Woman!' sails with endless delight.

Probably while pointing out Mrs. Harker can count the amount of women she knows on one hand and have fingers left over, and that, unlike many, many women in the world, she and Miss Westenra landed on a veritable jackpot of chivalrous and caring gentlemen. Broaden your horizons, Madam.

Also, being a career mistress/courtesan, she might mistakenly step on some trauma when she tries to play-flirt with any of the guys. Especially Jonathan.

(Cue psychic backlash. Seeing his time in the castle. Oh. Oh dear. I'm so sorry--wait.)

"That's the prick who tried to follow me in Piccadilly!"

At which point she invites herself into the vampire hunting gang--sorry, Dutchman, invitation-only does not apply to a VIP vamp such as herself, nor does garlic--and proceeds to merrily watch them all scurry around being heroic. While also sticking around for late night 'girl talk' with Mina, and soundly thwarting any play Dracula makes at trying to drink the young lady.

"Oh, Vlad, how we've fallen. From Impaler to home invader."

"This coming from Concini's concubine."

"Better a concubine than a so-called King of Vampires being played by a lawyer, a schoolteacher, a cowboy, a fop, and two devastatingly unscientific doctors. ...And a concubine. Thanks for stopping to chat, by the way. Hello, fellows. Busy day?"

Enter the lads, having arrived while the Count tried to peacock. Bring on the crosses and kukri.

Even if Clarimonde didn't come in until it was fashionably too late and Mina was bitten, I bet she'd throw herself in the fray just to witness the achingly romantic setup playing out between Jonathan and Mina. And, mind reader that she is, she knows all about Jonathan's blasphemous little secret concerning the worst case scenario...

"Oh, don't make such a face, dear! I won't tell. I truly am dreadfully weak for a good love story--living the French cliché, as it were. If it does come to that, and you must let your undead beloved bring you into the fold, you will have no trouble protecting her from the others' terribly virtuous act of euthanasia. I'll make sure of it."

#today is a day for rambling it seems #clarimonde #la morte amoureuse #dracula #dracula daily #what if #AU

[msookyspooky]

https://at.tumblr.com/msookyspooky/omg-i-just-had-a-thought-sev-with-a/7exh00klvxk8

This us such a cute concept wtf?? I hope you don't mind me sending in some hcs for this bc found family trope goes brrr

-I see her as a country girl, like caleb, less whiny tho lmao.

-parents were abusive and would leave her alone at a young age to fend for herself, which led to her stealing some times.

-which led to one night where, again, her parents left her alone, and she had to resort to stealing...which led her to pick pocket none other then Severen

-he was sympathetic, surprisingly, and to the extent all of the hooker clan were.

-he didn't say anything and just nodded and handed her the food and they went their separate ways.

-fast forward a month later and once again, her parents didn't give a shit and left her alone again.

-she ended up getting into some trouble and ran into some bad people who robbed her and left her for dead.

-Sereven smelled the blood and found her and against his better judgement, he turned her. Even if he had the gruff nature, he didn't want to see a person who reminds him of Mae, who was basically like his sister, hurt or killed.

-he then brought her to the hooker clan.

-caleb, DB, and Mae immediately welcomed her while Jesse and Homer were less then enthusiastic at Sev turning a random person and having one more mouth to feed.

-when she finally awakes, she's scared, rightfully and DB turns on her motherly demeanor and comforts her. She soon relaxes. Especially since this means she won't have to starve anymore.

-for her first feeding, she tells sev she wants to go after the guys who killed her.

-unsurprisingly, he agrees and also agrees to take responsibility for her since he is basically her vampire dad (he won't admit it tho. Joel miller shit frfr)

-she goes after the men before saving the main one for last, just so he'd know she was coming for him.

-Sev has literally never more prouder. She was definitely an improvement to when Caleb was first turned.

-a few months go by and she has got better at the vamp thing, her and homer even developed a brother-sister like relationship and Jesse let up on her once he realized she wasn't like caleb.

-she now looks up to Sev as a father and he looks at her like a daughter and finally stopped being a bitch about it and admitted it.

-has an array of nicknames for her; baby girl (again Joel miller shit fr), chip off the old block, mini me, peach (again the southern theme is there, even if the movie doesn't take place in Georgia)

- literally would kill and die for each other.

Thank u sm for the content omfg I'm so so soft for gruff men adopting kids and being great Dad's especially someone like Severen 🥰🥲❤ I mean, we can just tell by his interactions with Homer that he has a soft goofy side like pushing his bike (Even if it's in an annoying older brother pestering the youngest kind of way) and he definitely has a protective side as well which is my hc why he was so pissed at Caleb draining his 'little sister' Mae every night and Jesse had to hold him back when he found out

[paulisded]

The Ledge #581: 2013

Generally speaking, when I do shows devoted to years of the past I go way back. Like, at the bare minimum 25 years, and as far back as 50 years. Looking at my shows from 2013, though, I decided tonight I'd do something a little different. Let's go through some of my favorite records from only ten years ago.

While I am one that believes there's great rock and roll released each and every years (despite what many of my fellow oldsters proclaim), 2013 was even better than usual. There's all sorts of lofi indie power pop from the likes of Mind Spiders, Bad Sports, and Fidlar. There's the discovery of a wonderful up and coming songwriter named Lydia Loveless. There's the second release by the reformed Superchunk (my favorite record of the year).

And, of course, there's also the return of The Replacements. Yes, this happened due to a tragedy, as Slim Dunlap had suffered a stroke the previous year. But what a joy to hear Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson quickly recording a handful of their favorite oldies. Even better was the Songs For Slim singles series which saw all kinds of Slim's friends recording their favorite Dunalp tunes.

As for this week's edition of "52 Weeks of Teenage Kicks", I once again have a band I wasn't acquainted with before. The Vamps are a UK band that formed in 2012, and over the next few years their first two records went gold in their home country. 2013 saw an EP called Can We Dance that included the live cover of "Teenage Kicks" that opens tonight's show. And like always, I must again plead with y'all for more versions of "Teenage Kicks". If you are a musician, or have any contact with artists that could record their own take on the classic, please contact me!

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE SHOW!

1. The Vamps - Teenage Kicks (Live)

2. The Replacements - I'm Not Sayin'

3. The Replacements - Lost Highway

4. Chris Mars - Radio Hook Word Hit

5. The Minus 5 Feat. Curtiss A - Rockin Here Tonight

6. The Young Fresh Fellows - Loud Loud Loud Loud Guitars

7. Grant Hart - So Far from Heaven

8. Two Cow Garage - The Little Prince and Johnny Toxic

9. Hickoids - If Drinkin Don't Kill Me, Kill Me

10. CTMF Wild Billy Chyldish - The Second Generation Punks

11. Tommy Keene - Have You Seen My Baby? (Flamin' Groovies)

12. Tim Timebomb - Honor Is All We Know

13. Pat Todd & The Rankoutsiders - Small Town Rock Ain't Dead

14. Wooden Shjips - Back To Land

15. Obits - Taste The Diff

16. The Night Marchers - Loud Dumb and Mean

17. FIDLAR - Cheap Beer

18. Warm Soda - Jeanie Loves Pop

19. Lydia Loveless - Boy Crazy

20. Bleached - Looking for a Fight

21. Shannon And The Clams - Rip VanWinkle

22. The Hillbilly Moon Explosion - Motorhead Girl

23. The Men - Half Angel Half Light

24. Mind SpidersInside You

25. Bad Sports - Wahed Up

26. The Dirtbombs - Crazy For You

27. Thee Oh Sees - Toe Cutter - Thumb Buster

28. Ty Segall - You're The Doctor

29. Mikal Cronin - Am I Wrong

30. Kid Congo & the Pink Monkey Birds - Killer Diller

31. The Connection - Wrong Side of 25

32. Shocked Minds - Kalamazoo

33. The Tall Boys - The Man Who Walked On The Moon

34. Terry Malts - Two Faces

35. Telekinesis - Empathetic People

36. Superchunk -FOH

[lopez75blake]

Sephora 20% Off Perfume Sale

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#valentino replica #replica valentino bag #valentino bag replica #valentino bags replica #valentino garavani replica

[cloakofshadows]

felt like using this dollmaker for some of my ocs!!

ripley monroe (whc), nellie johnston (fc5), varya nikolaev (vtmb)

#ch: ripley monroe #ch: nellie johnston #ch: varya nikolaev #vamp girls and also one country girl!!

[bluetintcore]

A/N; hey i kinda love writing about twilight tbh (i will be getting to my inbox soon don’t worry!)

request?; yes / no

description; in which i give you my guesses on what the vamps fav singers/bands are :-) (or music taste)

warnings; swearing

fav singers/bands | twilight headcannon

carlisle cullen;

• he’d be into a lot of classical music tbh

• nothing with words just the music

• homeboy loves going to opera shows

• well he used too

esme cullen;

• same with carlisle, she’d be into a lot of classicals

• she also really likes jazz

• frank sinatra is her favorite person ever

• she also really likes christmas music

• even when it’s not christmas she’s jamming out

edward cullen;

• he mostly listens to piano covers and playings for inspiration and enjoyment

• he’s also big in 50s music, and occasionally a few songs from the 80s

• his favorite singer would probably be elton john, the only bearable for him

• but really other than that he’d just listen to the CD’s in his bedroom

bella swan;

• she’s really big on indie rock

• current joys is her absolute favorite

• also occasionally, a few one direction songs would find themselves in her playlist

• likes 80s music

jasper hale;

• likes country music lmao

• but not like newer country music

• like the cringey unbearable country music from like the 70s

• the kind of country music that gets played at family reunions

• this man has the worst possible taste in music ever

alice cullen;

• lana del rey is her favorite

• brooklyn baby and cinnamon girl are definitely her go to’s

• she’s also a big swiftie and loves taylor’s newer songs

• she’d definitely post jasper to ‘lover’ lucky ass mf

emmett cullen;

• he’s into a lot of newer rap

• he likes kanye, trippie red, and kid cudi

• his favs are ‘mr rager’ and ‘pursuit of happiness’

• definitely prefers kid cudi out of all of them

rosalie hale;

• worships britney spears

• toxic and if you seek amy>>

• would also be a big taylor swift fan

• and could occasionally listen to ariana grande

victoria sutherland;

• she’s super big on paramore, deftones, and avril lavigne

• loves ‘misery business’ and ‘be quiet and drive’

• she also could fit in the neighborhood

• she went through a phase where all she listened to was ‘daddy issues’ lmao

• she also loves ‘sk8er boy’

jane volturi;

• pierce the veil and mother mother>>

• she also likes taylor swift but would never tell a single soul

• that’d probably be it

• she’d never really have the time to listen to music

#twilight #twilight headcannon #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #esme cullen x reader #edward cullen x reader #bella swan x reader #jasper hale x reader #alice cullen x reader #emmett cullen x reader #rosalie hale x reader #victoria sutherland x reader #jane volturi x reader #headcannons

[smallandangry24]

So…new Batman is a millennial right? Like I knew this going in but YALL I did NOT understand the full implications of this.

Bruce was an American youth in the early 2000-2010s. Also white which contributes a little to some of the following…

This means that there is no possible way no matter how many hurdles he jumped or how many rocks he lived under that Bruce Wayne does not know Hannah Montana.

Party in the USA, All Star, BILL NYE. He’s got the classics on Christian summer camp/white people get turnt playlists. I’m talkin Brown Eyed Girl, Sweet Caroline, Build Me Up Buttercup, COUNTRY ROADS BY JOHN DENVER, Wagon Wheel.

Older revamped (or maybe permanently vamped) hits: Michael Jackson, Queen, Stacy’s Mom, Don’t Stop Believing, Eye of the Tiger, Africa, YMCA

Mans also has to know Toxic, Unwritten, Bring Me to Life (he won’t admit it but that’s more voluntary), and at least one song from High School Musical. I made extreme efforts to miss those movies and even I have at least some lyrics permanently seared into my bones.

His greasy wet goth lookin emo ass can’t escape the fact that he’s just an above-averagely traumatized American Millennial and I LOVE IT.

#Batman #lord help him #the batman #battinson #millenial culture #white people music #american public school #Bruce Wayne #hannah montana #taylor swift #michael jackson #dc #dc headers #batman headcanon #yes I did interview a millennial to fact check this

[pjisskullourful]

 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 / 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 

happy halloween🎃 make me your halloQween 🦇 lucky number13, the final feed for the halloween filth-fest

⚰️ Ethan X reader

NSFW🔥 content warning;MURDER & HOMOPHOBIC SLURS - filthy depraved bloodstained supernatural fucking

° Ethan Torchio & female reader insert

° Ethan is forced to turn his firstlove into a vampire, teaching her what it takes to live as a bloodsucking demon

wordcount:      7,615

🎧HOT VAMP SHIT playlist to add to your sexy filthy reading experience

° anonrequest right after mammamia came out to murder us all:Okay but can I ask for a smutastic blurb or fic where Ethan gives THAT look as in MammaMia where he drinks and walks away, that look is SO FUCKIN HOT like imagine the shit going on in his head when he spots his prey in the crowd [ask & it shall be given-- requests are open!]

Being turned into a vampire was agony. You were realising (potentially, a bit too late) that this was why Ethan had spent so long avoiding giving you the gift of immortality. He had been an undead blood-sucker for more than a decade and in that time, he had built up a lot of reasons for why this wasn’t a life for you.

But all of those reasons had become redundant when your life was threatened - a vengeful witch leaving you with a mortal wound. Your first love had been presented with the choice of watching you die, or turning you into a creature of the night.

You had held his familiar body close as he broke your skin with his fangs for the first time. Death was a necessary step in this process, before his blood could revive you into this new afterlife. You had laid in his arms, feeling him drawing all of the hot blood out of you - with an unwavering precision, despite the tears that wet his cheeks. The fear was there, but mostly you had trusted him - with all of the strength that you still had, you had fought back against the notion that this was the end.

Dying had been painful, but this process was far worse. It was longer, so many days spent coming in-and-out of consciousness as your body was riddled with the most intense growing pains. It was an ache that never eased, a hurt that ran deeper than anything else you had ever known.

On the second day - Ethan had put you in a coffin, promising this would help the transition. And it did, it had quickly blocked everything else out, allowing you to sleep deeper and for longer.

It was always a dreamless slumber as you disconnected from everything, completely oblivious to what was going on all around you. You had been moved across borders, passing through European countries that you had never seen before. He, and his three closest companions, had been rushing you back to Rome. They drove without taking any breaks, returning to the vampire who had turned all four of them - their only master.

Not only would Helena know if you needed any extra help. But she needed to know of the witch’s attack - it had been a message for her, after all. An ancient grudge carried on between the two women.

And you were just a casualty, you had merely gotten in the way.

But Ethan refused for your life to end in this way, refused for your death to mean nothing, refused any removal of your significance.

He had always been like that - when you felt like the most invisible girl in the whole school, he had been the one who saw you. He had seen something in you, something that took you years to find for yourself. He wasn’t just the first boy you had ever loved, he was also the first person who had made you feel loved.

When he had opened the silk-lined coffin on that, the seventh night since feeding you his bewitched blood, he looked like the saviour you had always needed him to be.

But it was more than that. You looked at him, in the candlelight, and he was even more beautiful than any of your memories had allowed you to recall.

Your pain was gone, maybe you had come out the other side of this body trauma. You actually smiled, a feat that you had anticipated being beyond your capabilities for a while longer.

The relief had immediately taken over his face and he was soon smiling as well. He reached in, caressing your cheek. “How are you, amore? I wasn’t expecting to find you awake.”

You felt a different ache coming into your body now, your heart pounded with longing. “Surprise. I feel like I get why zombies communicate strictly by groaning.”

“But you’re not a zombie, you’re a vampire- much sexier.” He said, winking.

“You’re tellin’ me…”

“Hm?”

You cleared your throat, trying to concentrate on something more than his handsome face. “Are we safe?”

“Yes darling, we made it to Helena’s and she runs this place like a fortress.”

“The others?” 

“Yes, yes, we’re all in one piece and the others are helping Helena figure out how to put that rotted bitch back in her place.” He said, running his hand over your forehead. “It’s all gonna be fine and it’s all not for you to worry about, please. We need to concentrate on getting you back to healthy- well, your new version of healthy, that is.”

“What’s the next step?”

His eyes scanned all over your face, reading every feature. “Are you sure you wanna talk about that now? It’s three in the morning, we can just go to sleep. I’ll even let you be little spoon.”

You put a hand to the edge of the coffin, still unsure if you had enough strength to get out yet. But you were sure that you couldn’t stand to go back to sleep - currently, all that you could see were things worth staying awake for. “Do you know that expression- I’ll sleep when I’m dead? Well, I’ve just done enough sleeping to cover that death. I’m not saying that I’m gonna go out and bench press a semi truck or anything. But could we maybe discuss an exception to my bedtime?”

He smiled and you didn’t think you had ever wanted to kiss anyone more. “Sure thing, baby.” He caressed your cheek again, his hand seeming to linger longer this time. “But you already know what the next step is- if you want any hope of having enough strength to survive in this new realm, you have to drink from your maker again.”

You nodded, holding onto the wooden box a bit tighter. “Right, to seal the deal, to create the eternal bond that I need to thrive and have a hardier body to get me through being a vamp. I did already know- but I just wanted to bring it into the conversation.”

“Hm, I wonder why that is.” He said, pausing to lick his lips. “Could it be because you’re feeling those hunger pains- and not just here…” He pointed at your stomach, then to your heart. “But also here and in here?” He pointed to your forehead.

You nodded, keeping to yourself that he had missed potentially the most important spot. Your cunt.

“Or is it because you’re feeling those new fangs and you wanna know what they can do? You wanna know what it feels like to bite into someone’s neck, you wanna know what it’s really like to be a vamp.”

“I, yes- wait, huh? Whose neck am I biting into, yours?”

“Yeah.” He said and flicked his long hair out of the way, your eyes greedily taking in the sight of the side of his neck. You had kissed on that pulse point countless times, the smooth skin on his neck had always enticed you. But to puncture through the flesh - were you capable of that?

“Well we can’t forge our eternal bond just by doing our secret handshake.” He said. “Trust me, I asked. Besides, I thought you might be interested in a little payback, hm? You munch on my neck, just like I munched on yours.”

Your mind was racing and you had begun to feel wholly uncomfortable in the casket. It was a claustrophobia that you hadn’t been plagued with before. But now your legs were twitching.

“If you’re game, that is…”

You sat up, feeling only a minor head rush. He was watching you with that look of concern - the look you were somewhat accustomed to, after seeing it so often as he came in-and-out of your life. It wasn’t how he had looked at you when you were just two clueless teenagers.

It was a look that had come into his repertoire since the turning, since he had started existing in a world different to yours. It was a look that said you couldn’t even imagine the terror he was regularly witnessing. He knew how evil the world could truly be and he had to protect you, had to provide you with the safety to carry on living your life caring about things like managing a restaurant.

It was the look that told you of how he had come to view you - as fragile as a porcelain doll. And that had served its purpose. It had even been flattering to feel like something worth protecting.

But you wanted to prove to him that this simply wasn’t the case anymore. You could be his equal, you could handle him.

You put your hand up to his cheek and leant in, your nose brushing against his before your lips met. You slid your hand into his soft hair as you heard him draw in a sharp inhale. His arms encircled your waist and you felt your body warmed by his. Perfectly in time with one another - you tilted to the left and he did too, the kiss deepening. It was waking you up and sending tingles through your body.

You couldn’t contain a moan when your bottom lip slid into his mouth, being massaged by his lips. You were sinking into this rhythm, feeling your heartbeat increasing. Your hand went to the front of his shirt, curling your hand into a determined fist. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, running it along the roof of his mouth before pulling back.

You were out of breath. “Let’s get even, okay? Teach me how to bite, teach me how to drink- just like you taught me everything else. Come in this coffin with me. I wanna be awake, I wanna be with you and bonded to you. I’ve always seen you as my forever.”

“You're the only forever that I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled and threw your arms around him, bringing his body to yours. You kissed him as you returned your body to the secure embrace of the casket.

There were some bashful giggles as he climbed into the narrow space, finding the least awkward way to lie with you. This wasn’t the smallest space you had ever squeezed into with him - there had been that time when the only privacy could be found in an empty bathtub, there had also been a time in a photobooth and more than once, the backseat of a car had sufficed. You didn’t think the coffin could claim the title of being the strangest spot he’d fucked you in. That title still belonged to a backyard trampoline, closely followed by the stairwell in the building of the first apartment you had shared.

Those had been the days of unbelievable lust, both of you becoming addicted to the highs you could gain from one another. You had been certain that no one would be able to captivate you to this same degree.

And that had been proven correct. The men that shared your bed in Ethan’s absence would maybe be able to show you a new move. But none of them had ever been able to unlock that primal need in you.

Ethan was the one to unleash you, the time in between collisions only adding to the fevered anticipation. Each time was filled with the excitement that you’d experienced at losing your virginity to one another. Swarms of butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the prospect of rediscovery, elevated to an unreal sphere now that you were changed.

His hands made quick work of pushing the dress up off of your body. You were able to pull the tank top off of him, but gave up after only undoing the fly of his jeans.

His lips were returned to yours and you could feel the hunger in his movements. It was something you didn’t shy away from, it was a relief to not have to hold back.

You had been drifting between two worlds for seven days, lost in the darkness. Your hands gripped his back as you yearned for him to make you feel real again. He was the only one that could bring you back to life.

He had worked your legs apart and you moaned out his name, feeling his erection pressing against your body, promising so much more. You eased one of your legs around his waist, providing him with greater access to your pussy.

You could hear his ragged breathing at your ear as his wet tip drew closer to pushing into you. Your arms ached from how tightly you were holding him as you lifted your ass from the cushioned bottom of the coffin. You took it upon yourself to take him into you, your cunt stretching as you opened up to his entire length.

He kissed you in the same moment that your hips were brought together. You moaned into his mouth as you let this sensation drown you - this sensation of the deepest connection, your bodies bonded in a way that you could enjoy for the rest of eternity.

“You can’t hurt me.” He muttered, at first only rousing confusion in you. “You can’t kill me, not in this way, at least…” You heard the rattle as the string of pearls was loosened from around his neck, discarded. “You can’t drink too much, I’m yours for as much as you desire.”

You licked your lips as he picked up one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around your index and middle fingers. He placed your fingers at his throat, just beneath his strong jaw. You felt the throbbing of his pulse against your fingertips and you didn’t require any further explanation.

“I’m yours amore.” He said as you replaced your fingers with your lips.

You sucked some of his flesh into your mouth, feeling his lust throbbing inside of you. You worked over  the skin between your lips, as you had when applying hickeys in the past. You grazed your teeth over this area, letting him feel the extended canines without sinking them in yet. You enjoyed the process of warming the soft skin, especially when you felt him writhing against you.

You opened your mouth, running your tongue along your area of focus before letting your fangs rest against him. The rhythmic beating against your lips told you that you were still in the right spot.

You tensed your jaw and pushed through the initial resistance, until you had punctured his skin. Once the surface was broken, you were able to sink in - like softened, room temperature gelato. The penetration continued and you were able to find a comfortable way to hold your mouth.

Your name fell from his lips as he filled more of your pussy. His body pressed into you and you felt his hot blood sliding over your tastebuds.

It tasted incredible, much better this time. You created a seal of suction around his new wound, drawing out more of his blood until it was filling your mouth - the thick liquid was the only thing you could taste.

The overwhelming sweetness inspired a new energy into you and you rocked your hips up into him, matching each of his thrusts. Above you, he failed to catch his breath, moaning and quivering as he determinedly kept at this promising rhythm. You could feel the friction building, all of these sensations combining into an intoxicating harmony.

He swore as he worked you into a faster pace and you felt yourself clenching harder around him, the desperation was ready to take over. He stroked so deep within you, his dick rubbing at your g-spot.

“Good girl.” He whispered and the way his fingers lightly brushed against the back of your neck fired off a series of sparks throughout your body. “Drink all of it, yes- all of me.”

You gulped audibly and your throat was coated with his blood. Your stomach growled - yet to be satisfied after so long without eating in any shape or form.

A few gulps later, your head fell back, your jaw becoming slack as you began to dissolve into a series of breathy moans. You laid your head down and put your attention into keeping up with his quickening tempo.

All around your mouth was sticky, but he kissed you again, unaffected - potentially enjoying how his blood tasted coming off of your lips.

“I’m gonna love you forever.” He said.

You smiled weakly, before a loud sob ripped free from your throat as you were surprised by a powerful twitch that rocked so many of your muscles. “Good, ‘cause I’m guh- gonna love you fu- forever.”

He put his forehead against yours, adding one word before capturing your lips with his. “Forever.”

This wasn’t a new sentiment shared between the two of you. But it did carry a new intensity - one that made your heart skip over a few beats.

Now it was a guarantee, all of those people who had warned you to not get too attached because it was just puppy love (which never lasted), you were going to prove them wrong.

At the age of twenty-nine, you were too old to be swept up by something so fleeting and shallow.

The pleasure flooded through you, overtaking you and sending you into even greater tremors. Your whole body was consumed by his love, moving in perfect time to his guidance.

“Unn… unf- aah.” You whined, your back arching as you clung to him through all of the shuddering bucks. “Oh, guh- God, Ethan…”

“You gonna come for me baby, hm?” His voice shook and you could feel the spreading of his hot cum inside of you.

His hands left your body, relocating to grip the lip of the casket. This provided him with greater mobility and he was soon thrusting into you with even more power. You were lost to the friction these longer pumps were creating, his shaft bumping against your clit with each stroke.

“Oh baby, yes, yes.” He groaned as he erratically spasmed into you.

One last thrust delivered him into his orgasm and you felt more of his wetness spilling upon you. Your pussy clenched, emptied too early. You continued to feel the excited tingles but they were levelling out, stopping short of getting you to that required release.

You worked your way to your orgasm, jerkily running your pussy along his length, stimulating your clit as best you could. You grasped his neck, applying some exhausted kisses to his bleeding neck.

“Please, Ethan…” You pleaded.

He shivered into repositioning, his arms resting on the cushioned silk to either side of your head. He pushed down into you, hips grinding as he allowed you to feel more of his cock. “You wanna come for me, baby? Hm, are you gonna come all over my cock?”

“Yes, baby, please.” You panted, kissing his throat and coating your lips with his blood again. “Please.”

He recovered enough energy to snap his hips into yours, making you feel a tightening in your gut. You were dripping as your body lit up with titillating sparks. You tilted your hips, your clitoris throbbing against him, aching for release.

You reached your peak with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the frantic spasming until you were collapsing onto the bottom of the coffin. His body was heavy on yours as the sound of shallow, quick breaths filled the room. You put your arms around him, placing some kisses onto his hot skin and enjoying the way your aftershocks were playing out.

You were smiling when you felt his fingers stroking through your hair. You pecked him on the lips - all of your earlier pain and the fear of dying were forgotten, now all that you could feel was his love, the only thing that you had to know from now until the end of time.

“Forever.” You said, caressing his cheek.

You could see that he was smiling too. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You quickly responded, kissing him again. “Do you think I’ll be a good vampire?”

“Stick with me, kid. I’ll make you the best.”

--- --- --- 

The two of you had stayed behind in Rome - Ethan wanted to lie low with you, while you were still adjusting to these monumental changes in your body.

Helena took the other three members of Måneskin back to England - she had other underlings she could call upon if it seemed she would need help in going after the murderous witch.

This was your first time leaving the manor at night, after almost two full weeks of recuperating. 

Ethan had taken you out during the day a handful of times, letting you feel the sunshine on your sensitive, but ultimately burn-proof skin. You had visited places that held significant memories, him helping you recall moments that made holding onto your humanity seem worth the effort. You had returned to locations of dates, swooning at all the little details that could be triggered from just looking at a building.

Everything was blissfully happy as you explored around in the innocent light of daytime. The two of you had discussed getting married many times in the past, and you couldn’t help theorising on how similar to a honeymoon this time was.

But your desire for fun didn’t end with the sun going down. He wanted you to conserve your energy, instead of going out and getting carried away, losing yourself in all of the possibilities that nighttime offered.

Your nights were spent cuddling in the casket (there were plenty of suitable beds that you could make good use of, but both of you were enjoying the next level of intimacy that only the coffin could offer). He would bring you a plasma pack, feeding you chilled blood from Helena’s private storage. Afterwards, you would gain a wonderful buzz and (just like when you had red wine) your sex drive would kick in, giving you only one idea of how to utilise this rush of energy. Limited seduction was required to get him to fuck you and he was fucking you harder than he ever had before. You would scream and beg - absolutely thrilled that he had stopped holding back, he had stopped worrying about breaking you.

You were relieved to go back to the behaviour of your younger selves - back to the time before he had started handling you like you were a porcelain doll.

But there was one activity from your past that you felt confident you could recapture the fun of - and you had declared to him that you wanted to go dancing.

You were the only person that he danced with, ever. Because you always brought the fun out in him - making him laugh too much to possibly have anytime for cringing. You had gone dancing almost every weekend, before the underworld had dragged him away from you. The two of you had some speciality moves - including: Macklemore’s wide arms, or decorating a Christmas tree. If he wasn’t feeling a particular song, those minutes could easily be filled with some making-out. Sometimes you would forget to stop once the song was over.

On this night, he had been hesitant to agree to take you out for a night of drinking and dancing, sticking to this decision with only some minor wavering when you had shown him the red dress that you planned to wear. He had raised the very valid point that nightclubs were dens of complete overstimulation, even at the best of times. Now that vampirism had only heightened your senses, it seemed you were asking to fall victim to an overload by going into any club.

But you had managed to talk him into it - promising to carry earplugs and deciding on which of your secret hand signals to use to communicate that you needed to leave.

Now you were making your way through the crowd, trying to reclaim your spot next to him after a quick visit to the ladies room. Your view of him was blocked for a moment as two men passed between you, their gruff voices carrying clearly over the music for you.

“- faggot music.” “I guess we missed the memo about it being faggot night.” “Why can’t they just find their own bars and quit sissifying ours?”

Your mood took an instant nosedive and your stomach twisted into an abnormal, uncomfortable knot. Your hands curled into fists at your sides and, as you watched them leave for the outdoor smokers section, all that you could think about was hurting them. The thought was so powerful, so loud and large that your hands had begun to shake.

But then they were gone and you told yourself to let it go. When you looked at Ethan, straight away you knew that he had heard and was feeling frustrations similar to what currently plagued you. His entire demeanour had changed, the look on his face darker, devoid of any joy. His jaw was clenched, his chin lowered. His eyes locked onto you and you could tell that a decision had been made.

Your heart was pounding and you increased your pacing, following the magnetic pull to get to him as quickly as possible. The adrenaline was racing through you and you couldn’t help the feelings of arousal that this stirred up, a whirlpool of intense emotions. And you didn’t know how to control any of them.

The look on his face was one of restrained anger. He put the beer bottle to his lips, tilting his head back for a quick sip. His cheeks hollowed for a moment as he held the liquid in his mouth for a beat longer than what was usual.

When he looked at you again, you could see the dark determination in his eyes. You stepped up to stand in front of him, placing a hand to his chest as you tried to read his expression.

He passed the bottle to you and put his hand to the back of your neck, bringing you to where he could whisper into your ear. Your hair was pulled up and he took advantage of this, caressing the bare skin at the nape of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut and you let your hand wander down the thin rose gold chains that fell from his leather choker.

“How do you feel about taking your first life tonight?”

You paused, rendered speechless for a moment.

“Do you mean- what, those guys that just- I mean, I heard them use the slur, but I…”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, amore. Why don’t we start with one?”

He was licking his lips when he leant back, looking at you, watching for your reaction. You found yourself nodding, you had been wondering when it would be time for your first kill - overly eager to share this essential vamp experience with him.

“Good girl. Just follow my lead, okay?”

He took your hand in his and began to walk over for the door out of the main room. You emerged into the crowded and poorly-lit smokers area. Your eyes scanned the patio for the two men, while Ethan immediately approached one of the venue’s security.

You listened as he altered the story. The bouncer, who had greeted Ethan by his name (because he was a friend or a fan, you had no idea), was an empathetic listener, nodding along. Your boyfriend reframed the incident - he had been in the bathroom, approached by one of the men, who had used the slur repeatedly during a volatile exchange, which had left Ethan rattled.

“And you said he came out here?”

He pointed across the way, to where the man in the camo-print shirt was relaxing and enjoying a cigarette. “That’s him, in the dark green, with the eyebrow piercing.”

The bouncer nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Sorry again, man, you shouldn’t have to deal with shitbags using language like that.”

“It’s quite alright, I’ve been called a whole lot of garbage. But I just wouldn’t wanna see him say that to someone else, someone that is potentially more likely to be triggered by words like that. Then they snap, ruin their night and maybe their criminal record. Scum like him, they’re just not worth it.”

“You are so right. I’m gonna get that loser out of here right now.” The bouncer said. “You guys enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Thanks man.” Ethan said before turning to you, wearing a smirk. 

You considered him as you took a swig of beer. “You know what my mum used to say about you? She used to say that you were the kind of boyfriend I wouldn’t have to worry about, ‘cause you’re such an honest guy.”

“Can I tell you something- share a bit of honesty with you?” He asked, taking the bottle back from you.

“Sure.”

He pressed his cheek to yours, blocking out your awareness of everything else as he whispered into your ear. “I honestly cannot wait to fuck you into oblivion, in a pool of his blood.”

You trembled all over - the anticipation was a palpable presence between the two of you. “Yes please.”

He smiled before downing the last of the beer. “Let’s go kill a homophobe.”

“Lead the way.”

You made a quick exit from the venue after that, emerging onto the mostly-empty street. He took you towards a silent, dark alleyway that stood between the club and the bus stop. You felt a swarm of anxiety - mentally tripping up on all of the variables, an ever-growing list of things that could go wrong. But he remained the picture of composure, stepping confidently into the dark alley. You reassured yourself with the knowledge that his experience was to be trusted - potentially, he had even hunted here before.

You were the lookout, watching the limited activity on the street with an unlit cigarette pinched between two fingers. “Here he comes.”

You glanced back at Ethan, who had just flicked open his switchblade, taking a few steps back. “I’ve got you covered. You can do this, he’s just one guy. Play up the ditzy drunk act.”

You started to huff loudly, looking around at the ground until the prey was close enough for you to address. “Mi scusi, I’m sorry, but could you help me for, like, five seconds?” You swayed on your feet, letting one of your knees weaken. He had paused, taking a step toward you. “I dropped my fuckin’ lighter and I can’t see it anywhere.” You walked into the alleyway, with him following after you, barely hesitating. “I know that I had it when I came over here, it was definitely in my hand as I stood over here.”

“In the alleyway?” He asked, a good-natured smile on his face. “Kinda a weird spot for a smoke, don’t you think?”

You laughed and it sounded terribly stilted to you, but he might not know any better. “I guess, but people can be so judgy, sometimes it’s nice to just split away from all of that.”

“Preachin’ to the choir. I’ve got a lighter right here, by the way.” He flicked the mechanism, a small flame bringing illumination to some of his features.

“Oh my God, thank you so much.”

Instead of handing the lighter to you, he insisted on lighting the cigarette for you, moving into your personal space. It was almost too close for comfort, but then you saw movement over his shoulder. Ethan was closing in behind the prey.

“So what’s your name?” He asked.

Ethan moved forward, throwing his arm around the prey to place the knife against his throat. “What’s yours? Or should I just pick a slur and call you that?”

“What the fuck is this, are you robbing me?”

You exhaled a cloud of smoke into his face as Ethan trapped the prey’s neck, his forearm lodging under the man’s chin. “Something like that.”

The prey’s face was already turning red with Ethan using his other hand to lock his grip. He squeezed his arm, applying pressure to either side of the prey’s neck until he was gasping for air. You nervously looked around, ready to signal if you saw anyone.

“Oh no, he’s gone to sleep.” Ethan said, a sarcastic attempt at sounding concerned. “Babe, look at this- our poor friend. I knew he’d had more than a few, but I didn’t realise he was this drunk. Did you?” He was still holding the choke hold, even though the prey was limp, clearly incapacitated.

“Idiota, when is he gonna learn that he can’t handle his liquor?” You asked before lowering your voice. “What now?”

“You’re gonna get my phone from my back pocket and there’s an app on there that I want you to open…”

You scoffed. “What is it, like, vamp Uber or something?”

“Basically, yeah. It’s a car service, for vamps, run by vamps. It’s called Hell on Wheels and they’ll be able to get us back to the house, no questions, no weird looks.” He said as you navigated your way through the unfamiliar application. “They’ll even have a nice trunk for our friend here.”

You laughed, the pitch higher than usual as your nerves remained tightly wound. “All I wanted was to go dancing…”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“With you?” You took another drag of the cigarette before placing it between his lips. “Never. When have you ever known me to turn down a meal and a chance to be fucked into oblivion?”

--- --- --- 

The prey was pushed off of the bed, landing on the floor with a wet slap - what was left of his blood now spreading across the wood floorboards, just as it had been smeared all over your body.

Your first feed - you hadn’t needed Ethan’s knife to help you get to the blood, your new fangs were more than ready to tear through whatever flesh you could get your hands on. Nor had you needed any instructions from him, you had let your vampiric instincts and impulses guide you to the best spots to drink from.

It was the best meal you had ever experienced, immediately superior to anything you had eaten in your mortal life. The warmth from the blood had touched every bit of your body, your stomach filled over-and-over until you didn’t know yourself any longer.

You felt like a killer - more glamorous than any movie villain. You had thought there would be a mental roadblock, your fear and morals keeping you from fully enjoying this process, maybe it would change how the blood tasted.

But nothing had been able to hold you back. You had felt a merciless power trip come over you and you found that taking a life was exhilarating. You weren’t scared of what you had become, not when you were experiencing the greatest nourishment.

“Aw, a bit of a messy eater, hm?” Ethan said, pulling you into his embrace.

You looked down at yourself to where so much of the prey’s blood was stuck to your skin - you looked as filthy as if you had just emerged from bathing in blood for hours. You had been wise enough to remove your dress and bra. But you had gotten distracted before you could take off your panties and you knew that they would have to be thrown out. Just as the bedsheets would.

He was covered as well, your red-stained bodies one and the same. He was still wearing a pair of ruined underwear - you thought the fabric had been blue at the beginning of the night.

The only other thing on his body was the choker, with its collection of fine chains attached to the o-ring. The chains had been moving freely across his bare chest this whole time, resulting in a peculiar pattern of red streaks and smears. It was frantic and completely random, as if Jackson Pollock had come at him with a paintbrush.

Your eyes followed the chains down his body. The animal desires rose up within you as you looked over his perfectly carved body. You thought this was your favourite of all his chokers and it looked even better now that the blood clogged some of the links.

You gathered the chains in your hand, beginning to wrap it around your fist. “Murdering looks really good on you.”

He smiled, leaning in closer to you, dirtied lips within kissing range. “It looks good on you too, practically to die for.”

It was a cheesy line, but he had delivered it with such earnestness that the urge to laugh failed to land. There was so much lust coursing through your veins that you didn’t think there was anything he could say that would take you out of your current state of being putty in his hands.

You gave the necklace a light tug, inspired to use it as you would a leash. “I know that I’m already so dirty…” He rested his head against yours, following your pulls to get him closer still. “But do you think you could get me even dirtier before we try to get cleaned off?”

His lips hovered over yours, promising a kiss without actually providing. “I’m gonna make you so fucking dirty that you could shower for days and still not be clean.”

Your body shivered and you clenched your fist around the chain. “Yes.”

He grabbed your face with both hands, the force of his kiss knocking you onto the bed. Wrapped up in his arms, you felt safe, safe enough to let all of your passions bubble to the surface.

You grasped his body close to yours, a hand going to his back where you immediately let your nails press against the skin. You spread your legs apart, giving him plenty of room as he laid on top of you.

Your heart was beating to a new, more persistent rhythm and you wondered if this would happen after every live feeding.

“Oh God, I love being a monster with you.” You said, breathless when his mouth left yours to explore lower.

“You’re really good at it too.” He said, hands rubbing over your skin as his tongue began to swipe at the congealed blood. “It kinda makes me annoyed at myself for how long I put this off- holding you at arm's length when we could’ve been together like this all along.” You let out a yelp of surprise when he pinched your nipple firmly. 

“We could’ve been fucking like this all along.” He said, in between loving licks at your dirty skin. “I deprived myself too long, like an idiot- thinking that I had to find someone from this lifestyle, someone who would know what it was like.

“Stupido. That was about as productive as a dog chasing its own tail.” He said, a crinkle forming in the bridge of your nose as you smiled at him. The time that he spent focused on cleaning you, it dwindled. He was mostly just looking at you as he spoke - looking into your eyes and soon you were feeling every word. “You’ve been right here all along, the only person that’s ever fully known me, every single part of me and you always accepted me, always. I wasted both of our time.”

“Stop that, we have quite literally the rest of eternity to make up for any lost time.” You said, stroking his cheek.

“You never lost me, my heart has always been lying right here…” He laid his hand on your chest, over where your heart was racing. “Right next to yours.”

“And you’ll never lose me.”

He moved back up, his lips meeting yours again. He kissed you with such purpose that you forgot about all of the times when he had been absent from your life. The nights when you had cried yourself to sleep, so distraught over missing this essential part of yourself - none of that could haunt you any longer. You were entirely present in this moment - savouring the taste of blood, brought to life more with each move of his lips.

He grabbed your leg, bringing it up for your knee to rest at his hip, spreading you. You could feel his hard cock, even through the two layers of underwear, it could still entice you and bring a weakness to your knees. You rubbed your hips against him, making your interests clear.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten about that little comment about fucking me into oblivion…” You said as he started to work your soaked panties down. “‘Cause I haven’t forgotten.” You giggled, the chains from his necklace tickling across your already-sensitive skin. “In fact, it’s literally all that I’ve been able to think about.”

“Hey, when have you ever known me to not keep my word?” He asked, his underwear tossed aside.

“Oh, right, you’re just an honest guy.” You said sarcastically. “Earnest Ethan.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, amore. Cheeky girls don’t get to come.”

You gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, holding your thigh tight to his body again. “Maybe you could fuck around and find out, hm?”

“I’ll be good.” You said, sliding your hands up his back. “I’ll be a good girl for you.”

“Good, ‘cause I want you to come. I wanna make you come.” He said, sparks rising from the contact points your bodies were sharing. “I wanna feel your cum sliding all down my cock, soaking me right down to my balls. I wanna hear every wet sound of me thrusting into you and I wanna listen to it getting wetter-and-wetter as I fuck you- fuck you into oblivion.”

“Yes.” You sighed before a loud moan was brought from you when his tip began to push into you. “Yes, oh yes, yes.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked, gradually burying more of himself into you. “Hm, is that what you want?”

“God, yes.”

You writhed beneath him, instantly trying to encourage him into a quick pace. The kisses that he was applying to your mouth just weren’t enough.

His mouth left yours and he returned to the extensive task of cleaning your neck with just his tongue. The taste of blood provided him with new energy and he was soon picking up speed. He moaned against your skin as your pussy excitedly spasmed around him.

“It tastes even better served on your fuckin’ delicious skin.” He groaned, his head bowing lower as he began at the river of red that had streaked down your chest.

His hips snapped into yours, driving all of the air from your lungs as you became stunned by his power. But you continued working with his brutal pace, your pussy alive with tingles that were only getting stronger.

His tongue and your pussy - they were locked in a competition of which could be loudest, which could produce the wettest sounds. His saliva was spread across your skin before being taken back into his mouth with a determined slurp. Your dripping cunt articulated every confident stroke from his cock. You heard each squelch at every pucker.

These noises combined to create the filthiest soundtrack to accompany this fucking, that was driving you to the most spectacular climax.

“God, Ethan, un…”

An involuntary buck from your hips brought his dick deeper into your swollen cunt, driving him to where you were waiting for him to set you free. He throbbed inside of you and you felt your breath getting stuck in the chamber of your throat. All control was being surrendered and you moved erratically towards your orgasm.

He groaned heavily, his cum coating inside of you, making it easier to fuck you harder. He dove further into this momentum and braced himself with both hands going to the head of the bed. He let your desperation win out, relentlessly riding you into new realms of pleasure.

Your passion was beginning to bubble over (you were nearing the point of no return) and you cried out. “Look at me. Ah, love, please, look at me.”

He threw his hair back as his face turned to yours. His eyes stared into yours and you whimpered through the tremor that took over you in response to this. You hooked a finger beneath his choker, bringing a strain to the leather.

“Yes baby, look at me.” You rasped - equally daunted and in love with the intensity that this extra level of connection brought. “Look at me Ethan, look at wuh- what you’ve made me into, yes, God, yes.”

You saw sparks in his eyes and it was painfully obvious that his orgasm was dawning. His mouth dropped open and more of his release spurted into your pussy.

But it was you that the shock came for first - carrying you screaming into your orgasm. Your entire body was in motion, savouring every sensation.

Mere seconds later he was following you into the dazzling conclusion, both of you sharing wordless chants of exaltation. His hot cum spilled into you, harder than before, marking the deepest parts of you as his.

And that was how it should be. He had so much of you already, he had all of your firsts and now another was added. Your first post-kill fuck, it belonged to him and you wouldn’t want anyone else to share it with you.

He collapsed off of you, your body still pumping you full of adrenaline. You curled into his side, your fingers playing with the chains splayed across his heaving chest.

“Does Helena have a vamp-exclusive housekeeping service?”

--- ** ---

If you like my writing, feel free to tip me. I am open to both commissions & requests, commissions get priority & the most input

#LUCKY NO.13 #pj halloween filth-fest #ethan filthfest #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin smut #maneskin fic #manesmut #vampire maneskin #ethan torchio fic #ethan x reader #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio x you #maneskin x you #vampire ethan torchio #tw: blood #tw: murder

[submissivekillers]

Yo yo yoooi! Can I please have a lost boys x vamp reader who’s like the very first vampire to be born and she comes and meets the boys cause she’s traveling across the world to visit all her “children” - so basically ancient ass vamp reader who looks 20 something meets the lost boys cause she’s meeting the rest of her kind

like what i do? support me on kofi

ngl i basically pictured reader as a pre-milfication lady d while writing this jhgfdsa. brainrot!! also mild max slander

length: 2.2k

If there is one rule you’ve managed to learn over the long years of your existence, it is this: humans will take any opportunity to make fools of themselves. 

Santa Carla is no exception.

Even in the early morning before the hordes of hormone-addled humans descended on the beach, the air had been heavy with smoke and blood and sex, so strong it almost overpowered the scent of the sea even when you'd peeled off your sandals to wade in. In its own way, it's exhilarating; the anticipation had your old blood stirring, your excitement mounting as the sun dipped low and the crowds swelled. From the window of your little motel room, you'd had a wonderful view of the flood of humans that spilled onto the boardwalk, the vast majority of them young and already inebriated to some degree. Ripe for the picking.  

It's not humans that you're hunting for tonight, though. At least, not yet.  

At a leisurely pace, you wander the boardwalk, taking your time to enjoy the local color. You indulge in a vivid blue cloud of cotton candy, try a couple rides, win yourself a stuffed whale after breaking a few bottles and promptly gift it to the first kid you see. A belligerent twenty-something who stinks of beer tugs at the hem of your white dress as it swishes around your thighs and you break his wrist without a second thought, disappearing into the crowd long before his scream of pain is lost in the echo of blaring music and shrieks of sugar-fueled glee. 

You're in line behind a gaggle of chattering teens at an ice cream stand when your nerves prickle, feeling the weight of eyes on the back of your neck. Without turning, you inhale, nose wrinkling as the acrid smell of old blood fills your nose. They absolutely reek of the stuff - it's so strong that you're a little surprised even the humans aren't picking up on it. But then again, maybe they just can't pick it out under the layers of weed and exhaust smoke.

The teens disperse, laden with several precarious cones of ice cream, and the bored woman behind the counter waves you up. You open your mouth, but there's an arm around your waist before you can say a word, a cool body pressed against your side. A ringed hand slaps a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter, mismatched bracelets jingling with the motion. 

"We got the lady's order tonight, Peggy," comes a voice from your other side. You glance over the top of your glasses (cheap, heart-shaped things rimmed in vivid pink, scavenged from last night's meal) and meet the gaze of a cherubic blond, his pale blue eyes calculating as he worries his thumbnail between his teeth.  

The arm around your waist squeezes tighter. You turn your head, tilting your chin slightly so you can lock eyes with another pair of baby blues. They sparkle at you mischievously as your fellow vampire, bends to whisper in your ear, teased blond mane tickling your nose. "What can I get for you, baby girl?" 

You make a show of considering your options, pouting faintly as you prop a hand under your chin. You slip your other hand around his waist, idly toying with the mesh of his ridiculous fishnet top and grinning when he shivers at the scrape of your painted nails. "Chocolate shake, I think," you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. "Are you getting anything?"

Rocker boy shakes his head, tips you an exaggerated wink as he shoves the fiver towards the increasingly petrified-looking cashier. "Nah, all yours tonight."

"Sweet of you," you chirp, popping up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He beams at you sunnily, shooting an excited glance at the cherub over the top of your head.

Peggy pushes your shake over the counter, lid only half-on in her haste to get the three of you away from her little stand. You manage to flash her a smile (aiming for sympathetic, but perhaps landing closer to smug) before you're pulled away, happily taking a sip of your drink as the cherub comes to walk at your side, trapping you between their bodies. You address the rocker first, catching the way his eyes dart down to catch you licking the ice cream from your lips. "You got a name?" 

"You can call me Paul, baby," he purrs, then wiggles his brows at you suggestively. "Or daddy, if ya want." 

You snort around the straw of your shake, unable to resist the grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth. It's definitely one of the more low-effort pickup lines you've ever heard, but something about him - the goofy little eyebrow waggle, the answering grin when you laugh at him like he knows exactly how ridiculous he is, his overall puppyish manner - manages to push it over the line from sleazy to charming. "You should be so lucky."

"I'd be the luckiest man in the world, I think," he flashing you a smile that's slower, more seductive than his cheesy grin - the kind of smile that would make any pretty young human a little more willing to spread their thighs. 

It's perhaps more effective on you than you care to admit, but you ignore the lazy heat that curls down your spine, turning to bat your eyes at the cherub. "How 'bout you, handsome?" 

"Marko," he says shortly. His face is young, but he's definitely the older one here - you can always tell by the eyes. "And you're on our turf."

"What, a girl can't take a little vacation in peace? I thought this was a free country," you huff in mock indignance.

Marko narrows his eyes at you. "Free country, maybe. Not free hunting grounds." He gnaws his thumbnail again, scanning you like he's trying to judge a threat - though it seems he can't help lingering for a long moment on the bare skin of your thighs. "Mind coming with us? David wants to meet you." 

David. The name is familiar - Max's first, if you recall. From what you'd heard, he could be quite a territorial creature. 

Paul, perhaps mistaking your thoughtfulness for unease, squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, you're not in trouble. We just wanna make sure you're cool, you know?" His thumb draws steady circles over the arch of your shoulder blade. "This is our turf, but if you're not gonna cause any trouble, you'll be okay." 

The expression on Marko's face makes you doubt Paul's optimism, but you play along, curling a hand around his bicep and leaning in. "But what if I like causing trouble?" 

Paul grants you another sunny grin. "Then you can cause trouble with us," he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "I bet we could show you a good time." 

Marko clears his throat, distracting you from your flirting, and you're suddenly aware of the scent of blood grown stronger - along with the pungent smell of motor oil. Looking ahead, you see a group of bikes before you, two more vampires leaning against their respective rides. 

Both handsome, and you can tell they're both strong - but it's clear from a glance which one is the leader. 

"Thanks for fetching our guest," the blond - David, you know instinctively - rumbles, his voice a warm, sardonic purr. He looks you up and down, the weight of his eyes like a physical thing. "Welcome to Santa Carla."

"Do you give all visitors a personal welcome?"

"Only the interesting ones." He smiles at you, the edge of a fang glinting in the light. "Come with us. There's someone you should meet." 

You lift a brow. "Oh? And here I figured you were the one in charge around here?" 

"I am, don't get it twisted," he shoots back lazily, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from inside his duster. "But our sire wants to meet you." 

"Ah, so you're the lead enforcer," you muse, nodding. David gives you a look caught between exasperation and amusement and takes point as you're herded after him. "And you?" You chirp, turning to the dark-haired boy who walks behind you. 

He blinks languidly at you. "...Dwayne." 

Strong and silent. You can appreciate that in a man. 

You're lead to a video shop in the center of the boardwalk, fielding Paul's flirting, Marko's questions, and Dwayne's cautious stare as you go. David walks slightly ahead of the rest of you, puffing on a cigarette and occasionally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

As you approach the door you hear Dwayne sniff, his rumble of "Maria's not here yet," barely audible even to your heightened senses. 

"Good," David murmurs, pulling open the door with a merry chime of the little bell. He bows his head, making a sweeping gesture to usher you by. "After you."

Drifting inside, you're assaulted by flickering screens and lurid posters, a storm of color and noise. You run a fingertip down the spine of a videotape, but a whimper draws your attention. Bending at the waist, you catch sight of Max's hound hiding under a desk, watching you with ears pinned flat to his skull. 

Shame, really. You found him rather cute, but the beast had always been terrified of you. 

A familiar scent reaches your nose, and a familiar face follows soon after - though he's changed significantly since the last time you saw him. The trappings of the modern world suit him well, you have to admit; the thick glasses lend a sort of non-threatening charm to his face, which you suppose is the point.

"Thorn, what's gotten into"—he stops so quickly his shoes squeal against the floor, the friendly shopkeeper guise dropping in the space of a blink—You." 

"Maxie." You greet, inclining your head. "You look... alive. In a manner of speaking, of course." 

He steps between you and the hound, hands curled into tense fists at his sides. "What are you doing here?" 

"Just sightseeing, really," you say soothingly, holding up your hands in surrender. "Figured the time was ripe to catch up with the world, see how all my little birds are doing. Carmilla sends her love, by the way." 

"This is my territory," Max hisses through his teeth, eyes bleeding yellow. "You know you can't be here without prior notice, it's law—" 

You sigh through your nose and snap your fingers. "Maximillian, kneel."

He falls to his knees hard enough that the tile cracks under his weight. You step closer, lifting his chin to meet his furious glare; he visibly strains against your order, a vein pulsing in his temple. You have no doubt that he would tear your throat out if given the chance.

But you've been alive entirely too long to let a little upstart like Max get the better of you.  

"I'm not here to cause trouble," you say, calmly, but firm. "But I made the laws, Max. You would do well not to forget that." 

He bares his teeth at you, face fully transformed to reveal the beast within. You look at him impassively for a moment, then sigh, turning on your heel and edging past a stunned Dwayne. "I'll meet you outside, boys."  

You push through the door with more force than strictly necessary, the tinkle of the bell almost mocking your dampened mood. Disappointing. Max had always clashed with you, even if he lacked the nerve to do anything about it. You'd hoped that a few hundred years apart might have cooled his animosity towards you, but clearly that was too much to hope for. 

You suck on your straw, making a face at the airy rattle you get instead of ice cream. All out of milkshake, and still so thirsty.  

The bell jingles again, heralding the approach of Max's coven. "I apologize for not warning you," you say before any of them can speak, twirling your empty cup. "I did have a feeling Max would react badly to seeing me. He's always been a bit of a cunt when things don't go his way." 

"How old are you?" Marko blurts. 

"Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady's age?" You tut, waving a finger in mock-indignation. "Really. No manners at all."

David steps forward, eyes glittering in the neon lights. "You turned Max." 

"No," you say, smiling to show off the long, curving points of your canines. "But I turned his sire. And I turned the sire before her, too." 

Glances are exchanged. Dwayne and David hold each other's gaze for a long moment, then Dwayne breaks away to glance at Marko, murmuring something just quietly enough that you don't catch it. Paul smiles, curious and admiring, and when David looks back at you there's a cautious interest written in the lines of his face. 

"Tell you what," you purr, looping your arms around David's neck. His gloved hands come to rest on your hips, leather creaking as he idly kneads the flesh hidden beneath soft cotton. "My throat's feeling a little dry. Why don't you boys take me for a drink, and then I’ll answer a few questions."

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagine #horror imagines #sfw

[improvidence318]

i said screw it so here it is

howdy howdy, this is the anon with the 20’s lingo sheet. i don’t have a tumblr (though i wish i do tbh) and realized that i don’t know how to work shit on tumblr, so i’m just sending in the sheet through a text post. i am highly aware of the amount of power i’m bestowing upon you and honestly couldn’t give a damn

A

ab-so-lute-ly: affirmative all wet: incorrect And how!: I strongly agree! ankle: to walk, i.e.. “Let’s ankle!” apple sauce: flattery, nonsense, i.e.. “Aw, applesauce!” Attaboy!: well done!; also, Attagirl!

B

baby: sweetheart. Also denotes something of high value or respect. baby grand: heavily built man baby vamp: an attractive or popular female, student. balled up: confused, messed up. baloney: Nonsense! Bank’s closed.: no kissing or making out ie. “Sorry, mac, bank’s closed.” bearcat: a hot-blooded or fiery girl beat it: scram, get lost. beat one’s gums: idle chatter bee’s knee’s: terrific; a fad expression. Dozens of “animal anatomy” variations existed: elephant’s eyebrows, gnat’s whistle, eel’s hips, etc. beef: a complaint or to complain. beeswax: business, i.e. “None of your beeswax.” Student. bell bottom: a sailor bent: drunk berries: (1) perfect (2) money big cheese: important person big six: a strong man; from auto advertising, for the new and powerful six cylinder engines. bimbo: a tough guy bird: general term for a man or woman, sometimes meaning “odd,” i.e. “What a funny old bird.” blotto (1930 at the latest): drunk, especially to an extreme bootleg: illeagal liquor breezer (1925): a convertable car bug-eyed Betty (1927): an unattractive girl, student. bull: (1) a policeman or law-enforcement official, including FBI. (2) nonesense (3) to chat idly, to exaggerate bump off: to kill bum’s rush, the: ejection by force from an establishment bunny (1925): a term of endearment applied to the lost, confused, etc. Often coupled with “poor little.” bus: any old or worn out car.

C

cake-eater: a lady’s man caper: a criminal act or robbery. cat’s meow: great, also “cat’s pajamas” and “cat’s whiskers” cash: a kiss Cash or check?: Do we kiss now or later? cast a kitten: to have a fit. Used in both humorous and serious situations. i.e. “Stop tickling me or I’ll cast a kitten!” Also, “have kittens.” cheaters: eye glasses check: Kiss me later. chewing gum: double-speak, or ambiguous talk. choice bit of calico: attractive female, student. chopper: a Thompson Sub-Machine Gun, due to the damage its heavy .45 caliber rounds did to the human body.  chunk of lead: an unnattractive female, student. clam: a dollar coffin varnish: bootleg liquor, often poisonous. copacetic: excellent crasher: a person who attends a party uninvited crush: infatuation cuddler: one who likes to make out

D

daddy: a young woman’s boyfriend or lover, especially if he’s rich. daddy-o: a term of address dame: a female. Did not gain widespread use until the 1930’s. dapper: a Flapper’s dad darb: a great person or thing. “That movie was darb.” dead soldier: an empty beer bottle. deb: a debutant. dewdropper: a young man who sleeps all day and doesn’t have a job. dogs: feet doll: an attractive woman. dolled up: dressed up don’t know from nothing: doesn’t have any information don’t take any wooden nickels: don’t do anything stupid. doublecross: to cheat, stab in the back. dough: money drugstore cowboy: A well-dressed man who loiters in public areas trying to pick up women. dry up: shut up, get lost ducky: very good dumb Dora: an absolute idiot, a dumbbell, especially a woman; flapper.

E

earful: enough egg: a person who lives the big life

F

face stretcher: an old woman trying to look young fella: fellow. As common in its day as “man,” “dude,” or “guy” is today. “That John sure is a swell fella.” fire extinguisher: a chaperone fish: (1) a college freshman (2) a first timer in prison flat tire: a bore flivver: a Model T; after 1928, also could mean any broken down car. floorflusher: an insatiable dancer flour lover: a girl with too much face powder fly boy: a glamorous term for an aviator For crying out loud!: same usage as today four-flusher: a person who feigns wealth while mooching off others.

G

gams (1930): legs gatecrasher: see “crasher” get-up (1930): an outfit. get a wiggle on: get a move on, get going get in a lather: get worked up, angry giggle water: booze gimp: cripple; one who walks with a limp.  Gangster Dion O’Bannion was called Gimpy due to his noticeable limp. gin mill: a seller of hard liquor; a cheap speakeasy glad rags: “going out on the town” clothes go chase yourself: get lost, scram. gold-digger (1925): a woman who pursues men for their money. goods, the: (1) the right material, or a person who has it (2) the facts, the truth, i.e. “Make sure the cops don’t get the goods on you.” goof: (1) a stupid or bumbling person, (2) a boyfriend, flapper. goofy: in love grummy: depressed grungy: envious

H

handcuff: engagement ring hard-boiled: tough, as in, a tough guy, ie: “he sure is hard-boiled!” hayburner: (1) a gas guzzling car (2) a horse one loses money on heavy sugar (1929): a lot of money heebie-jeebies (1926): “the shakes,” named after a hit song. heeler: a poor dancer high hat: a snob. hip to the jive: cool, trendy hit on all sixes: to perform 100 per cent; as “hitting on all six cylinders”; perhaps a more common variation in these days of four cylinder engines was “hit on all fours”.  See “big six”. hood (late 20s): hoodlum hooey:  nonsense. Very popular from 1925 to 1930, used somewhat thereafter. hop: a teen party or dance Hot dawg!: Great!; also: “Hot socks!"  Rarely spelled as shown outside of flapper circles until popularized by 1940s comic strips. hot sketch: a card or cut-up

I

"I have to go see a man about a dog.”: “I’ve got to leave now,” often meaning to go buy whiskey. icy mitt: rejection insured: engaged iron (1925): a motorcycle, among motorcycle enthusiasts iron one’s shoelaces: to go to the restroom ish kabibble (1925): a retort meaning “I should care."  Was the name of a musician in the Kay Kayser Orchestra of the 1930s.

J

jack: money Jake: great, ie. "Everything’s Jake.” Jalopy: a dumpy old car Jane: any female java: coffee jeepers creepers: a term of exclamation jitney: a car employed as a private bus. Fare was usually five-cents; also called a “nickel.” joe: coffee Joe Brooks: a perfectly dressed person; student. john: a toilet joint: establishment juice joint: a speakeasy

K

kale: money keen: appealing killjoy: a solemn person knock up: to make pregnant know one’s onions: to know one’s business or what one is talking about

L

lay off: cut the crap left holding the bag: (1) to be cheated out of one’s fair share (2) to be blamed for something let George do it: a work evading phrase level with me: be honest limey: a British soldier or citizen, from World War I line: a false story, as in “to feed one a line.” live wire: a lively person lollapalooza (1930): a humdinger lollygagger: (1) a young man who enjoys making out (2) an idle person

M

manacle: wedding ring mazuma: money milquetoast (1924): a very timid person; from the comic book character Casper mind your potatoes: mind your own business. mooch: to leave moonshine: homemade whiskey mop: a handkerchief munitions: face powder

N

neck: to kiss passionately necker: a girl who wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s neck. nifty: great, excellent noodle juice: tea Not so good!: I personally disapprove. “Now you’re on the trolley!”: Now you’ve got it, now you’re right.

O

off one’s nuts: crazy Oh yeah!: I doubt it! old boy: a male term of address, used in conversation with other males. Denoted acceptance in a social environment.  Also “old man” “old fruit.” “How’s everything old boy?” Oliver Twist: a skilled dancer on a toot: a drinking binge on the lam: fleeing from police on the level: legitimate, honest on the up and up: on the level orchid: an expensive item ossified: drunk owl: a person who’s out late

P

palooka: (1) a below-average or average boxer (2) a social outsider, from the comic strip character Joe Palooka, who came from humble ethnic roots panic: to produce a big reaction from one’s audience percolate: (1) to boil over (2) As of 1925, to run smoothly; “perk” pet: necking, only more; making out petting pantry: movie theater piffle: baloney piker: (1) a cheapskate (2) a coward pill: (1) a teacher (2) an unlikable person pinch: to arrest. Pinched: to be arrested. pinko: liberal pipe down: stop talking prom-trotter: a student who attends all school social functions pos-i-lute-ly: affirmative, also “pos-i-tive-ly” punch the bag: small talk putting on the ritz: after the Ritz Hotel in Paris (and its namesake Caesar Ritz); doing something in high style. Also “ritzy.”

Q

R

rag-a-muffin: a dirty or disheveled individual rain pitchforks: a downpour razz: to make fun of Real McCoy: a genuine item regular: normal, typical, average; “Regular fella.” Reuben: an unsophisticated country bumpkin. Also “rube” Rhatz!: How disappointing! rub: a student dance party rubes: money or dollars rummy: a drunken bum

S

sap: a fool, an idiot. Very common term in the 20s. says you: a reaction of disbelief scratch: money screaming meemies: the shakes screw: get lost, get out, etc. Occasionally, in pre 1930 talkies (such as The Broadway Melody) screw is used to tell a character to leave. One film features the line “Go on, go on – screw!"  screwy: crazy; "You’re screwy!” sheba: one’s girlfriend sheik: one’s boyfriend simolean: a dollar sinker: a doughnut sitting pretty: in a prime position skirt: an attractive female smarty: a cute flapper smudger: a close dancer sockdollager: an action having a great impact so’s your old man: a reply of irritation speakeasy: a bar selling illeagal liquor spill: to talk spoon: to neck, or at least talk of love static: (1) empty talk (2) conflicting opinion stilts: legs struggle: modern dance stuck on: in love, student. sugar daddy: older boyfriend who showers girlfriend with gifts swanky: (1) good (2) elegant swell: (1) good (2) a high class person

T

take someone for a ride: to take someone to a deserted location and murder them. tasty: appealing teenager: not a common term until 1930; before then, the term was “young adults.” tell it to Sweeney: tell it to someone who’ll believe it. tight: attractive Tin Pan Alley: the music industry in New York, located between 48th and 52nd Streets tomato: a “ripe” female torpedo: a hired thug or hitman

U

unreal: special upchuck: to vomit upstage: snobby

V

vamp: (1) a seducer of men, an aggressive flirt (2) to seduce voot: money

W

water-proof: a face that doesn’t require make-up wet blanket: see Killjoy wife: dorm roomate, student. What’s eating you?: What’s wrong? whoopee: wild fun Woof! Woof!: ridicule

X

Y

You slay me!: That’s funny!

Z

zozzled: drunk

  have fun.

#it's the 20s slang list #thanks dude #submission

[shirtlesssammy]

6x05: Live Free or Twihard

Then:

Vampires are real

Now:

At a gothy bar, a girl shows an ID and starts looking around. She takes a drink and starts walking around. She bumps into her presumed date. Later, they’re really bonding --or well he’s pressuring her to reveal more about herself than she feels comfortable. She agrees to show him more of her poetry, and in the process of pulling the sheets out, she gets a papercut. The guy looks away TOTALLY not interested.

Actually, he’s more interested than he should be and takes off for her sake. 

He comes back though, because he can’t stop thinking about her. He pulls out his best Edward line and tells her they can’t be together. Bella Kristin disagrees. He’s done BAD things, girl. But she’s 17! He shows her his fangs. It only excites her. He invites her to see his world. And a gross dude pops out of the alley to go to chow town on her neck. 

Dean gives Lisa a call, seeing if she’d like him to visit. She misses him --of course. 

Sam has a bunch of missing girls. They’ve got a case.

They head to interview a parent of one of the missing girls, Kristy. They check out her room to discover she’s REALLY into sparkly vampires. Dean’s little “wow” says it all. Sam finds the girl’s computer, while Dean entertains himself with reading the vamp books the girl was obsessed with.

They read the emails and find the location where the girl met her fate. 

Meanwhile, a blood transport van is robbed. 

Sam gets on the phone with Samuel. He confirms that they’re hunting vamps and they need to find the nest. Dean and Sam head inside the bar to scope the scene. They find three potential vamps (well, actually just two because one kisses another dude and Dean Bean, you don’t have to look so awkward.) 

They split up to follow their respective vamp. Sam ends up in a storage area and slices his vamp’s head off easy peasy. Because Sam Fucking Winchester is Sam Super Fucking Winchester without a soul. Dean heads to the alley to break up a totally normal couple just making out. The dude wasn’t actually a vamp --he just pretends to be to get laid.

Dean gets jumped by the longhaired vamp. Sam rushes into the alley to watch the vamp beat up Dean. He has plenty of time to stop it --but just watches with a cruel and curious smile on his face. He watches the vamp feed Dean his blood. The vamp takes off (THANKFULLY) before Sam can kill him. 

Dean’s a vampire, guys!

His transformation involves hypersensitivity to sound and light. He tells Sam that once Samuel gets there, he needs to kill him. He also wonders why Sam isn’t more freaked out. Sam just wants to know how he physically feels --cause that’s normal Samuel. 

Dean heads to the bathroom to check on his little baby fangs. They’re coming in nicely!

Also, he totally runs away and heads to Lisa’s place. He acts cryptic but tells Lisa, “Thanks, for everything.” (Remember when Cas said those exact words to Dean when HE was being cryptic but knew he’d never see him again? I do.) Dean then tells Lisa he’s got to go --he’s not going to talk about it. He doesn’t want to bring it home. She gets closer and demands that he tell her what’s going on. Dean takes off, but not before waking Ben. He comes closer to Dean and Dean shoves him away--hard.

Later, Grandpa Campbell scolds Sam for losing track of his brother. But, surprise! Dean is lurking next to the refrigerator. He double pinky swears that he didn’t feed. “You can relax, I didn’t drink anyone. But...I came close.”

Dean begs for a quick ending, but Samuel reveals that he has a vampire cure - as long as Dean doesn’t drink any human juice boxes. There’s just one catch: he has to get blood from the vampire who turned him. Dean departs, armed with dead man’s blood and a can-do attitude!

Samuel spends a moment looking at Sam suspiciously. Apparently they both discussed the vampire cure months ago! So why didn’t Sam save his brother? WHY INDEED. Samuel implies that Sam did it solely to get a man on the inside and help them track the alpha vampire. 

Dean encounters Edward Cullen in the grimy, dark hallways of the vampire lair. Sparklepants the Vampire Boy offers Dean a refreshing blood cooler before they sit down and watch Nickelodeon together. “I killed so many people on the way over here,” Dean boasts awkwardly, turning down the blood. He just can’t eat another bite! Dean gets the feature tour of the compound. He’s been tagged as a recruiter for the vamps, on account of his pretty face. 

Dean encounters his sire. The vamp reveals his dirty scheme. He keeps the captured and turned women locked up until they’re “compliant” (EW) and then sets them out to catch hot guys, who in turn set out to catch hot girls. Etcetera! Ah, the circle of life. 

The vamp leans in reeeeeeeaaaal close and asks Dean if he wants the “private tour.” GOOD GOD I am deceased. 

Dean pulls out the vial of dead man’s blood, but one errant drop escapes the syringe and the game is over. They grapple for control, and Dean looks like he’s about to lose. But whispering descends from above. All the vampires collapse to the ground and in an instant, Dean follows. He dreams of a series of images - little girls and vampires and gothic country imagery. A man appears in the vision - the alpha vamp. 

Dean swims to consciousness just as all the vamps try to ambush him. Heads meet the blood cannon. 

Sam and Samuel pull up outside of the lair. A vamp breaks their windshield. 

Dean continues to murder his way through an entire building of vampires while Sam and Samuel fight off windshield vamp. They head inside to see room after room of dead vampires. “Looks like your brother has some Campbell in him after all,” Samuel mutters. DAMN RIGHT HE DOES. (Some Mary Campbell, that is.) They finally find Dean sitting in contemplation with his boot resting gently on his sire’s severed head. 

For Male Modeling Science:

Later, they prepare the cure. Sam demands to know what Dean saw of the nest - what visions did he have? Cold as ICE, Sam! Dean chokes down the cure. He vomits a truly next level amount of bile and his flashbacks go in reverse because, you see, HIS VAMPIRISM IS REVERSING. The last thing Dean remembers is the smirk on Sam’s face as he got turned. 

He wakes, physically whole but mentally as scarred as ever! The next morning, Sam presses Dean again. He wants to know what Dean saw in the nest. WHAT GOTHIC COLLAGE?

Alone outside, Dean calls Lisa and then immediately chickens out on leaving a message. He checks in with Sam as they leave - he’ll always have his back, right? RIGHT????

The Sparkle Quotes of Doom:

These aren’t vampires. These are douchebags

You’re pretty!

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