Minecraft needs a hand holding mechanism literally just so Cleo and pearl can hold each others hand so they don’t get lost and show others they are sticking together
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torturing angel is on my mind again. theres so fucking much you can do to a vampire honestly. especially angel and his catholic guilt. you can link the psychological whump to the physical whump so well by just using symbols of holiness that hurt vampires. spray mister with holy water all over him. pouring holy water in his eyes and blinding him. although my favourite thing that ive thought of yet is a muzzle with a crucific or cross on a chain on the inside thats forced in his mouth. completely destroying the inside of his throat. he wouldnt even be able to scream.
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I know the joke about pearl being Cleo’s guard dog makes a lot of sense but Cleo is quite literally pearls guard dog she ONLY cares about pearls safety she attacks everyone who even just playfully hits her she don’t care about teams just about pearl and i love that for them
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Vampire with really bad anxiety who’s been having a rough time. Making sure his casket’s been sprinkled with fresh grave dirt, and funeral flowers are waiting for him. Making sure he is clean, warm showers to wash away the weird snake shed dead skin smell. He comes home and just lays his head on your shoulder, doesn’t try to hug you, but doesn’t stop you from holding him either. Staying up all night to watch old movies, just so he’s not alone, even tho you’re getting more and more tired and have work tomorrow. He keeps asking if you’re okay, telling you to go to sleep, but you want to stay up to keep him safe. How silly. A lonesome predator of the night being scared by a loud noise. You’ll stay by his side all the same.
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Imagine if there’s nothing actually preventing vampires from entering your house without permission it’s just they are very polite
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TFW you and your crush discover that you’re both sci-fi nerds 👽🛸 (from Chapter 11: The Cabin Game)
“You may now reveal your answers,” Lestat declares.
We flip our papers.
I scan the answers, gearin’ up for a touchdown dance.
And then I freeze.
My heart stops. Like actually stops. I think I flatline for half a second.
All three papers say the same thing.
“Ah!” Lestat crows, clapping like a demented Victorian quizmaster.
“We have a tie! The correct answer is: ‘Okay boys—make it count.’ Congratulations! You both get a point.”
I turn towards Elsie, jaw draggin’ across the floor.
She’s gapin’ at me, eyes nearly buggin’ out of her head.
“YOU watch Voyagers of the Fifth Gate?” she stutters.
“YOU do?” I stammer back.
“Ohhh!” Lestat coos. “You both watch the show! Mon dieu—the stars themselves are conspiring!”
Elsie and me are starin’ like we’re seein’ each other for the first time.
She breaks the silence first.
“Well, of course I watch Voyagers,” she snaps. “The Gambit of Stars is only the best forty-three minutes of television ever produced.”
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Read Shane: The Cabin Game on AO3
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Today’s Aesthetic: Orlok
ALTThe OG
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ALTShe’s more reptilian than the “standard” look, but the bald head, gnarly fangs, and pointed ears are still recognizably Orlok in style.
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When you’re listening to these guys and your daughter says “are they vampires why are they so white?” 🤣😂🤦🏻♀️
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more dance roughs!
everyone get more rotoscope pilled now its sooooooo fun guys
anyways shot one of the dance is roughed out! might need to adjust some things, and their dresses will def have more volume/be longer but im using these as a guide for the movement of the fabric for the final dresses. lets hope this doesnt fuck me over later <3
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Caught looking 👀 (from Chapter 2: A Flicker in the Dark)
🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙
I’m watching him without meaning to. A gentle warmth invades my cheeks.
Oh god, not now. Not tonight of all nights. I don’t need this.
He turns his head, as though sensing my sidelong glance, and our eyes lock. Dark, expressive eyebrows and a mess of black hair.
He looks away quickly. Heat rushes to my face and I stare down at my whiskey, twisting my ring around my finger and clinging to whatever shreds of dignity remain to me.
My stomach churns. Nice one, Elsie. Very smooth.
It’s not just the dark scruff and sharp line of his jaw. There’s something going on under all that gothic brooding that makes it hard to look away.
Silly girl. Always courting chaos.
🔗 Read Elsie: A Flicker in the Dark on AO3
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There needs to be a lesbian movie with one vampire and one werewolf and they are both Neurodivergent. And the vampire loves cuddling the werewolf
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So why is Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V. E. Schwab on so many people’s lists for best SF&F of 2025?
This is a vampire story, people. A horror story. There are other lists for those.
I just wasted hours reading this thing, hoping it would turn into something else. But at the end of the day (or night, actually) it was still a fucking vampire story.
Yes, it’s well written. It’s involving. It’s vampires. Yuck.
One of my favorite quotations from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld is Granny Weatherwax on the subject of sin:
“Sin, young man, is when you treat people like things. Including yourself. That’s what sin is.”
Vampires are the ultimate fictional users. Everyone is a thing to be used. This is also why I do not think supposedly sexy evil characters of other types are fascinating. I know a bunch of Saiyuki fans think Nii Jianyi is sexy. The hell with that entire idea.
The real world at the moment is populated by an awful lot of people who might as well be vampires. They use up others and don’t care, because they themselves are the only thing that matters. I don’t need to spend my time reading about fictional vampires. The news is full of the real thing.
Fuck vampires.
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I think I’ve finally figured out why I’m so obsessed with vampires despite the fact that I really don’t like the concept of death and creepy things. Well, I don’t consider myself dark but those who know me well keep insisting I am. Which I just don’t see how it’s possible to be dark or creepy when you’re obsessed with pink and fairies?
Anyways, I digress. My point is it’s because of my PTSD. I relate to them in a weird way I guess. I feel like I’m here past when I was supposed to be. Wandering the world beyond my natural time. Living among people who don’t seem to fully grasp the concept of tragedy and mortality. While I try to blend in because I look like the same species but I feel in my gut that I’m not. Because I feel like when those things happened to me that I really did die. Maybe in another timeline I did. Idk. Ugh.
Talking like this is probably why they call me dark. Why can’t I just not take it this deep? Screw it, it’s probably just my period.
I love you,
sweet dreams
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Necrotic Love Bite: Beast of Blood
Still filled with shame, sobbing into the chests of her mother and father alike on their plush sofa. They had moved from the kotatsu after their legs went numb, but the tears would not stop.
“Why did you let me back in after I disappeared on you all?” She sobbed.
“Because you have a home here,” her parents (mother or father) told her. “We never wanted you to get hurt, we just wanted you to do what made you happy.”
It sounded too unreal. Too rehearsed. Like they were compensating for something, or settling. It tasted sour, sublime. Some sort of vinegar brine pickled yuzu citrus fruit. But she was still happy to have some form of love to turn back to. It wasn’t fulfilling, her heart still remained on the floor, even if swept aside, but it was enough to give her an image of health among the pain she was in.
So days went by where she picked herself up. She made an active effort to tell her parents about her passion for wearing expressive costumes and styling her hair, and her parents made an effort to sound supportive. In exchange for small house chores every now and then, she continued to live with them and she found herself smiling.
But something, deep within her, still ached. Still called out to her.
She was only strong enough to ignore the voice, one which sounded like herself. To everyone else, she was a perfect model of health. Someone who made a recovery from heartbreak. Her parents couldn’t have been more proud as she switched from part time to full time work, and she even talked of finding her own apartment.
All that ignored how she could no longer stand going to concerts as it just reminded her of Kei. Venturing out in public, in daylight, was seared her with shame over facing other people. There was a general sense of fearfulness when it came to romance and she made an effort to distance herself from anyone who might have tried to grow closer to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t desire, either. Oh, no. That desire burned at all times. But any time that she tried to imagine herself with another in an intimate manner, something long-term, committed, it always twisted in her mind as something horrible. It ate at her. Even as she kept up with her daily meals, a hunger grew in her.
She knew that she should have moved on, and maybe if she had a stronger resolve, those thoughts would cease to pervade her mind. Sometimes, she even confessed such things to her parents. They would tell her, “these things take time.” Hell, they themselves may not have even cared whether Hitomi was in a relationship with a woman or a man. Maybe they really wanted her happiness, no matter what that looked like. But none of that satisfied her.
Ha. She smiled. Still dressed loud and big, but was more reserved, and managed a bookstore. Whenever her parents visited, she greeted them with a smile. Maybe all heartbreak really needed was some time for the wounds to heal.
At age 20, Hiiragi Hitomi fell ill as if some mad fever overtook her and died soon after.
She wasn’t sure what the last words her parents said to her. She would have liked to imagine they said, “we have always loved you.”
Maybe that should have been enough, but she died hungry. That was never a good thing.
Hitomi clapped her hands as if she had some chalk on them that she wanted to dust off.
“So that’s my story. How I met Kei. How I became a vampire. When I awoke from my grave, I had an instant understanding on what I was, then what Kei was. I sought out others who could sate my hunger, and each of them ended up dead and dry. I have an enduring yearning. Kei was an illusion, but an important part of my past to which I cannot forget.”
“I feel you. I somewhat miss her, too,” Manaka admitted.
“Don’t lie to yourself,” Hitomi scowled. “You’re smitten. It’s so obvious, it’s rotten. This is the spell Kei has on women.”
“I knew it! Kei is a Carmilla type!” Manaka lit up.
“What?!” Hitomi spat. “There’s no such thing. That’s a work of fiction.”
“When it comes down to it, aren’t most classifications a work of fiction based on facts?”
Hitomi rubbed her temples. She was getting so frustrated that she wished she was hungry so at least she didn’t have to leave empty handed. Even after telling that woman about Hitomi’s past, she still felt mediocre disappointment.
“Then again, Kei herself is a work of fiction. Kei was never her name, it was just something she heard me say. After I became a vampire, I would sometimes sate my curiosity and stalk Kei in private. This worked for a few years until I managed to find the will to realize just what Kei really was and how any pursuits would turn out fruitless.”
“What did you find out?”
“There’s nothing there. Kei is a facsimile of an existence. Her abilities as a vampire include both charming any woman Kei may be attracted to and appearing to fit in to any surrounding as long as she still resembles herself. And that’s all she sees herself as: a resemblance. And because she sees her existence as a fake, any affection others feel for her is assumed to be fake as well. And because those are fake? Well, the world itself may as well be a work of fiction. And you know what? Who’s to say she’s wrong?”
The vampire and mortal stared at each other in silence. Manaka broke it, “well, maybe I don’t believe she’s fake. So who’s to say her truth is the truth?”
“That makes no sense!”
“And have we proven she has charm power? Maybe you and I just have the same taste in women?”