#also 🦇🦇 😏😏

[sehtoast]

I am a firm supporter of the BenLander agenda, even if you do hurt the boyfriends.

strife is the spice of life, so of course I have to sprinkle it in their enclosure!

nah but I'm sooooo guilty of being a whump lover haha! my depowered bit with them is where I get all my whump needs out 😩 eventually I'll throw some fluff in there. I think there is some already, but it's literally such a small chapter lmao

maybe I'll throw an ice cream date in there sometime soon. or just some good ol smut 😌😌

that said, I have an angsty as fuck chapter coming. it's not super close to being done, but it's sitting at 5k words now and still growing hehehe

a sample for you my love!

“I always…” Homelander’s voice leaked in a tight whisper. “I used to imagine what I’d do if I ever… ever met her. All I could ever think of was hugging her but… I couldn’t even picture it because she was never real. I used to think if I did find her, maybe I’d feel okay… Like it’d make up for all these years.”

😌😉

[ghost-proofbaby]

Hour 19 😍 Steve! Such a bad spy. I did a huge comment on ao3 so I won't repeat here, but I saw you'd replied to someone saying that one of them is going to get outed next chapter and I can't wait. They've been all snuggly and cute and awkward the last few hours and it's time to open a can of worms for more drama. So evil. I love it. I hope it's coffee shop related.

Then Mordor! I'm gonna level with you. I haven't read it yet. BUT. only because I need to go back and re-read the last chapter because I don't have a scooby do what's going on because my memory is real bad. But I'll catch up soon. Willow and Eddie forever. IDST.

Also you do the funniest tags on your posts and asks and I always read all of them so just wanted you to know that 🖤

totally fine on the mordor part because honestly it was a bit of a back to back drop 😭 also we’ve all got lives here. it ain’t going anywhere — take all the time you need, and if you wanna scream about it once/if you do read, i’m always here 🖤

steve really is a bad spy. just imagine how the gang would assign him and robin to go spy on their first date and he blows their cover so eddie just sighs as they’re sitting with their coffee, both deciding the torture should end and they can stop putting on a bit knowing both their friends are near by, and he says “steve. dude. you fucking suck at sneaking around.”

the next few hours are a gentle mix of angst, as well as continuing to let these idiots explore all their awkwardness and cuteness, and i cannot wait 🖤

thank you for reading as always!! and oh my gosh, the fact that you read the tags 😭 you’re such a brave soldier. i’m not responsible for what i put in tags (though i do love dropping a good spoiler in them from time to time). <3

[ghostfaceprincess]

Them Cooking For You For The First Time:

-

TW: Language.

-

Michael Myers:

• I mean… he really did try.

• Surprisingly decent, it’s just a little burnt.

• He decided on steak and mashed potatoes.

• Hey, he’s proud of himself. 🤷🏻‍♀️

-

Freddy Krueger:

• Used his glove to cut up everything; and I do mean everything. The meat, the veggies, etc.

• He decided on chicken pasta with salad as a side.

• The pasta is cooked perfectly.

• He pairs it with a nice wine. 10/10.

-

Jason Voorhees:

• He… tried.

• It’s supposed to be spaghetti…

• Hey, the garlic bread is good though!

• Maybe you should do all the cooking and he’ll do the dishes.

-

Billy Loomis:

• He surprised you! The food is so good!

• He made chicken with mac and cheese, corn bread, and green beans.

• He did not make dessert though.

• He was hoping you could be dessert. 😏

-

Stu Macher:

• THIS MAN CAN COOK IDC WHAT ANYBODY HAS TO SAY

• A full meal plus dessert.

• Everything is cooked and seasoned perfectly.

• Yes, you heard me, s e a s o n e d.

-

Charles Lee Ray:

• He gave up before he even started.

• He ordered Chinese takeout and then plated it.

• He also paired it with beer.

• He didn’t think about dessert.

-

Tiffany Valentine:

• Oh, she went all out!

• She made you like four different meals and desserts to go with them.

• “I just wanted you to have options.” What a cutie!

• “The rest can just be meal prep!”

-

Bubba Sawyer:

• He made you the beeeeeest fucking soup you’ve ever had. Well, it’s more like a gumbo, but still.

• He made dessert as well; just classic chocolate chip cookies.

• He did ask his brothers for help.

• He smiles proudly as he presents it to you.

-

Thomas Hewitt:

• Did everything all on his own.

• Made ribs with fries.

• Literal 10/10.

• He knows how to add some flavor!

-

Art the Clown:

• Cook?

• Yeah, no. He gets take out and does not try to take credit for it.

• He does plate it very nicely though.

• Pats your head as he hands you your plate.

-

The Creeper:

• He let you pick what he made.

• And he did it perfectly too!

• There’s so much seasoning and flavor.

• Though, he can’t perfect all meals. Just this one and a few others.

-

Thanks for reading! 🦇🖤

[gabessquishytum]

Back on my hurt/comfort bullshit. 🤘 Dream has bad associations with oral sex. It was always treated as something he had to do as a punishment or something- like if he got into a fight with his partner, he was expected to suck them off as an “apology” and stuff like that. And going down on him was always treated like the worst thing in the world of course, so why would he want to subject his partner to that? So with Hob he’s reluctant to let him get his face between his legs, because in Dream’s head it’s like, well Hob hasn’t done anything wrong, so why would Dream “””make””” him do that? It’s hard for him to imagine giving oral as something that can be pleasurable. 

And then, on Hob’s birthday, he nearly BEGS Dream to let him eat him out, big puppy eyes and batting his eyelashes, “pretty pretty please let me eat you out 🥺 it’s my birthday 🥺 can I please, as a gift to me?” (he would never pressure Dream if he thought Dream really didn’t want to, and if he said no he’d back off, but he’s pieced together that Dream just has a messed up view on it)

Dream hesitantly agrees, and Hob basically throws himself at Dream’s crotch mouth-first. Dream nearly loses his mind because it feels so good, but also because it’s impossible not to notice that Hob is having the time of his life, he comes in his pants TWICE he’s having such a good time tasting Dream

Suddenly Dream thinks maybe going down on Hob might be something he could actually enjoy too, if he lets himself. Either way, he’s eager to try. If Hob can get it up again, that is.

-🦇

Oh this is extremely sweet. Dream having to be persuaded that Hob isn't lying, he does really really want to do it, please please please - I can imagine Dream nervously spreading his legs and squeezing his eyes shut, thinking that its all going to go horribly wrong -

Witnessing Hob’s pleasure is kind of life changing, actually. Its quite extraordinary to see the way his eyes brighten, his muscles relax, and he simply indulges himself. His hands slip around Dream’s thighs, his fingers grip into his skin and there'll probably be bruises tomorrow - Dream hopes there'll be bruises, holy fuck.

And the sounds that Hob makes are just obscene. Sucking, slurping wet sounds that would be gross in any other circumstance. He gets Dream’s fluids all over his face, at one point he just grinds his face into Dream’s crotch and his nose catches on all the right places, he's got precum smeared in his eyebrow and it's just so unhinged and so good. Dream’s view of oral is totally reframed. He notices along the line that Hob is actually humping the floor because he's so needy - at that point, Dream finally completely believes that he is having a good time. And he relaxes enough to realise that he is also having a really good time 😏

After that first session, Dream practically begs Hob to coach him on oral sex techniques, and although Hob is exhausted (and not entirely sure he can make his dick work again) he can't resist teaching Dream the finer points of blowjob-giving. Dream is an eager student, and poor Hob certainly gets his best birthday present ever... passing out from overstimulation as Dream sucks him off, determined to perfect his new skill <3

[bambiispots]

I posted my bind of Are You Flagging? earlier where I had a placeholder for a dust jacket.

I finally got my new design in!! I love it so much! I decided to go with a 80s style VHS box aesthetic and made it look vintage and grimy. I ended up liking it so much that I thought it’d be clever that if you “took the case off” it’d reveal an actual VHS tape 📼 📺 📼 📺

It was in incredibly tedious, but I love the concept and effect.

I like to use graphics in my typesets on blank pages to ensure all chapter headers start on the right, and I decided to go with a cute little Flagging 101 lecture! I was nosy and googled what the other colors meant, so by the end of the fic you’d know what all the basic colors stood for. And of course for the bookmark I just had to use a mini versions of Eddie’s hanky 🥹

My chapter headers represent Eddie and Steve- Eddie with his chain and bats 🦇 , Steve with his preppy polo buttons and a film strip from Family Video 🎞

This copy is for the author! the end papers are changed to tie in both the VHS cover and an alternate cover I’ll be posting later!

It’s watercolor babygirl pink and iykyk 😏

As always a huge thank you to the backbone of fandom- the writers and artists for providing such amazing products for us to consume and enjoy!

Are You Flagging? By Soidade on ao3 is an amazing top tier Steddie fic that I urge you to read. You can find it pinned on the authors page @ao3soidade

Also a huge thank you to @littleststarfighter for letting use their gorgeous art! I was so inspired I completely rebound this fic, redesigned the typeset AND redesigned my hardcase just so it’d match. They have quite a few stunning Steddie pieces so be sure to go show them love 🖤

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #14 (Part 2)

You already know what the fuck goin on. It's time for Quacklight: Bewitching Vampires in Duckburg AKA Donald Duck Twilight it's just Twilight you guys. I am ready for some HOT Y.A. DUCK ROMANCE!!!!

Why does he walk like that what the fuck is wrong with him

....hey wait a minute-

Everyone say BOOOO DONALD BOOOO he's being a misogynist 👎 it's cause vampires are hot hope this helps

girl 💀 not the claw marks

This is cause Scrooge lives there btw

Let her live her self insert wizard dreams dammit!

CLARA CLUCK SIGHTING LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

AAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAH SOMEBODY BUY THEM BROWN CONTACTS dude Dickie is just zonked the fuck out you can't convince me that she's not

NOOO HE GOT HIT ON THE ASS </3

oh nooo... she's stupid...

btw 15 dollars in 1790 is like 500 modern dollars if you adjust for inflation so ya boy is rich as fuck..... ladies 😏

No she's right stop holding out your skincare routine on us Donald. I mean Donward.

I read "SMAACK" and my first instinct was to think that Donald just full power bitch slapped Daisy straight across the face they really should've chosen a better choice of onomatopoeia there

DICKIE SIGHTING hi dickie :3

Listen. I've read this comic before. I thought I would be ready for cunty vampire Magicstone. I was not ready for cunty vampire Magicstone.

Also they don't even get cool new vampire names... though now that I think about it I guess "Magica" and "Gladstone" are already kinda vampire-sounding names aren't they. Like when have you ever met a mf called GLADSTONE?

NO IT WASN'T YOU GUYS FUCKING BROUGHT HER THERE 😭

the NUCLEAR CODES?!?!?!?

oh

They should let Donald bite people more often. Especially Gladstone.

I think he should have shot them with a real gun

So Donald and Scrooge are gonna act like they didn't enjoy the romance movie but here they are, sitting there looking babygirl as fuck, listening to Daisy and Brigitta rattle off about their whole ass YA novel masterpiece. Nice try boys I know what you are 🫵 you like vampire romance suckers

See??? Losers

Ok that's it I don't know what else you want me to say. I haven't even actually read Twilight or watched the movies sorry but I feel like I have a good enough understanding of what happens just from like being someone that was alive from the years 2008-2012. Happy Halloween 🦇 what do you mean it's septemb

[hypocriticalspicewrites]

Questions for fruitbats🦇🍒

Where on the guy’s body is most sensitive to the touch, it leaves them in a hot mess👀

What is something so small chrysta does, it just turns them on and just wanna go at it with her, right then and there👁️👁️

Out of all the guys, who tends to be more vocal in bed?😏

And who’s is more romantic in bed with their girl?🤭

-MJ~💖

MJ IM GONNA JUMP YOU AND KISS YOU PASSIONATELY YOU AND LAV ARE MY BAES WHEN IT COMES TO FILLING MY ASKBOX I LOVE YOU BOTH SM 🩷🩷🩷🩷 yall got my back ✨️🤞

Gonna answer each question with one of the boys~ 🤭

Were gonna start this one off strong daddy- I MEAN David... with your question, what body part is the most sensitive to touch? 👀

I've said before, David's hands are quite a weak point if you want to get him all quiet and shy [which is him just staring at you like he'd kill you but-] But there's one specific part or two on his body that if it's touched in some way that'd get you a pretty happy vampire~

David doesn't really melt, or get all moany and whiney- never in a million years will he be caught dead like that. But Chrysta gets a lot of grunting and the broken armrest of a chair if she teases at a really sensitive veins, especially one creeping down his v-line to his dick. Wether that be trailing her finger across it, or licking it, it drives him crazy. It takes about 0.01 seconds before he has her bent over a couch fucking her till her brain is sap.🩷🦇

Simple day to day turn on?

Anytime Chrysta is on him... Literally. Any. Time.

She's just hugging his arm? Horny. Arms around his neck? Horny. Hugging him? Showing wholesome, pure innocent love and adoration?

... Horny.

Especially when she asks him to take her riding for practice as she's sitting at the front of his bike, she does this little shimmy up real close so her ass is tight pressed against his groin. Wether she does it on purpose or completely no intention, who knows? All Marko knows is he's PRAYING she can't feel his erection in his jeans when she does it.

Loudest in bed?

That'd be Pauly here- Marko being a hot second with his pussy-drunk rambles. He is NOT a quiet lover with Chrysta or the other boys. He is moaning, groaning, talking, whining, giggling, all of it. He can't help it when Chrysta likes pulling his hair, nipping and biting or choking him a little bit- it makes him even more riled up with how nervous she is about it too.

He wants to be sure EVERYONE in that cave knows how good his mates are making him feel, or vice versa, this vampire has little to no shame in that.

Most romantic?

Dwayne takes the throne for this one. ✨️👑

Well, during sex he's pretty rough and quiet, but afterwards, he's a big teddy bear. 🥺

He's kissing Chrysta's face to wake her up, petting her hair and whispering sweet words and praises while making sure to touch and kiss any bruises or bites left over. He also makes sure she's all clean and comfy, checking on her the whole time while settling down for bed or just some post pillow talk and snuggles. 🩷

[fandomstars]

Amazing stuff you write out there. I like how your hc-s are not too long neither too short, your blog definitely deserves more attention ^_^ If you have time and not too much requests on your head could you write headcanons of tbb and their texting styles with their s/o? Like who would be the very formal one and who would write quite lenghty messages lmao. Anyways wish u a great day 😻

Aw thanks! Honestly I’m surprised since I feel like I write too short (especially on crazy stuff everyone requests haha), but I’m glad your enjoying my work!

Hm texting styles…sure why not?

Bad Batch x SO Texting

Hunter:

Definitely would be 50/50 on text length. Like most of the time he’ll be short and sweet, but there are moments he can’t help but go full length.

He doesn’t really do memes, but he occasionally sends a quick gif if he can’t text something quick enough.

Emojis he’ll send his SO: 😁😃😄🥹😂😇☺️🥰😍😘😚😜😎🤩😏🫣🤗😑😲🫶👍🫂💐⭐️🍯💌💘🖤❤️❤️‍🔥🤠

Crosshair:

He’s definitely one to go for short texts. It’s rare he will go on and on in length.

He’ll do memes and gifs a lot, but mainly memes just to spite his brothers / make you laugh. Don’t think if you send any he’ll laugh…you’ll never know.

Emojis he’ll send his SO: 🙃😘😗😙😚😜😎😏😤😳🫥😶🤫😐😑🙄🥱😈👿👻👍👋🫵👀👥🦅🦇🐦‍⬛🐍🪽🪶🐈‍⬛🌲🌹✨🔥❤️‍🔥🖤😉🤨

Echo:

He loves to do lengthy texts. He’s a romantic, and while it takes much longer due to cybernetics, he’d rather speak his mind than just something simple. Only time he does simple is if he’s in a rush/on a mission.

He’s secretly the king of memes and gifs. He did such more with his Domino squad, but while his memory is shaky at times, he has said skills ingrained in him. Crosshair doesn’t believe it.

Emojis he’d send to his SO: 😃😄😆😂😅🥹😇☺️😊😉😍🥰😘😋😝😎🤩🥳🥸😏🥺😳😱🤗🫡🫣🤔🤫😐😧🤐😈🤖👾🫶👍🤝✌️👌🖐️👋🦿🫂🤷🪖🦇🦜🍀🌸🌙🌟☀️🫧🧁📚🩷💖💙🦾

Wrecker:

He loves to text you! He’s more short text, but he might do a lengthy text if he ever feels like it. Mainly after a tough mission/day.

He loves to sent memes and gifs, like he’ll flood your message board with them.

Emojis he’ll send to his SO: 😃😄😁😆🥹😅😂🤣😇☺️🥰😘😍😉😋😛🤪😜😝🥸😎😏😳😱🤗🫡🤭🫣🤫🫨😧👻😸😹🫶👏👍👊💪🫵🫂🐱🦍🌷⭐️💥🔥☀️🫧🥞🧇🍖🧁🍬🏋️‍♂️🎉💛💘💞❤️‍🔥👋

Tech:

He will try to text you as much as he can when separated. While he’d rather type out in length to you, he’ll most likely do short due to being busy.

He’s also secretly a genius at memes and gifs. His brothers have been texted one every now and then, but they don’t know the mass amount he’s sent you that make you roll on the floor laughing every time.

Emojis he’ll send to his SO: 😄🙂😇☺️😉😘😗🧐😏🫡🫢🫣🤔🤫😶🫥😧😯👍🫶👏🖐️👋👥🧑‍💻👓🐞🐱🐋🐘☘️🌺✨🪐☀️🌊🍨☕️🚀📱📚💜🤍💝💘🛠️

[violetasteracademic]

pls tell me twisted fates will have a lot of smut :) :) :) :)

Hiiiiii lovely anon!

Thank you so much for reading A Court of Twisted Fate 🥹 I have gotten a few messages asking if the new story will have similar smut to Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow. The smut WILL be happening, don't you worry! But I want to be very forthcoming that this is a slower burn than Golden Doe and a longer period of time with them fighting their *obvious to everyone but them* feelings for each other.

I approached Golden Doe the same way I would a novel, with very structured character and plot arcs and really pushed myself to keep the action driving forward. Because of this, Azriel and Elain got together (and I mean *got together* 😏) quite quickly.

I'm taking a bit more of a languid character forward approach in this new piece, which is a bit less action-forward and insular story-wise but heavy on Azriel and Elain's head spaces and emotions. Thus, it will take more time for them to give in to each other.

I'll be really interested in learning which you guys prefer, and I always value the feedback from this incredible community!

I also am looking into creating an audio version of both fics, so stay tuned for that!

All good things in time 😘 🦇🌸

[inspiredwriter]

*Un rato en el Centro comercial*

Mayhem Leo :*se acerca a Stefany con los batidos* mira gatita te traje tu batido favorito 😊😉🧋🍫💕❣️💘

Mayhem Stefany :*mueve sus orejas*Miau, te lo agradezco mucho tortuguita 🥰😻💞💖💗💝*resive el batido y lo bebe* Mmm, sabe delicioso siempre me gustó Starbucks 😋😄🧋💓💘❣️

Mayhem Leo : jajaja, si Starbucks siempre es la mejores malteadas de del mundo 😏😊💕💓💝💗*bebe el batido*Mmm~😋😄🧋💘💞❣️¿qué haces mañana nena?😕😄💖💗💕

Mayhem Stefany : bueno mañana iré al parque hará una fiesta de parrillada familiar 😃😁👨‍👩‍👧🥩🌳🍃*toma la mano de Leo*y te gustaría ir mañana para que conozcas a toda mi familia 😊😄💝💗💕❣️

Mayhem Leo : bueno Me encantaría mucho Stefany 😀☺️💓💞💖*se rasca la cabeza* bueno quiero hablarte algo contigo 😙😅💓💕💗

Mayhem Stefany :*se agacha la oreja *está bien Lee, Qué quieres decirme 😟🥺💖💞❣️💝

Mayhem Leo :*se sonroja* bueno Stefany tu sabes que a veces siempre visito tu casa y tú a la mía Cuándo estamos juntos y dormimos juntos 😳🙁🏬💗💘💓

Mayhem Stefany : Pues sí claro porque me preguntas te molesta tortuguita 😟🤨💖💗❣️💕

Mayhem Leo : Qué No, no me molesta no quise decir eso 😖😅💦*juega con sus dedos* Es que quiero decirte si te mudarias conmigo en las alcantarillas para que podamos estar juntos 🥹😣💼🎒❣️💘💓💞💖

@inspiredwriter

Mayhem Stefany: *Stops drinking cocktail and her ears stand on end* Oh, my God, Leo!😲😳🧋💘💗🩷💕 Huh, can you imagine that a few days ago I also had the idea of ​​inviting you to live with me and my parents🤭🥰🏬💼🎒👨‍👩‍👧💓💗💞 *Kisses Leo on the cheek* Mmua~😚💋💖🩷💞 Haha, that means you and I have the same thoughts😃😍💓💝💖💕

Mayhem Leo: Well, not really, Stefany, I wanted you to live with me and my family🥺💓❤💕 Don't worry, we always clean our den thoroughly and that's why there's almost no bad smell in there😅🤗🧹🧽🧺💖💘💞

Mayhem Stefany: Oh, that's not the problem at all, sweetie, just I heard that many different mutants live in your lair, besides you and your brothers🥺😥🦇🐸🐊🦎🦏🐗 *Whispers in Leo's ear* I feel a little awkward making love in places where many mutants or humans live🤫😳👥💓💞💝

Mayhem Leo: Yeah, you're right, my flower, those mutants that live in our lair are terribly curious🤔😓 One day Mondo Geko found our album with photographs, took out photos from there and stuck them on his face😬🦎 And also Wingnut...😧🫢🦇 Eeeh, simply put, these guys have not yet fully adapted to the human world the way my brothers and dad have😅💦 But we diligently teach them this and they are making progress in this😅😁

Mayhem Stefany: But my Dad is almost always at work, and my mom is at the pastry shop, where I sometimes help her🤔👮🚔👩‍💼🍰🧁 I think in my apartment it will be much more peaceful for us to spend time alone🤗🥰💗💖❣️💞 Don’t worry, my daddy doesn’t bring weapons into the apartment anymore...😅💦🚫🔫👮 *Takes Leo’s hand* But your opinion is no less important to me, Lee🥺💓💘💕 Do you think it’s better for you to live with me, or for me to live with you?🤨😟💝💗❤💕

@swagreecrow

[transmurderbug]

It's Picrew time again! Thank you for the tag, Willow! @ian-galagher ❤️

So many at once!

The first one made me realize I need a haircut soon, but I love that hoodie season us upon me and I can finally be cozy 😌

The second one looks sooo comfy. With the bat sweatshirt and the chicken hoodie 🐤🦇(best combination), plus I look like I'm plotting something 😏

I LOVE the third one! It made want to assemble my bow and go out practicing. Picrew me also seemed to have wrapped their arms, because they know how much it hurts to get hit by the bowstring 🥴 I also have a little snake companion! I had a hard time choosing between the frog and the snake, but this time I had to go with the latter 🐍 and the hood with the cape? I WISH I looked this cool 😁 Fourth one! A little colorful potion, with more bats. Because bats are important 😤 It's a little bubbly and swirly and I'm not sure why it's labeled with a mushroom, but what could go wrong? It looks tasty 🤪

The fifth one is definitely based on my dog who looks this absentminded and NOT amused 24/7. Minus the proportions, because he's literally the size of a pony (comparisons have been made). All of these are so cool! I loved making them 🥰

Tagging some awesome people to play along, if you want to. Or have some of my oddly labeled potion! 😁

@energievie @palepinkgoat @francesrose3 @juliakayyy @creepkinginc @thisdivorce @sweetperversiongirl @transmickey @gardenerian @mybrainismelted @stocious @suzy-queued @crossmydna

[descendant-of-evil]

My Disney Descendants OC:

Her face claim is Elizabeth Olsen:

OC's Outfit and Sword:

Information about my OC:

°Full Name: Lilith Ombretta Cheronobog

°Aliases: Lily, Etta, Little Darkling, The Sinner's Bane, Umbra Insulae (the shadow of the island), Vindex (punisher), Diabolique, Discordia...

°Gender: Female

°Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

°Species: Demon/Demigod hybrid

°Age: ???? (demons age differently so technically she's ancient but she physically looks 21)

°Status: Immortal

°Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (leaning towards evil)

°Hair Colour: black as her soul (sometimes dyed as dark blue ombre)

°Eye Colour: chartreuse (but when she uses magic it turns an eerie yellow)

°Complexion: deathly pale

°Personality: Lilith is a chaotic pessimist made out of sarcasm. She's so very unapologetic with what she says and she uses dark humour as a coping mechanism. She gets aggressive around some villains (like Gaston and Frollo) but turns docile around some of the villainesses (cough... Maleficent... cough... Helga Sinclair). But besides that she's surprisingly very helpful (but only when it suits her😏)...

°Family: Chernabog (father, estranged, dead), Eris (mother, estranged, alive)...

°Love Partnership Interest: ☠️ (Flirt and flounce but when they want to settle down... bounce...)

°Friends Allies: The Core Four, The Sea Three, (sighs) Yen Sid, The Anti-Heroes Club, Dizzy Tremaine, Hadie, Hades, Dr. Facilier, Celia Facilier, Freddy Facilier, Diego DeVil, Harriet Hook, CJ Hook...

°Enemies: Most of the adults on the Isle, King Beast, Queen Leah, basically all the Vk haters...

°Hobbies: Beating the shit out of the sinners of the Isle (mostly Gaston and Frollo...), Protecting the younger Vks from their abusive parents, Annoying Yen Sid, Hanging out at Dragon Hall (because you're never too cool for school), Flirting with the MILFs of the Isle 😏...

°Occupations: Substitute Teacher (at Dragon Hall), Babysitter (for younger Vks), Manager (at the Bargain Castle shop)

°Pet: a fruit bat (named Alucard🦇)

°Powers & Abilities: Umbrakinesis, Chaos Magic, Dark Magic, Demon Summoning, Bloodbending, Flying (with wings or when she turns into a swarm of bats), Shape Shifting, Allspeak, Super Strength, Fast Reflexes, Heightened Senses, Super Intelligence...

°How she ended up on the Isle: Well... she volunteered to go with Yen Sid to the Isle, so that they could teach the children of the Isle how to live without magic (and to also make sure that the villains don't tear him apart)...

°How her life was before the Isle: Lilith grew up isolated, in a cave at the Bald Mountain, so she immediately left for adventure when she was old enough to take care of herself. She travelled many realms and had many romances and misadventures, meeting strange people along the way... one of them was Yen Sid.

They didn't get along at first but eventually they became frenemies of sorts (more like civilised enemies) that engage in friendly banter whilst fighting each other (kinda like the Merlin and Mim dynamic). They only became true friends when Lilith helped Yen Sid and Mickey Mouse defeat Chernabog in an epic final battle on Bald Mountain. After the battle, Chernabog's remains was buried beneath the Island that would later be known as "The Isle of the Lost"...

"Death is inevitable, suffering is optional..."

[amberaddamstg]

No real goth girl would be caught undead without her copy of Pornography ☠️🖤🦇

Did you know that I also have a Twitter/X and a free Onlyfans? You should follow me there to see what kind of other things I get into (or out of) 😉😏💋🖤

[heartbrake-hotel]

Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

[siriannatan]

I have too many ideas and too little time to write 😔😕 and an urge to watch Shadowhunters and maybe finish it, since I kind of dropped it on season 2 or 3... Those two thoughts might be connected...

Here are some of my thoughts in case I never write it.

ScfWhimmy Shadowhunters au

Jimmy is a hunter with the local Institute along with Groan, Joel and Pearl.

Scott is a local warlock who Jimmy often is send to ask for help, for some reason 😏

fWhip, a vampire that really wants to die but cannot, decides to stick around Jimmy while looking for a way to die

Can just waltz into the institute even if it should technically just outright kill him

Sausage, also a warlock, Scott's good friend

Pix ??? Sausage's mysterious boyfriend - possibly a demon😈 or a powerful vampire🦇

[caelesjjk]

and the winner is…

hello my sweet darklings, I’m here to announce the results of my fic poll that I’ve had open for about a week now. To say I was a little surprised is an understatement lol.

I’ll post the results below the cut so I don’t clog feeds!

In first place:

I am so surprised but also elated that this one got so many votes. It ended up with 32 votes, which made it the winner by a land slide! This was one of those ideas where I thought it was just off the wall and no one else would like it but I have been proven wrong lol. Look forward to seeing Shadow King JK in the near future 😈😏

In second place:

Was also surprised so many of you wanted this one! My crazy idea for alien Jimin! But honestly, this is one of my fav ideas so I’m super happy you guys were feeling this.

In third place:

Y’all this is the fic that I’m most excited about writing. The ideas and twists and action and romance and the pining and the confusion. Omfg I just love it and I can’t wait to get into it.

In fourth place:

This is the angsty fic of the bunch and I haven’t written anything quite like this before so I’m glad you guys wanted to see it so much. Plus I really love writing namjoon 😍

In fifth place:

Get ready for our sweet, sexy, and ridiculously rich sugar daddy seokjin. I’ve got big sexy plans for this man.

In sixth place:

Y’all this one is gonna be so cool. It’s based off a an older movie that my mom used to watch all the time when I was a kid and in turn, made me obsessed with figure skating lol. I can’t wait to write Hobi like this, sexy and cocky and in love before he knows it.

Last but not least:

Suuuuuper surprised this one got the least amount of votes. And maybe it’s because the summary didn’t mention that taehyung is covered in tattoos and has a dick piercing? Lmao 👀👀👀

All of these are going to be written eventually so if you were super excited about one that didn’t get as many votes don’t worry, it is still on the way! I may not write these in this exact order, I might be feeling something else more, but I greatly appreciate everyone who voted and left me amazing feedback. I love having an idea of what my readers want to see.

-sarah 🦇