NIGHT SUN

ind. vampire original character * by paola ! * bio. * rules.

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young Salma hayek

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i’m in

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every1 should just ask patricia if she’s a vampire already straight up so we all can move on

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what if the reason there aren’t any vampires is because they only could drink their same type of blood and checking if the victim was compatible would obviously take so long. what if vampires did exist but extinguished because they didn’t have the proper means.

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Visit Original Link

Palmar - Caloncho

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ambihextrcus·.

“An’ what, do ya reckon, coulda done such a thing?”  Lot of urban legends and strange tales from these parts, and while Jonah didn’t believe in any of that garbage it certainly was hard to ignore that a significant amount of unusual things happened, like animals pierced and drained of every ounce of blood, left out to dry discarded with no regard.  The money to find out whatever had been doing this though, had been greater than any disbelief in superstition or local myth.  Deep weathered grimace, seemingly permanently painted onto his face, remains stoic as he still examines the pointed out wounds with his good eye.  Take a hell of a lot of effort for any normal man to go to these lengths.

“Take about eight ‘r ten men t’overpower some of these beasts– Let alone get ‘im still enough t’do work like all that.”

          she’s  diving  into  deep  thought  with  a  finger  to  her  chin  doing  its  best  to  aid.  oh,  who  would  see  her  right  now,  so  fresh  and  with  a  full  tummy.  the  feigned  concern  beyond  the  opacity   of  her  sunglasses. so  blatant,  roughly  laughable.      ‘  the  proper  amount  of  pain  killers.  maybe  it  is  a  collective  job;  knowing  the  right  spots  to  hit  you’ll  make  the  devil  himself  your  bitch.  it’s  not  so  different  from  being  in  bed.  ’      a  pause  and  she  exchanges  a  scornful  look.      ‘  you  don’t  happen  to  believe  in  el  chupacabras,  do  you,  mister---?  ’

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amoiras‌.

  huh. wasn’t expecting that.  what was it with ladies and guns recently ?  it hadn’t been the first time she’d been in a room with a gun.  jeannie rowe had been shot in the shoulder not too long ago by an angry meal.  she’d eaten her anyway.  she’d only planned for a snack but she’d gone for the whole buffet since she needed to heal.  it was funny how karma came to bite people on the ass.  there was a joke in that somewhere.  she hasn’t reacted yet other than turning to look at the gun.       ❝ you do know you’re only three years older than me. ❞    

  a pout, eyes flicking to look back at patricia.       ❝ i’ll do it, but also if i win, you also kiss me.  if i lose, you get to stab me or drink my blood.  do you drink other blood or just animals. ❞      is she doing this to be a pain ?  oh, 100 percent.  she has never not been able to rise the occasion in that regard.

          a  sided  smile.  ninety  three  years,  one  hundred  years,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years— a  soul  remains joyful  as  long  as  you  allow  it  to.  the  ‘life  is  too  short’  speech  might  no  longer  apply  on  her  ( them ),  but  why  subsist  eternity  with  an  attitude  other  than  positive and  such.  after  eight  decades,  running  to  fulfil another,  there  must  be  ways  to  add  an  additional  spark  to  everyday events.  this  being  nothing  but  that.

          jeannie’s  terms  are  laid  down  and  a  threat  to  her  faith  hazes  the  amusement,  only  to  return in  a  crocked  sneer.      ‘  just  animals.  anything  else  feels  wrong.  unless--  ’      the  chair  drags  closer  and  closer,  the  nearest  she  could  witness  what  follows.  ribs  practically  pressing  against  the  table’s  edge.      ‘  let’s  do  it  like  this:  it  hits  me,  i  kiss  you.  it  hits  you, my  first  taste  of  human  flesh  and  blood  comes  from  your  boyfriend.  ’      a  pause  and  she  hadn’t  beamed  so  truthfully  the  whole  evening.      ‘  it’s  my  gun,  so  it’s  courtesy  i  let  you  go  first.  ’

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          ‘  aside  from  bringing  some  coins  to  my  pockets,  love  has  proved no  use  to  me.  ’      the  words  of  a  heart  that’s  been  kept  alone  for  so  long.  quite  long,  yet  not  enough.  although  her  attention  goes  here  and  there,  filling  boxes  with  the  remaining  books  and  readings  kit  so  the  single  residual  tent  could  be  finally  put  away,  her  beliefs  are  solid.      ‘  it’s  not  me  not  giving  information  on  that  man  so  i  can  spare  his  life  because  i  love  him.  it’s  me  not  giving  information  on  him  so  i  can  spare  everyone  time.  including  myself.  ’      a  pack  of  books  tumbles  in  the  gap  within  their  feet,  allowing  her  palms  a  rest  upon  hips.      ‘  it’s  hopeless.  now,  would  you  be  kind  and  help  me  carry  this  one  to  my  car?  i  can  only  do  so  much  with  two  hands.  ’

@killicence

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me getting followed by all these western blogs: tips sombrero

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salma hayek in interview | 1995

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          ‘  magic  is  not  to  be  understood,  captain.  nor  is  love.  you  can,  however,  believe  in  them.  do  you  not  believe  in  love,  captain?  ’

@vvarbled.

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          the  weight  of  persistence  drops  to  her  chest  and  leaks  so  gracefully  through  a  prolonged  sigh.  hands  leave  the  coffee  cup  for  a  moment,  guided  to  the  room  of  her  purse  with  determination  igniting  her  eyes.  switching  her  glare,  now  fixating  on  jeannie,  a  gun  lands  upon  the  table  alongside  a  cold  thud,  next  to  the  biscuits.      ‘  a  single  bullet.  ’      she  begins,  yet  feels  like  there’s  no  more  explanation  needed.  the  corners  of  her  lips  twitch  into  a  gentle  smile,  then  resumes,      ‘  it  is  like  flipping  a  coin.  it  hits  you,  i  stay  as  i  am.  it  hits  me,  my  love,  i  eat  a  man  whole.  ’

@amoiras.

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          ‘  they  are  deep.  about  five  to  six  centimeters  apart  from  each  other.  ’      surely,  the  morning  after,  papers  will  read  something  about  some  sort  of  epidemic;  quadrupeds,  horses  and  cows  taking  the  cake,  have  been  found  lifeless  away  from  home.  as  though  dealing  with  a  secret  government  project,  the  patterns  comprised  a  couple  of  small  openings  right  in  the  jugular  and  a  peculiar  scald  on  the  femoral  biceps  that  trespassed  the  skin,  which  is  the  next  target  of  patricia’s  pointer  finger.      ‘  y’see  that  right  there?  that’s  muscle,  and  it’s  fully  pale.  it’s  drained,  mister.  the  horse  has  been  drained.  ’

@ambihextrcus.

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okei, let’s actually start this off: like this for a starter!

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imagine being able 2 turn either into urself but sexier w longer canines n dark circles OR into a cute flyin mouse like darn i wanna b a vampire so bad 

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new header , fuckos  (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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bio is up , fuckos (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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Piedad’s gums rip when her canines elongate and that shit takes time to heal.