One Thing Maria Still Doesn’t Like To Acknowledge Is How Her Creators Primed Her To Be A Soldier The

not all hetero love stories are bad or "bland" or bad writing. the problem with smeyer is that she's a plagiarist and literally stole whole ass characters from l.j. smith and thought she was being slick like nobody would remember jacob black from the early 90s. yeah, jacob was never hers but she didn't even bother to change the name because she thought she could get away with it.

// well yeah that too. and she’s a racist mormon and didn’t give the quileute tribe any compensation for appropriating their folklore and stealing their name for her story without permission. she’s so racist catherine hardwicke had to fight to keep laurent’s actor because smeyer was like “oh but they’re all ‘pale’” and it was only because he’s a villain she allowed it. just awful stuff. the hetero thing was just a bit of a joke from this lesbian here and saying how I’m giving her side characters more life than she ever did (and there are some far more interesting pairings than Edward and Bella, like hello? I wanna know all about the Volturi for starters). but I agree with all of this. smeyer is awful and if she’s a plagiarist then I have no problem stealing her characters and making them my own too lmao

okay so I fear this happens every time I try to come back here (feel like I'm hangin around kicking rocks and not able to get any threads going properly) but this time I'm determined to let it stick. pls like this for a starter call and SPECIFY MUSE !

tag drop 1

She does not take his threats lightly, browns flickering with something lethal as he dares challenge her empire. The one she had built from the ground up after her makers had been destroyed. The nighttime in Mexico City belonged to her. The humans didn’t know the beings that lurked in their shadows, but some suspected enough to cling to their superstitions, their God in the sky. That crosses on doorways would keep her out. On this side of the Americas it seemed immortals held little of that same power, that they did not strike fear in humans hearts in quite the same way. In fact, it seemed Jasper was almost play pretending with them and his new pathetic little coven. Domesticated. A far cry from the primordial beasts they could be.

Yet she sees it there, the feral animal rattling at his cage. A smug satisfaction crosses her features. A wicked grin to match the mania in her eyes. “There he is.” She sings after he has released her hand, still feeling the pleasurable sting of his grip. His threats dull in comparison to the dark joy at bringing out his fury. An anger once so useful, so efficient, so malleable in her hands. So far from the image she was sure he sold his little pixie and the priest who’d taken him in. “Do you ever show this side of yourself to them?” Head tilts to the side as she peers up at him with a smirk. “What would your pequeña novia say to all that violence in your heart?” Sharp claws grip at the fabric around his chest, digging into the flesh covering his heart. Just enough to draw a little blood. Her own fury bubbling up at him daring to defy her - his creator, his GOD - and threaten the kingdom she had built. Where she had once made him a prince amongst mortals. A reminder of how easily she could take the gift she’d given him away had she wanted. Her voice takes on an almost girl-like tone as she pouts and mimics his wife. The one she’d seen flitting and fussing about as she’d tracked the strange coven. “No, Jasper! This isn’t you!” A dark giggle, the viper leaning closer, venom returning to her tone. “But it is, isn’t it? This is who you’ve always been. You kill me, it won’t take away from the fact you’ll always need more. You need something to satisfy that vacío inside.”

@prairieghcsts

Maria’s lust for power was not something Jasper shared, and that was the fundamental difference between them that his sire had never quite managed to grasp. The empath longed for a quieter lifestyle than one of perpetual battlefields and volatile armies of newborns could ever provide. But that sort of existence would never be enough for Maria. His sire was far too twisted by her own greed to understand his reasons for walking away, and the former soldier wasn’t particularly inclined to explain them to her anyway.

“Don’t,” Jasper spat as she came closer. “Don’t pretend you care. We both know all I ever was was a means to an end for you, querida,” the blonde reminded her, blue eyes narrowing dangerously at the smell of blood on her breath. He knew what she was trying to do, and instead of intoxicated at her attentions the way he once would have been…it only served to infuriate him.

Rising to his full height, he lashed out as quick as a snake and caught her hand before her nails could finish grazing his skin. “You’re welcome to try IF you think you can take me, Maria. But I am not your plaything anymore. Whatever I once felt for you will not stay my hand if you so much as think of making a move on me or mine,” he warned her, face curled into a dangerous snarl.

“Try me again and I’ll come home alright, darlin’. To tear your little kingdom and everything you’ve ever built within it to the ground,” Jasper growled as he released her hand.

I have today off so like for a starter? pls specify the muse you want it from too ❤️

We leave more life behind to take our place. Like this moonflower. It's where all it's beauty lies, you know. In the mortality of the thing.

She flashes the stranger a half-hearted smile; a tinge of sadness crossing her brow as she muses a moment on the man her brother had become - perhaps always was deep down. A tyrant, no amount of power would ever be enough for him. Much like their father to the drink, power was Aro's vice and here he was centuries on ensuring a constant supply. "I am not my brother, I would not make you do anything."

Placing the coat down next to her, Didyme sighs as she smooths the fabric of her skirt before rising to face her would-be executioner. "I believe in choosing the path that brings one delight. The one that makes your heart sing." Marcus. He had been her chosen path, and Aro couldn't even let her have that. She almost forgets herself, as if she is talking to a friend and not a foe. A grin of pearly whites quickly drops, her guard locking back into place. Throat clears, arms delicately folding at her chest. "Simply indulge me one last question, bloodhound, what would your chosen path be were you not sent to sniff out Aro's political enemies? Do you have a name?" Beneath the artificial contentedness she could sense in him, she was sure there had to be questions, desire to feel something true. She wonders if her Marcus was being held under the same pretense, her fingers reaching for the note to him in her pocket were she to not make it out of this.

“it is not my job to believe, or to listen. I think you know this.” Demetri spoke evenly, conscious effort to conceal his reaction to her. bloodhound, indeed. loyal tracker following a scent to its conclusion. capture or death. death or capture. again, again, again, again, again, & again. he didn’t let himself think about how long he had been doing this ( he still did not know that someone else would not let him think this, the thought only briefly entering his head before it would be ripped away again, leaving only an absence. "silly boy," Amun's voice would've echoed in his head, were his memories of his maker not blocked also ). 

she was legend more than she was real to him. whispers traded ever-so carefully within the limits of the white marble halls. mournful laments of Aro. his beloved sister, slain in war. innocent of everything, guilty of nothing. in truth, always a justification rather than an expression of unadulterated grief.

he should get this over with. he should fulfill his duty. & yet, this was not an ordinary hunt. despite himself, curiosity rose in his chest. 

“but if it was, what would you try & make me believe ?”

@blondiexbiites cont from (x)

Sharp, viper-like browns study the face of her latest captive as Maria leans back on her chair, heeled boots rested up on the metal table in front of her. The only furniture in the long abandoned warehouse she used for such interrogations as the one she had planned for the blonde. Pretty, like a sleeping beauty; though Maria is not easily fooled. Her own youthful beauty had fooled many men, but only another woman knew how the outward appearance of innocence could be weaponised against those who would underestimate her. A venomous creature wrapped in a pretty pink bow. One who had been making far too much noise in Maria's territory, and who had not heeded her first warning to move on and find a new hunting ground. The Mexican commander didn't give second chances.

Her right hand and some of her more trusted soldiers had tracked the blonde to the outskirts of the region, disoriented her with their chase until she was wandering the desert, starved of blood, and then struck. The vervain laced cuffs chained around the concrete pole had done their job keeping her at bay, though Maria had grown tired of waiting. Standing up, Maria slinks toward her like a snake inspecting its prey before the final strike. Crouching down in front of sleeping beauty, she waves the vial of blood beneath her nose. Something that would even make a vampire stir from a thousand year slumber were they hungry enough. "Levántate y brilla, princesa."

As the blonde begins to stir, Maria shoves the vial back into the pocket of her leather jacket saving it for later use. Eyes flash like a warning sign, the Mexican queen laughs dryly at the first words from her prisoners mouth. Crimson lips curl sharply into a dark smirk. "Oh, that's sweet you think this is a game." Head tilts to the side, inspecting the wound at the others head that was having trouble healing, likely put there by her soldiers. Slender hands reach to touch it, though the roughness with which her thumb strokes at the scar could hardly be mistaken for a caress. "I am sorry for the violencia, little one, but if you had listened to my first warning it would not have come to this." Maria pouts, feigning regret. She was never that sorry for violence; it was something she felt quite at home with, in fact. She lets go of the others head, standing up with a sigh as she turns, her back to her captive. "You have been making such a mess around town my generals have only just managed to clean up. One might say it seems like sabotage...." She reaches the table, inspecting the instruments of torture in front of her. Reaching for a sharpened dagger still glistening with vervain, Maria turns back to face her prisoner, one hand in her back pocket as she waves the weapon in the other. "I'm only going to ask you once - why didn't you leave when I asked you?"