casshasfangs

[casshasfangs]

Do fans bring signs to your gigs? If yes, what's been your favourite?

Yeah, I love it. They make these signs and have like, in jokes with each other.

The best one said, "How many letters in Shoshana?"

[casshasfangs]

So as the leader of the band, how do you make sure everyone is doing exactly what you say, when you say it? Must be so hard.

Leader of the band, what is this, D12?

We all do different shit. Shosh is good with media, I've got music and lyrics down, Dani is legendary live, Rhett is best with the fans.

[casshasfangs]

Is watching porn cheating?

What? No, that's crazy.

[casshasfangs]

I'm in love with you and the whole band please let me have your babies!!!!! <3 <3 <3

[casshasfangs]

FMK Shosh, Rhett, Dani

That's a gross way to ask and talk about women, and I'm not going to participate.

Fuck Rhett, Kiss Dani, Marry Shosh

[casshasfangs]

Favorite holiday tradition?

I don't know if it's often enough to be a tradition, if it's only happened once.

But on Christmas, I got some powdered jam doughnuts and ate them with Shosh, and it really helped me feel close to my Dad.

[casshasfangs]

(A kitschy holiday postcard that says 'Season's Greetings from Luxembourg!' The postcard is unsigned and has no return address, but there is a handwritten message in what looks like blood...) I'm making a list and checking it twice, gonna find out who's naughty & nice! Santa Claus is coming to town ♡ xxxxxx

"Verlie!" Cass called, tossing the postcard on the dining table, "One of your weird ass friends sent a Christmas postcard! Can't you have your shit sent to your flat?"

[casshasfangs]

Exclusively for Cantis Magazine, we spoke with The Band Cthulhu ahead of their new winter release album, Dog Days.

The newest member of the band, Dani Royce, hails from Liverpool. But she didn't grow up with the Hogwarts education of her band mates, explaining, "You could say I was homeschooled, but even that doesn't fit. I learned by living... I got to pick what my passions are and my family encouraged me to grow them."

Indeed, Dani's passion for music had her lending her talent as a bassist to gigs across Liverpool, where The Band Cthulhu discovered her. "We first heard Dani play at an indie venue, and we absolutely knew we wanted to play with her, then and there." When we remarked that joining the band was a lucky break for the Liverpool witch, guitarist and singer Cass replied, "Honestly, we're the lucky ones that she's joined us."

We haven't been given any demos of the new album. In fact, the band are proud to share that they too, will hear the first play through of the entire album with their closest fans, at an invite-only birthday soiree for Shosh Edelman, the band's keyboard and synth player.

"The tracks are all original," Shosh answered when asked about the album's unique sound, "No covers, it's all our own work. We've been able to work with some artists that we all really admire. But it's definitely a step up from our last album."

We can't let mention of Cthulhu's debut album go by without asking about the sudden announcement of the band's 'break' earlier this year. Rumours have swirled online for months about the cause of the end of the fledgling band- but the resounding argument from fans is that sex, drugs and rock and roll was the band's downfall.

"Obviously we wish that things didn't end the way they did last time. We were all really hurt, and nothing good was coming of it by the end. But we're coming back better, and more prepared. I think the fans are going to be really impressed." Said drummer Rhett Andersen.

In preparation of the album's release, The Band Cthulhu dropped a surprise music video, hitting 1.2 million views in the first hour. For a wix band, Cthulhu's online presence has been a defining factor of their rise to fame. Band members share 'vlogs' and 'tiktoks' of their day to day, inviting fans to have personal relationships with both the band, and each member of it. Indeed, Cthulhu's utilisation of technology, unabashed advocacy for Being rights, and mobilisation of fringe outsiders as a fanbase, marks a seismic shift in the wix music industry.

-Melinda Hopsworth

[casshasfangs]

"You can talk to her, she'll get it, honest. She might even be able to help with the bloodlust stuff, give you tips," He said, earnestly, "Her whole family are donors. Like, most of the blood that's at events, maybe half of the registered donors in Europe, they're all Redlockes. Father even had one of them, when he was younger-"

Something caught in his throat, and he swallowed it down, determined to stay present for his friend. So when Shosh continued, mentioning that Verlie had seen her play as a child, he responded with gusto-

"That doesn't surprise me," Cass admitted, "The vampires she donated to used to cart her all around the world. She loved it, used to come back raving about her travels and jewels and gold and whatever. I think it sorta stung when I left for Hogwarts, so she got her piece back by triapsing all over the globe."

Cass frowned, only managing to mouth a silent 'what the fuck' through Shosh's explanation for Clem's whereabouts. Frankly, when Shosh said that something had happened in the Den, his imagination had gone somewhere else entirely. Knowing Clem had nearly fucking died made him feel bad about it, he would have blushed if he could.

The vampire swallowed, turning to face her. "I think... I think just because something horrible happened to her, it doesn't change what happened," Certainly, it was hard for Cass to think or speak positively about Clem, who'd never had a kind word for him. Clem was scrappy, and messy, and aloof, all things that he'd never associate with Shosh. But he was working on being supportive, so he added, "But I'm glad she's okay, y'know? Unless you want to get back with her, maybe it's just about waiting for her to reach out. She's making it pretty clear what she wants, and I don't think that makes her a dick. I don't think it makes you a dick, either."

He sighed, cocking his head, "Do you wanna stay tonight? Can't promise Greggs and hot chocolate in the morning anymore. But if you want to stay, you can." He smiled, shrugging.

Cass tucked his head on Shosh’s shoulder, glad to have her close. He hummed, “We’re okay.” He replied breezily.

The other question took more to consider. Cass didn’t know if he would ever really, truly, be in a place where he’d consider himself ‘okay’. Not with everything that had happened, and not with the way his mind seemed to favour depression to the point where it seemed a comfort.

“And me… I’ve got a lot on my mind,” He admitted, shifting where he sat so that he was facing her. He pursed his lips, then lifted the edges, an ‘it is what it is’ kind of smile. “But I see my therapist, like once a week, and I’ve got Derek, and the band’s back together. And as much as I wish it was literally anyone else- it’s good to see you with Verlie. Donating is kind of like… Your thing, you know. It’s weird picturing you not doing it.”

He cocked his head, “Verlie can probably relate, actually. She was a donor for ages before she was turned. Dad said her family nearly started an all-out war in the Council when it happened. I’m sure she’s told you all about it.” Cass waved his hand dismissively.

“But anyway. Are you okay?”

[casshasfangs]

The European High Council of Vampires

The European High Council of Vampires is the central organising council for all of Europe. They meet quarterly at minimum, to discuss issues pertaining to those with the Dark Gifts. Each Region has their own High Council to discuss minor regional affairs. Regional European Council decisions that pertain to the Eternal Rules, or to vampires outside of the region, are unenforceable until affirmed by the European High Council. Each European High Council meeting must have at least two voting members present from each Regional council meeting. Notable names related to the High Council include:

Central and Eastern Europe

Sascha Holbein inherited their seat from their Maker, an Ancient vampire. A patron of the arts, Sascha is an acclaimed fashion designer and stylist, whose aesthetic revolves around the exclusivity of their brand.

Ivan Androkov earned his seat at the establishment of the Council, due to his sizeable coven at the time. Ivan regularly hosts million-dollar soirees, where the climax of each night is a live feeding frenzy.

Sophia Di Nichols assumed her position after her Maker was killed during the Vampire Wars of 1830. There is a voting bloc in place attempting to remove her from her position.

Tannaz Davidovic is a particularly unpredictable voter- when she bothers to show up. Shallow and callous. The first woman to sit on the European High Council.

Northern Europe

Mary Ducane was "elected" as secretary for the Council in the 18th century, after she was found guilty of planning to turn her twelve year old human daughter. While she had not actually committed the crime, so could not be executed, her "crime" meant the Council decided that she needed to "reside" full time in the Council chambers, and serve them for the remainder of her existence as penance.

Stefan Guomittor is generally regarded among the council as a young, liberal voter, despite being several centures more experienced than some other members.

Malachi Ricci is known as a ruthless decision maker, with a proclivity towards bloody, violent results no matter the subject of discussion.

Western Europe

Henry William Halestorm earned his seat as the result of his advocacy within the British Ministry of Magic. Deceased.

Robin. Inherited her role from her Sire, Henry William Halestorm. At the time of writing, Robin has not assumed her role within the Council.

Adela Marbot is the main representative for her coven, who collectively hold a seat, as the oldest coven of vampires in France. Largely voiceless, her opinion does not count for much.

Southern Europe

Elias Farrugia inherited his seat from his Maker, who is currently at the end of a century-long punishment for breaking the Laws. Determined to show that he is not one to break laws as flagrantly as his Maker, Elias always errs towards caution and votes without compassion for alleged rule-breakers.

Antonio Costa had a seat purchased for him by Ivan, with whom he had a very brief affair. Antonio is a charismatic vampire, and the Council's choice to replace Henry Halestorm as Being Representative to the British Ministry of Magic, before the position was filled by a half-veela.

Caius di Affogular, one of very few remaining Ancient vampires. For this reason, his votes are considered with more weight than other members. Regional councils have been known to bribe him to move to their Council area for the voting power alone.

[casshasfangs]

Cass tucked his head on Shosh's shoulder, glad to have her close. He hummed, "We're okay." He replied breezily.

The other question took more to consider. Cass didn't know if he would ever really, truly, be in a place where he'd consider himself 'okay'. Not with everything that had happened, and not with the way his mind seemed to favour depression to the point where it seemed a comfort.

"And me... I've got a lot on my mind," He admitted, shifting where he sat so that he was facing her. He pursed his lips, then lifted the edges, an 'it is what it is' kind of smile. "But I see my therapist, like once a week, and I've got Derek, and the band's back together. And as much as I wish it was literally anyone else- it's good to see you with Verlie. Donating is kind of like... Your thing, you know. It's weird picturing you not doing it."

He cocked his head, "Verlie can probably relate, actually. She was a donor for ages before she was turned. Dad said her family nearly started an all-out war in the Council when it happened. I'm sure she's told you all about it." Cass waved his hand dismissively.

"But anyway. Are you okay?"

Cass scratched the quill in circles around his palm as he listened to Shosh tinker with his song. He had written it with the keyboard in mind, all synth sounds, but he’d never be able to be as creative with it as Shosh could. Cass nodded along to the song, giving a hum. He shrugged at her feedback, “I’m sure it’ll sound better with synth. I thought Eric might have some clips we could shove in there, too. Make it feel… Otherworldly.”

He pulled a face when Shosh suggested he sing. It was generally accepted among the band that while Cass was a decent singer, Shosh was better. Dani shit all over him easily. Rhett was even a better fucking singer than him, and she occasionally farted into the microphone when no one was paying enough attention to her. Cass was the better writer of the group, though, and he tended to be better at multitasking, so took on most of the lead vocals. He shrugged again, “Sure, if you want.”

Cass didn’t need the sheet music, he’d done a deep dive when he wrote the song and committed it to memory. So he didn’t go to sit with her, but he did lean back in the lounge he was under, moving the weighted blanket so it wasn’t as heavy on his abdomen. Shosh took this as a sign to start, and he reminded himself to breathe before he sang.

“My boyfriend wants to love me, but I won’t let him. I’ve been predisposed to trauma since I was eleven, so I wrote a couple songs to let out some aggression. I hate that I’m so self depricating, more comfortable in bad situations…”

He tried not to focus on the content of the song too much, instead watching Shosh as she played, following her cue for subtle changes. He could not, would not, did not, think about what he was singing about- because it was a sad song, and he was trying to do better about not trauma dumping on his friends, even with music.

He pursed his lips as the song finished, and then let out an exhale, “This is a pretty fucking depressing song to be playing on Christmas.” Cass said, tone flat. He met Shosh’s gaze from across the piano, then cracked a grin, before wrinkling his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles.

[casshasfangs]

Cass scratched the quill in circles around his palm as he listened to Shosh tinker with his song. He had written it with the keyboard in mind, all synth sounds, but he'd never be able to be as creative with it as Shosh could. Cass nodded along to the song, giving a hum. He shrugged at her feedback, "I'm sure it'll sound better with synth. I thought Eric might have some clips we could shove in there, too. Make it feel... Otherworldly."

He pulled a face when Shosh suggested he sing. It was generally accepted among the band that while Cass was a decent singer, Shosh was better. Dani shit all over him easily. Rhett was even a better fucking singer than him, and she occasionally farted into the microphone when no one was paying enough attention to her. Cass was the better writer of the group, though, and he tended to be better at multitasking, so took on most of the lead vocals. He shrugged again, "Sure, if you want."

Cass didn't need the sheet music, he'd done a deep dive when he wrote the song and committed it to memory. So he didn't go to sit with her, but he did lean back in the lounge he was under, moving the weighted blanket so it wasn't as heavy on his abdomen. Shosh took this as a sign to start, and he reminded himself to breathe before he sang.

"My boyfriend wants to love me, but I won't let him. I've been predisposed to trauma since I was eleven, so I wrote a couple songs to let out some aggression. I hate that I'm so self depricating, more comfortable in bad situations..."

He tried not to focus on the content of the song too much, instead watching Shosh as she played, following her cue for subtle changes. He could not, would not, did not, think about what he was singing about- because it was a sad song, and he was trying to do better about not trauma dumping on his friends, even with music.

He pursed his lips as the song finished, and then let out an exhale, "This is a pretty fucking depressing song to be playing on Christmas." Cass said, tone flat. He met Shosh's gaze from across the piano, then cracked a grin, before wrinkling his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles.

He wanted to say so many things. Sascha thinks I should be a vampire and Christmas just really really sucks without my Dad and and it feels so good to be writing music again and I want to tell you so many things about Her but you’d hate every single thing I said and I missed you and I can small Verlie all over you and Sascha thinks I should be a vampire.

Instead, he managed a gulp of air, trying to stop himself from outright sobbing. He decided to stop breathing, finding it the most helpful option to keep the tears at bay. He shook his head, squeezing her fingers right back. He raised his wand and muttered a quiet incantation, then leaned closer to Shosh as the makeshift burial finished itself.

Cass watched the space where the box was, wary of any disturbance or trick, and when there was none, he was hit with the startling realisation and Pomonia was, finally, gone.

____

Cass could have stayed outside far longer, but Shosh’s fingers were getting awfully cold, and she was clenching her jaw to try and stop her teeth from chattering. Without mentioning either, Cass politely suggested they go inside for tea.

They ended up in Shosh’s room- Cass lounging under a plush weighted blanket, gulping down a scalding hot tea, while Shosh sat at the piano, flitting her fingers back and forth in an improvised tune. He put his teacup down, murmuring that he’d be back soon, and excused himself to the music room. He rummaged around his desk for a while before he found what he was looking for, then walked back, a quill in one hand, brushing under his chin.

“I wrote something the other day,” Cass finally said, placing the scrawled sheet music in front of Shosh. He shrugged, collecting his blanket and going back to his self-imposed nest once more. “You don’t have to play it. Just thought you’d want to see it.”

[casshasfangs]

you sold me for parts

The music came in the same way it had when Rosalind Albany was young: in the middle of the night, through a restless sleep. Except when she was younger, she would roll over in bed, rummage on her bedside table for a pen and napkin, scrawl something semi-coherent and then try to sleep until she could get herself somewhere that she could play music without disturbing her sleeping roommates. Now, she pulled back the sheets of her hotel bed, strode across the room to where her phone was charging, unhooked it, and sang into the voice recorder:

“You sold me for parts, as you sunk your teeth into me…”  and then a hum of a tune, a few whispered words about a key, a piano, and then, “I knew it was strange, you only came out at night… Bloodsucker, dream-fucker, no, fame-fucker, you’re bleeding me dry…”

When she was younger, that would have been enough to allow her at least a few hours of sleep. The words and music would stop until the sun rose. But Rosalind hadn’t written like this for years, bordering on decades.

She pressed her fingers deep into the corners of her eyelids, then folded her hands under her chin, staring at the wall, illuminated by her phone light. She wished she was back home in LA, where it wouldn’t be strange to head to a studio in the middle of the night, hit with nostalgia. Where uber drivers weren’t suspicious of a 3am pickup, and drive-thrus supplied coffee by the gallon. England would have to do.

Ros dressed simply, and didn’t bother with makeup given the hour. On her way to the door, Rosalind eyed her guitar, still in its case, pressed against the wall. Did it even still play? Why did she bother packing it, if she knew she wasn’t in the business of writing anymore? Ros pursed her lips as she tied the laces on her shoes, and then picked up the case, before leaving her room.

—

White Witch Studios was designed to not allow an inch of sunlight through its doors, so Rosalind literally lost track of time. She must have spent hours down there, transitioning from strumming her guitar, to scrawling lyrics and notations on pieces of paper, to sliding on a pair of headphones and singing lines over and over until they sounded correct. It was how it had always been when she was younger, the situation and the emotions overtaking her until they had to pour out into her music. Like a weight in her chest, a frenetic energy that rose within her, spilling everywhere. It puddled at her feet, and rose, and for moments, Ros would tip her head back as if the flood was lapping at her neck, and she was desperate for air.

When the front door to the studio was opened, Ros gave another gasp for air, blinking. She closed her eyes, arched her back and stretched out her neck. Inhaled, and exhaled. The energy in the studio was frantic at the best of times, but even the best of them wouldn’t have coped with the emotional energy Ros expended when she wrote.

She placed her guitar on a stand, then collected her papers, heading out of the recording booth just as Shoshana entered and flung herself dramatically on the couch in the mixing room.

“Shosh,” She greeted the girl, sliding her work underneath a cup of coffee that was long since cold. 

Shosh, who was clearly still irritated with her for not disclosing her friendship with Sascha, eyed the blonde irritably. She swept a critical gaze over her, and Rosalind folded her arms, raising her chin. “Are you like… Okay?”

Rosalind rolled her eyes, then started to switch on the monitor in the booth, ready for them to play back and discuss the song Shosh had recorded the day prior. “Of course not. I just read the consultant report on loss margins, if the band decides to continue this tantrum.”

Shosh also rolled her eyes, and Ros turned from her to focus on the computer, searching for the files Eric would have uploaded overnight. Ros tapped her fingers irritably as she searched for it, then pulled out her phone. Eric had not finished the track. He agreed with her- Ignorance was not a solo acoustic piece.

“Is it ready?” Shosh asked, turning her head as though she couldn’t possibly bring herself to be anything other than horizontal.

“No,” Rosalind admitted, and Shosh quirked a brow. That was not how Rosalind did things. The razor-sharp woman ruled her work life with an iron grip, missing a deadline wasn’t just a rarity, but an impossibility. “It’s not a solo piece, Shosh.”

Shosh’s cheeks went pink, and Ros heard her breath tighten. “Yeah, well…” Her voice got a bit squeaky, “There’s not a lot I can do…”

“While you’re here, I’ve got something else for you, too. New song. It’s written for guitar, but I’m sure you could adapt it. Here-” With one hand, she took her coffee, and with the other she passed her music across to Shosh. 

Shosh raised her arms so that she didn’t have to sit up, reading the music and humming the notes- not dissimilar to how Ros had, minutes ago. She let the papers rest on her chest, frowning, “Is this open market?”

“No, private sourced.” Rosalind replied, turning back in her chair to prep the booth for the new track.

“Who wrote it?” Shosh asked, finally able to sit up and eventually stand.

Rosalind ignored her for a moment, busying herself with prep work, before Shosh entered the booth, putting on headphones as she had the day before.

“Who wrote it?” Shosh repeated, her voice echoing in the booth before Ros stood to close her in.

Ros put on her headphones, then folded her hands. “I did,” She answered simply, then moved on, “Try to keep it in the same key there- it shifts up after the second chorus.”

Shosh’s mouth was half-open, she looked at Rosalind, dumbfounded. “You wrote this.” She said, doubt dripping from her achingly teenage tone, before she threw her hands up, “When are you going to tell me what the fuck’s going on? First, you’re long-lost besties with Sascha, now you’re telling me you’re- what, a lyricist?” 

Rosalind pursed her lips. A lyricist. Frankly, the title was almost an insult after everything she’d pushed to accomplish in her career. “If you don’t want to record, Shosh, we can go home. I have plenty of other places to be.”

@virtuoshosh

[casshasfangs]

He wanted to say so many things. Sascha thinks I should be a vampire and Christmas just really really sucks without my Dad and and it feels so good to be writing music again and I want to tell you so many things about Her but you'd hate every single thing I said and I missed you and I can small Verlie all over you and Sascha thinks I should be a vampire.

Instead, he managed a gulp of air, trying to stop himself from outright sobbing. He decided to stop breathing, finding it the most helpful option to keep the tears at bay. He shook his head, squeezing her fingers right back. He raised his wand and muttered a quiet incantation, then leaned closer to Shosh as the makeshift burial finished itself.

Cass watched the space where the box was, wary of any disturbance or trick, and when there was none, he was hit with the startling realisation and Pomonia was, finally, gone.

____

Cass could have stayed outside far longer, but Shosh's fingers were getting awfully cold, and she was clenching her jaw to try and stop her teeth from chattering. Without mentioning either, Cass politely suggested they go inside for tea.

They ended up in Shosh's room- Cass lounging under a plush weighted blanket, gulping down a scalding hot tea, while Shosh sat at the piano, flitting her fingers back and forth in an improvised tune. He put his teacup down, murmuring that he'd be back soon, and excused himself to the music room. He rummaged around his desk for a while before he found what he was looking for, then walked back, a quill in one hand, brushing under his chin.

"I wrote something the other day," Cass finally said, placing the scrawled sheet music in front of Shosh. He shrugged, collecting his blanket and going back to his self-imposed nest once more. "You don't have to play it. Just thought you'd want to see it."

When Cass eventually looked up at his elder, shame riddled his features, as if the vampire could see right through him. He expected to be called out for his lie, expecting that either Shosh or Henry would have spilled his deepest secrets at some point. Instead, Cass folded his arms, letting his gaze drop back down again until they finally took his glass.

Cass swallowed, picking up his jacket and shrugging it on, offering the other a wry smile that broke the tension. “I trust you with the clothes,” He quirked a brow, “If you hurt Shosh… Well. I can’t promise any throat ripping won’t occur.” He gave a playful grin, then headed for the door.

He turned for Sascha when the other called him, expecting some sort of farewell or instructions for when to return for another fitting. The information he was given instead… Wrecked him. They held onto something. It sliced down his stomach, and Cass stood, feeling every inch of his guts spill out into his hands. He could feel his throat sliding down into his belly.

He wrapped his arms around his waist, gripping the edges of his jacket as he paled. Cass nodded stiffly, and even through his very visible pain, he croaked, “… Please.”

—

Truthfully, Cass had not expected anything. He did his best to erase Sascha’s offer from the back of his mind as the days led towards Christmas. Normally, he would have planned a night in for Shosh’s birthday, but Verlie had whisked her away for a romantic evening somewhere, and Cass was left trying to work out how to navigate his first Christmas without his Dad.

He’d been eating a bag of powdered doughnuts in the sitting room when the box arrived, a note warning Cass of its contents affixed. Cass had sat for a while, staring at it, doughnuts forgotten, before he suddenly scooped it up, grabbing his coat and marching outside.

The entirety of the Dracula Mansion’s backyard was dead. Henry had always wanted to hire a gardener to fix it up nicely, but given he’d never be able to walk around in the sunshine to enjoy it, he hadn’t been bothered. Cass stalked through the tangle of weeds and branches until he found a blackened, ashy tree.

Keeping the box tucked under one arm, Cass removed his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the frozen ground before the tree, watching as it shovelled a nice hole. When it was large enough, Cass let his wand drop, then looked down at the box under his arm. He took it in both hands, and closed his eyes.

Even though the memories were tainted, brushed with the indelible traumas that she’d laid on him, he missed them. It’s complicated, His therapist had said, leaning forward, But that’s being human, Cass. Human relationships are complicated.

He remembered her. He remembered the woman who’d taken an interest in him, who’d nurtured his natural love and talent of music, who’d suggested he turn his play room into a music room. Who taught him to dance. Who trekked miles into snowy Scotland to ensure he’d be nourished through school. Who held him when he cried. He could remember her heartbeat, flush against his ear, steady and rhythmic…

Cass could almost hear it then and there, echoing in his ears. Wait- no, he could definitely hear a heartbeat. Cass frowned, turning to try and place the scent of the human who approached. When he saw her, Cass turned again, curling over the box slightly, as if trying to hide what he was doing. He reached up, quickly trying to dash away any snotty tears, before clearing his throat and offering the best smile he could manage. “Happy Birthday, Shosh.”

[casshasfangs]

wcu as incorrect quotes

@xiomarawinters

@ftbhedges

@outterridge

@katiethxrne

@the-hobgoblins

@giggle-me-this

@fu-imrhett

@linden-flint @linnea-quinn @tierney-smudgling

[casshasfangs]

Got any feeding fantasies?

...

I've always wanted to hunt someone properly. Of course after getting their express consent and everything- but in the moment, that primal hunt, like chasing after them, grabbing them, biting...

[casshasfangs]

How's it feel knowing Sonder moved on so quickly?

I'm so, so happy for Sonny. I didn't hang round Jeremy's crowd a lot at school, but I'm sure he's great.