vampire au where they can only drink the blood type they were before they were turned. other blood has an almost poisonous effect, burning them from within like acid and drinking too much of it can kill them
in the old days, before the knowledge of blood types, it made humans they could feed on absolutely precious. they're kept safe, pampered and doted on; a vampire’s most prized possession
attacking another vampire's human is seen as the highest insult; not only is it a slight against them, it also carries the implication of "i want you to starve"
it's also used as the cruelest of punishments; starving a vampire for months, until they're feral with hunger just for their torturer to throw in a random human, watching them desperately suck down poison, their instincts begging them to keep drinking even as it kills them
ghost is one of the few who survived it; thrown in a pit so deep, he saw stars in the middle of the day, left with nothing but the dried bodies of the humans roba drained without care, others with their throats slit, blood he can't drink spilled out around them
a taunt of the one thing he needs but will never get
but ghost hasn't survived this long just to give up here
he refuses to die in this stinking, rotted pit
ghost is a force of nature as he descends over roba's manor; killing any who wander into his path until the halls run red. until he gets his hands on roba and tells him a secret:
vampires can feed on the blood of any vampire, regardless of blood type
it becomes a legend in vampire high society; if you starve another, you'd best make sure they actually die
otherwise you might end up piled in a dining room, the vampire you left for dead lounging on a throne of corpses with his fangs lodged in your throat
ghost decimates roba's empire, burning it to the ground until no one dares to speak his name in fear of incurring his wrath. it's incredibly taboo for a vampire to feed off another but ghost's too powerful for anyone to challenge him and the other vampires are too scared to try. scared of what he's willing to do, the lengths he'll go to; not that they'll ever admit it
soap is the first human he ever brings to court; delicately bathed in the finest silks and jewels, his throat always bare so he can show off ghost's ownership, his bite framed in lace
he's not like the delicate waifs the other vampires show off; he doesn't cling to his master, demure and submissive. he shows off his teeth as often as any vampire, fully willing to rip out the throats of any who insult him or ghost
a feral master needs a just as feral pet
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Reminder: this is a goofyfun, non-serious poll. If you are genuinely upset at any point, step back. If you are genuinely salty, step back. If you are attacking anyone’s character, we don’t want you here. Yes, even if they’re redditors or twitter users - we’re all the same fandom at the end of the day, people. Go take a drink and a snack and a time-out and come back in ten, yeah?
(And if you are one of those mythical off-site users, welcome! Please, while you’re here, check the propaganda for all the other guys, not just your vote! This is like r/place - there's a lot going on elsewhere on the canvas, so take a look! We hope you stick around!)
For everyone, just remember: the real joy of this event has absolutely nothing to do with who wins. It's all about the narrative we create, the community we're in, and the creativity that we make from it. Just make sure to always keep that in mind!
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🌟 Calling ALL Compassionate Souls! 🌟
PLEASE READ CAREFULLY
In the heart of my local community lies a sanctuary of hope. A haven where lives are transformed and futures are rebuilt. My dear friend's family home, which has been a beacon of kindness and generosity for many (myself included), is in jeopardy. As in it could be lost FOREVER in 1 week! For good! Countless souls of every background have found solace within its walls and were guided back to stability and success. Now it all faces an uncertain fate... unless, we come together to make a difference!
This is not just about saving a house; it's about preserving a legacy of compassion and support. Every dollar donated, every share, every act of kindness WILL make a monumental difference.
We positivity bloggers/tumblrinas know not to underestimate the power of a supportive community!! 😤 We have made literal fucking miracles happen in the past through our unwavering camaraderie and solidarity. I know we can do it again, collectively. Let's band together, once again, virtual hand in virtual hand, to ensure that this sanctuary of hope continues to shine brightly for those in need. Please! People deserve safe spaces... that aren't just virtual.
Please lend your support and spread the word, and together we can make a difference and ensure that this sacred space remains for generations to come.
Mr. Leonard is a talented man. He is a proud native and the modest master of a few trades. He is a carpenter, a painter, a jeweler, an arborist, a plumber and more... He never charges anybody for his work and, you know, if he did- which he wouldn't, then his contributions to local and overarching communities would have earned him a mansion by now. Seriously, maybe two.
He built this home alongside his grandads. His handprints are on the ceiling still. It's a token of his love and the labor he's willing to put into this home. He is a father, a survivor of many things. When his babygirl passed, he gave all her stuffed animals away to people who needed them. He's the kind of man who feeds his dog and neighbor before his skinny self. This man is such a light and I cry so hard typing this, realizing that nobody rly supports him. He doesn't get the support he deserves. He starves to keep the lights on for everybody here and, only if he's lucky, a friend might bring him fast food so that he has more than cereal to work on. Many people take full advantage of a generous soul like his. He knows this, accepts it and that never stops him from doing what's right and needs to be done. He has saved my life and making this post is the least I could do. He's a grown ass adult but even grown ass adults (like me and all my friends still here) need help along the way.
The oldest resident here is a senior transient with no family and no place to go. Just like Mr. Leonard. And I've met young men as young as 18 with no families come to his home for much needed guidance, for protection from the streets. Mr. Leonard has empowered women to escape abusive marriages through the process of divorce. He helped me escape my tormentors. He has my admiration and respect. He has my support.
Please help my friend. I have known him for a few years now, talking nearly daily, minus the times I go on hiatus. Now he's desperately reaching out for our support. Please don't ignore him. He is the type who never asks for anything. Even when he needs to. I... don't even think he's asking for himself... He's probably asking for all the people that he knows depend on this home to still exist. I rly want him to be able to exist in this home for the rest of his life. To him it's still "grandma's home" but to me it is truly all his. He's the one taking care of it. Please believe me, he is worth the time it took for you to read up to this point.
He is human. Worthy of unconditional compassion, respect and support... worthy of a home- like you and I. And he's happily willing to share his gifts with those who need it, which makes him a hero in this community. 🏡💖
ANYTHING HELPS. REBLOG + DONATE.
SPREAD THIS ACROSS PLATFORMS LIKE WILDFIRE. PLEASE.
IT'S FOR A VERY SPECIAL AND VERY IMPORTANT FRIEND! 🫂💕 PLEASE SHOW YOUR SUPPORT. I AM BEGGING PEOPLE TO CARE. MR. LEONARD NEEDS HUMANITY BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.
THANK YOU. STAY SAFE, AND IF YOU CAN'T, BE CAREFUL 🫂
or as Mr. Leonard would always say: "Whatever you do today, do it well. Don't forget to eat today. You're awesome, stay awesome."
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“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.
They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.
Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.
“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”
The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.
The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.
For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.
Shit.
They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…
They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.
It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.
The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.
The hero would be the death of them.
They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.
“What are you doing with this?”
The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.
“Wrapping my hands?”
The villain hissed in a breath.
“With electrical tape?”
The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.
“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”
The villain blinked at them.”
“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.
“Not if you wrap it right.”
Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.
“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.
Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.
“Bandaids move—“
The villain hushed them.
“Be quiet for a second.”
The hero, wisely, went quiet.
The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.
“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.
“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”
“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”
“I’m not destroying myself—“
“You are.”
“Shut up—“
“Hero.”
“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”
They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.
“Better than who?”
“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.
The villain watched them, waiting.
The hero took a shaky breath
“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”
The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.
The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.
“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.
“No. There isn’t.”
“Hero.”
“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.
“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.
“You don’t understand—“
The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.
They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.
“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”
“But I-“
“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”
The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.
The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.
For now, though, they had to take care of hero.
“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”
The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.
“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”
That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.
“Fine.”
The villain turned to them. “Okay?”
Are you going to be alright?
The hero seemed to understand.
“Okay,” the hero agreed.
Yes.
And so, it was.
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