#story for another time but the ppl from THAT house

[fitzrove]

jfkfkdkddk i just realised it's gonna take me a couple months to release my video essay so maybe i'll just blurt out some of my tanz der vampire hot takes now

- ALFRED IS THE MAIN CHARACTER come on you guys,,, you can like and be interested in other characters but it's a problem when the show itself doesn't remember how it was written. The very structure of the show (music, dialogue, plot, scenes) rebels against trying to change this and productions that push him aside just end up jumbled and messy. It's literally a main reason Kunze hated Broadway Tanz

- tied to this, so many people view carpe noctem as this "haha weird random nightmare dance number, guess it was added to pad the runtime" like no... that is literally a way for the show to metaphorically recap and further develop the central themes of the show to the audience at the beginning of act 2... open your eyes...

- I'll take Kunze's "tdv is a musical symbolizing the fall of the berlin wall" (true take of his) over "a longterm relationship with krolock is the ultimate way for sarah to liberate herself" any day. 😭

[hottpinkpenguin]

Letting Someone Go - Part 4

Benny Cross X Female Reader A/n: so incredibly happy by how many ppl are enjoying this series! thank you for supporting me. part 1 is here! part 2 is here! part 3 is here! Word Count: 3569 Warnings: cursing, alcohol and drug use, description of sexual assault **if you want to skip that part, I have highlighted the section to skip in red, so you can still enjoy the story**

Zipco came into the living room with a freshly brewed pot of steaming coffee. Early morning sunlight was streaming through the flimsy curtains he had drawn across the windows that looked out onto the street outside. You were sprawled out across the couch in the same position you’d been in when you landed on it the day before and sunk into a dreamless sleep. There was a blanket slung across your back - courtesy of your host - and a wafer-thin pillow tucked under your chin. You wiped sleep from your eyes and twisted to meet Zipco, who gave you a weary smile. 

“Mornin’,” he muttered as he set down a mug for you and filled it with coffee. You accepted it eagerly, relishing the warmth seeping into your palms. The first sip burned your tongue and the roof of your mouth, but it felt good. Took your mind away from-

“You comin’ today?” Zipco’s question caught you off guard. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him as you forced down another scalding sip of coffee.

“Bonfire.” 

MC tradition after a member died was to get piss drunk in a field somewhere in front of a huge, roaring bonfire, swapping stories and fighting and racing. Yesterday, the Vandals had been on their best behavior for Brucie’s family. Today would be a different story. Charters from all over would be coming in for the bonfire, including some non-Vandal-charters who wanted to pay their respects. That meant riders, old ladies, kids, friends of the club. It was the kind of gathering that MC’s lived for, the stuff of legends. Brucie being right-hand man to Johnny Davis, founding member and president of the original charter of the Vandals, meant that this would be a once-in-a-lifetime gathering. Against yourself, you knew you wouldn’t miss it. You couldn’t. This lifestyle was in your blood. 

You nodded in response to Zipco’s question. “‘Course I am, Zip. Beats sittin’ alone on your shit couch, at any rate.” 

He caught the tease in your voice and rolled his eyes. “Too early for your smart ass mouth,” he replied as he stalked off towards the back of the house. A few minutes later you heard the sputter of his showerhead, followed by the slam of his bathroom door. 

Alone for the time being, you let your thoughts slide around in your head. You felt ominously still, like the brief hush before a raging storm. Your focus bounced from one thing to the next, like your mind knew that lingering on something too long would bring your fragile composure tumbling down. You sipped your coffee some more and refilled your mug, mulling this surprising emotional state over. You’d expected to be unraveled. Seeing Benny yesterday had certainly started that process, but somewhere between the funeral and crashing on Zipco’s lumpy couch, your passion had been thrown on ice. The emotions were the same - longing, emptiness, uncertainty, humiliation - but they’d lost their intensity. Like a picture that had been drained of its colors until it was almost black and white. 

Zipco’s bathroom door opened, hitting the hallway wall with an angry smack. You turned around to see his large frame disappear into the back bedroom, a dingy towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Shower free?” you called out. He grunted in response, which was as close to civility as you could expect from Zipco before at least 3pm. 

Uncrossing your legs from underneath you, you set your half-full mug on the coffee table and walked off to the bathroom, yearning to wash off the memories of yesterday that clung to you like static. You had an unnerving premonition that you were dancing dangerously close to an edge, and once you tipped over it you had no idea what was below. This bonfire was liable to be an absolute meltdown, full of free booze and bad decisions. Lucky for you, you had the perfect dress. Red and reckless: just like your mood. 

***********************

Benny’s thoughts were sour and getting darker by the moment as he pulled up to the bonfire. Kathy practically leapt off the bike behind him, eager to scurry away from the memory of the fight they’d had earlier that afternoon. Benny didn’t even watch where she went; he swung his long leg over the seat of his Harley, propping up the kickstand and stalked off in the opposite direction. He fumbled with the lighter in his pocket a few times before he gave up, chucking the cigarette hanging from between his lips into the bushes with a curse.

The sky was still stained with sunset, but the woods and fields around the farmhouse where the bonfire was happening were already dark. Fireflies were beginning to dance amongst the shadows. All things considered, a perfect night. And it was pissing Benny off.

Just about everything pissed him off these days. Ever since Brucie got killed, Kathy had been climbing up one side of him and down the other, chirping in his ear day and night about quitting the club, no more riding, me or the club. Benny had never been one for words. How he’d ended up with someone who talked incessantly was beyond him. He’d heard of the idea that opposites attract, but hadn’t anyone ever heard of oil and water? Some elements in nature just weren’t meant to mingle. The longer Benny tried to listen to Kathy, the less he wanted to. He’d heard it all before, and it was never going to change, just like he wasn’t. A war of attrition, he supposed.

And then, there was her. The girl from his past. Strange of her to turn up now, after being gone so long, he thought to himself as he approached the throng of people gathering around the steadily growing fire. He could hear the deep thump of bass emanating from the house, and behind him the soft sound of someone retching against a tree. She’d always had an edge to her, something a little bit dark and a little bit scary, but she’d only gotten harder in the four years since Benny had last seen her. A needle of guilt buried itself deep in his chest as he realized he helped make her that way. He could still see her face the night he’d packed up and left. She’d looked so small, so helpless, sitting there at her kitchen table clinging to that mug like a life vest, begging him with her eyes to say something, say anything. Another prime example of words failing him.  

Benny stopped a few paces back from the crowd and scanned the dancers and the drinkers for Johnny, or Zipco, or Cal, or really anyone he recognized. Hell, he’d settle for Funny Sonny at this point. All he saw was a sea of strangers. Lots of dark eyes, club patches, beer bottles tipped up against lips, unkempt beards and long hair. No friendly faces. No one he wanted to talk to. 

Must be in the house, he decided. The number of people here was putting him on edge. Johnny had said they were expecting a big crowd - massive, really - in Brucie’s honor. But where the hell did all these people come from? Benny didn’t know Brucie’s past before the club, but he doubted that these strangers with dark eyes knew him. They’d gotten wind of a big shindig and decided to hitch a ride for free beer, drunk women, and rabble-rousing. Ticks on the back of Brucie’s memory, sucking the Vandals dry, fucking freeloaders. Benny kicked a few empty bottles in frustration, ignoring a cry of protest from someone as one of the bottles hit them in the ankle. 

He climbed the rickety back steps of the farmhouse, surprising a couple who were pressed up against the peeling paint of the house, half undressed and tangled together. Bonfires like this were usually mayhem, but it was barely dark and Benny could already feel a palpable tension in the crowd. Most of the people he’d seen so far were too drunk and too unfamiliar to make him feel comfortable. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. The kitchen was crowded, so full that Benny couldn’t move without bumping into someone. There was a heavy cloud of smoke in the air - Pall Malls, Marlboros, and a healthy dose of weed - and Benny saw that some of the Milwaukee charter boys were sniffing lines of powder off the counter.  

“Benny!” Wahoo materialized out of the crowd, his eyes glassy and his speech slurred. Benny hadn’t realized how tight his jaw had been until he unclenched it, relieved to see a familiar face. 

Wahoo sidled up to Benny and offered him a half-drunk bottle of Budweiser. “Took ya long enough! We’ve been toastin’ Brucie, you been missin’ it.” Benny smiled as he tried to maneuver Wahoo backwards and out of the kitchen. The smoke and the crowd was grating on his last nerve.

“Wahoo, how you doin’?” he replied softly, his eyes scanning the rest of the house. “You seen Johnny at all?”

“Yea, yea, Johnny’s in there.” Wahoo’s attempt at pointing failed miserably, but Benny caught sight of Zipco and Cal just in time. They were sitting on a couch in another room, laughing and talking gently amongst themselves. Of the people he could see, Benny recognized most everyone in there: Funny Sonny, Greg Tillaman from the Milwaukee Vandals, Cockroach and Corky. Benny squeezed between two backs, muttering apologies as he went. He made a mental note to ask Johnny not to have a ridiculous throwdown like this when his time came. 

He caught sight of Kathy, leaned against a wall with a beer in her hand, talking to Johnny’s wife Becky. Kathy caught Benny’s eyes as he stepped into the room, but she quickly looked away with pursed lips, shifting on her feet as if to angle further away from him. Benny scoffed, his patience paper-thin at this point, as he brought Wahoo’s donated beer to his mouth and gulped down a lukewarm mouthful. 

Distracted, he bumped into something - someone more like. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured automatically before he registered who it was. 

She turned around, fixing him with those big doe eyes. Four years gone by and those eyes still held sway over him. Her eyes had always been the softest part of her, and sometimes Benny saw them in his dreams. But this wasn’t a dream, and those eyes were full of fire. 

“Y/n.” Benny couldn’t remember the last time he’d said her name. Although it still felt good. Natural. He felt his shoulders relax an inch as he caught her eyes and held them.  

It took him a few moments to really take her in, head to toe. He’d seen her yesterday, at the funeral, but she’d been different then. Like a hawk on a wire, all tight and knotted up in that black dress. But tonight, she looked as calm as a millpond, that little wrinkle between her eyebrows smooth as glass. And that dress. Red and tight. She’d always looked good in red, Benny thought. It was the color of her spirit, cinnamon spice and blood and fire. Based on the way every pair of eyes in the room kept darting over to her, Benny knew he wasn’t the only one who was transfixed by that dress. Like a phoenix rising from ashes, she was captivating. And she knew it. 

“‘Ey, there he is!” Grateful for Johnny’s interruption, Benny broke eye contact with her and walked over to his friends who greeted him with a cheer. For the first time since he’d pulled up to this party, Benny’s mood lifted just a bit. 

***********************

“Damn honey, where these Chicago boys been keepin’ you all these years?” 

You were too drunk to figure out which of the three guys you were dancing with made the comment. It was difficult enough to hear over the boom of the bass and the din of the crowd. The beers and shots and joints you’d enjoyed earlier weren’t helping, either. You managed to lift your head and flash a sloppy smile, hoping you’d directed it in roughly the right direction. There were hands roaming over your hips, wrapping around your waist and playing with the creases of your dress. Your body felt loose like cooked noodles, thanks to the vodka, so you just swayed and rocked and let it happen. Nothing you couldn’t handle. 

Where the hell was Zipco? He’d shuffled off a few minutes prior, promising to come back with fresh beer. In the process, he’d left you with… well, whoever these guys were. Johnny was gone too, and Wahoo and Corky. You’d heard them say something about Cockroach, but you hadn’t caught much of it, what with the loud bass and the alcohol. Benny had skittered off shortly after he’d bumped into you - literally - much to your dismay. You’d decided after that, what the hell, drink up. Seeing Benny, being that close to him again, touching him: it had knocked something loose inside you. Instead of how you’d felt yesterday at just seeing him - like you’d been electrocuted by a live wire - tonight you felt like you’d been submerged under water. You were moving too slow to catch him, just like four years ago. So you just gave yourself over to the current. 

You’d lost track of the time a while ago, although you sensed it was late. The crowd had thinned a bit, the less rowdy partygoers calling it a night before the scene turned ugly. You’d already seen two fights, neither one particularly interesting and (thankfully) neither involving the Chicago boys, your boys. You’d had enough to drink to do something reckless - like get yourself into a fistfight - if you saw someone throw a haymaker at Zipco, Cal, Johnny, or any of the other guys. Something primal always came out in people at these types of gatherings. There was mingling and socializing between chapters, but at the end of the night, you looked out for your own. Always. 

“Whaddya say we take this somewhere more private?” Whoever was muttering in your ear smelled like an ashtray and badly needed a shave. His stubble was unpleasantly prickly on the shell of your ear, and when he exhaled against your cheek you could all but taste the pack of cigs he must have chainsmoked tonight. 

“Nah, I’m good here!” you replied, louder than necessary. Your tongue was starting to get tipsy, knocking into your teeth and tripping over the syllables in your words. You giggled at the sound of your own buzz, and a hiccup escaped; you stifled it with the back of your hand. 

Stubble was back, and the hands around your waist were starting to push harder. “C’mon baby. I’ll be good to you.” 

You swatted at his hands. “Just wanna dance!” you insisted. You threw your arms up in the air and let them wave around like seagrass in the tide to emphasize your point. 

The hands remained around your waist and stopped moving. They’d encircled you, you realized. You looked around, shocked to see that you’d drifted way off to one side of the dancefloor, towards the stairs. 

“It’ll be fun.” Stubble was trying to lift you off your feet and get you to climb the stairs, you noticed with a prick of fear. You reached out and grabbed the wall, staunchly planting yourself on the floor. 

“I said no.” 

“Hear that, boys? She said ‘no’.” Sarcasm. A big man with long black hair and a bushy beard that was even longer was suddenly at your shoulder, laughing at you with Stubble. 

“After all that dancing she’s been doin’. All those flirty little glances. All those dirty fuckin’ looks. And that fuckin’ dress.” Someone else was speaking now, someone who’d stepped ahead of you and Stubble and was in the stairwell, looking at you like you were a piece of freshly butchered meat. Who the fuck were these guys anyways? Where was Zipco?

The haze of alcohol and weed was suddenly unwelcome. Somewhere deep inside your mind, there was an alarm bell ringing, but your body was sluggish to respond. You tightened your grip on the wall, willing the faces around you to come into focus.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you spat, hoping you’d sufficiently conveyed your refusal. 

The guy in the stairwell narrowed his eyes and gave you a wolfish grin. You felt Stubble’s arms tighten around you in the same instant that you felt someone grab you under your upper arm. Between the arms at your waist and your armpit, you felt a lurch as they lifted you off your feet. 

“What the fuck?” You kicked out, landing a hit on Stairwell Guy. He barely buckled, that feral expression on his face turning to amusement. 

“We’ll show you what wearing a fuckin’ dress like that gets you.” 

It was at those words that you felt like you’d suddenly woke up. 

NO

You don’t know how many times you screamed it. Clawing at the walls, kicking and flailing and trying to make yourself as dead a weight as possible as three grown men tried to pin you down and lift you up the stairs. There was a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling like a pimple at the top of the stairwell. As that lightbulb grew closer, you felt your panic reach a fever pitch. Two darkened doorways on either side of the lightbulb watched dispassionately as you screeched and shrieked and fought like hell in that stairwell. You called out for someone, anyone, everyone you could think of: Zipco, Johnny, Cal, Wahoo, Cockroach, Sheila, Corky. Benny. 

Their names tore out of your throat like a curse. You hurled it at the men trying to force you into one of those dark rooms at the top of the stairs. You bit on whatever piece of soft flesh you could get to and kicked your legs until you felt your muscles burn and weaken. One of the men had managed to tear your dress at the shoulder, exposing your chest and brazier. You twisted, trying to cover yourself, and collided with a hand as it smacked you clean across the face. Your vision went black momentarily as the pain ripped through you like lightning. You tasted the tangy metal of blood and felt it spill out of your nose. The taste turned your stomach, and you felt dangerously close to vomiting. 

You felt yourself beginning to fade, your strength waning as booze and terror and pain took over. The men were climbing the stairs faster now, and you heard the ominous clink of someone undoing their belt. You salvaged what remained of your energy and devoted it to screaming. Demands, pleas, bargains, curses, but mostly names. The names of your friends, your family. Where were they?!

“Shit, SHIT!” You felt yourself drop like a sack of bricks in the same instant that Stubble took a face full of Zipco’s fist. Close behind him was Johnny, his eyes murderous as he glanced down at you before roaring up the stairs to deal with the other two. You tucked your legs in, hastily pulling your dress down to cover your rump and up to cover your chest. You watched as Zipco kicked Stubble down the stairs, colliding against the wall at the base of the stairwell with a heavy thud. He’d barely come to a halt before Zipco was on him like a beast, fists moving faster than you ever thought possible for the grumpy Latvian. 

Your awareness was fading in and out like a staticky radio station. You heard yourself sobbing and felt yourself wiping the blood off your lips, but you felt detached from your body, as if your mind were floating away and upwards into the quiet of the night sky. You tucked your legs up even tighter, wrapping your arms around your knees and squeezing. Holding yourself together.

A feather light touch on one shoulder caused you to startle so violently you fell down to the step below. Strong hands caught you deftly, arresting your fall further, but then quickly released you. Palms up and backing away, giving you your space. 

“Woah, woah, baby. It’s me, it’s Benny. I got you.” And there he was, blue eyes all swimming with care and concern and gut-wrenching beauty. Your guardian angel.

After the initial surge of adrenaline wore off, you collapsed against him as sobs threatened to shred you from the inside out. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, hesitantly at first, but then firm as you grabbed at his jacket, his shirt, anything you could reach. He let you fall apart a bit, and quietly held you together. The sounds of Johnny and Zipco beating whoever those so-called “guests” were to bloody pulps began to fade, the music began to fade, the sound of your own sobs began to fade. After a while, all you could hear was a heartbeat. 

“You ready to go?” Benny whispered against your temple. You nodded, exhausted. He nodded, standing up and lifting you in his arms without a word, and carried you out of that godforsaken stairwell. You didn’t bother to ask where you were going, you simply let him set you on his bike, wrap your arms around his waist, and ride off into the darkness…

**read chapter 5 (the end!) here

Taglist: @real-lana-del-rey @putherup @dontcrydaddy @gilli-vanilli @faephoria @summer56 @seresinhangmanjake @patrycqv @rose-deathman @bellesdreamyprofile @imusicaddict @bruher @ripvanwinklee @meninecanela @enchantedinfinity @landlockedmermaid77 @nctma15 @hearts444emily @kajasagmo

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Oh Oh what about 'H-how long have you been standing there?' Canon(-adjacent) Hurt/Comfort and Book? this list is actually so interesting there's so many good combinations

Thank you so much, it's been lots of fun seeing which combinations ppl picked and coming up with different story ideas. Hope you enjoy this one. 💖

True love's kiss

Rated: G

Words: 995

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Steve has migraines; Hurt/comfort; Love confessions

Eddie finds out by accident. It's one of the last days of summer, and the air has a sticky heaviness to it. He just wants to pick up some stuff he forgot after last night's campaign. Steve isn’t home, he knows for a fact. So what if he memorized his shift plan? It's perfectly normal, most definitely not a sign of obsession or codependency. 

Anyway, the point is, Steve isn't home, so Eddie doesn't ring, just lets himself in and marches into the living room. And that's where his plans for the afternoon derail. 

Steve is on the sofa in front of the television. Eddie's swoop of surprise is short-lived, however, because he isn't watching a movie or game. 

The tv isn't on at all. The entire house is deadly quiet. The blinds on the windows are drawn and the air conditioning is on, the room dark and cold.

Steve is buried in the pillows. His shoulders are shaking. 

“Stevie?” Eddie blurts. “What happened?” 

“Eddie?” Steve croaks. One eye pokes out from the pillows, bleary and horrified. “I- … H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. He has already bridged the distance and is sinking down on the armrest by Steve’s head.

Steve sees the concern on his face and groans. “I'm fine. It's just … fucking headaches, don't worry.” 

But Eddie does worry. Eddie is freaking out, which is only natural given their shared history. He makes a horrified sound, shooting up to grab the walkie from Steve’s room and call a code red. 

“No, wait,” Steve says, holding him back with one shaky hand to his wrist. “‘s not anything supernatural. I mean they’ve gotten worse, after everything, but that's probably ‘cause I took a few hits too many. I've always had ‘em. Ever since I was a kid.” 

Eddie lets that statement trickle in. 

“Oh,” he then breathes, sitting back down and gesturing at the dark room. “You mean migraines?” 

Steve, who has thrown one arm over his face, peers out at him. 

“How d’you …?” 

Eddie shrugs sheepishly. “My mom used to get them, before …” 

He trails off, lost in the memory, fingers grasping to fiddle with something. He only realizes where they've landed when they start scratching at Steve's scalp, and a noise spills from his chest. Eddie flinches, stomach alive with an entire whirlwind of butterfly wings, and makes to pull back his hand. 

“No,” Steve mumbles. He's pale, but some of the tension has bled from his features. His voice is slurred. “Don't stop. Feels good.” 

And who is Eddie to deny him? 

Nodding, he slides off the armrest to sit more comfortably, pulling Steve’s head into his lap to rub soothing circles into his temples. He only notices the book lying on Steve’s stomach when it gets jostled by the motion and almost tumbles to the floor. 

“Hey, what’s this?” Eddie mutters, flipping it over to inspect the cover. “Fairytales?” 

Steve takes a few moments to reply, and in the low light, Eddie imagines he sees two pink splotches bloom high in his cheekbones. 

“My nanny used to read ‘em to me when I was sick. I was tryna, but … the fuckin’ letters keep moving.” 

“I'll read you one.” 

Another blink of those pretty eyes, pupils fuzzy and unfocused. “Really?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, reveling in the smile he gets when he flips the book open. “Let’s see … Once upon a time, there was a king. He was beautiful and kind and brave, and everybody in the realm loved him dearly. But the king was cursed. He-”

“Wait,” Steve mutters. His lids flutter as he struggles to stay awake. “I don’t- … Which one is this?” 

“My favorite,” Eddie replies. “Now hush, you’re supposed to be resting. Where was I? … The king had been befallen by an evil curse. He couldn’t love himself. He slaughtered many a beast, fought countless battles, hoping to prove his own worth to himself, but nothing lifted the shadow looming over him.” 

Eddie turns a page, crinkling his brow in thought. 

Steve stifles a yawn. His head is getting heavier in Eddie’s lap. “Then what happened?” 

“Patience, I was getting to it,” Eddie scolds. “One day, a new jester arrived at the court. He was skeptical, having heard grand tales of the young king’s beauty and good heart, never quite believing them. Yet, the second he beheld the king with his own eyes, he was enraptured, and he vowed to-”  

“En-whatchered?” 

“Enraptured, Stevie,” Eddie sighs, setting the book aside in favor of combing his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Smitten, enchanted, lovestruck.” 

“Pffff,” Steve makes. “Love at first sight ain't real.” 

Eddie scoffs half-heartedly. “It's a fairytale. It's not supposed to be realistic. And besides, I'm only telling it, not making it up.” 

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. If his eyes were open, he'd be rolling them right now. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Eddie agrees, and losing himself for a moment in the lines and angles of Steve’s face, the feel of his hair between his fingers. 

“How does it end?” 

Eddie blinks. “Huh?” 

“The story, silly,” Steve mutters. “How does the jester save the king?”  

“Who said he does?” 

Steve sighs, satisfied and exhausted. “‘s a fairytale. Gotta have a happy ending.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Fair enough. What d’you think he should do?” 

Steve stays silent for a long moment. Eddie is starting to think he fell asleep when he speaks again, so softly it's nearly lost under the rush of the air conditioning. 

“How ‘bout a kiss?” 

“Ah,” Eddie says around the lump forming in his throat. “Good one. Can't go wrong with true love's kiss.” 

Steve hums in agreement. 

“After the king sleeps, though.” His hand finds Eddie’s, interlacing their fingers. “Waited so long for this. Wanna do it without a headache.” 

Eddie is left in the dark, listening as Steve’s breathing evens out, wondering how much of their conversation he'll recall when he wakes up. 

More celebration ficlets

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Oh god now that toh ends with luz being able to travel between worlds ppl are using that to dunk on amphibia. And now that belos died ppl are using that to dunk on su.

They are different shows people! They have different themes! Amphibia is a classic take on isekai as escapism! Marcy went to amphibia to avoid her real life and while she had fun she didnt mature until after she accepted she needed to embrace change in her life! Anne matured in amphibia bc she always recognized that she has her own life to get back to! Sasha matured after realizing that too! Leaving amphibia for good means to embrace the step out of childhood! Something thats inevitable for everyone!

The owl house is about finding a community in midst of ostracization! Luz stayed in the boiling isles because she found people who accepted her quirks! The boiling isles was in danger from a bigot and luz helps her new community defeat him! Its a very queer story! Community is the center of the story so it makes sense for luz to be able to go back to the boiling isles since shes maintaining her place in the community!

Steven universe is about choosing to be kind! Its that everyone has their own specific traumas that they can overcome with the right support! Its about surviving in a world of bigots at any cost, even if it you have to work with the bigots to carve out a space for the people you love! Because people like you exist and theres nothing anyone in power can do about it! Its also a very queer story! The diamonds can never stamp out the off colors because they will always be there! Steven works with the diamonds not because he likes them but because they can improve the world for his family if only he could get through to them! Hes rewarded for choosing to be kind with success because the theme of the show is hope! Hope that anyone can change! But even though the diamonds stop being fascist steven still doesnt like them because its not about forgiveness! Its about fixing things! Stevens just polite about it!

The owl house starts off with the assumption that everyone can change but its not about the potential its about the willingness to change! The focus is on belos, whos had every chance to turn his life around but will never admit that hes wrong! And the show posits that if someone isnt willing to change theyre not worth helping! Its not about whether or not the character is fascist its about if theyre willing to stop being fascist! Several characters stop being fascist and are welcomed by the characters with open arms belos just wasnt one of them! Several characters clean up their acts but dont adequately address the previous harm they did and are STILL fully forgiven eventually! For toh forgiveness is paired with fixing things you just need to give it time!

And theres an argument that some of these shows didnt do their themes well. If you wanted to portray amphibia as an escapism world that the girls need to leave behind to get to their richer futures then having them get such caring found families go against that by giving them a potential of a good life in the isekai world. Steven universe uses the diamonds as metaphors for mental illness and relationships but its hard to stick with that when you also need to consider the countless other gems they hurt. I think its also fair if people prefer one theme over another.

But a lot of stuff i see comparing these shows just go over surface similarities? Like oh shit! These two shows have the same character archetypes! They have the same inciting incident! This must mean that theyre exactly the same in everything but names and artstyle and are trying to say the exact same things! Like. No. Sometimes,,,,,two stories,,,,,,can talk about two different things,,,,,,,

[hopelessromanticwh0re]

You can stay <3

When the rain was pouring down, the house was warm and cozy, the sky was getting darker, and leaves were gently falling, there was no doubt about where you’d be—curled up on the couch with your Kindle in hand. Fall had officially begun, and with it came one of your favorite activities that you called: "Quiet Kindle Time." On days like this, you’d bundle up in a blanket, settle on the couch with a cup of tea, and lose yourself in your book for hours on end. However, your boyfriend, Soonyoung, often found it hard not to interrupt these quiet moments.

Everyone knew that your relationship with Soonyoung was a classic golden retriever and black cat dynamic. You were quiet, reserved, and enjoyed your own space, while Soonyoung was expressive and loved to be in your space. Most of the time, you could only manage about 35 minutes of quiet before Soonyoung came seeking attention, needing help with something, or just wanting to chat. There was no doubt that you loved Soonyoung, and he loved you, but you both had different ways of showing it. While you weren’t particularly into skinship, Soonyoung was, though he always respected your preferences. Every now and then, you’d initiate some affection, and he absolutely lived for those moments.

This evening, you sat on the couch with your legs crossed, back against the cushions. Soonyoung had been napping in your shared room for the past 10 minutes. Your tea was warm, the rain provided the perfect background noise, and the candle you had recently bought filled the room with the comforting scent of warm apple pie. Your book was getting good, and you found yourself giggling and rolling your eyes at the characters. After reaching a satisfying stopping point, you got up, tea in hand, and headed to your bedroom.

There he was, your baby boy, lying at the end of the bed on his stomach. His platinum blonde hair was a little messy, and his cheeks were adorably smooshed with his lips slightly parted. You walked over to him, bending down to leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Gently, you ran your fingers through his hair, detangling it and scratching his scalp lightly. Soonyoung stirred in his sleep, turning his head from the left to the right. You continued to play with his hair until you heard a soft voice say, "Kitten."

You let out a little giggle at the nickname. Soonyoung often insisted on calling you "Kitten" because of your black cat personality, and while you always told him he was being ridiculous, you secretly didn’t mind it. "Hi, Soonyoungie," you said, smiling. He began to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You climbed on to the bed sitting beside him. You couldn’t help but chuckle at your boyfriend’s sleepy expression. Noticing dried slobber at the corners of his mouth, you lightly wet your thumb and wiped it away.

"You had a little slobber, baby," you said, still smiling at your mess of a boy. He smiled back, seizing the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his head into your neck. For once, in your entire three-year relationship, you didn’t feel like pushing Soonyoung away. In fact, you wanted to cuddle him. You enjoyed the warmth of his body and the comforting scent of his natural musk.

"Are you going to shove me off now?" he asked with a little laugh.

"No, you can stay," you replied, bluntly.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, still keeping his head nestled against your neck.

"I’m sure, baby."

With that, Soonyoung held you even tighter and began planting a series of soft kisses all over your face.

--------------------------------------------------------

omgg, I seen that ppl actually kinda liked my last story so I wanted to make another one. I changed it up this time, I wrote for Hoshi and used a diff character who is rly the opposite of Cupcake!reader. So I hope you guys like this one. Also like lmk if I should continue to use Cupcake!reader or not or if I should like keep trying something different pretty pls lmk. love ya 💗!!

[s6lars]

happy bday bb!!!! i missed you so much i’m so happy i found your account! do you think you could just do a headcanon of how pedri is as a bf! it’s up to you if you want to include smut

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri as a boyfriend …

contains smut, minors dni.

— the meeting.

he was back home in the canaries and met you a house party one of his mates had hosted

it honestly was just an instant connection

he had gone around talking to different ppl throughout the night but the second he started talking to you …

you were the last person he spoke to. bcs he would not speak w anyone else

but after that it was mostly silence, and he was sad bcs he rlly wanted to get closer

when he was back in barcelona, he found out you lived there too

and after some time and a million encouragements from fer

he had the courage to formally ask you out and you two hit it off not long after that

basically, a he fell first & he fell harder moment 🫶🏼

— dating life.

this man is so gentle with you. just so soft spoken, so attentive, so caring

and let’s not forget how clingy he is

you could be doing anything — chores, just scrolling through your phone and he’ll sneak up behind you and bury his face in the crook of your neck

and he wouldn’t say a single word. just dead silent

but that means all he wants is cuddles and you’re more than happy to oblige !

lets you go in his closet and steals whatever you want. genuinely half your closet is just his hoodies and t-shirts now

speaking of his closet, when you first got your hands on it, you were appalled to say the least. but you’ve since gotten it under control and no more ripped skinny jeans it is

in my eyes, pedri’s love language is quality times.

so when he has the time, it’s date night almost every single week ! renting out literally the whole restaurant so it’s more intimate and romantic

when he’s a bit busier, he does it in other ways

he’ll hire a private chef fer to his house, decorate the dining room with flowers

speaking of …

gifts. always. constantly. and spontaneously!

he’ll ask you what you want for your birthday, or christmas, etc — and you always say you don’t want anything. but then a few days later, you’ll get texts like: “gold or silver?” “what size shoe are you?” “do you like clutches or purses more?”

he’s a simple guy, he’s not flashy, and unless it’s for a new phone or a new car he hates splurging. but when it’s with you, then it’s a whole other story.

loveeees showing you off to his family and friends

he’ll run late to lunch with his friends and say something like, “sorry, my girl was too clingy this morning.”

and they’ll all be fake disgusted but he loves it

oh and about pet names

mi mujer — my woman, when addressing you, it’s his go-to.

and bebé for when he’s speaking to you directly

— the launch.

pedri is famous, which means one way or another, the public will have to know about you guys.

pedri is generally a private guy so i think he’ll let it out slowly

which means … soft launch !

it starts with a goal dedication, he makes your initial with his hands and blows a kiss to the camera

and ppl are instantly like whoa. who was that for

and then it picks up

he posts holiday pics and there’s little bits and pieces of you in them

your hair creeping in a mirror selfie, your manicured hands on a steering wheel, your reflection off of a mirror in a restaurant

and now it gets real serious

fans catch him with a girl as his wallpaper but your face is covered by his hand holding the phone

the bomb drops when he posts a pic on his story. it’s a mirror selfie, you’re both dressed up, and you’re the one taking it. he’s standing behind you, one hand across your abdomen.

both your faces are cropped out. still, ppl are like yeah, he has a girl it’s confirmed

finally, he post a whole dump for you, probably for something special like your birthday and he lets the world know he’s yours !

— the spice.

remember when i said pedri was very gentle earlier?

well he can definitely pull a 180 in bed

i see him as more of a switch, and it depends on his mood

at the start of the relationship, when you were navigating what you both enjoyed in bed, you had to guide him a lot

and that’s when you found out he loves being praised, and asking you to praise him

“does that feel good?” “fuck, right there, yeah?” “like this?”

and when he’s not in control he doesn’t shy away from letting you know how good you’re making him feel, always in your ear

ok but let’s get into how he is when he’s in control

generally at first your sex was pretty vanilla, but you were so tired from work one day and just needed to let it all out

and pedri delivered — he had you bent over the couch, and when you thought you were done, he carried you to his room and made you watch in the mirror as you took him

it was unexpected. but not unwelcome

has a thing for when you tug his hair or leaves scratches on his back. it hurts, but it eggs him on further

and if he's really feeling confident, like if he just won a final or scored an important goal, his stamina is quadrupled. you're not stopping until your legs physically give out

always, always makes sure you get aftercare, even if he can barely stay awake himself

even if it's as simple as just getting you something to drink or standing next to you while you're in the bathroom afterwards, he just wants to let you know that he cares about you

gets super cocky the morning after. especially if he sees you limp a bit

you'll tell him off because you'll have to be at work or smth and he'd sit there with a grin and say, "you were the one who kept begging, harder, please—" (you'd throw a pillow in his face before he could continue)

but it's fine, the morning sex makes up for it ♡

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 2

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

series masterlist | prev part | next part

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 206,311 others

mclaren always wanted to see the paddock in its full glory? go behind the scenes with todays special guest, @/yourusername, as she swaps one paddock for another to see a little of what happens on a race day!

view all 2,472 comments

user3 HELLOOOOO WHAT.

user7 WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

user9 lando needs to stay focused :/

user1 stfu

alex_albon @/yourusername this is betrayal i’m disowning u

yourusername noooo dad pls. i’ll come to williams next💙

user7 y/n calling alex and lily mom & dad… she’s just like us for real

landonorris 🧡

liked by yourusername

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by mclaren, landonorris and 21,305 others

y/nupdates y/n today after the race!!! she was seen leaving with teammates lando norris and oscar piastri, and oscar’s girlfriend lily! thank you @/mclaren for taking care of our girl today🧡

view all 202 comments

user4 prettiest baby in existence she is GLOWING

user6 can’t believe she’s an f1 fan this feels unreal

mclaren it was our honour🧡

meanwhile, in texts ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 128,119 others

yourusername back from my adventures into training. qualifications coming up which means extra work for this little (big) man🫣

view all 3,915 comments

user3 BEANIE BOYYYY🥹

user8 you got this y/n/n!!!!

flo_norris_showjumping best of luck for qualifying, let me know how it goes🩷

user2 carlos in the likes again i’m TELLING YOU lando is talking abt y/n to the grid boys

landonorris he’s kind of cute ig

yourusername DOES THIS MEAN YOU’LL MEET HIM

landonorris @/yourusername literally where did i say this

user4 petition for lando to meet mr. bean

f1updates just posted a status ੈ✩‧₊˚

f1updates asked about his growing friendship with showjumper y/n y/l/n, lando said today that the two are ‘just becoming friends’ and ‘don’t have much time to see each other’ now y/n is back in her home county. but sources close to the two say they’ve been facetiming most nights👀

view all 106 comments

user10 everyone leave them alone and let them have their private lives challenge

user11 good! lando should be staying focused on getting good face results. he can’t afford this right now.

user9 thank you! i’ve been saying this for ages!

user3 jobless ppl in the comments he’s a grown man and they’re just friends anyway

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 226,382 others

landonorris p2 quali in home race, and some great company. what could be better🧡

👤 tagged yourusername, oscarpiastri

view all 10,400 comments

user7 WHAT HAPPENED TO BEING TOO BUSY TO HANG OUT MR. NORRIS?!

carlossainz55 well done brother❤️

user3 CARLANDO🥹🥹🥹

user1 y’all weren’t apart for very long i see👀

user5 OSCAR IS SO CUTEEE😭

yourusername 🧡 can’t wait to watch tomorrow

liked by landonorris

user6 SHES GOING TO THE RACE????

williamsracing just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by alex_albon, yourusername and 52,118 others

williamsracing just call us mr steal your girl👀 @/mclaren

👤tagged yourusername, lilymhe, zoe_albon

view all 2,466 comments

user5 AHAHHA IM HERE FOR MCLAREN VS WILLIAMS

user1 admin i love u so bad rn😭

mclaren @/yourusername how could you?!

yourusername a rock and a hard place…

alex_albon the BETTER team

user4 y/n, lily and zoe all together🥹🥹🥹

landonorris …

user7 OH HES SNDJSJSJS

user9 you deserve better lando!

user1 @/user9 once again, stfu

yourusername answer my text douchebag

yourusername added to their story ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 23,404 others

y/nupdates sending all the luck to @/yourusername and mr. bean today as they compete in the final qualification around for paris 2024!🩷

view all 233 comments

user2 good luck y/n🥹🫶

user5 eeee today is the day!!!!!

user12 came for lando, stayed for y/n. good luck hon!

yourusername thank you guys🥹🩷 hope i can make you proud

a/n: i realise this wasn’t v interesting but… attempting a slow ish burn bc i love pining

taglist for the next updates can be found here!

- giselle xx

[mysticgalsworld]

swept away pt.2

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on pt 1 !! i’m so happy to continue this story for all you lovely ppl.. also just a reminder i take requests !! (special shoutout to angelikaschischi for requesting this specifically 😋) anyways pls enjoy lovelies 💕

pairing: hugh jackman x cleaning lady f! reader

summary: after getting a job at a cleaning company as a maid, you’re surprised to find out that the house you’re cleaning for belongs to the Hugh Jackman..

content warnings: fluff, angst, f! reader, maternal role, cursing, hospital, mental illness, power imbalance, slow burn?, not spellchecked

parts: 1, 2

The car ride to the small headquarters of Pristine Cleaning Co. was long. Your knuckles grip the steering wheel tensely, white emerging from the force of your grip.

“I don’t want to accuse you, but what am I suppose to think?” His vicious words cut back into your memory and your foot presses on the gas to go faster.

The squeak of a giggle behind you rings in your ears as you look behind you. The small toddler grabs her own foot in the carrier. Looking at her, you sigh, allowing the tension from your body to exit.

The roundness of her cheeks distract you from your memories and force you to look at her from the rear view mirror. Her finger comes out suddenly with a small whine as she points to the busted radio.

“The radio?” you ask her, not expecting an understandable response. You press the knob, waiting a bit before a slight sound comes out. It’s scratchy and distorted, but after harshly smacking the top of the dashboard, it clears up.

Alicia Keys’ voice comes out slightly muffled, but to the gummy grin of the toddler behind you, she doesn’t seem to mind.

You closed the banged up door of the old sedan before opening the back and grabbing the baby carrier. Slamming the door, you make your way into the modern building of the Pristine Cleaning Co.

Even though you would rather chop your head off than take another step, you continue. Adjusting your attire, you knock on the small office door and wait. The silence on the other side is as unnerving as the first time you did your interview, but you stand taller.

“Come in.” a smooth voice answers from the other side. Picking up the carrier from the floor, you push open the door slowly before putting on a trepidatious smile on your face.

The woman’s eyes flicker up to you from her paper calendar. She adjusts her framed black glasses before looking down at the carrier and back to your face. “Y/N. Have a seat.”

With her tone, you have to force the saliva to not gulp down your throat as you sit. Thankfully the toddler is too entranced with grasping at the bows in her hair to make any noise.

The room is almost completely silent, saving for the heavy breathing from the child, the automated air conditioning blowing softly into the office, and the heavy sound of keys clicking as she continues to type.

To save you both from the awkwardness of the half-silent room, you speak. “Miss Wong. I was wondering if you have considered finding a replacement for Mr. Jackman’s house?”

She starts, pausing to look thoughtfully at you, resting her manicured fingers on the desk in front of her.

“Mr. Jackman?” Her voice is boarder line sharp as she asks the question. Shit. You were supposed to be “silent, thorough, and unnoticeable” not aware of the residents who lived there.

You swallow softly before meeting her eyes. “I saw a picture on the dresser. So I assumed..” Her eyebrows raise before she sighs, a sound so strangely unlike her you almost shiver.

“Your job is to clean, not to assume. But we have attempted to find a replacement cleaner for his house, yes.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly, hands making slight fists under the table as you process her vague sentence. You nervously glance up at her, urging your voice to exude professionalism.

“Attempted? After my last cleaning I had hoped to switch his house for the one near Rosemount Grove..”

Miss Wong nods, acknowledging your words. Her gaze remains fixated on you, expression unreadable. The silence stretches on for a few more seconds before she finally responds.

“Yes, attempted. Unfortunately, we have been unsuccessful in finding a replacement cleaner. All our other cleaners at this moment have their hands full with their assigned clients.”

She leans back in her chair, her manicured fingers drumming lightly on the stack of papers in her desk.

“I’m afraid I can’t reassign you, Y/N. It’s either this house or nothing.”

Your hands begin to sweat against your pants as you look at the toddler, now completely passed out. Your voice comes out soft as your gaze is stuck to the sleeping toddler.

“I suppose you’ll call him?” With a wavering voice you think of how much this job means. Without it, you don’t know where you would be.

Pushing up her thick framed glasses, Miss Wong continues to type. She watches silently as you look down at the sleeping toddler, a flicker of understanding passing through her usually stoic expression. She nods slightly, acknowledging your statement and the implications it holds.

“I’ll call him,” she confirms, her voice as poised as ever. “But Y/N?”

Your eyes flash to her, searching for a hint of her next words, but her gaze is already back to the computer screen. Professionalism oozing from her tone, she tries to hide her concern. “The kid won’t be a problem, will it?”

Rapidly shaking your head, you wonder if she even sees it from her typing. “No, Valerie stays with my parents during the cleanings. Not an issue at all..”

She nods imperceptibly, her head barely moving. You move to stand, grabbing carrier from beside you. “Thanks Miss Wong, have a nice day.” She glances at you once more, her eyes drifting back down to the carrier before you exit, but saying nothing.

Once in your car, you try to start it. The engine stalls slightly but you try again, making a mental note to get it checked out. The car starts with a low stammer and you finally leave.

When you enter the familiar open house, your breath catches in your throat. Opening the door with your key, you beg to some higher power that he sent the company the correct days he wouldn’t be here.

Wiping your sweaty hand on the thighs of your worn jeans, you start. As it was before, you start with the kitchen. Then you go to the living room, basking in the peaceful silence surrounding the house.

The creak of the front door knocks you out from your trance while dusting. Heavy steps enter the home and as you turn to look, you see the man you were hoping to avoid.

Hugh Jackman’s tall, muscular figure steps through the front door, filling up the space with his mere presence. His eyes scan the living room, taking in your figure as you stand frozen in the middle of dusting.

At first, his expression is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and slight regret. But then it softens slightly as his gaze roams over you, noticing how skittish you seem at his unexpected entrance.

“Oh, hello...” His voice is gravelly, and his steps slower as he moves further into the room.

You nod in response to his greeting, you face no longer cracking professional smiles when you see him.

To you, his face is a reminder of those fucking words. “I don’t want to accuse you, but what am I suppose to think?” Because that’s all he thought you were. A thief. A criminal.

The words replay in your brain. They taunt you. In the morning, in the silence of a car ride, in your nightmares.

Turning away, you continue to dust. Hoping that your brushing him off would’ve given him the hint, you are surprised to hear his weight shift as he continues to stand in front of the door.

Now you drop the duster, going to pick up the vacuum. In your peripheral you can see his mouth open to speak, regret so clear on his face. But instead of listening, you crank the vacuum to the highest setting and hope he gets the hint.

He pauses for a moment, watching your dismissive behavior with a mixture of guilt and frustration on his face. Realizing you were purposefully avoiding his attempts to talk, his brow furrows and his tone sharpens slightly.

“Y/N. I need to talk to you.” His tone seems regretful as he slightly raises his voice to talk over the vacuum. You see him out of your peripheral, hands on his hips as he stands there in his sweaty workout clothes.

Instead of acknowledging him, you turn with the vacuum, pretending to not have heard him.

Seeing you ignore him makes him breathe out a heavy sigh before placing a hand over his face in frustration. “Y/N, please! I need to apologize…”

Lowering the vacuum, you turn to him absentmindedly. “I’m not supposed to talk to you…” you respond, devoid of any warmth.

His frown deepens at your words, his shoulders sagging slightly in disappointment. “I know that. But I need to talk to you…”

Turning off the vacuum abruptly, a sudden silence engulfs the room. You turn to him with your arms crossed. You raise your eyebrows with calm anger, hoping to urge him on.

He swallows, his accent sounding gravelly with his low tone. “I’m sorry.”

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, you almost laugh. The two words you dreamed about hearing finally coming out of his mouth and they don’t feel like enough.

Instead of responding you grab a cloth, starting to wipe down the coffee table. Behind you, he clears his throat. “Y/N.”

You turn to him, the dirty cloth still in your hand. With a tone oozing professional indifference, you start. “I have nothing to say sir. Please let me finish my job and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“I can’t. I need you to know how sorry I am. I really messed up and I apologize.” He starts to pace slowly, the scene strangely mirroring the situation he was apologizing for.

He continues, his voice rising slightly in regret. “I mean—the second you found the watch behind the dresser I felt like an fucking idiot.”

You giggle slightly at he starts to ramble out his apology. Suddenly your old phone starts to ring. Shit. You keep it on silent and only emergency calls actually ring.

You mumble a quick sorry to him before picking up. Glancing down rapidly at your phone, you answer. Hugh sees this and stops, wondering why you looked stressed as you answer the phone.

Your brows furrow as the person on the phone speaks. “What? Is she okay?” Breathing more heavily, you listen to the other side. “The hospital!” Your voice raises before you mumble a quiet “fuck” under your breath.

Ending the call with a “I’ll be right there,” you rush to pack up your things, leaving a very confused Hugh.

When you say “the hospital” Hugh’s heart drops for you. A sense of dread fills him when he sees you pack your things with panicked movements.

“What’s going on?” His voice exudes authority as he commands an explanation. Your head already feels like it’s about to explode and trying to explain the situation to him may make your head literally melt off. With a rushed sigh, you brush your messy hair off of your forehead. “I’m sorry sir, I have to go to the hospital. So I can’t finish the cleaning today.”

Hugh watches your stressed mannerisms, his mind racing with unanswered questions. He feels a pang of concern, and his brows furrow as he looks at you.

"Ok that’s completely fine.” With that, you nod and head towards the front door with a jog. Once outside you run to your old, beat-up car. Unbeknownst to you, Hugh stands in the front doorway, watching as you rush to leave.

Turning the key, you pray to any higher power that your car starts. It spudders with a low dying sound and you could almost laugh. Of course this happens at the worst possible fucking time. You try again, getting the same result and sighing.

In frustration, you bang your head against the steering wheel, tears fighting to fall. A hard knock against the window startles you as you look up. Hugh stares with furrowed brows as you open the car door. “Need a ride?” His smooth voice almost acts like a buey in this moment.

“Please…” You hurriedly follow him to his silver Audi Q7. Not used to the luxury car, you hesitate but think back to why you need to ride with him in the first place. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Which hospital?” Your breath catches as you think, “Uh—Rosemount Community Hospital.” With a nod he drives, a solemn expression on his face.

The drive was silent. As soon as the car came to a stop, you hopped out. Rushing through the glass doors of the community hospital, you ask the lady at the front desk for the room number.

Hugh follows, not wanting to leave you here at the hospital alone. He knows he hates the smell of hospitals, the place where death and life meet, and wonders what you think. Do you like hospitals? Do you find them comforting? Or a bad omen?

Following you to the room, he can’t hide his surprise when you open the door to a small toddler sitting with an older woman.

“Valerie…” Your voice whispers softly and you go to cradle the toddler who now has a bright green cast on her tiny leg. You turn to the older woman, your expression becoming venomous as you grit out,“What happened?”

The older woman splutters in surprise at your tone before crossing her arms. “I was making lunch. She wanted to sit on the counter so I let her, but she started to climb. I turned around for one second—once second and she fell…”

Your face reddens as you breathe deeply. Your normal calm anger transpiring into a red-hot fit of rage. Hugh, still stuck in a state of confusion and shock from seeing the toddler, glances curiously at your expression. “Mom, you can’t do that. She’s a baby, she can’t even walk yet… She shouldn’t even be on the counter in the first place.” With a sigh, you put a hard on your tired face while picking up the giggly toddler.

“Just—can you get the doctor please, Mom?” You sit with Valerie in your arms, watching as your mom leaves the room. Almost disassociating, you stare at the stark white tile before Hugh speaks up.

“Is that your daughter?” His voice seems curious and a little shaken. You aren’t really old, maybe mid 20s. Clearing your throat slightly, you still hold your gaze to the tile. “No.. she’s my little sister. My mom has early onset Alzheimer’s and usually my dad is there to help take care of her.”

Hugh feels his heart drop slightly at your response, a pang of sympathy filling him as he to you. His eyes flicker to the little girl sitting snugly on your lap, who is still giggling obliviously.

Nodding slowly, he takes in the weight of your words before speaking quietly. “I'm sorry about your mom—that’s horrible. And your dad?"

You shrug your shoulders casually, your expression blank and disappointed. Valerie brings you out of your the thoughts, her small hand getting stuck in the bottom of your hair. With a smile, you glance to her face. Chubby cheeks, stubby baby teeth, and the soft tufts of her hair remind you of who you’re doing this for.

Clearing your throat, you look to Hugh, who’s now standing in the corner. “Thank you…” Your voice comes out in a whisper, almost as if you are afraid to say them louder.

His eyes widen for a moment, his heart clenching at the almost timid tone in your voice. He swallows deeply, feeling his throat grow dry as he responds.

"Don't mention it..."

You laugh softly as you think of your piece of crap car sitting dead in the front of his nice house. With a small sigh, you realize having to get it fixed will eat into your already minimal savings.

Pulling out your phone, you call a tow truck company to pick up the car and take it to the shop. Hugh just watches as you do this, a little confused because he was more than willing to do it for you. While you’re on the phone, your mom comes back with the doctor in tow.

Immediately, you end the call and give your attention to the doctor as he explains that Valerie’s leg is broken, but will heal nicely after a couple months. You breathe out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding and thank the doctor for his time.

Turning to Hugh, your voice comes out strong. “Thank you, Mr. Jackman. For everything… I’ll see you next week.” You almost miss the slight frown at your professional use of his name, but you don’t. Turning to walk out of the room with Valerie in your arms and your mom on your heels, you give him one last smile as you go.

The next week goes smoothly. Continuing your routine, you start with the kitchen. As you start to organize the refrigerator, you hear the heavy steps of Hugh entering. Instead of his normal sweaty workout clothes, you’re almost surprised to see him in comfy clothes.

He gives you a smile before continuing to the coffee machine. Without turning around, his voice rings out above the soft hum of your music. “Coffee?”

Instead of answering, you walk to the cupboard and pull out two mugs. He watches as you place them next to the machine, a small smile on your face. The hint of domesticity from making coffee shocks both of you, so you retreat back to the fridge.

He pours the coffee and approaches you at the fridge with both cups in his hands. Your pinky brushes against his as you grasp the ceramic mug. A buzz of electricity shoots through your arm as you revel in the warmth of it. In a daze, you whisper a thank you before picking out the creamer and offering it to him. He takes it with a smile, happy that you are no longer ignoring him.

Taking a sip, you bask in the rich taste before Hugh’s voice pulls you out of your focus. “How’s Valerie?” Almost completely forgetting that he was at the hospital with you, you clear your throat surprised. You don’t know what surprises you more, the fact that he remembers her name or actually cares about how she’s doing.

“She’s fine—finally getting use to the cast.” I take another sip of my coffee, choosing to keep my gaze on the island between us. He nods in my peripheral, his voice coming out to give a small “That’s good.”

The silence is somewhat awkward and somewhat comfortable, but he decides to break it. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never accused you.”

Nodding, you take in his words. You focus on the deep rumble of regret in his voice, the emotion of it making his accent come out stronger. “I’m not a thief. I just—I can’t lose this job.” Your voice comes out almost desperate. You could curse at the small wobble that comes out as you bite through the words. Afraid to look him in the eye after your words, you set the mug down and go back to reorganizing the fridge.

You can feel his eyes stuck on you, the feeling of it curious and prodding. You continue, picking up the condiments and reorganizing them.

“My father gave me that watch.” The words are so sudden and soft, it shocks you. Your shoulders deflate as you unravel the tension from your earlier words. You turn slowly, mouth open to say something but he stops you. “—That’s why I was so upset… He passed a couple years ago and I wear that watch to—uh remember him, I guess.”

The soft and somewhat solemn expression on his face takes you off guard. Even though he is looking down at the counter in remembrance, you almost feel like the atmosphere is staring down into your soul.

“Mr. Jackman…” you start. He interrupts, holding up a hand, “—Hugh, please.” Nodding, you play with the handle of your mug as you watch him. “Hugh, I’m so sorry.. I shouldn’t have been so defensive and—”

Your mouth opens to explain more, your fear and hatred of people not treating you as a human with thoughts, maybe even your fear of losing this job, but he stops you. He stops you from your unnecessary groveling. “None of it was your fault. I was just stressed and upset and I took it out on you… I’m the one who’s sorry…”

With a nod and a small smile, you listen. Really listen—to everything; his voice, his words, and the soft gravel of his accent. “It’s okay…” With a nod and soft smile, toeing the boarder of friendship, you turn and go back to the fridge.

The following week, the smiles only grow. Instead of telling your company the dates he won’t be there, it seems that every time you come to clean he “accidentally” keeps running into you. When you are cleaning the kitchen, he decides that is the perfect time to have his midafternoon cup of coffee. Or when you’re cleaning his bedroom, he needs to grab things that he coincidentally forgets to bring downstairs.

And the notes reappear too. Silly doodles with swirls and faces conjoined with encouraging notes of admiration. And every time, they make your day. Even when your morning has taken a turn for the worse.

Like this morning Valerie decided now was the time to try to take her cast off by herself. You sigh exhausted as you remember the wails and cries of pain from the itching she had under the cast this morning.

Even with your face and body exhausted, the neon brightness of a colored note sticking to the TV screen brings a soft smile to your face. You pull it softly off the dark screen and pull it closer to your tired eyes to read.

“Coffee?” It’s covered in zigzags, smiley faces, and a badly-drawn cup of coffee, but yet you still feel your feet pulling to the kitchen.

Moving to the kitchen, you are shocked to see Hugh sitting at the countertop with a puzzle, a steaming cup of coffee in his own hand and another in the seat beside him. With a tired smile you greet him, a casual “Hey Hugh” coming from your lips.

He glances up from the puzzle, a pair of reading glasses and a concentrated smile on his face. For a second you glance down to his lips, drawn in a concentrated pout from the puzzle. But still he greets you warmly, the pout disappearing in an instant, replaced with a warm smile.

You take the counter seat next to him, sipping your coffee and watching as he continues his puzzle. Small conversation flows easily, you focused on the coffee and him on the puzzle.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he focuses on his next question. “And Valerie? How’s her leg?” Your shoulders sag as you sigh with exhaustion. “She wasn’t doing too well this morning, her leg itches a lot but she can’t verbalize it yet so I basically just have to guess.”

Hugh nods, his lips pursing together as he thinks. “God, that sounds tiring. I know when my kids were younger it helped if I distracted them with things they liked.” He shrugs casually as he suggests for you to try it. You nod, taking in the information before taking another sip of your coffee.

Raising the mug to your lips, a piece of the puzzle stands out to you from your peripheral vision. Timidly, you slide the piece over to him, noticing it’s the one he’s missing. The appreciative smile he gives you could light up a room as he slides the puzzle to fit in between you both.

Knowing that you company wouldn’t approve, you have so many things that need to be done, and are a complete hot mess, you work on the puzzle with him.

You find it peaceful. Another taste of the domesticity you could have if you just let yourself be swept away.

a/n: hey lovelies !! as always, let me know what you think and whether or not you want me to continue with a part three.. i’m hoping to update a least once a week, but sometimes it may be more or it may be less (also pls lmk if you have any requests) anyways, love you guys 💕

[chosos-mascara]

red, blood

𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - bitten by a stranger, you notice an extreme aversion to food - instead craving one substance above all. moments from taking a life, choso brings you back to normalcy; with only one issue. it's choso's blood that you crave.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - vampire!choso, (new)vampire!reader, blood drinking, mentions of death, smut, biting, blood, blood again because there's so much blood described in this fic, scratching, strangers to ?, cowgirl, sex in a forest, creampies, cunnilingus, attacking ppl for food lol, instruction.

10.8k words

You'd heard rumors of the old house on the hill. Some had stated the lot had been vacant for years, others that it had been haunted - though one questionable rumor in particular had sparked interest more than others. When Nobara would voice her theories of vampires hiding within the four tall walls, interesting and ancient beings derived from demons, your blood would run cold and skin prickle with exhilaration. She'd bring her stories forward as if truth; tales of cursed creatures surviving on the blood of humans, told with enough vivid detail to convince you Nobara had experienced said adventures herself. Though, the excitement had fizzled out when bringing the question to your mother, her excuse for the house on the hill much less interesting. Apartments. 

As adulthood had taken over, a mundane life following your mother's footsteps, you'd rarely questioned what had been so intriguing to you as a child. Maybe when driving back into town and passing by the outskirts, the house on the hill would catch your eye, but you'd never lingered upon it for more than a few moments. Caught in thought or attention diverted to the road, what had once been a mystery filled with child-like wonder had now died out. Your imagination had simply matured, like the rest of your dreams. 

As the chief of police's daughter, it had felt natural for you to move into the same profession. Your mother raising you as a single parent, tired days turned longer after she'd been called in only minutes after returning home, promises of vacations that had instead consisted of watching her work at the station, a career within the place you'd spent half of your life within had always been how you'd pictured your life progressing.

Of course, it had been that your first solo dispatch as a qualified officer had been to the woodland outside of town, connecting to the same dingy road the old house had bordered. A concerned resident had made several calls regarding screams within the woods, and you were to take a statement. 

Back slouching against the drivers seat, you took a breath. There had been a racing in your chest, nervousness for your first case to begin; your first public interaction. Perhaps somewhere within the anxiousness had been excitement, though looking through the windshield to the fog ridden forest around you, you weren't so sure. Trees stood tall, dirt path winding until reaching the base of the grassy hill. When peering upward, you could make out a faint outline of the house, a reminder to childhood conversations between yourself and friends. If only life could've remained so full of thrill.  

Once stepping from the ranger, you brushed creases from your uniform and, with a sigh, slammed the door closed. The residence you'd been called to hadn't looked well-kept, ivy taking over decaying brickwork, windows dirty. When approaching, you'd almost tripped over an exposed root from thick bush, standing as yet another reminder this home hadn't been in good shape. Before raising fist to knock, you straightened the badge on your belt, fingers grazing over the new metallic front. As your fist hit the door it had rattled, and you'd been left to notice rot within the bowed wood, oak splintering and stained. The longer you'd stood, the less driven you'd been to stay, an uneasy feeling settling in your gut. 

Though, you hadn't time to bail as the door creaked open, revealing an older gentleman hunched forward, his weight distributed between both handle and cane. His narrow eyes met yours as he questioned your presence, an apprehensive smile spreading over your lips for good measure. "Are you Fujita-san? We received a call from you regarding noise in the neighborhood." The term 'neighborhood' had been used loosely as you stood at the only house within a half-mile radius. "Come in." The cane caused a harsh bang on the hardwood floor as he shuffled backward, stopping sooner than you'd anticipated to leave a gap you'd been barely sure you would fit through. Such a confident smile had faltered when slipping between door and frame as your arm brushed over the cotton sleeve of his bath-robe.

When navigating past him, looking for a clear route to lounge or seating area, regret had pooled in your body. The house was suspiciously sparse with no light sources and evidently had not been lived within. It still begged the question of why you'd been called here, and why such an old and practically immobile man had been here to answer the door. 

 You couldn't turn to question him, words taken before formulated as cold fingers wrapped harshly over your hand, arm brought upward and a sharpness in your wrist. Yelling out in pain, you attempted to pull your limb back to safety, head snapping to lock with red eyes. Between his lips and your flesh crimson blood had flowed, staining blue uniformed shirt. No matter the resistance from yourself, the strength of his grasp wouldn't falter. Eventually, after abrasive kicks and punches, you'd knocked into his knees with a harsh stamp, frail bones cracking as he stumbled from your being. With a tug of your forearm, you broke free, quick footsteps through the door to sprint toward your car. As if graced by God, you started the engine and pulled away. 

The drive home had felt dreamlike. Sweat poured from every inch of skin, hands trembling and breaths heavy. The steering wheel had felt slippery, yet you wouldn't look down, overtaken by fear. When navigating through the surrounding country roads and eventually coming back into the city, you'd reassured yourself the liquid coating your hands had been only sweat caused by adrenaline, nothing more. Though when pulling into your drive, mind hazy as the world around you had lagged behind, you dropped your gaze, a panicked gasp when met with the crimson thickness of blood, a thick and bubbling coating of both the car's interior and your uniform. 

You woke in bed, bolting upright. Light shone through white curtains, thin cotton barely acting as a barrier from the rays of sun beyond the windows. A sheen of sweat had coated the gap between your skin and the uniform you'd still worn, the start of a fever prickling over your body only moments after waking. Your head ached, a pounding against skull that had at first felt reminiscent of a hangover, though as seconds passed, it had intensified beyond that.

A mere text to explain your absence at work had been all you'd mustered as you crouched over the toilet bowl, intense flurry of vomiting as you feigned the gap between conscious and unconsciousness. The memory of your evening before had felt hazy, only flashes of the attack within the house, with more questions raised than answered. How had you gotten home? A sudden flash of the sickening sight when parking up had flickered into mind, another retch into porcelain. 

Looking to the wrist that had bled so freely before, a bandage had been wrapped around damp skin. You peeled back the woven white to analyse the wound below - only to find undamaged flesh. A distant buzz in your head, visions of red, crimson, thick liquid originating from multiple branches, pooling into one abundant ocean. The inside of the cloth had been tainted by two distinct dots of red, yet no marks had remained over your wrist. 

Though, your internal interrogation to past self had ceased as another wave of nausea hit, this time the sickness dispelled from your body closely resembling the consistency and colour of the blood coursing through your veins. Weakness had overcome you next, collapsing to rest upon cold bathroom tile. Through a shroud of darkness you'd attempted to call for help, yet all energy had left you.

The headache had lifted. A lack of fatigue, no sweat, no unbearable fever. Had this been a dream? Pushing yourself from the floor, you stood hunch over sink, peering to the mirror hanging at head height. Hair a bird's nest, bags set deep beneath eyes, you'd felt an instinct to shower. A low growling from your stomach while rubbing soap over unclean skin had signaled the second action on your itinerary.

Cereal poured into the bowl, drowning in milk. Something usually enjoyed before work had excited you, eagerly lifting metal spoon to lips and shoveling the first sugary mouthful between your teeth. Only, crunching down on a breakfast favourite had felt agonizing, the usual sweet taste mingling with tones of chocolate now tasting foul, nausea rushing over your body in a cold sweat as you rushed to the kitchen sink. 

Eggs had been the next trial. Fried with salt and pepper dotted across white and yolk, a slice of bread to house a usually adequate food. It had taken only one bite to reach the same effect, heaving into the metal sink. 

Toast, a staple for those suffering from a stomach bug. Only a swipe of butter to prevent the dry grain sticking to the roof of mouth, but not too much as to upset a stomach. Though, perhaps there had been a little too much dairy as you'd vomited once more. An attempt to cleanse your throat with a cool glass of water had resulted in the vacation of your stomach yet again, abs aching as you retched. 

Tears had welled within your eyes as they glossed over bowls of food before you, none of which you'd been able to digest. Another shower, another set of clothes, an hour spent pacing around the kitchen in thought. There had been one simple comfort food you'd yet to try: soup. When ill, that's what most people have, right? 

Emptiness had resided within your stomach as you turned the ignition, hands placed over the wheel - with another confusing installment as you peered down to the interior. Instead of dried blood coating leather, there had been nothing to serve as evidence for the imagery belonging to the evening before.

Pulling away, foot on the gas, you instead tried to focus on what you'd be purchasing at the store. A logical place to start would be canned soup, painkillers, and electrolytes. The fever you'd slowly overcame had taken much from you, so when parking in the lot beside local grocery store you'd reminded yourself to take it easy, to be quick. 

Weak legs carried you to the automatic door, absentmindedly taking a basket to carry on your journey. Though as you'd began to shop, shuffling forward you'd been distracted by a bad scent hanging in the air, a metallic iron piercing through nostrils. Squinting your eyes, you'd attempted to simply concentrate on purchasing the essentials you'd needed, glancing to the first isle. Cracked and aged tile had sat beneath your shoes, bright lights illuminating shelves filled with stock, yet you'd found yourself unable to concentrate on any of the mundane surroundings. 

Basket between weak fingers, you felt uneasy, overwhelming smells, sounds and sensations over skin suddenly heightening, ambient chatter merging into a loud and blaring ringing. With the overstimulating environment your lungs felt squeezed of air, an inability to regulate breaths. Hyperventilating, the metal handle left your grasp, a shift in your insides as the scent that had felt so disgusting only moments prior had now intoxicated you, an all encompassing and primal need to taste - but what exactly, you hadn't been sure. Only when your vision had raised from newly empty hands had you found the source of need.

A younger woman, earbuds within her ears and a furrowed brow as she glanced among the various vegetables shelved before her. As if hunting prey, your line of tight had felt tunneled, heightened senses latched onto her movements. The music blaring into her ears had been tinny and distorted, yet you felt able to make out lyrics even if stood meters away. 

Mouth running dry, a step forward. You ran tongue across teeth, a starling difference within your gums; an ache, canines feeling unfamiliar between lips. Sharp. Within you had been an urge to bite, chew and rip apart thick mounds of flesh, to watch blood pour into the fresh wound, to drink the sweet ambrosia pooling over raw skin. An animal carnage set behind your eyes, the ringing had intensified, throat closing up with shallow breaths, head floating in a haze.

A slow step forward, consumed by untamed yearning for blood, you'd attempted to fight the fearful feeling clouding your mind, a last attempt at humanity as you'd dreaded the action you weren't sure you could take. Surroundings fading away, you'd committed, another step toward her. 

You bumped into a solid mound - a figure standing larger than you; broader. With the lock on your target removed, the predatory hypnosis had lifted, tears blinked back upon registering the measures you'd been about to take, the intention you'd had. If you hadn't been pulled from the fog, the unaware innocent would've fell victim to your teeth sinking into her skin, throat ripping from body.

"Focus on me." A deep reverberance had echoed through your core, a sudden coolness brushing over heated cheeks as he'd laid open palms to burning skin. Through blurred vision, you met eyes to the source of reprieve, deep purple orbs staring back under a furrowed brow, concentration written over his expression as he'd centered himself only on you. There had been a frown set across his lips, beneath a thick black like etched into the middle of his face, curving to the bridge of his nose. Black hair had fallen from his head and framed his profile the upper section partitioned into two loose buns.

"Good girl, that's it. Calm down." The softly spoken voice had ricocheted through your bones once more, a comfort only God himself could have given you, with a desire to obey. Staring into your soul had been a person you hadn't recognized, yet you'd felt your heart had known. Staggered breaths had turned consistent as you'd done as he'd asked, focusing purely on him, gaze locked onto the thick line across his skin.

"We're going to leave." He instructed you, sights dropping to the lips that had formed the words, a small nod as you put your trust into the stranger. "When we start walking, keep your eyes to the floor, and your mouth closed." His hands dropped from your cheeks, leaving skin bare. Only with his touch turning absent had you realized he'd been supporting your head, unexpectedly feeling much heavier without the large embrace.  "Look down, remember?" His reminder had caused you to obey, dropping your head to face the tile, bright overhead lights reflected on the sheen. 

Only when stepping foot outside had you felt yourself relax, fresh air alleviating the hyper stimulation, aiding the unbearable hunger. The sound of birdsong as day turned into evening had soothed overwhelmed ears, muscles relaxing. Once beside an unknown car, the male had halted, gesturing you to climb within the passenger seat. You'd shot him a look of confusion, yet he'd only repeated the action. Uneasiness set in as he opened the door, harsher gaze causing a churning in your stomach.  

You slipped in and he closed the door beside you, walking to the driver's side and slumping into leather. Before questioning you, he let out a sigh, eyes closing and head hitting the headrest behind him. Had you been within a different situation, you'd have admired his profile more, a sharp jawline and pretty hair, tired eyes in need of comfort. 

"Who are you?" He finally broke the silence by asking the first question he'd had when walking by your demonic form, eyes blood red and teeth poking from lip. It had been more than lucky he'd been there to stop you from your urges, and he didn't appreciate the odds. If he hadn't have been in the same store, a massacre would've occurred, an unstoppable force of cursed-being quenching an insatiable thirst. He'd known the loss of control too well, and reaped the consequences. 

Within the car you'd felt at ease from the outside world, from what had felt too fast and jaded to bare. Your lips formed your name, line of sight finally lifting from the dash to console his gaze. Concern had been etched across his features, merging with stress and sympathy. 

"What just happened?" You'd asked, and he'd turned head to glance through the windshield. He scanned over the parking lot, half empty, trees bordering concrete. How couldn't you know about what you were? Had you played dumb to manipulate his support? 

"What do you already know?" His counter-question had confused you, and he'd watched through the corner of his eye as your face contorted to that of uncertainty. "I'll ask this, then - were you bitten?" The words spoken had your eyes widening, lips parting in surprise. You hadn't connected the bite you'd endured to the sudden sickness, but it hadn't been possible he'd passed a disease to you, surely?

Events from those days before had raced through your mind; red eyes, a stinging over your wrist. With a reluctant nod from yourself, fingers ghosting over where the bite had been, you'd added your rejection of this theory. "There's no marks- I don't think he bit me hard enough to pass anything to me." 

He chose to ignore your thought process, a sense of hopelessness to your condition.  "When were you bitten?"  A squirrel had ran across the cement, stopping over a vacant parking space to pick a fallen pine-cone. You watched as your mind raced, a realization that today had felt much further than that evening than you'd thought, how long were you out? What day had it been, now?  "I don't know-" Stuttered words, you searched for the date within your mind, an image of the paperwork, the anxiety of the first solo call-out. "The first. The first of March." 

His expression dropped, jaw opening as he glanced to the digital clock on the dash, red letters stating date, and time.  "At what time?" His tone was quieter as panic set in, fear and sorrow harboring concern.  "I had a call-" Closing your eyes, you pictured the ranger's radio, time on the clock as you'd stepped from the car to forest floor. "I think around three." 

"And you haven't fed?" Disbelief had decorated him; or had it been horror?  "I tried to eat earlier, but I couldn't stomach it." The explanation had him shaking his head, lips pursing and eyes rolling. His hand balled into a fist over his thigh, fabric scrunching to the center as he'd had enough of your logical excuses.  "I'm not talking about that -" He let out a breath, choosing to spit out the fact he'd tried to keep from you. From now, your life would change forever. "Blood. You need blood." The statement had made little sense to you, though. A disapproving scowl shot his way had been ignored through closed lids, rapid thoughts as he'd searched for a fix to the situation. 

"A transfusion? I'm okay, I just had a fever." The brushing off of his concerns had angered him, how had humans been so straight-thinking? A species that he'd lived among, yet fought to understand. "I probably need a vaccination, though. Maybe he did pass something on..." Your voice trailed off in worry. The rational explanations from you had caused uneasiness, another deep exhale as he placed to fingers to temple. 

"Listen," He'd began, pulling your attention to painted nails at the end of pale fingers. "You need to drink, or your body will reject the transformation." Opening his eyes, his hand turned the key, engine humming. "Where do you live?"  "Oh, I can drive, my car's-" Beginning to point toward your own vehicle your words had died off, the dead-pan stare he'd given you instead pushing you to whisper the address with agitated tone.

Alarm bells you were sure should have rung had remained silent as he drove you home, a short journey filled with stillness. One hand over the gearshift, other on the wheel, you'd watched in admiration. The presence from the stranger had been comforting, and when walking to your door, you'd realized how little you wanted him to leave. 

Only when inviting him inside had you asked for his name, a startled drop of expression as a memory had been sparked from childhood. 

"I heard the Kamo family lives there." Nobara leaned forward, marshmallow browning in the fire as she smiled widely, a gap in the top row of teeth. Megumi rolled his eyes, a sigh from parted lips. He'd had one arm crossed over the other, wearing a frown.  "It's just folklore." His attempts to quieten his friend had been redundant as the small girl had a story to tell. When Nobara had her mind set on something, no one could stop her. 

"The Kamos are vampires, my sister told me herself!" The smile turned to scowl as she brought the marshmallow to her face, black charring coating the outside. She'd burned another one.  "What does your sister know about vampires? She's a botanist, not a monster hunter." His pessimism had been ignored as she'd instead turned to you, heartache from the burned sweet forgotten as she grinned to your curious expression. 

"My sister said they've lived in the house on the hill for decades, and they feed off the people in the neighboring houses. That old guy died, didn't you hear? What was his name..." She trailed off in thought, a disapproving sigh from Megumi as he'd added to the story he hadn't wished to be a part of.  "Fujita-san?" The correction had excited Nobara, an enthusiastic nod as she'd taken the queue to continue.  "Yeah, they found him with puncture wounds, but they couldn't do the autopsy because he disappeared from the morgue! My sister said she saw Kamo Choso by the funeral home that night - I think the Kamos took him!"  

She'd watched your guise closely, in need of validation for her story-telling skills, and maturity. You'd glanced to Megumi, his placid countenance revealing little about how he'd felt.  "I'm sure she was just visiting someone, Nobara." 

Now, Choso had stood before you, speaking of drinking, of blood and bites, of information attributed to the folklore an old friend had spoken of. Vampires were beings written into fairy-tales and horror films - things that surely couldn't apply to reality. Had he been insane? You'd watched in silence as he brought his wrist to lips, a crunch and pop of skin pierced, pulling back the wounded appendage to reveal bloodied lips. Crimson coated skin, bubbling at the incision marks. 

"What the fuck-" You'd began to chastise his actions, yet when transferring gaze to gloss over face, you'd been left speechless. His eyes no longer purple, orbs covered in a pitch black, small veins of purple and blue branching from lid to brow and bags beneath. Between his lips, teeth that had resembled more of animal than human. 

The metallic smell had returned. The pulsing within chest and body as your eyes had been drawn away from his and toward the bleeding limb before you, now inches from face. Hand skimming his skin, gaze locked to the dark red, you'd felt transfixed. Hunger and desire had brought you to the point of leaning toward his offering, lips finally locking over the wound, tongue sliding over crimson. 

The thick drink hit your throat, coating you as if honey, soothing a burn you hadn't recognized before now. A hum of pleasure muted to his skin as you took more, a warmth in your stomach, a supple pleasantry you could only imagine had mirrored that of child drinking from mother. Warm, soft, nurturing. 

Time had stilled, but a gentle push of your shoulder had indicated you'd taken enough, breaking you from the trance. Fingers reaching upward, you ghosted the liquid painted over lips and chin, grazing across teeth that hadn't felt much like your own. Choso let out a breath, watching your bewilderment with tired eyes and sincere expression. He'd felt guilt from the twisting in his stomach as you'd breathed heavy sighs of relief, ashamed of the change in his perception of you now you'd taken from him. With his blood over your lips, you'd looked pretty. 

"From now, you'll need blood to survive." He began, looking from you to instead inspect your home, glossing over framed photos in the hall, landing over a small succulent on a shelf. Through one doorway had been a lounge that he'd found himself following you into, taking a seat on the couch. Slumping back, he continued. "I'm not here to tell you what to do, but for the survival of our kind, I recommend drinking from animals. There's plenty of deer in the woodland to pick from, but it should be fresh." 

"Is that what you do?" He'd shifted on the cushions, eyes darting around the new surroundings to avoid your own questioning gaze.  "No. My father sources blood from the local hospital. Animal blood will hinder some ability - though in your case it's a better option." 

Although his flesh had healed, there had been a tightness within your chest when scanning over remnants of dried blood decorating his wrist - bringing back the intimate moment you'd shared.  "Can I... have more?" A sultry request leaving lips before you'd assessed your own questioning, though he'd chalked it down to hunger rather than the chance you had also felt a throb between legs when enjoying his blood. It had been down to the curse that you'd felt this way, after-all.

Choso's eyes felt unreadable, small movements from the tightening of his jaw as he'd hesitated. It hadn't been a good idea to encourage this behavior, yet he'd found his fingers hooking the neck of his shirt, exposing the base of neck curving to shoulder. An invitation for you to drink, a hypnotic pull toward the source of desire. He waited, pale skin exposed, for your teeth to graze him. When your eyes had landed upon the paths of veins beneath epidermis, blue lines both thick and thin, you'd leaned forward. 

Mouth watering, canines elongated and vision tunneling, there had been a magnetism toward the thick flesh and muscle that you'd felt yourself succumb to. He shuddered under the feeling of your teeth piercing sensitive skin, internalizing a moan of pleasure when he felt his blood flow from his vein to your lips. You gulped back the nectar that flowed through him and only him. 

Choso scaled a hand upward, fingers wrapping around the nape your neck and pressing you further into the crevice you'd resided within. Initially, he'd intended to pull you away, yet when a quiet hum of satisfaction had left your lips to vibrate against his skin, there had been a twang within his core; an ache that he couldn't ignore. So, instead of pushing you away, he'd forced you closer, allowing eyes to flutter shut. The near inaudible sounds of suckling had been music to his ears, tightness within his jeans when he'd allowed himself to feel a sensation he'd long since forgotten. Pleasure. 

Blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth when you'd pulled back, watching his expression intently to gauge his emotional state. Should you thank him? 

Your lips parted, his gaze locked over the small dips and creases that had been filled with his blood, coating thickly and cascading over the curve to meet chin. Choso ghosted a thumb over the mess, but chose not to swipe it away. Though, it had been too late to stop the pull you'd felt, a spark of lust ignited to the man you hadn't known but now craved.

Following your heart you'd straddled him, eyes locked when thigh caged thigh. His hands laid to rest over your hips, and as you'd set yourself still, your attention had been brought to the hardness of his crotch. Sighing at the contact, you'd been aware of the arousal pooling between legs, teeth grazing lip. Choso pulled your face to his, a moment taken to stall before you'd finally closed the gap.

When tasting his own blood so poignantly over your lips, mingling with tongue, his hips had bucked upward. He groaned at the sweet metallic nectar he'd known well, a cup over cheek, nails dragging over subtle flesh. Would he taste you, too? 

"Kamo..." Whispered between brisker kisses, you felt his lips move to linger over your cheek, trailing to your neck. The flat of his tongue rolled over skin, a shiver prickling down your spine before his mouth hovered to lobe.  "Can I?" His voice sounded deeper, a resonance of lust and husk of desire woven into the softness. A nod from you is all he'd needed to proceed, eyes overshadowed by darkness, glossy through arousal. 

A sharpness met your flesh, dragging slowly as if to tease, lips grazing the area as his mouth widened. Finally, he punctured skin, tasting your essence for the first time. Groaning, you rolled hips against his, head tilting to land over his shoulder as you shared yourself with him. Warm, lightheaded, you circled against him, a regular friction over the brick in his trousers.  "Feels good." Praises whispered to his ear had Choso yearning for more. 

Only for a moment he'd pulled back, pushing a hand to unbutton jeans and offer relief to the ache, finally free from cloth cage. Your fingers had looped through your own hem, pulling trousers to sit at mid-thigh before rolling them over knee. When exposed, Choso's eyes dropped, hands grasping the fat of your hips to guide you down onto his cock.

The stretch had been euphoric, jaw widening to allow mews to echo against his shoulder. Sinking down, you squeezed your eyes closed, arching of back only pushing you closer.  "More..." His voice was strained as he fought to ground himself, fearing the chance of losing his mind when he'd felt your intoxicating cunt take him in. It had been a long while since he'd allowed a woman to take him, since he'd felt the tightness of fleshy walls embrace him, milking his cock with each jut of hips. Once you'd found a rhythm with shallow breaths complimented by whines, Choso had reattached his lips to your neck, a vibration of chest emitting to yours to appreciate the skin he'd felt drunk against.  

Lapping, swallowing and humming had been the only noses dancing within your ears, an inability to remove your focus from the body beneath you and the flow of your soul intertwining with his. Choso's hand and the back of your head had met once again, guiding you toward the base of his neck. There had no longer been the bloody wound to signify your last bite, but he enticed you to make another, tongue grazing flesh. 

Each mouth occupied by the other's neck, a transfusion of blood through one another's vein. Choso felt himself twitch within your walls, abdomen sucking inward and a grunt as the coil had snapped, nails cutting into you with force as he drove your movements with white ropes shooting inside of you. Ecstasy had washed over the pair of you as he milked himself with your cunt, the taste of your iron oozing into his mouth. 

Once past the haze of his high, he pulled from your neck, sinking back into the sofa cushions behind. Blood stained his shirt, drips from lips to chin as the primal darkness from his eyes faded.  "Your eyes..." Voice raw, rasp tickling throat, you'd attempted to voice your confusion at the changes in appearance when feeding. The blackness had shrouded the entirety of the eye, unlike Fujita's that had been a vibrant shade of red. 

"When you feed, your face reflects the parasite inside. Eyes will change, teeth grow." His explanation had been voiced as he traced circles over the scratches he'd caused.  "I don't understand what's happening to me -" Only beginning to push further, you were stopped by drowsiness. The purple orbs had watched as you slumped forward to his shoulder, arms holding you in place.  "The transition is ending." Choso's words had been the last thing heard as darkness consumed your soul.

The haze lifted, slowly. 

Sitting upright, your confused gaze straightened out when taking in your surroundings. You'd laid on the couch, blanket over body as you'd looked around the room. There had been little sign of Choso now, but your hoarse voice called for him nonetheless, unsurprised to hear no response. When pushing yourself from firm cushion, you'd questioned the likelihood that last night had been another fever dream - though a blue piece of paper ripped from notebook and black ball-pen beside it had indicated that the evening prior had in fact been reality. Two words scribbled over the blank page had made your stomach flip.

good luck. 

Wandering through your home, you'd debated what to do. Choso had left no point of contact, and had offered little advice in terms of the newly acquired blood-lust. Only one other person had sprung to mind, one childhood friend who had shared a passion for supernatural stories of vampires hiding within the shadows; Nobara. Though, the chances of her holding valuable information had been slim, and even then, the likelihood of her laughing off your questions had been more than likely, she had been your only lead. 

Thumb hovering over call, you'd contemplated if this had in fact been a good idea. But, the more you questioned it, the less you'd felt you'd had to lose - the chance of her knowing something had outweighed the possibility of being made fun of, with much more to gain from the former. 

"Hello?" Her voice echoed through receiver, tone lightly sprinkled in annoyance.  "Nobara." Her name fell from your lips as you brought a nail to lips, biting over it before continuing. "I wanted to ask something, about when we were kids." 

She laughed in irritation. "You disappear off the face of the earth for a week and call me to ask about our childhood?" 

"I'm sorry, I've been sick with a fever," You thought, closing eyes to focus, to think of a better excuse than I got turned into a vampire. "and I spent the time in bed, remembering something."  "I was worried about you, asshole." Her tone was lighter now, though you could picture the scowl you were sure had been etched across her face. "What did you wanna ask?"  "The house, on the hill. When we were kids, you mentioned the Kamos living there." Trying to remain ambiguous, you steered clear of word vampire, weary not to plant a seed of concern within her mind. As a person within your late twenties, supernatural creatures hadn't felt appropriate to bring up without reason. 

"What are you saying, you didn't run into one, did you?" The bitchiness she'd previously displayed had suddenly switched to alertness, a red flag sprung within her mind. "Listen, stay away from Kamos. They're..." She let out a wry breath. "They're not good people."  "Oh, I just- I was just wondering about them, I've never seen one before." You'd hoped she would believe the lie, though her response had only raised more questions. 

"Okay. Was that all?" There was movement on the other side of the line, followed by another woman's voice.  "Yeah." It felt no use to keep pushing. "But, why aren't they good people?"  "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me, okay? Just- stay away from them." She'd hushed the other person, trying to listen for your response.  "Okay. Send my regards to Maki." 

With no luck from the phone call, you left isolated within your own thoughts. Two days had passed with concerned calls from your mother and colleagues, flowers sent to your door that had been thrown out due to an unbearable scent. There would be a time in which you'd have to return to work, yet you couldn't trust yourself not to attack other beings. Would this be life from now on? 

It had all started with that bite, with the house bordering the forest. Something had happened to you within that moment, that you'd been left unable to understand. Had the teeth that pierced your skin been laced with poison? 

A pounding over door had caused you to grown in annoyance, pushing yourself from the self-loathing thoughts and the safety of bed to shuffle toward the hall. The knocking had continued until you'd opened it, eyes squinting as sun had cast light into what had been the dark home you'd hidden within. Megumi had stood within the day, and without a greeting had shoved past you to enter, hand already in contact with the door above your head to slam it closed behind him. 

"Well, that was rude." Sarcastic comment from your lips, a roll of eyes, you looked to your friend in worry. Though, this fear hadn't been due to his abrupt arrival, but to the blood-lust imbued with your soul. 

"Don't tell Kugisaki." His statement had caught you off guard, opening your mouth to question him, only to be cut off. "They're hunters. The second she finds out, you're dead." 

Perplexed expression, questions swirled through your mind. "How?" Searching for an answer within his eyes, you were offered little in return. Megumi had always done well to mask his true emotion, though even with his efforts, you'd been able to read waves of genuine distress. 

"Yuji." A name you'd known well, the pink haired ball of energy the three of you would hang around with often as children, though when reaching high-school, tragedy had struck and his life had been taken. His funeral had been the first you'd attended, his death the first wave grief you'd endured. 

"What does Yuji have to do with this, Megumi?" 

He looked to the floor, exhaling slowly. 

"Megumi." Tone harsher, you pushed him further. 

"He's Kamo's half brother. They live together." 

He prepared himself for the barrage of hate, understanding your anger stemming from a place of hurt, the trauma of losing a close friend while still so young. You hadn't just mourned over the past, but the future he'd lost. Hours spent wondering if you'd have just paid more attention, or offered to walk him home that evening, he wouldn't have been killed. 

"Yuji's- He's dead, Megumi." His face was placid, eyes on the floor. "Tell me, he's dead, isn't he?" Instead of reassurance, your friend had offered an alternative.  "He was never alive." His hands grasped one another, nail picking at skin.  "Why are you being to cryptic?" Tears welled in your eyes as you pictured Yuji growing without you, without his friends. He'd been around all these years?  "He was cursed by his family, same as Choso. They're different to us, though." "Us?" 

Megumi sighed, eyes closing. "You're not the first Fujita has bitten."  Although surprised, you'd felt some relief in the fact you'd be able to control yourself around Megumi, the realization that the insatiable blood-lust had not been triggered within his presence. It had been obvious he wasn't human. 

"How does this tie into you knowing I'm a vampire?" The final piece of the puzzle.  He sighed at your label, flinching at the childish nature, yet understanding the lack of pragmatic options within this reality. "It's called a cursed-being." Corrected, your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Kamo came home smelling like you. Did he hurt you?" You felt his gaze scanning over you, though quickly shook your head to dismiss the accusation. 

"But, Choso hasn't fed from the source in decades, why now?" You hadn't seen Megumi so sporadic before, usually mellowed and calm, now on edge. Panicked, and scarred. 

"Choso didn't hurt me. He let me feed from him." You danced around the terminology. Had this been the correct phrasing for something so foreign to you?  "No, he smelled of your blood, he must've taken some." Megumi pushed, leaving you burning up with the memories of his skin on yours, his blood trailing over your lips, the euphoria of sharing yourself with him. "Oh, don't tell me-" He pulled a face, scoffing. "That's disgusting." 

Walking through woodland, twigs broke beneath your feet. It hadn't taken long for you to find the house once more, the residence haunting your mind, to forever be ingrained within your memory, your dreams. If what Megumi had spoken had been true, Fujita would still be lurking around the surrounding wood, a being to fear. The dangers had scared you, but the need for answers had conquered fear, reasoning with yourself that you'd be dead if not able to find the truth before long. 

Bashing shoulder to door, the  bowing wood splintered, giving way after a second hit. You'd placed a foot over the barrier with reluctance, unwanted memories flooding brain when passing through the doorway. You scanned the interior, glancing over chipped flooring and decaying walls. It had been clear the lot had been vacant, something that should have been a bigger cause for alarm when you'd first approached the house. If it had been possible to turn back time and undo the need to please your mother, you'd prevent yourself from taking the case, from coming here alone. Things could've turned out differently had you valued your safety over appraisal. 

An uncomfortable emptiness had reminded you of the fact you hadn't fed since Choso had offered himself to you, and unless you'd eaten soon, you would likely die. Though, you hadn't been so sure you weren't dead already. A wooden bookshelf had been coming away from peeling walls, scent of decay ripe on your nose when growing closer. Frowning, you examined the books, finger trailing over thick coatings of dust before stopping over one decorated in a thick red cover, golden swirls ornately decorating both edges and spine. Blowing dirt away, you opened the thin, discolored pages, stopping when glossing over a drawing. Black eyes, surrounded by veins. Beneath, the text: pure-blooded eyes. 

Ornately drawn with high attention to detail, the image had closely resembled the eyes of Choso, initiating a tingle across skin upon remembering the deepness searching within your own. Chin dripping in blood, gaze lustful, an evil aura that had enticed you. They'd been vastly different to the irises you'd met in your encounter with Fujita, and held more of a predatory semblance. You scanned the writing further, searching for an explanation to the differing characteristic. 

'Descendants of the original cursed-being are named pure-bloods. A scarce species treated as royalty among most of the cursed, as pure-bloods hold the power of birth among curses. 

If bitten by a feral curse, the victim will fall to a fever, reverting to a feral state unless pure-blood is consumed by the sixth day of infection. 

Pure-blood is a great rarity among cursed-beings; worshiped. Those carrying the pure-blood will as such refrain from blood sharing, a topic deemed taboo among cursed-beings. Cursed blood is to be exchanged during mating ceremonies, an intimacy between betrothed. If un-mated, a cursed-being shall not allow another to drink from them. 

As a result of this, 99.4% of  infection cases end in feral curses.' 

The book closed by shaking hand. A breath you hadn't realized you'd held had finally been dispelled, the aching fullness of your chest withering. If the writing had held truth, Choso's action of blood sharing had been a large gesture, or display of desire. The phrase 'pure-blood' had stuck in the fore-front of mind, a reminder of the aura Choso had radiated, and the control he'd had. When he'd asked you to focus on him, to calm yourself, it had felt so natural to follow the flow of his voice and find solace within his presence - was this the presence of a pure-blood? 

A car engine approaching had pulled you from the stupor you'd allowed yourself to hang within, head snapping upward and turning toward the doorway. You pressed yourself against the wall, eyes closed and focused on listening to the footsteps that had followed the slam of a car door. The sound of radio static had caused concern, a realization that whomever had been approaching the house had likely been law-enforcement, and by that respect, would know your face. When peeking to the hall, you'd watched a beam from flashlight scan the floorboards, booted feet stepping through. 

"Anyone in here?" Low toned voice echoing through the house had your head had darting back, holding breath with back pressed to wall. Looking over your surroundings, you contemplated a better hiding place. Though, you'd became distracted when taking a steady inhale through your nose, an attempt to oxygenate your lungs after holding breath a little too long, your stomach dropped. Blood. 

The stench had been intoxicating, unbearable. Just like the woman in the grocery store, the potent scent had been something you'd felt yourself incapable of ignoring, once dry mouth now salivating, sharpness of teeth and fangs apparent against skin. Thinking back to the store, imagining Choso's face, you tried your best to ignore the pull toward vein as she edged closer, drool falling from mouth as you'd squeezed eyes closed. Through darkness, images of blood had played throughout your mind, an inescapable urge as you pushed yourself from the wall, eyes meeting victim. 

"Stop right there!" The officer had shouted, yet with your enhanced speed she'd been helpless. A wail ricocheted the empty walls of the entry-way as her arm had been twisted by your hand, weapon dropping to clatter to floor. Pushing her toward the wall, you'd lunged toward her neck, but she'd fought back with a knee to stomach and shove of hands. The actions she'd taken had mirrored your own from only a week prior, a painful reminder to the low you now found yourself within. She stumbled backward, helplessly flailing arms as she fought against your increased strength, but falling through the door to forest floor below. Lurching forward, your teeth had finally pierced the thick of her neck, face set against shoulder as she let out a weak cry.

Hunger. Within your core, echoing through your mind and body. Nothing but the desire to eat, and unwillingness to stop now the feast had begun. As you swallowed back blood, a snarl between swallows, you felt hands on your collar to follow with a sharp pull backwards. Your thirst had yet to be quenched before you'd been laying on your back, only feet away from the unconscious body. Heavy breaths, racing thoughts, you felt close to losing yourself. Her blood hadn't satisfied you yet, the curse within you begging to lunge back and drain every remnant. 

But, there was still an aching hole her blood could not fill. Something about her hadn't been fulfilling enough, incomparable to the juices Choso had offered from neck. Such a sweet taste, thick and coating your throat - there had been a clear superiority. Was this the effect of pure-blood? Within you, a switch flickered, a need for more. Would you have to kill a hundred men to search for this taste one more time? 

Through flurry of emotion, your name had been called, red eyes finally lifting from the unknown's bloodied neck to face the figure that had pulled you from her body. 

Choso.

Mouth dropping open, overtaken with need, you pushed yourself from the ground to dart toward him. Hands had hit against hard chest, and through taking him by surprise, you'd succeeded in tackling him. Just as you pressed your palms to his bicep, teeth grazing neck in preparation to taste his lineage once more, his arms had broken free from your vice and flipped to thrash you against leaf covered mud. Choso had found dominance, holding your limbs roughly against the dirt to leave you paralyzed.

"Stop." He'd uttered the words through annoyed countenance, but you continued to try beneath him, baring teeth. "Stop!" Louder now, a hypnotizing pulse pulled you from frenzied state, eyes softening and body halting. You relaxed, chest heaving with consequence to unhinged breaths. Choso's grip loosened as he sat up, ungracefully stumbling from you to instead hurry his attention to the woman you'd left injured. 

Dread coursed through your chest, a wave of nausea filling your stomach as you jolted upward. The meal previously scavenged from an innocent was regurgitated onto the floor, thick crimson falling from your mouth with deep heaves. Tears welled in your eyes as what had been tunnel-vision had lifted, the gravity of an intense situation setting in. It had been difficult to lift your gaze from the bloodied grass below, but you forced yourself to, watching as Choso had a hand placed over the innocent's head, eyes closed.

Surrounding him shone a white aura, chills cascading over your body in waves as you watched the pureness surround him. It felt as if you'd looked into his soul, an angelic song murmured into ears spoken by divine energy. Sound waves tickled your brain, eyes glossing over in awe. His eyes opened, blackness within them a contrast to what had felt to be heavenly divination blessing the unconscious body before him. 

No words had left his lips as he pushed himself upward, no longer kneeling but instead coming toward you. As he moved, the aura lifted, reality set over the world. Colours that had been bleached by transfixed mind had faded back to the normal greens and browns of woodland. He came toward you in anger, balled fists only uncurling to reach at your collar, heavy footsteps dragging you to the other side of mangled brick. Only when behind the house had he spoken, but not before a harsh shove to the brick exterior. Upon impact, a cloud of dust gushed from weak foundation.

"What the fuck was that?" His tone hadn't been the same soft comfort you'd remembered, instead a deep hatred echoing through eardrum. You looked toward him wide eyed, the overpowering demonic presence within the colorless eyes feeding dread to core.  "I lost control, I don't-" Stuttered words as you'd attempted to formulate a sentence, a panic setting over you. It felt hard to speak to a deity that had felt so strong. 

"You're lucky I was here, or you'd have exposed us all." He loosened his grip on your shirt, taking a step rearwards. The stinging from your back had eased as you'd no longer been plush to hard brick, stumbling on feet. You were weak, the blood consumed from intense hunger now vacated from your body. Back to square one. 

"I'm sorry." Your head was bowed, shoulders tense, but Choso could see your expression clearly. Regret, fear. He hadn't needed to use the powers imbued in him to read your thoughts because you displayed them clearer than day. "Is she okay?" The words uttered had caused Choso to sigh, a clear indication your intentions hadn't been from selfishness, but rather lack of control. His anger subsided as he watched you cry over the woman harmed, and felt a pull to aid you in self control. Though he hadn't trained a cursed-being before, he'd understood your confusion - he'd wanted to help. 

"I changed her memories. She's fine." Flashes of the white aura came to mind as you thought back to his palm resting over her head. Had this been the power he'd used? 

"Are you-" Looking to his eyes, you were met with the purple orbs you'd remembered when first meeting, the same eyes you brought to watch when attempting to ease hunger. There was solace in those eyes. Tired, yet soft, relief from the outer world radiating from him as if luring you in. "Are you a pure-blood?"

An exhale of amusement as his gaze dropped down, gliding over your feet. He folded an arm over the other. "You could say that. I'm a descendant of Lilith, the first curse."  "That's why your eyes are black?"  Choso nodded, painted nail grazing over the loose fitted sweater hanging from shoulders. "The Kamo carry Lilith's blood." He paused, finally lifting his sight from the autumn leaves to your apologetic gaze. "How did you know?" 

A finger raised, you pointed to the brick behind you, a glance to broken windows before explaining. "A book, in there. There were drawings, ones of eyes that looked like yours, but-" Sighing, you pushed past anxiousness as you continued. "It said cursed-being don't share blood." Once finished, you refused to look toward him. Instead, you watched the trees surrounding you, tall and looming. Although ivy had  covered the walls of the building beside you, it hadn't kissed the earth beneath or wildlife surrounding, as if protected by mother nature.

"We don't." Choso spoke with an authoritative tone. "But, you would've died if I hadn't, so just be thankful." Defensiveness hadn't been something Choso was used to, nor had scolding others. To be truthful, he hadn't strayed from the few friends he'd had, in a life he'd rather not live. Had saving you truly been a mercy? After-all, he'd not wanted the life gifted to him.

"Thank you." The words from your lips had caused his brooding expression to contort to curiosity. The hairs on his arms prickled as he surveyed your face. 

"I can end it now, if that would be easier for you." Purple orbs watched you through a sympathetic gaze. "Your life left you when you drank from me. The moments that lie ahead are filled with pain, and suffering. This curse is unbreakable, the hunger insatiable." Choso wanted to show mercy, to undo actions he wished he hadn't chosen to take. You could stop now, if you so wished.

"I'll learn." 

Head bobbing in acceptance, his cold chest tightened. Choso had led the same routine for decades, surrounded by the same faces, continuing the facade of humanity while allowing creatures below his status to feed. A new cursed-being drinking from the blood of Lilith had been a rarity in this world - you were the first to pierce his skin. The act of sharing hadn't been something he'd considered before he looked into your helpless expression, the inner fight between hunger and humanity. Though, on remembering the flow of that night, feeling another's fangs within his neck, venom coursing through his own stream and the hypnotizing suckling as you'd fed from him... he felt he couldn't lead the same lift again.

Your stomach growled with emptiness; a noise you'd began to hear more often. A sound that had been an ignition for Choso, twinge in his stomach and anxiety bubbling through a butterfly feeling he hadn't experienced since childhood. "You're hungry." His words had been more statement than question, and you'd shifted uncomfortably on your feet. Feeling exposed, you shied away, yet he had only stepped toward you with hand outstretched. 

"You can drink from me, but this will be the last time." Choso felt a semblance of sorrow from those words, a desire to have you drain his entire being.

Although you'd wanted to decline the offer, to demonstrate a pretense of self-control, your feet moved forward without the consent of your mind. The curse within you ached in it's own right when hungry, mouth watering, lungs empty. Looking to his wrist, you'd approached him through desperation, yet the lust within his being had reminded him that the neck had felt so much better, especially when you'd been wrapped around his pretty cock.

Fallen leaves padded his legs, the tall bark of tree supporting his back and open arms as he gestured you to straddle him. You'd obliged, sitting upon his lap with thighs caging his, much like the night you hadn't wished to forget. A hiss had escaped parted lips when your teeth offered relief to the meat of his shoulder, a groan to compliment the honey oozing from jugular. Lapping over the skin, you sucked the thick, pouring gore, the high returning to kiss your being. Choso's blood made your body warm, head dizzy. If he wouldn't stop you, you'd drink for eternity.

His fingers brushed your neck, moving hair to the side. Pausing meal, you withdrew from his skin to tilt head to the side and welcome his bite. Sharp fangs had grazed flesh before puncturing, hum from lips when you felt your essence flow from you. His tongue dragged the length of your neck, open mouthed kisses running from your jaw. When his teeth dragged across skin, a strained moan had escaped lips, Choso grazing the spot beneath lobe, tongue swiping to cheek. Turning face to his, Choso adamantly pressed his lips to yous. Sloppy, animal-like kisses had been shared between you, teeth clashing and tongues sliding for a taste of the other. Hints of your blood had been coating his lips, and his on yours, arousal pooling.

Choso took your lips between his teeth, a harsh bite to draw blood. You mirrored this action to his own lips, deep and passionate kisses now decorated in iron twang, a mesmerizing flow between two beings. With one hand holding head in place, the other groped your body, sliding over the small of your back to squeeze over ass, humming as his forceful grab had left him wanting more. 

Your back met with the dried mud and forest's debris, Choso's fingers hooking through the waistband of your trousers to pull them aggressively to ankle. His eyes were black, teeth sharp with an intense wraith radiating from his presence. This must have been the aura of Lilith's descendants, that of power, control. Looking to him had felt as if you were looking to a God, though with the curse demonizing him, it had been evident these creatures would be nothing more than false-Gods. Demons. 

Choso ducked to seat his face between your legs, tongue gliding over folds to coax a whine from parted lips. The sudden movement had you to stirring beneath him, legs threatening to close. This had provoked Choso's hands to meet thigh, pressing legs to open wide. He lapped a stripe once more, before circling over the bud he'd craved, whines falling to appraise him. Breaths heavy, you bucked upward, finding a pace that transfixed both you and him. Your moans were captivating and spurred him on to continue, though the ache imprisoned by his trousers wouldn't be ignored much longer. 

 His hums vibrated over your core, back arching from forest floor as the throbbing in your abdomen had built itself much deeper, desperate grinds against the mouth that pleased you.  "C-choso..." His name from your lips had been enchanting, an ethereal goddess charming his very being. Your fingers found their way to lace within black locks, tugging to the base of his skull, pulling him closer. He'd felt unable to breathe as you held him in place, yet continued on in bliss. His short pants had fanned against you, sharp breaths inward forcing him to inhale more of your scent. 

The coil snapped, a wail and cry from lips as he continued to massage your folds with his tongue. Choso lapped at the slippery juices, groaning and swallowing back as much as he'd been able. When your whimpers grew quiet and your high fizzled out, Choso's teeth sunk into the fat of your inner thigh, large hands holding the limb in place as he tasted more of you. 

His cheek pressed to your leg as he peered up at your disheveled state, chest rising and falling at rapid pace. When shifting, the tightness in his pants had grazed the forest floor, hips rolling as a shaking breath left his lips. Choso needed you, now. 

Lining up to the dripping hole he pushed himself in, moaning at the sensation of your walls finally hugging him again, a warmth on cold skin. Since that first encounter, he'd tugged fist over himself, tightening hand in attempts to mimic how your insides had felt, yet he had always been left disappointed. To have you again, now, was as if he'd been blessed. He withdrew his appendage only to push it back in once more, red lip leaking and sensitive as he'd felt overwhelmed in pleasure. 

With arms caging you beneath him, wrists grazing cheek, you tilted head to the side and bit into cartilage, a guttural groan spilling from his chest in excitement. Curses spewed from his lips as he felt his essence transferred to your being, cock twitching. His gaze dropped to watch himself disappear into you, thick base larger than he'd seen before - though he'd been sure this was due to pure arousal and lust. He considered the chance of you being his soulmate with how his body had felt against yours, two flames as one. A white ring around the base had demonstrated your pleasure and reminded him of the mules created with the movement of his mouth to your cunt, and Choso found himself pulling backward to kneel, pummeling cock and using the pad of thumb to massage just above. 

Your back arched from the floor, eyes rolling to display only whites. You'd still been sensitive from the encounter before, reacting immediately to the contact his digit gave to you.   "F-fuck, Choso, I can't-" The sensitivity had you gasping, each roll of hips to yours more intense than the last, a folding within the muscles of your stomach.  "Take it, one more." Uttered quietly the instruction rang in your ears, hands grabbing at the soil yet finding solace in nothing. The moans from your lips had been much louder now, but within the bubble you'd felt yourself within, you felt confident Choso would be the only creature to hear desperate screams. 

Once more, you lost control, blood stained mouth opening wide and muscles tightening, a flood of fluids coating Choso as he coaxed you through your climax. Several 'good girl's muttered inaudibly between thrusts, a squeeze over his cock. He leaned forward, face buried in your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply, unable to hold back as he bit into skin for a final time before his own end. 

Your nails dug into the skin of his back beneath the shirt he'd still worn, thick and toned muscle beneath your palms. Dragging fingers down, you'd created eight burning lines from shoulder to hip as your body had been pummeled to the dirt below, though as Choso grunted and groaned, it had clearly encouraged him more. 

His body his the amber leaves, laying with eyes closed, chest heaving. A comfortable silence had remained among nature, only ambiance of breaths and bird song. As one creature had called out, another had mirrored the mellow music from it's own beak, allowing the melody reprise.

"I think," You spoke quietly into the air. "Your brother knows about us." You watched the sky above the canopy, deep blue peeking through twisted branches.  "Yuji? Hm." Choso's mind had been elsewhere, yet your voice had brought him to think of family, and the repercussions of the actions the pair of you'd seemed unable to falter. "Megumi said Yuji had been able to smell my blood when you came home - can you differentiate smells?" A leaf twiddled between fingers.

"Yeah, sometimes. Your scent is stronger than most - it's sweeter. Tastes good, too." The compliment had your cheeks burning, a flutter within your chest.  "Yours is intoxicating." With your praise, it had been Choso's turn to heat up.  "Lilith's descendants taste different. We have the purest form of the curse; we pull others to us like magnets. But, it's all a facade. It's a hunting mechanism, to draw innocents to our clutches, and to manipulate those turned by our kind." The consistent hum of his voice had lulled you.

"Do you dislike your species?" Choso thought for a few moments as he watched the same patch of sky.  "Partially - but it's not our fault. It's Kenjaku's." A fledgling flew from one branch to another. " He experimented on Lilith, he cursed her and her children. We were born of wombs tortured by him, yet we have to live with the consequences from God."  

His childhood had been unpleasant. Memories of torture, pain and suffering had come to fruition, but he'd learned to push them back. Kenjaku had been a name he'd not wanted to speak, but with you, he'd felt inclined to pass on the truth.

"Could you teach me more?" Your request was hushed through fear of rejection. He pondered.  "Hm? About what?"  "How to live like this, the history... everything."  "Why?" He hadn't considered himself an airhead, though he couldn't find himself understanding the request. So much horror had surrounded that of cursed-beings, betrayal, sorrow. He hadn't been able to fathom why you wouldn't accept the naivete and ignorance as a gift.  "This is my life now." Turning to your side, you glanced over the expressionless face beside you. Purple eyes glowed in the dying light of day, pale skin decorated in shadows cast by the trees above. He considered your request, beginning where it had all started.

"We could start with home, I guess." Choso spoke, and you'd pictured the house from your childhood, full of questions and wonder. It felt as if fate had called to you all those years ago, the draw to know what had been awaiting beyond brick and mortar. Though, perhaps the pull had been towards something else; someone. The being beside you had felt like home, after-all. 

a/n: thank you so much if you read this far ! this fic took me 5 days to write, so i really hope it came out okay :,)

let me know if you guys want a part 2, there's a few ideas in my head honestly but i'm not sure how popular choso is and if people would even like that

but honestly i really put a lot into this so im nervous for what people are gonna say :')

also fun fact, just before writing this i finished evangelion and the Lilith idea is totally based off Lilith in evangelion lol

rbs and comments are really appreciated <3

tags: @suget @woozzz @goblinbabyy @iwassuna @iisuzuus @osamusriceballz @p-3-4-c-h  @hakkaisgf @athyinherblues @maxi8898 @d0riannn @sanriocandies @akalisuguru @tiredjuniper @sugar-locket @nycvalntyne @anubisisthebomb

[outalongtheedges]

Goose on Film pt2

Part 1 Masterlist

The big photo albums that Goose kept all of his pictures in, took up the majority of the bookcases in the Bradshaw's study, lining at least the two bottom rows. Goose on Film Volumes 1 - infinity for all Ice cared. He never really bothered to count them, cause whenever he had tried to, Goose had produced another one, adding it to the shelf after making a whole show out of it. Goose would get out the projector and made all of them sit in his living room while telling them a story about each and every one of the photos he's taken for this album.

Ice would be lying to himself and everyone he knew if he didn't admit that he at least enjoyed those evenings just a little bit. In fact he loved them, together with everyone he cares about, Mav by his side laughing and smiling.

Today was another evening like that, celebrating Goose on Film volume 30-something. Mav's last mission, him and Bradley smiling and laughing as they had made it out alive, BBQ at their place last summer and much more.

Ice stared at the cork board with a faint smile, looking at the things Goose and Carole had deemed as important enough to hang up on there. Two post-it notes, one with an airplane Goose had tried to draw that came out looking more like a fish, the two photos he had to steal back from Mav and Slider's wife, a negative to a picture of him and Mav from the 90s and of course their entire pride and joy, a picture little Brad Brad had drawn them. Not being able to draw planes seems to run in the family.

Ice smiled like he only did in private, looking at all the memories the Bradshaws had kept over the years, their entire house a testament to a life full of memories worthy of being stored out in the open.

Goose on Film Vol. 5, open on the floor, first page showing Mavericks sloppy all caps handwriting in a pen that had already seen its best days by the time Goose made his husband write the title with it. The photo to the negative that was on the cork board, gleamed at him in mint condition, like it had never been touched or seen the light of day. Maverick never seemed to look at the camera when he was so most of the photos they have together are of either him or Mav looking at anything other than the camera pointing at them. Nothings changed there.

Sometimes Ice doesn't know which exit ramp on which highway he took to end up here, but he won't question it.

"Ice come back! Carole's getting the ice cream!"

His smile grew, bidding the albums and the cork board a last goodbye. "Until next time", Ice whispered and turned back around to his family.

Listen I know I promised this thing to you guys at least a month ago, I apologize. My apprenticeship is beating my ass right now, time wise mostly. Thing is I've also been writing on an icemav ff. I'm not going to promise you ppl any time frames, cause I know it won't work out, but it'll come.

[musicalmoritz]

What are your thoughts on the chapter 118? MitsuKou fans are eating GOOD I can say that much

My thoughts on the best chapter thus far of the current arc? I’m glad you asked

I must say this chapter launched me into a full blown Mitsukou/Soukou brainrot. I have like a million fic ideas for both of them now and there’s no way I can possibly write all of them AND complete my requests so I just have to be sad. But omg, what a chapter!! I’m still stuck on the “smothered him with attention” line, that sounds like some shit I’d write. And ofc Kou being “captivated by that loser.” Ugh they’re so in love. I am now fully convinced that Sousuke had a crush on Kou in the former timeline when he was alive, you literally cannot convince me otherwise

The fact that if Kou’s mother hadn’t died and his father wasn’t neglectful, he would’ve used his free time to befriend Sousuke…and him being the one to save Sousuke’s life in the new timeline…oh I’m ill. The finger scene. Kou’s little blush. MITSUBA TEACHING KOU HOW TO USE A CAMERA BY STANDING BEHIND HIM AND GUIDING HIS HANDS. This was their cheesy romcom moment. The dead wife montage in an action movie

I love how their former selves are trying to reach out to them. No.3 was so unhappy with his existence to the point of wanting to die, and he wanted Sousuke’s life so badly but now that he’s lost it all he wants it back. Kou learned during the Red House arc that it’s okay if life is complicated, it’s okay if he’s stressed and doesn’t have everything he wants, and now he has to see a version of himself live in blissful ignorance. I don’t understand how people can say this timeline is better unless they’re fluff addicts, them staying in this timeline would do nothing for their character arcs and the overall narrative themes of growing up and facing reality. This life may be easier, but it robs each of them of their natural growth. I understand people are gonna have different preferences but the conflict of the old timeline MADE the story, do ppl rly want all of that to be thrown away for some “and then it never happened” ending?? Do you genuinely think it would be better writing if we never saw No.3 Mitsuba again and his arc ended with another shock value death???

Sorry for the rant lol, I couldn’t help myself. Absolutely no offense to anyone who prefers this timeline, it’s not like the fans are writing the story anyways so these opinions are harmless

I love how every version of Mitsuba wants to be someone else, they each perceive themselves as the “fake one” (excluding OG Sousuke) and feel disconnected from their existence. When I get around to writing my character analyses for TBHK I WILL talk abt all the queer allegories that go along with Mitsuba’s character but for now I’ll hold my tongue. All ik is this chapter made me love Sousuke sm more

Oh, and adult Amane…jump scare of the century. I can’t wait to see what his role is in this new timeline, I have a feeling it may be similar to Baby Tsukasa in the previous one. I love whenever the Yugi twins interact with Mitsuba (yes even the angst with Tsukasa) so that scene made me cheer. Also Kou saved his boyfriend!! Yippee!!

Sousuke and Kou wanting to run away together gave me major Picture Perfect Amanene vibes. Also HKOTO vibes, pls bring back the yaoi kidnapping🙏🏻

I think that’s all I have to say, Mitsukou fans were well fed this chapter. I’m eager to see the next one, still manifesting that Kou villain arc

[youredreamingofroo]

LOVE TRAIN INBOUND !! 🚂💨💨

This is inspired by @acuar-io !! Thank you for doing this and THANK YOU FOR THE TAG!! (even tho it didnt tag me properly 🤧)

Tumblr is silly and while I will tag ppl, I know not everyone will be properly tagged, so if u see this, skim thru the list for your name ESPECIALLY if your my mutual ! 🫶

To start off, I just wanna say that Fae (acuar-io) has some absolutely STUNNING sims, it's hard to exactly word it, but their sims are SUPER recognizable, and their saves (Snow flower, Cozy save, etc) are SO nicely edited, so aesthetically pleasing to the eyes 🫶😩

@oshinsimblr is the reason why I started storytelling (even before my simblr time) and why I try and find a story-related reason on why my sims/characters do certain things, her videos are also SO comforting and i love her lovesick series!!! and of course, @minimooberry the whole inspo for this simblr and why I render in blender!

@mattodore and @cinamun are AMAZING simblrs if u want rich storytelling and/or well-thought out characters, River has inspired me to really tear into my characters and give them more personality, and cina just genuinely makes such realistic characters and the tea is ALWAYS hot and simblr aside, she has very good takes >:P

@groovetrys and @circusjuney have been around on my blog and as my mutuals for a LONG time and they really are some of my biggest hype people, lori has an AMAZING legacy going on with her sim, Melody, and u should DEF check it out, and june makes the most amazing clown sims 🥹 theyre always so pretty and STUNNINGGGG

-> To add onto the above category, id also consider @miralure as one of my biggest hype ppl!!! Although they havent been around as long as june and lori, they always hype me up and it makes me stupid happy 😭 they make REALLY good lookbooks and i love their sim style SMMMM

if u dont know about @rebouks what are you DOING with your simblr-life, bc becca has some of the most human-feeling story/dialogue, i always get a stupid sappy smile on my face when i read her story posts

@jarakio has an AMAZING story called Girls with Guns and its prolly my fav story that ive read on simblr, the dialogue? amazing, the poses? amazing, the vibes? AMAZING, i'm ALWAYS hooked in whenever i see GwG pop up on my dash

@stellarfalls just HAD to be on this list are u kidding me????? Bree has a PHENOMENAL save called Valley, even tho there's no dialogue, each image and gif speaks more than words could, she's inspired me to kick up the quality of my posts and also start making gifs, I also consider her to be one of my biggest hype ppl, she always be coming in with the best compliments 🥹🫶

@torissims !!! She makes BEAUTIFUL posts, her blog is very yellow and orange and i LOVE IT, she pulls a lot of inspo from Studio Ghibli and even tho ive never seen any SG Movies, I can just see and feel the inspo, shes def underrated af 🥹

@amburgundy has BEAUTIFUL builds, and they dont just do TS4, they also make builds in other sims games!! (u did a phenomenal job with Madi's legacy house amber 🤝) I LOVE the clutter and they always looks so cozy 😭

@flovoid is another one of my hypemen LMFAOOO bro you and your tags literally make me so happy, i LOVE reading them. Flo makes AMAZING SIMS, and you should check out literally ALL of their sims, especially their sims Roo and Norman from Majima Land (first post under my Roo tag is me reacting to one of their posts with Roo and Norman, funniest introduction to a blog ever), Also their sim, Draco Almond??? He's got me tucking my hair behind my ear... 🫦🫦

@elderwisp has some of the most immaculate editing ive ever seen, the lighting, the vibes, the dialogue, the poses, the expressions, i be eating those posts up like im fine dining 😩😩

@changingplumbob is so chill, I love how much passion she has for her rotations, and her love for cats?? Perfect mutual to have, I also literally LOVE reading her behind the scenes posts, they're literally so funny 😭😭

@tricoufamily and @dejasenti99 make absolutely phenomenal renders, like if theres any renders on simblr that im gonna recognize immediately, its these two's renders, they're genuinely more HQ than my fucking eyes 😭😭

-> Also Nat (Missatan) makes incredibly HQ renders as well, these three are like... my biggest blender render inspos...

@buttertrait @missatan @virtualfolk @pearlean @claudtrait all have BEAUTIFUL sim styles, butter's is very unique, i know they arent really a sims 4 blog anymore but i ALWAYS recognize butter's sims when i see them on my dash and I genuinely love their sim style sm. Nat (Missatan) has SUCH a gorgeous sim style, you've heard of them hips dont lie, well her sims' lips dont lie 😩🫦 Virt (Virtualfolk) and Sam's (pearlean) sim styles are SO animated (if that makes sense), they're like eye-candy. Den (claudtrait), like Nat, has a sim style with the most luscious lips and poutiest faces ive ever seen and are just SOO pleasing to look at, like i just feel blessed in the eyes when i see their sims

@yukikocloud 's Apricot save and storytelling is incredibly reminiscent of Bree's posts, and I just LOVE looking at and reading her story posts, this post in particular just absolutely captivated me, I was drawn in and just get so giddy seeing the Apricot save pop up on my dash 🥹

@alientown @venriliz @nefarrilou @druidberries @machinegrl make STUNNINGGGGG occult (or cyber/robotic in Baja/Machinegrl's instance) sims. Nef always makes beautiful sims for their Cryptid "series", im just in AWE when i see their cryptids... Ven and Ana (alientown) both always make absolutely gorgeous alien sims and they also just have very unique/beautiful sim styles 😍 Baja's cyber girlies are just >>>>>>>>>>>>> I love her whole dystopian/cyber theme, its literally so good and so cool, and her Deadstars series? SO good. Alexis' (druidberries) elowen is so pretty, and her sim style, especially with occults, is just MWAH chefs kiss, literal eye candy

@swallowprettybird is just one of the sweetest people on simblr, I love reading what she has to say about mine and others' posts, and she makes amazingggg posts, I loved that one national geographic inspired post with the zebra, it was so well done

@softle0 makes some absolutely stunning builds, they always look so lived in, so cozy and I would ABSOLUTELY live in pretty much every single build they make

and honorable mentions to @droolski @felysline @pamsimmerstories @swiftviolets @weirdosalike @mushbop @calicosimgirl @shadowtrait and @seriallovertrait because I feel like they're all SO underrated, they're all passionate about their own stuff and I just love seeing their posts, and if you're seeing this, FOLLOW THEM 🫵🫵

Thank you Fae (acuar-io) once again for starting this train up, I love seeing stuff like this and it's so sweet to see what everyone has to say about one another, I may have spent 1 or 2 hours doing this, but it was INCREDIBLY well spent to be able to admire and appreciate all these people, them and every other simblr person, whether i follow them or not, deserve every last drop of love and appreciation genuinely

[pedropascalunofficial]

STORY TIME

Why did Pedro Pascal go quiet on socials?

Well, let's hazard a guess. Maybe he saw what his shitty "fans" were getting up to.

If I've left anything out, please dm me. And if you'd like to threaten me, my receipts are all in order🖕

What have Pedro Pascal's shitty "fans" done in this fandom?

Stalked him and used it for clout in order to gather more information. (Ms Green and Ms Peacock)

Tracked his and his friends' activity. The person got blocked by the friend and used the news for clout. Mega lols all round on that one, not🙄. It gave them something to talk about on their trip, I guess🤷‍♀️ They were quiet after, though, right?! (Ms Green)

Created a private group chat and used it to gather information on his whereabouts. (Ms Peacock)

Moved in order to be closer to his house. When he mentioned he moved, they openly enquired about moving to a neighbourhood close to his new place. (Ms Wrestlemania)

Supported a friends project and made themselves the biggest donor yet publicly complained about their financial situation. Weird, right?! The friend was going through a really tough time. The fans used the access they gained to the friend to manipulate the friend into giving them access to him. The friend closed their project. (Ms Wrestlemania)

Made professional moves in order to work with another one of his friends in order to gain access to him. (Little Miss 23andme)

Bullied and harassed another fan for having limited access to him. They then doxxed the victims' family members' funeral. When they were called out and tried to defend themselves, they were caught owning an account that had supported the harassing messages. (Ms Wrestlemania and HideandSeek)

Stole photos from independent photographers and shared as their own, which he then shared so the photographer got paid. (Col Mustard)

Shared a stolen photo of him and another actor so he was forced to share his own so he owned the narrative. (Ms Peacock)

Had multiple genuine fan accounts deleted and suspended out of hate and jealousy. (Ms * and Encarni)

Sent d**th threats to other fan accounts. (I'll just pretend not to know who did this because it's under federal investigation💚)

That would definitely put me off going online. No wonder he went quiet.

I'd like to add that I was a total scumbag too once. Checked his personal info, thinking it was ok to do so out of interest. I shared bits and pieces because I didn't realise the ripple effect. Then I realised his info was being traded for people's personal gain. People were being manipulated into providing more and more. People were being ripped off for someone selling pics without a licence (you know who). I stopped. I made amends. I know I made a difference, so thank you to everyone who has helped right the wrongs.

Thank you to the people who helped provide tips.

Thank you to the people who had their lives affected but still stuck around to keep the good in the fandom.

Thank you to the people who listened.

Thank you to the people who took action when required.

Thank you to Pedro💜

And a giant FUCK YOU to the ppl who are still doing that shit and negatively affecting people's lives, including Pedro's and his friends' and family's.

Why did Pedro Pascal go quiet on socials?

Canada

Deuxmoi

Clue

The Meandering Response

The Counter Perspective

The Old Ladies

Buying Followers Pt1

The Fandom Stain Pt2

[lorablackmane]

It's time for ghosts y'all!! I wanted to make this post once I finished a chapter or 2 of my AU's fic, but I've talked about these lil fuckers so much w/ Teal in the past month I figured it might be best to make a post b4 that so ppl aren't confused in the future.

The premise of this AU is after the night after the King is defeated, everyone is celebrating! ...Until odd things start to appear in the House. A giant bloodsplatter in the Death Corridor and a trail of blood leading from it to the King's room. A shattered shelf and knocked over pot missing it's contents in the kitchen. A frozen body near the storage room.

One by one, ghosts created from the breaking points of Siffrin's wish start to appear, and they're here to stay! For better... or for worse.

Below is how each ghost was made, their wishcraft's scent (I put too much thought into this info so I'm adding it), and a bit about them!

(Cw for the ghost's stories below: death, suicide, allergy attack)

The Stoned - Created in Act 1 - Smells like Copper and Sugar

(This one will get a proper ref later bc this doesn't fully capture him)

Despite their looks, The Stoned is the calmest out of all of them, even though their death was one of the most painful. It happened so quickly and also messed up enough that the Wishcraft couldn't fix most of their body after the boulder disappears... so he can't feel pain anymore. He can't really feel much honestly there's... there isn't many nerves to feel with anymore. The additional lack of bones is a detriment to their ability to move, making them have to crawl around and continuously shift so they won't lose their balance until they get items like crutches and a wheelchair to help.

The Stoned doesn't know the horrors of the House and so are innocent in a way even Bonnie isn't. They never even it made it to the second half of the first floor! So a lot of the things the others talk about fly over their head. The others don't leave them out of talks about the House though! ...Not that the Stoned... really speaks - but it's the thought that counts!! They have their buddy to speak for them, anyway.

Just like how Loop's Wishcraft made their body unique, each ghost has their own lil quirk due to the Wishcraft that powers their bodies. The Stoned has the oddest one: due to their lack of most their bones their body is almost completely powered by Wishcraft that is activated by the air he breathes in. Because of this, he can actually almost flatten himself by releasing all the air inside themself, and will stay that way until he breathes back in. He can't move like that, but it does sometimes come in handy - by releasing some instead of all the air they can make themself slightly more compact to get into tight places!

The Silent - Created in Act 2 - Smells like Saltwater Taffy

The Silent is a fearful one, they remember the pain the House offers but cannot feel it. They only truly remember up to Bonnie accidentally pushing them, however they know so much more. Each time Siffrin touched a tear he gave them the memories of that run, but to the Silent it was less like a memory and more like watching a play. Detached from themself... yet the fear is there. They aren't like Stone who only remembers his death, they know the blessing was a curse wrapped in a pretty bow and the thought that what they see is only a fragment of the loops Siffrin went through... it makes them retreat into themself, especially bc they see their existence as unneeded bc well... Siffrin already exists. They don't need another to bother them.

It's much easier to stay put, to let them become one with the House as the tears intended. They don't need to breathe, to eat, or anything really so it's quite easy for them to do so! For them to just... exist. Hiding in plain sight, like the books hidden on shelves of the House written in their mother tongue. So this is where they stay, until one day maybe people can hear them speak once more. They do occasionally move, mostly when they hear that the Housemaiden's need the area they're in, but only when they're certain no one is looking.

When it comes to fight, flight, or freeze they choose freeze every time... which isn't helped by the quirk of their body's Wishcraft. The Silent can freeze anything up to the size of a medium bowl if they hold it for long enough. The Unseen will sometimes use this to pull pranks on people who upset them, stealing their umbrellas and placing them in The Silent's hold. They find this very petty... but they don't like moving bc a Housemaiden might see them and it is funny so they don't stop the two from doing so.

The Unseen(Left) - Created in Act 3 - Smells like Candied Pineapples

The left one is similar in personality to the Stoned as when they were created Siffrin knews that something was wrong, but still had hope that things were okay. They are an odd one: they see their accidental death as nothing in the grand scheme of things considering how many deaths already happened before them. If anything, he sees his death as a vital piece of showing their love to their family oddly enough! His memory is spotty, but the answer to Bonnie's question is forever engraved upon their skin so none of them will ever forget (even if most cannot see them anymore except outta the corner of their eye). There is a great sorrow in them though, after meeting their counterpart and discovering that there was so much pain afterwards - that like them this fact is engraved into their counterpart... but they'll stay with them, and maybe... they can bring some joy back to the right.

They help keep their counterpart's pranks in check, as unlike the right left remembers how fragile people are and doesn't see them as actors or dolls. Most of the pranks they plan are leaving lil letters with terrible puns around the House. Like you go into the bathroom, there's a letter tied to the handle of the sink. You open it and it says something like, "water you doin, handsome?" Stupid stuff like that, that makes them feel like the funnyjokespunperson they were before everything. A way to reclaim what the loops took from them both.

The Lonely - Created in Act 3 - Smells of Sugar and Moldy Cloth

This ghost is the culmination of so, so many fragments Siffrin left in between those walls. For a long time they did not remember anything besides the motions to get to the King, yet they could never defeat him. They couldn't survive his major attack, no matter what they did. It feels like at one point he could though... wasn't there a way? It isn't until the ghost event that they remember what they lost and while it felt absolute euphoria in that moment, after that the loneliness became soul crushing. The hunger for someone, anyone to be with them hurt so much! ...It made them remember why they forgot their family the first time.

The Lonely's quirk unlike most of the others isn't seared on their skin. No, the Lonely's ability is actually only really useful for dealing with The Unseen - anytime one of the others is in danger or about to do something dangerous they sense it. The Vengeful is constantly ringing this mental alarm, but it can't do anything to help due to it constantly moving so they don't even try with them. The Unseen though, it is often seen dragging them by the ears before they do something like unleash a barrel full of marbles in a hallway.

The Vengeful - Created in Act 4 - Smells of Steel, Salt, and Sugar

It is the culmination of the King's cruelty and Siffrin's agony, a beast made of anger, pain, and sorrow in equal measures. It hates the King both bc Siffrin did and bc it sees him at fault for it's creation as it doesn't know of Wishcraft as it was created right on the line between 3 and 4. That is why it tore his right hand off and stole the gauntlet upon it - a punishment for the action that created it and a trophy for it to wear as proof that, even after such a horrid deed, he didn't win. It runs away from the House and it's former family because of this memory - it cannot confront the people it feels it failed even with the knowledge they survived, that it's sin wasn't permanent. In it's eyes it will always exist. It's eye will sometimes gleam with the same shade as the one that appeared when the world was breaking!

The Vengeful is the only ghost no one is completely sure the location of due to it throwing itself out of the first available window after completing it's mission. It mostly stays in forests or caverns where it can easily hide, only going near towns if someone reminds it of the King. Once it has dealt with said person however it views it needs to, mostly by scaring them, it returns to it's current hiding spot. The Vengeful is a lonely one, but it's not ready to be near people for long periods of time. It's afraid that due to how it was created it'll bring bad luck to those it spends too much time with - how couldn't it? It was created from a person trapped in the middle of an hourglass until they drowned in the golden sands and by a man who saw his will as absolute, who caused so much agony. One day, though, it'll realize that isn't true... but it'll be quite a while.

The Unseen(Right) - Created in Act 4 - Smells like Steel and Sugar

This one is the closest in personality to Loop. It mocks even though it has no voice, they play with the people around it to remind themself they're real. Without the left the right Unseen would be much more dangerous as it is so desensitized to death they have forgotten what is actually dangerous and so some of their mischief has to be tempered by the left one to avoid killing those around them. For a very long time they view others, besides left, as merely actors in a similar vein as Loop, only referring to others via titles if it needs to interact with anyone and left doesn't control the writing pen. As time passes this trait slowly disappears, as the days show more changes like rain upon the rooftops or snow in the gardens, things it long forgot.

Together with their counterpart The Unseen are the ones who were left behind through actions seen as small, but were greater than thought. The ones who cannot be seen without drastically changing the views of ones most loved by the person they once were. And so they stay hidden from sight by their own Wishcraft... but that is a lonely way to live they discovered. The two of them alone cannot satiate their need 4 company. And so they do little things that are easily noticed so they can be seen without breaking their rule: walking around with open, stolen umbrellas or pulling little pranks.

Most Housemaiden's don't talk to them, because they never get an answer they assume they don't like talking. This isn't the case though they cannot tell them that... neither can speak. The left's throat is closed up and the right's is... well u can probably guess why theirs wouldn't work even if they had a mouth to speak with. The Lonely though does speak to them often - it has a chalkboard in the room it lives in inside the House for them to write lil questions or answers on.

[xxcherrycherixx]

fuck it, we always talk about the apple hate but we never talk about the blondie hate-

that is my bbgirl my best friend, she's my pal. she's my home boy, my rotten soldier. shes my sweet cheese, my good time boy

and ppl always be bashing her for being "annoying and sticking her nose into shit" like bestie im sorry she's not another copy of literally all the other princesses- like yall want her to be holly? who is like forgettable af but hey shes not "annoying" (sorry holly enjoyers, but i legit forget about her existence so much)

she's such a fun character! her entire shit is be gay do crimes hun, she breaks into houses on the regular and just vibes there, she has like 4 restraining orders against her- she picks locks so good that people regularly just go to her when they need to sneak into places

she looks at girls with this face!

THAT IS HEART EYES MOTHERFUCKER NO ONE ELSE WAS LOOKING AT CUPID LIKE THAT, ONLY THE COUPLES BE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THAT THIS BITCH GAY GAY AND THEN THE WAY SHE SNAPS OUT OF IT AND JUST KEEPS STARING FOR A GOOD WHILE LIKE "oh shit well that's something i didn't know about myself-"

queen shit.

she wants to fit in so bad!!! she wants friends!!! she is my sad little meow meow!! she wants to become a reporter probably because her momma would tell her about how she use to work on the school newspaper!! And her momma would be so proud of her if she became a big time reporter!!🥺

she is so desperate to fit in, she's so ashamed that shes not real royalty like all her friends are that she feels she has to lie about it, and in blondie branches out where she tells a slightly more accurate version of her family and apple calls it a just right royal story, she's so happy and she looks so sweet!! she needs some validation babes!!!

she just wants friends!! the way she lies about her lineage is always to try to get the other royals to like her, she thinks she has to be like them for them to want to be her friends!! there's a hierarchy in ever after high that gets more detail in the books, royalty gets treated like celebrities with specialty seating and other perks. blondie is like every child who grew up in a fancy school when your family didn't have much, you see your friends constantly going on about their big house with a pool or the new shoes that cost more than your entire wardrobe and you start to feel alienated from the group. once more she needs some validation!!! help my girlie out!!!!

and the way she breaks into the bears homes, she believes they're her friends. so to her its fine to come over and ask momma if she has anything to eat, and the bears themselves don't really tell her to her face that shes not welcome. it seems baby bears outburst is the first time the bears have openly reacted negatively to her presence and blondie just thinks it was something to do with the other girls.

onto our big boy: BLONDIE IS SO FUCKING DISABLED CODED.

she cant understand social cues and is a perfectionist, her special interest is her show, she is picky when it comes to food preferring her safe food of porridge. this girl is a dead ringer for a bitch on the spectrum (this is coming from a bitch on many specrtrums including the autistic one) the thing is what i hate most is that when people hate on blondie, they're hating her for her neurodivergent traits. they might not realize it but that's completely what it is. "she's nosy and rude" she doesn't understand that what she is doing is rude, she cant tell when she crosses a line, i have done shit like that so many times like saying things i see as true and upsetting the other person and not realizing why.

she also has very strong signs of adhd with how much and how fast she talks and her lack of focus as shown in just sweet, just sweet shows these traits so perfectly, it was the episode that truly made it clear that this girl isn't neurotypical at all. i feel people call her annoying because of this, she talks so much and pair that with her autistic traits and she becomes unlikable for so many, but she's such a sweet girl underneath, there's a reason people still willingly hang out with her and that's because despite the fact she has these traits that come off as negative. she's still a kind girl happy to help her friends, she refuses to out ashlynns and hunters relationship because she can recognize that would be mean to her friends, she accepts helping raven out despite the fact her and the rebel haven't always been on the best terms, she invites poppy to the blue moon forest fest and is implied to help holly with picking locked doors enough for holly to consider her a close friend.

blondie is not your typical perfect character like so many of the cast is, but that's a good thing because if she was then she would just be another background character to forget about. she has her own personality and she has her own interests, she is one of the most neurodivergent coded characters in the series.

did i mention this girl has to be a woman enjoyer? because i swear she has to be- at some point she has to realize that maybe her extreme pickiness when it comes to boys is less about that individual not being just right but instead boys as a whole not being just right for her. do i need to show the heart eyes picture again?

[pumpkinsy0]

What's Going On in Haiti Rn

tldr: barbeque (leader of revolutionary gang, isnt a cannibal btw) says hes trying to liberate Haiti to free the oppressed groups in Haiti from not only the rich ppl who live in Haiti but also from imperialism so Haiti can get better, but moving along from that, theres canals being built in Haiti so Haitians can actually make their own food and won’t rely in others

alright, I’m making this post, not only because I dont see many people talking about it, but also because they just aren't really telling the exact full story and theyre only using what the western media is saying and not really using any haitian sources or anything like that, for this post Im NOT picking sides or anything of the sort, I just want people to be more aware of what's actually going on in haiti

so where all of this gang stuff is going down is in the CAPITAL of Haiti, this isn't going on all across the country, everything really violent is happening in PORT AU PRINCE. As you know, there's this man called Barbecue who is essentially running Port Au Prince with his gang or group or whatever you want to call it, no Barbecue didn't get his name because he's a cannibal or anything like that, he got it because his mom would sell bbq chicken for people in his neighborhood. The cannibal claims that were going all around on social media was spread by alt right twitter users like elon musk and some other famous alt right twitter users.

NOW when it comes to the gangs in Haiti, what Barbecue is trying to do is "liberate this country, once and for all"(in his own words not mines), and he's done that by trying to bring together all the past gangs of Haiti and they've formed this one big group called "Revolutionary Forces of the G9 Family and Allies" or I'll just call them G9, and now they control 80% of Port Au Prince and many civilians themselves who live in poverty and terrible conditions are with them because they just want a life with rights to healthcare, education, and housing, things that are hard to get because of politicians and rich people oppressing them and taking away their resources and forcing them to live with the scraps. Another group of people who's followed him is this group of men he's broke out of jail. In this jail as far as I know, these people were never actually given trials or anything and they as well were forced into terrible living conditions with, lack of food, space, that kinda thing. When it comes to G9 getting the prime minister, Ariel Henry, to step down, the reason why they wanted him to step down (as far as i remember) was because he just pushing the election for a new president back and back each time, and people were/are under the impression that he just wanted to get more power. On top of that Ariel Henry was NEVER SWORN INTO HIS POSITION. Plus, after the Haitian president's assassination in 2021, INSTEAD of working with Haitian civil society groups that were open to give solutions to fix the situation, the US, Canada, France, and other places, put their trust into Ariel Henry, and saw him as the connection to the Haitian public. Henry is not well liked by the public of Haiti and he is now not in Haiti and is in Puerto Rico, essentially exiled from Haiti. Now dont take this as me putting Barbecue in this shining light, he did use to be a police officer, and he has closed off Port Au Prince from the rest of the country and people are finding it hard to get food, water, go to school, and much much more, Im just laying out what's happening and his goal as he says it. If you want more info, watch some interviews Barbeque has done.

When it come to the US intervening or ANY country for that matter intervening is because in the past, forcing interventions in haiti has only led to worse. There was terrible treatment to the citizens and they stole money, their only way of intervening was literally through weapons against innocent civilians. Many haitians do NOT want any country, especially the US coming near them AT ALL because theyre are scared for what theyre going to do to them and their livelihoods, and you can't blame them one bit, the US is quite literally a genocidal empire who only looks out for itself.

ON SOME MORE BRIGHTER NEWS, idk if you heard, but theres this canal thats close to being finished, that will allow Haitian farmers to grow and make their own foods so Haiti wont have to rely on other places of getting stuff like rice!! The canal gets water from the massacre river however, Dominican politicians dont like that and are claiming that the canal will weaken the water supply of the river, despite the DR having like 11 canals using the river and Haiti has 1 (the one being built rn). To slow down the water flow going into the canal, Dominican officals have these pumps that are constantly flowing to take away water from the canal, however the canal is still able to flow a good amount of water into Haiti, to Haitian farmers :)

on top of that, Haitian farmers in another part of Haiti has gotten inspired to take action to make their OWN canal (that has NOTHING to do with the massacre river before yall start) and are currently making their own canal so they can have water so WOOOO🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹

anyways pls share and make sure to listen to Haitian voices and media to understand whats going on, dont use media from the same niggas that assisted a Dominican dictator that committed a Haitian genocide :P

to learn more about whats going on theres this Haitian news source called Haiti Liberte that discusses whats going on in Haiti and they have a documentary on youtube that goes more in depth with Barbeque and his ideas/wants and some Haitian citizens

as for the canals, on tik tok theres this woman whos been at the forefront of it all, discussing whats going on with the canals, giving updates, and shes actually in Haiti, and you can see the canals for yourself, her @ is @bertrhude