#I want to live...but it's the parasite's turn to work out survival

[the-weeping-dawn]

*Takes the treat of how under developed the illithid powers especially the whole concept of partial ceremorphosis was and runs well past all logic*

[mocchiixxx]

Love or Legacy Series| #7 : Unwritten Melodies

(Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Reader)

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Idol AU

⚠️ WARNING: This is story is purely work of fiction. It does not reflect real-life events or SEVENTEEN in any way. This episode contains heavy angst, emotional distress, and themes of heartbreak and sacrifice. Reader discretion is advised. Please take care of yourself while reading.

Summary: When Jihoon's relationship is exposed, the backlash is brutal. Fans turn against him, and the company offers him a choice—his love or his career. Forced to make the ultimate sacrifice, Jihoon chooses to protect you the only way he knows how. But when the dust settles and he’s left alone with his music, he realizes too late—some songs are never meant to be finished.

Jihoon had never been the type to believe in fate.

He believed in hard work, in long nights spent inside a studio, in melodies built from countless revisions. Love was something that happened in the spaces between, accidental, unplanned, and far too fragile for the life he lived.

But then you happened.

And for the first time, Jihoon found himself composing songs with a name hidden in every lyric.

For the first time, he wanted to believe that love was something he could have.

Until the world reminded him that idols weren’t meant to love.

And that love, no matter how deep, could never survive under a spotlight.

It started with a rumor.

A blurry photo of two figures walking too close, an analysis of matching accessories, a thread speculating every moment he had slipped up.

Then came the hate.

'He lied to us.' 'If he really loved his fans, he wouldn’t be dating.''He was caught wearing a matching bracelets as her' 'This is so disappointing. I can’t support him anymore.'

And the worst...

'Bet she was in this for fame and money.'

'She’s ruining his career.'

You became the villain overnight.

They dug into your life, pulled apart every post, every interaction, twisted everything until you became a parasite, someone who had latched onto him for fame.

The messages flooded in; threats, insults, strangers demanding that you disappear. Your name trended for all the wrong reasons. The places you once found comfort in became suffocating.

And Jihoon saw it all.

He saw the pain in your eyes when you read the comments. He saw the way you hesitated before stepping outside, as if the world had turned into something dangerous. He saw how you tried to hide it, tried to smile and tell him it would pass.

But it wouldn’t.

And that’s why he had to end it. The company didn't have to step in because he already know what's has to be done.

You met him in his studio that night, the place that had always been yours.

But something was different.

Jihoon was standing in the middle of the room, hands clenched into fists, eyes dark with something unreadable. The air was thick with words unsaid.

You stepped forward, heart pounding. “Jihoon, what’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked past you, as if memorizing the moment before shattering it.

Then he exhaled sharply. “We need to break up.”

The words hit harder than any hateful comment ever could.

Your breath caught. “No.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s the only way.”

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head, voice trembling. “We can get through this. You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You took a step toward him. “Jihoon, we can figure this out. We always do.”

Not this time.Not when loving him meant ruining you.

“I won’t let them destroy you.” His voice wavered, and he hated himself for it.

“You don’t deserve this.” Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Then don’t do this. Please.” you begged weakly.

“I already made up my mind. All this happening was making my head hurts.” he spoke in a cold voice. “I'm getting annoyed by all of it.” his voiced is like a dagger thrown straight to your heart.

For the first time since he met you, Jihoon turned his back on you. Because if he looked at you any longer, he would break.

There was no hesitation in his voice. Just a quiet finality that made your chest ache.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. “Jihoon, please don’t do this.”

His eyes finally met yours. And for a second, you saw the truth, saw the war raging inside him, the love he was trying to bury under the weight of the choice he had to make.

Then he looked away.

“It was never supposed to be serious.”

The world tilted. An audible surprised gasp leave your lips at that.

“What?” Your voice barely came out.

“This. Us.” His words were precise, each syllable cutting deeper. “It was just… a distraction.”

A lie.

A cruel, calculated lie.

Your throat burned. “You don’t mean that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

It did. It mattered more than anything.

You wanted to scream at him, shake him, make him admit that he was doing this to protect you. But you also knew Jihoon, he knew that when he decided something, there was no changing his mind.

So you took a breath, forcing yourself to stay steady.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His expression didn’t change, but his hands trembled at his sides.

You stepped back, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I hope… your career is worth it.”

Then you turned and walked away.

And Jihoon let you go.

The next morning, the official statement was released.

'We regret to inform you that Lee Jihoon (Woozi) was involved in a personal matter that has caused distress among fans. After careful discussion, both parties have decided to part ways, acknowledging that certain relationships can interfere with professional obligations. Moving forward, we ask for fans’ continued support as Woozi's dedicates himself fully to his career.'

No mention of love. No acknowledgment of the pain. Just a cold, clinical dismissal of everything you had been to each other.

And just like that, the storm passed.

The fans forgave him. His name cleared. The world moved on.

But Jihoon didn’t.

He drowned himself in work, filled his days with schedules, filled his nights with unfinished songs. He convinced himself it was for the best.

But then he sat in his studio, staring at the empty chair across from him, fingers frozen above the piano keys.

And for the first time in his life...

Lee Jihoon had nothing left to write.

[bakukatsuki]

— i will always find you.

pairing: katsuki bakugo x f!reader contains: no NSFW, no quirks, minor gore (blood n zombies obv), angst but a happy ending, kissing, aged up, & no manga spoilers.

★ ! zombie apocalyspe. a few months after graduating high school and now in college about to finish your second semester when all of a sudden the society you once lived in turned into an outbreak. you find yourself searching for supplies to survive until you meet someone after going solo.

author note: this is SUPER long but ive always had a spot for whenever I come across someone's work and it's based off of the zombie apocalypse so I decided to finally write my own. please enjoy reading! ‧₊˚✩彡

it wasn't supposed to be like this. you were supposed to be in your college class like any other regular day, going to grab a coffee with friends or studying for your next exam until the world has done a complete turnaround. you always thought it would only happen in movies, joking around with your friends if a zombie apocalypse were to happen until it became a reality.

the virus was quick to get people turning them into lifeless parasites. the zombie apocalypse had become a reality. you remembered the screams of your friends who tried to defend one another when the campus started to flood with zombies. standing in your place too scared to do anything as you watched all of your friends either crying for help or screaming at you to run.

and you ran. you didn't look back as you held back tears and prayed for your friends as you ran off campus to your parent's house. grabbing your keys from your pocket you unlocked the door before slamming the door shut. you shut your eyes as you heard screams going on outside. shaking your head, you called out for your parents as you ran around the house before running upstairs.

standing there as your keys fell from your fingers to the ground you read the letter they had left you in their room. they left without you and told you that they had gone north to go see your older brother who was in the military for safety. it didn't feel real. you knew you didn't have the best relationship with your parents as they always favored your older brother the moment you were born but you didn't know you were that unworthy to them that they had left you behind to see your brother.

but that was approximately 121 days ago which means it's been four months since the outbreak started and its been four months since you've been alone. you stayed at your house for a month before the area got too populated with these lifeless parasites. you had to leave. packing your bag with all the essentials you needed and left without looking back.

you didn't know where to go but north. although you didn't want to see your parents for abandoning you back at home the moment the world started crashing down. you wanted to see your brother. he was your best friend from day one and he was the only reason for you to keep fighting every day, traumatizing yourself with constant fear of having to fight for your life every day.

here you are now, packing a few items to bring with you as you set off for an expedition for supplies. you had found a place that seemed safe for now before finding another place to crash at.

heading your way to the pharmacy you had found while finding the place you slowly peeked inside, examining the store to make sure the place was clear before entering. holding one hand near your back pocket where you had your knife you looked through the aisles, grabbing a few things such as snacks and bandages before you heard a noise from the entrance you came from.

you held your breath as you looked over the shelf, seeing a tall, slim but built blonde enter the pharmacy. your hand grabbed onto your knife as you watched his every move before accidentally leaning onto the shelf and causing a noise. seeing as he looked in your direction you held your breath as you hid behind the shelf.

''come out with your hands in the air,'' he spoke. his voice was somewhat deep but raspy. ''what are you doing here.'' you asked, standing your ground behind the shelf as you heard slow footsteps coming closer your way. ''i'm not gonna hurt you, idiot. I'm here for supplies like you are but it seems like either there was nothing or your ass took everything.'' you inhaled deeply as his voice got closer.

''do not come closer. i-i have a weapon!'' you mentally cursed to yourself for stuttering as you tried to sound intimidating. you heard him chuckle before he came around the corner of the shelf and stared at you. you gasped, moving back as you held your knife out to him. ''i'm not scared to use this on you.'' he rolled his eyes as he looked at you from top to bottom. ''you wouldn-'' he stopped as you both turned your head to the entrance.

a herd of zombies was heading your way. ''shit, they might've heard us.'' the blonde cursed to himself before grabbing your hand and running to the back exit. ''what do you think you're doing?!'' though, you didn't retract your hand away from his. he continued holding onto your hand as he got the both of you away from there. ''just saved both of our asses, you idiot!''

the two of you ran near the place you had been staying. ''well, thanks but I didn't need your help.'' you said before looking at his hand still holding onto your hand. ''oh, sorry..'' he mumbled before letting go.

''bakugo.'' you gave him a look. ''what?'' he deeply sighed, ''my name is bakugo now are you gonna tell me yours?'' you stared at him for a second before telling him your name.

and that was the last time you saw bakugo. after running into each other you for some reason decided to trust him enough to bring him to your hideout that you've been crashing at. the two of you decided to stick together after that. a solid two months of just being the two of you. you had told him that you were going north to see if you could find your parents and brother who were most likely at the military base and surprisingly he was heading in the same direction too.

you've developed feelings for him. you never thought you would after everything that had happened to the world. not thinking it was possible to do or feel human things that you felt back then until now. the two of you had gotten close and soon opened up to each other about what happened or what you were doing before the virus crashed upon earth. you learned that he was attending a college not too far from yours and was studying for an exam in the college library on campus before a student started acting out and launching themself onto another student. he didn't tell you much about his friends or family and you didn't wanna push it.

its been a month without him. the two of you have moved to a different location as you both continued to travel up north until you two went on an expedition for food when a herd of zombies was heading your guy’s way, too many the both of you can handle. that was when he had yelled at you to go back to your guy's hideout as he distracted the herd to the opposite way, promising you that he'd find you. you refused to leave his side, crying for him not to and to just run with you. you couldn't lose another person.

he held your hand before bringing you into his arms. ''I promise I'll find you, I'll always find you,'' he reassured you before placing his lips onto yours. you melted into the moment the two of you had before he pushed you away, yelling at you him not to look back.

for the entirety of the one month without bakugo you had decided to give him a day before heading out to find him just to come back empty-handed. you had stopped crying yourself to sleep, reminding yourself that he wouldn't go down so easily until you had decided to listen to what he had told you and headed north but not before leaving a note behind if one day he showed up.

here you are traveling solo once again as you continue to count the days from the last time you saw bakugo. it wasn’t the same anymore. although you looked for food and supplies you had gotten thinner. it was starting to get colder as winter was heading its way. you were tired and starved. you felt as if you couldn’t make it anymore but the hope of being reunited with bakugo was the only hope you had to keep going.

your vision had started to blur. you were thirsty for water. from a distance, you can picture a place, no, a base perhaps? you couldn't think anymore before you landed on the ground unconscious.

-

you wake up confused. your eyes blinking to regain their vision before seeing that you're in a room. 'it's warm' you thought, sitting up before feeling your head pound. you must've hit your head pretty hard. you tried remembering how you got here but nothing seemed to come to mind. as you were about to remove the sheets off of you and wander off to find someone the door opened and you were met with those familiar crimson eyes you missed so much.

''baku-'' before you could even say his name you were engulfed in his arms. ''you're alive..'' you heard him mumble against your neck as his arms tightened around you as if he was scared to lose you again. he moved slightly to take a good look at you, looking to see if you were hurt and letting out a sigh of relieved to know that you were okay. ''where have you been..'' you asked, your voice cracking as your eyes slightly watered from seeing him again.

''i thought i was never *hiccup* going to see you again..'' he shook his head as he sat on the bed near you, not letting you go. ''i was going to come back but the herd drained everything out of me and i lost consciousness before i could get back to you before waking up in the same room. i tried to leave before realizing this was a safe place for you if i found you, for us'' your tears fell as you continued to listen to him, nodding and smiling when he wiped your tears with his thumb with a slight smile of reassurance. ''i guess you found me instead'' he said as he chuckled. he still couldn't believe that you were alive and here with him.

''but i promise you, y/n. i will always find you and that's a promise.'' you believed him of course. as the two of you sat in comfortable silence you looked around the room again. ''where are we?'' you asked before he replied, ''we're in a safe place, a really safe place. we're at the military base that we both wanted to find. your brother is here and so are your parents.'' you gasped, ''my family is here?'' he nodded. ''rest up, i promise you'll see them.'' you laid back comfortably in bed as you still held his hands, enjoying the feeling of being back with bakugo.

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART ONE

i think you're past the point of saving.

together we might survive.

get me out of this damn thing.

we have no time for stragglers.

do you intend to die for a stranger?

i thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin.

you keep dangerous company.

we can watch each other's backs along the way.

enough of this chatter.

who put you in charge?

i'll trust my own judgement.

a miracle, given everything you've been through.

it'll all be for nothing if you don't find help soon.

you're alive. i'm alive. how is this possible?

seems like we're the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.

anything's an improvement on where we just came from.

'we'? you want to stay together?

we need each other.

i can't think of better company.

i wanted to thank you again.

you should be furious, shouldn't you?

kill it yourself — you look capable enough.

i was hoping for a kind soul.

let's try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece.

no need for this to get messy.

i need her alive.

and to think i was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.

please, allow me to introduce myself.

of course it'll turn me into a monster.

you should travel with me.

our odds are better together.

i was ready to go this alone.

maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea.

you seem like a useful person to know.

let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.

no harm in a little mystery.

conversation shouldn't be made, it should be grown.

maybe i'd like to get to know you better.

i'm usually better at this.

couldn't have phrased it more repellently myself.

you don't happen to be a cleric, by any chance? a doctor, surgeon? uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?

it's not exactly a common affliction.

a parasite shared is a parasite halved.

you're both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone.

no point getting killed.

second worm gets the cheese and all.

nobody's getting any damn cheese.

she obviously sees your kindness as weakness.

don't let her take advantage.

a simply 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss.

your friends abandoned you.

i've got plenty of friends who aren't soft.

let's just hope she reserves those impulses for any common foes.

what a curious way to awaken.

what is the worth of a single mortal's life?

something the matter?

you must have thoughts about our little stowaways.

thinking about it won't help.

i suppose we'd go our separate ways — not a slight on your company, of course.

no reason for us to not stay together if we get on well.

if we do survive, we'll have separate lives to return to.

let's just say it's a very person, very private acquaintance.

you're not the kind of company i'd keep willingly.

perhaps i'll return the favor at some point.

she's delightful, in a very 'look at me twice and i'll dismember you' kind of way.

i understand much beyond your comprehension.

you'd do well to observe more and question less.

and they didn't cut you from navel to neck?

i am still getting used to people like you.

that large, fleshy nose of yours looks like a mistake.

best to keep quiet, lest any drivel leak from your lips.

i do not intend to stay long in this place.

may your actions express the same mettle.

anomalies lead to surprises.

what hasn't happened may yet come to pass.

not a collaboration i'd have anticipated.

can't you tell me something real about you?

i have a great respect for privacy, especially my own.

i have a very disciplined mind.

those tricks won't work on me.

please don't try that again unless i invite you to.

we meet again, as predicted.

care to explain why you're helping me?

what kind of services can a skeleton offer?

a monster forms inside us, and you care to be idle?

i knew your kind to be fragile.

don't you know an exhausted warrior is an ineffective one?

it's a thickheaded notion in a complex circumstance.

what were you two talking about?

if that was any of your business, we'd have called you over.

your business is mine.

we're entwined.

if we're to survive, we need to trust each other.

you seem reliable.

we're overdue some good fortune.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Dom! Reader, sub! Donna

Reader is a new maid/butler working for Donna who is secretly a vampire(not like the dimitrescu but different like she can survive any climate). She wears contact lense to hide her red eyes from her. Donna is unaware of all of this and continues to her things. Reader can smell her blood and she's obsessed with it. One time couldn't take it anymore, during night time she goes to her mistress' bed. Donna woke up seeing her standing in the middle of the night with her red eyes and she's terrified. Reader proceeds to drink her blood, she is savouring all of it so it was a slow process. Donna felt her blood draining and she's losing consciousness there's also tears in her eyes at this point. Donna didn't stop her but rather let her continue, the truth is that she's been in love with reader for quite sometime but is afraid to approach and even confess. Now she wanted to please her by making her drink her blood, maybe she'll love her as well. Reader stop drinking and looks at the semi conscious Donna, with all of her strength Donna proceeds to kiss her and then fainted. Reader felt guilty and took care of her until she woke up 3 days later. Reader apologised for what she did to her that night and they kiss.

Note: can you follow the story if it's ok with you, if not it's okay as well.

Happy ending plss

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Red eyes, red like blood

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Vampire! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, blood, reader POV

Word count: 7.540

Summary: She can't know I'm a monster....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

She is not a suitable vessel for Eva…

Those were the first words I heard when I woke up from a dream that seemed eternal. I remember the golden glow of that mask, I remember being at the mercy of the priestess Mother Miranda.

I can't remember how I got there and what happened. I only remember the thirst, the hunger, my heart beating strangely.

After all, I was just a naughty girl who had a penchant for entering the dark places of the village. My parents always said that the Black Gods would punish me for my insolence. They were right.

I couldn't say if it was a punishment, or a gift, as the witch told me after talking about complicated technicalities, about parasites that I didn't understand. I could be clear about one thing. I was no longer the same.

 (Y/N) had changed, forever.

The mirror made me understand that great change, the red eyes that shone terrifyingly on my face were no longer mine, but from that moment on, they would never stop being mine. My skin turned pale, my head ached with every sound that was heard in that old laboratory. The thirst was unbearable.

“What am I, Mother Miranda?”  I asked the woman with the golden mask, that kind of living legend that led the village, that emissary of the Black Gods we had to venerate. The woman looked at me out of the corner of her eye, trying to write something on a piece of paper.

I couldn't make out the letters, I couldn't know what was written on that note, I could only look at her hands, those pale hands that let her veins be seen, the places where her blood flowed.

I got nervous. I fidgeted and tried to move. It was in vain, I was tied up.

“I suppose you're thirsty,” the witch murmured with disinterest.

I nodded, noticing how my lips cracked, how my body longed to fill that horrible emptiness.

“Mother Miranda… Could you… Give me a glass of water?” I asked with a broken voice. The blonde smiled and shook her head, searching for something among her belongings.

I didn't know what horrible things were in that place, I could only see her blood flowing through her body, my eyes never leaving every inch of her pale skin.

“I don't think that's what you want, (Y/N),” she whispered, extending a glass with a thick, red liquid towards me, one that made my eyes focus on it, my hands untie themselves from their bonds to reach it.

“Gods… What?” I said confused, looking at the already empty glass, flooding my mouth with that characteristic ferrous taste, the taste of blood.

“Better?” she asked, pushing that delicious liquid away from me. The thirst subsided and my mind cleared.

What had I become?

Miranda tried unsuccessfully to talk to me about what had happened, about the things that had happened to my body. I soon realized. I stopped listening to her scientific explanations.

I was always a great reader, a lover of mystery, of creatures of the night. It didn't matter what I called it, it didn't matter what kind of disease had taken hold of me. Only one word echoed in my mind, a terrifying word that repeated itself over and over again: Vampire.

Drinking blood, immortality, heightened senses. It was that disgusting mushroom, but what mattered was what I had become. I was a vampire, and I would be forever.

Luckily, or unfortunately, the priestess didn't see a threat in me. She didn't see the danger in my eyes, the way I looked at the veins on her neck. She simply let me go.

“What will I eat, Mother Miranda?”

“You can eat whatever you want, but if you want to live, you need blood.”

“Won't I die in the sunlight?”

“You're not a vampire, (Y/N).”

It was a lie. I was, there was nothing else I could be.

“What’s going to happen with me, Mother Miranda?”

Her hidden gaze darkened at that last question, as if she really didn't care but at the same time she was wisely pondering her decision, my destiny.

“Have you ever worked as a maid, (Y/N)?” she asked, with a sinister smile, one that even made a creature of the night like me shudder.

And so, after a time I couldn't calculate, my life became a hunt, trips to the forest in search of small animals to feed on.

She let me go, but assured me that I would return once I learned to control myself. According to her, there was something I could do, a mission for me, a job that would allow me to stay away from the village, but at the same time, close to her.

One witch, four Lords. That was the level of power in my old village.

My friends dreamed, fantasized about obtaining the grace of the Gods and serving one of them. Not me, they terrified me. But, now turned into a monster like them, now under the control of the owner of that place, my purpose, the task that was entrusted to me in that second and eternal life, was to serve, to serve a Lord, the veiled lady in black, Donna Beneviento.

According to Miranda, she was the youngest of the Lords, she was sick, she was erratic and lonely. For a newborn monster like me, it was the perfect place, a secluded place, surrounded by forest to be able to feed, a place to live in the shadows, just like the doll maker.

“Mother Miranda sends you, you say?” that sinister puppet, the Angie doll asked.

Lady Beneviento was sitting in front of me, with that puppet on her lap asking a thousand questions, making me believe that my presence was not welcome. It seemed the lady didn’t even know about my nature and I could not blame her.

In a last act of mercy, Miranda gave me some strange objects, ones that hid the reddish color of my eyes. I could ask her many things, but I didn’t want to.

Why not tell her daughter what I was?

Why her?

No, no question made sense. No question was going to fix my transformation. There was nothing that could cure me.

Vampire

“Yes, my lady,”  I said kindly, feeling strangely comfortable in that place, thinking that maybe being a maid wouldn’t be that bad, even if I was the maid of what all the villagers said was a monster.

“Why would Miranda send someone like you? We don't want maids,” the doll said, with a different tone, darker, the distorted voice of Lady Beneviento, you were sure.

“I don’t question Mother Miranda, my lady,” I said, lowering my head in respect.

 I was still afraid. I still trembled to have a woman like her in front of me. I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel her fear, her rejection, was it another ability?

“Mm,” a different voice that came out of that black veil murmured, while the doll lowered to the floor and the lady stood up, approaching me slowly.

I was nervous, could she feel how nervous I was?

“There is something weird about you...” she whispered with a hoarse, melodic voice, being close, too close to me, as if she was trying to observe me, as if the mere fact of meeting me was already warning her that I was a monster.

“Weird, weird!” the doll shrieked, her voice getting louder, approaching my almost frozen figure with clumsy steps.

“I, I guess we all have something strange inside us,” I said, downplaying her suspicions, making a vague and clumsy attempt at joking.

Something that was not a good idea.

“Are you laughing at me?” the lady asked, with an aggressive tone, standing up to reaffirm her position in front of me, a simple villager, a villager who wasn’t what it seemed.

“No, my lady, why would I do that?” I asked letting my new instincts to run away, not occupy my mind. Everything, the smells, the sounds, everything was overwhelming for my head.

“Tell me, (Y/N), why would Mother Miranda choose you to be my maid?” the lady asked, moving away, as if something had scared her.

 Maybe it was my nervous breathing or maybe she could see the darkness inside me.

“I don't know, my lady,” I said with a muffled voice, broken by my desire to attack, to run, to let out that stress by hunting again, far from that place.

“You’re lying,” she whispered, coming closer again, clouding my senses with her floral perfume, one that almost made me dizzy.

“Lying, lying!” the squeaky Angie repeated.

“Start talking, villager, tell me why you're here,” the lady in black demanded, moving away again, making her dress dance in an almost hypnotic way.

“I… Well, I…” I stammered, searching in my head for a way to keep the secret.

Yes, I was a monster now, but that didn't mean I wanted Miranda's golden claws to pierce my heart.

“I wanted to, I wanted to steal something valuable from her,” -I said, being completely sincere. After all, that's what I snuck into that cave for. I was never a friend of the law, even if it was the law of a sinister and supernatural cult. “Mother Miranda caught me and… Well, she condemned me to serve you, my lady.”

“Uh-huh,” the lady said, with disinterest, moving impatiently. “Serving me is a sentence for you, then.”

“Yes, I mean, no,” I said quickly, confused and nervous. “I'm just, I'm just trying to redeem myself from my sins.”

“I see…” she whispered, indicating to the puppet to stop harassing you with its sinister gaze. “Upstairs, you will stay there,” she said after a few seconds of tension.

“Thank you, my lady, you won’t regret it, my lady,” I said happy to have been able to comply with Miranda's demands.

Yes, I was happy to have pleased her, why? I didn’t want to think about it.

“Make me some tea and shut up, your voice is annoying me,” my new lady ordered, not wanting to waste any more time with me. Once again, I couldn’t blame her.

“Well…” I murmured to myself, watching the lady walk away, disappearing into the darkness of that mansion. “How nice…”

Sighing, calming my nerves, I climbed the indicated stairs, staying for a moment, paralyzed, looking at the portrait hanging on the wall.

It looked like the lady in black, the doll gave her away. She was a truly beautiful woman, with pale skin and bright, cold eyes. Questions came back to my head as I looked at the stoic pose of that woman.

Why are you covering yourself?

“What are you looking at?” a voice asked behind me, one that startled me. I turned around, putting myself in an involuntary attack stance.

Lady Beneviento, who was mysteriously watching me from the bottom of the stairs, stepped back upon hearing the small hiss that escaped my lips.

“My lady,” I said to reassure myself, hiding my hands, which already revealed horrible claws coming out of my nails. “I was, I was looking at the painting.”

“Why? Why?” Angie asked, in the arms of her owner.

“Because… I was curious,” I whispered, letting the truth come out on its own, allowing sincerity to appease those sudden urges to kill.

“Curiosity…” the lady began, with a mysterious tone, bringing one of her hands to the black cloth that covered her face, pulling it away, letting me see that familiar face, the face of the portrait, deformed by a horrible scar.

“…Killed the cat,” I finished, with a thread of voice, surprised to see the face that nobody knew. I could think she was a monster, but I didn't, I thought she was… Simply beautiful.

“Do you have something to say?” she asked with an annoyed voice, with her only eye shining with hatred, nervous, dangerous.

“No, my lady,” I denied with the most sincere voice possible, letting the first impression of her beauty speak for me.

“Tea, ora,” she murmured, relaxing her posture, without stopping looking at me, staring that beautiful gaze into mine.

“Yes, my lady,” I answered with a bow, relieved by the sound of the heels on the wood, by seeing that dark shadow disappear again.

I didn't start off particularly well in that house. Everything was dark, strange, disturbing...

I couldn't stop thinking about what was wrong with that woman, why she seemed so strong, and at the same time her gestures betrayed fragility. That curiosity that began to thrill me was unhealthy, dangerous, only increased at the same time as my hunger, my thirst.

During the day, I was just a maid: washing clothes, cooking, cleaning, nothing worth mentioning. Many of those days, I didn't even coincide with the lady in black.

Was she avoiding me? She possibly was.

She was a Lord, she wasn't just any woman. It wasn't just any house.

At night, my wild side appeared. I couldn't feed myself during the day, I couldn't. I had to take advantage of the fact that the sun didn't illuminate the bright eyes that hid behind a couple of strange objects.

When the darkness was not just a metaphor, and the forest was quiet, I took advantage of the opportunity to run, to hunt animals, to quench the horrible thirst I suffered during the day.

Maid by day, monster by night. If I had been luckier in life, I would surely have written something about it.

Time passed, my thirst was quenched. There was nothing strange in my life, there was nothing that made me think about Miranda's motives for sending me to that house. Donna was never there, Donna didn’t exist. She was a ghostly, elusive presence.

But even so, little by little she got used to my presence, to not using her hands to point out something she wanted, to using her voice without using irony, without showing me again and again that I was a simple nuisance.

“(Y/N),” a voice woke me from my involuntary dream, from my nightmares in which the color red occupied each of the places my mind visited.

“Ah!” I screamed, moving defensively, with the unpleasant sting of those lenses burning my eyes. It was her, the lady in black, who had unconsciously placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to sit up abruptly.

She stepped back, frightened by my reaction. Discreetly, I looked for some sign of my nature that would have given me away. I didn't seem to have any claws and those annoying lenses were still burning my eyes. I had simply been scared.

“Oh, I... I... It's, it's true, the tea, I...” I said hurriedly, trying to forget those red nightmares, ones that reminded me of how thirsty I was.

“No, wait,” she whispered, lowering her gaze, playing with her nervous hands. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Have I done something wrong?” I asked, controlling my breathing, trying not to look at the lady's neck, one that at certain hours of the afternoon became tempting.

“No, I... I wanted to ask you some questions, if it's okay with you,” she said with a soft, elegant voice, letting her hands go of in that nervous way, not daring to look me in the eyes.

“Questions? Yes, yes of course,” I said, still confused, with the red still tinting my field of vision, with my lady's floral perfume making a dent in my thoughts.

“Va bene,” she whispered, sitting on the other side of the sofa, not letting me see her bright eye, one in which sometimes, just sometimes, I lost myself. Nervous, she cleared her throat and sighed. “You weren't in your bed last night.”

“No,” I said, frowning. A dangerous statement, a phrase that I already knew, that I didn't want to contextualize, I didn't want to explain why.

“That's not a question, my lady,” I joked, hoping that this small, minuscule increase in confidence between the two of us would serve to relax the inevitable tension in the environment.

“I know,” she said, without laughing, without smiling. “I've been trying to talk to you for several nights and you're never here,” she explained in a serious tone, with her hands playing nervously in her lap again.

“Talk to me?” I asked strangely, placing myself on the sofa, avoiding a hungry hiss from slipping through my lips.

“I'm the one who asks the questions,” she said, with a stern tone, with a cold, almost angry expression.

“You're not asking them, my lady,” I murmured, with an amused smile, relaxing her breathing with my words.

Again, she didn't understand my desire to make her smile, to discover that smile that I had once imagined was as beautiful as I thought.

“Where do you go at night?” she asked, looking away.

I was always a funny girl, and, to be honest, I had to be thankful because my transformation didn't erase that aspect of my personality.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” I asked back, with an amused look, with a light in my smile that hid the fervent darkness that burned in my guts.

“Forget it,” the lady sighed, getting up with a furious gasp, muttering words that I was unable to understand.

I immediately regretted my attitude, getting up and grabbing her wrist. She froze.

“I'm, I'm sorry,” I said with a soft voice. “I didn't mean to make you nervous.”

Yes, I knew her attacks, her crises, the problems that darkened her mind. Little by little, I began, unintentionally, to find similarities between her and me, too many.

“You're very good at that,” she whispered, with a mocking, ironic smile, one that wasn't even half as beautiful as I imagined. That smile wasn't worth it to me, I wanted a real one.

“I guess I’m that way,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Lady Beneviento shook her head and turned away, gently removing her hand from mine, as if she didn't want to do so.

“I should have imagined that a thief like you would be that shameless,” she murmured, with a different tone, strangely amused.

“I've stopped stealing,” I sighed, remembering that my actions were the ones responsible for that thirst that was getting worse little by little.

“Really?” she asked distrustfully, studying my gaze, my gestures and the tremors with which my body asked for me to drink. “So tell me, where do you go at night?”

“To the forest,” I answered too quickly, slowly losing control of my actions, looking again at my lady's neck, at that beautiful neck… I shook my head to stop my impulses and smiled in a false, fake way.

“To the forest,” the lady repeated, with her eyebrow arched. “The forest is dangerous at night.”

“Not for me,” I said, clenching my hands tightly for letting out those mysterious statements that would surely give rise to more questions.

“I see,” she whispered, moving nervously, moving away from me, as if she were afraid of me, as if, deep down, she knew who, what I am.

“What did you want to tell me?” I asked, thus breaking another of the hundreds of tense moments like that.

“I… I wanted, I wanted to apologize,” she finally said, daring to look into my false eyes, ones that seemed innocent.

I didn't answer, I just kept my face of ironic surprise and nodded slowly, letting her continue, if she wanted to continue.

“I know that... I didn't treat you well at the beginning,” she said, with a voice so low that it was increasingly similar to a whisper. “Um, understand me, I've been... I've been alone for a long time and...”

“I understand, calm down, I know it's not easy to deal with a change in your life,” I said, putting on that tone of an understanding girl, one that unintentionally revealed my own worries.

The sun was setting and my throat hurt from thirst. She was too close to me.

“Well, thank you, I, wanted, wanted to thank you for being here with me,” she whispered again, getting a little closer, letting me see her delicious neck better.

I had to shake my head again.

“You, you're welcome, I'm… Well, to be with you is not bad at all, even if you come at night to say kind words to me,” I joked, taking a small step back. Finally, I could finally see that smile.

“During the day I'm usually busy,” she explained without me asking her, without that beautiful smile fading from her face.

“I’m busy at night,” I said, shrugging, holding my hand discreetly so it would stop shaking.

“I guess then we'll never meet,” she said amused, taking a step forward, the step I took back, the step I needed to get away from her. I was too thirsty.

“It’s a shame, I like meeting you, my lady,” I said softly, breathing deeply.

Her face relaxed, but she didn't lose her smile, she simply reached out her hand to my cheek, her eye focused on mine.

She was thoughtful.  I could hear her blood flowing through her veins, a comforting, but dangerous sound.

“Donna, stop with the my lady thing,” she whispered in a timid voice, before her hand brushed my skin, moving away with a shy smile and quickly, giving me one last mysterious look.

“Donna...” I sighed, still intoxicated by her floral perfume, by her hair, by her hands...

It was time to hunt.

That conversation was a turning point. Our routine remained the same but with small changes. Smiles were much more common, the time we spent together was longer, the conversations more interesting.

My mind was always weak to beauty and little by little I became obsessed with hers. Falling in love is an easy task, but being a monster in love is not that easy. Despite my approaches, something about me continued to scare her, as if that lack of confidence was still part of the environment.

Cooking, cleaning, spending time with Donna, hunting, eating, drinking, sleeping, starting over.

My new and cursed life wasn't bad at all, after all.

“Did you never learn?” the lady in black asked.

It was one quiet morning when I was keeping her company in the old workshop. As I said before, those encounters stopped being coincidences. It didn't matter if she was looking for me, or if I was the one who wanted to see her.

“Mm, not really,” I said amused, shrugging as I saw the lady working on her dolls and looking at me accusingly for not knowing how to sew.

“How strange, normally villagers like you are born almost knowing those things,” she said, concentrating on a fabric she was sewing slowly, with an almost hypnotic skill.

“Oh, of course, so I could sew the stinky clothes of a fat-ass husband, right? How predictable,”  I said jokingly, but with an internal resentment that reflected the slight annoyance those words caused.

“I didn't say that, I just said that I find it strange,” she said, with a more serious tone, stopping sewing to look at me intensely.

“Don't you find that a villager like me tries to steal your Goddess strange?” I asked amused, resting my elbow on the table, taking the fabric that the woman in black offered me, concentrated.

“Hold this, per favore,” she murmured, seeing that I had indeed listened to her.

I nodded indifferently, holding that fabric with my arms outstretched as she cut it with scissors.

“What happened to your dress?” Donna asked when she finished her work, roughly grabbing one of my sleeves, pulling me unconsciously.

“Oh, well I must have caught myself on a branch,” I lied, knowing it wasn’t the reason for that tear.

My runs, my jumps through the forest while hunting were starting to be evident in my clothes.

“You are very careless, (Y/N),” Donna said, with a slightly dark tone, sewing the fabric again.

“That's just me,” I said amused, pointing at myself. She looked at me and smiled, shaking her head, letting the air out of her lungs with a tired, melancholic sigh.

“Ah, cazzo,” the lady protested, letting the fabric go and bringing one of her fingers to her mouth.

“What…?” I asked, being unexpectedly attacked by a sweet aroma, by an attractive perfume that made my pupils dilate, my vision blurry and the red color being the only thing I could see.

A perfect red color, blood that spilled almost imperceptibly from her hand. I didn't know if I was dreaming, but that feeling was as if I could fly, that red color was the purest I had ever seen, the most appetizing.

“What's wrong, Donna?” I said nervously, trying to come back to myself, trying to ignore the pleasure of that ferrous and sweet smell, one that mixed with the floral perfume that always accompanied her.

“It’s, it's nothing, I stuck myself with the needle. How opportune, just when I was scolding you for being careless...”

I knew she was talking, but my ears couldn't hear her, they could only hear a tiny drop of blood falling on the old wooden table, one so small that only I could see it.

“I'm going to wash up, excuse me,” she said, getting up from the chair, holding her injured finger and going to the next room.

I could lie, I could say that I didn't do anything, that I waited patiently for her to come back, but I didn't.

Grunting, I approached that little drop of blood, soaking my finger with it. It was very small, but I could still feel its warmth, its smell, that voice calling me from that red place, urging me to commit a sin.

Not even the sweetest of rabbits could compare to that taste, not even the fiercest of wolves had that intensity. It was divine nectar, it was almost magical, a love potion, a soft taste of copper and flowers.

My finger swam in my mouth and its flavor impregnated my tongue. I had been drinking animal blood for a long time, I never hurt anyone, I never wanted to.

But that almost paradisiacal smell forced me to do it, that attraction to Lady Beneviento's blood that had crossed the limits of curiosity.

Sweet, bitter, intense… And very, very fleeting. That taste left me soon, that sensation of tasting the nectar of life left my body trembling. Her taste left me, her smell didn’t.

Then I knew what her blood smelled like, how appetizing it was, how pleasurable it would be when it went down my throat. If I could go back, I surely would not have licked her blood, I would not have caused more problems to my cursed body.

She came back, free of the red stain on her hand, of that smell that stopped being perceptible to become something subtle, something fantastical that surrounded her. I could hear her heart pumping that delicious liquid. I could see her veins swelling with that blood, with that ambrosia.

I had a horrible day. Unwillingly, I moved away from Donna to avoid feeling the urge to see her bleed again, to stop looking at any sharp object, to stop running my tongue over my fangs every time she was near.

Luckily, night came, and with it, my time to quench my thirst. Surely this way I would forget about her blood, about the taste that made me see stars, reach a pleasure that I thought was impossible.

I couldn't do it. I ran, jumped, almost flew to dig my claws into the animals, to sink my fangs into their skin. The sensation of warm blood in my mouth was enough to quench my thirst, but it was disgusting.

That blood was wild, impure, imperfect. It lacked the flavors, the nuances of Donna's little drop of blood. It had nothing to do with it. There was a too great gap between those two flavors.

Furious, I dedicated myself to looking for more creatures, one a little more similar to that divine flavor. I didn't find it, I never tasted that sweet flavor again, that pleasant flavor of the blood of the lady in black.

Time continued to pass, and I, naive, believed that what they said about time and sorrow was true. I thought that the memory of that flavor, of that purity, would disappear with hours, days, weeks. It wasn't like that.

Guided by my sick obsession, I began to pursue Donna, to look for her when she felt like cooking, when she worked with her dolls. They were two dangerous situations, which sooner or later would cause her delicious blood to leave her body again.

But Donna was not just any woman, she never was. She was caring, skilled, she calmed my anxiety with her smiles, with her soft accent, with the words that praised me almost without me realizing it. I could only think of red, of her red.

I couldn't even hear the voices of my heart, of that human side that remained intact, of those screams that repeated to me over and over again, that I shouldn't hurt Donna, that I loved her.

Yes, I may have loved her, but love was something that my condition as a cursed girl left in the background. I loved her, I needed her, but first, first I wanted one thing, only one thing: her warm blood in my mouth.

Desperate, anxious and nervous, I lost control of my nightly hunts, I tore apart innocent creatures, I drank the blood of ever larger beasts so as not to have that horrible need to feed on the woman I loved. It didn't work, nothing worked, only her, only her perfume, her neck, her eye, her smile, only she could calm my desires, only her blood could calm my thirst.

I returned home empty-handed, I was not able to kill, to drink. My body rejected that impure blood, it was no longer good for me, my mind rejected it, repudiated it. I didn't want to drink that disgusting blood, and if I couldn't drink hers, I wouldn't drink any.

It was madness that darkened the sanity of my mind, my logical thinking, my animal instinct for survival.

Even her face, her stoic gaze hanging in that portrait called me, even my eyes searched for her neck in that old painting. I ran up the stairs, locked myself in my room, took off my lenses, and looked myself in the mirror.

My bright red eyes reflected my thirst, my breathing and my gaze reflected the monstrosity that slowly took over me. But something strange caught my attention behind my monstrous body, something that was on my bed.

A dress, a seemingly new one, brought me out of my bloody visions. I frowned and brought my trembling hands closer to the small paper note that was on top of that new garment.

I hope you won't be careless with this one, (Y/N)

Thanks for making my loneliness disappear.

Love, Donna.

“Oh, okay,” I groaned, reading the note over and over again, bringing it closer to my face to sense the floral perfume that invaded my room. She had been there, she had made me that dress, she had contaminated my room with her tempting essence.

A nervous smile formed on my face, my heart was beating loudly to be heard. I should have fallen madly in love, but I didn't. There was only one thing in my head, a horrible tremor in my hands almost made me tear that note.

I felt stupid. If I had drunk that night, I would never have left the room.

My gaze stopped smiling, my body stood up on its own, slowly picking up that new dress.

“At least I'll do it in your honor...” I whispered, not really knowing what I wanted to say, the wild part of me was the one talking, the one moving my hands as I took off my torn dress and put hers on. It smelled like flowers, it smelled like her.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. I couldn't see a girl, I couldn't see myself, I only saw my red eyes, I only saw a beautiful dress put on a monster.

I closed my eyes, hoping to wake up from that nightmare, from what my body was asking me to do and had begun to.

Like a zombie, like a ghost that always follows the same path, I went down the stairs. The gaze that used to smile darkened, my throat, sore from thirst, forced me to hiss unpleasantly. Darkness enveloped the old mansion, but I didn't need light, I needed blood, her blood.

The basement was even darker, but it was no problem for my monstrous body, for my anxiety, my uncontrollable thirst. I could follow her trail. I let myself be carried away by the scent of the flowers, which was more and more intense.

I arrived at my shameful destination, at that wooden door that separated my integrity from my monstrosity. Donna was there, my precious desire rested peacefully behind that door.

A sinister creaking accompanied my body walking inside that windowless place. I could see her, she couldn't.

She was... She was like a painting, like a muse, like an angel. A woman like her, dangerous, sick, beautiful, was even more so when sleep invaded her body, when her expression was completely relaxed.

I took a step towards the bed, then another, and then another.

The old wood was that telltale element that stirred the brunette, blinking confusedly, looking everywhere, remaining paralyzed when she met me.

“(Y/N)?” she asked sleepily, rubbing her eye. Maybe she thought she was dreaming, maybe she thought it was a nightmare. I wish it had been just that, a nightmare. “Your, your eyes…”

“Donna,” I said, with a deep voice, bringing my hands to my face, rubbing my red eyes that had not gone unnoticed by her. “Look, I put on your dress.”

Quickly, with a frightened movement, Donna reached out to the switch of the small lamp on the bedside table. The lady sat up and blinked several times, disturbed by your pose, by your voice.

“Did you like it? I'm, I'm glad to know it,” she stammered with a false smile, unable to hide her fear, her gaze frightened by yours. “(Y/N), what are you...?”

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I jumped onto the bed. She screamed in shock, but my strength and speed were no match for hers.

I climbed up her body, immobilizing her arms by her wrists while my breathing mixed with hers. Her gaze caused a pang in my soul, that terror, that fear it caused her should have made me feel guilty. But it didn't, I should have drink in the forest.

“What are you?” she asked, stopping fighting my hold, looking at my eyes, the red color I needed, at my fangs involuntarily showing when I was so close to my prey.

“I don't know,” I answered, with a tear running down my cheeks, a tear that came from the good side of my soul, the side that stupid Mother Miranda hadn't been able to corrupt. But a tear wasn't the same as the desire to stop. “But I do know what I need…”

I didn't waste any time. Slowly, I grabbed her head, leaning it back, leaving her neck completely at my mercy. Donna was screaming, saying things I didn't understand but I wasn't able to hear her, I could only hear her blood waiting to be drunk by me.

It wasn't a scream, nor a shriek. When my fangs sank into her flesh her body shuddered, but she stopped, she didn't continue fighting. I moaned as my desire was satisfied, as I felt that warm, tasty, divine liquid in my mouth, in my throat.

One drop was enough to obsess me, obsess me until I got what I wanted. I was not sorry, its flavor was pure, intense, sweet… It was nothing I had known before, nothing I had ever tasted before.

I moaned with pleasure as I felt all the nuances of its flavor, as I felt how the corners of my mouth were stained red, her red.

It was sweet, addictive and strange. A drug, a desire, a treasure, it was everything and nothing at the same time, it was the meaning of existence itself, the name of pleasure, of flavor, of life.

As my thirst diminished, my desire increased. I wanted to have it all, to drink it all, to never stop feeling that comforting sensation, that wonderful flavor, those images that soon disturbed my head.

Aprite la porta, lasciateli entrare e fateli felici con i vostri sorrisi…

The voice of a girl, a little girl singing interrupted the overwhelming pleasure I felt, forcing me to to taste that blood more slowly, hoping it would travel a little further, that its flavor would transport me to Heaven itself.

Miss Donna, if you don't eat, Angie will be very sad...

A man's voice came to my mind, it couldn't be her. It couldn't be blood. A vampire feeds on blood, not memories, my desperation, my desire to get that unique flavor was surpassing my own abilities. It seemed as if, as if I were sucking her soul.

I couldn't stop, I didn't want to stop. Without realizing it, I was comfortably lying on top of the lady, her arms hugging me, her hand caressing my head made I feel much more comfortable while I emptied her body, while I let her blood bathe my senses.

You like the maid, you like the maid…

A squeaky, mocking voice interrupted that peace, that relaxing and erotic moment, that continuous flow of her blood traveling through my throat.

Angie, shut up, she can hear you…

I sighed, taking a breath to continue my feat. Something inside me stirred, something was calling me, claiming me, interrupting me while I felt the greatest pleasure of my life. A warning I ignored at first, with an annoyed moan, snuggling against her body, letting her hands caress me, her soft touch accompany  my action, my sin.

A cold breeze woke me from my reverie. It was no wind, there was no such breeze, there was nothing, nothing. The grip of her hands on my body faded, the hand in my hair stopped caressing it and collapsed on the mattress.

Then, I woke up. I pulled away from her wounded neck abruptly. Her blood didn't taste so good anymore. It seemed like that the purity, that essence was fading at the same time as her embrace.

I blinked several times to look at something other than her blood, I looked at her. Donna Beneviento, Lord, servant and adopted daughter of Mother Miranda was pale, breathing with difficulty, her eye dancing erratically, her body almost unable to move.

Finally, I realized. I was enjoying that taste so much that I forgot about my heart, that I forgot about the danger of drinking without limits, I forgot that I had put her in danger.

But her gaze, although dizzy and sore, moved to mine, her hand clumsily raised passing over my face, over my face stained with her nectar.

“So... That was it...” she murmured with a weak voice, unable to sound clearly. Her smile was terrifying, it was sweet, it was calm. There was no longer fear in her gaze, only serenity, pride and... Love.

“I, I don't...” I said nervously, shaking my head, studying her condition, calculating how long I had been enjoying my desires. It was too long.

“Shh, hey, no, it's okay,” Donna said with that agonized voice, without stopping looking at me, making an effort to continue caressing me. “If this makes you happy...”

“Donna, why? Gods, I've gone too far, why didn't you stop me?” I asked nervously, putting a hand on her wound, letting the temptation fade, her life suddenly put before my thirst.

“Sono... Sono innamorata di te...” she whispered, with that same agonized tone, with her hand wandering aimlessly over my face, confessing something I didn't know I didn't understand until I saw her smile widen, her breathing weakly agitated.

“But, but Donna... I…” I said nervously, pressing hard on her neck, trying to keep that ambrosia in her body, where it always had to be.

“I, I don't care… Nothing matters to me but seeing you happy… If… If this makes you love me, I will… I will do it without hesitation.”

“No, no, no wait, wait a moment, no, don't fall asleep, wait,” I said nervously, seeing how her gaze was lost again, how after that confession her body didn't seem to want to keep fighting.

“I, I love you…” Donna whispered, grunting from the effort she made to get closer to me, to lean her head very close to mine, gently placing his lips on mine, kissing me softly, unexpectedly, as a last act of love before succumbing to her lack of blood, one that I caused.

“Shit, no, no please… Don't do this to me… Gods, forgive me Donna, please… No…” I said desperately, running my hands through my hair when the lady lost consciousness, letting herself fall on top of me.

I shook her shoulders, studied her soft breathing, listened to her heart through her chest, I wanted her to live, I wanted me to pay with my life for hers.

She didn't move, she didn't answer, she had fainted, but, luckily, that was all.

I hated myself, I insulted myself. I even scratched my face in rage. I wanted her, I loved her and the creature that lived inside of me was going to kill her. I cursed Mother Miranda, I cursed the village, I cursed Donna for being too beautiful, her blood for being too tempting.

I stayed with her in my arms, swinging on myself, looking for that floral scent that was about to disappear, because of me.

“Please… Wake up,” I whispered from time to time, cradling the brunette in my arms, wishing the coldness of her skin would disappear, healing her wound, swearing to myself that I would never, ever do it again. “Please… I love you too…”

I had no choice but to wait. I couldn't say how long, it seemed like an eternity to me, one more to add to the list of sentences in my life.

Finally her body moved and stopped turning pale like a soul in torment. After a time that I couldn't determine, Donna had come back to life, the life that I almost took.

“Oh, Donna, Donna,” I said nervously, with a big smile. “Okay, okay, no, don't move... Wait, wait, you, you must be hungry...”

I didn't wait for her answer, I quickly captured her deadly lips in a quick kiss, one that no longer wanted to be red, and I ran to the kitchen.

“Here, eat this, it's, it's a steak,” I said, entering the room again. “It, it will be good for you.”

The lady looked at me confused, in pain from the wound on her neck. She was already fully awake, but her gaze was confused, disoriented.

“(Y/N)…” she murmured with a hoarse voice, lacking strength while I sat next to her, offering her a glass of water and the plate of food.

“Shh, eat and shut up, I, I put some garlic on it, just… Just the way you like it,” I said, rubbing my hands, seeing how hers were shaking. She was so weak that she couldn't even eat. “Wait, let me, let me help you.”

I fed her in silence. My body moved nervously, my conscience traveled between joy and guilt and her eye, her eye was fixed on mine.

“Those are your real eyes, aren't they?” she asked with a soft voice, causing the fork to tremble in my hand.

“Yes,” I whispered, scared by the cold tone of her voice. “Do you want some water?” I asked, bringing the glass closer to her.

Donna nodded, without taking her gaze off mine.

“They're beautiful,” she said, now with a tired smile. The glass, again, trembled in my hand.

“That's not true, I'm a monster,” I admitted, saying out loud the truth that I was not able to verbalize.  “I Almost, almost...”

“You didn't,” she interrupted, with her skin color more normalized, with a little more light in her eye.

“You kissed me, Donna, you told me you loved me,” I said, changing the conversation, focusing on what really mattered.

“I didn't want to leave without you knowing,” the lady said, sighing, looking at me, looking for that answer that came again in the form of a kiss, a loving sigh, regret, letting a monster like me express emotions that were not suitable for it.

“I love your blood, Donna,” I said confused, wanting to confess, to express my guilt and at the same time the desire to live love with her. “But the love I feel for you is the only thing that could quench my thirst.”

[snivyartjpeg]

space dandy is one of my favorite anime ever so here's a real self indulgent rain code au where the detectives are space bounty hunters and shinigami is yuma's horrible alien parasite

(lore + spoilers below)(it's a lot so warning for that lol)

so like space mercs and bounty hunters are a classic right? imagine there is a whole ranking system on these guys ran by the intergalactic united government, and there's one guy who's the best in the business: a professional bounty hunter who has no name. he simply responds to his ranking- number one.

he carries out his work anonymously, his face only known by very few elites. born and raised to kill, he's really got no other identity to him.

he's never been fit for close combat, so he excels in stealth and marksmanship, as well as using his little genius mind to macgyver his way out of most situations

well eventually number one gets a little too cocky and gets fatally wounded on a mission. as he's dying, he hears the voice of an alien parasite who goes by shinigami. she's close to death as well without a proper host, so she proposes a deal: she takes over his body, and he gets to live. desperate to survive, he accepts, but the shock of her takeover knocks him unconscious and gives him amnesia.

by the way, shinigami works a lot like venom- she gives him super powers but also she does get hungry. yuma ends up letting her devour (read: she takes over his body and makes him devour) any hunted targets they kill.

anyway, now wholly dependent on her as a guide and life support system, number one manages to escape the planet he nearly died on and reach a trade center to find help. however, once he gets there, he is immediately chased by other bounty hunters and police. while running, he catches sight of a wanted poster, featuring someone with a face that looks just like his...

he finds what he thinks is an old abandoned ship to hide in, but turns out this worn down hunk of metal is inhabited by a man named yakou furio and his band of misfit outlaws that are also hiding from the fuzz. they have a big panic upon meeting, but all calm down and ask their newest guest how he got here. after giving his long winded explanation, number one gets accepted into the crew, and they name him yuma, after fubuki endearingly mispronounced the term U.M.A. (Unidentified Monstrous Animal, the thing the crew initially mistook yuma for).

the nda are all different types of aliens too! yakou is of a carnivorous race from a planet that's always raining. desuhiko is from a shapeshifting race of aliens that often blend into other planet populations. fubuki is a 4th dimensional time being, encased in a robotic body so she can interact with the lower plane creatures. halara is basically a furry from a planet ruled by anthropomorphic mammals (they look like some sort of gray fox). and vivia is like danny phantom- a guy who only half died thanks to a wormhole warp accident, so he can travel between spiritual and physical planes and cause anomalies. they've all got their own crimes and past, but they're all good people. will i ever draw them? hopefully someday!

anyway, this kinda plays out like a humorous, episodic show in which the crew go on odd jobs and missions to scrape by, all while trying to not get hunted as bounty targets. eventually things would get intense when they get attacked by a huge ship that's manned by a masked man... and this masked man seems to have it out for yuma, specifically. who is he? why is he attacking? whatever will this band of misfits do?!

i guess we'll have to find out next episode...

(or you can send any asks about this au. i WILL infodump abt it)

[ohcorny]

i need to be a hater on main about scavenger's reign or i will explode. i cannot be alone in this.

now that it's being moved to netflix and people are talking about it again, all i'm seeing is glowing praise and absolutely no criticism of the writing. i will gladly agree with anyone that it's visually stunning. like, a+ in that regard no argument. great looking show, and the worldbuilding of the planet vesta is super cool and clearly considered. i like those parts! but that seems to be all anybody is responding to when they praise it.

the character writing is fucking ridiculous. i could point at any of them individually and go "what the fuck is this" but it's been months since i watched it and i don't like arguing a point i can't clearly remember. but it was the most egregious around ursula so i'm going to focus on her. her character seems to exist just to cause problems for no reason, to the point where she's also the only character we get no backstory on. we never see her in flashbacks on the ship, never learn what she did for it or why she was there, nothing about her at all. she is the only one.

and she is the #1 source of shattering my suspension of disbelief. you cannot tell me that she and sam were surviving together for a month on this incredibly hostile planet, working together every day to call the ship down, to figure out how the world worked and what was dangerous and what they could use.... and then tell me she would turn around and treat him the way she does.

spoilers below the cut

she is so hostile toward him all the time for no reason. she wanders off to go look at a weird plant in the middle of a bramble that crushes you if you don't get out the right way, leaving sam alone on the outside with no idea what she's doing or where she is or if she's alive. and when she comes out and he is VERY REASONABLY upset that she did that and isn't interested in hearing about the thing she saw, SHE gets mad at him and says she doesn't need him.

YOU DONT NEED HIM? THE GUY WHO HELPED YOU SURVIVE THIS ENTIRE TIME? THE ONLY OTHER LIVING HUMAN ON THE PLANET AS FAR AS YOU KNOW, WHO IS THE ONE WHO KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE GOING, AND HAS THE CREDENTIALS TO GET YOU INTO THE SHIP? you have been alone with him for a MONTH, he is your ONLY HUMAN COMPANION, and you think you DON'T NEED HIM?? BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU IN A LOUD WAY?

this could be explainable if there was any real tension between them, or if we're given any reason to believe she actually could survive without him, but there isn't! she fucks up with the spores in the very first episode and would absolutely die if she was alone. sam is never anything but a good leader to her and keeps trying to look out for her, and any time he's "wrong" it's because he showed reasonable caution about the fuckplanet. he gets hurt by the egg parasite because he didn't want to climb into a giant animal's egg sac. reasonable thing to not want to do! when he and ursula get into that argument about her disappearing on him, he gets hauled off by the weird emu for the dramatic irony. because he was upset his only companion in the world disappeared. he never does anything wrong. it's never his actual character flaws that he gets punished for, it's only ursula's ~trusting your instincts~ shit that ever gets him hurt. she is ultimately responsible for his death but the show never acts like it.

so much of the show seemed to be drama for drama's sake. do not get me fucking started on kamen's creature. what was that thing's fucking problem. what was kris' fucking problem?

if i have to ask 'what is their PROBLEM' at every other character's choices, your writing is not good.

[ditzyblues]

YOU HAVE COOL ASF OCS TELL US MORE THE WORMS NEED TO EAT

WOW... THANK YOU MY WORMS!!!

couldve sworn u guys were parasites just last week... I DIGRESS! i will tell you more about my OCs!!!!!!!!!

if you are Tejano, you know that our communities are few and far between in media coverage. which is why i wanted to set my OCs in South Texas, a primarily Mexican-American area, no matter what. my OCs also predate the Elon Musk-ification of South Texas, set in 2003 for the majority of my depictions for them.

if you are not Tejano, fret not. My OCs are here to clue you into some culture. (first valerie art by droppincofdrops)

Valerie, born Valeria Isabel Velázquez in 1974, is a 1st generation Mexican-American woman. Her parents, like millions before and after them, came to America for a better life. However, the American Dream dies a horrible death in the borderlands of the RGV. This was no different for the Velázquez family. Living paycheck to paycheck in a terrible STX neighborhood, Valerie learned very quickly how to survive. These circumstances would not bring her down.

Her fortitude is something that has taken every beating imaginable. As her home life fell apart, due to her parent’s incompatibility, so did her social life. Valerie immediately didn’t fit into any categories her peers formed at any stage in her schooling. She was too “ghetto,” or spoke too much Spanish. (Her teachers, in an attempt to “ease” her up and whitewash her, opted for calling her Valerie instead of Valeria-Isabel.) And like most cultures, Valerie learned to be ashamed of her female body, and any assertiveness she showed.

To get ahead of the curve, Valerie hung out with older kids on her street and on campus. There was less of a need to control her in each of these circles, which she held dear to her. Valerie figured out to control everything she could. This is her core. If she is not in control, she is in danger.

Valerie turned to odd jobs, here and there. This evolved into sex work. Valerie dropped out of her senior year to pursue a club job. She lied about her age, claiming she was 20 at 17. But Valerie found her first community in this club job. These were pros, and they all looked like her, talked like her, and had stories like her. Despite the occasional drama, all of these girls looked after each other, and respected each other’s independence. This is what Valerie needed.

For the subsequent 12 years, Valerie’s fortitude and willpower carried her to the “top” of this circle. She looks for girls like herself, and doesn’t hesitate to take them under her wing, because the world is too damn horrible for her to let anyone fall. She encourages people, in her own tough way, to take control of their lives any way they can.

Some things Valerie never developed are patience, tact, or grace. She cannot, for the life of her, talk to people one-on-one. You’ll never get anything out of her. She’ll clothe you, feed you, lend you money, kill for you, but never give you her shoulder to cry on. Find somebody else for your emotions, because throwing them at Valerie is like throwing them at a brick wall. She doesn’t have time for interpersonal bullshit, and she certainly doesn’t have the patience to deal with it.

(It was difficult to find characters like her in media I've personally consumed. If anyone has recommendations, let me know. I watch too many cartoons.)

(soz i have no official drawings for rocío </3 yet.)

Rocío Celeste Estrada, born in 1979, is a 2nd generation Mexican-American. The youngest of 4 children, but only daughter, Rocío found herself taking after the trio of Tejano older brothers. Her mother was excited to have a daughter she could share her more feminine interests with, but she quickly gave up on that dream when Rocío followed in her brothers’ footsteps in terms of tastes and hobbies.

Rocío had a good childhood, compared to her peers. She grew up in the “okay” neighborhoods, where there were enough tax dollars for paved roads and working street lamps, but not enough for clean water and good air conditioning. This meant Rocío spent a lot of time in the streets, near the resaca, or playing in the desert land.

However, as quintessential “Tejano” the Estrada kids’ childhoods were, something that differentiated them from their peers was their race. In an area with 95% “brown” (non-white) Latinos, the Estrada’s were black. Their mother, a Haitian-American from Houston, met and married their Valley tejano father, a non-white Latino. This resulted in a complicated identity for each Estrada child. While they were just as Tejano as their peers, no one could make that assumption in this homogenous society. And like most cultures, antiblackness was sewn in. This othering presented itself in adultification, microaggressions, and assumptions/accusations.

Later in Rocío’s adolescence, the siblings discovered their father’s sancha, and other family. A whiter family, notably. This tore the Estrada household apart, and Rocío ended up moving in with her oldest brother, who’d had his own place. They all learned they couldn’t be without each other, let alone leave their Chio behind, so when Rocío was 11, she was set to be raised by her brothers. (short short story here)

Rocío was never fond of the social dynamic. Everyone seemed to dislike her for one reason: they just couldn’t tell if she was a girl or a boy. The girls were put off by her masculine clothing and hobbies and mannerisms, and the guys were put off by her “sensitiveness” and emotional maturity. And everyone was ill-equipped to even begin to acknowledge her race in any well-meaning way. The only times she could exist free of these pressures was in sports. She was tall (she's 6 ft flat as an adult!!!), and good at everything, it seemed. The boys AND girls asked for her in basketball. It was cool. Until high school.

Suddenly, everyone cared more about romance and grades and REALLY intense sports. Rocío, perpetually avoidant of conflict (short short story here), backed away from everyone, save a few friends she made along the way who actually liked her. But people were getting weird. Girls started to look prettier than ever, and Rocío had to reassess her status. She was not only the tall, mixed, weird girl who hardly talked. She was also a lesbian. A very masculine one at that. She’d already accepted her place as a passive wallflower, and couldn’t bring herself to escape it.

Throughout high school, Rocío learned her way around cars and anything with an engine and wheels. Her oldest brother had inherited the garage when their father gave it up, and so the Estrada’s spent a lot of time working shop. This was how they kept their home running, away from their parents. Rocío graduated, and didn’t bother with college despite her brothers’ advice. The garage was her second home, and she’d be amiss to leave it. From 18 to 24, Rocío lived in this cycle of waking up, hitting the garage, and going back home to her own apartment she moved into the second she made enough at the garage. Because brothers get tiring to live with after a while.

Rocío sees the world as an unchanging, continuous force. The social dynamic had never been kind to her, so she always put it on the back burner. However, Rocío found that she had a knack for the interpersonal stuff. She had always been the mediator for her brothers’ conflicts, and her friends at school drifted towards her after fights to figure out how to resolve things. As passive and conflict-avoidant Chio can be, she can be equally as assertive of boundaries (although this doesn’t come naturally/often. It will be nurtured in the future.)

(Rocío also has an underdeveloped, yet passionate sense of right/wrong. This is something she often represses, but it’s present enough for the acute to notice. This is something Valerie is drawn to.)

This is the first time I introduced Valerie and Rocío to each other. It was an Intro to Creative Writing assignment. But outside of this and a few drawings, there's not much out there with the two of em. They're very much a work in progress. Here's a moodboard along with an extended document. I doubt anyone has read this far LOL but thanks for letting me ramble about my chiquititas.

[transmasc-wizard]

blinks at you. i <3 vampirism + devastating loneliness can yu tell me more

blinks back with my wide empty eyeballs

cw for parasites, death, blood, etc. vampire stuff. the vampires. with the blood and death and diseases. you expected this

so im currently playing with vampirism as a two part disease. part one is a magical virus that turns old spirits who got lost on their way to the underworld into these decaying, angry shell of themselves, which collapse very rapidly into parasites that search desperately for a host to sustain their energy that should already be gone. the second part is... well, that parasite. the host is what we'd think of as the "vampire" but the parasite is the "vampirism" and the vampire is very much a victim of it. vampirism attaches itself to a person's heart when they come close to death in proximity of it, keeping them alive but forcing them into a trade that never ends. (vampires are often the end result of an angry ghost haunting someone.)

the parasite exists in the same level of reality as magic and spiritual energy do. if you were to carve a vampire open, you could tell there was something wrong feasting on its heart, but you could not cut it out. it's not physically tangible enough for that. the vampirism spends every second of every day begging for spiritual energy, which it takes as either a slow draw from the vampire itself (slowly killing them), from the energy of people around the vampire (this is called weak feeding, and is more like a snack at best), or from the physical blood of people around the vampire (proper feeding). the vampire actively chooses to do the latter two, or else the vampirism takes the first. the longer this relationship goes on, the larger the parasite grows, and the more the vampire has to feed.

this creates a scenario where, to the vampire, they have only one being that they can reliably give to instead of take from: the vampirism. but the thing is, like... it doesn't actually care. vampirism has no feelings. it attaches in a final burst of fear and anger, but in the actual form of a parasite, vampirism isn't the ghost it came from; that ghost is gone. the vampire is stuck feeding something that genuinely cannot even care for it in some fucked up toxic way. it's just hungry. it sees no difference between the vampire and the victims. a vampire can survive for a very, very long time as long as they don't sustain life threatening injuries, but the parasite isn't going to save them if they do. additionally, there is no such thing as a community for vampires. vampires are either people who are infected by the parasite originally, or people who narrowly survive being fed on by another vampire with a parasite large enough that a bit of it broke off. there is no real common thread or community, because they're scared of each other. most vampires despise other vampires. vampires also cannot find solace in magical communities, because the parasite both impairs most of their spells and stops their ability to tell when they're pushing themselves too far, so a vampire who was or wanted to be a magic user almost always has to give that up to save their own life.

most vampires live and die never understanding how vampirism works. many die in the first year because they don't know how to reliably feed themselves. Orion goes seven years surviving on just "weak feeding". the parasite doesn't tell them anything. the only reason vampires can know its there is because the nature of vampirism gives them a few extra powers; increased strength and speed, ability to communicate with and locate/sense the dead, and ability to hold someone's spirit in place when they're dying for a brief amount of time (this is so feeding can take the most of a person's spirit at once). between that and the constant hunger... well, some figure out they are feeding something that is not themselves, and those are the ones who survive. friendships are always incredibly strained, because the majority of vampires will find themselves weak feeding constantly. they need to. so they see themselves, and they understand they are hurting their loved ones and destroying relationships, but they barely know how or why.

Orion in particular was a very community-oriented person before he turned. he wanted to be a doctor. he wanted a family. now he feels constantly stuck in a loop of selfishness and guilt, and that's BEFORE he starts... uh... literally ripping people's throats out and eating them. after he turns, people can tell something is wrong, and they push him away, which furthers his idea he is fundamentally bad. the first person he ever feels like he can talk to is Arthur, and that is because he takes comfort in realizing Arthur is even more selfish than he is, as Arthur is someone who kills and hurts without the threat of a parasitic disease looming over his head.

but yeah. TLDR. becoming a vampire is finding yourself in debt for the rest of your life to something that is a part of you and cannot be carved out but forces you to hurt yourself and others every moment. and it doesn't care. it doesn't love you. it needs you, but it doesn't love you. and it is the closest thing to love you have unless you are willing to risk the constant unending fear of irreversibly harming the real flesh and blood people you care about. most vampires become incredibly isolated because they can't emotionally handle anything else. but that's hard to handle, too. vampires are. sad.

ty for the ask :3 !!

[arwen17]

I'm done with Marvel. You killed my favorite character and I have no reason to stay.

Posting here since I'm unable to discuss it on reddit. The sub apparently only allows you to praise the show. You're never allowed to complain about anything.

Here's the post I put on reddit that got removed by the mods with zero explanation (aka they don't want anyone to criticize the show in any way, shape, or form)

Part 1:

The ONE thing they MUST NOT do was kill Agatha. And what did they do? Kill her. Absolutely there is no way to make a ghost interesting. She's going to have a few cameos and quips here and there and that's it.

I'm also pissed about the Road being totally fake. It makes no sense Billy can call trials into being like that when he doesn't even know how Taro works that well or anything else. It was fine to think Billy and other coven members were influencing the Road, but to say Billy 100% created it is ridiculous. And they could have easily had the Road never being summoned by Agatha before WITHOUT the Road being fake. They literally took a badass character like Agatha from Wandavision (who had the Darkhold etc) and turned her into someone who just wandered thru the woods with no food or money and never actually did anything cool like survive the real Witch's Road. They totally diminished her and now she's even further diminshed because she's a talking hologram from now on!

I liked the trial where Agatha helps Billy remember how he saved Tommy. I liked Billy zapping Agatha to restore her power. I hated most of everything from the moment Agatha died.

I kept thinking "surely Billy will resurrect her somehow? They won't leave her a talking hologram will they?"

UGH!! Such a waste of a great actress who could have done more in the future!

Most of Episode 8 was great like the rest of the series. Episode 9 can go die in a trash can. The heartwarming scenes with Agatha and her son were nice, but the rest of Episode 9 was garbage.

Part 2:

You cannot make this character work as a hologram. Just not going to happen. That’s a cameo role.

I’m so pissed we got so little backstory on her and it was right at the very end. I’m so pissed she got so little screentime in her own show overall. 9 episodes is too short to do much of anything, especially if you’re going to try to use only 9 episodes to flush out so many characters. Nobody got much screentime or backstory because there were so few episodes, but it really hurt Agatha because she has the most backstory that should have been explored. Agatha is not a starving peasant in the woods who only feeds like a parasite. She’s a badass, clever witch who loves knowledge and loves the craft and wants to know everything she can about it and wants to live a full life. Living in the woods as a beggar is not a full life.

The Road should have been real (heavily influenced by Billy and the other witches in the coven) but still REAL. Agatha should have been a survivor of the Road in the past. It should have been how she got the Darkhold for example. And she still could have fake-summoned the Road the rest of the time in order to trick covens.

For the ending, Agatha should have remained alive. Either she goes on the journey with Billy (and thinks she’s going to sneakily drain a few witches along the way) OR Billy finds a way to chain her power so she can’t drain others without his permission. No hologram ghost!!

Agatha was a really cool character in Wandavision and for most of Agatha All Along. They totally diminished her into a forest beggar parasite in episode 9.

P.S. before the subreddit mods deleted my post, someone was able to comment that Agatha manages to get her body back in the comics. So there's a tiny grain of hope. But in the meantime, if they even use her at all, holograms SUCK! She might as well be a disembodied voice at this point.

View-bombing the show is frustrating. But the other side is manipulating too. They aren't allowing any posts that criticize the show at all. There's a giant hole in my heart right now where Agatha Harkness used to be, but I'm supposed to "praise" and "cheer" the direction the show as taken because that's the allowed narrative.

[thelongestway]

Yeah, okay, SecUnit surprised me there. I started this chapter like three times, it was sort of working but not really, and then I got... This out of it.

SecUnit, of all the people to latch on to in this situation...

Chapter 5: HubSystem

What is your assessment? ART said to us once Seth and I were out of the incredibly long and harrowing feed conversation with the--

I didn't even know what Aspen fucking was anymore. A station? A colonist who woke up alone on a ship, its crew dead save for a fucked up AI who was…

Fuck, that was the worst part of it. Aspen'd cited some of the comments their technician had made, and… Fuck. Yeah. That AI wasn't trying to kill them. I knew what a murderbot looked like, and that AI wasn't it. It was something like a HubSystem which was forced by an idiot designer to grow into its sleeping crew. But it didn't want to take them over, that wasn't its directive. It wanted to get the colonists safely to their new home. It didn't turn on them even after Aspen killed half of it trying to save their engineer.

The AI still wound up killing half of the crew Aspen had roused, and almost killed Aspen themselves. Because their fucking tech told their AI those crew members could not be allowed to become a threat under any circumstances and removed its fucking safeguards, and its other ways of acting were already gone, because it was mutilated so many times over. So it believed its fucking human, and it tried its best to kill the humans who were designated hostile, and then their fucking tech killed the AI.

And then, five years later, they put Aspen into its corpse and let them take it over like some kind of parasitic fungus from horror media, and then the Courageous became the--fuck, Aspen called it the rootstock, didn't they?--for all of the node ships.

I realized neither Seth nor I were talking. And that ART was curling around me in the feed, concerned, but not intruding into my processes. It had taken the node ships' warning seriously. I signalled it that I was processing, and it confirmed, then shifted its attention to Seth.

Seth looked up at ART and said, swallowing, "I don't think Aspen's a threat to us, Peri. Most of the deaths happened when they were still just a colonist. The engineers of the Courageous fucked up very badly, multiple times, and there was corporate sabotage involved on top of that. Aspen was dealing with an impossible situation. It's amazing they got as many people alive to Hylara as they did."

"Query, SecUnit." ART said. "With the data you received from Aspen, what was the survival rate on the Courageous' mission?"

Yeah. Okay. I had that number, because I was running an ongoing threat analysis as Aspen told their story (and where I doubted them, I got a second opinion from Dandelion, who, as it turned out, had also seen most of the events.) So I had that number, and it was fucking insane.

"Less than five percent."

Seth gave a low whistle.

"There but for the grace of the stars go we…" he muttered.

I knew he wasn't thinking about the AI. Seth was thinking about waking up alone on a ship, and having the lives of five thousand humans in his hands, and losing two fifths of them to somebody's stupid science project. But I…

ART tightened its hold on me in the feed, and it put on the first episode of Sanctuary Moon.

Whatever you're seeing, you aren't there anymore, it said, pinging my hard address. You're here. Let's go watch our shows.

So we did. And when the crew met the next day, ART told its humans that they could go on board the Courageous, if they wanted.

---

Aspen tapped my feed the next day, but when I let them in, they didn't connect to me directly. Instead, they sent me a text message, like Iceblink would have: Hello, SecUnit. I wanted to know if there's anything you need from me to help you ensure your crew's safety.

A list of what your humans are planning to show mine, camera access on all those areas, as well as a list of potential threat factors that you can identify, existing safety measures and escape routes. Also, why are you using a text channel?

You seemed uncomfortable when we last talked, and Dandelion said you might prefer to do this in writing. Here's the access you requested, and the preliminary lists. Where threats are concerned, I might be able to specify in more detail if you let Dandelion release Preservation team members' medical data to me.

The lists were pretty comprehensive already, but the really unexpected part was that Aspen actually gave me camera access. I couldn't exactly see half the station, but it was a lot of cameras, and some of them looked like they were in high security areas.

(Others looked like they were on a planet, but even Dandelion, who was dozens of times smaller, had fucking greenhouse rings. Of course her fucking station would have entire forests. One looked like it was floating on water. I didn't know why or how that was possible, but the forest part was pretty easy to expect.)

Anyway, I wasn't really expecting them to give me camera access. Even though it was always on my request lists, nobody just gave you camera access before you've even worked together.

Query?

Specify?

Ugh. Talking to a fucking HubSyst-- okay, talking to a human who took over a dead HubSystem--like this was just painful. So I said,

Yeah, talking to you directly sucked. You kept shoving subprocesses into my face. But I can't work like this. Let's switch to a regular channel.

Hmm. Judging from my logs, you're reacting to my analytics, Aspen said, opening a normal feed channel. That's not an issue. I can shut most of those off. Is this better?

Yeah, it no longer felt like there were ten or more of those fucking little tendrils slithering right next to my own feed presence, looking like they'd crawl into my processes at any second. (Ew. Fuck.) (This was so much better.) But wow, was this a stupid decision on their part.

You're giving me visual access to secure areas and then turning off analytics targeting me, just because I said talking to you sucked? What the hell is wrong with your risk assessments?

They're not the really necessary ones, Aspen said indifferently. Just old habit. I keep track of you well enough without them.

Right, like that wasn't ominous or anything. But it was kind of true, maybe: I could see they had most of the standard analytical suites (or local versions of the same) a HubSysem would have still running. Those weird tendrils? I had no idea what they were even for.

Query: analytics target?

Response: sociological analysis. Specification needed?

Query: is it going to be a reading list with 800-year-old readings?

Aspen paused. A few of their little tendrils raised their heads curiously, but didn't go anywhere near me. Instead, they said, I'm sorry, what?

The last time I asked to specify the purposes of a sociological analysis, I was given this, I dumped Thiago's reading list into the feed channel.

Aspen skimmed the list, very quickly at first, like they were looking for a specific data point. Then they sifted through it again, slower. (It still took less than a second.) Then they said, Wow. You've really pissed someone off.

I was insisting they take security precautions they didn't like.

Aspen's functions flickered, and their curious tendrils dissolved back into their main presence.

Ha. Yeah, we don't like doing that. They said with a sudden bitterness. But no. I'm not going to be an asshole to you and give you a fucking reading list. How about this, SecUnit. I'll run my analytics alongside yours when we handle the visits. I'll try not to aim them at you unless I really need to, and if you need an explanation, we can always drop into accelerated time. Does that sound good?

Weirdly, it actually kind of did.

Yeah, I said. Yeah. Let's try that.

[snailvee]

Leon tells Chris about what happened during his time in Spain.

The moment Rebecca got up and left for the bathroom the air got thicker. Chris studied Leon’s face as his eyes flicked from the bottle on the table to the window, then back to the bottle again. Chris knew if he didn’t say anything nothing would change until Rebecca got back and he had a feeling that’s how Leon hoped things would go. But Chris had too many questions, couldn’t stand to see the painful apathy in Leon’s eyes without at least trying to figure out what was going on.

“Leon.”

Leon’s head whipped around at the sound of his name and he looked like he was about to snarl at Chris to get him to stop talking, but Chris expected this reaction and pressed on without pause.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know what happened in Spain. Not about your mission, I was briefed on that – what really happened. What happened to you.”

“It’s–” Leon tried to interrupt, but shut his mouth when he saw the raw emotion in Chris’s eyes. Leon knew how much they’d both been through and how important this must be to Chris to make his emotions so unguarded. So he pursed his lips and sat back.

“I know the mission itself was trying but it’s not like you haven’t seen anything like it before. Something else happened. Tell me what happened.”

There was a beat of silence, Chris’s brows furrowed and mouth still slightly open.

“Please.”

Leon held Chris’s gaze for less than a second before his eyes flicked down to the table again. He let out a breath and his body slumped forward.

“Fine. But you have to let me get another drink.”

Chris rolled his eyes and a wry smile made its way onto his face. He said nothing, just scoffed and waved over the waiter who had been standing awkwardly by the counter.

Once Leon had his drink in hand, Chris turned toward him expectantly. Leon looked over at him and rolled his eyes like he was about to go back on his promise, but he started talking before Chris could start questioning him again.

“There was… an ally we found along the way. He was tied up in the basement of one of the houses and he was the only other person I’d seen besides Ashley and I who wasn’t infected. He was a bastard at first, left me chained up after he’d escaped when we both got kidnapped. But he ended up saving my life. Our lives.”

There was a look in Leon’s eye Chris had trouble placing. It was pain and guilt but with a hint of… care? Fondness? He had to stop himself from leaning toward Leon as he started to speak again.

“Ashley and I did end up getting infected. We fought it off for as long as we could but we wouldn’t have had a chance without Lu– him. He was a scientist and had a lab nearby with the equipment needed to get rid of the parasite. It’s the only reason we survived.”

Chris tilted his head at Leon’s almost slip of a name, but didn’t press about it for fear of Leon closing off completely. He just focused on keeping his breath steady and looking at Leon.

“He was a scientist for Umbrella actually, if you can believe that. Helped make Nemesis and everything. But the second he found out that’s what his work was being used for he left. I asked why he was helping us once, and all he said was that it made him feel better. It confused me then but after I found out about his connections with Umbrella, well…”

Chris had tensed at the mention of the corporation but kept silent, questions on the tip of his tongue but not confident enough to ask them yet.

Leon turned to him and narrowed his eyes.

“I can hear you thinking. Just say it.” he all but spit out.

“Did he… Well, what’s his name, first?”

Leon’s mouth formed into another pained smile.

“Luis. His name was Luis. He didn’t make it. Krauser, he came out of nowhere and–”

Leon stopped short, turning away and taking another swig of his drink. Chris lowered his gaze, putting the pieces together fairly easily. He knew this wasn’t the first time Leon had lost someone he cared about, nor would it be the last, but this time something was different. There had been something so important about this man Luis that caused his absence to have this effect on Leon.

“He deserved to make it out. To try again. I… I wanted him to be able to make a new life.”

Chris was hit with a wave of understanding. Leon loved this man. Regardless of how long they’d known each other, regardless of what he’d done in his past, Leon loved him. 

Christ quickly stamped down the pang of jealousy that bubbled up – it wasn’t the time for that. He could deal with his own emotions later, he’d been keeping them tucked away so long that a little longer wouldn’t make a difference.

“Leon, I’m sorry. But I understand now, and that’s all I wanted. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to help, but I sure as hell couldn’t sit here and watch you hurt without knowing the reason. So thank you.”

Leon finally looked at him again, face pulled taut but a silent thank you in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but he didn’t get the chance as a man stormed in, cutting their conversation short.

[crabbytime]

Actually fuck it y'all get my tfa ocs too because I forgot to post them but I love them dearly (yes my ref style is inconsistent but I refuse to make it consistent)

Mini bios!

Deadweight- An Autobot defector and medic who hoards spare parts, junk, and whatever they've graverobbed. After having their conjux executed during the war for becoming a Decepticon spy and losing their entire team to a wayward alien parasite, they completely lost all joy or hope and switched sides. They don't express any sort of emotion and just let things happen, but they're as honest as they come (though it's mostly due to lacking the energy to lie). This can be detrimental if you're on the operating table, but otherwise it makes others know exactly where they stand with Deadweight. Due to their size, they tend to be used by other Decepticons as a weapon. The compartment on their back is akin to a mobility aid since it's mandatory for them to transform, and they occasionally use it for support when their leg injury acts up. The compartment also acts as a personal infinite pocket dimension, perfect for hoarding their collection! Their alt-mode is a hearse.

Diama- After the Allspark was shot out into space, the Autobot High Command wanted to find a way to create new Cybertronians without wasting too many resources. Thus, Perceptor started a new project that began and ended with Diama. Their goal was to create a completely artificial 'bot that wouldn't need too many resources to run on, and could even survive without energon. What they got was Diama. She was invented with the possibility of failure in mind, so she was made quite compact and with individual parts that combined to make her body in case they needed repair. Since they weren't sure if she'd be scrapped or not, they made her alt-mode something practical they could use were she to be shut down so their resources weren't wasted. A magnet. Her body emits a natural magnetism she has to keep low so she doesn't stick to the metal architecture of Cybertron. This also means she's fairly liable to fall apart at the slightest bit of force. Because she's completely artificial, she has no personality, the reason Ultra Magnus cancelled the project, as he deemed the sacrifice of personality too great a cost in exchange for progress. Though, because her personality is AI, her behavior is influenced by those around her, so her data keeps having to be fixed and reset by her handlers. The only reason she still "lives" is because they have her go around doing maintenance work for situations normal bots can't quite do. Perceptor likes to keep her around as his walking flashdrive.

Throwback- An unaligned amnesiac the Autobot High Command took in after finding his mangled body post-explosion. Nobody knows where he came from or what he is, considering his entire infrastructure was archaic by their standards, yet he had a spark. They had to completely recreate his outer shell while keeping his bare-bones intact, both to study and to not accidentally kill him. The damage he sustained gave him a large amount of damage on his processor and joints, but they couldn't be fixed due to his anatomy being incredibly outdated and unknown to the Autobots. Because of this, Throwback has an incredibly difficult time absorbing new information, which is incredibly frustrating for him and everyone else. He acts out as a result of that and his situation, pushing his already brash personality to its limits. He's incredibly loud and rude but turns tail at the first sign of conflict. His alt mode is a boomerang, but only his top half can turn into it, leaving his legs to their own devices. Because he keeps trying to escape his confinement, they've paired Diama with him so she can use her magnetism to pull him back when he runs.

Evolutia- Has earned the nickname "mommy issues" in my friend group and for good reason. She's as old as Alpha Trion and has both the experience and knowledge to back it up. Having lived through so many conflicts, she's gotten a distaste for it, and instead busied herself with off-planet work and exploration. Knowledge was always something she sought and she was willing to do anything to figure things out. However, an accident left her T-Cog destroyed and rendered her unable to transform. This didn't stop her, however, as she continued her research regardless. There she found that her body, though it could no longer transform, could instead shapeshift and meld to match the environments she was in. This ability was unnatural and made her fellow Cybertronians afraid of her, so she ran off before they could experiment on her. As this occurred during the Decepticon conflict, she ended up switching sides just to learn how they functioned and to study their anatomy. It was there that she took Shockwave under her wing, taking notice of his own shapeshifting abilities. She mentored him in this and various sciences in hopes that he'd use this for Cybertron's benefit, but became disgusted by him and ended up abandoning both him and the cause. She lived alone in space for countless millennia, stopping by other planets and stealing resources for her own purposes. She's even the basis for a variety of myths, legends, and rumors across countless planets as a result, thanks to her ever-changing appearance. There was always just one question she could never answer, the secret to life and existence, and she aimed to find out one way or another. So, she began building constructs to try and recreate Cybertronian anatomy using her vast knowledge of the subject. When this didn't work, she began harvesting honorable sparks from still-living bots from the shadows in order to pass their noble traits onto her new generation. She was the one to first create Throwback, not that he remembers, and she has countless other constructs wandering around the cosmos. She's incredibly patient and motherly, but once she's disappointed, you're essentially dead to her. She does not have nostalgia in the slightest and has no problem with switching her opinions around at the drop of a hat with no hesitation. Her highest priority is Cybertron's future and evolution, and she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals. Before her T-Cog was destroyed, she turned into a moon rover.

This turned into a massive infodump but I love them a lot. All of them have more info on my Toyhouse! I'm not sure how the algorithm works on this site so idk if I'm allowed to link it but my username is also Crabbytime!

[yurobox]

I keep forgetting I have this account and I post things here... HERE ARE MY MASHUPPSSS!!! MINI STORIES WILL BE UPLOADED RIGHT NOW :DD

Starlight & Virus

Virus and ST, are still siblings instead, a few moments before Nightmare reluctantly ate the black apple, Error showed up and started destroying the place which caused a glitch on the said apples and he left leaving half of the universe destroyed.

For Starlight, he tried saving his brother and when all hope came to a loss, Virus ate the glitched out apple which indeed caused him to glitch and turn into a corrupted version of Nightmare, but to the extent of Virus clothes being glitched and remained having passive clothes., it was painful. He could've died. But he survived.

Starlight however, was also overwhelmed by too much going on, turned to stone, instead of the usual 500. He only got stuck for 200 years. Of course, he got out of his own and since it's only been 200 years, the AU was only slowly recovering when he started to walk around to only see half of his AU glitchy and dangerous.

Ever since this incident, Starlight had been taken to the omega timeline where he currently lives in search of his brother. (Yes he met Dream :DD!)

Vial

Vial was like Killer, but he got bored on just killing he wanted something more but he felt uncomfortable of his soul, he disliked it so much he ripped it apart, which only caused half of his soul gone and his universe breaks, because apparently. His soul was one of the main cores in his au. Everything was wiped out except a comically large knife and some papers and crayons.

At first he couldn't hold the knife and just kept drawing until his sanity dropped to the point he's hallucinating and his crayon drawings are his friends and that made him insane enough to pick up the knife (how the knife got large was a size glitch.)

He started to draw said companions but it didn't work until he pierced harder into the white blank space and revealed thousands of multiverse to explore and saw scrapped and unused clothes from another au and decided to take it and now he lives as an explorer and tormentor of the universe

Corpse

Corpse was like Horror, like any other Horror, he was sans, Frisk killed the king and walked off with his soul and got the neutral ending until things go wrong and you get the whole charade.

But not this one. Frisk here was doing genocide. And Genocide they did. They left with the King soul and somehow managed to get away from Corpse by plain manipulation and escaped.

And so problems started. Like the actual horrortale, they lost the core power, had to take his eye, and you get the drill. This time, since his brother was found dead the moment Frisk got away. He couldn't take the betrayal and started killing every monster by eating them. But then Frisk kept coming back. The betrayal continues and he gets even aggressive each time.

And then Frisk stops for good and then he's alone, a starving beast waiting for the same person he's never gonna see ever again.

Poptart

Poptart! Well. It started out as xtale right? There's no event. Everything is normal. Except that Cross.. is a bit tall. At least that's an alternate change.. and then. Something happened. A purple parasite, or whatever that thing was started infecting the whole place, heck! It even got gaster! Cross couldn't escape it. He couldn't. He tried. But he didn't try hard enough.

Of course, the fresh blob had taken Cross form and Cross had tried multiple times to escape the predator grasp yet he gave up, he lost hope, now he's just a numb host for the "Fresh" parasite had taken him and changed him into someone named Poptart who took a liking with Vial.

[blackjackkent]

As Rakha slowly comes back to herself in the wake of the zaith'isk explosion, she is dimly aware that the ghustil is screaming with rage.

"SHKA'KETH!"

And then Lae'zel's answering scream, shakier and weaker than usual and trembling with fury. "What madness is this? The zaith'isk nearly destroyed me! I AM GITHYANKI! I WILL NOT BE GHAIK!"

"My life's work. Gone..." the ghustil whispers hoarsely as Rakha clambers unsteadily to her feet. The doctor seems barely to notice Lae'zel's pain or her anger - her attention is all for the shattered piece of machinery at their feet.

She rounds suddenly on them, her eyes fixing on Lae'zel with sudden intensity. "And yet she lives - and so does her parasite."

Narrator: [INSIGHT] Her voice cuts with a fanatical edge - an obsession bordering on mania. If there's a chance the parasite lives, she wants it.

It's not hard to guess the doctor's thoughts. She knew the machine would kill. Her concern was never for Lae'zel or Rakha's survival - only for what she might learn. And now that disinterest is colored by rage.

She has betrayed them, and because her betrayal failed, she is dangerous.

Pathetic creature, says the beast in Rakha's head. We will do as we promised. We will tear out your throat.

"Your zaith'isk tried to kill Lae'zel," she says, her voice cold as ice. "And failed."

At her side, Wyll shifts uncomfortably. He knows that tone. So does Shadowheart, although she seems to be only half-listening; her eyes are fixed on Lae'zel, a bit of healing magic drifting from her fingertips but unspent, as she has nowhere to direct it. The damage done here lies within.

"The zaith'isk does not fail," the doctor hisses angrily. "The only variable in this experience was you - and your parasite! And I will uncover how this happened."

She is as hot as Rakha is cold - incandescent with fury at her neat little plan falling to pieces. Rakha almost reaches out and takes her by the throat then and there, but before she can do so, the doctor pushes past her and out into the hallway. "Wait here. I will gather my tools."

And then she's gone, and they are left alone with the smoking ruins of the zaith'isk and Lae'zel's cry of abject despair.

"No. It can't be. It can't! THIS WAS MY RIGHT!"

----

Rakha does not expect Lae'zel to want to speak to her. The tension between them has been harsh and cold for a week or more now, and all by Lae'zel's choice; Rakha has no reason to expect a conversation in the wake of such terrible disappointment would go well. So she says nothing, but moves over to examine the empty husk of the deadly machine.

To her surprise, though, Lae'zel stands beside her and speaks in a low mutter.

"I followed protocol," she says hoarsely. "I kept to my faith. Yet the zaith'isk might have killed me."

It is a plea for comfort, reassurance, understanding. Rakha says nothing. What can she say? This was the plan from the beginning, a plan based on Lae'zel's absolute, unshakable confidence - and the plan did not work. There is no cleansing to be had here. The worms still sit in their skulls.

Receiving no response, Lae'zel stares down balefully at the remains of the machine and then scowls tightly, fumbling for an explanation. "The ghustil tampered with it. Traitor - and there may be more still! This must be why the Inquisitor's come."

Rakha can hear shades of her own manner of speech in Lae'zel's words in this moment of strain - the accumulation of fact and fact and fact. It would be touching, perhaps, in some other scenario where the young gith's conclusion was not utterly wrong.

"The zaith'isk is supposed to kill you," she says flatly. "I saw it for myself."

"A deception," Lae'zel snaps. "Proof of the doctor's manipulations. The queen does not mislead Gith's children!" She turns away sharply. "Now hurry. We must go to the ch'r'ai and inform him of the doctor's sedition."

Rakha watches her go with an unreadable expression. She wants to believe, even now, that Lae'zel could be right, that this was a traitorous act by the doctor that could not have been anticipated. But deep down, she knows it is not true. Lae'zel was wrong. They have always been walking towards a death trap, because Lae'zel believed things that were not true.

What other wrong things has Rakha believed because of Lae'zel's confidence? Has she also been wrong to trust Wyll? To trust Karlach?

Rage simmers in her chest, undirected, formless - a rage born of humiliation and pain and deep fear mixing with the beast's everpresent hunger. The doctor dies first. And then we will speak to this Inquisitor. And if I am right, and this place was always a trap, then Y'llek's halls will run red with its own blood.

[hawkepockets]

okay now i am introducing my v for real 👇😡

📋 full name: vi shui tao

vi is her family name, but enough americans misunderstood that she got sick of it and “v” is more intimidating for a merc to go by than “taotao.”

👩🏻‍💼 backstory: corpo

born in shanghai to a large family employed by kang tao. v’s parents, who were bodyguard and stylist to the kang tao ceo’s wife, brought her along for an extended work trip to night city as a child. they sold out to arasaka, releasing a cyberware-frying daemon into their boss’s hotel room, in exchange for a full ride at arasaka academy for their daughter. both parents succumbed to the virus along with their employer, and v was left alone in california with nothing but the scholarship they’d applied for with their lives.

her relatives back home encouraged her to stay in america and use the opportunity, so she rose to deputy head of arasaka counterintel at a young age (though not as young as “canon” V—she’s in her 30s!) and doesn’t have many detailed memories of china or her extended family. though when they do surface, she tends to get red-faced, teary, and sullen… SHE’S FINE ON HER OWN!

🐭 she is a professional thief, a coward, and a rat and has an awful case of internalized misogyny, but also a strict code of honor, in her own way. it’s not often legible to people who don’t know her well - but she doesn’t kill anyone but scavs if she can help it and considers the relationships between clients, mercs, and fixers sacrosanct.

when he wasn’t calling her chica, or “corpo-rat” out of abject disappointment in how she’d turned out, jackie called her “mousie.”

🔧 +20 technical skill! a talented combat netrunner and huge know-it-all about tech.

🎹 used to be the keyboardist and tech for a band while in school. the other musicians all flamed out or left night city as they were serious about the anti-establishment messaging in their songs, while v stayed behind, locked in on her career and determined to sell out. she never found another band, unless you count samurai, but put her speaker-whispering skills to use a few times as a roadie for extra eds. has always thought frontmen were full of shit and annoying. ESPECIALLY rockerboys. ick.

cannot sing at all.

she really admires nancy/bes isis, which makes johnny reconsider how much he’s overlooked samurai’s pulitzer prize winning keyboardist, the only band member with the skillset to make a material political difference in the city.

💬 socially inept, runs very hot and cold. will be unavailable, blunt, and short-spoken for long stretches, then suddenly say smth florid and intimate or pull a brutal cold read on someone out of nowhere. known for her offputting signature maneuver of kissing a friend on the cheek then immediately exiting the conversation. a smug, sourpuss skeptic in all things.

⛩️ neighborhood: japantown

❤️ best friends: takemura, alex, judy, mitch, and RONALD “RONNIE” P.T. MALONE!

🚩 got together with river mostly just to antagonize johnny by fucking a cop. quickly realized she found river boring and felt worse about using him than she’d thought as he was actually kind of a relentlessly good guy. cheated on him with judy, never told him, let him think his terminally ill gf died a saint and never ever mentioned the silverhand thing. she adores judy’s company but ultimately it’s all silverV triangulation. sorry.

🚬 in love with johnny, since he apologized for the initial violating behavior and she stopped thinking of him as a parasite. (it was a particularly sensitive subject for this v, who had already contended emotionally with an unwanted pregnancy while at saka and had a hard time separating her feelings about the engram from her regrets about the fetus.)

they never ease off the negging, but can both feel each other’s rush of affection at the sound of an irritating voice in their head, so it lacks bite. she’s wanted him to survive and take the body for far longer than she’d admit to herself, to him, or to any of the people who want her to make it out of night city. she’d rather be him than herself, though. but he doesn’t want to be himself alone.

it’s weird. they’re weird. i actually hate them.

🏯 after arasaka fired her, she took very little convincing that the corporation deserved to burn. that johnny was actually competent enough to burn it, and achieve more than just a forgettable murder-suicide? took a lot more convincing.

she never once fully believed in one of the cures offered to her, though. she just had to go through the motions of self-preservation.

🏍️ cannot drive a car. never learned. she exclusively drove jackie’s arch until getting johnny’s porsche back from arasaka, by which point johnny’s muscle memory had bled into her body enough that she could handle just that car. exclusively just that car. please stop making her drive other people’s vehicles.

🕶️ at first, it was obvious who was controlling the body because although both were smokers and both had a mean smirk, johnny always wore reflective aviators while v had her oversized kitschy red sunglasses. later, they started wearing each other’s sunglasses while fronting, to feel less alone and separate. johnny still has hers to this day of course. and doesn’t do anything weird while wearing them…

🍶 endings: king of cups + temperance