#which is like a big part of that trope tbh

[jasper-unofficial]

why would you remind us man... i miss them too though 🥺

[elisedonut]

out of curiosity, what do you think of percy x hermione?

it's still not for me tbh

I've tried to read it a few times and have never had much luck with it

i almost never enjoy the way Percy's portrayed when paired with her and some of the few times i have Hermione hadn't felt like Hermione

i like Hermione well enough but I'm kind of picky about her I've learned and despite being good for a baby crush which i always enjoy she doesn't really show crushes in a way i find interesting so even my favorite Pre war younger student with a crush on Percy concepts don't work as well vs like Lavender, Luna, Colin, Draco i don't know why i would pick her when i don't think she would really do anything about the feelings you know?

which is honestly not helped by the fact that i do think she had a bit of a crush on him Pre-GOF

also Hermione is someone who enjoys bickering like how she does with Ron it's enrichment for her i think she would get bored in a relationship if she couldn't bicker with them

and this is more personal taste then anything but i don't like shipping Percy with someone who will fight with him all the time that's one of the reasons I'm constantly like i don't see Perciver as enemies to lovers

i just don't think he'd like it like his reaction to Hermione getting mad at him during Gof about house elf's feels very very different to like how her and Ron go at it which ofc this one is a serious issue and one of the first times he's seen it so you know

I just think he wouldn't stay with someone who was constantly wanting to argue

i think he has a hard time with telling when something is lighthearted and would take the things she said to heart as against him and i don't think that's a good thing (granted to be fair this might be me projecting because i can barely handle it when family wants to bicker with me and i will cry and assume they hate me if they say the wrong thing but yeah i have no proof on that)

[poolseason]

headcanon time! Lloyd's powers:

When using Oni abilities, his powers turn purple, of course but I've been obsessed with the idea of him gaining those white face markings that Garm and the other onis have. The marks sort of swirl in from the sides of his face. if i was a better animator i'd have shown you. also would be cool if an inexplicable shadow fell over him and him only (even if he was in the sun), making the marks glow more.

Obviously there are two modes Lloyd's got when tapping into the Oni abilties: powered up and full transformation. i'm obsessssssedddd with exposed bones. Garmadon and Mistaké exposed ribcage is such a cool design element. I think in the power-up mode, the torso markings detail are something that glows over him, while in the transformation his ribcage and spine are just Out. But don't worry, I'm sure they're extra durable.

The green one is funky. You know how Lloyd's powers sort of glitched over him during his fight against Garmadon in s8? It was explained that his element was protecting him in a way. Well in my head, in the non-plastic character world the way it's visualized like the green power is sort of illuminating under his skin? its wrapping itself around his bones and organs and stuff as some sort of protective sheild under his flesh, which in part makes him look a little ghostly or radioactive. Probably a bit painful though.

Oni form. TBH i don't like the gold color but i can sort of accept that look if they give us a good reason. Otherwise I figure that since he was wearing proper armor in Crystallized, his transformation was more contained more. I bet if he was wearing a normal gi he'd tear out of it when he turns into a big hulking monster guy. They really should've tapped into the classic werewolf tropes with this oni transformation haha

I hc onis being really BIG beasts. Lloyd's transformation probably takes him up to like 3 meters tall. That could honestly be a really funny contrast though. I think in human mode he'd be really short, so effectively he doubles in size.

[whirlpool-blogs]

whirlpool's personal fic recs, part 2

well, it's been a minute since the first time I did this, so here's some more great fics I've read since then.

(this is a totally fresh list! if by chance you see a repeat from part 1, it's only because there's been an update to it since then)

-> Please let me know if any of my links are messed up, or if I got a tumblr handle wrong!

rarepairs/3somes/from perspective of other characters:

Biggest Dick on Base by @impalachick (Crosby/Bucky) you guys. this one is soooo hot. oh the dialogue is sooooo good. as the author says, "It's canon that Croz and Egan are the two horniest guys in the 100th" and this fic NAILS it!

dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek) by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky/Buck) Curt POV and it's soooo good, equal weight is given to the Curtbucky of it all, and there's this summering electricity in the Curtgale, and the Buckbucky devotion is so real, it's a true threesome fic and author absolutely nailed it!! also start taking your chances in the same series, WHEW!

I Get A Feeling That I Never Had Before by @darkimpala1897 (Clegan+Hambone) 978 words, so it's short but sweet! Funny and original and creative, and like, of COURSE this is how Buck discovers his feelings for Bucky & Ham.

Learning Curve by @hogans-heroes Clegan through the perspective of Alex Jefferson, explores his friendships with Buck and Bucky, and his observations of them from an outside view! Really heartbreaking and sweet and touching, such a great writing style.

Pegasus by merle_p (Rosie/Bucky) Egan is an absolute horny menace and a terrible authority figure sometimes lmao, and this fic gets it! Loved the characterization in this one. And the ending is just <3

Render Me a Wreck by @almost-a-class-act (Brady/Bucky) you guysssss you GUYSSSSSSS you KNOW I love me a Brady fic and holy shit this one is IT! this one is IT!!!! absolute masterpiece that comes roaring out of the gate and never lets up. a must-read!

save yours, and take mine from me by @corrosivesaints (Brady/Bucky) another Brady fic and I loveeeeee it!!! this author absolutely nails Brady's prickly little personality and the mutual trust and attraction between him and Bucky. and not just trust to not turn each other in, trust as in knowing they need to keep each other ALIVE. which is basically love. as the author said, "guys who are not normal about each other and never will be" <3

Squared Away by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky) wheeee you know i love me some John whump, and luckily Curt is there to give him what he needs <3 such a vivid writing style, love it!

the vein in my neck adores you by @galetops (Harding/Bucky) hardingbucky hARDINGBUCKY AAAAAAAAAAA!!!! bro!!!!!! oh it's so delicious, power abuse is one of my fave tropes and John gets fuckeddddddd OVER in this one. gripping. devastating tbh.

Would You Mind? by @johnslittlespoon @nicijones (Ken/Bucky and then Ken/Bucky/Gale) HOT! hot! HOT!!!!!! oh god I was literally melting....... KenBucky is so big brained and the way the authors characterize them is just. so good. did I mention it's HOT??!!?!?!

Clegan+Marge:

A Big Surprise by @sweaterkittensahoy (PerpetualMotion) (Clegan+Marge) MARGE GETS THE STRAP OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! biggest yeah buddy ever!!!!!!!

A Horse is Not a Home by @fascinationstrt (Clegan+Marge) Lovely and sweet, explores their post-war trauma and all of them coming together to support each other and also like. literally coming together. hee hee!!

Barefoot and Bareback by @soliloquy-dawn aaaaabrhrfhgh it's so HOT and physical and playful and fun!!! love the little notes of dom/sub floating in and out, truly just feels like you're watching something sweet and sexy between 3 people who love each other!

clegan fics:

3am eternal by @feyd-meowtha 90s club scene AU, oooff it gets messy, deals with the consequences of John's substance abuse and Gale's avoidance and overall both of their lack of communication, and god!! it's so good

a thousand feet per second by anonymous Sub Gale, Dom Bucky and it's delicioussssss, Gale is not doing well <3

another version of me, I was in it by @majorbuckyegan (brianmaybrianmay) post-war, hurt/comfort sex after Bucky has a nightmare reliving running through the forest. love when Gale gently leads Bucky to where he needs to go!!

baby doll eyes by @ladybundle John gets smashed on stalag hooch and ohhh it's hot and sad and beautiful and full of yearning!!!

Baby I’m on Fire & Keep Me Forever by @oopsiedaisiesbaby Teacher Gale and Student John (not underage fic) and yeesh!!! both of them are a menace tbh and I lovedddd both of these!!!

Before the Dawn by @atlanticslide THE stalag fic, like when I envision them in the stalag, it always turns out that I am just remembering something from this fic!!! especially the parts where they are in separate compounds and talking through the fence!?!?! like ouch. like wow. a slowwww burn and it's so worth it!

Branded by @hogans-heroes Gale stalag whump and protective Buckyyyyyyyyyy <3 oh my heart!!!! so good!!!

crossroads by @shipstorms (ipsilateral) has a BoB tag but you don't need any BoB knowledge for this fic!! Bucky and his unrequited love for Gale and it's ouch....it's oh.... I definitely recommend for the beautiful writing!

diamond eyes by @vveissesfleisch (cunninglinguist) whewwwwww dom gale and sub john and it's awesome!! jealousy and desperation and then getting their shit together in the end <3

Extinct Animals by @feyd-meowtha Mad Max AU, but as someone who has 0% familiarity of Max Max franchise, I can assure you no background knowledge is needed. this fic is BRUTAL. this fic is CRAZY!! it's heartbreaking and feral and raw and everyone is clawing for survival and it's soooooo well-written!

futile devices by @drylite ohhhhhh this one will forever be famous in my mind, John gets sick in the stalag and Gale takes care of him but it's so much more than that, this fic is HUGE to me, the feelings and John's descent into his stalag spiral, it's all so beautifully written!!

He Calls Me Bunny by @johnslittlespoon modern AU, John wears a bunny costume to their college Halloween party and Gale fucks him about it <33333333333 HEART EYES FOR THIS FIC!

hit me where the heart is by @london-cowboy / @luckydeuce Ohhhhh my god this fic. THIS FIC!!! modern BDSM AU, John is a medevac helicopter pilot who once transported Gale from a horrible private plane crash, and then they encounter again years later -- but like. ALSO THERE'S SO MANY OTHER THINGS GOING ON AND IT'S ALL MIND-BLOWING!!! past fucked-up Harding/John and current Harding/Gale and that's just the tip of the iceberg. so good. sooooooo good.

i followed fires by @swifty-fox Wild West/spooky supernatural AU. suing for emotional damages!!!!!! genuinely cried from this fic. and not just sniffle sniffle dab at my eyes. I'm talking tears streaming down my face, can't see anymore, this fic is HOLY SHIT WOW.

I think the love I bear you should make you not to die by @amiserableseriesofevents (WonderGinia) soooooo heartwrenching, multiple timelines and so many times they get so close but then lose each other

if it feels like love (then it must be love) by @rangerelizabeth College AU and it's a goddamn masterpiece!! John is Gale's RA and Gale navigates dorm life and college life and a new relationship and it's just. such a great journey from start to end!

jump the gun by @swifty-fox Part 2 of Outlaw AU (highly recommend Part 1 as well, obviously!) and whoa. hits you right in the gut. love love loveeee how swifty weaves the parallels between show canon and this au, while also keeping it super fresh and creative and you never know what's gonna happen next! there's one particular line that absolutely BROKE me......such a good read

kinktober 2024 by anonymous Goddddd. GODDDDDDDDD. Every time I got an update email for this fic, it was like get hand-delivered a delicious slice of chocolate cake that also happened to encompass like every single dirty kink and fantasy I've ever wanted to read???? author is big-brained. author is living in the 4th dimension. READ THESE!!

kiss my cheek, and pretend we're lovers by @euph0riacc Modern Au - Iraq War, and it's soooo creative and the desert setting is so well-described and the whole ensemble is weaved into this new imagining so well!! truly so creative and so well-executed, highly recommend a read!

knuckleball by @drylite PIT STUFF!!!!!!! PIT STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PIT STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let me tell you i was screaming pretty much through my entire reading experience of this. did i mention. pIT STUFF??????????????

let us not desert one another; we are an injured body by @irregularcollapse cannibalism fic oh my godddd oh it's sickeninggggg (positive) it's crazy (positive) it's insane (positive)!!

Looking for Eight by @weimarweekly (VoluptuousPanic) modeln rodeo AU. absolutely blows my mind, every single chapter is so perfectly written, it's vivid and it's sweet and it's truly alive!! definitely take your time to savor each paragraph...so worth it.

love means nothing (in tennis) by @irregularcollapse this was in my part 1, but it's had an updateeeeee since then, so go read it!!! gale's orthorexia and overexercising goes brrrrrr

Moecher by @inpotatoeswetrust (Razor_to_the_rosary) fantastic, very show-like dialogue, love the Curt & Bucky friendship keeping it reallll, deals with John's slippery descent into his alcohol abuse and how hard it is to pull oneself out of that path!! but also like. john jerking off to a stolen letter from Gale. dry humping. HOT!!!

never falter or fail by anonymous Post-war John is in the hospital with temporary amnesia after a flight crash, he's getting visitors from his war days, but perhaps not everyone is who they claim to be....really creative, beautiful storytelling!! i'm hooked!!!

No Proof, One Touch by @c-goldthorn sweat kink!!! pit stuff!!! oh you knowwwww I'm here for it! it's flight school and it's so sweeeeeet too i love them so much your honor

Only You Can Cool my Desire by @johnslittlespoon a one-shot in the Tough and Sweet AU (which you should totally check out!!), Gale's POV this time and oohhh overstimulated, begging, overheated John <3

Rack 'Em Up and Knock 'Em Down by @happy-days19 a whump collection, each chapter is a one-shot and super creative and varied!! love it!!

release, please (no longer on ao3) by anonymous Oh goddd I wish I knew who wrote this, if you're out there plssssss shoot me a message, I love this fic so much!!!! Gale lets John piss himself and then he lets him come and christttt. I legit have this saved on my google drive because it's just like. everything to me.

Sous Le Ciel de Paris by @rambleonwaywardson Modern Olympics AU, Gale is an equestrian and John is a gymnast, super creative and well-researched (as ALWAYS by this author!!) and also HORSIES and also JOHN INJURY! hee hee <3

Stripper, Occasionally Hooker by @donotnomi Modern AU, lawyer Gale and dancer John, this AU is everythinggggg to me!!!! corporate intrigue!! paulina and harding at the law office and ensemble at the club! I can't even put into words how sexy and hot and mindblowing stripper john is, somewhere in the realm of surface of the sun perhaps???? I LOVE THIS FIC OH MY GODDDD. I EAT IT UP. I RE-READ IT CONSTANTLY. go read it, I beg of youuuu

Wind in the Wire by @livelaughlove-write extreme gale whump in the stalag, such a great concept and love seeing the author explore it here!

windfall by @rangerelizabeth modern meet-cute, John meets Gale in a corn maze and pretends to be lost so that they can spend more time together <3 so cute!!

Wrapped Around Your Finger (You Say That I'm A Home Run) by @johnslittlespoon Gale cleans up John's face after he picks a fight, and he's a little mean about it and then they fuck about it and it's great!!!

You Don’t Ever Have to be Stronger Than You Really Are by @oopsiedaisiesbaby ABO fic yeah baby!!! except they're stuck in the stalag and they're both miserable and hungry and itching to get out and oh it hits so good!

You, Me, and the Sky by @oopsiedaisiesbaby Major Character Death, so mind the tags, heartbreaking and gripping and terrifying and beautiful and sad!

"You were doing all this to a toothpick?" by anonymous Gale's oral fixation.....yeah you know where this is going >:-)

Your Idiot by @eternallytired17 John gets hit on a mission and doesn't register it until he's literally collapsing wheeeee!!! so good!!!

[bloody-cupcakes]

Jason Dean x yandere/dark! reader; you surprise him with slushies for breakfast

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, suggestive stuff/frank sex talk as well as implied sex/smutish activities, mentions of insomnia, implied murder, the reader is very clingy and affectionate with JD (almost to a smothering amount but he doesn't mind), this is one of the more tame things I've written tbh

A/N: this is a twist on the "one character gets a blue drink and the other gets a red so naturally their tongues become purple by making out" trope. I literally wrote this in thirty minutes so I could have something posted for heathers day, which is September 1st, so if this sucks then that's why and I'm sorry (and then I got distracted and forgot so it's a day late oops)

JD used to think he hated sleeping in general, but after meeting you he just realized he hated sleeping alone. Laying in bed after downing half a bottle of melatonin gummies while waiting for sleep to kick in wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Lucky for him, you had plenty ways of resolving that issue.

Admittedly, they did a pretty good job at working effectively given that most of them involved you physically wearing him out. Whether it was with murder or sex, either way certainly made it easier for him to slip into a state of exhaustion and conk out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn't mind much. In fact, the act of you tiring him out as quickly as possible once he complained about being unable to sleep was one that he quite enjoyed. He preferred to stay with you anyway. There was nothing at his house that made it worth sticking around other than the few vague personal effects of his, and most of them he'd transferred over to your place already.

The sun was already starting to peek through the blinds when he woke up, which signified he must've slept for a good long while. That didn't surprise him given just how late the two of you had stayed up the night before, but what did surprise him was your absence. Usually you waited until he woke up to leave the bed, or at the very least told him if you were going to get up.

Thank god you walked into the room a few minutes later, because otherwise he would've started to panic, and that was definitely not something he wanted to be doing so early in the morning.

"Hey, baby," you greeted as you kicked off your shoes and set two large Styrofoam cups you'd gotten from the 7/11 near your house on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

JD could practically feel his heartbeat start to slow back down once he saw you. You hadn't abandoned him, you just went out to get some slushies. No problem.

"Mh, yeah," he mumbled groggily as he sat up in the bed, watching you slip off his trenchcoat and toss it to the side. If he had been more awake, the sight of you wearing his clothes would've given him an instant boner, but the drowsiness he still felt was currently cancelling that out.

"Good, I'm glad." You sat down on the bed next to him, gently smoothing his messy hair back from his face before handing him one of the Styrofoam cups. "Here, I know how much you crave slushies the night after sex."

He gladly took the cup from you, immediately taking a big sip. "Thanks." It still felt weird, having someone being so affectionate and loving with him after everything he'd been through. A huge part of him felt like he didn't deserve it, but he knew you'd never leave him even if that was true. Something about how attached you were should've been unnerving, but JD was pretty unnerving himself so he wasn't bothered by it.

"Did you seriously wear your pajamas to go get slushies?" He asked after a moment, his brain finally catching up as he began to wake up more. The cold, sweet drink in his hands certainly helped matters.

"Well, I wasn't going to put on real clothes," you insisted lightheartedly before drinking some of your own slushie, which just so happened to be the opposite color of his. "Besides, we both know they're not going to stay on much longer anyway."

"Oh god," he muttered under his breath, though he was unable to keep the faint smirk of amusement off his face when you said that.

"Here, lemme have your drink for a moment." You placed both cups back on the nightstand before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers as he hadn't gotten properly dressed yet.

"C'mon, I wasn't finished," he complained with a slight huff even as he let you push him flat onto his back with no other protest.

"You can finish later. For now, I say we take the blue and red from our drinks and make purple." Your voice came out in a low tease when you spoke, your body hovering over his as you leaned down to capture his lips in another kiss.

Both of your tongues were successfully colored purple and your drinks were no longer cold when you were done, but it was so worth it.

[living--on--coffee]

The Hunt

Part 1/2

Hunter becomes the hunted.

vampire hunter!reader x vampire!john mactavish x vampire!simon riley

Tags: vampire!john mactavish, vampire! simon riley, vampire hunter!reader, pretty much the hunter becomes the hunted trope tbh, vampire bites, reader is a hunter but also kind of like a detective, gore, blackmailing, predator/prey, vampire bites are aphrodisiac

"Teenage girl, seventeen years old. She was found dead in her room by her family. Nobody saw anyone, nor heard anything. At first they didn't think it was a vampire, the scene was so gory that it was hard to believe a vampire would waste so much blood like that." Blonde woman paused to take a sip from her tea. You watched her slender fingers fiddle with the edge of her mug, waiting for her words to settle. You took a deep breath, Laswell's office always smelled so nice, oak tree and tea with a hint of cigeratte smoke.

"What do you think?" she shifted back in her chair.

"Well, so much to unpack here. Those are not usual vampire behaviours. Vampires only care about blood, not where it comes from."

They don't follow a girl to her house and wait for the right time to break into her house, you think.

When a vampire fails to suppress their feeding urge, they usually go after easy preys. People they can easily snatch away from an empty alleyway, bar bathrooms, places where very few people can see them. They don't become mindless creatures the moment they haven't sunken their fangs into something squishy in days.

"The girl is different. Why else would one of them fuck her first and kill her in the worst way possible? She clearly had something going on with them."

Laswell is nonchalant, cold-blooded all the time which makes her perfect for her job. She's a fast thinker, always good at bringing the pieces together. You've barely seen her take on a case and not know what to do, sit empty handed with a puzzled expression.

This time was an exception.

Fourth murder of the year, and you still haven't even gotten a fucking name.

Laswell's patience was wearing thin. And at this rate, you didn’t have it in you to blame her.

"They all did. That's why we're looking for the suspects that had connections with the victims, not some random vampires that happened to be passing by."

You wanted to defend yourself saying you had already checked their contacts, went through their electronic devices countless of times, searched for the smallest piece of evidence in the crime scene-

"What about the crime scene, anything new?"

Oh, the crime scene.

Blood scent was thick in the air. That was your first impression. The room was filled with sickening smell of rotten flesh and something else that got you bringing your arm collar to your nose.

There was blood, too much of it. That was the second. It adorned the room, not leaving a corner uncovered. It splattered across the walls, some of it onto the band posters on the walls to make deformed patches on the squeky paper. A big amount of it dripped down the bedframe so much that it managed to make a puddle thick enough to make vibrant red stand out on the dark parquet floor.

It was everywhere except for where it belonged, the cold body that rested on the soft bed sheets.

You approached the body with slow steps. The closer you got the worse it got. Once blurry sight turned into a gory mess of broken bones and ripped flesh. Brittle bones jutted out of a carved open chest. If you looked closer you could see the organ that once pumped the essence of life through her body for years, only to be drained off of all it's purpose along with it's owner.

You wanted to graze your fingers on where flesh was torn the most, the rugged edges that had been too weak to withstand the cruel swipes of fangs and claws. Maybe that way you would be able to feel all that glorious force yourself, see what exactly a determined vampire could do, see what you're getting yourself into. You cling dearly to bring together what little remains of the vampire's presence, desperate for the tiniest sign that could help you piece the puzzle together.

Finger-shaped blood stains made a trail leading to her navel. Scrapes and bruises littered her soft thighs. Deep nasty groves making a stark contrast on silky skin. Between her legs was an even bigger mess. Dried blood and semen clung to the curls between her legs.

Blood and grime caked under her fingernails, a futile attempt to harm her attacker. You could form an image, though the barely there certainity held your imagination back it wasn't hard at all to get goosebumps at the slightest thought of the savagery. Being invaded both body and soul and against all your best attempts all your defenses which you trust the most failing you, they're just not enough-

She had fought nail and teeth, literally. She tried to use her blunts nails against them. With no assuration she'd still fought for this was all she could do.

What a horrible fate she must've went through,tou thought. She deserved to be alive, fine with a hopeful mind that was fortunate enough to not experience any of these. You wanted to mourn over her life, her youth, everything that had been taken away she never got to enjoy. Maybe with a want that stemmed from wanting to find a companion to your emotionally state you turn your head up, to where her face sits over a battered neck.

Your eyes rake over her bloody neck, mouth. Dead, sunken eyes with deep purple marks around them. It was sad really, at such a young age-

Something was off.

It was some kind of a thought coming from the basest part of you. Like you just noticed something you hadn't before. When you did, you knew it was uncanny, something wrong.

Her face, as a whole, had a serene expression. You wondered if it was your imagination or an optical illuson from how little you slept. You looked closer, to the subtle curve of her lips, to the keen light that still managed to stay behind there. It was trying to tell you something, someth-

"Her face..." words leave your mouth before you could stop them. "She...looked serene."

Shock and judgement contorts her face. She looks like she can't decide whether to scowl at you or simply seek therapy for you. Before she can say something cutting you step in.

"We can't keep doing this."

Laswell gives you a faltered expression. You continue. "We just wait for a new murder to happen and do the same things we did in the previous cases. We need something different."

"What should we do then? Enlighten me."

You take a deep breath.

"Let me do my job. Send me to that club."

"We don't have enough evidance to have a permission to organize such mission."

"That's right but what about I go there alone, as a civilian? You won't need to sneak in any teams, I will just gather information and-"

"Send you inside alone? No, absolutely not." she interrupts.

"I was trained for this. I will be fine." you try to convince her.

"The moment they find out who you really are they will tear you to shreds."

You close your mouth at that. You both know that there's truth to her words. You pause.

"I can't just wait here doing nothing."

It sounds like pleading. You could feel yourself work up the courage to ask for that permission again. Somewhere inside you where your sense of duty and fear clashes.

"I will think about it"

You don't know if you're content or terrified by the possibility that lays behind that sentence.

You're sitting on your bed, facing the wall.

If a vampire was to come into your room and decide to kill you, could you put up a fight?

You have a gun in your nightstand's drawer, loaded with silver bullets. A knife under your pillow. A silver dagger in your pocket at all times.

If they were to come into your room, would you be able to pull out your knife and stab it into their heart? Watch them bleed and writhe in agony before they can get to you?

Probably not.

You're only human, after all. A bait in best case scenarios. Even when you've spent years training to fight vampires, that only makes you harder to kill for them. Your training only delays the inevitable. Never the hunter, but a stronger prey. It eats your mind.

All your work, your hopes, your ambitions. Do they even matter? You feel like you're a child and everyone around you is trying to keep you occupied with less important things to avert your attention away from the real problems. It's like they know what having your job means, like they are trying to protect you. You find their efforts insulting.

That doesn't mean you don't find some truth about their concerns. You wish you could.

The club is loud. Walls are painted red and black, they turn into navy blue and purple when exposed to blue lights. Your form blends in with the crowd, blue lightning highlights your form, your skin. In your mind It seeps right through you, showing how transparent you're, just like you intended.

You put effort to look this way, to look casual. Opposite of eye-catching. Your hair is resting on your shoulders, your pants hugging your legs nicely but still comfortable enough to let you use your legs freely. Your leather jacket hiding the silver dagger strapped to your side.

You slice through the crowd, smell of stale alcohol and sweat fills your senses. You watch people come and go, each one of them telling a different story. You check them out if they're vampire or not mentally as a result of working for years in your field. Even though differentiating vampires from humans is almost impossible just from the looks, your eyes linger on a few who don't bother with hiding themselves.

Bright, platinium blonde hair of the vampire curtains her ivory fangs flashing behind red, luscious lips. You watch, hypnotized as they arrive at their destination, to the frail neck of some brunette girl. Sharp tips brushed against vulnerable flesh, leaving red trace in their wake. Manicured nails clinging to her hair only encouraged them more.

You feel a shudder shoot up your spine. Junkees, you think.

A familiar face shows up in the crowd. Graves, who is your partner for the night.

You never liked graves. You'd tried to get along with him as your coworker, have a respectable relationship together, you really did, but it never worked out. Not when the guy is acting like a literal creep.

When you were at the funeral of a fallen comrade he dared to make a senseless comment about how glad he was it hadn't been you because it'd be a shame for someone as pretty as you to die so early. Still he's experienced in his field and better than nothing.

You flinch when Graves' hand snakes down to pet your ass softly.

You glare at him in a way only he can see and dance out of his reach with slow steps.

Two steps back, turn around, stare at people, read the room. Answers are hidden in the plain sight. They can be in the aphrodisiac that drips from the vampire's fangs 2 metres away from you or in the eyes that never ceased their stare since the you stepped into the club, always on your back, always watching.

Some man comes into your view, blocking your vision. His eyes fixated on you as you swing to sides. It takes about 2 minutes until his focus shifts, clearly displeased at your lack of interest. When it does you look for Graves wanting to keep on dragging the two of you to the spots in the club that you've yet to see. That's when your stomach sinks, he is nowhere to be found.

You feel cold all of a sudden. All the sweat that gathered on your skin from the humid air turned ice cold, leaving you shivery and faint. You check the crowd, turn your head to your left and right, draw a big circle around the room. But he's just gone.

You round a sharp corner that leads you to a dark corridor, only lightened dimly by a light source coming from somewhere your vision can't quite reach.

Here you are, standing in an eerie corridor in a building surrounded by vampires all by yourself. Your hand itches near your pockets, you tell yourself it's to grab your weapons if necessary, not to reach your phone and call Laswell and beg her for backup.

You don't know where you're going, and certainly not what's waiting for you on the other end of this corridor. But you have a gut feeling that you're about to find out soon.

Your ears perk up at the sound of squeking boots coming behind you. Your hand readily finds the silver handle in a swiftness born from years of experience and training. Though you react a little too late because strong arms come out of nowhere and slam your back against the wall. You let out a stifled groan.

The man gets closer, his facial features highlightens and it's hard to not notice two longer fangs jutting out behind his lips.

Panic rises in your body, your blood vessels tightens, forcing the liquid in your veins to run faster. Your hands are useless, unmobilized by vampire's hand.

It's over, you think. You're completely at the man's mercy, if he decides that he wants have a little more blood than usual he can suck you dry right here and now.

To your unfortune, by the looks of him, it seems about the right time you start begging for mercy. You have never been bitten before, and with the experience you got over the years from your job, you know what happens once you do. You swallow your pride

His fangs elongate, a strange glow blends into his irises. A characteristhic feature about the nature of vampires that have had the lab workers in the base fussing their head over to figure out what the hell it is. It's known to manifest visions, snake the vampire into vulnerable human brain. You close your eyes and wait for what's to come. His breath ghosts near your ear.

"You should've never came here dumb, little human." his cracked voice murmured into your ear.

There's a grunt, a rush of air hits your face. When you open your eyes you're greeted by the brawl of two men on the ground and a not so stranger face.

Mactavish.

He's a vampire, one of the stronger ones that shows with how quickly he knocked the man to the ground. In a blur of motion he has the man by the scruff of his neck. Before the man can make a move to defend himself, he punches the man's teeth in with such force that you hear bones crunching.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You must be more shaken than you thought and it must show to your face because when you don't answer he closes the distance between you and gently holds your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

You're hesitant at answering him. Your eyes feel heated and there's a bump in your throat. Making you feel like you'll start bawling like a child if you were to say a word.

So you just nod shakily, averting your gaze away from him as you try to force your racing pulse to slow down. Your breath events out, the presence of another vampire in the room is hard to dismiss in your shaken state, but you kind of manage. What the fuck were you doing here, really? This place is the last place a lone human should be, instead you-

Graves. You were looking for Graves.

How long time had you lost standing here? With a newfound panic, you look up to him with wide eyes.

"Graves, he was with me in the club but then he just disappeared. I need to find hi-"

A blood curling scream interrupts you. Instictively you both turn your head to the end of the corridor, to the direction the sound came from.

You thoughtlessly start to run. A thousand possibilities fill your mind as you sprint through the corridor.

It ends in a dark alleyway. The kind of alleyway people makes sure to avoid walking.

There are blood drops on the ground and Graves is nowhere to be found.

He took him.

First you hear sirens, then screams coming from inside of the club and shuffling of footsteps. You turn around to check on Mactavish. You find him gone.

Your name echoes in Laswell's office, snapping your attention back to her. You feel so big, vast, hard to miss in the small room. Like a whale put in a small pond, nowhere to run from the piercing glares and stinging words.

You want to shrink into yourself, curl up on the floor and die. But you don't because you're in no position to be embaressed. That'd be too merciful for you. Not what you deserve for your actions.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Laswell condemns. Her voice is loud by her standarts, if you were a civilian you would've jolted in your seat.

You don't jolt, you don't flinch. Your irresponsibility caused this. You don't open you mouth for even once to correct her or to defend yourself, instead you take her words, suck them up.

It all turns into a blur. Far away you're wandering in different places, present in the room and not at the same time. You understand every word yet you're content with just throwing them away. So rooted in yourself that you're convinced you're already aware of what she has to say to you.

"You're taken from this case."

One sentence is enough for your self-controlled dazed state to shatter into pieces. The pieces burst through your ears making a hoeling sound, they flow through your blood vessels with their icy edges, making your skin go cold.

"I arrested people for less."

Raindrops pitter patter against the windshield of your car. Autumn air is set heavy, trying to get into the warmness of your car yet failing. All it can do is to manifest itself as foggy remains on the car windows.

You've been sitting in your car and drinking. After two beers and some wine that got into your system you're still thirsty, your need for a calm mind is more evident than ever.

You're not drunk yet, maybe a tad tipsy. You waryly eye the bag of groceries in the backseat. The vodka bottle peeks out from the bag, looking very inviting at the moment.

A man walks past the parking lot. Even when drunk, your senses are alert. Corner of your vision catches his imposing figure, wide shoulders.

His eyes give him away.

Even after figuring him out his eyes spare you from actually observing him. They just grasp your attention like a thread and make themselves known even from such distance. They're so captivating that you feel exposed even though you're the watcher here. The safety of your car doesn't stop your imagination from creating phantom sensations of someone watching you.

You don't think much about it. You're out of the car following him in an instant.

You put a considerable distance between. When he enters some pub you wait for fifteen minutes before stepping inside.

The pub is mundane, a place nice to be around. People's chitter-chattering fills the room, laughter flows freely. You take a seat near a bar counter and casually order a beer.

You rake over the tables while sipping your beer. When your eyes land on your target you smile.

He's sitting there, chatting with someone you can't see past your blocked view.

You can't help but once again be charmed by him. His energy is enchanting, It's radiating off him. You nearly gasp when he flashes his perfect smile to whoever lucky person is sitting across him. His presence almost offends you, almost.

You go back to sulking in your chair. "Just get on with it." you think. You turn around to give him an inviting smile, a flirty one, maybe. You have a short-lived panic when you can't find him where you left.

"Are you following me?" a deep voice says from the chair next to you. You nearly crawl out of your skin. You missed he's as skilled as you. Still you force yourself to reciprociate. Snap back with the same fever.

"That's my line."you protest.

He gives you a blank stare, weighing your words. His eyes lit up when he finally gets it. His previous cockines slowly vanishes into understanding. He's taken back, you see the oppurtunity and attack.

"What were you doing in that club?"

You can feel it, his uneasiness. His grimace is a defence shield, a useless attempt at appearing cool but failing. Or so you hope.

"Sometimes I think you forget that I'm an officer too, lass." he mocks. You want to punch him in the face.

"Graves died and you were there."

"Laswell was worried you were up to something stupid."he explains calmly while ordering a new drink. This sentence is enough to shut you up. Laswell trusted another person to complete the holes in your case.

You shift back into your seat in defeat, though you're not about to reveal this to him soon.

To your dismay, he seems to pick on your mood. "Laswell was thinking about involving me in this case for a long while."

You open your mouth to protest but you look up to see that smirk.

"Don't be so judgeful yet, you haven't even tried me."

...

You've been well acquainted to the rumors, gossips about Mactavish.

At first everyone had taken him with caution, with the disbelief that he was even allowed to exist here. Your superiors had convinced you that having a vampire by their side had been the best decision ever.

He's like a machine, more durable than any vampire hunter they've had.

After all, only a vampire can withstand the force of one of their kind.

Their words had been stinging, but they had some truth to them. As much as having him was the same as having a fox in a coop full of chickens, he'd proved himself with killing tens of his kind. After this point whatever critism one had for him would beg the questions to their performance as a hunter.

His position as a vampire hunter is a contrast to everything you had to learn.

Vampires cannot be trusted. They could be anyone, anything and you wouldn't even notice until it's too late.

After all, humans have very valid reasons not to trust vampires. Vampires literally evolved to hunt humans.

They adapted to being a parasite species, they used evolution to their advantage, letting it shape them into being what they're in the present day.

They come from the deepest pits of hell. Their power is serpentine, it unravels through their eye sockets, wriggles it's way through feeble human mind. Carves a nest in the brain, seeping into every little crevice and curve, rotting the brain from inside to the point of no return. When they finallyTheir eyes lurk

In most scenarios the victim becomes dependent on them. Obsessed, being left with no chance but having their mind high on their venom. The victim obliviously becomes addicted to them, letting them feed on their blood, body, mind for the smallest amount of venom. The life is slowly being sucked dry off them, yet they still beg for more.

A dangerous obsession that in most scenarios ends in death.

It's a cloudy tuesday. The exhaustion from the past month slowly wears off like autumn leaves falling off the trees in your yard.

You have some phone calls from Graves' family, rightfully worried about his case and how will you handle it. At first you got rude comments and blamings for not being enough. The time seemed to soothe their hate a bit.

You arrive at your home and step through the doorstep. You're prepared to slip out of your shoes when you notice something odd about your house. It smells like... roses? Rose scent is not your pick for the room sprays. It doesn't take you long to notice a bouquet of roses sitting on the floor a few steps away.

There'd been someone in your home.

There's a trail of rose petals. You pull out your gun follow the rose petals like it's a path of blood trail. You walk past your kitchen, climb the stairs. All the while you check out the other rooms.

Rose petals end in your bedroom. They lead to a big box laying on your bed. The packaging looks expensive, decorated with a tasteful manner.

You go to the bathroom to grab some plastic gloves. You slip your fingers through the powdery rubber. You wield the box, keep it near your ear, shake it and try to figure out what's inside. Whatever is inside it sounds soft, like ruffling of fabric.

You decide it's not a bomb or something dangerous and start to work on the packaging. The thick ribbon unfurls like water under your hands. After other materials of packaging are gone you peek at the things that greet you from the box.

At the top is another package from a luxirous clothing brand. You twist your face in disgust when you unfold the fabric and see it's a red pair of lingerie. You try to ignore it. Under it is a small fancy jewellery box with a golden necklace in it. You test it's weight in your palm and gawk at the size of the stone at the end of it. You're not sure if it's real or not, but the workmanship alone must've costed hundreds.

There are smaller items stashed in the box: A red lipstick, a bottle of wine and a smaller box.

The small box is different from the others, it doesn't have a brand name written on it. In fact, it looks more like the handiwork of a middle school kid. The packaging is neatly done, but minor flaws succeed to show themselves. You imagine slightly shaking hands from excitement wrapping it.

Surprised to find such personal touch after all the expensive brands in the box, you open it with the caution, unsure what to expect.

You touch over the velvet fabric draped on the thing. It has sturdy, hard ridges that give away when pressed on them. Covered in some squishy, fleshy material.

Your blood goes cold when you understand what it is. To test your assumption you smooth your hand over the fabric, feeling the perfect shape of a human hand underneath.

Your hands shake as you lift the fabric and peek to the hand that was cut from the wrist. You almost throw the box to the across the room while you hyperventilate and once again be face to face with the reality of your job.

You notice a note at the bottom of the box. Crooked letters littered around the thick paper that says:

-I want to see you in those.

They took the hand, gave the rest of the box back to you after investigation. Probably didn't know what to do with the lingerie, you thought.

Crime scene investigators had stormed in when you explained what you had found. They inspected every corner of your house that they probably know more about your house than you at this point.

You leaned back in your office chair as you fiddled with your pen. You hear a knock on your door.

"It's me, Johnny, can I come in?" Johnny asks. You tell him to come in. He brings a file with him.

"I found something. Some residants reported a man wearing a skull mask. It's worth to take a look into." he says as he makes himself home with dragging a chair in front of your desk.

A skull mask. You remember the night Graves was taken. You nod slowly. "He might be our guy." you approve.

Johnny hands you over the files. He eyes you as you rake over the files. He looks like he has something to say and he would burst if he couldn't say it.

"What?" you try to urge him on.

He looks somewhat confused. "Did you find some kind of note in the box? Or a letter? He obviously wanted your attention, at that point why not leave an explanation?" he asks innocently.

You feel like you've been caught red-handed. How could he know? You didn’t tell anyone about the note.

"No, there was nothing."

Johnny nods understandingly.

"So, are you going to stay in your house? It must be uncomfortable knowing a killer just got into your house. If you need a place I can help." he offers.

"Thank you but I'm staying over at my friend's. You're right It would be very uncomfortable." you half lie. You told your friend you'd stay for a week, but you know after three days you'd find a hotel to stay, reluctant to overstay your welcome.

"The box, I heard our killer has a good taste in presents. The girls are still talking about the lipstick." Johnny makes an attempt to soften the conversation.

"Oh yeah, I was shocked when I first saw it. I don't understand why would he go through this. Not to mention the pric-"

"Well, after spending all that money he better has chosen some pieces that suit your taste." he interrupts. Then he frowns like he tries to remember something.

"Uh, like the lingerie."

Your eyes widen.

"What?"

He looks at you like he doesn't understand why you're surprised at such casual question.

"The lingerie, as example. Did you like it?"

The drive to the motel is silent.

You have to admit, it's better than you expected. The dust makes itself known as soon as you pull the curtains to sides to let some light in, but still that's better than staying back home.

You change into your sleep clothes, do your skincare, comb your hair. You do anything to make it feel like home, to feel the blissful ignorance.

You pull the sheets over your head and you realize that you forgot something.

Your pillow feels too soft, as if lacking something hard, something with a weight under it. Your hand itches to grab the cold metal, desperate to feel the security that comes from it's sharp edges, the glint of silver that dance over it.

You end up putting a silver knife under your pillow, another on the nightstand.

At least now you don't feel as vulnerable.

There are hands roaming your body. Large palms pawing at your hips, a warm breath ghosting over your neck. A deep voice whispers words into your ear you can't quite decipher.

Your mattress shifts under the weight of a second person. You feel the cold all over your body now. Whoever, whatever it is, the thing is huge. It blankets your body with it's massive frame. Your body twitches, desperately tries to jolt you awake so you can face the danger, or run away from it.

You hear footsteps that are not of the person above you. There's a third person in the room with you. You open your eyes.

You try to push the bulk off your body, try to squirm free but fail. You turn your head to the side to see who's the second man, but your head is roughly yanked to the side. Your eyes meet with cold, soulless eyes, dark like the pits of hell. You slip back into your sleepy haze, but still fully awake.

Fangs glint like knifes in the dark, you try to scream loud enough to rattle the motel, but instead only pathetic whimpers get out. Someone hushes you, pets your hair when tears stream down your cheeks.

A wet tongue laves over your pulse, your breath is shortened to hiccups now. A maw attaches itself onto your neck, and finally it bites into your neck, drawing your blood from your veins.

Your mouth opens on a silent scream, the mouth that's not biting you closes on yours.

You wake drenched in sweat and dread still clinging to your bones. There's coldness in your chest, as if your heart is pumping ice and not blood.

Pain ghosts over your neck. You shoot you hand up to feel it, your hand comes back clean.

You wriggle out of your sheets, trying to let your sleep sweat dry off first to warm yourself. Your hands are numb as you check the time from your phone.

It's seven in the morning. There's a notification you need to squint your eyes to read. Your heartbeat almost stops when you see it's from Laswell.

-See me when you're here.

You stare blankly for one minute, trying to understand if you're in trouble or not. You weigh the possibilities and let your dream slowly dissolve into thin air. When you try to remember what it was about darkness and carnage are the only things that paint your mind.

"They caught someone, a vampire. His DNA matches with the samples we've gotten from all three murders. However, we suspect that he doesn't work alone, you might want to interrogate him." She ends with an exasperated sigh.

With a nod you make a move to get out.

"Wait." Laswell says. When she has your attention back she continues.

"He wanted to talk to you. He said your name. " She says slowly, tentatively. As if she can't even trust her own words. It's your turn to be surprised.

"What?"

"We tried interrogating him while you gave your statement for the night. He said he won't talk unless it's you who's interrogating him."

There are a lot of things you want to say. Instead you just give her a shaky nod and close the door behind you.

The room they keep vampires is not like your usual interrogation room. It is sound-proof. There are two doors next to each other to deal with the lackness of human eye that can't catch up with super vampire speed. Handcuffs are thicker, made of a stronger element than iron, so is the mirrored glass in front of you.

You approach the mirrored glass. The vampire is tied to a metal chair. Even with his hunching posture he looks imposing, threatening. The fact that he's restrained by heavy chains doesn't silence the small part of you that shys away. There's blood all over his hands and up to his arms, corners of his mouth. The chains look a little too tight around his bulging muscles. He's muscular everywhere, his arms, his thighs, his neck-

"Are you going to just stare or do something here?" The man says without turning his gaze at you. His voice was dark, just like what you had expected from this monster of a man. It was unexpected, he wasn't supposed to see you. It makes you jolt in where you stand. Maybe he felt the vibrations of your footsteps, you think. You decide not to move until he thinks you're gone.

"I can smell you, you're still there." he chuckles darkly. It's merely a chuckle, too dry and raspy to be considered one. Actually there are hints of mocking in his tone.

You sigh and decide there's no meaning in hiding. You open the first door with scanning your card, and then the second one. When you're inside the door clicks shut behind you.

The man stirs, he tilts his head to your direction, though you know it's more of a show.

You loudly drag the metal chair and situation yourself in front of him with putting a considerable distance between you and him.

"How do you know my name?"You ask.

He doesn't answer, just like you thought.

"Unbind me."he demands.

His useless attempt almost makes you laugh.

"Why would I do that

"If you cooperate we might consider making you some favors." you try again.

He tilts his head.

"What do you want?" his voice is gruff, low in pitch, yet it still manages to seep into your brain.

"A location. Tell me where is Phillips Graves."

He huffs amusedly at your demand.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise, love. Figured you'd want to find whatever is left of him all by yourself."

His words make you sick to your stomach. The implication hidden behind them is enough to make you worry about your position in the eyes of your coworkers. You try to regain your authority over him.

"You're sentenced for-"

"Did you like your present?" he interrupts.

"I picked out the contents very mindfully. I even asked your friend for help, it was kind of him to lend a helping hand in." he ends his sentence with a dry chuckle. You don't find his joke funny.

"Where is he?" you say sternly.

"What am I getting out of this?"

Nothing, you want to say.

"The court will grant your cooperation positively, I can say." you explain.

He shakes his head.

"Will you wear the lingerie I bought you? Spread your legs, and bare your neck for me?"

His lewd comments makes your cheeks warm. You're glad he can't see the shocked expression on your face.

"That won't happen."

"Or should I do it myself? One of those nights I can just come through your window and prove you wrong."

After witnessing how easily he broke into your house you know very well that he can. That's why his words send chills up your spine.

But now is different. He's chained, restrained, you're safe.

It's your turn to chuckle.

"You're chained to a chair in a high security room, you will rot for the rest of your life in a prison cell. You're not going anywhere."

The man in front of you shifts in his seat. You hear the creaking metal, clinking of chains. It's okay, you think. That seat was made to withstand hundreds of pounds of force.

The metal bends, something in the air snaps.

He's on you in an instant.

Broken chains dangle from his limbs as he lounges at you. You shout at him to get away. You don't make it to the door when he lays all his body weight on you, caging you between the ground and his bulk.

He huffs like a beast above you. His breath hits the back of your head. When you try to shout for help he grabs you by the scruff of your neck and shakes. You whimper when he buries his face in your neck, right above your pulse point. He inhales deeply.

"You smell different, not like you do when you're sleeping." you thrash harder at his words. You can feel his smile against your neck, his fangs scratching the skin there.

"My big, scary hunter, are you afraid?" he says mockingly.

It doesn't take long after that and armed guards storm in the room, haul him off your body. They half-drag you shocked form out the room.

In your stumble you manage to get a glimpse of him behind you, calm as ever, showing no signs of struggle as guards restrict him once again. Like he got what he wanted.

There's a content smile on his lips. A wry, awful thing. Like he just accomplished his plan.

You park your car near the warehouse.

Birds chirp in the background, the sun gleams bright over the rusty planes of the warehouse. The warehouse is sturdy, still thriving in a way but looks like It hasn't had a touch up for years.

You idle around the building for a while. You check its surroundings, the houses around that looks like nobody lived in them in the past five years.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. A message pops up in your screen. It's from Johnny.

-Sorry, just had a change in plans.

You roll your eyes at the message. You're about to march back to your car when you suddenly have a strong urge to go on. Something deep in your senses tells you to move on, keep going until you find your target.

You're not the one to ignore your sixth sense, not when it hasn't failed you yet.

The door creaks when you push it open. The room is not very dark, just light enough to make out your surroundings.

The first room is mostly empty. There are supplies scattered on the floor, they have a thick layer of dust gathered on them from years of disuse.

You pass through the corridor and center a new room. It's smaller and smells like chemicals. The room has no windows, It's very dark. You turn on your flashlight.

It's shocking to see so many pictures on the table, on to the walls and everywhere. You squint your eyes to get a better look. When you realize the face in the pictures is actually yours your blood turns ice cold.

Pictures taken of you at work, out in a Cafe, in your house. Pictures of you talking, laughing, crying. Your breath hitches when you notice they're not only photographs but also classified informations none outside of work should know. Personal information of the victims, your coworkers, you.

You almost jump out of your skin when your phone rings. It's Laswell. You answer it with shaky hands.

"I-"

"Now listen carefully. There's been a situation." Her voice is anxious.

"What situation?"

"He broke out. We're still searching how he did it but wherever you are, you're not safe. Find-"

A thump sounded from outside. Your hand holding the phone freezes, you stay quiet as Laswell keeps speaking on the other end. You end the call, turn off your flashlight.

You grasp your knife so tight your knuckles turn white.

Someone is forcing open the door, you can't just wait there in the open. You can't outrun a vampire, but you can hide until the help arrives. So you dive into pitch darkness.

From what little you remember you try to navigate through the room. If only you could get to the back door-

You come to a halt in your steps. The sudden coldness envelopes you. Your eyes are too weak to see in the dark, but your senses paint an enough picture of what could be towering over you right now. The coldness radiates off him and settles deep in your bones. His gaze could drill a hole right through your forehead. You tilt your head up to where you think his face is.

You can't see him, but he can see you.

"Here you are, darling. Did you miss me?" his voice sends chills down your spine.

You make a move to gut him, that only earns you a harsh push into a room near you. You stumble and try to find your footing. You blindly slash your knife through the air, a useless attempt to keep him away. You scream at him to stay away.

For a blissful second, you could almost believe that worked. You're getting cornered deeper into the room, but from what little you could tell he's not around you anymore.

You try to subdue your breathing to normal, taking small steps back.

You scream when you bump into someone, your hand catching on some clothing, a lean chest. After this point, you act on instinct.

You knife lodges into where a heart should lay, in front of his chest, slightly on the left side of his sternum. A painful whimper finds your ears. That's not enough for you.

There's still resistance in his muscles, you take out the knife and stab him again, again and again until his body no longer convulses, until he's nothing but a lifeless body on the ground.

You fall onto your knees next to him. When the adrenaline fades away you break down, a small hiccup escapes your mouth before you can stop it, tears of joy and relief stream down your cheeks.

It's over, it's finally over, you think.

"Very good, good girl." a deep voice says from the entrance of the room.

The lights turn on and you are finally able to see. Your eyes find the blond man by the doorfence first, then they find the man laying motionless on the floor. His face is barely distinguishable from all the blood covering it, but that doesn't stop you from recognizing your coworker you had shared years working with.

Graves, you just killed Graves.

Your eyes flit between the man and Graves as if you can't believe what's happening now is real. You shake your head side to side, put your hands on your head.

"No, no, no." your voice is a hoarse whisper, your voice sound got knotted in your throat.

"I-I didn't, I-"

He doesn't wait for you to explain yourself. He advances on you, pushing you against the wall. When your back meets the wall, he gently grabs your cheek. Your cries are shortened to little hiccups. You weakly push at his chest, try to punch him in the face. He's unfazed at your attempts to hurt him.

"Shh now. Be good for me." he soothes.

He tilts your head up, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. When you understand what he's about to do you struggle with a renewed strength, all to no avail.

He drinks in your smell, his breath tickling the fine hairs on your neck. His fangs graze at your pulse point. You let out a blood curdling scream when they sink into you.

For a moment you think you're being devoured alive.

Your vision is blurry, your legs gave out beneath you, your head cradled by a large hand. You can only whine confusedly when he takes you in his arms and starts walking.

There's one last thing you hear before the world goes black.

"I'm taking you home."

Your neck throbs like a screwdriver is being twisted in it, jolting you awake from your peaceful sleep.

You're cocooned in soft sheets that smell like detergent. The moonlight seeps inside through an open window, just barely illuminating the room.

You sit up in bed and immediately regret it because of the rush of pain from stretching the wound on your neck. You whimper.

Your head feels fuzzy, you can't focus. You don't remember anything. You're chilled, suddenly the room is too cold for you. You look down. You're wearing a black, satin dress. The delicate fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. You feel under the straps, there's another clothing underneath. Lacy, dainty-

A lingerie.

You scramble out the bed, scattering the bed sheets to the ground. Standing up so quickly in your weakened state makes your head spin, you stumble forward and someone catches you.

"Easy." Johnny balances you in his arms.

"Simon took too much this time, you'll be fine."he assures. You don't understand.

"What do you mean?" you ask. He doesn't answer.

"Can you walk?"

Like a newborn fawn you try to balance yourself on your shaking legs. He decides you can't and he swoops you up in his arms.

Your head sags as Johnny carries you downstairs. You go into a big room with warmness spreading from a fireplace in the corner. There are two chairs near the fireplace. A man is sitting in one of them, his keen eyes fixated on your form.

You recognize him. It all dawns on you. The memories flood at once into your mind. The terror settling deep in your bones. You trash in Johnny's arms as you approach the vampire. You call him insults, call him a traitor. When he transfers you into Simon's waiting arms you fall silent.

You sit in his lap as he cards his fingers through you hair in a soothing gesture. His breath fans over your head, smelling of blood. Your blood.

"You killed them." your voice waves a little, you tell yourself that's because of your weak state, not because you're scared.

His attention shifts to your words. He only lets out an approving "mhm" sound.

"I got you, you were- how did you even get out?"

His eyes avert to the man behind you.

The hard texture of plastic bumps to the side of your face. Your personal card is being held at the tip of your card holder. It all makes sense.

"I- They will come for me. I'm very important for them." your voice stutters.

"None is coming to save you. If anything, they'd rather have you dead after everything you've done." Johnny calmly explains from behind you. You falter.

"I will just explain everything to them, it was an acciden-"

"It doesn't seem like an accident to me, what do you think Johnny?" Simon asks. What is he talking about?

"No, Simon. It definitely looks like she had been helping us all along."

You understand what they mean very well now. You knew your plan was flawed from the beginning, but you never thought you would fuck up that badly.

You have nowhere to run.

"No, no. I will run away, you will see." you try. It is hard to speak past the knot that has newly formed in your throat.

"You're not going anywhere unless you want to be shot dead. You name is all over the news. Besides," he ducks his head to talk directly into your ear.

"Now that you have my bite, my mark, you can never hide from me. Wherever you're, I will find you."

This sentence makes you feel like your fate just got sealed.

[grimsonandclover]

hi j came across ur blogs and FINALLY. someone who doesn’t write about puppy art or stepcest. i tbh would read anhtbjng abt patrick but i love childhood best freind patrick fics or enemies to lovers fics the most!!

All I Want For Christmas

Childhood Bestfriend!Patrick Zweig x classical singer!reader

Song of the post 'WHAT'S IT TO HIM? - Quadeca'

The first part of this holds opinions I can't even fully stand by anymore thanks to challengers brainrot. i kinda like some of the puppy stuff ive seen. i still wont write stepcest. for this reason I've just deleted that part of my reply

Anyways, fuck, I love these two tropes so much, I could eat them for breakfast lunch and dinner and still have them as snacks and still never tire. but childhood friends to lovers >>> im such a softy for it. I wrote this the moment I saw your message, so it's semi-proofread, more so just me writing the little story I thought of as it came to me. if you want a smutty part two lmk and ill write it in a flash

I have no clue where the Christmas theme came from, it just kinda happened. I don't even celebrate Christmas lmao.

This was meant to be a blurb. Now it's a 5k word slow burn blurb. Hope you enjoy!

also the song linked has nothing to do w the story lmao, it's just what's playing. <3 quadeca

SFW

5.3k words

childhood bestfriend!Patrick Zweig, Never dates Tashi/Loses Art!AU, slow burn, timeskips, no content warnings

--(x)-- 1998 - 2006 --(x)--

You both grew up quite rich, you and Patrick Zweig. Going to the same charity events and galas and birthday dinners as kids because your parents would drag you both along to brag about your accomplishments. Patrick's parents would brag about how he's a tennis prodigy that's gonna go pro one day, have you seen him play? And your parents brag about your voice and your grades, how youre gonna get into any school you want (which you would be able to anyways since theyd just pay the school board). You've got the voice of an angel and since you were four they'd make you get up at parties and events and sing something by the piano. You were groomed to love the spotlight just like Patrick was groomed to love the rush of tennis.

Patrick loved hearing you sing. When you'd be ushered over to your spot by the piano player and ask the adults what they'd like to hear, Patrick would sit up from his slump at the dinner table or sofa, perking up like a dog being told its time for treats. He didn't really know anything about music, he just knew your voice did something in his chest.

You loved seeing him play. Your family had plenty of casual tennis players of its own, tennis being quite a popular sport amongst the wealthy. You understood the gist of it, but that wasn't why you asked your parents to go every time Patrick got to play. You wanted to go because it felt like the closest thing to seeing a shooting star up close. He was like a fireball on the court, even from a young age. His couches kept trying to train the unique serve out of him, you could see their cringing from the sidelines whenever he'd do it, but eventually they stopped when they realized how much he won with it. Because he did. A lot. It was mesmerizing to watch.

One Christmas the two of you finally properly spoke to eachother. You were both ten. Your parents had all gotten wine drunk in the other room, leaving the kids to try and get along in the Zweig's living room. The Christmas parties were always held at the Zweig house, it was the biggest. Didn't matter that they were Jewish. Never even crossed their mind, too big of an oppertunity to schmooze and secure business deals. Patrick never gave it a second thought, just happy he got gifts.

You two had just sat down by the fireplace as the other older kids convened on how to sneak some liquor without anyone noticing. You were too young to care about things like that, instead talking to eachother about school and your respective passions. It was the first proper conversation you'd had even though you had practically been in each other's lives since birth. Patrick liked hearing about the unserious gossip from your all-girls private school, how once again you were on the deans list and top of the class. He found it the funniest thing in the world when you confessed that you'd cheated on a math exam, your weakest subject. How you'd done that quite often actually. Patrick liked knowing you weren't as perfect as your parents boasted you to be, because that made you actually perfect in his eyes.

You liked hearing about the rowdy boys at his school and at tennis practice, and the stupid fights that would break out. Patrick would tell you about the famous tennis players his parents would get him to meet, some even practice with. How they'd comment on his serve, too, and when Patrick would imitate their voice and mannerisms, youd laugh till your stomach and cheeks hurt. Patrick decided then, at ten years old, to commit your laugh to memory. It was a sound as beautiful as your singing.

That became your routine at every dinner and every party your parents would take you to. You'd find solace and company with eachother, a rare, true friend in your world. You both never told your parents about the friendship because even then you knew they'd try and take advantage of it. Turn it into some political relationship, breed you two to marry or something for their benefits.

When Patrick's parents sent him off to the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy when you were twelve, you cried into your pillow for hours. You'd promised to write eachother, but there's only so much writing a twelve year old can do before they get distracted. Your meetings went from twice a month to once a year. The Zweig family Christmas party.

Just like when you were ten, the two of you would meet up by the crackling fireplace and swap stories, updating each other on your lives. You performed with a real live orchestra last week a version of Silent Night and your mother cried from the crowd. Patrick was sorry he couldn't be there but you handed him a CD with a recording of the night, knowing he'd want to see it, and he said it was the best Christmas gift he'd ever gotten. He hadn't even watched it yet, but he knew. The tennis racket once owned by Bjorn Borg was a pretty great gift too, though (he'd keep it hung on his dorm wall for his entire time at the academy, then later in a case in the trunk of his car to keep it safe).

He had met a kid named Art at the academy, and he talked about how they became fast friends. Best friends. You didn't really have much time for friends, too busy with school and all the extracurriculars your parents had signed you up for since birth. It was kind of like that for Patrick before he left, and you were happy he got the chance to meet someone at the academy. Art sounded great, and you wished you could meet him.

The next year you did it again, but at 15 Patrick got pneumonia on Christmas eve and couldn't come. You sat by the fireplace alone, picking lint off your sweater. Not much had changed apart from his absence. The older kids, now nearing college, were still thinking of ways to get alcohol. Some messed around with eachother in the various rooms of the house while the parents were off doing whatever parents did, not having much else to do. You stayed by yourself, watching the fire and praying to God that Patrick would be okay.

The year after, Patrick was back. He was older now, and so were you, of course. You were both 16 now, puberty catching up with the both of you in the year you hadn't seen each other.

Patrick had started properly shaving now, and when you first laid eyes on him, waiting for you by the fireplace, the slight shadow of hair on his chin and jaw was the first thing you noticed. Your eyes trailed up the stubble to his cheeks, which had lost the baby fat and now made the apples of his cheeks much more visible, especially as he smiled up at you. He called your name excitedly, standing up to meet you in a hug. You had hugged before, but he never wore cologne before. He had clearly gone through a growth spurt, too, and easily could rest his chin on your head. When you pulled back from the hug, you grabbed his shoulders and held him at arms length, just looking at him. He did the same for you, taking in the slight increase of height yourself, the more mature glow in your skin, and, since he was still only a teenage boy and still Patrick Zweig, your new boobs. His eyebrows raised, a slow and impressed whistle blew from his lips as he gave you alook. "You've grow." He smiled, and you swatted his arms while you blushed. "Look who's talking." You said, poking his biceps. Tennis academy did him good.

You had never thought about it before, but that one year apart and your reunion woke something in you up. Patrick Zweig was hot. You didn't know, but that same part of his own brain ignited. The whole night you two still talked as normal, still giggled over stories and swapped gifts. He got you a necklace made from your favorite metal, a tiny but intricate tennis racket charm hanging on the bottom. It was simple, but it was so precious.

"So I can be with you more than once a year." He explained, and you couldn't help yourself when you pulled him into the biggest hug you could manage. It was the most heartwarming gift you had ever gotten. And it made you laugh too, especially when you reached over to give him his gift.

When he opened it, his eyes widened and laughed, picking up the simple silver chain bracelet with a tiny charm of your initial on it. You were a little nervous to give it to him, worried it seemed too couple-y of a gift instead of something you'd give a friend, but now that anxiety had gone. He put it on immediately, and you were so grateful that he didn't think it was too girly or soft for him to wear. Patrick Zweig could be crude and perverted (something you realized when he let slip the way he looked at some girls back at the academy), but he wasn't insecure. Not in that way, at least.

You sat a little closer together that year, knees brushing as you caught up. Art was still his best friend and you two made plans for how you could meet. You were still singing, the Christmas time performance of yours now a yearly tradition. He was still never able to come, but he promised one day he would. The other kids were now too old to come to his house, off at college dorm parties, some even old enough to be already married and having Christmas parties of their own. The living room was much more quiet for the two of you but it's not like you ever noticed them much before. The one true new addition was the cigarette that now dangled from his lips. You had initally scolded him for the new habit but it didn't take long for it to be passed between the two of you as you spoke. You did your best to not think about how it had touched his lips and then would touch yours.

When graduation came around and it was finally time to go off to college yourself, your heart sank a little. College meant you two would be too busy with your own lives to come back, and your parents already weren't too committed to dragging you along with them to their events anymore. When you sat by the fireplace for that final year, you found you had less to talk about. Life felt pretty slow for you, especially with your lack of real friends. It was the same deal every year. School, choir, then independent vocal lessons, then horseback riding, then the youth advisory board, then tutoring. Your days were all a countdown to Christmas, the one day of the year you weren't some busy prodigal daughter with too many responsibilities on your shoulders, but Patrick Zweig's best friend. That was the only thing expected of you.

Maybe not in the way Art Donaldson was, but you were his best friend. He was the love of your life, you were sure of it.

He asked about your plans for school, and you said you'd probably go to Julliard if you got accepted. You were being humble, of course. You got your acceptance letter months ago. Patrick, not knowing that, assured you that you would. "They'd be stupid to not let you in." He smiled, cigarette balancing between his teeth and his bottom lip. You nudged your shoulder against his, thanking him for the vote of confidence. When it was your turn to ask him, he shrugged.

"Ah, I dunno." He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth, away from you. Patrick sat, thinking to himself for a moment before turning to face you. "I've been thinking about it, and... I don't think I'm gonna go." He shrugged again, and your eyebrows pulled back in surprise. "Do your parents know that?" You asked, knowing they'd never allow him. The Zweigs loved boasting about how Patrick was going to continue the family name. Tennis might be his gift, but they expected him to finally grow up and be an adult, not a tennis player.

He shook his head, turning back to the fire crackling before you. "Fuck them," he whispered with a smirk. "I'm gonna go pro. Play at challengers and shit until I rank for the bigger stuff. Play at Wimbledon or the Olympics or something. Don't wanna risk an injury at some school before I can even do anything real, you know?"

You nod your head, understanding. It made sense for him, you just were worried about how his parents would react.

"Art's gonna go to Stanford." He said, lips a little downturned at the mention. "He wants a safety net, I guess. I don't really know." He blows another puff of smoke, handing the cigarette over to you. Then he turns to you again, chuckling a little humorlessly. "Gas is gonna be a bitch, going from California to New York."

"What do you mean?"

"Going back and forth to see you and Art." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, shocked you even asked. "Guess I could fly," Patrick thought to himself, thinking over the logistics of it, then seemingly deciding it would work. "Worth it."

Your chest constricted a little at the thought of him going through all of that just to see you. You insisted that he didn't have to, that you'd gladly fly over to see him instead of the other way around, but he persisted. "You'll have school and friends and shit. I'll have plenty of time to come over. Plus, you know, phones exist." He teased.

Patrick was right. They did, of course. For some reason, though, you two never called. Never even thought about it. It was a little nonsensical and you laughed, and he joined. You promised that you'd start calling him, and he promised you the same thing.

When you hugged him before you had to leave, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Patrick."

He grinned, cheeks warming and turning pink. "I'm Jewish." He laughed, giving you a final hug. "Merry Christmas."

--(x)-- 2010 --(x)--

Graduation night at Alice Tully Hall was intense.

Four years had gone by in a flash and it was already the last week of May-- actually, it was already the end of graduation itself. Your cap was on your head and diploma in hand, the other one busy shaking the hands of the few late family and family friends that had come over to congratulate you. You were exhausted, both from the four years and from the night. All you wanted was to go to your apartment, flop onto your bed face first, and sleep the night away.

You had spent almost the entire celebration biting your nails and scanning the hall for the two pairs of eyes and smiles you wanted to see the most. When your name got called and you walked up on the stage, and your mother cried in the crowd like the night of your first concert, and your father gave you the same, unattached nod that was the closest he could get to saying he was proud of you. Patrick had told you he was gonna be late, just having finished a challenger in Philidelphia the same day. You just didn't think late meant missing the ceramony entirely.

Patrick was sitting in thick New York City traffic, banging his fist on his steering wheel, yelling at the car next to him. Art was in the passenger's seat, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You fucking moron! Dumb fucking cunt! You know how much this is gonna cost!?" Patrick yelled, pointing to the driver's door that now had a dent in it. The traffic was so heavy he couldn't move, and he didn't want to get out in case it budged. He knew he was late, and now some guy in a truck, in a fucking truck in New York City, had just bumped into the side of Patrick's car. The dent wasn't anything that would permanently damage the car, but it was pretty nasty. "Who taught your to drive?" He yelled, almost leaning fully out of the window now. Art reached over to pull at the back of his shirt, trying to get him back in. "Are you blind!? We're in the middle of traffic and you still managed to hit me?"

"Christ, Patrick, get back in the fucking car!"

Patrick swatted his hand away. "My best friend is graduating and now I gotta pick her up with this shit on my car. What's your insurance!? I'm gonna sue the shit out of you!"

Cars started beeping at him and the driver in the truck was yelling back just as colorfully. "That piece of dog shit almost looks better with it! You should be fucking thanking me, asshole. Maybe your insurance will give you a better car!"

"A better car!?" Patrick was red in the face. "Why don't you let me return the favor then!"

"Oh, shit." Art was scrambling over the center console to really pull him back, knowing it was seconds away from getting violent.

--(x)--

You were leaning against the front doors playing with the tennis racket necklace you had never taken off when you got a call from Art. You had gotten it from him the first time you met him freshman year, it being the one connection you had to each other for the whole school year. He had become a really close friend of yours, even through he grainy speakers of your phone. You picked it up eagerly, the first thing you could hear being angry beeping in the background and a voice that sounded like Patrick yelling.

"Art? Where are you guys? What's going on?"

"Oh my god," Art said your name, a little frantic. "Okay, so, uh, we're running late, I know-" there's some shuffling you can hear, and you cut in. "The ceremony is already over." You tell them, a little disappointed. Art frowns but his attention is pulled back to the situation at hand.

"Congrats on graduating! Um, anyways, I called cause Patrick's kinda losing his shit right now. Some guy hit his car--"

"Oh my god! Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. It's just a dent. But now the two are in the middle of the street and Patrick's getting his ass kicked." He sounds nervous, because of course he is. His best friend is catching fists to the face. "I tried to help..." Art continues, and his hand goes back up to touch the future black eye he's now sporting. "But, um, I just wanted to let you know that I don't think we'll make it over-"

In the background, Patrick interrupts, managing to gather the strength to push the giant man from on top of him. "Oh, we're making it!" He yells out loud enough that you can just hear it over the speaker, then throws another punch at the guy's jaw. Patrick's nose was bleeding and his eyebrow was cut, and the other guy wasn't looking all that great either. He spat at the guy, adding "You made me miss her graduation." with another punch.

The cars around them suddenly started move, and the two friends froze. Traffic was moving again. The guy got another good punch onto Patrick before he was able to scramble up and run back to his car, yelling at Art to start driving before the guy caught up.

They finally got to Lincoln Center looking like a pair of hot messes and you spent the weekend in your apartment with them sleeping over, caring for their cuts and bruises and catching up, smoking out your apartment window. It was the best weekend you'd had in years.

--(x)-- 2019 --(x)--

The crowd cheering was deafening, and the spotlight was blinding. Nonetheless, you took a bow, thanking the audience for the night. Your hand reached out to the orchestra and another round of applause boomed. Nobody could smile bigger than your were. No one could beat the butterflies in your stomach.

It was the week before Christmas, and just like you had since you were 12, you were performing a concert. This time however it wasn't on a small stage at a theater in your hometown, but at Alice Tully Hall in New York City, the same hall you had graduated in nine years ago.

The lights dimmed and that was your cue to leave, first excitingly hugging the musicians who played so beautifully that night. You thanked them all, wished them a happy holiday, and walked off stage. Waiting for you, as always, stood Patrick Zweig.

The years had done him well. Tennis kept him built like a marble statue, age refined his features, and his own laziness left the slightly auburn stubble on his cheeks to grow out. He was wearing the one tux he still owned, slightly tight around the arms and legs as he outgrew it.

Patrick had long cut contact with his parents, becoming financially independent (much to the dismay of his bank account), and no longer had to deal with the constant phone calls about how he was letting down the Zweig name with his tennis career. The days of them bragging about his talent were long gone, it was meant to be a hobby, not a career. Who was going to take over the Zweig family business now? He couldn't give less of a fuck. His designer wardrobe slowly sold off to pay for all the gas he consumed driving from matches to his best friends throughout the years, shedding his past with every article of clothing.

Patrick made sure to never repeat the same mistake as your graduation. At every event, he was there. Early, if possible. Never joining tournaments or challengers held on the same day as important events like tonight, not that there really were any on Christmas Eve. He made sure to make up for all the time you weren't together growing up.

Patrick held a bunch of roses in his hands for you as you approached, enveloping him in a hug. "Flowers are from the three of us." He spoke into your hair, referring to him, Art, and Art's wife Tashi. Free hand wrapping around your shoulder to squeeze you back with equal amounts of love. "Lily even made you a card. You were incredible, like always. Incredible."

You smiled up at him, kissing his cheek before hugging again. When you pull back, you look around him for the aforementioned Donaldsons. "They're waiting for Art to finish pissing. Whole night he kept complaining, drank too much water on the ride here but idiot didn't want to get up in the middle of your show and go." He chuckled, handing you the bouquet. You loop your arm into his, the feeling of him grounding you after the intense rush of adrenaline and emotions that came with performing to such a large audience or such a special night. Walking out into the main hall together, a couple people greet and shake your hand, some asking for pictures. A person even recognized Patrick, which was quite uncommon with his career now dwindling down an unfortunate and unsuccessful path (You were sure any day now he was gonna pick back up and climb the ranking again. You made sure to tell him after every match).

The two of you leaned against a wall as the attention died down and people began going home. In your heels, you were tall enough to rest your head comfortable on Patrick's shoulder. He smiled at the gesture, leaning his head on yours. Closing your eyes, you took in the whole night. The fading adrenaline, the sweat that gathered on your forehead drying, the sound of the crowd getting quieter by the second. The material of Patrick's tux on your cheek and ear, his steady and relaxed breathing, the warmth of his embrace, the musky cologne he had been using since he was a teenager.

Patrick enjoyed the moments alone he had with you. He wasn't Patrick Zweig the failed heir to the Zweig throne just like how he was a failed tennis player. He was Patrick Zweig, your best friend. That was the only thing expected of him.

Longer than Art Donaldson ever was. You were the love of his life, he was sure of it.

He inhaled the scent of your hair and your perfume, arm wrapped around your shoulder as his thumb rubbed comforting circles on it. When he closed his eyes, he replayed how you looked on the stage while you sang. You were as beautiful as your voice. Always had been, always will be. Every performance of yours took him back to when things were much simpler, when he'd watch you by their otherwise untouched piano at formal dinners and you'd sing a Sinatra song for the parents. He could almost taste the roasted chicken, almost feel the silverware in his hands.

Your hand reached up to your chest and your fingers played with the little tennis racket charm, a habit you'd had for years. Patrick loved knowing you kept the necklace on after all this time, even on nights like this where you could've replaced it with something much more grand and expensive.

He had never taken his bracelet off. Even in the brief relationships or hookups he'd have and partners would question what the initial stood for. He'd never answer, just tell them it was important to him.

You opened your eyes again when the sound of little feet in little shoes click-clacked on the tile floor towards you, your name exclaimed from eager lips. Lily bounded up to you, her honerary aunt, and wrapped her arms around your waist. Art and Tashi followed behind her.

Lily pulled back from the hug, looking up at you. "You were like a superstar!" She beamed, one of her front teeth missing. You hug Art and Tashi who compliment your dress and your performance before leaving with them to the dinner reservation you all had, Patrick's arm still around your shoulder as you walked.

At dinner, through mouthfulls of spaghetti, Lily asked you constant questions about what it's like to sing and be on stage. You answered every single one, and at the end of her little interview she made an announcement. "When I grow up I wanna be a tennis player like mommy and daddy," she started, Tashi scolding her to stop talking while she's eating as she wiped with a napkin at the corners of her daughter's mouth. Art's bottom lip jutted out in a little pout, melting in the hands of his daughter. "But, I wanna be a singer-tennis player. So I can wear pretty dresses like you."

You laugh, coming to Tashi's defense. "Your mom wears gorgeous dresses, Lily."

"Yeah, but she doesn't wear them on a stage. I wanna do that."

Point proved, you shrug. Patrick turns to look at you as he's sitting directly beside you. He doesn't say anything, just admires you under the dim and moody lighting of the resteraunt as you talk with Lily, resting his chin in his hand and smiling into his palm. Art and Tashi share a knowing look.

The night decidingly comes to an end when the couple announces they need to put Lily to bed.

"I'm not twenty anymore," Tashi says, handing the bill to the waiting server. "I knock out at ten P.M."

Patrick drove you home like you agreed, and it was assumed he'd stay the night like he often did on your couch. As you changed into more comfortable clothes in your room, he grabbed his own clothes from the trunk of his car and changed in your bathroom. Afterward, he silently observed as you washed off your makeup and took down your hair from its simple updo. It felt domestic. It felt like something a boyfriend does with his girlfriend after a long day. Patrick let himself pretend for a moment that that's exactly what was happening.

When you were done the two of you sat on the couch and cuddled, debating on what movie to wind down to as you settled into his arms as he laid his head against the arm rest.

"Home Alone?" You ask, grabbing the remote and flicking through the options. He shook his head.

"Watched that with Art and Lily just last week. What about Elf?"

You agree, and the movie begins to play. The volume's low and you spend more time talking to each other than actually watching, one of your hands on the arm wrapped around your chest scratching up and down and the other resting on your stomach. Patrick's hand on your chest toyed with your necklace while the other arm rested on your head, lazily scratching as you watched and talked. Neither of you realized when you both fell asleep there.

The sun rising through your window wakes you up, the light bright against your eyelids. You shifted a little, lifting your head but keeping your eyes closed. The first thing your senses picked up on was the warm body of Patrick underneath you, steady rising and falling breaths and the lignering scent of the cologne he applied yesterday still faintly on his skin. His hands were still on your chest and head when you woke up, sliding off when you moved to look at him.

The stresses of adulthood were almost undetectable on his face. Patrick had the same freckles littering his skin that he had as a kid, and you used to tell him that in a crowd of identical people you'd be able to pick him out just by the freckles on his waterline. Did that make sense? Probably not, but it did when you were fourteen. You didn't really care, to be honest, just wanting him to open his eyes so you could see the freckles there again.

As if he could hear your thoughts, his eyelashed fluttered before opening. The first thing he saw was you.

Like an angel. His tired brain though for a moment he died and went to heaven.

"Goodmorning." He rasped, morning voice deep and scratchy. You smiled, looking out the window at the falling snow. "Merry Christmas." You say instead. "I'm Jewish," He chuckled, a hand raising to brush a strand of hair from your face before whispering "Merry Christmas" back. He said the same thing every year.

You stayed silent like that, laying on his chest and just staring at him as he played with your hair. There was some sort of unsaid agreement between the two of you, something your souls communicated with each other without your knowlage as you slept. Patrick felt like his heart could stop at any moment with how etheral you felt.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asked, breaking the quiet in the room and whispering it like a secret.

Your eyes moved from his to his lips, and at the action his tongue darted out to lick them. It felt like the 21 years you had been best friends slipped away from your fingers and had gone. Time was gone. Reason was gone. The only thing left in the entire world was you, him, and the couch. You knew what you wanted. You had wanted it since you were sixteen. He's sure he's wanted it since the creation of his soul.

His hand moved from your hair to your jaw, both of you slightly breathless, eyes on the other's lips. His calloused hands told you, you weren't dreaming despire how hazy reality felt. His breath on your lips told you, you were still alive despite how heaven-like reality felt.

Patrick leaned in, his nose rubbing on yours and your foreheads touching, lips mere centimeters apart, eyes barely open. His best friend. His soulmate. He was never whole when he wasn't around you.

He kissed you on Christmas morning, the charm of your inital on his bracelet tickling your shoulder, the tennis racket on your necklace resting on his chest.

[youremyheaven]

Outcaste Nakshatras: The Outsiders (part 3)

Here's part 1 and part 2

The more I study Mleccha nakshatra natives and the art they make, the more I understand how deeply lonely it is to have a Mleccha nak (Bharani, Ashlesha, Vishaka, Shravana) and I really feel for them. To live your whole life feeling misunderstood and othered is so difficult.

The movie Edward Scissorhands is a really good example of the "outcast" trope. The titular character is played by Johnny Depp who has Ashlesha Rising and his love interest is played by Winona Ryder who has Mercury (amatyakaraka) & Venus (atmakaraka) in Vishaka

I find Outcaste nak pairing very interesting because obviously you only feel like you belong/truly feel accepted in the presence of another Outcast.

Sidharth Malhotra, Vishaka Moon is married to Kiara Advani, who has Mercury & Venus (atmakaraka) in Ashlesha (if you have 2 or more planets in the same nak that energy is very concentrated even if its not your big 3)

they're both known for being pretty low-key people which is unusual in Bollywood lmao

Sid is an "outsider" which is what we call non-nepo actors in India. imagine the extent of nepotism in cinema in India that its the exception to be an "outsider"lmao. anyway Sid is pretty reserved and introverted and is known for not fitting in with the Bollywood crowd. Kiara is also kinda like that I guess but idk too much about her personality. They both seem happy together tho

Kareena Kapoor, Shravana Moon is married to Saif Ali Khan, Ashlesha Sun & Shravana Moon

Kareena's parents are famous actors who are separated (her dad was misogynistic and abusive and didn't want women to act) and even tho she's a nepo baby she didn't grow up with the same privileges as others in her famous family. Her elder sister had to drop out of school to support the family by acting as they were raised by a single mom and had fallen on bad times. You can see how the "outcast" themes were present in Kareena's life even though she's a very privileged nepo baby

Saif is also a nepo baby (welcome to bollywood lol) but he married a much older actress when he was 21 and had two kids. they later got divorced and Saif received a ton of bad press for alleged adultery, not getting custody or visitation rights of the kids, not paying child support (the amount was absurdly high tbh) etc he didn't fit in with the other actors of his generation. The media & public went crazy when news of Saif & Kareena getting married came out bc Saif is a divorcee with 2 kids (this stuff is still taboo in India unfortunately) and Kareena is one of the most successful stars of her generation. But they've been married for 10+ yrs and have 2 kids and are as happy as ever.

Even Kareena's longterm ex-boyfriend, Shahid Kapoor was a Mleccha caste nak guy (he has Vishaka Moon)

Expanding on the outcast tropes, Shahid's parents separated when he was young and he saw little of his biological father. He had to work very hard for very long to break into the industry and even now, he's not really given his due as an actor.

Alia Bhatt, Shravana Rising is married to Ranbir Kapoor, Shravana Moon

their marriage seems hella toxic to me ngl BUT they've both had similar childhoods.

Alia & Ranbir are both nepo babies (welcome to bollywood), Alia is like a tier 3 nepo (her father is a notoriously controversial filmmaker) whilst Ranbir is like a tier 1 nepo (he is a 4th generation actor from the biggest film family in India) however both their parents had unhappy marriages, and both of them had abusive fathers. trauma bonding, mayhaps? they're both also extremely close to their mothers as well (Moon dominant people often tend to be)

Its another example of Outcaste naks bonding over their shared experiences/feelings of being the outcast.

all members of Blackpink have an Outcaste nakshatra in their chart that is prominent in some way.

Jisoo- Shravana Moon, Venus in Vishaka (darakaraka), Ketu in Bharani

Rose- Venus conjunct Jupiter (debilitated) in Shravana

Jennie- Vishaka Moon, Mars in Shravana

Lisa- Jupiter in Shravana (debilitated), Swati Moon (Swati is a Shudra nak, which is the lowest caste so the themes are similar to that of outcaste naks)

This is interesting to me because BP is the biggest girl group of all time yet they are also probably disproportionately hated for things they cant even control. they were mismanaged by a shitty ass company with very few comebacks and barely got to display their true calibre as artists and their media interactions, promos, other activities etc were severely controlled and restricted. all of this is to say that despite being the most successful group their actual experiences are far from sunshine and roses. they were treated like outcasts by their company and the industry and fans. they trained for 4-6 years, enduring a brutal and toxic system, worked very hard with what they were given, with 0 creative liberty to come this far im glad theyre pursuing solo careers now and hope to see them thrive<333

the movie Lost in Translation is a good example of two outcasts/lonely people who find comfort in each other

Bill Murray is Shravana Moon and Scarlett Johansson is Vishaka Moon

Sridevi, Ashlesha Sun & Rising and Boney Kapoor, Vishaka Sun & Mercury

So they had a really fcked up marriage that I won't get into but they were both people who felt like outcasts in their lives. Sridevi grew up with a stepfather and was pushed into acting by her mother when she was 3-4 years old (she's like an Indian Judy Garland tbh) who deprived her of formal education and a normal life so that she'd be the family cash cow. Being South Indian, she also found it hard to fit in among Bollywood folks as she initially spoke neither Hindi nor English. Boney's the ugly duckling of his family and his younger brother is one of the most famous/iconic actors ever, he had to become a movie producer since his brothers became actors and his father (who was a movie producer) thought it would be better if he stayed behind the scenes. themes of exclusion and outcast-ness crop up in their lives and in the lives of all the people I mention here.

Lady Bird is a good example of a movie about a female teenage outcast. The titular character is played by Saoirse Ronan, who has Bharani Moon

Recently I came across the content creator, Alana Lintao who often makes shorts about social behaviour. This one in particular stood out to me because its literally about one person being excluded by a group of friends or being treated like "the other".

Alana plays the excluded friend in this short as well. She has Bharani Sun, Swati Moon and Mercury in Revati amatyakaraka (Swati & Revati are both Shudra naks)

Outcaste naks are vilified and crucified for mistakes others get away with.

Janet Jackson, Vishaka Rising & Ketu

Janet's career took a hit and her life took a tumultuous turn after the Superbowl incident. She did not deserve all the vitriol she received then especially considering how so many others get away with wayyy worse

Jennie, Vishaka Moon gets hated on for absolutely nothing

Lana Del Rey, Ashlesha Moon, Vishaka Rising (&stellium)

Lana does say dumb things from time to time but she gets soooo much unnecessary hate

I have noticed how Outcaste nakshatras often tend to have really difficult childhood experiences

Jeanette McCurdy- Ardra sun, Bharani Moon & Pushya Rising

Jeanette opens up about her abusive mother and terrible childhood in her memoir. I mention her other placements as well because I've noticed that both Ardra & Pushya natives also experience abuse in their early lives

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon

she has endured so much abuse from so many people including her family. i wish her peace.

Wheein, Vishaka Moon grew up with a single mother and later after she made her debut her estranged father tried to borrow money from people under her name?? there was a minor scandal about it many years ago. She also grew up quite lower middle class if not poor.

David Bowie, Shravana Rising

Bowie once said, "“It wasn’t a particularly happy childhood, my parents were cold emotionally. There weren’t many hugs. I always craved affection because of that.”

Cole & Dylan Sprouse, Ashlesha Sun

Speaking on the Call Her Daddy podcast, he explained that their mother's issues with mental health and addiction contributed to her being "financially the most irresponsible woman ever." He said that when their dad was given forced custody when the boys were 10, their mom had already spent everything they'd earned from their early acting jobs. Though their dad wanted them to be "normal kids," he ultimately decided that the boys' acting careers were a financial necessity.

Ariel Winter, Shravana Sun

Ariel Winter has spoken out about how acting wasn't her choice, but it was her mother's. Ariel shared that her mother, Crystal Workman, had dreams of being an actor herself. Ariel said that with Crystal as her stage mom, she dealt with a lot of abuse and exploitation.

Once Ariel's acting career began, she said her mom put her on a strict diet and neglected her education. Her mother also had her dress in outfits that sexualized her. Ariel claimed her mom put her in “the smallest miniskirts, sailor suits, low-cut things, the shortest dresses you’ve ever seen. People thought I was 24 when I was 12. If there was going to be a nude scene when I was that age, my mother would have a thousand percent said yes.”

Now Bollywood is an industry run by film dynasties, its very rare for someone from the outside to break in and make it big. Being an "Outsider" is very difficult, people bully you, try to sabotage your career, try to isolate you etc etc, needless to say its not for the faint of heart. So lets take a look at some of the most successful "Outsiders" in Bollywood who made it big without any family in the business

ofc we have to start with the most successful outsider of all time, Shahrukh Khan, Shravana Moon

he truly came from nothing (father died when he was a teenager, mother died before he made his debut, has a sister with special needs who he has taken care of his entire life) and became the biggest star in the world.

Akshay Kumar, Vishaka Moon, he was a martial artist, chef, waiter and worked numerous odd jobs before he started modelling in his late 20s and later started acting and today he has a net worth of $340 million

Anushka Sharma, Bharani Sun

her life is truly a case of being lucky af, she was a model and by the age of 19-20 she was cast in a film opposite Shahrukh Khan aka the biggest actor in the country produced by YRF, one of the biggest film production companies in India. its truly a fairy tale because neither can Anushka act nor is she gifted in any other way (bad dancer, heck she was even an awful model) but she's incredibly successful in every way and is now married to the (former) Captain of the Indian cricket team

Deepika Padukone, Shravana Rising

she is from a privileged background (her dad's a renowned badminton player) but she worked very very hard to get where she is today and has had more career longevity than just about any other actress.

Bipasha Basu & John Abraham, Bharani Moon

they were both a hot couple who were really popular in the 2000s

there are many other successful Outsiders but they don't have outcaste naks lol, these are the only ones i can think of rn :/

i hope this post was informative<33

[tending-the-hearth]

my personal favorite parts of "transformers one"

warning for MAJOR spoilers below!!! a theater near me was doing an early access screening, the movie is officially coming out september 20 in the us!

first off getting the obvious out of the way with Megatron and Optimus' friendship, obviously we know what happens but when a movie with a clear eventual villain that's been iconic for years makes me hope it retcons everything that has ever happened so two characters can remain friends???? their friendship was EVERYTHING to me

also very happy to see that Optimus is still such a nerd i love him

i did love the little subtle hints with Optimus and Megatron's differences from the start

Elita and Optimus' moments together were my FAVORITES

JAZZ!!!!! BELOVED BELOVED DARLING!!!!!! LOML!!!!!

AND RATCHET MENTION!!!!!!! DR. HATCHET MY BELOVED

I like that they didn't try to hide the fact that Sentinel was not a good guy. Like he was just so skeevy from the start, but they built it up in a way that still felt intense when his betrayal was revealed

Bee <3 he's so silly <3 favorite guy <3

Also the AA-Tron joke was 100% a reference to the A-A-Ron skit which had me cackling

The immediately big brother-little brother connection between Optimus and Bee?????? cries

ughhhhhh Megatron's shift from wanting to help Cybertron with Optimus to just wanting revenge

and Megatron's view being "one person controls everyone" and Optimus' being "all are one" IT'S SO GOOD

AND THE OPTIC COLOR SHIFT!!!!! OPTIMUS' ALWAYS BEING BLUE BUT MEGATRON'S STARTING AS YELLOW THEN SHIFTING TO ORANGE AFTER FIGHTING STARSCREAM THEN TURNING COMPLETELY RED WHEN HE LETS OPTIMUS GO I'M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Bee's excitement about the knife hands and Optimus being excited for him!!! They are siblings!!!

also a crime that i haven't mentioned Bee saying "Badassatron" multiple times every time it happened i just lost it

but also love love love transformers and their "someone will die" trope i was expecting the Optimus death 100% but it still was SO good

I also loved how Optimus' voice became more and more sterotypically "Optimus" as he went through his journey, like he started off very goofy and silly, then after getting his cog from Alpha Trion we start to hear more of how we're used to hearing Optimus, then after he's brought back by the Primes it's pretty much a very strong younger version of Peter Cullen's Optimus

the VAs were actually really impressive for the most part. I thought Chris Hemsworth did a fantastic job as Optimus, putting in just enough of a similar inflection as Peter Cullen's voice that it still felt like Optimus, just younger

Brian Tyree Henry DESTROYED me as Megatron, his vocal change through the movie???? emotionally devestating

Keegan Michael Key is one of my favorite Bumblebee voices tbh <3 especially considering we've only gotten a few iterations where Bee actually talks, so it worked for him since he could make it his own

absolutely 10/10 movie, i will be going back to see it next weekend when it's officially out because i'm obsessed

[sir-fenris]

What are your favorite enemy turned caretaker tropes? Does it go with whumper turned caretaker for you, or do you have something different in mind?

Hey! Thank you for the ask :D

I don't really have one favorite, because I like that dynamic in general tbh, as long as it's well-written (so it doesn't look like a sudden change of heart dynamic, yk?).

But I can definitely give you some tropes I most enjoy inside Enemy to Caretaker. Most dynamics I think of are in war settings, lab settings or settings that the dynamic really is enemies, not only whumpee&whumper.

-

➛ Enemy-to-Caretaker

No content warnings for this one, there's nothing explicit here, just general whump ;)

◆ Reluctant Whumper turned Caretaker ->

A Whumper that has to hurt/incarcerate/whump the Whumpee, it's not personal.

Perhaps they feel bad about it, perhaps not, but once the reason why they hurt Whumpee is gone, they care for Whumpee.

Is it out of a sense of obligation? Is it because there's no one else to do it? Is it just because it won't take much energy to do it, so why not? Is the reason for the whump the same for the caretaking somehow?

So many different routes to go with this one.

◆ Multiple Whumpers setting ->

A bunch of whumpers to one, or more, whumpees. But one of them thinks the others are going too far, because they hurt whumpee for no reason, hurt them way more than necessary, hurt them in ways this Whumper doesn't agree with.

So, Enemy-to-Caretaker ends up being the one patching Whumpee up, and giving them an extra portion of meal, or a break. Maybe Enemy tells the other to back off a bit, tries to forbid them from going too far.

Or maybe they know their teammates won't listen, and that this is going way too far. So they take Whumpee away and hides them. They still think Whumpee needs to be hurt or contained for some reason, but know they are the only one in charge of it. How does caretaking go, now that the other whumpers aren't there to take it too far again?

◆ Regretful Whumper turned Caretaker ->

And if Whumper is the one that went too far? Hurting Whumpee too much during a fit of rage, perhaps. Or got blinded by the adrenaline of war/chase/overrun. Maybe doing something while blinded by the notion that Whumpee is the enemy.

Maybe the whump happened at a distance (like city bombing, or a big operation in which Whumper wasn't on the front line, or something like that), and Whumper just realizes it was too far when they see Whumpee. Driven by guilt, they try to fix what they have broken.

◆ Whumper turned Reluctant Caretaker ->

On the opposite side, what about a Whumper being forced to care for whumpee? Whumper hates Whumpee, they are enemies, but caretaking makes itself an obligation.

Maybe they need Whumpee alive for some reason, something only Whumpee knows, can do or can be traded for. Maybe it's orders coming from Whumper's superiors. Maybe one of Whumper's friends like Whumpee, and Whumper wants to keep their friends happy.

How much care are they forced to extend? Do they make caretaking painful? Do they have to be gentle and careful? Do they do the bare minimum? Or do they go out of their way to ensure Whumpee's safety and well-being, for any reason?

What an interesting dynamic it makes, someone who hates you, who wants to hurt you, being forced to keep you safe and unharmed.

-

In these examples, it's all Enemy-Whumper to Caretaker, but there are other dynamics I've considered that aren't necessarily a Whumper-Enemy, but a Whumpee-Enemy turned Caretaker.

-

Here is the part 2

-

[seltelm]

Wind breaker S2 rant because fuck I'm tired of ppl sometimes

Contains spoilers for the Manga, I try to keep it vague

Can we just talk about how stupid the arguments about Tsubaki are? Like jeez, if a guy likes feminine stuff then a guy likes feminine stuff, there's no big deal with it especially in this century or fuck, even in Japan! Like it's pretty normalized there to cross dress:/

And what if he likes Umemiya? Who gives a shit? Forced gayness in Anime? Dude, Anime's been queer for forever. Sailor Moon for example has been around since the 90s

And on the cross dressing note, that's a common trope in Anime and literally ouran high school host club which was released in 2006 (manga 2003) has a cross dresser in it. There's probably other examples too from older Anime, but I'm just naming more mainstream stuff. Also, in Naruto, Naruto literally has a jutsu to turn into a girl, like, cross dressing but on a whole other level.

Also I saw someone comment once on another platform about how Tsubaki "clearly made Sakura uncomfortable for"... idfk pushing his sexuality on him?? He literally just asked if he wanted to go on a date? And like... I... I'm so baffled because they just don't understand Sakura's character at all. He wasn't blushing because he was comfortable, he blushed because he's sensitive to affection, like literal moments prior he was blushing over Tsubaki affection for Umemiya.

And okay, I can't blame them for ignorance since episode 6 isn't out yet, but we literally find out that Sakura, first off agreed and second off was a little disappointed even that it wasn't just the two of them:_: this doesn't mean that I think Sakura's gay. Doesn't mean I think he's straight either. I just don't wanna speculate on it since, and I'll say it louder for the people in the back, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. And people will do what they please with its characters. And you can't stop it. That's that.

Btw, I had to take a double take when I saw a person with a sailor moon pfp talk about how anime, in this case Wind breaker, has forced queernes... Like... What?? Also, it's not forced if the author literary puts it in... It's the author's choice, hence, they decided to add it, because it's their story... It's only forced if it's put in by someone other than the author themself, because, again, it's THEIR story. No, fan content and head canons don't count because ultimately they don't affect the canon story

Anyways. Also the 'fans' of the show that hate on Sakura for being emotionally weak baffle me. Like, can't they understand that he's a kid. Like 16. (his age confuses me sometimes tbh, but I'm guessing he's actually 16 since his b-day is on April first around when school usually starts in Japan[source shitty google search, don't quote me] and he was 15 when he came to the town a day or two before school started).

And he's been abused his entire life! Neglected, shunned, hated for everything he can't control! He doesn't trust people but he wants to. His character is so well written that it hurts to see people disregard it.

And like, what's so fun about a story without debth? Okay fine. I won't lie, mindless action can be a great way to unwind. But that's not what Wind breaker is about. Sure, there's a lot of action and I personally love that part of the story! But at its core, it's a story about finding a community and accepting yourself and healing and ahhh so much more than just the action. That's what made me so obsessed with the series. Not the action that I'd probably forget about in a few weeks, but the story, the characters, the world. How deep and real they feel. And yes, sometimes the story is a little unrealistic, like with how Keisei is run by a whole bunch of like 18 year olds, but the rest of the well thought out story makes up for it.

Anyways.

So, yeah. It's funny to see people crash out at Tsubaki. It just proves to me that they can't handle the zest fest named Yamato Endo and his other half of the wonderful toxic yaoi cake of Chika Takiishi✌️ seriously, Endo, you're so zesty for Takiishi all the time for a playboy who, mind you, pulls girls🤨

Much love to the real fans of the show🫶 I hope I wasn't too harsh with my rant too lol

[dozzerxb]

im just ranting about the fandoms take on detey and how it has gotten to a point where its kind of sexist, so ignore this if u want (not hating on the ship, I love those two like I love my own mother)

I've seen that most of the new fandom has taken some stereotypical roles when shipping dogman and petey, making dogman this supper athletic, big and protective guy who is also freaky for some reason, and petey is a small petite man who is also very feminine and a malewife. tbh at first I didn't have an issue, but after some time I realized they're mostly reducing the characters to just that, forgetting their personalities on the comics AND movie

like yes, the movie makes dogman and petey look different from their original media which is the comics, making dogman look more freaky and petey more sassy, but the fact that the fandom is forgetting that they're both super smart and have their own issues going on makes me sad tbh

I know this kind of things will always be part of a fandom, but I just wish it wasn't so misogynistic sometimes. why does the skinny guy always have to be feminine guy? why can't dogman wear dresses and cute pink stuff? why the slightly bigger guy always have to be masculine and huge and not smart? isnt that dogman's whole thing? being super smart and having knight's body as a plus, making him the best cop? why does petey get reduced to be a sexy malewife? isn't he an inventor who likes to build robots for fun with his son? not that he can't be that way, but I find it kind of weird that it always has to be like that. plus the nsfw content is not making them any favors

it's like people refuse it to do it or SEE IT any other way. I understand headcanons, I believe petey is kind of feminine myself, but take it to the extreme where petey is nothing more than just an accessory to dogman instead of the genius he is? it's weird for me, sorry. and yes I've seen people portray him like that sadly

I'd like to see more media where petey is taken as the amazing inventor he is, where dogman also wears dresses and it's not bothered by being seen like that, where they both act like grown ups with a son instead of sex machines, where petey is taken seriously and not as a joke, where dogman is smart as he is in the movie and books and not some stupid guy without a clue of anything, where petey doesn't have to get PREGNANT all the time and he can just be himself (seriously, they have a clone machine after all. why does petey always have to be the one getting pregnant????), where dogman is not portrayed as a cheater because people like that for some reason, and if the fandom really likes that trope, then make petey a cheater too! equality is key!

maybe I'm looking too much into it, but it's kind of like the fandom is trying to make dogman into a manly man and make petey into a feminine woman in a SUPER misogynistic way, with the excuse that they're just gay so it's okay. gay people are more than just that, they're more than super feminine guys and clueless bears, it's basically an spectrum and taking those two as the only way a gay person can be portrayed it's awfully hurtful, because you're just making them that, a stereotype. it's the discussion of "who is the man in the relationship" all over again. there doesn't need to be a man! or maybe there can be two men who work equally!

maybe I'm just overreacting, maybe I'm just too asexual or maybe I'm just too woke, who knows, but I just needed to get this off my chest

if you read this far, thank you! I'd like to hear other opinions too so, maybe leave yours under this! I'll be glad to read it :)

[transformersconfessions]

I actually don't think the babyfication/infantilisation of B-127 in transformers ONE should be such a big deal as some ppl make it out to be.

Do I think Bee is CANONICALLY a lil kid in TfOne? Absolutely not- I TBH subscribe to the idea he may most likely be the oldest of the group, he is just overly chatty and socially awkward due to being isolated for so long. I also don't think any of the others ever treat him as a child or as if he was younger, he is part of the group in a very homogenous/equal way.

Having said this, lil Bee is a ridiculously popular trope. He is small, he is yellow, he is round shaped, he is less somber- and ppl like that, and like to have fun with him being younger or the baby of the group or establish a parent-child relationship with Optimus/Orion. And I think that's more than fine! It's a cute concept, adorable even, I understand why ppl love it and why they wish to apply it to continuities regardless of canon. I tbh don't think it does any harm, in having him being a "child of divorce" with Opmeg or to even have him see Oplita as parental figures. This is fiction, and this is ppl having fun with fiction BCS it makes them happy or brings them comfort or just think is cute.

As long as they don't claim that any of this is canon and is the only "right way" to see him (which I have personally never seen, although this is ofc a biased opinion not enough of a large sample), then let ppl make their AUs or What if or Headcanons.

I also don't get the whole "this enforces the infantilisation of autistic/ADHD ppl" ?¿ I may be ignorant regarding this but just how would that even happen?¿ I never in my life looked at someone short and chatty and socially awkward and been like "oh that's definitely a child and should be treated as such"?¿ As someone on the spectrum myself and who has many friends/acquittance both with either or none, I have never seen this issue, nor the correlation of "you like Bee being the baby of the group hence you infantile or endorse the infantilisation of autism/ADHD"

Maybe I would see it more if we were talking about human characters played by real actors- but here we are talking about giant animated alien robots who have most likely concepts of age/development/social constructs totally different from our own especially considering how long they live- but maybe I am missing some important bit here, always open to be educated on the topic.

Am I saying you have no right to be annoyed by it? ABSOLUTELY NOT- your feelings are valid, but also, make callout posts of how "that's a grown man" feels a bit too much. If you want more canon accurate B-127 I think you should pick up a pen and do it yourself! Create fanarts of it, create fanfics, write analysis, list your head canons! And I am sure more ppl will look at this version and grow fond of it and start producing content themselves! Everyone has their right to have fun, no need to complain or criticise them for it :)

You like lil baby Bee and his father-son relationship with Orion? Go for it! You want to explore Bee as a grown mech who is on equal friends plate? Be my guest!

If you don't like something, either just scroll or block them, and if you want to change how things are, then start creating the corner of the internet you want to live in yourself! After all, all these fanarts/fanfics are works of PASSION given FOR FREE- I don't think you have a right to bash or complain about this nor can you force artists to produce what you want the way you want- but you can always become the artist that produces that yourself!

.

[elendsessor]

ngl i think its so important how the metaphor cast feels like a found family both in comparison to atlus’s/studio zero’s backlog and the general jrpg landscape

repeat after me: metaphor is not a megami tensei game.

this being said, there was definitely some influence because of the devs working on it, though this is due to the gaming landscape. save for indie titles, you’d be hard pressed to find a studio, especially one owned by a big company, to even be given the chance to make a new ip. atlus in particular has a history of financial flops, which is actually why the sega merger is so important. without sega, no matter how successful persona got, they would have died out in the 2000s/early 2010s. this is also why they lean on persona a lot more. of course, persona isn’t the only influence behind metaphor despite the big names having worked on modernsona, as some of its dna draws from traditional fantasy rpg tropes and digital devil saga. however, this has influenced how the game was approached on several levels, as diverting too much could have caused the game to flop. metaphor hinged most of its success based on studio recognition and marketing, and considering how persona is atlus’s cash cow, it needed to take every advantage it could get.

metaphor can definitively be best described as experiencing some first game syndrome pains + development hell complications, but in general, its plot and especially character dynamic writing seems to have been an exercise for the studio they couldn’t get while sticking to persona. no matter how you feel about the series, there’s no denying that, particularly with p3 onwards, it became a very mainstream-influenced anime rpg, filled with tropes and fanservice galore. only issue is how this alienates potential players. everything wrong with persona’s team writing is one reflected throughout the genre because it was made to fit that genre.

the anime rpg market is over saturated, the fandom reputation didn’t help, and to be honest, like many jrpgs in general, the party relationship falls into the trap of having minimal group chemistry outside of a shared goal, leaving them to not truly feel like a collective group of friends once the big bad goes down, especially if there’s a punching bag. as such, there seems to be plenty of reevaluation of how topics and characters are handled in order to attract a new player base turned off from the genre.

and that’s probably why i love the approach to metaphor’s main cast the most. while all end up having a shared goal aka we need to kill that fucking twink, they’re really initially brought together because they’re societal outcasts one way or another, then grow to like each other overtime due to exposure breaking down several barriers.

the biggest example for me is how heismay begins to shut down his perception of paripus after the eht ria arc, as its the first time he hears about what was actually going on the day his son was killed—there was an uprising from a tribe often forced into slavery and becoming lab rats, and unfortunately, an innocent bystander got caught up in it.

his relationship with basilio is really interesting in that regard tbh. there’s a growing respect once he and fidelio decide to help them out in defending other innocent kids caught up in a mess, and i think seeing him lose a loved one really put into perspective paripus aren’t inherently violent. sure, the magnus brothers were on louis’s side because at least fidelio believed might makes right, but having the courage to not abandon morals just to people please? takes a lot of guts.

that’s really where that respect starts to be gained even if it isn’t obvious. by the time the final day rolls around and they help hold the line? heismay actually being nice to basilio and even saving his life feels earned.

junah’s also really important. while initially from a shitty place and not holding sanctist beliefs or at least the extreme parts of it, given how she gets taken into a powerful family, finds success really easily despite her tribe, plus a lot of special treatment from every major group really gives her that unintentional superiority complex. she only goes along with will because they’re both from the resistance, initially treats him like an assistant, and one of the first things she says on the runner is denouncing how it isn’t up to her standards.

it’s another quiet background development in that it’s subtle, but she does end up challenging her worldview upon meeting eupha. being raised in an entirely different culture only to start seeing parallels in terms of faith being warped, causing unnecessary loss of life? that’s why she came to the conclusion she wants to help. this isn’t mentioning the follower ranks, furthering that understanding of how not everyone gets the same treatment as her because of things out of their control.

also noticed how everyone loses someone close and how at least one team member fills that same gap. extra bonus points for gallica because what’s this? a navi character that isn’t beating up on a single character and even then comes from a place of caring, praising those when they deserve it and showing worry when things don’t go as planned?

not a lot of games have this close knit relationship gained, usually only sticking to a couple characters liking one another and everyone liking the protagonist. it’s refreshing. the writing team deserves so many kudos for it it’s insane.

[koiifiishy]

im not tagging this, he can just be for you my beloved moots & followers LOL,,,🥹💦

isaac being thrust into the dol setting WOULD be possible i think, and wouldn't be too much of a deviation from his previous lore. this is the only finished art of him i have atm btw! threw together a little fun page with it :> some thoughts below:

firstly, the accent would make him stand out. he's american and sounds like it. its a bit harder to pin down where he's from in the us tho, since he refrains from using too much regional dialect. (i vc him sounding like mr nightmind nick nocturne hehe :3c)

a freelance journalist, he'd be interested in the sordid rumors circulating about doltown. being as the pc is a very active person, i think he'd probably run into them a few times and eventually put together that they're on the up & up and proposition them to give him insider info about whatever fucked up shit they find out along their various jobs — by that time of this meeting, he'd be in the know about the pc's money situation & make sure to pay them for their info.

if the player takes his deal, the pc could then either give him actual info or fake info: he will figure out youre lying - at least when it comes to most things! he doesn't wholly believe in the supernatural, so if you were truthful about like, the IW or something, he'd go along with it and pay you but he doesn't believe you. outlandish claims will net you less pay too..!

he doesn't start off as a LI, nor somebody who the pc can sleep with. you can make a pass at him! he'll play along for the most part, but he'll always decline to actually get physical with you.

calling for help at night outside around town has a low chance of getting isaac's attention. this is where you see a slip in his personable, charming all-american boy mask; the pc will note that after scaring their attackers off, isaac seems a lot more closed off and brusque when checking on the pc before leaving.

the killing would most definitely start after the first time he rescued the pc. important to note: he isn't killing for the pc specifically, there is no yandere trope happening there! it would definitely cause a buzz around the town, as it would be grizzly and something of a statement piece.

if you noticed the ghosties in the bg behind his art, that was on purpose lol! isaac is specifically a GF oc — i dont really think this would change. i pull a little from the movies but lean pretty heavy in dbd's version for inspo! ie — isaac is the original, there were movies based off his killings, copycats cropped up now and then, he shares the same 'freelance journalist' thing as danny (and the fake names, isaac isnt his actual name). for a dol setting, i think id just mesh what i already have in that 1. He is the og Ghostface 2. There are movies based on his killings & copycats came from it.

thinking on how he'd of stumbled into doltown; i'm thinkiiing, there was too much heat in the states, as the cops began to get closer to his trail, so he dipped. he's legitimately a journalist by day, so he probably took an overseas job that involved looking into the "whacky zany town of dol!" — unfortunately for everyone in town, he's pretty damn good at his job & whatever dumb thing they'd of wanted him to actually write about, he'd of steered immediately towards the darker rumors of the town.

as for kissing him? mmm it would be poooossible... but it would probably be a volatile slow burn haha. his relationship with sex isnt good, so a pc that tried to jump his bones would get a big fat sims tier --🧍‍♂️negative interaction. he may eventually give in if pushed hard enough, but its more of a hatesex thing at that point — which some pcs may be gunning for! more power to em haha. i think you could also get more of a "good route" going but its like, ""good"" only by comparison of the alternative. :") he's still a slasher! and even if he were a LI with full love for you, that wouldn't save you from his impulses or ideations. tbh, he'd probably wana kill you more if he "loved" you!

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

If NO ONE will talk about the connections between Encanto and The Outsiders, I will.

-the characters, okay, the character crossovers,

Ponyboy Curtis is Mirabel Madrigal (the quirkyyyy one who thinks differently/is differently main character energy)

Sodapop Curtis is Isabel Madrigal (the pretty one who often gets seen as only beautiful/perfect and shallow because of it, but really do have a kind soul and are willing to sacrifice so much for their family)

Darry Curtis is Luisa Madrigal!!!!!! (The strong one, heavily depended on for physical/emotional labor, always stressed and worried about taking care of the family)

Two bit Mathews is Camilo Madrigal (the comedic character that drops hints of a deeper person/meaning but no one ever talks about it, also secretly tired of having to keep up the jokes all the time and never being trusted with anything serious)

Johnny Cade is Antonio Madrigal (shyer more dependent character who is close to having a massive character change~ possibly coming of age)

Dallas Winston is Bruno Madrigal (I see the connection here not in personality but how people act about these types of characters- abandoned, taboo characters who get shoved away, deemed as wicked)

Steve Randle is Delores Madrigal (often ignored but actually carries a big part in the plot which is never discussed- this character has a lot connections and uses them, also worth noting that Delores kinda treats Mirabel like Steve treats Pony with the innocent seeming snarky remarks, if you don’t understand I am referring to “Oh, she didn’t get one” when talking about gifts which was absolutely unnecessary)

-not to mention the “big family” trope in both of them

-and they both have trio siblingsss

-both have similar tropes of “adults not understanding” and abuse in families

-not to mention the outsiders is a musical and so is encanto

-also like some of the Songs are sooooo coded for certain outsiders characters

-imma do a list of that tbh

“The Family Madrigal” ~Ponyboy Curtis coded, he would introduce the gang like this

“Waiting on a Miracle”~ I know is seems Ponyboy Curtis coded, but this is a motherfreaking Johnny Cade song at heart no one can tell me otherwise “Can’t keep down the unspoken invisible pain, always waiting in a miracle” like TELL me that isn’t Johnny Cade

“Surface Pressure” DARRRY CURTIS SONG RIGHT HERE I MADE A POST ABOUT THIS

“We don’t talk about Bruno” Dallas Winston, pretty straight forward

“What Else Can I Do?” Honestly even though Soda has a lot in common with Isabel I don’t think it’s his song- I think it’s Steve’s.

“Dos Oruguitas” SAME ENERGY AS STAY GOLD PONYBOYYYYT AHHHH I CANT~ Johnny Cade, Ponyboy Curtis coded ahhhh song

“All of you” Ponyboy in that one line of like “Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better.” But really this song is whole gang coded in different moments

“Colombia, Mi Encanto” I get Two Bit Mathews energy from this song- celebratory, ​beautiful, happy

-honestly this is the Part One of a longggggggg series of rants

-also this isn’t a connection but Delores is evil go watch the MatPat film theory here’s the link

Comment anything or shoot an ask about any of YOUR connections!

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

@alittlebitofloveliness

@ac3ifix