#The mysterious town of oak hill

[chosos-mascara]

red, blood

𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

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

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

10.8k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The haze lifted, slowly. 

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

good luck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked to the floor, exhaling slowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Choso.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll learn." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

rbs and comments are really appreciated <3

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

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo fic #choso kamo smut #choso kamo thirst #choso kamo jjk #choso kamo vampire #kamo choso vampire #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso jjk #kamo choso smut #choso kamo imagine #choso kamo x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk men smut #jjk choso #jjk kamo #kamo x reader #jjk choso x reader #choso jjk x reader #jjk self insert #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso x reader #choso smut #choso fanfic #jjk fanfic #choso x y/n #choso x you

[haebe-doesart]

dear @i-got-hit-by-a-planet, happy holidays!!! this is my gift for you from the @mcytblrholidayexchange, I hope you like it! :D

beta-ed by @rutellingmeashrimpfriedthisrice tysm for your help!

Summary: Joel and Scar travel the kingdoms selling crystals reputed to give magical properties. Their caravan is always ready for a hasty getaway, for no particular reason.

text under the cut if you prefer:

So, against the odds, it continues...

It starts when Joel tries to sell magic beans to Scar, desperate and not very convincing, and gets an offer of partnership instead. Joel has his reservations at first, but—as previously mentioned—he's desperate. They end up working well together; Scar with his charisma and Joel with his easygoing nature, and when it comes to it, brute force.

The caravan swings off the main path and through what feels like a wall of fully-grown berry bushes, then slows to a stop. The horses snort in protest, Scar exclaims "oh, goodness me!" from inside, and Joel grumbles as he dismounts; was that really a path?

Nevertheless, it appears they have arrived in the Fairy Fort. An abandoned stronghold of a faction long disbanded, nature has overtaken the castle that once stood on the hill. Superstitions and legends spread like wildfire here, and no traveller dares cut back the brambles in the way of its eastern entrance for fear of retribution.

Joel picks the more stubborn branches from his hair and surveys the clearing they're in. It's surrounded by eerily skeletal oak trees, the occasional leaf clinging valiantly to its branch, but the denseness of the trees more than makes up for the thin foliage. Only dappled patches of sunlight reach the forest floor, which is patterned with red and brown mushrooms.

He spots a circle of them ringed by darkened grass and carefully gives it a wide berth as he checks on the horses. Forget superstitions, what were they thinking, letting horses trample through that mess?

The horses have stopped but not stilled. They don't seem hurt, fortunately, pawing at the ground with their hooves. Emerging from within the caravan, Scar slips past Joel to pet them and thank them for their work.

"Who's a good horse?" he croons, running his fingers through their manes. "You are, yes you are."

"Am I, Scar? I didn't know that." Joel asks, amused. He can't help it, really, and laughs when Scar yelps and flails, turning around with a hand on his heart.

"Joel, you can't do that to a man!" he protests. Joel holds his hands up in apology, shaking his head.

"Sorry, sorry!"

After a brief rest, they continue deeper into the grove, proceeding more cautiously. The horses rear occasionally, whinnying at something unknown. Joel hangs strings of bells on the reins, and sews protective charms into Scar's and his clothes. It doesn't hurt to be careful; they're here because they're greedy, not because they have a death wish.

They pass a large swathe of land ravaged by a forest fire. Scorch marks reach up the stumps of trees left behind, soot and ash painting the area in streaks of grey. The air is oddly warm, too, as if the fire had just recently been extinguished instead of having burnt out ages past. Legend has it, this is the place where the undead witch Cleo had her fiery revenge against those who wronged her.

But the place isn't only defined by the legends hanging over it. There's a thriving community of people—who are, presumably, not fairies—set up in the town. It's almost worth the rough journey over, Joel thinks, as they settle into a cosy inn for a meal. Laughter and chatter fill the room, and after they've overcome their reservations about fairy food, it's the most relaxed they've been in weeks. Joel blows the steam off a warm bowl of mushroom stew as Scar charms the diners beside them, pitching an array of protective crystals set into lockets, bracelets, and rings.

They don't need to know the iron chains cost more than the centrepieces. At least they aren't really lying when they say their wares can protect them; iron does help against the fairies reputed to live here. Scar's doing them a favour, frankly.

Speaking of whom, Scar's pitch has progressed from fanciful to outright unbelievable as he gets caught up in the delights of storytelling, and Joel quickly sets down his bowl to intervene.

And continues...

The wheels of the caravan clatter over the uneven path, rocking it from side to side. Leaning against one window, Scar peers outward to the forest. They are departing the kingdom of BEST, pockets heavy with swindled gold, and Scar can't help but whoop in delight. A passing wind sweeps away the sound and loses it amongst the rustling of leaves.

The farther out of BEST territory they go, the sparser the leaves become. Evergreen spruce trees melt into dry, barer branches as the deciduous oaks and birches shed their leaves in the winter wind. The movement of the caravan kicks up a cool breeze, and Scar fancies he sees snowflakes drifting along the chilly air. That is surely just his imagination, however; it is not that cold yet.

Ahead, Joel steers the horses to their next destination. He's humming, cheerful, as is usual after their customary stop at the town of Snowpeak. The people there come from all places, though the locals are used to their tricks. Joel cares more for the company; Etho the trickster is stationed at the Snow Fort, the fortress that gives the town its name. Scar, for his part, is happy to conduct dealings from the caravan alone while Joel attempts to charm Etho, or what Joel does.

There's an exclamation of surprise, and Joel tugs on the reins; the caravan lurches past a fallen tree. The pots by the window swing from their hooks and Scar rushes to their side, hands flying frantically. Ah, the hazards of a moving home.

He settles the assorted plants—succulents and kalanchoes, which will bloom in the springtime—and pats the ceramic pots as if to say "now stay put!".

Behind, the white walls of the Snow Fort are slowly fading into the mist. When the snow comes, it will gather on the spruce walkways and pile against calcite walls, letting the fortress live up to its name. Until then, the most arresting feature of the fortress is its soulsand defences, cleverly built under planks; they leave enemies stumbling while their allies skate past with charmed shoes. Scar has one of those, too—and plenty of fakes that he's sold to curious travellers and prying enemies.

Not that Scar takes sides, of course. No, no; he's completely independent... but Joel does, and Scar likes the leverage it gives him. (That, and he's afraid of Etho—though he'll never say that!)

And continues…

The smoky scent of gunpowder floats about him. Joel carefully transfers the explosive powder onto the waxed paper, holding his breath as the movement sends clouds of dust blossoming into the air. Gunpowder is volatile, light, and exceedingly easy to ignite. Joel resists the urge to brush the specks of grey from his sleeves; the slightest friction could set the whole thing off.

Later, when there isn't a full pouch of the stuff inches from him. Of all the ways to go, exploding because he couldn't stand getting his clothes dirty is not his preferred one.

He is in a clearing, a safe distance—he hopes—away from their caravan. Through the thick tree trunks, he can hear Scar humming to himself, though he has to strain his ears. Softer still is the sound of a campfire crackling, the contented neighing of horses, and the scratch of ink against paper as Scar writes. It's a domestic little scene that Joel can practically see, made familiar from years of travel, and he is struck with an intense, almost dizzying need to protect it.

Hence why he's doing this, he supposes. The vigilantes known as Smajor and Moon have been worrying at their heels, making trouble for the two of them. Joel intends to send them a message, and he's out of fancy paper, so explosions it is.

Joel reaches—slowly, holding his breath—for a piece of string. With a finger holding the paper in its folded position, he loops the string carefully around the package.

The rest of the mechanism is easy to assemble. The string is tied to a latch attached—say that ten times fast—to a spring, which holds a stopper linked to a string of fishing line in place. Ingenious, really. With the slightest step on the tripwire, the package of gunpowder will tear open and spill into the space between the open latch and the casing. The catch swings back due to the spring, which sparks against the gunpowder, and— boom.

Joel feels pretty pleased with himself for coming up with that. He divides the gunpowder into two packages and slots them into his bag with the rest of his materials. The wax will hopefully reduce any stray friction as he travels to the Scottage, where he'll set the whole thing up.

As he heads back to their campsite, he notices that Scar is indeed sitting by the fire. Joel lingers by the trees, bag hanging from a far branch as he starts brushing the last of the grey powder from his arms. There is a series of soft pops as they ignite, but in small quantities, they're harmless enough. Once he's satisfied, he retrieves his things and returns to his partner.

And continues...

Years ago, Scar took up lapidary on a whim, liking the process of shaping gems and jewels. He learnt how to use the files, templates, rock tumblers, and trim saws; charmed his way into an apprenticeship with a local jeweller. He handled rubies, emeralds, lapis, even a diamond or two. When the money ran low and the mines lost their wealth, it was just a switch to a cheaper, more brittle material.

Scar turns his attention to the pieces of glass in front of him. Or should he say, crystals? His newest batch: a dazzling array of crystals in pink, green, and violet. He picks one up to polish and smooths a finger over the natural-looking bevels. It really is his best work yet. He'd made them on the journey over, sanding and polishing each chunk of glass to a perfect shine.

It is tricky to write on a moving vehicle, though, which is why Scar leaves the intricate details till they arrive. Later comes the ribbons; gauzy, delicate, and most importantly, pretty.

In the lull between customers, or the quiet at the end of the day, he loops lengths of ribbon around each crystal and writes in shimmery ink on perfectly cut paper. Pretty little labels in a flowing script, making fantastical claims of the crystals' properties. Strength, Luck, Protection… Everyone underestimates the power of presentation, and Scar'll be damned if he doesn't use that to his advantage at every opportunity.

They've set up shop in Sunspark, a village on the outskirts of the Southlands. A sta-hall, Joel would call it, because "when in Rome", right?

At this time of day, the cobblestone streets are empty. The air is still, as if waiting with bated breath for something to break the silence. Seated at their stall, Scar watches the sun set slowly, dipping over the roofs of the houses across the square.

It's winter and the days have shortened. Golden light spills onto the counter, catches and refracts through the glass— through the crystals. It catches on Joel's hair as he ducks through the doorway.

"Hey, Scar," says Joel, sleeves rolled up and hair in a bun. His voice is lowered, like he has also sensed the hushed atmosphere. There's a clock swinging from his vest, delicate clockwork outlined in gold and lapis, small diamonds inset to act as miniature stars. It's extravagant and practical, exactly how Joel likes his possessions.

He checks it; the hand ticks closer to night. "Good day today… I'm thinking another day here and it'll be about time we pack up,"

"Yeah, yeah, absolutely," Scar agrees. He leans on the counter, attention drifting around the area. A crow pecks at a gap between the cobblestones, the clicks of its beak against stone echoing faintly.

There's a flicker of movement between the houses. Scar tenses. Joel follows his line of sight and swivels around, crouching slightly in preparation.

A strong wind whooshes past.

A man bursts from the shadows, cloak billowing in the wind. For a second, all Scar can see is a deep scowl and the glint of eyes under the hood. Then, he gasps as it is thrown back to reveal a very familiar face.

"Grian?" he can't help but exclaim. Scar knows him; Grian is one of five leaders of the Southlands' most notorious faction, a rowdy bunch called the Spyglasses. Apart from that, well, Scar may or may not have recognised Solidarity, another Spyglass, at his stall yesterday. And he may or may not have sold him... false goods. But that's neither here nor there!

Beside him, Joel yells, "What are you doing here?"

Grian skids to a stop, hair wild and eyes alight with righteous indignation. Scar recognises the look, because it's often directed at him by previous customers. He rises from his seat, readying himself to start running.

Before Grian can launch into a rant—Scar remembers those, too—he pauses and does a double-take. "Scar? Joel?"

"Yes, yes, we know each other's names; we're all very famous people." Joel sighs, waving aside Grian's spluttering objections. He pauses, feigns disinterest as he looks Grian up and down. "We're actually closed, you know, but we'll make an exception for you. I suppose."

"Why hello there, good sir," Scar sweeps into a bow obligingly. As always, Joel brings the managerial aloofness and Scar plays the friendly sales clerk. "May I interest you in some wares?"

"NO!" Grian shouts, laughter creeping into his voice regardless. "No, Scar, you cannot!"

He jabs a finger at Scar, sending Joel into raucous shouts of laughter. Grian slides a glare in his direction; Joel laughs harder. "You scammed Jimmy! Do you know how much I heard about you two liars and scoundrels today?"

"Nooo?" Scar tries for innocence. He knows how much Jimmy, code name Solidarity, talks when he's upset, indignant, or otherwise feeling wronged. That's why they like winding him up the most—and Grian's reactions are just the cherry on top.

Joel has quietened and slunk to Grian's back, a smirk splitting his face in two. There is no threat here, though they'll probably have to leave the town ahead of schedule if they've been discovered. If they can just redirect Grian's attention…

"A— a lot, alright? He won't stop going on about you and your protective crystals," Grian says, disdain dripping from the last two words. Joel makes elaborate gestures behind his back, culminating in a dramatic pantomime of his ears falling off his face from, presumably, Jimmy's constant talking. Scar stifles a snort.

"Wha—" Grian whirls around, suspicious, and sighs. "Very funny, Joel,"

When he turns back, the stall is empty—of both crystals and Scar himself. Joel's snickers linger as the pair melt swiftly into the shadows, disappearing down the winding streets to the sounds of Grian's screeching.

And continues...

For all the glamour of a life of trickery and travel, it has its mundane times. Now, as the first frost breaks across the land, their pace slows in concession to the dropping temperatures and Joel can't help but feel a little restless.

They are in the Southlands again—Amethyst's Peak, nestled deeper into the territory—because Scar has more contacts there. Joel wonders if they'll meet the Spyglasses again. It's too fun to mess with them, really; Grian's dramatic anger aside, they are actually quite friendly with the pair of conmen and there's no end to their shenanigans when they meet.

Business has slowed for Joel and Scar though, now that they have to operate on foot while the caravan is off for repairs. Joel wishes them luck with it; there are splinters and cracks and dirt in every corner, born of a year of constant travel.

In its absence, Scar has gotten them a place of sorts. It's a lovely house, charming even, and especially welcome on a cold day like this. Where the biting wind would have pried its way through the slats of the caravan, the brick and mortar of the house keeps the interior comfortably warm. Joel sits himself by the fireplace and wraps his hands around a mug of wine. Scar is sat by the window, nose practically pressed to the glass as he watches the snow pile on the street outside, falling in not so much flakes as clusters of snow.

"Scar..." Joel calls to him, tipping his head at an angle to stare sideways at his partner in crime. "I'm bored."

"Well, why don't you look at all this snow!" Scar suggests and turns to look at him, delight evident in the expressive flying of his hands. Joel doesn't want to look at some boring snow. Plus, he's still shivering from that morning, when a sudden heavy snowstorm sent them sprinting across the street back to shelter.

He says as much to Scar, concluding with a pout, "And I didn't get to buy those books, even though I've been looking bloomin' everywhere for those!"

"Hey, that's not too bad!" Scar says. His hands fly some more. "We can go back tomorrow, if you like."

"Yeah, tomorrow, while a sheet of solid ice falls on our head out there." Joel retorts sarcastically. Scar follows his gaze out the window, where the thick flurry of snow blocks out the street. The glow of lanterns shines weakly through the onslaught; still, it is hard to even make out the silhouettes of the houses opposite.

"…You have a point." He concedes.

"But I'm about to go mad here; what can we even do?"

"That's the question, isn't it, Joel?" Scar sighs. There's a certain distant quality to his sigh that suggests Joel is in for a long speech. "I don't have the faintest clue. We've been on the road for so long—don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change that at all—but now that it has been changed, Joel, against our will; we are at a loss. Perhaps we've gotten too used to the rapid pace of…"

"Let's play cards," Joel heads off the incoming introspection. He searches his bag—still unpacked, shoved into the closet while they took in as much of the town before winter hit in full force—for a deck. Scar abandons a sweeping gesture and hurries to his side, making grabby hands for the cards.

They don't get to the 'playing' aspect of playing cards. Scar is too engrossed in shuffling them in increasingly elaborate ways, and Joel eggs him on and attempts to vanish an ace up his sleeve. Still, amidst the falling card towers and the scattered cards of a failed shuffling, the snow gathers around them.

Joel cuts the deck of cards again and starts anew. He thinks of winter days and sunny laughter, of endless unlikely tales and the clink of glass-turned-crystal. His pocket watch ticks on, counting the seconds until they're ready to go on the road again. Together— always.

#mcytblrholidayexchange2023 #joel smallishbeans #goodtimeswithscar #last life #magical mountain #trafficblr #hae wrote #YIPPEE!!!!!! IM SO HYPED FOR REVEALS!!!!

[venusofsuburbia]

working title: wicker hollow

among emily call’s tight-knit cohort of grad students, professor andrew abbott reigns supreme— and his sudden disappearance sends them reeling. determined to find him, she and inspector silas oakes trace his steps to wicker hollow, a strange town untouched by modernity, where the rites and rituals that she thought existed only in books flourish in the high heat of spring, watched over by the mysterious siblings in the manor house on the hill.

“nature’s first green is gold; her hardest hue to hold.”

#it’s the w*cker man! it’s sleepy h*llow! it’s my frustations with gender essentialist tradcraft weirdness about The Divine Feminine! #and most importantly #it is very evil and more than a little gay #wip #ok to rb #my stuff

[betrayalads]

THE CHALICE CALLS. . .

There is a house up on the hill that nobody lives in. It’s been unoccupied for nearly a century yet despite the cobwebs and ivy, this mansion stands proud as if untouched by time. No one in the small Irish town of Balheath can deny the allure of it. Staring up at its tall black spires and grand oak doors, one can start to imagine themselves with a better life. Perhaps the riches of the previous resident still lie waiting inside. Perhaps there could be a new owner of the grand estate and all its land. Perhaps that could be you. 

But there are warnings and whispers. Some say they hear screams in the night coming from the house on the hill. Those who have gone to investigate the wailing come back shaking and hollow-eyed. They speak of terrifying and impossible visions. The house is haunted, without a doubt. Even a skeptic could see the danger a decrepit mansion could hold. If you are brave enough to climb the iron wrought fence and enter the manor you may find fortune, but something else may find you first.

WILL YOU ANSWER ?

BETRAYALHQ is a small skeleton rp based on Betrayal: House on the Hill Legacy. This rp follows six families for six generations spanning from 1881 to the present day. The rp will involve dice-rolling mechanics and an intensive mystery plot. The rp will explore themes common to gothic literature such as the perseverance of guilt, the way greed robs people of their humanity, and the lengths people will go to survive.

MAIN ✹ ASK  ✹ SKELETONS

#period rp #new rp #oc rp #skeleton rp #horror rp

[elisabethelliott]

How to Start a Wildfire

Summer heat so oppressive, it makes the mosquitos pant? check. A family curse going back a couple of centuries? check. Secrets festering in every corner? Eldritch things lurking in the dark? check.

How to Start a Wildfire by Elisabeth S. Elliott

A Southern Gothic mystery set in the small town of Edom, Louisiana.

Most of the future that Cara Deerfield hoped for fell by the wayside a long while back, a casualty of more dire obligations. In a life riddled with loss, she fights to hold onto what little she has. For as long as Cara can remember, she’s been visited by dreams of a burning tree – the enormous live oak in front of the abandoned house right down the hill. When a stranger moves in, she catches people in town talking about him like he’s some kin to the boogeyman. It doesn’t stop her from meeting him or trying to befriend him. After all, whispers have gone around about her own family.

Coming home is no easy thing for Thierry Cotton. He’s been gone for a very long time, and returning to Edom feels like slogging into darkness. When the woman who lives in the only other house on his backroad comes drifting into his yard, it’s like she’s set a spark to tinder. There’s something about her, something familiar that draws him. He can’t ignore her any more than he can ignore what goes on in his home or the woods surrounding them. There are things that he needs to face, though, before he can find any sort of peace with the past that drove him away in the first place. He has work to do.

There’s always been something seething beneath the surface of Edom, smothered under blissful disregard and sweet Louisiana manners. When the unthinkable happens, when it seems the community has a murderer in its midst, some old ideals rear their ugly heads. What was left in the dark long ago must come to light. And as evil flirts with Edom right out in the open, Cara and Thierry find themselves connected through the past and present in more ways than one.

How to Start a Wildfire has reached the end of the in-depth outline process, resulting in 26k words of pre-writing. I’m about to dive into work on chapter one. Aiming to publish in mid to late 2024.

If Patreon is something you participate in, please consider having a look at mine (link in my pinned post). There’s at least one update every Saturday morning (usually a second with some kind of extras), and quite a bit of backlog to enjoy at this point. Ongoing, there are progress updates, inspiration image posts, character introduction posts, and there will be excerpts of actual story soon. The occasional poll turns up, as well!

And if you’ve read this far, thank you for reading and for your time!

#southern gothic #books #self publishing #bookblr #patreon #writers #authors #mystery #remaking this post because tumblr decided it didn't need to show up in tags for some reason #i'm hoping i fixed it

[tortoisesshells]

top 5 ships (as in boats)?? :')

I'm going with fictional ships for the sake of argument, but:

(1) The Flying Dutchman (potc)- Dead Man's Chest knocked me off my chair (and onto the grimy floor of the theater in [town name redacted]) several times, but the sudden appearance of the Dutchman surging out of the water really set a new standard for "oh now that's a fucking haunted ship". She's decaying. She's got a massive pipe organ that's purely there for the drama. She's a cursed ship of the dead and damned. Who among us can best her?

(2) The Kerberos (1899)- ship of NIGHTMARES. Massive props to the member of the production team who said they wanted the Kerberos to feel like the anti-Titanic: you clever bastards succeeded beyond your wildest dreams. Dark, menacing, incomprehensibly portentously decorated even in the first class dining saloon, subject of wildly unethical science experiments, complete with mysterious trauma oubliettes, hundreds of miles from anything, and the command structure conveniently pre-disintegrated! I'm booking passage aboard as we speak.

(3) USS Constitution (Fallout 4 vintage) - you know, I don't think enough people have asked the most important question of our time, which is (to whit): what if we allowed robots (who apparently believe themselves to be Isaac Hull and his crew) to strap moonshot rockets to the sides of the USS Constitution? The answer is: well, thank goodness for live oak sides, even 200+ years after the end of the world. Anyway, my good friend Captain Ironsides has never let me down.

(4) USS Tiger Shark (Below) - HAUNTED. SO HAUNTED. What if you were on a submarine that wanted you to die, as well as, you know, the whole of the Kriegsmarine operating in the Atlantic, as well? It would suck, but the record player with a mind of its own (and the mirror that's displaced in time?) were undoubtedly rad. A+ submarine.

(5) The Pequod (Moby-Dick) - "[...]you never saw such a rare old craft as this same rare old Pequod. [...] She was a thing of trophies. [...] tricking herself forth in the chased bones of her enemies. All round, her unpanelled, open bulwarks were garnished like one continuous jaw, with the long sharp teeth of the sperm whale, inserted there for pins, to fasten her old hempen thews and tendons to. Those thews ran not through base blocks of land wood, but deftly travelled over sheaves of sea-ivory. Scorning a turnstile wheel at her reverend helm, she sported there a tiller; and that tiller was in one mass, curiously carved from the long narrow lower jaw of her hereditary foe." bless Ishmael for finding this cool, and even sexy, as opposed to running back to the green hills of New England.

Ask me my "Top 5" anything!

#honorable mention to the Indie of Hornblower fame. her musical cue lives on forever in my head. #but that did not go with the theme of ' terribly haunted ' I've mostly got going here. what if a ship were incomprehensibly haunted?: #the most important question of my time. #ask meme #polkaknox talks #this IS below propaganda. it's not good and you won't thank me but it IS good. you understand.

[brightoakgame]

What inspired this game?

Thank you for the Ask! ✨ My first Marginalia post covers this in much more detail, but to trim that down to a shorter version of inspirations and influences: Bright Oak emerged from one of the more cluttered corners of my mind; the roots of the story are the result of a dream, a Wired article about a font, the first season of Stranger Things, and a fondness for sleepy town farming simulators such as Stardew Valley. The dream gave me the loose structure of a town cut off by a mysterious force, the people banding together in the face of adversity-- and a stranger arriving in the midst of everything, obliged by circumstance to throw in their lot with the town. Stranger Things gifted me with a nearby research facility, whose experiments have unforeseen consequences. Cozy farming sims suggested the key resources a town might have, both in the way of structures and officials: the sheriff, the doctor, the general store, the diner.

Beyond that, I drew enormous inspiration from the sensory setting of the California hills and mountains (a landscape that has whispered fairy tales to me my entire life), as well as the concepts of time and memory (this is where the font article plays in).

Also, if you're interested how the individual characters and overall storyline developed, this previous Ask addresses it directly! 💕

#bright oak #character asks #visual novel #game dev #writing process #fiction writing #creative process #abject chaos #interactive fiction #oelvn

[holysanctum-a]

ACTIVE MUSELIST.

STEPHEN KING UNIVERSE

eddie kaspbrak

beverly marsh

richie tozier

patricia uris

audra phillips

ben hanscom

stan uris

carrie white

sue snell

wendy torrance

danny torrance

AVATAR SERIES

ronal of the metkayina

neytiri of the omaticaya

tsireya of the omaticaya

WEDNESDAY 2022 / THE ADDAMS FAMILY SERIES

wednesday addams

enid sinclair

xavier thorpe

tyler galpin

bianca barclay

morticia addams

pubert addams

pugsley addams

ophelia frump

deborah jellinsky

STRANGER THINGS

steve harrington

nancy wheeler

eddie munson

robin buckley

chrissy cunningham

tammy thompson

jane ives hopper

will byers

jonathan byers

joyce byers

angela russell

alexei volkov

erica sinclair

lucas sinclair

max mayfield

dustin henderson

tina coleman

carol perkins

mike wheeler

eden bingham

suzie bingham

gareth hill

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

house of the dragon;

rhaenyra targaryen

alicent hightower

ser harwin strong

helaena targaryen

mysaria

alys rivers

H20: ADD WATER

cleo sertori

rikki chadwick

emma gilbert

isabella hartley

MONSTER HIGH

cleo de nile

abbey abominable

spectra vondergeist

robecca steam

laura dracul

jinafire long

torelei stripes

clawdeen wolf

c.a cupid

lagoona blue

ghoulia yelps

scarah screams

rochelle goyle

katrina de-mew

viperine gorgon

venus mcflytrap

gigi grants

SCREAM

sidney prescott

tatum riley

charlie walker

kirby reed

HALLOWEEN

laurie strode

annie brackett

lynda van der klok

allyson strode

michael myers

judith myers

ANOES 2010

nancy holbrook

quentin smith

kris fowles

gwen holbrook

AMERICAN HORROR STORY

zoe benson

violet harmon

madison montgomery

misty day

brooke thompson

montana duke

UNTIL DAWN ( adapted from canon. )

emily davis

ashley brown

jessica riley

sam giddings

beth washington

THE QUARRY ( adapted from canon. )

max brinly

emma mountebank

ryan erzahler

kaitlyn ka

jacob custos

abigail blyg

nicholas furcillo

pansy parkinson

lily evans / potter

narcissa black / malfoy

hannah abbott

ginny weasley

andromeda black / tonks

nymphadora tonks

zhang qiu

daphne greengrass

astoria greengrass

luna lovegood

fleur delacour

marlene mckinnon

dorcas meadowe

mary macdonald

molly weasley

katie bell

lavender brown

tracey davis

millicent bulstrode

susan bones

cedric diggory

helena ravenclaw

angelina johnson

alicia spinnet

parvati patil

anne sallow

sebastian sallow

poppy sweeting

adelaide oakes

charlie weasley

PRETTY LITTLE LIARS

spencer hastings

allison dilaurentis

aria montgomery

hanna marin

THE HUNGER GAMES

klatniss everdeen

primrose everdeen

clove heidenriek

annie cresta

johanna mason

finnick odair

peeta mellark

MARVEL

jean grey

emma frost

gwen stacy

mary jane watson

peter parker

clint barton

pepper potts

kate bishop

anna marie

DC

harleen quinzel

selina kyle

pamela isley

rachel roth

june moone / enchantress

bruce wayne

barbara gordon

dick grayson

jason todd

harvey dent

TWILIGHT

isabella swan

jane volturi

rosalie hale

alice cullen

CORPSE BRIDE

emily petterson

victor van dort

victoria everglot

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

sally hardesty

THE CABIN IN THE WOODS

dana polk

jules louden

HOCUS POCUS

sarah sanderson

winifred sanderson

mary sanderson

alison blythe

dani dennison

emily binx

FEAR STREET SERIES

sam fraser

deena johnson

simon kalivoda

sheila greene

hannah miller

sarah fier

corky corcoran

annie greene

becky hemmings

will goode

ziggy berman

cindy berman

joan kutcherson

alice gallagher

BRIDE OF CHUCKY

tiffany valentine

THE CRAFT

nancy downs

AQUAMARINE

aquamarine brown

GREASE

sandy olsen

betty rizzo

marty maraschino

frenchy conrad

THE OUTSIDERS

marcia smith

cherry valance

MYSTERY INC

daphne blake.

dorothy blake.

daisy blake.

delilah blake.

dawn blake.

velma dinkley.

sally mcknight.

dusk davenport.

luna reynolds.

HALLOWEEN TOWN

marnie piper

sophie piper

scarlet sinister

THE BLACK PHONE

vance hopper

finney blake

griffin stagg

donna

billy

THE WALKING DEAD & GAME

maggie greene

beth greene

judith grimes

sophia peletier

carl grimes

clementine

carley

RESIDENT EVIL

rebecca chambers

jill valentine

claire redfield

leon kennedy

ada wong

sherry berkins

donna beneviento

bela dimitrescu

daniela dimitrescu

cassandra dimitrescu

CHARMED

piper halliwell

phoebe halliwell

prue halliwell

paige matthews

parker halliwell

p.j halliwell

tamora mitchell

kat mitchell

chris halliwell

THE VIRGIN SUICIDES

lux lisbon

bonnie lisbon

mary lisbon

therese lisbon

cecilia lisbon

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT

jane romero

lee yunjin

feng min

kimura yui

the onryo

the ghostface

the huntress

dwight fairfield

meg thomas

nea karlsson

claudette morel

kate denson

mikaela reid

the legion: julie kostenko

the legion: susie lavoie

the legion: joey campbell

the spirit

the nurse

the plague

zarina kassir

élodie rakoto

david king

adam francis

the pig

the trapper

the hillbilly

the doctor

the wraith

felix richter

jake park

the trickster

heather mason

yoichi asakawa

lisa garland

the executioner

alessa gillespie

SILENT HILL

maria

mary sunderland

jodie mason

harry mason

VALORANT

viper

sage

jett

neon

skye

reyna

fade

killjoy

raze

STARDEW VALLEY

haley

alex

jodi

leah

sam

abigail

maru

shane

EMH

vinnie.

jeff.

jessie.

jessa.

steph.

MISC

rouge the bat — sonic universe

princess peach — mario universe

princess daisy — mario universe

princess rosalina — mario universd

barbie — barbie cinematic universe

abigail hobbs — hannibal ( soloblog @fawneyes )

veronica sawyer — heathers

lydia martin — teen wolf

allison argent — teen wolf

malia tate — teen wolf

faye chamberlain — the secret circle

martha may whovier — the grinch

rose cotter — smile 2022

jennifer check — jennifer's body ( pre-succubus. )

anita lesnicki — jennifer's body

colin gray — jennifer's body

layla williams — sky high

magenta hui — sky high

gwen grayson — sky high

penny lent — sky high

ginger fitzgerald — gingersnaps

patrick bateman — american psycho

sarah miller — tlou

dina — tlou

shauna shipman — yellowjackets

jackie taylor — yellowjackets

jade west — victorious

tori vega — victorious

cat valentine — victorious

elijah — midnight scenes : from the woods.

virginia — sons of the forrest.

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

mason wheeler — stranger things

spencer harrington — stranger things

priscilla munson — stranger things ( affiliated with @slaymetal )

kevin watson — stranger things

avonna-leigh millicent lane — stranger things ( affiliated with @hauntingh0ur )

ember riley smith

haerelian — affiliated with @seirsenes

cordelia syphe

princess saereliette of alryia — stardew valley

thorn winters — resident evil : village.

oleander sykes carson — pyreford mystery series.

marisol renatta lora — pyreford mystery series.

seraphina holly-grace saddler — pyreford mystery series.

marilyn victoire ophelia blackwell — fandomless with verses in teen wolf, stranger things and IT.

lauren richter — dead by daylight.

legion : bambi ( beatrice dane ) — dead by daylight.

milana renee van der kamp — stranger things ( affiliated with @jedova )

lorelei koen — the last of us.

isabelle walker — until dawn.

matilda greaves — emh / scream.

princess helanys — elden ring.

rosalind wilson — apocalypse based.

marina james — sons of the forrest.

[strangermoons]

The Beat Has Just Begun: chapter 5 extras

Happy birthday to this story! We've come a long way, baby. First fic I ever wrote that made it past the 5K mark, and only the second one I've finished.

I don't have anything research-related to say about this chapter so instead I'll ramble behind the cut about my general approach to the geography of Hawkins.

There is, to my knowledge, no official map of Hawkins. There are prop maps, but they differ from season to season. I found a reddit post that tried to place on-screen locations on a map based on various clues given in the show, and that generated a map unlike any of the prop maps I've found. What, then, is a literal-minded pedantic little nerd to do?

Well, I ended up taking the season 3 prop map that Hopper steals from the mayor's house in episode 4 (mostly because I found a nice scan of it early on when writing this story) and built my own version of Hawkins on top of it which I try to keep consistent. During my note-taking rewatch I made sure to note down every mentioned address and every legible street sign, and jotted down the name and approximate location of every business that appeared on-screen. I then reconciled this with the prop map, where possible.

I ran into issues pretty early on; for one thing, the route to Hopper's cabin goes from “take Denfield, then you’ll see a large oak tree. You’re gonna swing a right. That road is gonna dead-end. And it’s about a 5-minute walk from there.” in S2E9 to Hopper driving right up to the porch in S3E2. The Mayfield-Hargrove home mysteriously relocates from Old Cherry Road (S2E2) to 4819 Cherry Lane (S3E8). In S2E9 Hopper meets up with Sam Owens at a diner - or is it a bar? there are pool tables - called The Hideaway, but in S4E1 Eddie's extremely improbable* Corroded Coffin gigs are at a dive bar called The Hideout. Now, it's not impossible that two establishments in a small town would have such similar names, but it does seem a bit silly. If they're both supposed to be the same establishment it's kind of a sloppy mistake.

And then there are things like: Forest Hills trailer park is apparently seven miles away from the Wheelers' home on Maple Street. How big is Hawkins even supposed to be?

In the end I figured the most important thing was to have an internally consistent version of the town in my head that I could draw on when I'm writing, just so I don't end up making something a 10-minute walk in one scene and a 20-minute drive in another. I've tried to use street names from either the show or the prop map where possible, and supplemented by googling "Indiana native trees" and "Indiana historical figures" when necessary. When it comes to state-level geography I've plopped Hawkins more or less on top of Muncie because it's just easier to drop a pin in a real location and get google maps to spit out how long it would take to drive to Cincinnati, or whatever. Also, the S3 prop map has a little dot giving an approximate location in the state of Indiana that more or less lines up with where Muncie is and the throwaway WJRB 9 news report at the end of S4E9 where they say “the quaint town of Hawkins, 80 miles outside of Indianapolis.”

If this all seems like a lot of work: I don't know what to tell you. It feels necessary to my process? Like, you should see the spreadsheets. I have one that's just a list of all the tertiary characters that've appeared in my stories, with notes on whether they're canon (or canon-based) or full-on OCs, their approximate age, which stories they've appeared in, first or last names I've assigned canon characters that don't have them, relationships with other characters and any other relevant details. I have another one that's got a sheet with the timeline of TBHJB complete with which day of the week it is and notes on what happened when, and a separate sheet with a rough shift schedule for Family Video spanning several weeks. I honestly don't know that I could write anything at all without using these documents.

If you read this far: Wow, really? Thanks for reading 💀

*Corroded Coffin is a high school band, why on earth would they have a weekly standing gig? They don't even draw a crowd! The bar has zero incentive to let them keep playing!

#The Beat Has Just Begun #TBHJB #my work

[lasair-0420]

IT COULD NEVER BE

In a quaint little town nestled between rolling hills and whispering forests, there were two best friends named Emily and Jake. From the moment they met in kindergarten, they were inseparable. They shared everything: secrets, dreams, and countless adventures.

As they grew older, their bond only strengthened. They spent lazy summer afternoons by the river, watching the clouds drift by, and chilly winter evenings huddled around a crackling fire, sharing stories and laughter. Their friendship seemed unbreakable, like an unyielding oak tree standing tall against the winds of time.

Yet, there was a bittersweet undercurrent to their closeness. Deep down, they both harbored feelings for each other that went beyond friendship. But fate, in its mysterious ways, had other plans.

Emily's family had moved to the town when she was just a child, and as she grew older, she discovered a hidden truth about her lineage. She was a descendant of a long line of witches, bound by an ancient pact that forbade her from being with anyone outside her kind.

Jake, on the other hand, was an ordinary human with no magical lineage to speak of. Despite their love for each other, the laws of their worlds forbade them from being together.

As they entered their teenage years, the weight of their forbidden love began to bear down on them. Emily would spend nights poring over ancient tomes, searching for a loophole in the ancient pact, while Jake would wander the forests, lost in thought, searching for a way to defy destiny.

But try as they might, the barrier between their worlds remained unyielding. Their love was like a bird with clipped wings, destined to remain grounded.

One crisp autumn evening, as the leaves danced in the wind and the moon cast its silvery glow upon the earth, Emily and Jake sat by the river, their hearts heavy with longing.

"I wish things could be different," Emily whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of the leaves.

"Me too," Jake replied, his eyes reflecting the shimmering moonlight.

And in that moment, they shared a bittersweet kiss, knowing it could be their last.

As the years passed, Emily and Jake remained friends, their bond enduring despite the distance between them. They found solace in the memories they shared, in the laughter that echoed through the corridors of time.

And though they could never be together in the way they longed for, they found comfort in the knowledge that their love, though forbidden, was eternal. For even in a world governed by rules and laws, some bonds were simply too strong to be broken.

#childhood best friends to lovers #short story #couple #secret relationship #love

[taramariewords]

Whispers from Beyond

In the quaint town of Ravenscroft, nestled between mist-covered hills and ancient oaks, a dilapidated mansion stood as a testament to time. Locals spoke in hushed tones of the ghost that haunted the once-grand estate, its spectral presence a mystery veiled in the whispers of the wind.

As twilight descended, casting elongated shadows across the overgrown garden, Emma, a curious teenager, dared her friends to venture into the abandoned mansion. Legends of the ghostly inhabitant fueled their excitement, and the thrill of the unknown lured them through creaking doors and echoing corridors.

Within the mansion's decaying walls, the air grew thick with tension as the group explored forgotten rooms and forgotten tales. In the heart of the manor, they discovered an old, dust-laden piano, untouched by the hands of the living for decades.

As Emma hesitantly brushed her fingers over the keys, a chilling melody echoed through the desolate mansion. Whispers from beyond guided her hands, playing a haunting tune that resonated with both sorrow and longing. The ghost, a forlorn soul named Eleanor, revealed herself in ethereal beauty, her presence a flickering light in the darkness.

Eleanor's story unfolded, a tragic tale of love lost and promises unfulfilled. Bound to the mansion by the weight of her unfinished business, she implored Emma and her friends for help in completing a final, poignant gesture—a letter of love left unsent.

United by empathy, the group gathered in the moonlit parlour, penning words that bridged the gap between the living and the spectral. As the last line of the letter touched the paper, a gentle breeze swept through the room, carrying with it a sense of peace. Eleanor's ghost, her mournful visage now serene, vanished into the whispers from beyond, finding solace in the completion of her eternal tale.

As dawn painted the sky, the mansion stood silent, its secrets entwined with the threads of the living and the departed. Emma and her friends left Ravenscroft, forever changed by their encounter with a ghost who, through music and words, found release from the shackles of a haunted past. The once-desolate mansion now held the echo of a love story, whispered through time, a testament to the transformative power of understanding and compassion.

[aondaneedles]

Settled on the side of Wright Mountain, Oak Hill is little more than a hamlet you may drive through if you accidentally got off the Interstate too early, but for the people who live there, it’s home. For years, rumors of a secret pack of werewolves have been spread around the area, and many locals are sceptic of the Sims that live there. A suspicious string of deaths over the past 15 years only added to the suspicion of the townspeople. However, if you look past the surface, you will find a town that deeply cares about each other and the future of their little community.

It's time for some storytelling!

When I originally created Oak Hill, I wanted to do introduction posts just like I did with Sedona, but life happened. Anyway, I still tried to come back to it and chiselled away at it from time to time. And I've finally finished something. So here we go.

A brief refresher on the families that live in Oak Hill below:

Asia and Erica met in a group home in the city and became fast friends. When Asia decided to move back to her birth town to solve the mystery of her mother’s death, Erica, without real prospects in the city, moved in with her. Will Asia ever get the answers she so desperately seeks for?

The Simms have recently taken in their troubled niece, Kayla, after her widowed father proved unable to care for her. Between two teenagers and Bonnie putting in long hours at the salon, patience is stretching incredibly thin at the Simms residence.

Following the death of their parents, the Khan siblings moved in with their grandmother. Mariam’s got her hands full with the lot of them: Isaac has become a hedonist after the death of his parents, while the twins’ obsession with death has been worrisome, to say the least. And Farrah… Farrah’s talents might put her on a collision course with danger.

When Stephanie helped Cynthia furnish her post-divorce apartment, sparks flew, and Cynthia was able to make the town’s recluse come out of her shell after almost fifteen years. With Cynthia fighting tooth and nail against her ex-husband in the upcoming election, and Stephanie wondering if she is on the right side, the couple is in for a troublesome time.

Frank McCoy has always been an oddity around town, preferring plants over people. Meanwhile, his sons are wreaking havoc around town, with Jack romancing every available woman in town, while Andy’s eccentric inventions are responsible for quite a few hospitalizations. Will Frank be able to regain control over not only his sons but also the monster he created so many years ago? Or will he have to make way for the next generation?

Everyone knows Keith and his faithful dog Pepper around town. So, when Keith lost his job, his house and his daughter following the death of his wife, it was only natural for the McCoys to let him live in their groundskeeper’s cottage. Only time will tell if he’ll be able to get his life back on track though…

Richard Townsend is the big man around town and has big plans for Oak Hill. He’d stop at almost nothing to make his plans come true, but his son’s romantic exploits might put a damper on his chances to win the upcoming election.

#sims #sims 2 #oak hill gameplay #asia hall #erica rojas #beans the cat #chop suey the cat #bonnie simms #matthew simms #brooke simms #kayla locklear #mariam khan #isaac khan #farrah khan #dina khan #dalia khan #stephanie chao #cynthia townsend #andy mccoy #jack mccoy #frank mccoy #romeo the dog #keith locklear #pepper the dog #joshua townsend #hunter townsend #amber townsend #richard townsend #porter the dog #nightshade the cat

[itsshewritesaboutit]

WOUNDED HEALER

By: Shekka Reem Belano

PROLOGUE

In the quiet shadows of a world filled with hushed whispers and veiled mysteries, Lucy emerged as a peculiar figure. Much like the girl version of Lucifer, her uncanny ability to uncover the secrets of others set her apart. Lucy had an extraordinary gift – she could delve into the depths of your soul, unraveling your deepest desires, fears, and problems, absorbing every piece of it. However, hidden beneath her perceptive gaze, an unnoticed truth lingered – Lucy grappled with her own struggles. Despite being there for everyone, who would be there for her?

CHAPTER 1: Veiled Whispers

The small town of Eldritch Grove, nestled between ancient woods and rolling hills, was an ideal setting for Lucy's peculiar talents. With its cobblestone streets and centuries-old buildings, the town seemed to be stuck in a perpetual dance between the past and the present. Eldritch Grove was known for its enigmatic history, whispered about in hushed tones by the townsfolk. Legends of hidden treasures, long-forgotten rituals, and spectral figures adorned the town's folklore, creating an atmosphere tinged with both fascination and fear.

Lucy, a seventeen-year-old with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes, moved through the town like a ghost in the moonlight. Her steps were silent, her presence almost ethereal. Eldritch Grove was blissfully unaware of the young girl who could unravel the mysteries that lurked within its very fabric.

Lucy's gift manifested early in her childhood, as whispers and secrets echoed in the corridors of her mind. She became the town's silent confidante, the keeper of clandestine tales that would otherwise have faded into obscurity. Yet, behind her mask of quiet confidence, Lucy bore the weight of her own undisclosed struggles.

Her parents, oblivious to the depths of Lucy's extraordinary abilities, saw her as a loving daughter with an uncanny intuition. Lucy, however, found solace in her clandestine excursions into the hidden recesses of others' minds, as if she sought refuge in the labyrinth of their emotions to escape her own.

As Lucy navigated the intricate tapestry of Eldritch Grove, she encountered a myriad of characters, each with their own secrets waiting to be unearthed. From the reclusive librarian who harbored a forbidden love to the mayor concealing a dark pact with unknown entities, Lucy's gift made her privy to the town's most concealed truths.

Despite her unique abilities, Lucy struggled to connect with her peers. The weight of others' secrets burdened her shoulders, and the invisible barrier between her and the rest of the world seemed insurmountable. Loneliness became her constant companion, a shadow that clung to her even in the brightest of moments.

One chilly evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across Eldritch Grove, Lucy found herself standing by the ancient oak tree in the town square. The whispers of the townsfolk swirled around her like the autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze. As she stared into the twilight, Lucy couldn't help but wonder who would unravel her own secrets, who would be there for her when the veiled mysteries of her own soul threatened to consume her.

The stage was set, and the quiet town of Eldritch Grove held its breath, unaware that within its heartbeat the enigma named Lucy, a girl whose ability to uncover the secrets of others would soon lead her on a journey to unravel the mysteries hidden within herself.

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past

In the days that followed Lucy's contemplative evening by the ancient oak tree, Eldritch Grove seemed to stir with a restlessness that mirrored the turbulent thoughts within Lucy's mind. The town, with its quiet façade, harbored a collective unease as if the very air whispered secrets only Lucy could comprehend.

As Lucy walked through the cobblestone streets, the whispers of the townsfolk intensified, becoming a cacophony of fragmented thoughts and emotions. Eldritch Grove was restless, and Lucy felt an invisible force tugging at her, urging her to delve deeper into the hidden currents of the town's collective consciousness.

Lucy's journey led her to the Eldritch Manor, a sprawling estate that stood at the outskirts of town, surrounded by ancient woods and shrouded in an aura of mystery. The manor, with its ivy-covered walls and timeworn spires, seemed to be a relic from a bygone era. Legends whispered of the Eldritch family, whose origins were as murky as the shadows that clung to the estate.

As Lucy approached the wrought-iron gates of Eldritch Manor, she felt a surge of energy coursing through her veins, as if the very air held a secret waiting to be unraveled. The townsfolk had long been curious about the Eldritch family, and Lucy's gift would now be put to the test in uncovering the enigma that surrounded them.

The manor's grand entrance creaked open, revealing a dimly lit corridor adorned with portraits of stern-faced Eldritch ancestors. Lucy moved through the shadows, her senses tingling with anticipation. She sensed not only the presence of the living but also the lingering echoes of the past that reverberated within the manor's walls.

As Lucy explored the labyrinthine halls, she stumbled upon a forgotten chamber concealed behind a hidden door. Dust danced in the dim light, revealing an array of artifacts and dusty tomes that hinted at a legacy buried in the annals of time. It was here that Lucy's gift resonated most strongly, as if the very essence of the Eldritch family's secrets lay dormant, waiting to be awakened.

Among the artifacts, Lucy discovered a worn journal bearing the name "Eleanor Eldritch." Intrigued, she delicately turned the pages, revealing the musings of a woman who seemed to share a similar gift. Eleanor spoke of the town's mysteries, her own struggles, and the burden of carrying the secrets of Eldritch Grove. The journal echoed with a haunting familiarity, mirroring Lucy's own experiences.

In the shadows of that forgotten chamber, Lucy felt a connection with Eleanor, a kindred spirit from the past. As she read the words penned by an ancestor who had long faded into obscurity, Lucy realized that she was not alone in her journey. The echoes of Eleanor's voice whispered through the pages, offering solace to Lucy's restless soul.

Armed with newfound knowledge and a sense of purpose, Lucy emerged from Eldritch Manor with a determination to unravel not only the town's secrets but also the mysteries of her own existence. The journey had just begun, and Eldritch Grove held the promise of revelations that would reshape Lucy's understanding of herself and the enigmatic town she called home.

Chapter 3: The Dance of Shadows

In the wake of Lucy's revelations within Eldritch Manor, the town of Eldritch Grove continued its enigmatic dance between reality and myth. The whispers that once fluttered through the air now seemed to gather momentum, swirling around Lucy like a tempest of secrets yearning to be unveiled.

Haunted by the echoes of Eleanor Eldritch's journal, Lucy's quest for understanding led her deeper into the heart of the town's hidden enclaves. Eldritch Grove, once a serene haven, now revealed itself as a tapestry of veiled narratives, waiting to be unraveled.

The town square, where Lucy once sought refuge by the ancient oak tree, became a focal point for her exploration. As dusk settled, the shadows elongated and seemed to take on a life of their own. Lucy stood in the center of the square, feeling the pulse of Eldritch Grove beneath her feet. A subtle energy resonated from the cobblestones, urging her to continue her journey.

With a sense of purpose, Lucy followed the trail of whispers to the forgotten part of the town, where dilapidated buildings stood as silent witnesses to the passage of time. The townsfolk avoided these crumbling structures, believing them to be cursed remnants of a darker era.

Among the ruins, Lucy discovered an ancient chapel, its weathered spire reaching towards the heavens. The chapel's door creaked open with reluctance, revealing an interior bathed in a soft, ethereal light. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls adorned with faded frescoes.

As Lucy stepped into the chapel, the whispers intensified. The echoes of prayers and long-forgotten hymns reverberated within the sacred space. It was here that Lucy encountered a mysterious figure, a cloaked silhouette standing at the altar.

The figure turned to face Lucy, revealing eyes that held the same green intensity as her own. A sense of recognition passed between them, and Lucy felt the weight of centuries of secrets encapsulated in that moment.

"I've been waiting for you," the figure spoke, their voice a haunting echo that seemed to transcend time.

The cloaked stranger introduced themselves as Gabriel Eldritch, a descendant of the same lineage that had woven its secrets into the very fabric of Eldritch Grove. Gabriel, like Lucy, bore the burden of a gift passed down through generations – the ability to commune with the shadows, to dance with the whispers of the past.

As Lucy and Gabriel exchanged stories, they uncovered the shared destiny that bound their fates together. The chapel, once a sanctuary for the Eldritch family, held the key to unlocking the town's deepest mysteries. Together, they vowed to delve into the shadows, to confront the forgotten secrets that lurked within the tapestry of Eldritch Grove.

The dance of shadows had just begun, and Lucy found an unexpected ally in Gabriel. As they embraced their intertwined destinies, the town quivered with anticipation, unaware of the revelations that awaited in the embrace of the veiled mysteries yet to be unveiled.

Chapter 4: Whispers of Betrayal

The collaboration between Lucy and Gabriel unfolded like a delicate dance of shadows, their shared journey binding them to the enigmatic tapestry of Eldritch Grove. As they navigated the town's mysteries together, a sense of purpose fueled their every step.

The cloaked chapel became their headquarters, a nexus where the echoes of the past guided their exploration. Lucy and Gabriel pored over ancient texts and deciphered cryptic symbols, their connection to the town's secrets growing stronger with each passing day.

Yet, amid the camaraderie, whispers of betrayal began to stir. Eldritch Grove, it seemed, held secrets within secrets, and not all shadows were allies. Lucy's gift, once a source of solace, now revealed a darker truth – the tendrils of deception intertwined with the very fabric of the town.

One evening, as the moon cast an eerie glow over Eldritch Grove, Lucy and Gabriel uncovered a hidden chamber beneath the chapel. The walls were adorned with murals depicting a clandestine pact that bound the Eldritch family to a mysterious force. Symbols of power and sacrifice adorned the ancient murals, leaving Lucy and Gabriel to grapple with the realization that their ancestors had walked a perilous path.

As the weight of revelation settled upon them, a chilling wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing the candles that flickered in the dim light. Shadows danced on the walls, revealing a figure lurking in the darkness. A silhouette emerged – a figure cloaked in darkness, yet with eyes that gleamed with an unsettling familiarity.

The figure revealed themselves to be Abigail Eldritch, a long-lost relative who had been erased from the family's history. Abigail, it seemed, had embraced the shadows in a different way, walking a path of forbidden knowledge and wielding a gift far darker than Lucy's or Gabriel's.

Her voice, laced with bitterness, echoed through the hidden chamber. "You think you can unravel the secrets of Eldritch Grove without consequences? The shadows have long memories, and betrayal is etched into the very essence of our family."

Abigail's revelations shook Lucy and Gabriel to their core. The pact that bound the Eldritch family to the mysterious force demanded a sacrifice – a soul to feed the insatiable hunger of the shadows. Eldritch Grove, it seemed, thrived on the power of secrets and the pain of those who sought to uncover them.

As the echoes of Abigail's warning lingered in the air, Lucy and Gabriel faced a choice that would define their destinies. The town's mysteries, once a source of fascination, now took on a sinister hue. In the dance of shadows, trust wavered, and the tendrils of betrayal tightened their grip, threatening to unravel not only the secrets of Eldritch Grove but also the very fabric of Lucy and Gabriel's newfound alliance.

Chapter 5: Veil of Shadows

The revelation of the Eldritch family's dark pact hung in the air, casting a pall over Lucy and Gabriel's once-united purpose. The cloaked chapel, once a sanctuary, felt tainted with the shadows of betrayal, and the whispers that surrounded them became more insidious, murmuring of consequences that rippled through generations.

Lucy and Gabriel, standing at the precipice of an unfathomable truth, grappled with the weight of their choices. The specter of Abigail Eldritch lingered, her eyes a reflection of the tormented legacy that bound them to Eldritch Grove. As they faced the daunting prospect of unraveling a pact forged in secrecy, the town's enigmatic dance took on a more ominous tempo.

Together, Lucy and Gabriel embarked on a quest to decipher the symbols and rituals intricately woven into the murals of the hidden chamber. Each revelation unveiled layers of the Eldritch family's complex history, exposing the roots of the shadows that lurked in the corners of Eldritch Grove.

The town, unaware of the turmoil within its core, continued its daily routine. But the air felt charged with an unseen energy, as if Eldritch Grove itself sensed the impending reckoning. Lucy, with her ability to delve into the shadows, began to discern a subtle shift in the very essence of the town.

As the duo delved deeper, a rift emerged between Lucy and Gabriel. The shadows, once their ally, now seemed to respond differently to each of them. Lucy, fueled by a desire for redemption, sought to break the cycle of sacrifice and betrayal that had plagued the Eldritch family for centuries. Gabriel, torn between loyalty to family and the newfound bond with Lucy, grappled with the realization that the shadows might demand a price they were unwilling to pay.

The veiled mysteries of Eldritch Grove intertwined with the personal struggles of Lucy and Gabriel, creating a tension that mirrored the delicate dance between light and darkness. The once-clear boundaries blurred, and the line between ally and adversary became increasingly uncertain.

In the heart of Eldritch Manor, Lucy uncovered an ancient grimoire that detailed a ritual capable of severing the ties to the shadows. With hope flickering like a candle in the wind, Lucy and Gabriel faced a daunting decision – to confront the shadows head-on and risk the wrath of Eldritch Grove, or to succumb to the fate predetermined by the Eldritch family's dark legacy.

The town, oblivious to the turmoil beneath its surface, awaited the unfolding of a destiny shaped by secrets, shadows, and the choices of those who dared to challenge the veiled mysteries that bound Eldritch Grove in an eternal dance of light and darkness.

Chapter 6: The Ritual's Embrace

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over Eldritch Grove as Lucy and Gabriel prepared to enact the ancient ritual. In the shadowed embrace of Eldritch Manor, the air crackled with a palpable tension, mirroring the uncertainty that gripped the hearts of the two protagonists.

With the grimoire open before them, Lucy and Gabriel began to trace intricate symbols on the chapel floor. Candles flickered, and the ancient symbols seemed to come alive, pulsating with a subtle energy. The very air resonated with the whispers of the town, as if Eldritch Grove itself observed the unfolding of their audacious endeavor.

As the ritual progressed, Lucy's green eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, and Gabriel's cloaked figure seemed to merge with the shadows that clung to the chapel walls. The ceremony demanded not only their dedication but also a profound understanding of the shadows that had intertwined their destinies.

In the midst of the ritual, the boundaries between the seen and unseen blurred. Eldritch Grove responded to the disruption in its carefully woven tapestry, sending ripples through the very fabric of the town's essence. The whispers that surrounded them intensified, murmuring of an ancient force awakening to reclaim what had been bound for centuries.

Lucy, with an unwavering determination, channeled her gift into the ritual. The shadows swirled around her, responding to the call of one who dared to challenge the town's dark legacy. Gabriel, torn between loyalty to family and the newfound alliance with Lucy, grappled with the conflicting forces that sought to either embrace or resist the ritual's transformative power.

As the ritual neared its climax, Eldritch Grove seemed to hold its breath. The very walls of the chapel seemed to vibrate with an unseen energy. In the final moments, Lucy and Gabriel felt a surge of power enveloping them, as if the shadows themselves were making a choice – to release the town from its shackles or to tighten their grip.

Then, in a moment of profound stillness, the ritual reached its zenith.

The air, heavy with anticipation, hung in suspense. Lucy and Gabriel, now standing at the nexus of their destiny, felt a profound shift in the town's aura. The shadows recoiled and then, with an echoing sigh, seemed to relent. Eldritch Grove, for the first time in centuries, resonated with a newfound harmony.

As the ritual's echoes faded, Lucy and Gabriel exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. Eldritch Grove, once steeped in secrets and shadows, now stood on the precipice of change. The dance between light and darkness had found a fragile equilibrium, and the town, as if awakening from a long slumber, awaited the dawn of a new era.

Yet, unknown to Lucy and Gabriel, the veiled mysteries of Eldritch Grove held a final revelation – a whisper that lingered on the edge of perception, hinting at a force far older and more profound than the shadows they had dared to challenge. The town, now in the quiet aftermath of the ritual, braced itself for the unfolding of a destiny that remained shrouded in the enigma of Eldritch Grove.

Chapter 7: Echoes of Redemption

In the aftermath of the ritual, Eldritch Grove bathed in an eerie calmness. The once-whispering winds now carried a sense of serenity that permeated the cobblestone streets. The shadows, once a spectral dance of secrets, seemed to retreat, leaving behind a town that embraced a newfound balance between light and darkness.

Lucy and Gabriel, standing in the quiet chapel, felt the weight of the town's history lift from their shoulders. The grimoire, its pages now devoid of the ancient symbols, lay closed as a testament to their audacious endeavor. The enigma that had gripped Eldritch Grove for centuries had loosened its hold, and the duo couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment mingled with relief.

However, as Lucy's gaze wandered through the chapel's dimly lit interior, a lingering unease tugged at the edges of her consciousness. Eldritch Grove, despite its newfound tranquility, held secrets that transcended the shadows. The whispers, now softened to a gentle hum, hinted at an ancient force that still lingered within the town's essence.

As Lucy and Gabriel ventured back into the heart of Eldritch Grove, the townsfolk noticed a subtle shift in the air. The once-wary glances now held a trace of curiosity, as if the collective memory of the town had been rewritten in the wake of the ritual. Lucy, with her gift still intact, sensed the unspoken questions that lingered in the minds of those who had long lived in the shadow of Eldritch Grove's mysteries.

The duo found themselves at the ancient oak tree in the town square, the same spot where Lucy had once sought solace. The whispers, though quieter, seemed to converge here, as if the tree itself held the memories of the town within its gnarled branches.

As Lucy touched the bark, a surge of insight flooded her senses. Eldritch Grove, she realized, was not merely a town with secrets; it was a living entity, an amalgamation of the memories, desires, and fears of generations. The shadows that had once veiled the town were now woven into its very fabric, shaping its destiny in ways both seen and unseen.

In the days that followed, Lucy and Gabriel became the guardians of Eldritch Grove's delicate balance. The town, no longer a prisoner to its own mysteries, flourished in the newfound harmony between its past and present. Lucy, with her ability to perceive the echoes of the town's collective soul, became a silent guide, helping the townsfolk navigate the uncharted terrain of a redefined destiny.

As Eldritch Grove embraced a future free from the shackles of its enigmatic past, Lucy and Gabriel stood at the crossroads of their own destinies. The dance between light and darkness, once tumultuous, had found equilibrium, and the duo found themselves at the center of a tale that would echo through the annals of Eldritch Grove for generations to come.

The town, now basking in the echoes of redemption, awaited the unfolding of a new chapter – a chapter where the veiled mysteries of Eldritch Grove would be remembered not as a burden, but as a testament to the resilience of those who dared to challenge the shadows and, in doing so, discovered the true essence of their own souls.

Chapter 8: Shadows Resurfaced

In the wake of Eldritch Grove's transformation, a deceptive calm settled over the town. Lucy and Gabriel, now revered as saviors, continued to guide the townsfolk through the delicate balance between light and shadow. Yet, as the seasons changed, and the leaves on the ancient oak tree rustled in the wind, an unsettling undercurrent hinted at a lingering presence beneath the veneer of tranquility.

One evening, a mysterious mist enveloped Eldritch Grove, cloaking its narrow streets and timeworn buildings. The air grew thick with a tension that echoed the town's troubled past. Lucy, ever attuned to the subtle shifts in the atmosphere, sensed the shadows stirring once again.

The townsfolk, lulled into a false sense of security, began to experience unsettling visions – glimpses of forgotten faces and echoes of long-buried secrets. Eldritch Grove, it seemed, refused to relinquish its enigmatic nature, and the very fabric of the town shivered with an ancient force reawakening.

Lucy, troubled by the resurgence of shadows, sought answers within the cloaked chapel. As she delved into the grimoire once again, the symbols that had vanished after the ritual revealed themselves anew. The shadows, though subdued, retained an undeniable presence, whispering of an entity far older and more formidable than the town's troubled history suggested.

Gabriel, too, felt the unsettling energy weaving through the air. The alliance forged in the aftermath of the ritual faced its first true test as the shadows, once seemingly pacified, threatened to unravel the fragile equilibrium. The murmurs of betrayal and sacrifice, once confined to the Eldritch family, now echoed through the town with a sinister resonance.

Together, Lucy and Gabriel confronted the ancient force that lingered in the shadows, threatening to plunge Eldritch Grove into darkness once more. The cloaked chapel, now a nexus of both salvation and peril, became the focal point of their investigation. Symbols glowed ominously on the chapel walls, revealing a message that spoke of an impending reckoning.

As they deciphered the cryptic warnings, Lucy and Gabriel realized that the ritual had merely suppressed the shadows, not eradicated them. Eldritch Grove, it seemed, harbored an ancient entity that transcended the town's mortal coil – a force that demanded acknowledgment and appeasement.

The duo, burdened by the weight of their shared destiny, stood at the threshold of a new chapter in Eldritch Grove's tale. The shadows, once tamed, had resurfaced, and the dance between light and darkness took on a more treacherous tempo. As the mist thickened and the ancient oak tree bore witness, Lucy and Gabriel braced themselves for a confrontation with an adversary that had long remained veiled in the depths of Eldritch Grove's mysteries.

Chapter 9: Unveiling the Entity

Eldritch Grove stood on the precipice of another enigmatic chapter, the mist shrouding its cobblestone streets as a harbinger of uncertainty. Lucy and Gabriel, facing the resurgence of shadows, ventured deeper into the heart of the town's secrets. The cloaked chapel, once a symbol of their triumph, now beckoned them with an ominous allure.

The whispers in the mist hinted at an ancient entity, its presence woven into the very fabric of Eldritch Grove. Lucy's green eyes, flickering with a mixture of determination and concern, met Gabriel's gaze as they approached the chapel. The air hummed with an unseen energy, and the symbols on the chapel walls glowed with an intensity that betrayed a force eager to make itself known.

With each step into the cloaked chapel, the air grew heavier, laden with the weight of centuries-old secrets. Lucy and Gabriel, armed with the knowledge of their ancestors' ritual, sought to confront the entity that had eluded their understanding. The shadows clung to the walls, swirling with a malevolence that spoke of an intelligence beyond mortal comprehension.

As they reached the heart of the chapel, an ancient altar bathed in an eerie light awaited them. Symbols etched into the stone seemed to writhe with a life of their own, resonating with the pulse of the town's ancient force. Lucy, guided by her uncanny intuition, traced the symbols with a steady hand, and the air crackled with a latent power that hinted at a spectral presence about to materialize.

Suddenly, the mist within the chapel coalesced into a shadowy figure, its form shifting and undulating. The entity emerged, a manifestation of Eldritch Grove's forgotten past and the echoes of a power that transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm.

"I am the Keeper of Shadows," the entity spoke, its voice a haunting echo that reverberated through the chapel. "You sought to suppress me, but shadows cannot be vanquished. They are the essence of existence, the dance between light and darkness."

The Keeper of Shadows revealed a tale woven through the annals of Eldritch Grove – an ancient force bound to the town, a testament to the choices and sacrifices made by generations. The ritual Lucy and Gabriel had enacted was not a solution but a temporary reprieve, and the entity now demanded acknowledgment and understanding.

Lucy, grappling with the weight of her gift and the responsibility it imposed, listened intently. The Keeper of Shadows spoke of a delicate balance between revelation and concealment, and Eldritch Grove, it seemed, was an entity that yearned to be seen, to have its secrets acknowledged rather than suppressed.

As the mist thickened, Lucy and Gabriel faced a choice – to embrace the entity and the shadows woven into the town's identity or to resist, risking the wrath of a force far beyond their mortal comprehension. The cloaked chapel, once a haven of redemption, now became the stage for a pivotal moment in Eldritch Grove's enduring saga, where Lucy and Gabriel stood at the intersection of the town's ancient destiny and the shadows that clung to its very soul.

Chapter 10: Embrace of Shadows

The chapel, bathed in an otherworldly glow, held its breath as Lucy and Gabriel confronted the Keeper of Shadows. The entity, a manifestation of Eldritch Grove's ancient force, seemed to pulse with a spectral energy that permeated the very air around them.

As the mist continued to thicken, Lucy and Gabriel exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. The Keeper of Shadows, though an enigmatic entity, appeared to yearn for acknowledgment rather than resistance. Lucy, guided by her gift, extended a hand towards the pulsating shadows, embracing the force that had long been intertwined with the town's destiny.

The mist, once an ominous shroud, now wrapped around Lucy like a protective cocoon. The symbols on the chapel walls glowed with a renewed vibrancy, as if the very fabric of Eldritch Grove responded to the acceptance of its ancient entity. The town, in that ethereal moment, seemed to exhale, releasing the tension that had lingered for centuries.

Gabriel, though initially hesitant, followed Lucy's lead. The shadows, once perceived as adversaries, now intertwined with their forms, a dance of unity between the mortal and the spectral. The Keeper of Shadows, in a voice that echoed with a mixture of relief and gratitude, spoke of a harmony between revelation and concealment, between light and darkness.

Eldritch Grove, once burdened by secrets, now basked in a newfound understanding. The mist dissipated, revealing the transformed chapel and the intertwined figures of Lucy and Gabriel, now agents of unity rather than division. The town's essence resonated with a subtle serenity, as if the shadows themselves had found solace in the acknowledgment of their existence.

The townsfolk, unaware of the ethereal encounter within the cloaked chapel, felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The whispers that once hinted at buried secrets now carried a gentle breeze of acceptance. Eldritch Grove, it seemed, had found equilibrium in the delicate dance between revelation and obscurity.

Lucy and Gabriel emerged from the chapel, their connection with the Keeper of Shadows etched into the very core of their beings. The ancient force, no longer a looming specter, became a guiding presence, woven into the fabric of the town's collective consciousness.

As Eldritch Grove embraced the newfound unity between light and darkness, Lucy and Gabriel took on the role of guardians, ensuring that the delicate balance was preserved for generations to come. The town, now free from the shadows that had once plagued its existence, stood as a testament to the transformative power of acceptance and understanding.

And so, as the mist dispersed and the ancient oak tree stood sentinel in the town square, Eldritch Grove faced a future where its mysteries, no longer veiled in secrecy, became a source of strength and unity. Lucy and Gabriel, now intertwined with the very essence of the town, embarked on a journey to help Eldritch Grove flourish in the harmony of shadows and light.

Epilogue: Whispers in the Wind

Time passed in Eldritch Grove, and the echoes of its enigmatic past lingered like a gentle breeze through the ancient oak tree's branches. Lucy and Gabriel, the guardians of the town's delicate balance, watched over Eldritch Grove with a shared understanding of its mysteries.

The cloaked chapel, once a nexus of shadows and revelations, stood as a testament to the transformative power of acceptance. The symbols etched into its walls remained, but their glow had softened, a silent reminder of the unity forged between the mortal realm and the Keeper of Shadows.

The town, now free from the weight of concealed secrets, thrived in a newfound harmony. The cobblestone streets buzzed with life, and the whispers that once hinted at buried mysteries became tales of resilience and redemption. Eldritch Grove, it seemed, had embraced its destiny as a place where light and darkness coexisted, each enriching the other.

Lucy and Gabriel, their lives forever entwined with the town's essence, continued to guide Eldritch Grove with a sense of purpose. The veiled mysteries that had once defined the town's identity now served as a source of strength, fostering unity among its inhabitants.

As the ancient oak tree rustled in the wind, the whispers that once carried secrets now spoke of a shared history – a tapestry woven with threads of revelation and concealment. Eldritch Grove, once a town steeped in shadows, had become a beacon of understanding, a testament to the resilience of those who dared to confront their own mysteries.

And so, in the quiet moments of Eldritch Grove's enduring saga, the echoes of its past danced in the wind. The town, with Lucy and Gabriel as its stewards, faced a future where the enigmatic dance between light and darkness remained a cherished legacy, whispered through the rustling leaves of the ancient oak tree – a tale of redemption, acceptance, and the eternal embrace of shadows in the wind.

#writings #writing #woundedhealer

[betrayalads]

THE CHALICE CALLS. . .

There is a house up on the hill that nobody lives in. It’s been unoccupied for nearly a century yet despite the cobwebs and ivy, this mansion stands proud as if untouched by time. No one in the small Irish town of Balheath can deny the allure of it. Staring up at its tall black spires and grand oak doors, one can start to imagine themselves with a better life. Perhaps the riches of the previous resident still lie waiting inside. Perhaps there could be a new owner of the grand estate and all its land. Perhaps that could be you. 

But there are warnings and whispers. Some say they hear screams in the night coming from the house on the hill. Those who have gone to investigate the wailing come back shaking and hollow-eyed. They speak of terrifying and impossible visions. The house is haunted, without a doubt. Even a skeptic could see the danger a decrepit mansion could hold. If you are brave enough to climb the iron wrought fence and enter the manor you may find fortune, but something else may find you first.

WILL YOU ANSWER ?

BETRAYALHQ is a small skeleton rp based on Betrayal: House on the Hill Legacy. This rp follows six families for six generations spanning from 1881 to the present day. The rp will involve dice-rolling mechanics and an intensive mystery plot. The rp will explore themes common to gothic literature such as the perseverance of guilt, the way greed robs people of their humanity, and the lengths people will go to survive.

MAIN ✹ ASK  ✹ SKELETONS

#period rp #new rp #oc rp #skeleton rp #horror rp

[thenightlymirror]

Tell me a story about two people who work in a cemetery office.

ChatGPT:

In the quiet town of Willow Grove, nestled amidst rolling hills and ancient oaks, stood the Greenwood Cemetery. At the heart of this serene landscape sat a small, weathered office, where two unlikely companions, Evelyn and Walter, spent their days.

Evelyn was the meticulous one, her silver hair neatly pinned back, with a penchant for organizing every document and ledger in the office. Walter, on the other hand, was a dreamer. His weathered face spoke of countless stories whispered by the gravestones, and his eyes held a depth that mirrored the silent tales of those who rested in the cemetery's embrace.

Their days passed in a rhythmic dance between paperwork and the gentle murmur of their shared stories. Evelyn meticulously maintained the records, ensuring each name found its place, while Walter tended the grounds, his weathered hands planting flowers and clearing pathways.

Despite their differences, they shared a bond forged by solitude and a deep respect for the souls who found their final rest in Greenwood. Each morning, they'd sit by the old oak tree behind the office, sipping steaming mugs of coffee as the sun painted the sky in hues of gold.

Their conversations were as varied as the lives memorialized in the cemetery. Evelyn would share tales of the families who visited, of stories etched in the weathered stones. Walter would recount the secrets whispered by the winds, the untold histories that lingered in the air.

One day, as autumn's amber hues painted the trees, they stumbled upon an old, forgotten ledger. Its pages held faded ink and names long erased by time. Together, they unraveled the mysteries hidden within those pages, piecing together stories of love, loss, and forgotten dreams.

As the years passed, Evelyn and Walter became a fixture in Greenwood Cemetery, their stories woven into the tapestry of those they tended to. They found solace in each other's company, a comfort that surpassed the silent stones and the ever-turning seasons.

Their days in the cemetery office were not merely about paperwork or tending to the grounds; they were a celebration of life's stories, a testament to the human spirit that transcended time and found its eternal resting place among the whispers of history.

[storytimewithnova]

Fated Soulmates through Stars

Plot Summary: In a world where soulmates are determined by a mysterious connection to the same star and atom, Semi and Shona were childhood best friends who shared secrets, dreams, and an unspoken bond that transcended mere friendship. As they grew up, Semi realized he had fallen in love with Shona, but he was always too afraid to confess his feelings. Little did he know that Shona felt the same way.

Their lives took a cruel twist when Shona was diagnosed with a terminal illness, and her days were numbered. As her health deteriorated, Semi couldn't bear to see her suffering and stood by her side, offering unwavering support, despite the pain it caused him. Shona's brothers, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime, also watched helplessly as their beloved sister's life slipped away.

On the day Shona tragically lost her battle to cancer, her last words appeared on Semi's wrist, forever etched in his skin, "I love you My Star." As the grief-stricken family and friends mourned her loss, Semi realized the profound meaning behind these words. They were not just a declaration of affection but a testament to their fated connection, determined by the stars themselves.

Semi's newfound understanding of their soulmate bond brought both solace and sorrow. He had lost the woman he loved, but he had also gained an eternal connection with her, as if the universe itself had conspired to make them soulmates. Shona's brothers, too, found comfort in the knowledge that her love for Semi would live on, even after her passing.

As time passed, Semi, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime shared their memories of Shona and the significance of her last words. They found strength in each other, honoring Shona's memory by cherishing the deep bond they shared. And while Semi could never hold Shona in his arms again, he knew that they would forever be connected by the same star and atom, and that love would transcend the boundaries of time and space.

In a small, quiet town nestled between rolling hills and meadows, Semi and Shona were inseparable from a young age. They shared secrets under the sprawling oak tree near the meadow, where they often lay side by side, gazing up at the endless expanse of stars in the night sky. Their lives were intertwined like constellations, their laughter a melody that resonated through the peaceful town.

As they grew older, Semi's feelings for Shona deepened. Her laughter became the soundtrack of his life, and her smile was the sun that lit up his days. But he kept his affection hidden, for he feared that confessing his love would jeopardize their precious friendship. Little did Semi know that Shona was grappling with the same emotions, her heart torn between the bond of friendship and the whisperings of love.

Their lives took a devastating turn when Shona was diagnosed with a relentless, incurable cancer. The vibrant girl who had once danced under the stars was now confined to a sterile hospital room, her spirit dimmed by the weight of her illness. Semi, overwhelmed by helplessness, stood by her side, his unwavering presence offering a glimmer of hope in her darkest hours.

Shona's brothers, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime, were equally devastated. She was not only Semi's confidante but also the anchor that held their family together after their parents had passed away. Shona was their guiding star, the light that had led them through life's storms. Now, as they watched her frail form, their world crumbled.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Semi watched as the vibrant spark in Shona's eyes slowly dimmed, but he never left her side. The hospital walls absorbed his silent tears, and his heart ached with the knowledge that he could never be the one to make her smile again. Despite her pain, Shona never once complained, her courage an inspiration to everyone who knew her.

The fateful day came when Shona's struggle ended, and her fragile body succumbed to the relentless illness. Her brothers, Semi, and a few close friends gathered in the dimly lit room, saying their final goodbyes. Shona's last breath was a gentle exhale, her face peaceful, as if she had finally found relief from her pain.

As they mourned her loss, Semi's wrist began to tingle, and a sensation of warmth spread across his skin. He looked down to find Shona's last words etching themselves onto his wrist, "I love you My Star." The room was filled with a mix of tears, grief, and awe, for the entire world knew that the last words of a soulmate would appear upon their partner's skin.

For Semi, the words were a bittersweet revelation. He had lost the woman he loved, but in that moment, he realized the profound connection that bound them together. They were not just soulmates; they were two souls created from the same stardust, destined to share an unbreakable bond. The stars themselves had conspired to unite them.

In the aftermath of Shona's passing, Semi, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime clung to each other for comfort. Shona's words served as a beacon of solace, a reminder that her love would forever be a part of their lives. The pain of her absence was immense, but their shared memories and the knowledge that they had been blessed by a cosmic connection brought a unique form of healing.

Semi and Shona's love story, which began under the stars, became an enduring legend in their town. The oak tree by the meadow was no longer just a symbol of their friendship; it was a testament to the power of love that transcended time and space. In the quiet town where they had once laughed and dreamed together, their story lived on, etched into the hearts of those who had been touched by their profound bond.

The passing of time brought with it the ebb and flow of life in their small town. The seasons changed, and life continued its relentless journey forward, but the memory of Shona remained a constant, an ever-present star in their collective sky. Semi, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime leaned on each other in the wake of their loss, finding strength and solace in their shared memories and their unbreakable bond.

Semi's wrist bore the imprint of Shona's final words, "I love you My Star," like a sacred talisman. Those words became more than just ink on his skin; they were a lifeline to his past, a bridge to the woman he had loved and lost. He traced those words with his fingers, as if by doing so, he could reach out to the essence of Shona that still lingered in his heart.

In the quiet moments when the town slept and the world seemed still, Semi would venture to the meadow beneath the starlit sky, just as he had done with Shona. He'd lie on the grass, gazing at the same constellations they had admired together. It was his way of keeping the connection alive, feeling that he was still beside the woman he loved.

As the years passed, Semi found himself focusing on fulfilling the dreams and aspirations they had once shared. He pursued a career in astrophysics, an endeavor born from their shared fascination with the cosmos. His research and discoveries about the stars allowed him to feel closer to Shona, as if they were exploring the universe together, separated by time but forever connected by the same atoms.

Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime, too, found their own paths in life, driven by the memory of their beloved sister. They became pillars of strength in the community, embodying Shona's resilience and compassion. They formed a bond with Semi that went beyond shared grief; they were a family, united by the love and loss of the woman they held dear.

The town, once a witness to their shared laughter and dreams, now celebrated Shona's legacy. They dedicated the oak tree by the meadow to her memory, where a plaque bore her name and the words "My Star." It became a place of solace and remembrance for all who visited, a symbol of love that never truly faded.

As Semi, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime continued their separate journeys, they found solace in the knowledge that their connection to Shona remained eternal. The stars that had watched over their shared moments still twinkled in the night sky, reminding them that love, like the universe, was boundless and infinite. Shona's last words, etched onto Semi's skin, served as a reminder that love could transcend the boundaries of life and death, a testament to the cosmic bond that would endure for all time.

Years turned into decades, and the quiet town witnessed the passage of generations. But the story of Semi and Shona, the star-crossed lovers whose love transcended time, remained etched in the collective memory. The tale of the childhood friends turned soulmates became folklore, whispered by parents to their children as a testament to the enduring power of love.

Semi, now a distinguished astrophysicist, had dedicated his life to understanding the mysteries of the cosmos. He had made significant discoveries, even naming a celestial body "Shona's Star" in honor of the love that had inspired his journey. He often looked up at the night sky, wondering if Shona was watching over him from one of those distant stars.

Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime had each followed their unique paths, yet they remained closely connected, bound by the memories of their sister and the unwavering friendship they had with Semi. They had their own families, and their children grew up hearing the story of Shona and her soulmate, creating a new generation of believers in the enduring power of love.

The oak tree by the meadow had grown tall and strong, its branches reaching out like a protective embrace over the land. The plaque beneath it had weathered with time, but the words "My Star" were still legible, and people often visited to pay their respects. Couples in love would carve their initials into the bark, believing that the tree's connection to Shona and Semi would bring them a lifetime of happiness.

The town had changed in many ways, yet the essence of Shona's legacy remained a constant. Her kindness, her resilience, and the love she had shared with Semi continued to inspire those who knew her story. Each year, a stargazing event was held in the meadow in her memory, a celebration of the stars that had once witnessed the love between two souls.

As Semi grew older, he often reflected on the gift of fate that had made Shona his soulmate. The knowledge that they were created from the same star and atom had brought him pain and comfort in equal measure. His skin bore the enduring proof of their connection, a reminder that even in the vast expanse of the universe, love could be a force strong enough to transcend time and space.

In the end, Semi, Seijiro, Keiji, and Hajime had realized that their story was not just one of heartache and loss, but a testament to the enduring power of love. Shona had not only been their sister, their friend, and their beloved, but also a celestial muse who had guided them through the journey of life.

The story of Semi and Shona remained in the hearts of the people of the quiet town, a tale of love, loss, and the boundless connections that the universe could weave. And every time they looked up at the night sky, they knew that somewhere, among the stars, Semi and Shona's love still shone brightly, a reminder that love could be eternal, even in the face of mortality.

#inspired by the galaxy is endless