◟ ͜ Interested in joining a new fandom    based on the creators OC's? ꒰༐ྀིྀ ´ ᵕ ` ྐ✚꒱ ྀ  ˌ͙‿୨ ͡ ₊ 🎭 Well look no further, because ''Hollows Refuge'' is just that!   ┄ ໒⁀ ᩧຼ Gang, we are so small we can fit in a bus... (5 people....)   𓎢 ∘  We have a lot of depth in our characters, some enemies to ❀ lovers dynamics... BUT.. also there are quite 'gorey' & problematic 　‿　　≻ backstories and situations in the future, so if youre not comfortable -with that, I don't suggest joining...💔 https://discord.gg/W9t3VrX95R ⚖️ ( ♡ . ᴗ𓏼 )

story i wrote while in class :p ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘜𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳—𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘹—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺. 𝘡𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 . 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘢𝘵, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯. 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘈 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘷𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬—𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥,” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. “𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥,” 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳?” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺, “𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.” 𝘈 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘈 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘈 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳— “𝘔𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰.” 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘴. “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬…” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” 𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘺, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬— “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦.” ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ search ( lovelyangel.) for more storues written by me

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📚📚📚📚read, bookᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝄞 ˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ 𐙚 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆✎✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗

📚read, bookᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚☽˚｡⋆˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ 𐙚 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆✎✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

📖🎧

⊹ ࣪ ˖🎧⋆｡˚☕️⋆｡˚

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 𝟏𝟎% ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 𝟐𝟎% █████▒▒▒▒▒ 𝟓𝟎% ███████▒▒▒ 𝟕𝟎% ██████████ 𝟏𝟎𝟎% ‿̩͙‿ ༺ 🤍🖤 ༻ ‿̩͙‿ "𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚎! 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎! ❤️‍🩹" ➛ 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎!: °💤. ➵𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚒𝚊 °💭. ➵𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: 𝚂𝚑𝚎/𝙷𝚎𝚛 °☕️. ➵𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 °♟️. ➵𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖:𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜: ⌔ , ҂ 🎴𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕: 𝙲𝚊𝚝 食 🥛،𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔: 𝙱𝚘𝚋𝚊 蠽 🎞જ ➛𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍: 𝙿𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𑁯໋🎧★𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙: 𝚂𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 ┈┈┈┈․° 🖤🤍 °․┈┈┈┈ ☆. ° 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 🛹 ‧₊˚ ➤𝙸 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 ‧₊˚ 🎀 ‧₊˚ 🏀 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕! ──────────────────────── ➺ ✧˖° 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐪 ♯. ¡ 𖤐 ⛸️ ➠ 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘂 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁? ★ ₊ ⊹ ʚ 🎲 ɞ (𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔) ♯. ¡ 𖤐 🗝 ➠ 𝗱𝗼 𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱? 🔪. ˖* 愛. ♡ ° (𝚈𝚎𝚜) ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ 𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 . 🖇📰🎓 ⚝‧ ₊°𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 💋 ⚝‧ ₊° 💋 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐! (To check out my seires search Mimihugs555) •─────⋅☾ 💌🖤 ☽⋅─────•

books ☕︎☕︎

. ݁₊🎧📖 ⊹ . ݁ 🎀 ݁ . ⊹💌 ₊ ݁.

uhm so this is just a update abt the alina drama or whatever if u dont know her just now that we went from bffls to enemies ;-; as much as i love alina i cant let my feelings get hurt from a singular person! So update about Alina the Cady of friendship when i told her i didnt wanna be friends anymore she was UPSET! This is exactly what she said after "(my name) I'm not falling for that.." Then after me convincing her i wasnt joking she said, "Nooo, I'm sorry I still wanna be friends." "I thought we would be best friends forever, this is just mean honestly" "I didnt do nothing to you idk or r u just mad im making friends" "My life is fricking motionless sometimes I really hoped you would be there for me-- but NOOO OFC :(" I honestly thought she would dox me but instead she just cried and was quiet the entire day. So these are her 2 main new best friends: Kholia, and Bella. Kholia was my appointace and Bella was a mutual friend Alina, Kholia, and Bella, always gave me glares, stink eyes, and ignored me when I talked to them the rest of the year. Kholia, and Bella made others join in too. Luckily i had friends who I could trust and even tho they were on Alina's friends too they were on my side. Eventually this became a rivalry between the entire 4th grade it was like "Alina Vs (my irl name) which side are u on?" Ofc Alina had a lot more ppl on her side bruh, but eventually some of those people were on my side once they heard the story It bought me into a deep anxiety cuz i realized people regularly preferred Alina over this little competition had one unspoken rule NEVER TELL A TEACHER ABT IT! Sooo then 5th grade happend.. But I wont talk abt 5th grade cuz its too long story by exbff >-<

BRO WHO THE FUCK MADE AN INC3ST N0NC0N SMUT FANFIC WITH THEIR OCS ON HERE I WAS JUST TRYING TO FIND A BIO YALL CHILL TF OUT AND KEEP THAT IN UR NOTES 💀😭

ʜᴇʏ ʏᴏᴜ! ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ɪᴄᴇᴍɪɴᴛғʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ғᴇᴀʀ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴ! sʜᴇ's ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏғ sᴛᴜғғ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ sʜᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜᴛᴜʙᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ, sʜᴇ's ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ. ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴛᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ.

`it has been tough these few days. As I see the world crumble around me, only droughts end in my place. Ever since the usurper to the throne had been the assistant, rather shocking. This world.`

🎮˙✧˖°📺 ⋆｡˚📙 𝄞 Media 🎞️

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𓏵 ⋮ ᴍᴏʙ !🥛 ⊹

wattpad bio 4 writers (search fragile bambi for more) 🧁 welcome to my bakery! everything here is soft-baked & slow-written ✎ choose any book to read the menu… each story is a dessert waiting to be tasted. baked with lowercase thoughts, coquette daydreams, and a lil' bit of pink sugar 💌 no stealing recipes or licking the spoon without asking ♡ ୨୧ est. by @ (your username) ୨୧ age | race + race | poetry + gxg stories (change this if u want) ୨୧ i bake in metaphors and frost in feelings ୨୧ no hate in the kitchen or you’ll be blocked with a bow 🎀 MADE BY @laceonpaper ON WATTPAD! REMOVE IF U WANT

It was one of those nights when the sky was so black that it seemed to be sucking in all the light around it, as if even the stars were afraid to shine. The wind howled like a hungry wolf, searching for something to devour. The air was cold and biting, making even the bravest of souls shiver uncontrollably. In the heart of this desolate landscape, a small figure shuffled along, her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders in a futile attempt to ward off the icy chill. She was dressed in tattered rags, her once-white dress now stained and dirty from God knows how long she had been wandering. Her long, dark hair whipped wildly around her face, obscuring it from view. Her name was Lily, but that was all she could remember. She couldn't recall how she had ended up here, or where home was. All she knew was that she had to keep moving, to keep searching, in the hopes that she might find something - someone - who could help her. As she trudged through the desolate landscape, her bare feet aching with every step, she caught a glimpse of a faint light flickering in the distance. Her heart leaped with hope, and she redoubled her efforts to reach it. The light grew brighter as she approached, revealing itself to be a crackling fire, its warmth beckoning to her like a beacon. Lily drew closer, her weary body practically collapsing with relief as the heat enveloped her. Around the fire, she noticed a group of figures, their eyes gleaming with emotionless fury. They were dressed similarly to her mother, their robes embroidered with symbols of prestige and power. As she approached, they parted to make way for her, their expressions shifting from anger to curiosity and then back again. "Who are you?" one of them demanded, her voice cold as ice. "And how did you find your way here?" Lily looked up, meeting the woman's gaze. She was tall and regal, her hair a striking shade of silver that seemed to glow in the firelight. Even though she was old, Lily could sense an aura of power and authority emanating from her. "My name is Lily," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I... I don't remember how I got here. I just keep walking, hoping to find someone who can help me." The leader of the group, an elderly woman with silver hair, cocked her head to the side. There was something about Lily's innocence and vulnerability that struck her as peculiar. Most people who stumbled upon their secretive society were either terrified or angry, but Lily seemed to feel neither emotion. She was simply confused and lost. "Very well, Lily," the elderly woman said, her voice soft and gentle. "You have found your way to us. And now, it is our duty to help you find your way home."🔮

PLEASE CHECK OUT MY WATTPAD STORY CALLED “Illusion of Lies” ITS A OWL HOUSE STORY📖

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Please no d£ath threats to ppl who make fanfic thx and have a nice day

hey its me again, 🪐 saturn anon! i wanted to tell everyone that i will be posting some original stories :) NO SMUT! they're mostly a series of horror stories that will be categorized by an emoji! stay tuned :3 - 🪐 saturn anon

There’s something poetic about screaming before you die. In under-exertion, like a deer caught in the headlights, you fail to get away from your captor, but you cover yourself up nonetheless in useless armor of your own forearms, turning your head away in fear. You think it’ll do something, but in the heat of the moment (or maybe your blood vessels, the hair on your arm standing on its ends) you don’t think it’ll do anything but. There’s probably a policy for how that works. Science. Logic. The iron will of a hand flayed out, all the while the person doing so furrows their brows, the corners of their open mouth wrinkling against their cheek in a crude gesture of dominance. Shame on me for depicting that as something wrong, because I’m doing it right now, right? Subtle, but not subtle at the same time. The gesture of raising your arm, up-up-up into the sky, and lowering your hands clasped together a knife wrapped around it down-down-down into your victim, all the while they yell for their lives, something utterly futile; but poetic too. One of mankind’s elegies in their final death throes, expressing it in the way they know best. Conversing, saying something - opening their mouth, wide, before it closes, and so do your eyes, and your legs altogether, collapsing onto the ground. … Ha. Has winter ever been this cold? Tsugino stared down at the corpse beneath him, his back unable to hitch its owner up by the feet anymore now hunched against a garbage bag. He stared at him — it, or him? His face, so previously full of life the day before at school, chatting with a bunch of his classmates which surrounded him; eyes beady brown, glimmering in the specks of dust splattering from against the classroom window… now marble-like. His face was never this dark before, his bangs casting a shadow downwards his eyelids and into his cheeks. It was never this cold before, either. With his right palm touching the corpse’s cheek, he blew an exhale into it a moment after. There was no use caring for a NO. If they didn’t love him, who’s to say he had to care for their wellbeing in dingy alleyways either? Nobody. Nobody at all. _ … Though, now, he had somebody by his side. Wasn't that enough for him? He didn't know at all. Bleak days of cooking, walking to preparatory school, sauntering back home so as to review his notes, all the while met with a familiar face that greeted him each day — red bangs which curled into a small face, and into sharp eyes the same hue as his hair bounced each time Maeno tilted his head to the side, squinting due to his smiling widely — saying “Oh, Tsugino, you've finished cooking dinner?!” only to scrunch itself up in disgust, realizing he had mixed vegetables in it . . . this was fine, after all. Tsugino had grown accustomed to it. In fact, he delighted in such normality, knowing that for once, he was content with this life. He smiled at the sky, and it smiled back at him. If only it had just stayed the same forever. For some reason, Tsugino couldn't help but turn his head away from Maeno, not in contempt, but neutrality, because he realized something was off with the way he viewed his roommate (friend, former doctor, former handcuffed-by-the-wrist-partner) and he didn't know how to deal with it. He'd had felt these feelings before, but now that he was more, admittedly, mentally stable, the influx of emotions came through into his brain, overriding its insides completely. He didn't know what to do in order to handle these emotions, because he knew what they were; he just didn't want to say them out loud. He knew what it was. It was just at the tip of his tongue, rolling off of his mouth, swirling into his ears and back into his brain, mind’s eye trembling at the thought of it. He knew it was. Each thought he had about Doc intensified by the second, each tick of the clock creaking in a momentary steadying of itself before spinning in circles. His own cheek in his own palm. A pursing of his lips. His elbow holding his face propped onto his studying desk. His eyes inclined to the wooden surface, for it had naught else to focus onto for the time being. Maeno grinning, his teeth crooked into the shape of a feline cat shining through his open mouth. His eyes closed, fluttered, eyelashes barely visible when opened were his eyelids now visible, specks of what seemed to be dust sprinkled about. His red hair, messy, strands coiling themselves back into his scalp because he barely brushed his hair, if ever, even though the braid which dangled through his right bang was neatly kept, moving, turning once he looked at the camera (Tsugino’s imagination) Snap. Maeno’s eyes. They angled upwards, the upper eyelid curving into an arc ever-so-slightly. His pupils were smaller than the average person, the bottom half of his sclera made visible by his irises shaped into an oval, though jouncing to the side each little glance he took at each little precious thing he wanted to focus his attention onto. Snap. Maeno’s eyebrows. They were thin, long. Darker than his hair color. They were expressive. If you were to cover up his entire face, his eyebrows would still be something you could utilize in order to discern what he was feeling. Snap. Each time his collarbones peeked out from under his shirt as he angled his torso towards you. Snap. His fingers, long, scarred. Even though they had bandaids littered about, right onto his knuckles or other more curious locations like the tip of his index finger, they were pretty to look at, veins protruding through the back of his palm as they posed for the camera or as they wrapped themselves around an object. Snap. His skin. Snap. His knees. Snap. His ankles. Snap. His wrists. Snap. His chin. Snap. His cheeks. Snap. His ears. Snap. His back. Snap. His nape. Snap…? His everything? Was it the click of a polaroid camera, slowly lifted down in order for Tsugino to look at his muse in all of his glory, or a metaphor for Tsugino’s desire to eat Maeno whole? Was it his forlorn to reach his hand out to Maeno as he placed his palm onto his, wrapping his fingers around his hand before gently tugging at Maeno’s wrist, afterwards pulling him forward, leaning his chin into his for a kiss, or did he want to sink his teeth into his lips, tearing through it for he lowered it down into his chin, lower and lower into his stomach stained with blood which trailed through the gaping hole in his stomach, crudely shaped into the edge of a knife? Was it about Tsugino's scrutinizing gaze, cold, soft, everything in between, or his desire to kill Aki? It was both. It was two. One. Haru wanted to kill him. He wanted to see him dead. He wanted to see Aki’s guts spill out from outwards his stomach, the tenderness coming with a splurch and ending in a crescendo that was from in-and-out, dipping into the sausage-like organs. He wanted to reel his forearms back into the air, holding a knife in his trembling hands now gripping tighter onto the handle, only to stab Aki in the throat. He wanted to see him in such a position he couldn't help but be killed by him, maybe yelling, or maybe not. Maybe tears running down his cheeks, down the corner of his sharp eyes now squinting, closing in impulse; he wanted to kiss his tears away. He wanted to see its translucence, sempiternal, somewhat vaguely stained with red coming from his stomach, or his throat, or his eye, any part of him. He would accept all of them. He would accept all of them gratefully, kissing them too, or cutting them up into tiny pieces, chewing each in his mouth with a crunch from his left and a crunch from his right, before leaning into his collarbone made visible by the tank-top unfolding to the side, sinking his teeth into his skin, deeper into the flesh, and deeper into the muscle. He would like that. Two Haru loved him. Aki had taught him cruelly the meaning of love, and gently the meaning of love. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Aki’s jaw, before sliding his fingers forward to his chin so as to prop his mouth in front of his, kissing him, the hot air pressing against their faces each breath they took through inside of the mouths, pirouetting, swirling into their humid surroundings as Haru tilted his head to the side so as to lick at Aki’s tongue, swirling it around the base, their salivas mixing together into one - maybe that was the sort of thing he sought out in eating him, because that too was Aki inside of him. … … … … … Tsugino knew what he felt. He was so embarrassed, he had to say it. There was no use running away from it any longer, anyways, because any more and he'd have been lying to himself. He had a crush on Doc. Maeno Aki.

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If you like the 100 or Bellamy Blake, go read “Stubborn” by “-petrovaxx” on wattpad! 🪓