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That was all Cassidy had known for 20 years. The last time she'd closed her eyes was in the 1900s, mostly because her family was Native and had been forced out of the land she'd once called home. She couldn't go with them, so the state executed her and buried her in a mass grave alongside others who were disabled or elderly.
She would've been content with that, too.
If it weren't for another one of them who woke her up.
---
10:30 PM
Gasp!
"Oh, thank goodness it worked!" a voice said from above.
Cassidy looked down at herself, then up again, realizing that her body was regenerating.
"Oh no no no no no—" She grabbed her head, trying to wake herself up or pull herself out of this nightmare.
"Hey, hey, no—we aren't doing that." A lady with snow-pale skin descended toward her and hugged her.
Cassidy, thoroughly weirded out, tried to push her away. "The wood would burn you if you touched it, but—"
The lady produced a suspicious piece of red meat in her hand, and for some reason, it looked incredible to Cassidy. She started drooling like a puppy. The lady noticed.
"Nuh-uh," the lady said, raising the meat above her head. "I need you for a mission first."
Cassidy shook her head. "What do you mean?"
The lady motioned for her to move. "Well, obviously not here." She leaned closer to Cassidy's ear. "Someone's watching," she whispered.
Cassidy started to go limp. "Oh jeez," the lady muttered.
But then—
Cassidy launched herself out of the hole with immense strength and somehow, a keener sense of smell. She located the perpetrator who'd been watching. Her teeth elongated like snake fangs, and her body stretched unnaturally as she lunged to catch him and—
Eat him.
But before she could so much as lick his skin, the lady's voice cut through.
"Stop! That's my uncle. I didn't want you to kill him yet."
What the hell was this girl talking about? She was the one who resurrected Cassidy with that wacko magic.
"So what is it, exactly?" Cassidy barked back, her voice feral. "Since you wanted me so badly?"
The pale lady met her gaze without flinching.
"I need you to kill everyone."
---
10:45 PM
"So you want me to kill everyone?" Cassidy replied, doubt creeping into her voice.
"Yes," the lady replied seriously.
"You cannot be serious." Cassidy said. "What do you mean by that? Explain more. Otherwise..." She started to lick the uncle's neck, and for some reason, it kind of tasted like chili?
It took a moment before the lady spoke. Everything was quite weird—she could see everything in the night sky like it was day. What was exactly going on?
"Everyone who's important to the clan. Their meeting is tonight, and I think this is the only chance you'll ever get to strike every one of them down." She looked away from her uncle and Cassidy as she spoke, clearly not comfortable with her or them in any sense.
"Why the hell would you prefer a person like me to do it over someone I trusted my life with?" Cassidy asked, her grip loosening. The uncle tried to play dead.
"Because..." the girl started, tears welling up.
"Because what?" Cassidy's voice raised a bit as the uncle went limp.
"Because they disbanded after you died." The lady looked down at the ground, crying as she hit the ground with pleading intentions.
Cassidy's grip fully let go as she heard that. The uncle, who had been limp, suddenly ran.
No way. Her company fully disbanded after she died? There were still demons to kill, even if she was gone. Why the hell would her being gone make a difference?
"What happened to the rest of them?" she asked, stepping closer to the girl. Her body couldn't stop salivating at the girl, couldn't stop the hunger.
"I don't know—"
The girl was cut off as Cassidy's own hand beheaded her. With a swift swooft.
Her anger subsided. Cassidy, now back in control, checked to see if her hands were working still. Checked to see if this was still real or hell. All of it so far was real. Frustrated by her body, she punched a tree and it launched skyward.
The girl.
She looked oddly tasty. No! her inner mind yelled. Don't be like them! it retorted as the girl's body started to regenerate. But without a second thought—
Squelch.
Her inner thoughts looked at her, shocked.
I don't care if I become like them. I just need to get rid of them, then I'll find a way. Any way to get out. Including—
Flashback to when she got shot by the state.
—the horrible way out, she finished saying aloud as the girl's regeneration stopped and Cassidy's inner mind went silent.
---
10:55 PM
After a few minutes—or hours—Cassidy got up from the ground.
"Wrong answer," Cassidy replied, walking away to go look for that meeting.
"You'll never find your way there—" the girl whispered before giving out and fading away into dust.
"Don't doubt me, kid." Cassidy said as she walked out of the mass graveyard and toward the city.
---
12 AM
Everything changed.
Well, no shit—bound to happen when you've been dead for 20 years.
Cassidy emerged from the mass graveyard, brushing dirt from her regenerated clothes. The city sprawled before her, recognizable yet foreign. Automobiles rattled down cobblestone streets, their headlamps glowing in the dusk. Streetcars clanged along tracks, sparks flying from the wires above. Women walked past in short fringe dresses and cloche hats, their laughter carrying on the evening breeze. Men in fedoras and suspenders crowded outside a speakeasy, the muffled sound of jazz seeping through hidden doors.
Jeez. There were people everywhere.
She pulled her coat tighter, keeping to the shadows. Her senses were still on overdrive—she could smell bootleg whiskey from three blocks away, hear the scratch of vinyl records like drums in her ears. The hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she pushed it down.
If only there was someone who could help with a disguise...
A man leaned against the brick wall, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. Red hair slicked back, sharp suit, two-tone shoes polished to a gleam. His grin was all charm and danger.
"The name's Caspian." He tipped an imaginary hat. "And yeah, I'm willing to help. With a price!"
Cassidy relaxed slightly, though she kept her distance. "Okay, how much, redhead?" She pulled out her coin purse—the leather cracked, the coins inside hopelessly outdated.
Caspian laughed, a low and knowing sound. He flicked his cigarette into the gutter. "It's not how much. It's how many you're going to lay down for humanity."
His smile widened, and for just a moment, she saw it: the fangs. The vampire side showing through.
Cassidy blinked, genuinely confused. "Huh?" She shook her head, refocusing. "Look, all I'm asking is—do I owe you money or no?"
"Not in the sense you're thinking." Caspian glanced around the bustling street, checking for eavesdroppers. When he leaned closer, his voice dropped to a whisper. "The meeting will be outside town. Old warehouse district, the one with the broken weathervane. 5 AM sharp. Don't bring anything."
Cassidy started to daze off—the hunger, the overload of sensations, the exhaustion of being alive again after two decades of silence—
"Huh? Wait—huh?"
But Caspian was already gone, melted into the crowd like smoke. A passing streetcar blocked her view, and when it passed, he'd vanished completely.
"Remember our deal," his voice echoed in her mind.
Cassidy stood there for a long moment, processing. A group of flappers giggled as they passed her, their perfume cloying in her enhanced senses. Somewhere, a radio played from an open window—tinny jazz and a crooner's voice.
She snorted.
"What a weird guy."
She pulled her coat tighter and walked away, toward the only place that made sense anymore.
Toward her old house.
---
2 AM
The streets blurred past her as she walked, each step heavier than the last. Storefronts she didn't recognize. A movie theater advertising The Sheik with Rudolph Valentino. A drugstore with a neon soda fountain sign. Speakeasies tucked behind unmarked doors where men in sharp suits slipped inside after secret knocks.
By the time she reached the edge of her old neighborhood, the sky was painting itself in bruises of purple and orange. Her house—her house, the one she'd grown up in, fought for, bled for—stood dark and abandoned. Boarded windows. Porch sagging. A "FOR SALE" sign hammered into the overgrown front yard, the paint already peeling.
Cassidy stood across the dirt road and stared.
Twenty years.
Twenty years, and no one had even bothered to keep her home standing.
A Model T Ford rattled past, kicking up dust. The driver barely glanced at her.
She thought about the girl back in the graveyard. Her severed head staring at nothing. Her words echoing in Cassidy's mind: "They disbanded after you died."
Her company. Her people. The only family she had left after her blood family was forced from this land.
Gone.
Because of her.
Cassidy's fists clenched at her sides. The hunger roared in her stomach, but something else burned hotter—something that had nothing to do with vampires or resurrection or deals with strange redheads.
Rage.
She looked toward the horizon, past the city's edge to where the warehouse district waited in darkness. Somewhere out there, the Confederate vampire clan was gathering. Planning. Celebrating, probably, while her legacy crumbled to dust.
5 AM.
She'd be there.
And she'd bring nothing but the teeth and claws and fury that had kept her alive—and dead—for twenty years.
---
5 AM
Warehouse district.
The building with the broken weathervane.
Cassidy watched the horizon. The sky was going to bruise purple, then gold, then burn orange. Sunrise in...
Twenty minutes.
She could smell them inside. Dozens. Important ones—the girl was right. The ones who kept on while her company fell apart. The ones who ordered her people to leave. All gathered in there.
This was the only chance she'd ever get to take these guys down. She could wait for the sun to do most of the work—let it pour through those grime-caked windows, turn the warehouse into an oven. Cleaner that way. Less of her involved.
But where was the statement in that?
She rushed toward the building and kicked the door in.
They turned to look at her—all pale skin and too-sharp smiles, dressed in finery that screamed old money and older evils. Crystal glasses halfway to lips. Cigarette smoke curling toward rafters. Someone's joke died in his throat.
Cassidy grinned, and she knew her teeth were wrong, knew her eyes were wrong, knew everything about her screamed predator now.
"Morning, gentlemen."
She didn't wait for introductions.
They lunged at her.
The next few minutes were... messy. She was stronger than she'd ever been. Faster. The hunger sang in her veins, and for once she stopped fighting it.
Teeth found throats. Claws found chests. She threw one through a window and watched him crisp in the first real light.
Someone shot her. She barely felt it.
Someone else tried to run. She caught him at the door.
She was laughing. When did she start laughing?
---
Ten minutes in, the warehouse was a slaughterhouse. She was covered in blood—hers, theirs, it all tasted the same now. Her body kept stitching itself back together, but slower now. The sun was climbing. The shadows were shrinking.
She found the last one cowering behind an overturned table. Some kid, barely turned, eyes wide and wet.
"Please—"
She hesitated.
One second. Maybe two.
Then she remembered her house. Boarded up. Forgotten. Her company. Disbanded. Her people. Gone.
She didn't hesitate after that.
---
Five minutes till full sunrise.
Cassidy stood in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by bodies and ash and the things that used to be important people.
She was burning. Not metaphorically—the light was hitting her through the broken windows, and her skin was smoking, blistering, blackening at the edges.
It hurts, she thought as she looked at the light.
Good, her second inner thought replied sharply.
She walked to the center of the floor, found a patch of direct sunlight, and sat down cross-legged. Like she was waiting for a meal. Like she was saying grace.
The fire caught her clothes first. Then her hair. Then her skin, peeling back, revealing—what? What's under a monster when you burn it away?
She closed her eyes.
Twenty years of silence, she thought. Then this.
Her body started to burn.
She started to well up, then—
Hey. You're the only person I know that took out all the baddies that I couldn't.
The second thought manifested as herself, but with more human features.
The second thought hugged Cassidy as she was burning.
I'm proud of you, honey. The face changed to her mother's, then disappeared.
Cassidy started to cry.
The last thing she heard, before the fire took her hearing, was someone shouting her name.
Not in fear.
In recognition.
---
And Then...
She opened her eyes.
She was standing in a great hall. Golden light poured from somewhere she couldn't see. Warriors laughed at long tables, drinking from horns, slapping each other's backs. The smell of roasting meat—real meat, not the weird chili-tasting stuff—filled everything.
She looked down at her hands.
Clean. Whole. Human-looking.
"You did it the hard way," a voice said.
She turned.
Volkov stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Behind him, peeking nervously, was a familiar head of red hair.
Caspian grinned. "Told you she'd make it, Gramps."
Volkov ignored him. He was watching Cassidy with something like respect. Like recognition. "The sun. That's a choice."
Cassidy looked around again. The hall. The warriors. The light.
"Is this...?"
"Valhalla." Volkov uncrossed his arms. "You died in battle. More or less." A pause. "Less 'more' than most, maybe. But the gates opened."
She should have felt something. Relief? Joy? Instead she just felt... tired.
"I killed them all," she said. "And I liked it."
Volkov nodded slowly. "Yes."
"I'm a monster."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "So am I. So are half the people in this room." He gestured to the hall. "Valhalla doesn't ask what you had to become to get here. It only asks if you fought."
Cassidy stared at him.
Caspian piped up from behind: "Also, technically, you did burn yourself alive in a vampire nest, so... pretty sure that counts double?"
Volkov shot him a look. Caspian shrugged, unrepentant.
And for the first time since she woke up in that grave...
That was all Cassidy had known for 20 years. The last time she'd closed her eyes was in the 1900s, mostly because her family was Native and had been forced out of the land she'd once called home. She couldn't go with them, so the state executed her and buried her in a mass grave alongside others who were disabled or elderly.
She would've been content with that, too.
If it weren't for another one of them who woke her up.
---
10:30 PM
Gasp!
"Oh, thank goodness it worked!" a voice said from above.
Cassidy looked down at herself, then up again, realizing that her body was regenerating.
"Oh no no no no no—" She grabbed her head, trying to wake herself up or pull herself out of this nightmare.
"Hey, hey, no—we aren't doing that." A lady with snow-pale skin descended toward her and hugged her.
Cassidy, thoroughly weirded out, tried to push her away. "The wood would burn you if you touched it, but—"
The lady produced a suspicious piece of red meat in her hand, and for some reason, it looked incredible to Cassidy. She started drooling like a puppy. The lady noticed.
"Nuh-uh," the lady said, raising the meat above her head. "I need you for a mission first."
Cassidy shook her head. "What do you mean?"
The lady motioned for her to move. "Well, obviously not here." She leaned closer to Cassidy's ear. "Someone's watching," she whispered.
Cassidy started to go limp. "Oh jeez," the lady muttered.
But then—
Cassidy launched herself out of the hole with immense strength and somehow, a keener sense of smell. She located the perpetrator who'd been watching. Her teeth elongated like snake fangs, and her body stretched unnaturally as she lunged to catch him and—
Eat him.
But before she could so much as lick his skin, the lady's voice cut through.
"Stop! That's my uncle. I didn't want you to kill him yet."
What the hell was this girl talking about? She was the one who resurrected Cassidy with that wacko magic.
"So what is it, exactly?" Cassidy barked back, her voice feral. "Since you wanted me so badly?"
The pale lady met her gaze without flinching.
"I need you to kill everyone."
---
10:45 PM
"So you want me to kill everyone?" Cassidy replied, doubt creeping into her voice.
"Yes," the lady replied seriously.
"You cannot be serious." Cassidy said. "What do you mean by that? Explain more. Otherwise..." She started to lick the uncle's neck, and for some reason, it kind of tasted like chili?
It took a moment before the lady spoke. Everything was quite weird—she could see everything in the night sky like it was day. What was exactly going on?
"Everyone who's important to the clan. Their meeting is tonight, and I think this is the only chance you'll ever get to strike every one of them down." She looked away from her uncle and Cassidy as she spoke, clearly not comfortable with her or them in any sense.
"Why the hell would you prefer a person like me to do it over someone I trusted my life with?" Cassidy asked, her grip loosening. The uncle tried to play dead.
"Because..." the girl started, tears welling up.
"Because what?" Cassidy's voice raised a bit as the uncle went limp.
"Because they disbanded after you died." The lady looked down at the ground, crying as she hit the ground with pleading intentions.
Cassidy's grip fully let go as she heard that. The uncle, who had been limp, suddenly ran.
No way. Her company fully disbanded after she died? There were still demons to kill, even if she was gone. Why the hell would her being gone make a difference?
"What happened to the rest of them?" she asked, stepping closer to the girl. Her body couldn't stop salivating at the girl, couldn't stop the hunger.
"I don't know—"
The girl was cut off as Cassidy's own hand beheaded her. With a swift swooft.
Her anger subsided. Cassidy, now back in control, checked to see if her hands were working still. Checked to see if this was still real or hell. All of it so far was real. Frustrated by her body, she punched a tree and it launched skyward.
The girl.
She looked oddly tasty. No! her inner mind yelled. Don't be like them! it retorted as the girl's body started to regenerate. But without a second thought—
Squelch.
Her inner thoughts looked at her, shocked.
I don't care if I become like them. I just need to get rid of them, then I'll find a way. Any way to get out. Including—
Flashback to when she got shot by the state.
—the horrible way out, she finished saying aloud as the girl's regeneration stopped and Cassidy's inner mind went silent.
---
10:55 PM
After a few minutes—or hours—Cassidy got up from the ground.
"Wrong answer," Cassidy replied, walking away to go look for that meeting.
"You'll never find your way there—" the girl whispered before giving out and fading away into dust.
"Don't doubt me, kid." Cassidy said as she walked out of the mass graveyard and toward the city.
---
12 AM
Everything changed.
Well, no shit—bound to happen when you've been dead for 20 years.
Cassidy emerged from the mass graveyard, brushing dirt from her regenerated clothes. The city sprawled before her, recognizable yet foreign. Automobiles rattled down cobblestone streets, their headlamps glowing in the dusk. Streetcars clanged along tracks, sparks flying from the wires above. Women walked past in short fringe dresses and cloche hats, their laughter carrying on the evening breeze. Men in fedoras and suspenders crowded outside a speakeasy, the muffled sound of jazz seeping through hidden doors.
Jeez. There were people everywhere.
She pulled her coat tighter, keeping to the shadows. Her senses were still on overdrive—she could smell bootleg whiskey from three blocks away, hear the scratch of vinyl records like drums in her ears. The hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she pushed it down.
If only there was someone who could help with a disguise...
A man leaned against the brick wall, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. Red hair slicked back, sharp suit, two-tone shoes polished to a gleam. His grin was all charm and danger.
"The name's Caspian." He tipped an imaginary hat. "And yeah, I'm willing to help. With a price!"
Cassidy relaxed slightly, though she kept her distance. "Okay, how much, redhead?" She pulled out her coin purse—the leather cracked, the coins inside hopelessly outdated.
Caspian laughed, a low and knowing sound. He flicked his cigarette into the gutter. "It's not how much. It's how many you're going to lay down for humanity."
His smile widened, and for just a moment, she saw it: the fangs. The vampire side showing through.
Cassidy blinked, genuinely confused. "Huh?" She shook her head, refocusing. "Look, all I'm asking is—do I owe you money or no?"
"Not in the sense you're thinking." Caspian glanced around the bustling street, checking for eavesdroppers. When he leaned closer, his voice dropped to a whisper. "The meeting will be outside town. Old warehouse district, the one with the broken weathervane. 5 AM sharp. Don't bring anything."
Cassidy started to daze off—the hunger, the overload of sensations, the exhaustion of being alive again after two decades of silence—
"Huh? Wait—huh?"
But Caspian was already gone, melted into the crowd like smoke. A passing streetcar blocked her view, and when it passed, he'd vanished completely.
"Remember our deal," his voice echoed in her mind.
Cassidy stood there for a long moment, processing. A group of flappers giggled as they passed her, their perfume cloying in her enhanced senses. Somewhere, a radio played from an open window—tinny jazz and a crooner's voice.
She snorted.
"What a weird guy."
She pulled her coat tighter and walked away, toward the only place that made sense anymore.
Toward her old house.
---
2 AM
The streets blurred past her as she walked, each step heavier than the last. Storefronts she didn't recognize. A movie theater advertising The Sheik with Rudolph Valentino. A drugstore with a neon soda fountain sign. Speakeasies tucked behind unmarked doors where men in sharp suits slipped inside after secret knocks.
By the time she reached the edge of her old neighborhood, the sky was painting itself in bruises of purple and orange. Her house—her house, the one she'd grown up in, fought for, bled for—stood dark and abandoned. Boarded windows. Porch sagging. A "FOR SALE" sign hammered into the overgrown front yard, the paint already peeling.
Cassidy stood across the dirt road and stared.
Twenty years.
Twenty years, and no one had even bothered to keep her home standing.
A Model T Ford rattled past, kicking up dust. The driver barely glanced at her.
She thought about the girl back in the graveyard. Her severed head staring at nothing. Her words echoing in Cassidy's mind: "They disbanded after you died."
Her company. Her people. The only family she had left after her blood family was forced from this land.
Gone.
Because of her.
Cassidy's fists clenched at her sides. The hunger roared in her stomach, but something else burned hotter—something that had nothing to do with vampires or resurrection or deals with strange redheads.
Rage.
She looked toward the horizon, past the city's edge to where the warehouse district waited in darkness. Somewhere out there, the Confederate vampire clan was gathering. Planning. Celebrating, probably, while her legacy crumbled to dust.
5 AM.
She'd be there.
And she'd bring nothing but the teeth and claws and fury that had kept her alive—and dead—for twenty years.
---
5 AM
Warehouse district.
The building with the broken weathervane.
Cassidy watched the horizon. The sky was going to bruise purple, then gold, then burn orange. Sunrise in...
Twenty minutes.
She could smell them inside. Dozens. Important ones—the girl was right. The ones who kept on while her company fell apart. The ones who ordered her people to leave. All gathered in there.
This was the only chance she'd ever get to take these guys down. She could wait for the sun to do most of the work—let it pour through those grime-caked windows, turn the warehouse into an oven. Cleaner that way. Less of her involved.
But where was the statement in that?
She rushed toward the building and kicked the door in.
They turned to look at her—all pale skin and too-sharp smiles, dressed in finery that screamed old money and older evils. Crystal glasses halfway to lips. Cigarette smoke curling toward rafters. Someone's joke died in his throat.
Cassidy grinned, and she knew her teeth were wrong, knew her eyes were wrong, knew everything about her screamed predator now.
"Morning, gentlemen."
She didn't wait for introductions.
They lunged at her.
The next few minutes were... messy. She was stronger than she'd ever been. Faster. The hunger sang in her veins, and for once she stopped fighting it.
Teeth found throats. Claws found chests. She threw one through a window and watched him crisp in the first real light.
Someone shot her. She barely felt it.
Someone else tried to run. She caught him at the door.
She was laughing. When did she start laughing?
---
Ten minutes in, the warehouse was a slaughterhouse. She was covered in blood—hers, theirs, it all tasted the same now. Her body kept stitching itself back together, but slower now. The sun was climbing. The shadows were shrinking.
She found the last one cowering behind an overturned table. Some kid, barely turned, eyes wide and wet.
"Please—"
She hesitated.
One second. Maybe two.
Then she remembered her house. Boarded up. Forgotten. Her company. Disbanded. Her people. Gone.
She didn't hesitate after that.
---
Five minutes till full sunrise.
Cassidy stood in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by bodies and ash and the things that used to be important people.
She was burning. Not metaphorically—the light was hitting her through the broken windows, and her skin was smoking, blistering, blackening at the edges.
It hurts, she thought as she looked at the light.
Good, her second inner thought replied sharply.
She walked to the center of the floor, found a patch of direct sunlight, and sat down cross-legged. Like she was waiting for a meal. Like she was saying grace.
The fire caught her clothes first. Then her hair. Then her skin, peeling back, revealing—what? What's under a monster when you burn it away?
She closed her eyes.
Twenty years of silence, she thought. Then this.
Her body started to burn.
She started to well up, then—
Hey. You're the only person I know that took out all the baddies that I couldn't.
The second thought manifested as herself, but with more human features.
The second thought hugged Cassidy as she was burning.
I'm proud of you, honey. The face changed to her mother's, then disappeared.
Cassidy started to cry.
The last thing she heard, before the fire took her hearing, was someone shouting her name.
Not in fear.
In recognition.
---
And Then...
She opened her eyes.
She was standing in a great hall. Golden light poured from somewhere she couldn't see. Warriors laughed at long tables, drinking from horns, slapping each other's backs. The smell of roasting meat—real meat, not the weird chili-tasting stuff—filled everything.
She looked down at her hands.
Clean. Whole. Human-looking.
"You did it the hard way," a voice said.
She turned.
Volkov stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Behind him, peeking nervously, was a familiar head of red hair.
Caspian grinned. "Told you she'd make it, Gramps."
Volkov ignored him. He was watching Cassidy with something like respect. Like recognition. "The sun. That's a choice."
Cassidy looked around again. The hall. The warriors. The light.
"Is this...?"
"Valhalla." Volkov uncrossed his arms. "You died in battle. More or less." A pause. "Less 'more' than most, maybe. But the gates opened."
She should have felt something. Relief? Joy? Instead she just felt... tired.
"I killed them all," she said. "And I liked it."
Volkov nodded slowly. "Yes."
"I'm a monster."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "So am I. So are half the people in this room." He gestured to the hall. "Valhalla doesn't ask what you had to become to get here. It only asks if you fought."
Cassidy stared at him.
Caspian piped up from behind: "Also, technically, you did burn yourself alive in a vampire nest, so... pretty sure that counts double?"
Volkov shot him a look. Caspian shrugged, unrepentant.
And for the first time since she woke up in that grave...
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“So this fic has been abandoned but you should read it anyways because…” hold up. Have you not been reading all promising fics regardless of completion this entire time
Today I learned that an alarming number of yall are filtering fic by “completed works only” which is WILD to me because some of the best shit I ever read was incomplete. Just like how some of the best friendships fade, the best experiences end, the best partners pass away before you’re ready. Nobody wants good things to end but they do and that doesn’t make them less meaningful. And sometimes a tree must be nurtured before it can grow
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seraphim/sato2.0 (though it is her deadname)
THIS WAS SO HARD FOR ME TO DO OH MY GOODNESS IT TOOK LITTERALLY DAYS FOR ME ON HOW TO LEARN HOW TO DRAW DIGITGRADE LEGS I ALMOST HAD TO RESTART BECAUSE OF THE BACKGROUND BUT AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I DID IT I MADE MY OC SHES SO FUCKING PRETTY, I LITTERALLY TOOK INSPO FROM THE WAY I LOOKED AND THE THINGS I LIKE (MOSTLY JUST BLUE ARCHIVE, ZENLESS ZONE ZERO, MADOKA, AND OVERALL ANIME STYLE FROM THE 2010'S )
IM SORRY FOR TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT THIS IS MY WAY OF CELEBRATING I DID THE IMPPOSIBLE FINISH AN ARTWORK FROM START TO FINISH WITHOUT BULLSHITTING :D
this is the one with the rose filter one because i wanted to try something new with clip studio,
blank background i made :D
and heres the blank background if anyone needs it for some reason :D
so yeah thats about does it ill make a yumelore intro soon but yeah thanks so much for standing by while i was making this artwork more soon to come
bye :D
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romaincrisis
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