#very short idk how to feel about it or if i should even elaborate it

[py-dreamer]

...hi again?

"WHAT IS THIS?!"

"WHERE'S THE MONKIE GANG? OR SHADOWPEACH?"

"HAS PY DROPPED OUT OF THE LMK FANDOM?!?!"

To answer that question: no. No I haven't

Short and concise answer is I do personally feel a little burnt out on lmk but while that doesn't mean I've abandoned it. Not in the slightest

Anyways, very busy time for me rn so updates and any art in particular will be VERY sparse in the coming months I'm afraid.

That being said, gotten back into an oldie of mine I'd never thought I'd revisit: Object Shows!

More specifically: Inanimate insanity

Look I was into this when I was like a preteen and grew out of it then all of a sudden II s2 ep18 dropped. Like hell, I didn't even know that invitational existed (and lowkey still haven't seen it- BUT I KNOW THE LORE, BOT IS MY WEE BABY OK I KNOW THE LORE)

And drawing these gijinkas kinda gave me more flexibility and let me design people again even though I'll admit quite a few ideas are very common in gijinka's used in the fandom

So um I'll see how this goes, I already have the sketches for the other season's cast and will probably post them regardless though.

Let's start with S1's king, the fruitiest lad on the aisle: OJ!

(Btw I think it's HOP rather than HOJP)

I know he's meant to be like a glass of OJ, so theoretically his hair should be more slick/smooth but I decided to go for the flowy juice angle! Something to make his hair look more like flowing liquid.

Orange slice earings! In fact, orange slice accessories everywhere! (it's so marketable srsly don't know why it ain't used more often)

The orange watch was a fun concept ^u^ specially since after getting the hotel, I'd imagine him being a lot more uptight with sh!t and use clocks/watches to keep track of things

TBH, he'd probably also have a pair of rectangular long glass dangly earings to swap out for like the formal events.

Yay! For slacks! Thought they'd look really cute on him and other than Suitcase, wanted to give him something unique rather than just a suit/suitjacket (eg the hosts, Taco)

But oh, look at that he comes with two outfits! Just like a doll...

Bet paper would bu-

(no but srsly I lowkey bet that fan has like mini action figures of the S1 cast in his room or something, maybe even S2 & 3 too.

Also this man might be snazzy but he has the ugliest ties. We're talking about the same person who designed his hotels to have hallways with windows but not bedrooms.

Paper! Such a cutie pie!

Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you, what's not to love?

Don't have much to say about him sadly

Though his eyebrows gave me a LOT of issues. I like his stripes though! Seemed like the guy to have freckles like when peeps give him pencil sketch lines in this object form, what do ya'll think about the warm brown eyes though? Wanted to make him seem welcoming but idk.

(Bonus: paperclip earing!)

Gosh, I'm too tired for this rn, I'll elaborate on the designs another time

OH!

And happy new year!

And happy Chinese new year!

[fadeintolight]

pont pont vesszőcske

[noodle-made-a-mistake]

A short list of things that bother me about the Magisterium canon:

Forgive me in advance for rambling, I have to get these thoughts out of my brain lmao (also it's been a couple years so correct me if I'm wrong! (I really hope I’m wrong on some of these :’) )) Spoilers ahead obviously!

● The lack of Calron :(

● Not taking the opportunity to develop Tamara's character and keeping her static until she's randomly just different. Strong female characters aren't just skilled and perfect until their one flaw (usually it's having feelings like any other human being) is revealed shockingly (that's just sloppy characterization), they should be crucial to the plot and not overlooked in favor of developing other characters (from what I remember she literally was my favorite while reading the series until she just got annoying (??) after a while, of course that could just be because the story is told through Call's perspective but still)

● The entire school system that I need more info on bc it sounds so unthought out and not like something that has existed for hundreds of years

● The forceful nature of making people serve as masters?? That makes no sense? Like, “Congratulations on not dying during your schooling or in the war(s), your prize is forced labor 👍.”

● Also THE COLLEGIUM WAS MENTIONED AND NEVER ELABORATED UPON

● TGT. Least favorite book. Get out. Tgt truthers how do you do it??

● The Maugris plot twist. It destroys the meaning behind the past four books. It's just so uncalled for and frankly just sloppy ig? I love the idea in a way, but only if it's foreshadowed from the beginning. Also I'm too attached to the complicated dynamic of Alastair raising his possible ex-bestie for it to end up like that

● The fact that the iron trio is out of school for half the series, I'd like to know what's normal, y'know??

● THE LACK OF ELABORATION ABOUT THE FIRST GEN I WANT TO KNOW MORE I HAVE TO KNOW MORE

● They did my man Constantine especially wrong, give him some ✨️character✨️ aside from E V I L and problematic (trademark) and charming (???)

● AND ALASTAIR GOD TELL ME MORE?? He's characterized as distant and obviously traumatized with his hate of his magic involved past but I just need to know what that past was like. Like who was he before his dead wife syndrome?? Idk but I'd of liked any excuse to know more about it just so I can understand him more??

● Please give me a single character trait of Declan's?? Like he was mentioned a handful of times and that's all we got. He was just some guy and I am hating it !!

● And Sarah. Like. She was a mom and liked peace as a concept but she also made a cool ass knife. That's a lot of things left up for interpretation. And I know Call wasn’t allowed to ask questions for plot reasons but god i wish he had more information about his own dead mother for Christ's sake

● Also other than a victim, who was Jericho? I need to know who this kid who drew scribbles in the margins of his very important journal while writing about how he was slowly being killed was. What was his relationship really like with his brother if he was so scared to say that he was dying or what gave him the impression that he didn't care?? It's fascinating and I need him under a microscope immediately

● Also the lack of queer representation until the last two books. AND THEN IT WASN'T EVEN ANY OF OUR MAIN CAST. Literally the saddest L ever :(

● AND AARON WAS NEVER CONFIRMED QUEER LIKE WHAT THE FUCK JUST L O O K AT HIS CHARACTER AND INFACT ALL OF OUR CORE CAST IS AT LEAST BI LIKE C O M E O N (ik they're like kids but even I knew I was not straight when I was like 11 and i lived in the most conservative non-LGBTQ-friendly town known to man)

● Low key, callmara was so bad, like I love them but not the way it happened, horrible set up. Tamara deserved so much better and to not have her entire character destroyed by becoming a love interest. I wish they thought about her as an independent character instead of the means to implement a romantic subplot in tgt, they did so good in the first books with that

● Also there's no elaboration on what chaos is. It's the mystical 5th element. Wow! Let's go girl, give us nothing! You'd think that if Makaris were so exceptionally rare and special that we'd get some explanation on how they come to be and what it is exactly that they can control but we're just left to assume it's the special "chosen one" type of thing. Idk it bothers me for some reason :/

That's just off the top of my head and it's been years since I read the series all the way through (I should do a reread soon). For the most part I adore this funky series and I hate to bash it but I felt the need to ramble about it's shortcomings because I'm not crazy, right?? It had so much potential! Anyway, I'm sort of glad for the blanks in the story despite complaining about them because it leaves room for fics and fan interpretations that I always love to see, but on the other hand, I'd like for the story to feel finished and not like a last minute science fair project.

Thanks for sticking around for my late night rambling lmao

[alxastrx]

Twst reasons to overblots & design rating !

Tw : SUBJECTIVE OPINION

Reasons to overblots :

1- Malleus

You mean to tell me that an almost immortal being is getting hate bcs he's loosing the closest thing he had to a friend and a father knowing that that'll happen to everyone he knows and can't take it like a mature adult ? When faes are canonically minors under the age of 200 and he's 178 and clearly struggling with his emotions since he was raised in loneliness ? Lmao. Okay. (I have to keep it short or I'll do a full Malleus analysis and no one wants that).

2 - Vil

I CANNOT put into words how much realism he was made with, and I could FEEL it through his overblot. Overblotting because no matter how HARD you try you'll always be second ? Because people will always prefer the other option because you're SO hard on yourself that you legit seems overworldly to others and it makes them feel intimidated ? Vil better than me I would've overblotted SO MUCH more in his shoes. And him being disgusted with his own actions because HE KNOWS THAT THIS ISN'T HOW HE SHOULD ACHIEVE GREATNESS OH I'M SICK. And the aftermath when Rook voted for the other team ? While I understand that it was logical and I don't blame him for that, it legit hurt me, so can you imagine Vil ? He literally almost fainted, and that's a tame reaction if you ask me. Vil overblot was perfect.

3 - Riddle

No need to elaborate I think. His overblot hit too close to home and I IMMEDIATELY loved him. Also while I love Ace he kinda deserved to be punished for the tart tbh. Like just don't steal what's not yours ? Use your brain ? Riddle punishing him was EXTREMELY reasonable, even more so when you know that he LOVES strawberry tarts, and Ace refuting that AND coming after his position when he could have just APOLOGIZED, is def one of the reason I wasn't fan of him for MONTHS. Not surprised that Riddle got very mad at him (I def would have too).

4 - Leona

Now his reason was very similar to Vil, but the reason I liked it less (doesn't mean that I disliked it) is because he knew he would be second from his birth, that nothing he could ever do would change that while Vil has the possibility to become first, and he's yet unable to do it and I find that even more tragic. Leona was literally doomed from the start and yet he still tried his best for years only for the people he would have been a king to if the successor was based on skills alone to be the one hating him ? Kill me. It caused him depression and ruined his life, so much that he gets held back on purpose to not go home ? Killed me even more. He deserved so much and he got so little hiahdqirongbzkzhzo.

5 - Idia

Listen, I understand the pain of loosing a brother, I lost one of mine, but never in my 20 years of life would I have ever thought of building an IA OF HIM ?? He kinda went crazy with this one. I wished we had gotten his parents' reaction to robot Ortho tbh. Him being unable to move on from Ortho was so good, especially when we know that he blames himself for his death, and getting CORRUPTED by og Ortho is perfect. I don't have a lot more to say, sorry.

6 - Azul - starting from here, there's a huge gap between the classements. The 5 firsts were TIGHT together.

He's an achiever who lost the empire he built, I get it. But like, just build it again. Stop crying and rolling on the floor, and get up and act like a man. Of course, I know he's still a minor too, so I understand why he reacts like that, but Idk. I didn't feel as attached to his overblot as the others, which I'm kinda sad about since I REALLY like him, he's just so enjoyable.

7 - Last and least, the bitch himself, Jamil

Could have prevented the overblot if he learnt what communication was and I'll stand by that. Tried to kill Kalim because he couldn't take his anger on their parents, the yk, lmactual reasons why he felt like this in the first place. And he held Yuu captive too. He has no excuses.

Design :

1 - Riddle

PERFECT. LITERALLY UNMATCHED. The cards, the dress, the makeup, the eye color change, everything was PERFECT !

2 - Vil

I didn't know I needed nun Vil before but I do now wtf. He made me think of Mary so much it's insane I was in shock. The spikes were GOOD.

3 - Jamil

Since this on design alone, this is the only time he'll ever be in one of my top 3. The color scheme was on point and the snake design was VERY fitting.

4 - Azul

It was GOOD. And since it gave us Azul in merform it's 🧚‍♂️🧚‍♂️. The color was fitting once again and he just overall looked good.

5 - Malleus

I'll never say it enough but NEON GREEN IS SUCH A BAD CHOICE FOR DIASOMNIA LORD ! Forest green would fit them all MUCH better, and it's proved once again by his overblot design. The purple is good, but the green is such a thrown off dude... I also didn't particularly like the hair choice but I did like the tail. The rest of the design is just not very special.

6 - Leona (he's fighting with Idia for the last place)

The hair... the hair was not it. (I did like how it kinda matched Cater's (especially when you consider that Cater had called him sweatheart minutes before... my Leokei shipper sense is in action...)). The rest of the design was just meh.

7 - Idia

I'M SORRY BUT THAT WAS JUST HIDEOUS WTF. Idia with short hair is my nightmare dude.

[foster-the-moths]

verify (catalyst but worse au)

jonah wakes up, and gets in contact with someone he thought he left for dead.

1,474 words. what else am i supposed to put idk man just take it

"….adam? are you there?"

silence. unbearable silence. silence that tears a hole in their chest as it echoes and rings in his ears. silence that consumes what little scrap of sanity they had left, because really, what were they expecting? there's no way he was still alive. they-

a crackle of static.

"…jo...nah?"

holy shit.

"adam! are- are you…. okay? are you out of the basement? please tell me you're, like, the REAL adam and not an alternate," jonah babbles as he clutches the walkie talkie in his hand like a lifeline. their head pulses as they lean on the outside of the wrecked car, bracing themself against a wave of nausea and… static? that's not normal. he… probably has MAD, or something. everything feels slightly off, like someone moved reality three inches to the right. or left. or both? he doesn't know, he feels like he doesn't know anything. and- wait. adam. that's right. jonah hasn't heard him say anything, did he miss something? he brings the radio up to his ear, straining to listen.

"…"

nothing but static.

"adam? come on, if you're still in the basement then please just… get out of there man. i- uh… i crashed the car, but i didn't really get that far, so i can just start walking back. i'll meet you there, just… get out of the house and we can… i don't know. get out of here. just get out and i'll meet you there," jonah ends their sentence with a hiss through clenched teeth. fuck, his head is killing him, the pain swallowing him whole as it-

"no. no, i'm not coming out."

jonah snaps back to reality, his thoughts cut short like a tv being unplugged. "h-whuh?"

"i'm staying here. just leave," adam's garbled voice insists. it's as if he's speaking through cotton and static. shit. jonah's radio must've gotten damaged during the crash. these were the long-distance ones, too… jonah shakes their head, and then immediately regrets it as a spike of pain shoots through their head. it doesn't matter. all that matters is getting adam out of that stupid house.

jonah takes a breath, steadying themself. they really aren't the best at apologies, and whatever's wrong with their head isn't going to make it easier. regardless, they swallow their pride and prepare to speak.

"adam listen i- i'm sorry, okay? i'm really sorry i said that shit to you and-"

"no. you don't- jonah, i… i'm not real. i'm not adam," adam interrupts jonah's apology with a harsh buzz of static, the words sending a pit of dread into their stomach.

"…what do you mean?" jonah grits out, refusing to believe the implications those words carried.

"i was never adam. the real adam murray died when he was four i- i'm an alternate. always have been. i just never knew until now." jonah stays silent as the words register, more confused than ever. it just… didn't make sense. the pieces of this puzzle weren't connecting in his mind. adam was human. he knows that. right?

"just leave," adam- or whoever- snaps.

jonah pauses. something… wasn't right. alternates don't just reveal themselves before they even get caught. besides, from what jonah's heard, they would never pass up on an easy meal. or victim. or whatever they saw humans as. maybe he should have paid more attention to those drills, rather than rolling his eyes whenever they were mentioned, but… this does not seem like something an alternate would say. either this "alternate" has a very strange strategy, or its not an alternate at all.

"… how old was i when i got my driver's license?"

"what?"

"just answer the question," jonah insists, his suspiscion growing stronger at how perplexed the "alternate" sounds. he just hopes he's right about this. that they aren't playing into some sort of elaborate trap. he holds his breath as he waits for an answer. there's silence for a moment, but then-

"…you don't have one. your parents didn't want you to take the test until you got your grades together, but you never did. i taught you how to drive after we started going on investigations."

bingo. jonah was right.

"… shit… you- you're really him. you just- okay- okay uh-"

"that's it? you're just going to believe me?" adam's voice cuts through jonah's rambling, disbelief tinging his distorted voice.

"well yeah- i mean. no way you could fake knowing that. and uh- okay well maybe i should ask more questions, just in case?" jonah nearly smacks his head. he was really just going to put full faith into a single question? god. they're pretty sure their hunch is correct, and it's hard to think through the pounding pain in their head, but that doesn't mean they need to fling themselves into the lion's den after one point towards their theory. they need more than that. compiling evidence, or whatever sarah would say. he's so caught up in berating himself that he almost misses the "alternate's" response.

"…sure. whatever," a tight voice replies.

jonah collects his thoughts, thinking of a good question to ask. "okay, uh. what kind of pizza do we always get?"

"pepperoni from 7/11. its the cheapest stuff near hq and the cheese pizza is awful," comes the reluctant answer. jonah can hear the scoff in the other's voice, can imagine adam starting a tangent spurred by the mere thought of the sad excuse for cheese pizza at their local gas station. jonah shakes himself out of his thoughts, now was not the time. he had to stay focused. their theory was looking more plausible by the moment.

"okay, what about sarah? what's the name of that one guy she sends those emails to, and why?" jonah awaited the response with baited breath, if he was right, then…

"thatcher davis, that stupid cop. or ex-cop. whatever he is. sarah hates all cops, but she seems to hate that guy in particular. no clue why though, i've never asked her."

jonah was over the moon. they almost gave up the interrogation right then and there, but they had just one question left.

"okay… and what gas station did we stop at right before we got to the house? and what did we both get?"

"it was a… bp, i think? you shoplifted a dr.pepper after using their restroom. i didn't get anything."

jonah breathes a sigh of relief. this was adam. the real adam. they aren't sure why he seems so adamant about denying it, but they can work with this.

"yeah! yeah, see? you're definitely adam. you're not an alternate dude. i don't know why you're saying that, but you're not."

"they showed me. there was a tv in the basement," adam counters, his voice cold.

"and who's 'they'?" jonah asks, his theory nearly proven correct.

"the alternates. they-"

jonah cuts him off before he can finish, "yeah, see? alternates. you've been speaking to alternates. you probably have that MAD thing or whatever. you- they're messing with your head. don't listen to them. you're fine, you just need to get out of there, okay?"

"no," adam retorts, "you-you don't get it. my- my body is… it's wrong, jonah. i'm not… human anymore. i never was. i…" adam's voice trails off, not bothering to finish his argument. his voice sounds… anguished. like he's on the verge of tears. it's unexpected, and jonah isn't quite sure what to make of it.

jonah mulls over the new information, adam's words have thrown him for a loop. his body was... "wrong?" they had never heard of that before. then again, he's pretty sure MAD could induce hallucinations. he could have sworn he saw… something just before crashing the car, and he still hears whispers in his head, scratching at his thoughts like a cat at a door. maybe this was just another symptom of MAD? if it was, then adam needs to get out of that house, now.

jonah clears his throat, and speaks carefully, "listen, that- that's probably another symptoms of MAD, alright? just- just ignore it. it's not real, it's just in your head. focus on getting out of the house, don't think about anything except for getting out. i'm heading over, it won't take me long that long to get there. just… hang in there, okay? you got this. we'll find another car to hotwire, and get the fuck out, yeah?" adam sniffs on the other end, and holy shit, is he crying?

"…okay," adam's voice is hoarse, and jonah feels like shit for leaving him behind in the first place.

"good. now just… keeping talking, alright? talk to me as you get out, and don't stop talking. stay with me," jonah says as he pushes himself off of the car. he looks down the road and sighs. he has a long way to go.

[jonayariley]

so i have been curious for the longest time since the couple was revealed in all your projects, and its piqued, idk if you've answered something like this before so if so just throw me the link if needed but i must know your elchixie thoughts.

like the hows, the whys, what hc's based off canon, fanon, whatever you have for em just, ramble bout em, i find myself curious on many a crackship and the urge to poke brains on the reasonings for em (and no offense i just, don't think i can go through so many fic chapters to learn some info on this ship sorry)

Oh boy oh boy you sure did come to the right place! I may have talked about this in other places, but idk that I've ever have someone just outright ask, and I think you'd probably be sifting through mostly commentary on Friendsim 2 to find any details and that's like... hours of video to watch, so this ask was a good idea!

I guess the heart of why I love the Elwurd/Chixie dynamic so much is a combination of "I can fix her" and "they should have talked." Allow me to elaborate!

Elwurd

So, I really like the idea of exploring how characters can grow and change (or, conversely, refuse to change) over time. When I was writing my Hiveswap novels (and I later carried this over to Friendsim 2, but those came first so they get first credit here), I really wanted to explore how Elwurd could evolve as a character. Like, in the original Friendsim and Hiveswap games she's kinda one-note - not, like, bad or anything... just she's gay and flirty and she's kinda a jerk sometimes. But there's only so much you can do with a character in a short visual novel route and a handful of dialogue boxes as a side character in an adventure game.

But I wanted to explore the idea of how Elwurd's outward "fuck everyone else" attitude might be something she puts up as a way of not having to deal with the horrors of her reality. The combination of being expected to support the Empire as a cerulean (something she doesn't have any interest in doing) and still being kinda powerless to actually do anything to change things. So she throws herself into escapism - drugs and booze and casual hookups. There's a line in Delightful Abattoir that I keep circling thematically with Elwurd:

I just want to not have to feel that pain all the time. So I do things to escape from it a few minutes at a time. Is that so bad?

And that's kind of where she's at in the beginning of her arc, headspace-wise. Like I said, I carried a lot of this forward to Friendsim 2, albeit with a more grounded take on the world that follows the original Friendsim.

Chixie

She's someone who exists in this precarious space - a lowblood who's in the Alternian entertainment industry, which already puts her under a very uncomfortable spotlight. As a marginalized person, you don't really have a lot of room to make mistakes in the public eye, because you're judged way more harshly for it - or seen as a representative for your entire class of existence as a person. So that's already a lot of pressure, added to the whole secret identity thing with the Mask.

And tbh, I see the Mask as being kind of an open secret - like, she doesn't even change clothes, so it doesn't seem like no one would be able to figure it out, but also I really like playing with the idea of the Empire allowing a certain level of performative/superfluous rebellion among the population. Basically, you can talk about it as long as you aren't actually causing problems. And that's going to be frustrating to Chixie too because she wants to actually make a difference.

I see her as someone with a lot of trust issues - not a lot of super close friends, and she's clearly not dealing well with the stress either, given that we see her in canon having issues with substance use.

In my Hiveswap novels and Friendsim 2, I added the extra layer of having to deal with having Zebruh as her manager - someone who wants to exploit her both from a commercial perspective and sexually (he keeps hitting on her in Friendsim 2 and in Delightful Abattoir they're in an outright abusive relationship at first).

Elwurd/Chixie

So, independently there's a lot going on, but the other part of this is I feel like these two would naturally run in some of the same circles. Elwurd is shown hanging out in a bar, partying, etc. in canon - and seems like someone who would absolutely be involved in the underground music scene and run in some of the same underground circles as Chixie, even if it was just to sell folks drugs.

In Friendsim 2, I added the layer of having Elwurd basically acting as a roadie for Chixie's band sometimes - she's just kind of hanging out in the same places and with the same people (like fellow dissatisfied cerulean blood Mallek) and the whole "just trying to avoid thinking about this shit too much" attitude is gonna drive her to do something to keep her mind off the existential bullshit that is her life. Why not help a pretty bronze blood carry an amp and run some cables, right?

I really like the idea of these two eventually talking and starting to connect over some similarities - disgust for the Empire, a feeling of helplessness in their lives, a desire for things to be different somehow. They don't take exactly the same angle towards things - I'd say Elwurd is far more self-destructive and Chixie is more kind of "rage against the machine" about it - but I think there's enough common ground that they could end up talking and getting closer.

I've always liked the headcanon that Chixie is demisexual - probably a good deal of personal bias going into that (and - yknow - "vibes"), but it's a fun element to toss in there. That means that Elwurd/Chixie is always going to be something that's a slow burn and is always kinda fragile. In Friendsim 2 you have to line a few things up right for them to actually consider being matesprits, and in the Hiveswap novels it takes a while for them to end up together.

And, like, I feel like their attitudes temper each other. Elwurd finds someone to ground her self-destructive tendencies, and Chixie finds someone who helps her feel less isolated and less inside her own head all the time. They both still run in the same circles, and Elwurd always struck me as someone who'd be down with the idea of fucking over the Empire, so the whole Mask/rebellion thing isn't a hard sell.

Anyway, that turned out very much longer than I expected, but I hope it gives you some insight into why I keep gravitating to that ship! As far as I can tell, it's a pretty uncommon one and it's like - just something that worked its way into my brain and now I'm obligated to include it literally everywhere!

[moonsprings]

ccir episode 15 thoughts (it's long)

admittedly i'm mildly surprised at some folks saying ccir is a great critique on the educational system - imo i personally found it poorly handled mostly due to pacing issues and i don't really find the way they wrapped up the mr ji plot to be satisfying. if people want a show that critiques the extreme culture surrounding the asian educational system i think sky castle is a far better drama. despite some of the qualms i have with the last episode of sky castle it was well written overall and didn't suffer from so many of these issues like ccir does. i stand by this serial killer plot not really adding much to ccir's story - i think it would have been better if they went a more realistic route exploring what someone in that situation would do, especially in regards to ji dong hui being a victim of an abusive parent and a witness to his sibling's suicide. i think even just expanding upon the murder of his parent would have been enough of a mystery without adding in this whole serial killer plot if they really wanted the thriller mystery. i'm not against having a murder plot line (again, see sky castle) but i don't think the way it was executed worked here. a lot of plot lines seem poorly resolved. i can think of several b-plots that were wildly rushed or never mentioned again: - they never mention the female student stalker who got shot in the very beginning of the show ever again. honestly i only found out she was dead this week because the news in the story says 3 dead, multiple injured - but the drama never said she was dead explicitly before or acknowledged it with any additional scene of her family/friends asking why she's missing, especially given that ccy was accused of dating this particular underaged student. it's weird they never mention it or show an investigation of her death unlike the other student who was also killed on screen. - what happened to ccy's piano date? not even a short text msg from her on screen to finish out their short relationship and they act like she never existed. - sua's onset mental illness issues - likely will be mentioned in the last episode? but i find the way sua's story's been paced really awkward - in the beginning she got significant screen time, and now she's dropped off so much i forgot she existed for most of the last 3-4 episodes. they also never elaborate why she's obsessed with haeyi either. - jaewoo and yeongju's rapid 2 episode romance was badly paced. they should have set it up from the beginning so it didn't feel so last minute. - haeyi's bio mom suddenly appearing and dominating the last 3 episodes of the series completely overtaking the focus on the serial killer plot, which ended up giving the murder mystery a rather lackluster ending. - haeyi unaware? of mr ji's death as there was no scene connecting the two despite her being attacked and kidnapped by him, and in general mr ji's death feels like it's glossed over quickly - we don't see the impact of his suicide on his coworkers or the police or the victims's family/friends. it also feels like ccy also gets over it really fast. like... i feel like they needed short scenes or even just a line to acknowledge these things happened in order resolve these story points more completely. there were parts i also enjoyed about this ep like the smaller moments - sunjae and geonhu's hilariously wholesome back and forth outside the hospital. i liked that haeyi didn't pick either of them and that the love triangle isn't so combative or typical, and that they're all genuinely good friends with each other. ccy and nhs's short interaction to show he has a support network now and someone who cares for him as much as he cares for her was nice, as well as haeyi's teacher's gentle banter with nhs about ccy. idk how the last episode's gonna go but eh 😔 jeon doyeon does dramas so rarely that i know i'm gonna watch it to the end anyways... and i enjoy jung kyungho's acting as well so... only one episode left so i really do hope they can wrap this up enough to be an ok ending.

[ventingbeec]

State of minds and the way your body feels

So i recently realised how feelings influence so much the way you see the world around you.

Idk how to elaborate it but i want to tell an experience i had.

So when i was younger for some reason i was afraid or idk to shop. Exactly, i was anxious about shopping in supermarkets. I don’t really know why?

Maybe because i thought people are staring at me and judging me, or maybe because i was low on money?!

So i found a picture where my friend showed me she bought a cup of noodles, and i remember i really wanted to try but for some reason i never searched for it, and even the few times i went with my mom at shopping and found something i wanted i would just leave it.

So now thinking about it it sounds so pathetic but back then it was such a blockage for me to do the most basic things.

Right now i can spend hours in supermarkets, its the lamest thing ever, so why did i put that experience on a pedestal??

Another thing i used to put on pedestal when i was younger was a white pencil. I really really wanted a white pencil and i thought it was such an amazing thing, and when i bought my first one i was so happy, but then i coul afford to buy more so got a lot feon different brands to test them out and even now i have them, maybe for like 8 years?? They are around the house but i don’t care about them, they are lame, but i used to think omg such an amazing thing.

So my conclusion is that we tend to put such insignificant things on pedestal and think we can’t approach them when in real life they are lame af. But still i don’t have any wise advice to give tbh. I still want insignificant things, and i still think im not worthy having them when in reality they are probably very approachable, how to stop this?

So for example, i really want to be tall, like 5’7, can i really do this? probably? do i know how to? maybe idk? is there anything that’s stopping me? most certainly.

So because this is my vent blog anyways, i will talk nonsense.

1. I want to be tall because i want to or because others judge me cus im short?

I will enumerate some moments people judged my height.

1. My mom

so my mom always tells me i would be more beautiful if i was taller

when i was younger she would tell me to work out to grow taller

she pushed me to do a lot of things to grow taller

she always judge other short women calling them names so maybe i feel she thinks the same about me

do i want to be tall just to make my mom happy? i want this for her? i want to look a certain way so that she would stop judging me just for existing?? why does she wants this? shy can’t she love me just for who i am, if i was even more shorter shat would she think about me??

omg i feel like im about to throw tf up right now

i never realised i feel like this

how can i stop this?

am i worth it? probably, but how do i stop hating myself and caring what others think about me

i feel maybe they would never like me even if i was 7’1 so then what’s wrong with me? do i want to grow just to ignore them after and prove something? but i don’t heve to prove anything to anyone, am i right?

the only person i should care about it’s me

so is height really that important?

but i don’t know how to care about myself anymore?? what do i do?? skincare??

i’m so confused

i really want to fit in the society beauty standard so bad, i want people to accept me amd love and admire me

but why??? why do i care so much??

if i would have loved myself then would i care anymore about what others think?? idk how to live myself

i don’t think i have to do anything to love myself, i should do it just because i exist, but why do i feel so weird then

why do i want to prove something when i shouldn’t

2. my dad

i feel like i care about his male gaze

not in a weird way, but in a “i think my child it’s ugly way”

idk if you know that movie when a girl turns into a pig, like, her nose is pig like

and at some point her dad told her mom that

“we have to admit, we have an ugly daughter “

that line, that scene, why is that in my mind? why did it stuck from the moment hear it??!

it passed more than a decade but that line is my roman empire

why do i care about this so much

now that i write this, i never realised how much i cared about my parents opinion about my outside appearance but i do

i do a lot until it eats me alive

one time i was sitting at the dinner table and so my dad stared at me and then smirked

so my mom asked him why

and he giggled and said “look how much X looks like her grandfather”

my grandfather who is first of all a man, second of all a big, crooked, septum deviated, nosed man

i remember that moment so vividly, i wanted to disappear in that moment so nobody could ever see my face ever again

never

i don’t hate the way my grandfather looks, but i am aware of how he’s seen by the society

and i am aware that remark wasn’t something nice but something to point out ugly features

one time when was really into selfcare

and i really wanted to drink a gallon of water a day for health and also clear skin

my father overheard my discussion and he intervened saying that “where could that much water go through your body? for you maybe one cup of water a day”

and for me, that didn’t seem funny

that shattered me, i hate it, i hate so much being perceived

i hate so much being made fun of

i don’t want to look the way i look anymore

i hate me, i hate the way i look

why am i like this, why am i so weak? so skinny?? and some of you will sat it’s something good but it’s not, as a grown up woman i look like a little boy, i feel less of a woman

i feel im not worthy, i feel like i deserve absolutely nothing and i don’t understand why was i born and why am i still alive to suffer

i do i care a lot about shat people say about me

because in our society it matters a lot how people perceive you

i wish i didnt care but i do

i wish i was different but im not

i wish i could look like the beauty standards

i wish i could make my parents happy

i wish i could prove something

i wish i was loved and appreciated

i wish i wouldn’t have to hate myself so much

i wish i could just live in silence and be happy and eat and wash my body and sleep and play and do things i like and love myself

i wish i could just love the way i looked

everything about me

even my big crooked nose

i wish i could truly love it but it bought me so much pain

so much pain

for just existing and not bothering anyone it attracted so much pain

why do i have to look a certain way to not be bullied???!!!

why do we all have to look the same

after some pattern

i think i should stop caring about others

even my mom or dad but it’s kind of hard

[skeppsbrott]

Unfortunately the post you reblogged about the perception of autism as something only cool people have was written by a terf. (I agreed with the post so I checked out op’s blog, got bad vibes, searched “trans” and found ugly stuff real fast)

Hi there anon!

So I've been waffling back and forth about how to reply to this but here is (sort of) where I have ended up:

Terfery is bogus. I don't need to elaborate on this. Terfery was embarrassing, destructive, self-cannibalising and reactionary when I first encountered it in like, 2012. In 2023, amidst a quite frankly astounding and terrifying backlash, even moreso. Socially isolating terfs from fellow feminists, activists, and (possibly) queers is a legitimate tactic of activism and I think it is a quite effective one. You treat our siblings, friends and allies like that while calling yourself a feminist? Go take a long walk off a short pier, mate.

And yet...

I do not really want to recieve messages like this.

I understand the impulse and I think the fact that you go out of your way to send me this underlines something important - we have a culture on this corner of the Tumblr that terfs ain't got no friends. It is not controversial to be like "yo fuck feminists that oppose trans liberation and have a gender-essentialist worldview" and that's unequivocally a good thing. I am glad that you trust my politics enough to send me this. I am glad that my politics shine through enough that I would obviously support your anonymous suggestion (except it is not a suggestion, you just gave me this information to, idk, fill out a bingo card and draw my own conclusions with, but nonetheless).

And yet, I do not really want to recieve messages like this.

I gave up social media activism many years ago. It made me miserable. It made me miserable to be around. It made my spaces of respit miserable and it meant I was always fucking on and I am not saying I am a great activist now but at some point you realize you'll just burn yourself out on that shit when instead you could like, idk, talk kindly to young queers who haven't worked out their internalised shit yet and help people come out of their freshly cracked eggs and support your older queer friends in their quests for parenthood in this wretched world. Make sure that anyone in your social circle knows that if they fuck around with gender essentialism they'll find out real soon but not because you make a big deal out of hating terfs but because you are loud and proud about having declared the old ways of doing gender over and done with. Hopefully?

I don't know. If you are my friend or you've followed me for a long time or we're mutuals or whatever and you see me behave in a way that makes you feel unsafe on my blog I think it is fair to reach out. "Hey, Skeppsbrott, this person you reblog a lot of art from is a quite vocal terf on their main blog and I really wish you wouldn't". "Hey, Skeppsbrott, I think you are being way too charitable to the debate happening on that post you just reblogged. This is my read, I hope you'll reconsider."

That seems actionable to me. Like yeah I probably should pay attention to the politics of people who very often end up in my reblog chains! I definitely should pay attention to the changing rethoric used by gender essentialists! I do not, however, want to spend energy wondering whether every post I reblog might possibly be made by a terf and feel guilty if I perhaps missed one. I also struggle with the anon ask as something that demands a response but which also demands it publicly. Would you have noticed if I removed the post but never replied to your ask? Would you get suspicious if I never DID reply to your ask? I guess part of why making it an anon ask is that the act of condemning terfery in an ask is more potent than removing a jokey and a little mean but nonetheless fair post about autism that got like three hundered notes. No one really suffers from that post, that's kind of the conundrum here. Either way, I am not here to scorch the earth, but then again -

"Hey, Skeppsbrott, this person you reblogged a post from is trying to become a tumblr funnyman so that they can infiltrate more people with transphobic propaganda"? Yeah. I guess that is not so different from what I commented above.

Perhaps at the end of the day I am just really, very, terribly equipped for social isolation tactics. I just can't really bring myself to do it. Call it trauma or poor constitution or whatever. It just brings me this great, deep sadness, where I look at who I was and can't help but wonder what I would have gotten lost in if there hadn't been people who looked me sternly in the eye and said "that's fucked up. Get out now before I too grow to hate you".

Or maybe I am just a coward. That is entirely possible as well. Even quite likely.

Thank you, anon, genuinely. I appreciate it. But maybe next time, don't?

xx

[chronotopes]

ok. Katias Wicked Review. if you followed me when wicked was my favorite thing in the world you are entitled to a veterans discount. review written with the vague assumption that one has seen the movie but no explicit spoilers for act two

not surprised by cynthia erivos off the shits fantastic performance but surprised – perhaps unfairly? by how fantastic ariana grande was in the role. glinda is kind of my favorite character in a show on account of being by far the most #complicated and therefore interesting which means i was skeptical of a pop star stunt cast but i forgot that ariana grande was an actor before she was a singer and i honestly thought she did really well. like she got the glinda-specific vocalizations wonderfully while clearly putting her own level of deep and movie-specific thought into the role

on one hand: i had to tell jenny the deal with the big cameo in one short day by frantically whisper-explaining it to her while my brain exploded. on the other hand: when boq showed up she had to tell me "that's ariana grande's irl boyfriend!!! that's spongebob!!!" because i would NOT have known that on my own.

the stagings of the ensemble scenes were genuinely FANTASTIC. i expected to cry at the end from sheer 'this is a musical that shaped me when i was fifteen' emotions but instead i cried during no one mourns the wicked lol. in particular, what is this feeling and dancing through life were WONDERFUL. the school setting-specific choreography in what is this feeling built so wonderfully on the existing feeling of the song while adding MOVIE MAGIC to the sequence. it was just off the shits great. what do you MEAN a movie can expand and elaborate on a musical format instead of just being confused and embarrassed by it. what do you MEAN!!! the gym class when elphaba and glinda are fighting with some kind of singlestick situation....i was fucking delighted

i was less impressed by the staging of the ballads – like they were mostly fine, there's only so many ways one can stage a ballad, but i think i was kind of peeved by the sequence in i'm not that girl where elphabas simply Seated And Looking Directly At The Audience as if its the stage show when that format doesn't even show up elsewhere in the movie. rest of the song was fine, wizard and i was great.

the overlighting was DEEPLY annoying especially given how fun and lovely the actual set and costume design choices were. this is such a small thing but i felt such joy about the tiny little shot in one short day where elphaba and glinda were spinning through little displays of Tourist Magnets for the emerald city. idk, i think the movie did a fantastic job of taking the goofy-but-fun steampunk-esque aesthetic of the og musical and fleshing it out into a cinematic world.

wicked is just kind of an Ableist Adjacent Enough Musical That Even My Dipshit Thirteen Year Old Self Noticed but i do think the movie improved on the musical significantly in that regard, which makes me curious and veeery cautiously optimistic about what they're going to do with act two. at any rate nessa was wonderfully cast and her relationship with boq was very necessarily fleshed out and given dimension. for what a BIG DRAMATIC SONG and KIND OF FLIMSY EMOTIONAL PLOT-driven musical wicked is, it actually... benefits a lot from cinema acting? like i felt *miles* more fond of boq and nessa and honestly fiyero both than i ever felt watching the stage musical/revisiting the soundtrack.

book accurate fiyero (aka black fiyero for those not in the know) would have slayed but we can't all get what we want apparently. sigh. so, less importantly, would musical accurate fiyero (aka fiyero in slutty tight-fitting pants). his costuming was kind of lamer than that of the female cast but i have no beef with his actual performance. so.

ok, quick review of changes/additions i found unconvincing: the extended 'oh, man, WHAT COLOR BRICK SHOULD THE ROAD TO THE EMERALD CITY BE??' sequence before sentimental man, the 'reaching out to my inner child' sequence right before defying gravity was kind of lame and felt like padding; the aborted hot air balloon escape attempt felt a little useless, it was giving 'melting golden statue fight in the hobbit part two' a little in terms of Adding Things To Pad Out An Action Sequence That Wasn't As Actiony In The Source Material, but it was at least nowhere near as long so i'll give it that; i have weird feelings about defying gravity that i'll discuss one bullet point from now

quick review of changes/additions i found really fun and useful if not an active improvement over the stage musical: everything to do with the wildly complicated dynamic between elphaba nessa and their father added wonderful levels of dimension to the show; splitting up madam morrible into the Lame And Mostly Plot Irrelevant headmistress and the Sympathetic-Appearing Brilliant Magic Professor Who Betrays The Protagonist At The End was so brilliant that i found myself wondering why the hell the stage show had not done that; changing half of something bad to be about a community meeting between animals rather than just dr. dillamond confiding to elphaba gave a great sense of animal agency and the wider world; a lot of the extended dialogue between songs especially dancing through life was key to making the songs work for a movie format; the new music for The Emerald City Cameo was – in maurines words, it went on a little too long, BUT YOU CANT HATE, IT'S THE BIG CAMEO!! and also the wizamania sequence in og one short day is already kind of useless so repurposing it to add exposition (in addition to The Big Cameo) is actually very smart

i was most curious about how they'd stage defying gravity because in addition to being The Most Iconic Song In Wicked it also felt like the most difficult to stage through a movie format, at least after elphaba actually starts flying. maybe i'm biased as someone whose 13 year old brain's whole personality was that scene for like two months but it's hard to translate because OUR PROTAGONIST IS FLYING!! is simply less impressive on a movie screen than it is onstage. i thought the actual staging was, like, fine, but i thought the way they broke it up was kind of silly. especially with how they kept having elphaba fly away and then return to sing To Glinda / To The Wizard / Whatever, it felt like she kept being about to exit and then returning to go "AND ANOTHER THING!!!!" which is reasonable for her situation but not the best way to deliver an extremely iconic song. again, SOME breaking up was always going to be inevitable, but i think the degree to which they broke up the BIG CLIMACTIC SOLO after "i hope you're happy, now that you've chosen this..." is kind of shooting themselves in the foot a little. as someone whos seen the broadway show / is closely familiar with the soundtrack, it just kind of felt like Defying Gravity Edging, which is not how you want your act one closer to feel imo. cynthia erivo bodied that song of course but she should have done it on a more uninterrupted basis.

speaking of being closely familiar with the soundtrack, rip to "THE WIZARD WILL SEE YOU NOW!!!!" please pour one out

the movie was shockingly well paced for its length but i am bummed that unless i spend stupid amounts of money to see the stage show i can't tell jenny what happens in act two for like two to three years. the twists in wicked are fairly goofy and predictable but i think theyre really fun to see for the first time as part of One Unified Play. so rip to that experience

that said, i think this adaptation had a wonderful grasp of What Makes Wicked Good And Fun – even the over-the-top moments like Elphabas Inner Child or the yellow brick road discussion resonate with the utter lack of subtlety that give the musical its charm, so how mad can i really be?

my concluding thought is that, as a former teen musical theatre nerd and a forever adaptation nerd, it is just really delightful to see a musical movie thats Happy To Be A Musical while also adapting/creating good and beloved material. i feel like a lot of the musicals that were Praised For Musical Strats in the past decade have been plasticky Products in the vein of lala land or the greatest showman, but this is ..... an adaptation of a wildly popular and beloved musical that seems to wholly understand what made young gay teens' brains go coco bananas for it?? phantom didn't get that (at least not all the way) and les mis CERTAINLY didn't, but i think – whatever the movie's faults, credit card commercial color grading and all – wicked absolutely did. seeing the movie filled me with a more measured and adult version of the glee that my thirteen-year-old self experienced about seeing the stage show, which (for those curious) were as follows:

so anyway. conclusion: wicked forever, more high-effort choreography in movie musicals or else, Madam Morrible Should Be Played By Captain Philippa Soo Herself And Be Cast As Deeply Sympathetic So That Her Betrayal Has Real Impact, damn ariana grande can still act holy shit???, This Shit Was Gay As Hell But I Knew It Would Be So I Focused My Takes On Other Things, seated as fuck for how they'll adapt act two, and lest i forget: WICKED FOREVER!!!!!

would anybody read my short and sweet thanksgiving night one-night-late wicked review

[chicanomick]

Ight gonna do a quick little cross over but!

Supernatural season 12 episode 14 when Mary and the boys have a fight and Dean says “How ‘bout for once, you just try to be a mom!”

And Mary says “I am your mother, but I am not "just a mom." And you are not a child. “ and Dean responds “I never was.”

Monica and Fiona vibes.

~*~

Monica comes back into their lives with Liam on her hip. Fiona foolishly thinks that finally, she’s here to stay.

Monica takes odd jobs to help around the house. Fiona quits her babysitter gig and goes back to school. After two months of perfect attendance, Monica forgets she promised Carl and Debby she was going to pick them up from school. 

Another day she isn't there to make breakfast. "I had an early shift," she said that night as she makes dinner.

At least she's home for dinner Fiona thinks, setting the table.

And then the occasional early shift and late shifts turn into them only seeing her when she gets home to sleep. Fiona goes back to forging signatures and ditching her last two periods to run a couple of streets over to pick up the kids on time. She cashes in some favors and is able to get Liam a babysitter for two weeks.

That same day she drops her perfect attendance.

Fiona comes home, stepping over a passed-out Frank on the front porch, and finds Lip smoking a cigarette. She doesn't scold him only because she hears her mother’s choked sobs coming from upstairs.

Monica doesn't leave her bed for two weeks. 

The shortest episode yet, Fiona thinks, holding back her mother's hair as she throws up the first meal she's had in weeks.  She goes back to school per her mother's request.

She hands in her absents note at the front desk and tries not to think about Monica.

The eighth grade seems to last forever.

She skips her last two periods and picks up Debby and Carl from school and Liam from the babysitter who says her two weeks are over.

Two weeks over. Two months over.

She cuts Monica's matted hair.

She makes a fake resume, because 16 is better than 14, and gets a job cleaning tables at a small Mexican restaurant.

She picks up the kids after work, feeds the kids, puts the kids to sleep, and then goes to babysit other people's kids while they go out. Anniversaries, girls' night out, a single dad who gets stood up. She has to lock herself in the kid's bedroom. She doesn't get paid that night.

Three months.

She graduates 8th grade. She drops Debby and Carl off at the public library while Ian babysits Liam. The two oldest Gallagher siblings go to work. Frank and Monica are helpful when it benefits them. Other times they're like two more children Fiona has to care for.

At least both parents are home

Four months.

It takes four months before Monica packs up to leave again.

Fiona yells at her and is tugging the duffel bag full of valuables and clothes out of her mother's hand begging her to stop and stay and “please just try and be a mom!”

Monica loses it and yells back about how she can’t live like this, how Frank is suffocating her and her new lover sees her for who she is. “I am more than just a mom Fiona!”

Fiona silently sobs, to be more than a mom you’d have to be a mom first.

Moving closer to her eldest daughter, Monica tries to hold Fiona’s face in her hands. Fiona is taller than her now, and has pimple scars and bags heavy under her eyes, “You are not a child anymore, Fiona. You can do this so much better than me. For me.” 

Fiona flinches out of her mother's hold. From Monica’s cold hands. She throws the duffel bag on the bed that will probably be empty come morning.

“I never was.”

[officiallyisagibrainrotted]

Promise

Based of off the Divergent series.

Warnings:RUSHED, I REALLY DIDN'T THINK I WAS JUST TYPING AWAY, IF YOU'RE CONFUSED HIT ME UP I WILL TRY MY HARDEST TO ELABORATE, GRAMMAR ERRORS, ECT

Idk if y'all saw but I posted a while ago that I have this "story" in mind and I was supposed to release some stuff about it but I forgot. But here's something...

Kunigami's Story: Day of Election

You knew what day it was, you marked it on your calendar. Oh how you dread the date wishing it was all a dream, but it's not, it's real, so very real.

You looked up at the calendar with tears forming.

You haven't talk to him either,you were so angry at him for his decision.He stopped trying to talk to you,he understands that your mad at him .

The last time he tried to talk to you,You told him to go away and that you hate him for leaving you.

Your words stung him,But he's smart enough to know that you didn't mean that. You were just frustrated,So he gave you space for about a week,till the day came.

He knocks on your room door, and wait for a response.

But you ignored him,All he could hear was small sniffs and sobs. He cringes at the noise,Your not one to cry you were always upbeat and sassy.

He waits for about 3 more minutes, before an exusted sigh leaves his lips."I'm sorry (y/n)".

You missed his voice,you haven't heard it for weeks. You missed how deep it was and how it would bring you to ease when you're in distress.

You tried to ignore the feeling of opening the door and leaping into his arms.Pulling him into your embrace. To hear his soft chuckle when you hug him a bit to tightly not wanting to let go.

But your anger was preventing you from doing so. You were so mad at him.

A small sigh leaves his lips,Before he walks away from your door.

You should get going too,You have to choose your career path.

But you didn't want to run into Kunigami on the way. So you waited for what seems like 10 minutes before heading out the door.

Looking left and right to me sure that the cost is clear.

You make your way through out the halls of the large facility till you made it to your destination,The auditorium.

You entered.

You look around for a a seat since nearly all of them were filled. You noticed a seat open and decided to take it while you still can,even though it's near the front.

When you took your seat,there was still one available next to you.

And in coincidence you noticed orange spike hair sticking out like a sour thumb. You tried to look away but your eyes and his met instenly.

He glance to the spot next to you.And began to make his way over.

Now you could take this as an opportunity to sit down with your boyfriend and talk about his decision,and everything would be back to normal.

But you being you,you ignored your inner thoughts and places your hand on the seat.

He got the message and cuts his joinery to you short. A small sigh leaves his lips as his face visible saddens.

Your heart clenched,You felt so bad,you hate that look. It makes him look like a sad lost puppy.

You turn your head away from him.

Kunigami on the other hand got distracted when a males voice calls his name.

"Kunigami,over here!".

It was Isagi and the other boys form his block.They were sitting on the other side of room from were you were.

He gives you one last look,Which you completely ignored and began to make his way to the seat his friends had saved him.

He takes his seat,His friends knew the situation going on with you and him,some told him to just give you all the time that you need. Others say to just wait till she comes and apologizes,since he did nothing wrong.

The moment finally began. Name after name were called and teens went up to choose whether they are a warrior,healer,inventor or a modern civilian.

Many choose to be a warrior,who wouldn't you get treated like royalty. Well that also depends on what ranking you on.[Warlords]

Our intelligent folks choose to work in the lab and invent. [ Intel ]

The ones with a loving heart choose be doctors/ nurses in the facility.

There are two types of caretakers that you must know: The ones that choose to be a nurse but also leave with the warriors when going on missions.[Battle Angeles]

Or you choose to stay in the facility and work when the teams who don't have a nurse with them.[Angels]

And our folks who just wanna live the simple life and be a civilian.

'Kunigami Rensuke'.

Your breath got caught in your throat,As you watch him step up onto the podium.

He extended his hand to the announcer,who then pricked his finger.

"What is your choice young man?".

He looks over the crowd and his eyed met yours,

Once again life is given you another opportunity. You could either give him a small smile,a smile saying that even though you don't like the idea of him be a Warlord your gonna support him.

Or you could give just ignor his look and make the situation worse.

Second option is what your going with. You looked away. He sighs and turn his focus back to the 4 decisions.

He already knew what he wanted to do.Its been his dream to be a Warlord. He knows that you are just upset but you'll blow over soon .

His finger smears the blood form the prick onto the paper reading:Warlord.

You could only feel the unsettling feeling increasing.

"(Y/n) (l/n)" .

You stood up from your chair and made your way to the podium.

You extended your finger to the announcer ,who pricks it.

"What is your choose young woman?".

You look at your options and your finger gently smears over the paper reading:Angel

After everyone was called the meeting was over. Everyone was divided into the decisions they made.

''Welcome to department Angel,Here is where you will treat our civilians and Warlords alike. Remember this is a very important decision you made. People's lives are in your hands,You may be young but not dumb. Age doesn’t judge your knowledge. Now doctors and nurses soon to be you have a week to prepare for your entrance exam. Now remember if you fail this exam you will not take cours Angel till next year. But you must also pass that exam.

You can only take the exam 3 time till you won't be able join Angel. I wish you best of luck".

'One week is all we have,Better study hard,its a 5 hour quiz with 300 questions'.

You went to your room and decided to start studying tomorrow. Thanks to the whole meeting thing and the situation with Kunigami,you were so tired .

You wanted to go see him,ask him about his decision and meeting.

But no, a side in you kept you from doing that.

You don't feel like thinking about it right now. You pushed your thoughts away and began to drift into a sweet slumber.

One week later

In the morning you woke up early enough to get some studying in. You first made your way to the kitchen were mostly everyone ate together. But you couldnt, so after greeting your friends you made your way back to your room. But on your way back you heard fast footsteps approaching from behind. You were aware of who they belong to and you didn't hesitate to slam the door in his face.

It's been a week and you have to take your entrance exam, and today's also the day Kunigami is drafted, Warlords take their exams three days after they make their decision, If they past, they began their first mission.

You'd think since your boyfriend got past a the toughest exams there is you'd celebrate with him. Give him kisses and rewards, Yes the ones who passed got their celebration. But the fact that you weren't there made him feel so empty.

But today is the day he goes on his first real mission, He wants to say goodbye to you before he leaves.

"Can I please talk to you, we have spoken in a nearly a month,And I'll be gone for a while,"

"..........."

"Our first mission is gonna be a S-rank, apparently it's bad out there so the new recruits are being exposed to the dangers of our world right of the bat".

'An S-rank mission,No,No,No that's the second most dangerous missions there is after S'. Why are they sending him?!.

You feel a lump getting caught in your throat,Horrible sanarios of Kunigami's uniform/dog tag being brought to you staind with blood.

How the unit captain will solute to you and tell you that your lover was strong and noble and that he will be remembered for his courageous actions of war.

You were interrupted of your thoughts when the voice of your lover spoke.

"Your really not gonna say anything".

''............."

"Well if your not,It's time for me to leave,They didn't give us much time to so bye to our family and friends'.'

".........'.'

"*sigh* I love you (y/n),I hope you know that".

He takes a minute before leaving. Making his way down the hall.

He's not as excited as he thought he would be,He wanted to share this experience with you of all people. But he can't be happy knowing that your mad at him.

"I knows how stubborn you could be, but I didn't think you would take it this far".

He says out loud to himself as he walks farther away from your room.

Go , Go to him!, you idiot before it's to late!. Give him a squeeze before he leaves it could be the last time you see him again!'.

Your inner voice shouted at you.

'But I'm mad at him!'. You know that your in the wrong but your stubborness won't let you admit it.

But another side of you couldn't help it anymore, you haven't spoken to him in nearly a month and now he's on his way to a suicide mission!.

The girl was quick to jump from her bed and towards the door, rushing down the hall hoping that you can make it in time.

He hears them, the sound of small feet quickly making their way to his direction, before he was attack with a hug, a tight bone crushing hug.

He inhaled the familiar smell of perfume before a small smile spread on his cheek .

But it was quick to disappear when he hears small sniffs.

"P-please come back to me, Kunigami *sniff* I'm serious".

He turns around and pulls you close to him with one hand as he runs his fingers in your hair with the other.

He lets out a chuckle before saying:

"Of course I'll come back,I promise".

"You better".

Ok that's my first part of a "chapter". I don't really want to call it chapter since it's not really a story????? It's more like a bunch of random ideas about the bllk fandom but in a Divergent series plot(I would highly recommend you watch it or read it the series is wonderful)but all the "chapters" that will be released in the future are all connected.

And this is just Kunigami's. Day of election I'll do other characters as well.

Still debating whether or not I should let you guys selective characters tho.

Pls pls pls feedback is important and so is reblogs!!!!! .

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

title: picture me pairing: vampire!johnny x black!reader genre: fantasy, romance, smut, fluff, angst summary: you meet a vampire-slash-photographer whose self-identity is increasingly lost to him, and you try to help him find some purpose again. word count: 18.3k warnings: age gap (cuz you know, vampires...but everyone is legal), mentions of discrimination/prejudice based on species, self-identity issues/self-deprecation, general angst, sheltered!reader, mentions of blood and drinking blood, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of lube, unprotected sex (do not try at home), creampie, johnny is packing in this fic ok! a/n: today (the 28th) is my birthday, so i’m posting this 100% self-indulgent fic that i’ve been working on between requests since september. it was very hard to get johnny’s characterization right for this fic and idk if i actually succeeded but i’m not revising this for the 1000th time lol. i love this fic with my whole heart tho.

i haven’t seen many vampire fics that really explore the whole “doesn’t show up in mirrors/photos” concept (shout em out if you know em) and...there’s probably a reason for that, this shit is hard af to write and there are some logic issues but whatever 🤪

(the beginning quote is from “criminal,” stan taemin!!)

The moment I fall for you is the end of my innocence

—

He sits in the same coffee shop everyday, like it’s a habit he just can’t break. But who are you to judge? You’re there, too. Watching him like a creep. Or maybe like an interested coffee shop patron, trying to be discreet and failing at it.

He wasn’t hard to notice. You’d never been to this coffee shop before, but your friend recommended it to you mostly for their in-house-made pastries; she claimed the coffee was good, too, but she wasn’t much of a caffeine person. You decided to give it a try when you had time between classes and a moment to breathe, not needing to talk to this advisor or that professor.

You saw him immediately when you walked past the shop window. He was sitting at a table near the front, staring down at his phone with a small cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Its miniscule size was almost comical in contrast to his...everything. He was tall—that much was obvious even with him sitting down—and imposing, wearing all black. His hair was equally pitch-black, his bangs hanging to one side and the rest shaved in an undercut. If you didn’t know much better, you’d think you’d stepped back into 2007 and landed dead in the middle of the emo craze.

He was interesting to look at. Not in a bad way, but in a way you don’t see very often. Deciding to walk in before you made yourself look totally weird staring at him through the window, you’d stepped into the coffee shop, the small bell dinging above your head. A barista greeted you at your entrance. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man, to your left, still looking at his phone.

You’d given your order and waited for it to be ready before taking it to a table on the other side of the shop. From that vantage point, you had a good view of the man. You tried to keep your eyes on your food and your phone, not wanting to spend the whole time looking at him, but it was a little hard not to.

When you took a bite of your pastry, you quickly discovered it was just as delicious as your friend promised—probably even more so. You made a noise of approval before you could catch yourself, and you glanced around the shop in embarrassment to see if anyone nearby noticed. Didn’t seem like it, at first. But then you glanced over to the man again only to find him looking at you below his eyelashes with a small, amused smile on his lips. He only kept his gaze on you for a second before returning to his phone.

What? You hadn’t thought you were that loud. How did he hear you from over there, and above the noise of the café? Even now, you remember how embarrassed you’d felt, ducking your head and looking away.

The man finished his coffee not long after that; he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. You glanced up only momentarily when he stood, but your eyes soon slid back to his form when you noticed something odd. On the wall behind him, there was a big oval mirror sitting pretty in its elaborate silver frame. He stood just a few feet in front of it, yet there was no reflection of him. The only thing you could see was the other side of the café reflected back, with another man sitting alone at a booth enjoying his own coffee. The tall man’s reflection was nowhere to be found.

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

You’d never met one before. At least, you didn’t think you had until then.

Unbeknownst to you, vampires are notoriously able to blend in more easily than most other supernatural beings—until faced with situations like that one in the coffee shop. Ultimately, there’s no faking a reflection no matter how hard you try to remain inconspicuous.

The man had caught your eye again. Thinking back on it, you aren’t sure of what expression you had on your face or what it must’ve looked like to him. It must’ve been something akin to surprise, though; you weren’t quick enough to disguise your reaction at his lack of a reflection.

He gave you another smile, though it felt sadder than the previous one, and walked out of the store, the small bell on the door ringing at his departure. He disappeared down the street in a swirl of black fabric, almost like something out of a movie, and you watched him retreat until you could see him no more.

You scraped your index fingernail over the wood table your food was resting on, your mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts. Your interest was piqued. And yet there was no way for you to know if you’d see him again.

—

At least, that’s what you believed then. Luckily for you, your subsequent visits to the coffee shop have proven fruitful; the strange, tall vampire is there more often than not, always in the same spot in front of that same mirror. Sometimes he reads a book, other times he looks at his phone, and other times still, he stares out the window at the passersby.

He acknowledges you whenever he sees you, either with a nod or a smile. You’ve never spoken to each other, though you know what his voice sounds like from hearing him talk to the baristas. It’s a nice voice, rich and handsome like him, and you find yourself gradually wanting to hear it spoken in your direction. But you aren’t sure how to talk to him, or what you should say.

There’s a lot you want to know about him and his vampirism, but you don’t think it’s fair to bombard him with questions right after meeting him—if you could somehow work up the nerve for that first step.

When you were young, your parents made sure to keep you safely sheltered away from anyone who could potentially be a vampire or any other nonhuman being. This game kept up until you went to college, where they could no longer “shield” you. Because of their lifelong fear and disgust, your knowledge of nonhuman beings is scarce and mostly inaccurate.

The man’s skin isn’t deathly pale like you’ve heard others say vampires always are. It’s nicely tanned, in fact. Nor are his eyes red, or his canine teeth abnormally sharp. And obviously, he has no aversion to sunlight, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here during the day. The only visible marker of his inhuman nature is his lack of a reflection. Maybe he’s not a vampire at all? Maybe he’s another type of being entirely. That only makes you more curious.

It’s not rare to come across supernatural beings, but they only make themselves known if they want to, or if it’s imperative to their survival. Most of them would rather quietly assimilate amongst humans or stay safe and hidden within their own communities. Humans are still too judgmental towards those who are different from themselves for nonhumans to feel truly safe or welcomed—at least not on a global scale. Small pockets of communities forged with human allies are helpful and sometimes vital for survival, but not always enough.

These small tidbits of information cycle through your mind as September gradually bleeds into October. You continue watching the thoughtful man in the coffee shop and making up your own secret theories about his life. You haven’t told anyone from school about this, because you already know the reaction would be nothing short of awful. Your parents would only let you go to school at the one university in the city that explicitly didn’t allow supernatural beings; it goes without saying that your classmates don’t view them in a positive light.

Part of you feels like you might be breaking the unspoken rules just by being at this coffee shop all the time and allowing this man to take up space in your mind. But who will know what’s inside your thoughts except you?

One day, your friend decides to accompany you on your lunch break, finally stopping by the café she recommended to you. The man is already there, as usual, and he smiles slightly when you and your friend enter. She doesn’t catch this, too busy wondering what she’s going to get off the menu today.

“I haven’t been here in forever, I wonder if Sam still remembers me?” You know Sam to be one of the baristas there, having read it on their name tag before.

“I doubt there are very many people who’d forget you,” you answer.

When you both have your food, you take a booth farther away from where the man sits, though you can still see him easily from this distance. Your friend settles into the seat in front of you.

You try to keep things inconspicuous throughout your conversation, but you must glance over at him one too many times, because your friend eventually raises her eyebrows questioningly. She turns around in her seat, making it obvious that she’s looking, and you groan as you keep your eyes in the opposite direction towards the window.

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

“He’s obviously someone. Someone interesting enough to hold your attention.”

“I don’t know the man,” you say curtly. You shuffle your napkin and spoon aimlessly, your nervousness rising. What if he has some kind of enhanced hearing and can hear what you’re saying right now? He definitely heard you make that noise that first day.

Your friend looks at the ceiling and blows air out of her mouth. “Whatever. I’ll find out who he is sooner or later.”

You take a sip of your drink and lower your voice to just above a whisper. Although you want to leave the subject alone, you’re curious about one thing. “You mean you’ve never seen him before? This café was your hangout spot before it was mine.”

She shrugs. “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone as...visually striking as him. Why are we whispering, anyway? It’s not like he can hear us above all this noise.”

You think to yourself, I’m not so sure about that, but you merely shake your head.

You spend a few more minutes talking before movement catches the corner of your eye. At this point, it’s practically a reflex for you to look in that direction. You try not to, but your friend has already caught you and turns her head to spy, too. The man has gotten up for whatever reason to say something to one of the baristas at the counter. Your gaze darts back to your cup after you’ve gotten your eyeful, but you’re nearly startled into dropping the cup at your friend’s gasp.

Oh. The mirror.

She grips the edge of the table. “He’s a vampire…?”

You don’t know what to say to that, and you feel oddly guilty for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “U-um, I don’t know…?” You can hardly finish your thought before your friend is scrambling to grab her purse. She hurriedly stands out of the seat, tugging your arm as she does.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Are you serious—?” You feel embarrassed heat rip through your body at her display; some other café-goers are already looking at her curiously, probably wondering what the hell she’s doing. She tugs more incessantly, and you already know she’ll get louder if you don’t get up now and defuse the situation. Leaving your half-full cup behind, you grab your things and follow her out of the store, keeping your eyes firmly on her back as you pass by the man. You don’t know if he looked up, or if he could sense the reason for your sudden departure—you’ve never left the shop before him until now—and you don’t want to know.

Neither of you talk until you’re well down the street and around the corner. “That wasn’t necessary,” you huff, your hands still sweating from the spiked adrenaline at suddenly being rushed out.

“Yes it was! We all know bloodsuckers and all these other weirdos are dangerous...even if they think they’re being well-intentioned by living among humans. I hope you don’t go back there.”

“Whatever...you’re the one who told me to visit the café,” you mumble, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. You both know very well she can’t tell you where to go, but you hope she doesn’t mention this to your other acquaintances on campus and make it into a bigger deal than it is.

When you part ways with your friend and get back to your dorm, you realize you’re missing your planner. The planner with all your upcoming assignment dates in it. You sigh heavily and roll your eyes, knowing it must’ve happened in the chaos of her pulling you out of the shop. Maybe if you’re really lucky, it’ll still be there, picked up by an employee or simply left untouched. Knowing how many people go through that café in a day, you’re not optimistic.

For the first time since visiting the quaint little shop, you’re not anticipating returning and seeing the man again, afraid he’ll ignore you or look at you with distaste—like you’re just another unsympathetic human. And would he be wrong to think that? You’re only strangers to each other.

You try not to dwell on it too hard when you go to bed that night.

When lunch rolls around the next day, you hesitate a couple times on your way to the café, not wanting to show up. However, the desire to see what became of your planner pushes you forward. You don’t even have to stay; if it’s there, you’ll take it and leave. If it’s not—oh well. You can still leave. It’s not hard to buy another.

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

He nods at you when you step inside, though he doesn’t smile as he’s become accustomed to doing. You nod back, but you can’t ignore the renewed rush of embarrassment you feel. You linger at the entrance for a second longer, wondering if maybe you should say something. Apologize, even? But what if he really didn’t know what was going on yesterday? Then how odd would you look for bringing it up?

You decide to move on and go back to the booth to search for your belongings, but his voice stops you. This takes you by surprise.

“Did you come back for this?”

You turn to him to see him holding your planner in his hand. You stare, momentarily dumbfounded, and almost shake your head before realizing it is yours. Definitely the same sticker-covered, scribbled-all-over planner.

“Oh—y-yeah. Thank you.” He passes it to you, though you notice he’s very careful not to let your hands touch. You’re a little perplexed about why, but then the rumors about vampires having cold skin pop up in your mind. Maybe that’s actually true, too. “I usually don’t lose things so easily, but…” Your voice falters, and you don’t know how to finish that sentence without bringing up the other day’s events.

He doesn’t seem to mind as he replies, “It happens to all of us sometimes...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my camera.”

“You take pictures?” you ask, a tinge of curiosity in your voice.

He nods. “I take photos of anything that interests me. Which often ends up being everything I see. I work at an art museum, so I guess having an eye for photography comes in handy.” He hesitates for a second, then says, “I could show you some?” He waves his phone, indicating that the photos are there.

“Oh, sure.” The man gestures for you to sit down in the empty chair in front of him, and you do so. He swipes through his phone a few times until he settles on what he’s searching for, then puts the device on the table and slides it to you. You lean forward to look at it and see that it displays an album full of pictures, simply titled with the emoji “🌌.”

“It’s okay, you can pick it up.” He chuckles. You pick up the phone and swipe through the numerous pictures. Many of them are nighttime shots of the moon, trees, half-empty streets, darkened storefronts. Others depict nature scenes at sunset or the beginning of sunrise, with the sky colored in darker hues. No matter what the subject matter is, they all look to be professionally taken, even for an iPhone.

“Wow, these are nice. You said you work at a museum…are you a professional photographer, too?”

The man shrugs, and as you look at his slight grin, you realize you still don’t know his name. “Something like that, I guess.”

“You should be if you aren’t already,” you say, looking through more photos. “I’m sure you’d make a lot of money.” When you reach the end of the album, you go to hand the phone back to him but realize he’ll probably want to avoid contact again, so you slide it across the table. He takes it and slips it into his pocket.

“I don’t really care about the money,” he responds. “I just like it because…” He trails off, unsure how to convey his thoughts, wondering if he should even get that personal with a stranger. “It...helps me pass the time.” He’s not quite satisfied by that answer—it doesn’t feel like enough—but it’s all he can think of on the spot.

“Well, that’s nice too. It’s always good to have a hobby just for the sake of it...not for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

“Do you have one?” He takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t expect to be asked about your own interests, and your mind goes blank as you try to think. Why does this always happen when I’m asked these kinds of questions?

“Um, just different things here and there.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, amused.

“It’s not that, I just don’t have a ton of hobbies or anything. I’m kinda boring, so…” And wasn’t allowed to do much of anything until I left home.

“Being boring isn’t always a bad thing.”

You lean back in your seat, shrugging slightly. “Maybe if you see it that way. My friends don’t.”

“Would one of those happen to be the same one who dragged you out of here yesterday?” He speaks casually, putting his cheek in his hand. You slump further down in your seat, feeling exposed. Of course there was no escaping this topic. He notices your mood shift and shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel so bad about it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry for all that mess,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. “Really, I am.” You stand up from the seat, gripping your planner. “Thanks again for this. I don’t want to take up any more of your time today.” You’re about to turn to leave when he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know…you could talk with me whenever you feel like it.” That’s the last thing you expect him to say. His voice takes on a quality that’s...not what you’d call begging, but it’s clear he’d enjoy some company. Maybe he’s doing this for your benefit as well as his own, because it’s obvious how your eyes always stray to his little corner.

You nod, giving him an apprehensive smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

The rest of your day after that is uneventful, full of classes and unexciting lectures, but you keep thinking of one thing. Though he appears to enjoy his time in the coffee shop, how lonely must he really be? There’s never anyone else around him. His eyes when he’d spoken to you held a certain sadness.

And you still didn’t get his name.

You don’t see him for the next few days, mostly because you aren’t at the café. You’ve gotten busy with a new project and haven’t had as much time to return to the coffee shop, mostly spending your time in the library instead.

When you finally get a chance to buy lunch outside campus, he’s not there. This disappoints you more than you thought it would, and you wonder what his absence means. Did he just decide not to come today, or has he found another place to frequent? You kind of hope the second option isn’t the case, though you also don’t know why you’re even caring this much about where someone else goes on their own time.

You get a drink to-go this time, deciding you’ll just take it back to the library and continue your studies there. The entryway bell rings behind you as you wait for your order to be made, though you don’t pay it much attention; half of your mind is still occupied with what you need to do next for your project.

When you turn around to leave the shop with your drink, you’re surprised to see the man standing there, waiting to get his own coffee. “You’re late,” you blurt out. You immediately feel silly for saying it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He gives you a slight smile. “Yes, I am.” Then he spots your to-go cup. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, well,” you glance at your drink, “are you staying?”

He nods as he steps up to the counter. “Yeah, I’m staying. My offer’s still open, by the way.”

Right. The offer to talk to him sometimes. You’re tempted to stay awhile and talk to him now, though you don’t even know what about. Your project? That’s boring. Him being a vampire? Too invasive. Your school? Also boring, and probably not the best idea considering which one you attend.

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

You both sit at his usual table, with you grinning nervously.

“How are you? I noticed you hadn’t showed up in a while,” he asks, settling back in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine, I’m just busy with school stuff. These teachers don’t give us a break.” You laugh a little, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He grins. “I never did go to college, but I’ve always heard others talk about how tiring it is. And expensive.”

“They’re right.” You roll your eyes at the thought of it. “But I guess it’ll all be worth it in the end. Maybe. If the economy isn’t in the toilet.” The sound of his laughter is nice, and you’re glad you could make him laugh. “Also, I’m sorry—I don’t know how this flew under the radar, but I don’t know your name.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to apologize for, really. It’s Johnny.”

You tell him your name, too. “Since I haven’t seen you lately...how are you doing?” You circle your hands around your to-go cup, feeling its warmth transfer to your palms as you await his answer.

“I think I can say I’m the same as always—which is fine. Life slows down a little when you have a lot of time on your hands.” Johnny’s lips quirk up at that, and you think he might be referring to his vampirism. Your eyes widen a little.

“What’s that like? Having so much free time. I wouldn’t know much about that right now, but…”

“Maybe not as pleasant as you think it’d be. But there’s good in it. Like coming and going when you want to. And you can take up whatever interests you want without worrying as much about busy schedules.” You already know he’s alluding to his photography. “I do like having a job, though…it gives me structure.”

“You’re probably right…I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I had a ton of free time…like, which hobbies to pick up first.” You consider how you initially thought about him being lonely and wonder if that’s one of the unpleasant parts he hinted to. “Speaking of hobbies...did you take any new pictures lately?”

Johnny nods. “Most of them were on my camera this time, but some are on my phone. You want to see?”

“Yes!”

Johnny lets you have his phone again to look through the newest pictures he’s taken. There are varying shots of car-lined streets and storefronts, some of the latter decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns for the onset of October. A pigeon sits on a streetlamp during the daytime, holding its head up like royalty upon a throne. In another image, a stray cat and her kittens huddle in an alley, the babies grooming each other while the mother looks quizzically at the camera.

You recognize a few photos from the nearby park; he also had some pictures of it the last time you looked. “Do you go to this park often?”

“Yeah, it offers some great shots. It’s especially pretty if you go just before the sun sets...the light filters through the tree leaves and it looks kinda like a kaleidoscope.”

“Ah, I’ve never seen that before…” you say a little sadly. Your parents didn’t much like taking you to that park when you were younger because of how far it is from their house. And since living away from them, you’ve only been able to visit it during the early hours of the day—like now.

Johnny looks closely at you. “Would you ever want to?”

“If it’s as pretty as you say, I should.” You slide the phone back across the table to him, not catching what he’s trying to hint at as you keep talking. “Do you go anywhere else besides here and the park?” As soon as you say it, you realize this might sound a little rude and try to make a quick save. “I mean, do you have any other favorite places? I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life or anything!”

Johnny laughs at your slight panic at thinking you’ve offended him. “Nothing too out-there, I guess. The bookstore, the photography store, the theater. Pretty much all the same places others visit.”

“The movies are fun.” You trace your finger across the table’s surface, thinking of your own favorite spots. “Me and my friends like to go downtown. There are a lot of cute little shops down there…”

You and Johnny talk for a while longer, and you almost forget you have to get back to campus until you glance at the wall clock. “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” Flustered, you jump out of your seat and crumple your empty cup. “Sorry to cut it short, Johnny, but I gotta go back now.”

He smiles good-naturedly and nods, his dark bangs sweeping his face. “I understand.” As he watches you gather your things and get ready to go, he speaks up again. “Actually, if you want to see the park at sunset sometime...I could show you? It’s up to you.”

You pause, suddenly curious at the thought of seeing him outside the café. In the back of your mind, you feel a little paranoid and afraid of your friend or maybe even your parents seeing you there with him, though the latter is extremely unlikely. It’s hard to shake that familiar fear of judgment and ostracism when it’s been ingrained in you since childhood. “That sounds good. If it’s not any trouble for you…?”

“Never too much trouble. I usually get off around 4 on Fridays, just before the sun sets at 5. Unless the weekend is better for you?”

You nod, holding your books tighter to your chest. “Friday will work for me! I’ll meet up with you then.”

Johnny smiles. “Great; I’ll see you then, kind stranger.”

Maybe he says it to be joking or quirky, to sound like one of those characters in a movie or drama, but it makes you smile. Nodding to him again, you step out of the café and rush towards the direction of your school. Johnny watches as you retreat, your roles reversed.

You meet up with Johnny at the park that Friday, just as you both agreed. You spot him sitting on a bench near the park entrance, waiting on your arrival.

Johnny’s wardrobe is still mostly dark, but it’s a little lighter than usual today. He’s changed things up with a white polo shirt underneath his black sweater. Seeing him dressed like this, you wonder what he’d be like as a student, or maybe even a university professor.

He stands up when you get closer, hearing the sound of your footsteps approaching and turning towards you. His camera sits safely around his neck, the lens catching in the light of the sun.

When you stop in front of him, he smiles at you warmly. You try to relax into the genuineness of that smile and ignore the still-lingering traces of anxiety about being out with him. “Hi, Johnny!”

“Hi, Y/N.”

You and Johnny walk around the park as he looks for something interesting to shoot. He snaps a few shots of the trees, fallen leaves, bushes, and other natural elements along the way, though it seems like he hasn’t quite captured what he wants yet.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you ask, peering at his camera as he holds it in his hands.

“There’s an aster bush around here,” he responds. “It hadn’t fully bloomed yet the last time I was here, but it should be open by now.”

It turns out he’s right as you two finally come up on the bush. Its blooms make bright purple smudges against the rest of the landscape, which is a monochrome red-and-orange palette from the leaves changing their hues. You watch as he comes up to the bush carefully and quietly, like it’s a small animal he’s afraid to scare away. Johnny is very attentive while taking pictures of it, always conscious of getting the correct lighting and securing the exact angles he wants to capture. “Compassionate” is not a word you’d usually associate with the act of taking photos, but that’s the only word you can currently think of to describe this display. He treats the flowers with a peculiar sense of respect, as if they’re a human subject.

After he’s gotten the images he wants, Johnny offers you his camera to take a few of your own. You’re anxious about holding his prized possession and are afraid you’ll find a way to mess something up, but he promises you it’s fine. You take a few shots of the sky, still with a few wisps of clouds left, and a nearby tree that’s almost stripped bare of leaves. You know the shots will probably end up blurry from your unsteady hands, but Johnny tells you you’ve done a good job anyway.

Something about getting his approval makes a pleasant warmth settle in your chest.

As you both walk down a long trail, you finally ask him, “Sorry if this is invasive, but I was wondering how old are you? Like...as a vampire.” Your voice becomes hesitant on the word vampire, even though you’re the only two in this part of the park.

He chuckles a bit. “I’m 85.” You try not to look surprised. “I’ve been turned for 60 years. Old, but probably a little younger than most vampires you’d think of.”

“Kinda,” you say quietly. “They’re always like 2,000 years old in movies.”

“The ancient vampires are purebloods. They keep to themselves and avoid mingling with turned vampires, let alone humans. Some people are even skeptical if they exist. Supposedly, they use humans as servants or blood banks.” He gives you an apologetic look after saying this, though you don’t really know why. You don’t get the feeling he’d do that to another being, but he is still mostly a stranger... “At least, that’s what my mentor told me.”

Your curiosity is roused at all this new knowledge. “You had a mentor?”

“An older woman. She was also a turned vampire.”

“Turned, huh…”

Johnny nods, toeing at a small pile of leaves on the ground. “She went away eventually, said people are meant to pass in and out of each other’s lives. I don’t think she ever had intentions to stay. But I enjoyed her company while she was there.” Johnny stops at a short bridge above a small manmade lake, and you both look down into the water.

You place your arms on the bridge railing so you can lean over more. You notice he doesn’t have a reflection in the water, and this startles you more than you expected. Before meeting this strange man, you’d never thought much before about why vampires don’t have mirror reflections, but it seems even more unnatural to see this phenomenon happen again in the lake.

You find yourself looking at the side of Johnny’s face, trying to read his expression as he peers into the water’s depths. He turns to you, and you flinch at being caught staring, but he only smiles slightly. You force yourself to form words and break the silence. “What—what did you do after she left?”

“Lived on my own. She taught me a lot of things to help me live independently as a vampire, so it wasn’t too difficult to get along without her...but emotionally? A different story.”

“You sound like you had a very close relationship with her.”

“Yes. Quite close…” Johnny’s tone suggests something deeper, more intimate than a regular friendship. You feel a bit astounded at the idea of him having an older, more worldly lover while being only a newly changed vampire. Your reaction makes you feel foolish, inexperienced. Still, you can’t help imagining a scenario of them living in a big, dark mansion somewhere in the mountains, rolling around in a bed with bloody red sheets—and maybe drinking from the occasional naïve, misled human hiker.

Strangely, too, you feel jealous at his freedom, his ability to go wherever and do whatever with whoever he wants without overbearing relatives always just a step away.

You continue staring at the ripples as they circle in and out of the water’s surface, the motions triggered by a small orange leaf falling into the lake. You’re unsure of what could be the right thing to say to his admission, so you blurt out whatever comes to mind next. “You said she taught you to live independently as a vampire. What does that mean? How do you get...you know. Blood?”

“There are ways,” Johnny says cryptically, which makes your own blood rush faster. He turns to you with a grin, like he finds your naivety endearing. “It’s nothing drastic, though. At least, not for me. I never drink directly.” It does make sense that there are other ways to drink human blood without taking it straight from their necks, though you can only speculate on which methods he prefers. “Drinking directly is lethal, and often not worth it.”

“So, it’s true that vampire bites can kill?” You watch as Johnny pushes himself off the railing, and you follow him as he continues down the trail.

“It’s not false. But it’s never really that simple.” Johnny’s answer is mysterious, and he doesn’t elaborate further. He turns to you. “Where did you hear that, anyway? Your university? The one that bans all nonhuman beings?”

“You know where I go to school?” You feel embarrassed, thinking he must assume you’re like the rest of the student body who hates nonhumans but still nurtures an odd obsession with them.

“I saw it on your notebook one day, the school insignia. I’m not a stalker, by the way.” You laugh only slightly, and Johnny seems crestfallen when he notices your apprehension. “I don’t care if you attend school there. Just because you do doesn’t mean you think the way they do.”

“You must think I’m some weird opportunist, then,” you mutter, heat finding its way to your face. “Asking you all these questions...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think anything except that you’re a pleasant person to be around.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting the compliment sink in. You think you should probably give him one of his own, but before you can, he says, “Look. The sun’s already setting.” Just like he told you before, the dying rays filter through the tree leaves and create impossibly intricate patterns on your surroundings. You hold your hand out and watch the latticework that the leaves create dance over your open palm.

You let Johnny take a picture of your hand with the tree shadows flitting over it, but you shy away from the camera’s lens when he points it higher to your face, a questioning look in his eyes. “Maybe some other day.”

You walk around for a while longer until the sky bleeds into a dark purple. “I guess I should be going soon. It’s getting late,” you say, though you’re also a bit sad over your evening with Johnny meeting its end.

“Do you want me to take you back to campus? You shouldn’t walk back alone. My car is just in the parking lot there.” He points to it where it sits in the distance.

You look at Johnny with a confused gaze. “But you can’t come on campus. They have...things to ward off vampires.” Like gates made of pure silver, displaying intimidating, elaborately designed crosses. You don’t know if any of it actually works, but it’s probably better not to find out.

Johnny doesn’t seem bothered by this information. “Yeah…I know. I can just drop you at the street across from the main gate.”

You hesitate a moment longer but eventually agree. He is right; you’d rather not walk alone at night, and getting a ride with him is better—and cheaper—than calling for a rideshare.

The ride to the college is fairly quiet, with the radio filling the silence. It’s not an awkward type of stillness, at least, which you’re grateful for.

As he said he would, Johnny parks on the side of the street that sits in front of the main gate, just outside the immediate vicinity of the campus. The metal crosses stare back at the both of you, glinting in the light of nearby streetlamps. You turn your face away from them, biting the inside of your cheek.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. I guess I’ll see you back at the shop next week, yeah?” Again, you get the urge to say something, anything, to remedy or cover up the foreboding source of discomfort sitting just in front of you, but there’s no one sentence you could say to wipe away decades of hatred.

Johnny nods and smiles, and still he shows no signs of being disturbed. He doesn’t cast another glance at the gates. “It’s no problem. See you then.”

You get out of his car and cross the street to get inside the gate; it’s early enough in the evening for it to still be open. Any later, and it’d be locked shut to even humans. You risk another wave at him before turning back around and heading for your dorm, which sits a few yards from the entrance. Johnny lets the car idle on the side of the street until you’ve walked into the dorm, and only then does he drive away.

It doesn’t take very long for you to warm up to Johnny inviting you to other places. The next time you and him go somewhere other than the coffee shop, you accompany him as he buys some film for his camera on one of his free days. You don’t know a ton about photography, so you’re more than happy to let him tell you all about how film works and why he buys certain kinds over others.

The place he frequents is a specialty photography shop that still carries older varieties of film—ones that fell out of favor once digital cameras became a thing. The store looks noticeably old, but not in an unkempt or decrepit way. You can tell it’s been around for a while, holding all kinds of history in its structure.

“There are so many different types.” You look over a shelf of film rolls in awe. “How can you tell them all apart?”

Johnny laughs. “It gets easier if you’ve been doing it for a while…or a few decades.” He picks one up from a row of them and holds it in front of you. “35mm is the most common type, which is what you’ll find the most of when you look through any film shop. That’s what I use.”

He sets that one down and walks past another display of film rolls, gesturing toward them. “There’s also 120 and 220 film formats here…those work for even older cameras, sorta like ones you’d see in 1930s movies. You can even turn a film camera into a digital camera.”

You nod to his words, looking over what seems like millions of film canisters—and occasionally glancing at the lines of his broad back as he walks ahead of you. “You should teach a photography class. I’d be more willing to listen to you than some old professor.”

Johnny snickers. “Huh, I don’t know. Not a professor, but I am old.”

You both continue walking through the store, with Johnny giving you the rundown on every item that catches your interest.

Like the coffee shop, there’s another mirror in this store. Many more, actually—there are whole rows of them on a series of shelves, all in varying sizes and shapes. They create a fragmented view of your form as you stand in front of them, though you don’t initially realize you’ve crossed into their glassy line of sight. You’re busier with looking at a roll of film Johnny’s handed you. When you notice your reflection shifting in your peripheral view, you look up.

Johnny’s only a few feet behind you, and you know this because you can hear him and feel his presence. Yet, it’s strange to see yourself as the only person in the aisle.

Eventually, he notices what’s got you preoccupied and comes to stand next to you. Though you see him clearly in front of your eyes, there’s no trace of him in the glass reflections.

Suddenly, you’re hit with the aching loneliness of it—how it must feel to never see yourself. You can see him with your own eyes, and so can everyone else who encounters him, but what must it be like to be virtually invisible outside of other peoples’ perceptions of you? You almost feel utterly alone even though you know he’s beside you.

Noticing your sudden melancholy, Johnny takes the film roll from your hand and tosses it up in the air, making it look like it’s moving on its own in the mirrors. He means to lighten the mood, if only to see the cloudiness disappear from your expression. It works to a degree, though you still feel downcast deep below.

“It’s not good to dwell on it.” Johnny presses the film roll back into your hand, still carefully avoiding skin contact. He has no problem meeting your eyes, though, and you shyly look away from his dark gaze after a few prolonged moments.

“You’re right,” you say softly, turning back to the aisle and away from the rows of mirrors.

—

You and Johnny head to the coffee shop after your trip to the photography store. Once you get your drinks and sit down in your usual spot, he speaks suddenly. “Something’s wrong.”

Your eyes dart around the shop, thinking he’s referring to one of the patrons around you. “What? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out a bit panicked. He doesn’t want to laugh, but he does.

“No, I mean...something’s wrong with you. You seem far away.”

“Oh…” You wonder if you should even bring it up and potentially ruin the mood. But you have been curious for weeks now, and you don’t think you’ll get a trustworthy answer by asking anyone other than him. “I just...I was wondering why you don’t have a reflection. I know it’s a vampire thing, but I’ve never really known why...you don’t need to answer, though. Like you said, it’s not good to dwell on it.”

Johnny makes a motion like a half-nod once your question is revealed, his eyes darting to the window and back to the table. His fingers trace across the rim of his coffee cup, a thoughtful but stormy expression on his face, and you’re afraid you shouldn’t have reawakened this topic. “You know...being undead means being in two places at once.”

“Two places?”

“We are caught between the living world and the world of the dead. Something that’s not really supposed to exist, yet…” He’s quiet for a moment. “You can only imagine the kind of issues and side effects that can cause. One of them being no reflection.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you say. “Two planes of existence...what does it mean to be a part of the world of the dead?”

“Our blood runs slower. Ours is more like sludge compared to yours. The heart beats only a few times per minute. Don’t need to eat or sleep, either, though many vampires still do.” Johnny pauses. “How much do you really know about vampires?”

“I don’t know much about any of this...stuff.” You gesture vaguely, meaning all supernatural beings and not just vampires. “No one ever told me these things growing up, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction at school. People will say anything, horrible things, and you just take it at face value, I guess. I never really thought to try to find the reality.” You sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know anything.”

“Learning is good. You can always learn. I don’t think it’s too late for that.” Johnny’s voice is a little lighter. “Anyway, everyone’s knowledge is different. Sometimes it slips my mind that everyone doesn’t know what it’s like to live as a vampire, though the world never lets me forget for long.”

“Then…do you hang out with other vampires who do understand? Or…maybe humans who can sympathize?”

Johnny gives a humorless laugh. “Most humans are hesitant to interact with us, if not full-out terrified or disgusted. At the museum...it’s less pronounced because all the employees already know. They…tolerate it. But every time someone else realizes what I am and doesn’t take well to it?” He shakes his head, acts like he’ll say something else, and then abandons that line of thought. “And do you really think I’d want to spend my free time around other bloodsuckers?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but you’re more inclined to think he actually feels that way. You can only nod, feeling bad for him but also a little disturbed by his view of his own kind.

“I think you’re a kind person, and you being a vampire doesn’t affect that,” you say hesitantly. “I like talking to you. And even if you feel that way about other vampires, I…wish you wouldn’t feel that about yourself.”

Johnny remains quiet, but he nods. You wonder about the struggle occurring in his mind. The only outward hint of his uneasy state shows in the furrow of his eyebrows and the tense set of his mouth. With his right hand resting on the table, he rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, like he’s analyzing your words. You have a sudden and startling desire to hold his hand, to twine your fingers together and feel his skin on yours for the first time, but you don’t dare cross that boundary.

He finally replies with, “You’re much kinder to me, an old and bitter vampire, than you probably should be. But maybe that’s a good thing about you.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” you agree, your voice low. “Every living being needs companionship. Good companionship, anyway.”

The corners of Johnny’s lips shift in something reminiscent of a smile. He turns a rueful gaze once again to the window, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “Aren’t I lucky to have yours, then.”

On a day when you don’t have as many responsibilities to juggle, you visit Johnny at the art museum after his working hours are up. He’d already invited you to come to the museum any day you felt like so he could show you around. 

When you get there, he’s waiting in the visitor’s lobby for you, framed by receding sunlight as the day starts fading into night. He looks the same as he always does when you see him in the café on his lunch breaks, but within the context of the museum, he suddenly seems more…alive? Vibrant? He could’ve served as a muse for one of the many statuesque, perfectly proportional sculptures in the museum, and you’d never know anything different.

Your heartbeat increases at the sight of him, just enough to be outside the normal range.

“Hi, Johnny. I hope your day went well?”

“It was fine, nothing too crazy. But it’s better now.” And he smiles at you, sincere enough to make your heart ache.

“Oh—that’s great.” That’s it? You scold yourself internally, but you aren’t quick enough to think up a witty reply to his comment before the topic shifts.

“Is there anything in particular you wanna see first?” Johnny asks, leading you further into the museum.

“I guess I hadn’t thought too deeply about that…do you have a favorite exhibit? I want to see what you like.”

Johnny smiles faintly. “Let’s see, then.”

The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.

There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.

“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”

You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”

He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”

If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.

You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”

“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.

The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.

“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.

“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.

—

You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.

After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”

When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.

This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.

Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”

“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”

“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.

“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”

—

You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.

“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.

“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.

Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.

—

When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.

He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.

When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.

That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.

He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.

Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.

You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.

You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.

Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.

Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.

“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.

Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.

Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.

There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.

He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.

“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.

“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”

“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.

Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.

“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”

You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”

Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”

You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”

Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”

You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.

“Lately, I’ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”

You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.

Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”

“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.

After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.

“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”

You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”

—

The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.

“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.

“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”

“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”

You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.

Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.

You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.

You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.

“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.

“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.

“What?”

“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.

“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”

He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.

Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”

—

Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.

You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.

Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”

Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight. 

Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.

You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.

The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.

“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.

“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”

You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.

Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.

“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”

You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”

When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.

The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.

After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.

Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.

You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.

To: Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party

You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.

However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.

From: Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏

You smile at that.

To: I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.

From: 🦷🩸

—

You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.

He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.

“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”

Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.

He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”

“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”

Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”

You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”

“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.

It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.

“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.

“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.

“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”

Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”

“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”

“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”

This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.

“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.

Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.

Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.

The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.

At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”

You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.

“Is that okay with you?”

“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.

“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.

You want to hear him say it again.

Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”

“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.

When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.

“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.

“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.

“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”

Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”

There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”

Johnny’s lips part. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.

His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.

“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.

This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.

Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.

You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.

You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.

Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.

“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.

Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”

“I want to, Johnny.”

With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.

You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.

Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.

More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.

Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.

It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.

“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.

Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.

The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.

“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”

“Please.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.

“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.

“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.

His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”

As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.

When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.

“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I-it’s okay.”

Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.

“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.

Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.

If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.

You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.

As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.

He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.

“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.

You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”

Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.

When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.

With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.

Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”

Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.

Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.

Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.

Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.

“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”

Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.

The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.

When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.

—

Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.

You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.

“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”

Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.

Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.

[nabrizoya]

honestly would LOVE to hear your thoughts on the nikolai duology because i really only see blanket praise or blanket hate for it whereas I see a lot of wasted potential. Bardugo's actual writing was beautiful as ever for the most part, but the choice of the plot/beats feels baffling to me. I love Nina, but her parts felt so separate from the rest of the book until the very end, and even that felt off. I liked the first 2/3 of KoS enough, dealing with the monster, political tensions, 1/2

and even the cult of the starless saint was at least interesting because dealing with people trying to rewrite the narrative of their greatest enemy (who hurt these young leaders in deeply PERSONAL ways) was really compelling (making him literally come back was. a choice) but I feel like somewhere in the last third, KoS went in a wholly differeent direction, and RoW has this vibe of feeling like she definitely wrote it after reading the show scripts or even seeing some footage. idk. 2/2

I will try to be brief (1/12)

Hey anon! Thank you so much for asking this even though it took 38756588247834 years to answer this I’m so sorry !! The Nikolai duology was good—wonderful too maybe because of the myriad of themes and topics it discussed and explored, all in addition to how beloved these characters are. For me, it’s the end of KoS as it is for you, and the entirety of RoW in particular that irk me the most.

I have very little issue with KoS, and I agree with everything you’ve said. The political tensions, the sort of urgency in trying to secure a country at the cost of personal reservations, preparing for a war that seems unforgivably near the door, etc. was all thrilling. After all, it is the first installment in the duology, and it’s supposed to set the course for the upcoming books.

KoS managed to introduce the stakes and the circumstances, lay the rails for what the characters will face and what it might mean to a vast set of entities connected to the events. And it’s hardly out of sense to expect Rule of Wolves to pick up where the previous book left off and carry forward the themes and plot points introduced in the first book.

Except, RoW failed spectacularly in that aspect.

Rule of Wolves: the second book, and the supposed finale to the Grishaverse and the Nikolai duology; it fails to continue the other number of threads that KoS set up for it, effectively compromising the characters, their characterizations, the themes and other political tensions and stakes. The due importance that should be given to the heavy set of topics that get brought up in the povs are not through, nor are the small details that Leigh added to the conversations evolve into something worth talking about, which are the actual points that could have been given some more page time to explore than just making them facts or points of nostalgia for the characters.

If you take a step back and analyze the whole timeline, events, characterization, objectives of the arcs and the plot points etc. etc., all the way from Crooked Kingdom to Rule of Wolves, there’s so much that is left out and tied in, quite haphazardly, which leads me to believe that Leigh wanted to attempt writing a duology that is more plot-driven than it is character driven. And we know that Leigh writes character driven stories brilliantly, and SoC, CK and TLoT are testament to the same. Heck, even TGT has more consistency than whatever TND has.

So, objectively? Plot possibilities? Characterization? Potential? Personal goals? Addressing the very serious themes it brought up, in little or major light, but give no proper elaboration about them?

The lost potential readily compromised the characterizations of many characters, and it all amounted to their arcs being very underwhelming.

I’m dividing this into four parts and here’s the basic outline.

Writing and Plotting

The Plot, Possibilities and Potential.

Characters, Characterization, Character Potential.

Remedy (what I think would've worked better to tie this all up)

This can get very looong, so be forewarned.

I. Writing & Plotting

Now, Leigh Bardugo’s writing is exceptional, no doubt. The sentences are short and flowy, and convey the tone, psyche, environment and the setting and its effects on the pov character marvellously. It's also immersive. It’s the same in Rule of Wolves, except, a little or a lot weaker.

The two main parts of this is that one, that Leigh slightly overdid showing a lot more than telling, and two, that the RoW (and perhaps KoS too), was more plot driven than character driven, the latter of which is actually Leigh’s strength.

In Rule of Wolves, Leigh’s writing seemed very choppy and snappish. The descriptions were lacking, or maybe that’s just me wishing for more internal conflict and dilemma, and going back and forth in one's own head for a bit. It felt like she showed more than she told.

Example being how Zoya ‘snaps’, ‘drawls’, ‘scoffs’, or ‘scowls’ less, and even if that’s supposed to be show Zoya beginning to be a little less unpleasant than she usually is, the tone in those chapters was not strong enough to distinguish how and why the character was acting a certain way. Nor pinpoint an explanation on what brought that change about. (And there were many instances like this with many other characters), which resulted in the characters themselves feeling so off to me.

Leigh’s characters are important to the story. They carry tremendous weight and actively contribute to the plot. Except, by focusing a lot more on the plot, some parts of these characters’ relevance was not up to the mark. It is greatly due to how weak the plotting and pacing of the book was, tbh, more than just her writing.

Consider: Mayu Kir Kaat. She is integral to the story, but she is thrust into responsibilities, and that doesn’t give us much time to see her as a person, and then as a person with a duty, like we see with most other characters. Whatever parts of her we did see were very circumstantial and timed, which is probably the reason why not many we’re unable to appreciate Mayu as much as we should. (Maybe fandom racism also plays a part, so, well,,,).

Like, we know from Six of Crows and with The Language of Thorns, how great care went into describing the characters’ state of mind, which further heavily influenced their choices and decisions. This time though, I think she wanted it to be more plot driven, hence the whole crowded feeling of the book and general worry about oh my god too much is happening, how will all this be solved and all that.

And this, I think, greatly hampered Leigh's writing, leading to unsettling and rather unsatisfying character arcs. Not to mention that there was quite little space given for the characters to develop or let them grow in a satisfying way which touches on most of the elements and themes that get brought up with regard to their powers and potential,,, and when it was indeed brought up, it was all in vain since they were never followed through.

That's one of the biggest problems for me in RoW: Plot points brought up in KoS were not brought forward in RoW.

II. The Plot, Possibilities and Potential.

Phew. Truly buckle up because this train has too many coaches. And to discuss them all, let’s keep the starting point as Crooked Kingdom.

a) Parem

Now, by the end of Crooked Kingdom, we know some important things about the parem.

It's dangerous asf for the Grisha who have to sacrifice their will and capabilities for a short time superpower high that they didn’t even ask for

Which means they are more often than not forced to consume the drug

Shu Han is the creator of the Parem and are also creating a new kind of soldiers called Khergud (who additionally require Ruthenium, but we’ll talk abt that later)

Fjerda snatched the formula after kidnapping Bo Yul-Bayur, keeping him away in the Ice Court and in their possession, and used the Parem to further their own heedlessly heinous agenda

I think it’s easy to understand how KoS started off on the right track, considering that Kuwei Yul Bo is mentioned, the antidote and jurda is brought up and so come the political tensions alongside it (what with the impending war, the demon, the lack of funds in the coffers and security and peace for the country alongside safety for the Grisha).

The point is, parem is a character of its own. CK was its inception, and its fate was decreed along with its lifespan and its doom. Ideally, by the end of RoW, parem should have been vanquished while addressing its nature as a deadly drug, the addiction and aftermath, and the key person who will guide the plot: Kuwei Yul Bo.

Parem is a political tool that pitted countries against each other, making one another their allies or enemies. (Though parem is not the only one factor). Ravka doesn’t yet know about Kerch’s neutrality. The Shu made their move to assassinate in the end, just as Fjerda cleared the air about their goals.

Point is, parem is weapon, a new kind of warfare that keeps getting alluded to in KoS. The first book gave a glimpse of how the Shu and Fjerda are using parem, thereby exploiting, prejudicing etc. the Grisha in their countries. Khergud whose humanity is washed away with parem + ruthenium, and the Fjerdan Grisha (are targeted) drugged and exploited while be subjected to torture, training and imminent death, parametres of these outcomes being severely gendered.

Ravka too wanted to weaponize it and create a usable strain that would still give the Grisha their powers but at a minimal cost, until Nikolai’s conversation with Grigori convinces him out of it and to use only the antidote for the Grisha.

And when are the contents of this conversation brought up again?

Never.

Another aspect of parem (that the conversation also covers) is this: that what was once merzost, parem is its strange cousin. Parem parallels breaking the bounds of Grisha norms unnaturally, while merzost takes it a step further to break the bounds of nature itself, which comes with a heavy price. They're both the same with little differences. Amplifiers are in tune with this discussion, hence the conversation between Zoya and Nikolai about how, and whether or not the abomination in him, the parem, and the amplifiers are tied together. This gets brought up again in the conversation with Grigori.

Parem parallels the superpowers, something that Zoya too manages to achieve once the corruption of the amplifier business is resolved, which makes her realize how in tune with nature the Grisha must be, and how limited the Grisha powers until then had been. And why the amplifiers were a corrupted piece of magic.

Zoya was supposed to be the conduit in that sense that she reversed the Grisha norms and understood the importance and nature of small science. This is alongisde parem getting abolished or resolved in the least, be given a redressal.

Yet instead in RoW, we barely see any of Zoya’s powers, nor even her experimentation and hunger for power which would give her protection. We don't see how she begins to realize that while power was indeed protection, it was also a responsibility. Not clearly, anyway.

So like, not only is this entire discussion thrown away in Rule of Wolves, but no matters are resolved either. Parem did not reach its end like it was supposed to. Merzost with regard to parem would have been an excellent thing to address, with or without the Darkling being present, because the blight is there. But that doesn’t happen.

What happens instead? We get one chapter of Grisha getting the antidote during the face off at the start of the book, the women in Fjerda are not brought up again and instead we jump to Shu Han. Kuwei is also conveniently forgotten because hey, the Zemeni are here so it’s all sorted!

RoW could have (should have actually) sought to address both the political and medical (?) aftermath and implications. Maybe it did succeed in showing the political side of it, with regard to Mayu, Ehri, Makhi and Tamar’s storylines. But that’s only in Shu Han, whose state of affairs we had NO idea of until RoW. No idea, so much that it was completely out of the blue.

And what we did know (get to know about in KoS) is Fjerda and the affairs there remained… unsolved.

(...sorry).

b) Grisha Powers

Re: From the conversation between Nikolai and Grigori, and Juris and Zoya, about how parem and the amplifiers are parallel to each other in terms of being abominations, a corruption of Grisha powers. Now the theory of it is not entirely explained, but we do know that the parem and whatever Zoya learnt from Juris was meant to move along in the same direction.

But we don't see another mention of it, except maybe we could dig a little deeper and realize that it all adds up because Zoya is the Grisha Queen of Ravka, Summoner, Soldier, Saint, all of it rushed and unnecessarily magical in a war so dire and realistic in RoW.

Welp.

c) Spy business

Just… genuinely what even was Nina up to in RoW? A spy, sure, but only to garner information on the pretender?

Why couldn’t there have been two responsibilities for her to uncover: the lies or truths about the pretender while the Apparat causes hindrances, and Nina trying to seek out more documents of the locations and labs where the Grisha women are being tormented and the other Grisha being weaponized? It could have been a leverage to discredit Fjerda in front of everybody in the Os Kervo scene. Imagine if Nina whipped out the documents of Grisha labs and brought the truth of the exploitation and killing and kidnapping etc. in front of the convention of all nations. All of it together would have upped the political tensions by quite the notch.

Even then, there’s a possibility that it wouldn’t matter either because the Grisha aren’t exactly valuable to all the nations. But killing and exploiting is still wrong so maybe it might have worked? Or see, even if it wouldn’t have, the slow and sluggish realization of Mila’s identity by Brum, and alongside writing it as a tragedy where Nina’s efforts seem to have gone to waste, or where Nina is telling Zoya about not accounting for Prince Rasmus’ word and she informs her about the documents she has snatched? Something could have been done here?

The point is, KoS focused on Fjerda and its unraveling, and it wasn’t continued with and through in Rule of Wolves. Instead it sought to find the problem in a whole new country, Shu Han, and fixed it within the same book leaving the other country as it is.

d) Ruthenium and the Blight

Ruthenium, the metal that is an alloy of regular metal and Grisha made steel, could have been utilized more significantly in the books.

I mention it in association with the blight because while on one hand it is true that the blight is an area full of nothingness, ruthenium as a metal could have been utilized to show the effects of rushed industrialization that is leading to the ground losing its essence. This is supposed to be advanced warfare after all. Besides, Makhi loses someone very dear to her. Perhaps ruthenium is more dangerous in Shu Han because the Shu use it to create the khergud, so the constant manufacturing of it has been leading to the metal leeching the lands of their fertility, along with the blight.

And so also to broker peace, Ravka could have provided aid in some ways. :

1) The Darkling sacrificed himself, as a result of which the blight vanishes. While the blight took away her niece, the possibility of a blight persisting despite the ending of RoW could be attributed to ruthenium.

2) Ravka could provide the reversing effect to the alloy of ruthenium and metal using Grisha and otkazt’sya engineering and ingenuity to replenish the lands.

All in addition to whatever will be Shu Han’s policies to bring lushness to their lands.

e) Women and War:

Holy fucking Shit, where do I start with this?

Whatever we saw in Fjerda was haunting, and we see it from Nina’s chapters. There’s literally no resolution for it, nor is it ever brought up again, at all. In Zoya’s chapters, we see through her eyes the brunt that Grisha faced with the war, and in a country that has refused to recognize Grisha as the citizens and considers them expendable.

Add to it her own narrative of how the women are never mentioned, let alone the ones that she has lost or has known to suffer, at the hands of the war, at the Darkling's torture and powers. The description of these women suffering, often being forgotten and thrown aside as mere casualties… where or when was it ever going to be brought up again?

Like, switching between such horrifying things happening in Fjerda to whatever was happening with Zoya and Nikolai and Isaak is such a contrast, horrifyingly demeaning and insulting, even more so when it failed to align with the importance of parem and offer a solution to both these problems.

Now switch to Rule of Wolves, where the Tavgahard women immolate themselves on Queen Makhi’s orders. Not only is that such a cheap and insensitive thing to do, it gets treated a simple fucking plot point in the book, and it barely gets addressed afterwards. Women in Asia have a vastly complex and complicated history with fire, and this is a serious criticism that culturally affects readers in personal ways. And what gets done about it? Fine, Zoya feels baaaad, sorry oops why would the women do that?!?!?

Where is the adequate sensitivity to the topic? Where is the continuation of the pain Zoya feels for many people, despite them being the enemy? How does she honour them? Where is all that dilemma and pain? Why does she not think of them or just get a line or two to talk about them?

Where is the due importance for this suffering given? Structurally and culturally?

f) Soldier, Summoner, Saint / Yaromir the Great

We never really get any explanation for why Zoya deserves to be the Queen, and why she is the best. But we do get to see why Nikolai isn’t the one supposed to be on the throne, and it’s not just because of his parentage but also because of his failings and doubts and the need for acceptance with the secrets he carried.

Here's the thing though; it’s not just about her showing mercy. It’s very subtle, and in good sense, should actually have been given a little bit more importance that be loosely brought up at random times.

Keeping aside the fact that Zoya is representative of Ravka—a woman, a Grisha, a Suli girl who changed the course of war and who knew what it was like living in poverty, being as an underprivileged person of the society in addition to the trauma from then and the state of living at her aunt’s place—which is meant to be covertly apparent, the other reason tracks back to Yaromir the First, who with the help of Sankt Feliks of the Apple Boughs—the one who raised the thornwood—lead Ravka at that time into the age of peace.

The Darkling testified that in his POVs, that while Feliks and Yaromir worked in tandem for Ravka, Aleksander worked for safeguarding the Grisha. In one sense, Zoya is supposed to reflect that moment in history in the present moment, except she is Queen and Sankta, and Grisha, all three at once.

It is brought up in one of the Darkling’s POVs and once in the conversation with Yuri in KoS. Other than that, we never actually get any more hints of this explanation in the text, which is the reason why the entire ending felt so so rushed, and like a fever dream, that even if it was a plot twist, it was kinda very baseless when it should have been more ohhhhh sort of a thing.

g) The Starless Cult and Saint Worship

This cult had immense potential to blossom into many things, some of which were indeed touched upon in KoS when Zoya says that she saw a bit of herself in Yuri, and brings up time and again how easily she’d been led and had not been aware enough of what’s right and wrong, just as she supposes Yuri is too. And to some extent, there is truth there, because in the Lives of Saints, we do see why Yrui comes about to hail the Darkling and how it parallels Zoya’s, of being helpless and ten being saved by a different power/ their own power, respectively.

That’s where it forks, that Zoya is older and realizes the path that Yuri has chosen and understands that it won't happen until he realizes it himself because the Darkling’s crimes are so obvious.

Even then, there’s still more potential: This cult could have been the mirror that would make Zoya reflect on the questionable methods of the Darkling, and the ways in which she might be mirroring them, despite or not it is the necessity because of the war. How she is training soldiers too, just as the Darkling did, and while the need to take children away from their homes just as soon as they were discovered Grisha was abolished, it was war, and they needed soldiers.

So like, there’s quite a big narrative going on here, how mere children are pushed into one path of becoming a soldier and the whole system that was that the Darkling followed to train the Grisha and all of that. All of this in addition to the juxtaposition to the Grisha being seen as elite despite them being hunted, and the people who are not Grisha frowning upon them. This is also the work of the Darkling, which actually paves the way to see how there can be a world where the Grisha are not feared or seen as abnormal, despite or not they are given a Saint-like narrative.

This cult could also have been the segue to discussing Yuri and his brainwashing, and the sort of cult-ish behaviour of believing in something firm when you couldn’t believe in yourself, or not seeing the magnitude of the crimes of their supposed Saint, alongside always staying focused on becoming a soldier only and never actually thinking beyond what is told.

Some of these are very subtle and some are brought up, but never given too much of an explanation.

Genya brings up another good point in the funeral chapter, about how Fjerda seemingly taking into the whole Saints thing could mean that if the Darkling moved there, he could very well sprawl his influence there to bring in supporters. Which leads to another discussion that gets brought up towards the end of the book: about Nina telling about the Ravkan Saints to Hanne and therefore to the Fjerdans,,, which doesn’t exactly sit right with me. It’s still a very nascent topic, and I think SoC3 will explore this path of faith and personal beliefs etc. but leaving it just there, while talking so much about Saints in both the countries,,, don’t exactly know how to put it into thoughts here.

But regardless, the cult of the Starless had different potential to talk of (blind) worshipping of an ideal without critically examining why the person must be put on the pedestal in the first place (and if it is simply power, then there is actually a narrative right there, which RoW gets right, about the people valuing the power still, as a result of which the monarchy still persists at the end of RoW. Even then, there’s more discussion awaiting there).

Not sure if any of this makes sense, but I’ll leave it at this here for now.

edit: 05/07/2021 | I think what I was trying to say here is that we do not have any kind of narrative evidence to seeing how and why it seems right that the Fjerdans will worship Ravkan Saints; is it merely because they are all Grisha? Or is it because of the segue explore this path of faith and personal beliefs and all of that, of the talk of the monastery and the Grisha there being of all identities, that a monastery is in Shu Han, that it has Djel's sacred Ash tree so far away from Fjerda... much to think about.

III. Characters, Characterization, Character Potential.

Mostly going to be about Nina and Zoya, but I’ll bunch up the rest of them at the end.

a) Nina

*head in hands*

I severely mourned how poorly Zoya was written in RoW, but then I realized that more than Zoya, it’s Nina whose potential was severely undermined and wasted. On one hand, I’m glad she uses her powers and quick thinking,observation and her own tactics to analyze the population and opt for the best way to make them see the truth she wants to show them (eg: making Leoni and Adrik and Zoya saints and also showing that the Grisha are the children of Djel via people’s belief to Joran and Rasmus’s mother).

But then, it’s like you said; her parts were so offbeat and outpaced and completely disjointed, when in fact, Nina is the thread that ties all the characters, their plotlines and potential, together. Nina is connected to Zoya and Hanne, two equally important characters and main characters of the duology. Whatever scope Nina has, they are greatly in parallel to Zoya and Hanne. And it’s all literally there, in the text! What a waste.

Though keeping aside these parallels, Nina’s own journey from Ketterdam to Ravka to Fjerda, while is spoken about, doesn’t touch some other parts that I see potential in. Or this is just meta.

Nina has grief not just from Matthias’ death but also from the loss of her powers as Heartrender. So much of the Second Army was built on being a soldier, and perhaps the Darkling was not outright disdainful of racial differences in his army, yet he still stripped every part of the children away until they weren’t children anymore in his view. They’re all soldiers… (albeit his soldiers, preparing them to do his bidding because hey, give and take right?). Nina was a soldier, and she is a soldier still under Zoya’s role as a General, but an ‘other’ of a soldier. That’s her only identity, and the loss of her powers means that she’s a different kind of soldier.

I imagine that this entire time, some small part of Nina longed for normalcy, or whatever settled as normal for a life like hers. In the sense that she wants to go back, but what is back and where exactly did she want to go back to? What was the before and after and where did things go wrong or change? There’s tragedy in the realization that whatever you were before what you became is not a place you can return to, and that’s a different kind of loss that she has to bear, and all by herself. She has powers over the dead now, a strange power she learns to grow to, but all the places she has been, all the lives she has led and people she had been, everything might seem like they’ve all been locked away in some strange place leaving her barren and indisposable.

She’s off to Fjerda as someone she isn’t, figuratively and literally. In KoS, Nina brings up many times how odd she feels as Mila and in some capacity longs to be Nina Zenik again. This ties in with the previous point of returning to somewhere, but where?, but is also a segue towards body dysmorphia, the thing that Nina and Hanne’s storylines parallel and connect too with in a small way. It’s a great line to follow to discuss what her discomfort with her body means to herself while it means something entirely different to Hanne, who is also not entirely comfortable being who they are. (This discomfort further which leads to gender dysphoria, while for Nina, it will be about learning to accept her powers. I’ll add on to this in a bit,).

I'm mourning the lost potential of that experience being a parallel to Hanne’s own feelings, of a discussion between people being uncomfortable with their bodies, something that can mean multitudes to each person and on their own accord.

In parallel to Zoya, I like to draw it from the fact about Nina wanting to go back to who she was, while Zoya actively tries to lock her past away and drown it somewhere or throw it to the storm, never to hear of it again. She has no identity other than being a soldier, and that’s enough for Zoya, because who she was before she was a soldier is not pleasant. But moving from being just another expendable shell of soldier under the Darkling’s rule, Zoya becomes the one third of the Triumvirate, and then the King’s general, all of which bring self-awareness of Zoya’s capabilities and challenges that are bound to excite her. But all of these also compel Zoya to be many other people to others as she slowly grows to realize that power is not just protection but also a responsibility, and it will inadvertently mean confronting her past of her lost identity, realizing the how of the Darkling, and how harmful it was. As Genya puts it perfectly in Rule of Wolves, that they were all taken away when they were young kids, not even barely children, and then thrust into responsibilities that didn’t allow them to be anything else other than what the Darkling told them to be.

Back to Nina; a few other great parts about Nina’s arc could have been about her connection to languages, as language being a mode of strengthening identity, in addition to growing to her powers. In RoW, there’s this line that goes ‘how sweet it was to speak her language [Ravkan] again’, and the feeling of homesickness. Like, Nina is trying to connect to Ravka through what she knows best—language, and then stories. In that, Nina realizes a part of her identity, which could also act as a segue to Zoya reclaiming her own heritage and ethnicity. Not only that but Zoya and Nina’s stories are literally so intertwined that it’s hard not to see how their choices and line of thought affect one another’s arcs, in the grief they have and how they choose to treat it, and also show why Zoya is particularly protective of Nina (and keeps wishing that she doesn’t become the monster Zoya had become, in the sense that Nina is more mature in handling her grief than Zoya was and the entire mercy plotline ties Nina, Zoya and even Genya together. More meta, haH).

And that’s why the ending doesn’t make sense. Even though the part about her not being comfortable as Mila is not brought up many times in the continuing chapters (and that’s why perhaps naming Nina’s discomfort as body dysmorphia may be wrong), there’s still the part of Nina readily accepting to be who she was a Mila and remain in Fjerda that seems iffy to me. Especially when Nina and Hanne literally a few chapters ago think about running away (it may be just another alternative they might be fantasizing about, but I think it still means that they both want to be their true selves without hiding any parts of it away). So her staying as Mila… well, it doesn’t exactly add up.

I’d also add the part of Nina’s story mirroring Leoni’s, and how she is from Novyi Zem and being a part of the Second Army meant that she had little to no connection with her past, her culture etc. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part that Leigh went for that arc.

edit: 05/07/2021 | I don't agree with my point anymore about Nina not having the kind of ending I assumed she might have, considering that it is very well possible for Nina to treat her identity as Mila as a fresh start, as a Grisha with a command over the the dead and begin a new normal that is suited for her. You can read more here.

b) Zoya

For one, white passing Zoya is not canon to me. I simply pretend I do not see it.

See, her race was handled very badly. Making her half-Suli was supposed to show the struggles and the trauma that the ridiculing of her identity by other people has caused to her. Except, not enough time nor text is given to thoroughly discuss it. Not to forget how problematic of a narrative in itself it is to make Zoya white passing.

It would have made more sense to make her dark skinned and predominantly Suli-looking than whatever yt bs she was put through. Her not being white-passing would have led to conversations about tokenization, or people caring little about her and not giving her any respect because she is Suli. Or being called beautiful to the face and praised just for it or a harmless tumble in their point of view.

So like, instead of making the ‘mistake’ of seeking for acceptance, seeking appreciation and love, from her mother at first and then the Darkling, Zoya instead makes herself someone to be feared, if respect was not what she deserved. The iciness is a part of her and has always been, but all of it soon became a shield, an armour that she vowed to harden her heart with. Just the sheer impact of this narrative and her reluctance, and seeing Nikolai love her for beyond who she thinks she is… if all of this was canon, I’m pretty sure I’d have built a shrine for this duology.

Let’s now talk about her grief, and...

…

Okay it’s not for me to point fingers at how Leigh chose to write about grief because there’s no one way or one proper approach to go through that pain, and if that’s how she chose to write about grief for Zoya, fine! But I really wish we’d have gotten a little more into her head to see how the trauma has affected her thoughts and how she struggles against why and what exactly it is that Juris wants her to do. That enough time and text was dedicated to Zoya’s feelings and the mayhem it caused her, as a result of which the dragon’s eye took its cue and made things more unbearable to her because she was the only one to bear them all.

Like, I feel like Zoya was overwhelmed throughout the book and in between she had some skyhigh responsibilities to discharge and it’s all so inconsistent and poorly woven,,, it completely dissolved her character from KoS and made it 10000000x more miserable for me to read her POVs. And honestly, what even were her assignments that the Kirkus review mentioned? Never an inch of text in RoW is given to decipher her complications of her mind, the muddled sense of hopelessness and fear that grips her time and again. Why overwhelm her so much that you fail to do her mental state and capacity any justice?

I’m not going to be harsh about how much David’s death bothered me-- no actually fuck that; what’s the point? Fine, he died. All because you wanted to make his death a plot device to make Zoya reconcile with loss and deal with it? Where was Genya’s grief? Literally no point of having a death in the book at all, and it didn’t even achieve anything. (I’m still trying to wrap my head around why David’s death was important and maybe if I find some straws, I’ll consider…)

There were so many other ways around it; could have brought back Lada and killed her off, or have the Darkling piss her off so badly or just. Something. Instead of whatever happened with David. I think this is too harsh and insensitive of me to say about Leigh, but still… there’s a myriad of other ways to have gone about it. Helping Zoya deal with her grief with Nikolai at her side, to understand that the rage that was fueled from her loneliness, like it had been in the past, could now be a weight that Nikolai was willing to carry with her… Helping someone with their grief, staying and choosing is also a love language you know?

So in that regard, I won’t regret saying how flat the garden scene was to me. Zoya’s lines, though tinged with grief, were so out of what I would expect KoS Zoya to say. Maybe it’s also because of how bitter I was reading about David's death, despite that part being spoiled for me.

The cost shouldn’t have been David’s death, especially not when his death too wasn’t properly handled at all, and Genya’s grief was never spared a second thought beyond bringing Titanium.

+

Now let’s talk about how Out of Character Zoya was throughout the book. Her punchy attitude was missing, and even if she was warming up to her friends, we see little of the iciness she continues to retain. Another part of this is about exploring her relationships, particularly with Nikolai and her growing feelings for him. I wish we’d have seen them grapple with more of their confusion and propriety, if only for the yearning™. Besides, no matter how cute their scenes were, they were mostly (like maybe some. 70%) awful to read them, simply because it felt so odd to see Zoya be so open with Nikolai, all of a sudden.

A part of this definitely has to be the fact that we don’t know just how much time has passed between the end of KoS and the start of RoW, and we never, never see any description of they regarded their feelings for each other and how they understood it themselves. I don’t actually know how exactly I can put this into words in a manner that will make sense, but the only scenes where I appreciated Zoyalai were in the Ketterdam chapters, ONLY. The rest was… bleh lmao. Their scenes were so cute and brilliant, and if only we’d seen more of the internal conflict and had given some more time for them to practically approach their feelings but still end up in the puddle of it. If only.

Their scenes apart were the good ones, because that’s where we finally see Nikolai feeling the loss, no matter how temporary (on the verge of being permanent since it’s the war), of not having Zoya with him, of not being there with Zoya because who else would it be if it wasn’t her? Zoyalai had good scenes but they barely lived up to the mark lol. Their feelings are never thoroughly explored, nor their mental capacities.

While we’re talking about Zoyalai, let’s also talk about how lame it was for Zoya to say that Nikolai was the golden spirited hero all along, from the very start, when canonically we know Zoya had little to do with him in the earlier books, that she may have only been physically attracted to him and never saw him as more than just some guy with a responsibility to manage, and had sooooooo much distrust about him. And that it was only in the next few years of working with him and alongside did she grow to recognize his efforts and relish in the hope that he was building for Ravka, inadvertently making Zoya hopeful too.

Nope. Instead, we’ll just throw in some destiny bs that he was the one all along rather than show that the beauty of their relationship did not stem what they perceived of each other, but was instead built on strong respect and admiration for one another and their capabilities. 100% destroyed their relationship for me.

+

Some good parts about Zoya’s arc in RoW was how she acknowledged her past mistakes, and the nuance that was touched upon in seeing sense in becoming a soldier from the start, that offered her a chance to be anything other than a bride. That some part of her was grateful for the Darkling for teaching her how to fight, while still keeping Genya’s words in mind about how they were mere kids, children who had only one path to traverse because the Darkling (who wanted their acceptance and loyalty) nor the Kings of the country let the Grisha be anything else other than pawns of the war. That she recognizes her mistakes as a teen and how self centred she was, that her being snotty had at times cost some peoples’ lives too. And she doesn’t take the blame all up on herself, because it’s not hers alone to bear. Super good.

Also, the way Zoya comes to view power as responsibility instead of merely as protection was something cool to read about. It’s not clear in the books, but Zoya actively tried to not be the Darkling while still continuing to build an army for the war out of necessity, and actually sharing some parts of the dream that the Darkling had for the Grisha. I can’t articulate this so perfectly, but the point is, Zoya trying to avoid becoming a tyrant like the Darkling was an active process that she was constantly trying to change, and where Zoya could not recognize her own feelings and inherent thoughts about warfare that in some ways did mirror the Darkling’s, by the end of book, Zoya is much more self-aware and conscious of herself and her power than she was at the start of the book. And this was well done.

+

Now, what is up with YA and making people turn into giants or animals lol wtf. Why couldn’t we have seen Zoya use her dragon powers in a way that symbolizes the conditions of her dragon amplifier and the power of the knowledge she obtained from Juris? She is a Saint, and we’ve seen that their powers allowed them to cause ‘miracles’ and such, as we see at the start of KoS and at the end.

Why couldn’t we have seen Zoya dabble with her newfound powers and completely lose her shit in anger during the wae, only to rein back in mercy, just as someone from Fjerda begs for forgiveness since they see her then as a Saint? Adrik and Leoni used their powers in Fjerda, so having Zoya bring about a conundrum of all orders and do something about it would also have been cool, wouldn’t it? In the funeral scene we see her turn water into ice, thereby making a path for Genya. Why couldn’t we have had more exploration of the importance of the dragon’s eye and the general nausea of being overly empathetic every. damn. time? Why didn’t we get to see her powers? Why couldn’t we have seen her fail in them and realize that the reason she was not perfect was because she was trying to be strong on her own and was not relying on others and joint effort?

Her turning into a dragon was genuinely the most baffling part bc here’s a war that’s so serious and dire with metals and bombs, and then here’s this magic that will solve all of it entirely. Like I’m not saying it was bad, (I am actually saying just that) but I also don’t know what I am saying, except that the ending felt like a fever dream.

…?

Not sure if I’ve managed to convey it properly, but well. Zoya felt out of character throughout RoW, and that the only place I saw KoS Zoya was in the final Os Kervo scene where Zoya finally agrees to be the queen.

c) Nikolai

Nikolai’s arc was very satisfying and brilliant to read about in RoW. In KoS, he seemed very much like a passive character, one of the reasons why his stunt with the Shu in RoW was appreciable, no matter how ill-timed of a plot turn it was. His journey throughout this book was also introspective to see why others deemed him unfit as the King, and even if they were his enemies who thought that in want to dispose him from the throne, Nikolai realizes that him being on the throne is not of much value and that this book was entirely about him seeing his privilege and making decisions to counter and correct the mistakes he’s made. That was nice. Oh, also his father not being an antagonist was a pleasant surprise.

I don’t have many complaints about him, except perhaps wanting some more internal conflict and elaboration about his feelings for Zoya. Them being apart was where it was satisfying, and then in the Ketterdam chapters. His arc could have been better in KoS, but that’s to blame the plot for the characterization.

d) Hanne

Now, from the very start, their arc was super good and it only got better and better until… the ending. Except it’s so odd that Hanne, a poc, has to now live as white person, while feeling comfortable in their transmasc identity. Icky, no? That you need to eliminate one part of your identity in order to feel safe and comfortable about another? Add to this the whole white-passing Zoya thing,,, doesn't exactly send off the right message.

Together with Nina, the ending seems uncharacteristic for both of them. Them coming to accept their powers and knowing to use their powers on their own accord was brilliant, though the entire husband business felt very,,, eh to me, even if it did make sense. The ending about their name and their new identity was too vague.

e) Genya, Leoni and Adrik, Kuwei, Mayu,

Genya is the one who faced the most disservice along with David. While there were exceptional parts to both of their plotlines, it's still sad that even if David's death was necessary, we don't get to see the entirety of her grief and the possible anger, and that her kindness is simply used as the justification for lack of portrayal of grief.

It really did take me by surprise, mostly because I wasn't a fan of the original Shadow and Bone book, but seeing David's conscience and self-awareness, along with Genya's (and Zoya thinking of how she wouldn't let any harm come to them, which shows a bit of her development towards her character development), was plenty refreshing. David and Genya were genuinely the highlights of the book and to kill David off was just. doesn't sit right with me.

Leoni and Adrik deserved more page time. They’re saints and immensely capable (no wonder they’re now the Triumvirate), but a few more pages for them to shine would not only have been nice, but also a necessity.

And now, Kuwei...

....

I mean,,, parem should have been the plot, alongside the entire weaponry and the discussion of making a city killer. But uh… that didn’t happen.

There's not much I have to say about Mayu, Tamar and Ehri, except that their plot was superb, only very badly timed.

There's more to talk about them in the remedy tho.

IV. Remedy

Here’s the deal. Before KoS release, there should have been a Nina novella.

Nina is a very important character. All of her potential, alongside many other parts of her personality--from dealing with grief, to accustoming to her powers, to growing stronger--there could be so much to do with her as a protagonist, alongside another character: Mayu.

A whole book dedicated to Nina in Fjerda with Hanne? Brilliant. Show Stopping. Mind blowing. It gives SO much page time to explore not just Nina and Mayu, Hanne, but also Zoya, Leoni and Inej. All together.

How?

Nina’s plotline carries the entire medical effects of the use of parem, just as Mayu’s will carry the pain she feels about her brother being a part of the khergud program. The novella will give ample time to flesh them out as characters and protagonists, each dealing with plot problems and problems of their own--like the loss of ones powers and newfound responsibilities, and the shared loss of a beloved person in parallel, even if neither Nina or Mayu interact on page.

Fjerda and Shu Han could be tied together with one chapter as a POV from Zoya (or maybe two), who, along with the Triumvirate and Nikolai, are completely at loss with the political scenario in the country, and are debating over what should be the course of action. Zoya receives news from the scouts, and missives from Nina, and Tamar takes care of the information she garners from the rest of the network, including Shu Han.

Like, the entire surprise of finding a Zoya POV, from a character whom until CK we’ve known as cold hearted and stern and not giving a fuck about anything or anyone, be humanized in that one chapter, thereby building up the anticipation for her arc,,, the very potential,,, *chef's kiss*.

And by the end of book, we could have an POV--or maybe a cameo if not a POV--of Inej meeting Nina on one of her travels of slave hunting. Inej could help take care that the women that Nina has rescued (as Nina does in KoS) reach the Ravkan shorelines safely. But, for a price.

The entire parallels between Leoni and Hanne and Nina could be set up, while also building up the narrative for the Saints’ plotline with Adrik's, Leoni's and Nina’s powers (like it was at the end of KoS). KoS and RoW would thereby continue it by tackling the weaponization and the antidote, Sainthood and the rest of the politics of it all.

Coming to Shu Han: one key aspect that I’d love to have explored would be the importance of art, during or despite the war. Of how war or pain chips away culture, while detailing on the ill effects of it from the commoners' perspectives, from the soldiers etc. Art is integral to Shu Han and could be portrayed by Mayu’s pain finding balm in poetry, of seeing glimpses of Ehri poring over poetry also mayri ftw, of politics that Makhi is weaving against Ravka, etc.

Or also add some more length to Zoya’s POV and explore a bit of Tamar and Tolya and Kuwei’s interactions and perspective added to it, of missing a home that they seemed to not know, or know; of discussing culture and differences on the basis of where they’re from (maybe the twins are from the borders, while Kuwei grew up near the capital or somewhere distant from the borders etc.), all while directly pointing at Zoya’s heritage and how it ebbs at her conscience, no matter how much she wants to bury it.

POTENTIAL !!!

Like,,, Nina novella would have been too powerful. It would have been perfect. I think I’d excuse bringing back the Darkling too if this was the case. (Or maybe not).

But welp.

Hey, thanks for reading! Not sure if you could make it this far, but if you have, you honestly deserve a medal for sitting through this all. I can’t imagine how tiring it must be to read through this, considering it seemed to take it more than month to compile this there’s also me procrastinating on it too so i’,mbhbdhshfsdn

Drop an ask if you want to talk more about this!

Sincerely, thank you!!!

[squigglylinesdotthei]

Make a Mess

Word count:1542

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings:18+ only please, Sexual situations? (idk really how to tag this), Teasing, Premature ejac?, embarrassed!Sam

A/N:So idk what this is, or where it came from, it's not really edited, but it made me giggle while writing it so please enjoy! Drop a request, If you’re wondering who I am writing for, send an ask.

(GIF not mine, divider is mine.)

‘She literally has no idea what she does to me, does she?’ he thought as he watched Y/n work around the library. Your hair up in a messy bun, long tendrils falling around your face. Those tiny little shorts you only seemed to wear on cleaning day, and that tight gray tank top that barely hits above her belly button. He bit his lip when you bent over a table to grab some books, unknowingly putting your ass on full display for him.

‘God, if only I could just…’ He lifted his hand subtly by his side, imagining the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers. The image of bending you over that table playing in his head, the memory of your velvet warmth wrapping around him, the way your body practically pulls him in. He feels himself grow hard in his jeans.

“Sam,” you called, god he loved when you said his name, “Baby can you come help me real quick?” you called over your shoulder. He looked up, you had a stack of books on one arm, and you were reaching up with your other trying to put a book on a high shelf. Your shirt had ridden up giving him a glimpse of the white lace bra you were wearing ‘Fuck baby, thank whoever the hell decided to drop you in my life’ he thought, his jeans now even tighter.

“Yeah,” he stood from his seat with a soft smile and walked towards you, subtly trying to adjust himself in his pants. He came up behind you and rested a hand on your waist as he reached up and effortlessly pushed the book into place. You drop back onto the flats of your feet, accidentally brushing your ass down on his already throbbing cock. Biting his lip again to hold back a moan that had threatened to escape his throat, covering it with a cough.

“Thanks,” you said as you turned and stood on your toes again to plant a small kiss on his jaw. To you, it was a small, chaste kiss of appreciation. To Sam the feeling of your lips practically on his neck, so close to that spot that makes him go weak in the knees, had his once throbbing member now aching, leaking with precum, and straining painfully against his zipper.

“No problem,” he smiled down at you before pulling away and sitting back down in his chair, trying to relive some of the pressure of his jeans. A few moments passed and Sam still couldn't stop thinking about you. Your lips on his skin, and how they’d feel wrapped around his cock, the small little whimpers you let out right before you cum. 

He continued to watch you, dirty thoughts still going through his head, when you walked past again. Stopping when you noticed his empty glass and plate sitting on the table by him. You leaned over the table on the opposite side of Sam and reached across the table for his dishes. The second Sam looked up, he knew he was a goner. The angle you were leaning at gave him a direct view down your shirt, giving him an almost full view of your perfect tits.

“O-oh Fuck,” He stuttered out as he came in his pants. Like a fucking teenager, eyes screwing shut, breathing heavy as his body flushed and tensed up where he was sitting, hands shooting to his crotch as he shot up from his seat. You on the other hand had no idea what had just happened and jumped back at the sudden outburst from Sam.

“Sam, you okay?” you asked as you reached a hand towards him, still confused as to what was happening. He jumped back grabbing his laptop and held it in front of the very obvious wet spot on his pants, hoping you wouldn't notice.

“Mmhmm, yep, everything’s good, I, uh, I just remembered I left something in uh, in the bedroom,” He quipped out in a stuttered breath. Making his was to the door quickly before slipping out, leaving you standing there, confused, plate and empty glass in hand.

“Oh, o-ok,” the words die on her breath, and she makes her way to the kitchen.

Sam let out a breath as he plopped down on the couch in the dean cave and let out a breath after re-emerging from the bedroom with a new pair of jeans. He opened his laptop and stared at the screen with a small scowl on his face.

“Everything ok Sammy?” Dean asked, sitting down in his chair and passing Sam a beer. Raising an eyebrow when he shut his laptop and let out another breath and took a drink.

“It's Y/N, I guess,” he started but trailed off, what was he supposed to say, his girlfriend made him mess his pants like a prepubescent teen, when she wasn't even doing anything sexual. 

“What's up? I thought you really liked her,” Dean began. But before he could continue Sam cut him off.

“NO! No, I do, almost too much,” he added the last part in a mumble. Looking down at his hands.

“You wanna elaborate buddy?” Dean leaned down and tilted his head. Sam looked at his expression, looking for some hint that Dean would make fun of him for this. Finding none, he lets out another breath.

“Well, today, she was cleaning the library, and she wasn’t even doing anything, but she just looked… so good,” he started, “but looking at her, thinking about her, I- I came dude” he finally got out, “Like in my jeans… and then I just left her standing there, confused, I don't even think she knows what happened,” he looked over at Dean, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment.

When he finally looked up at Dean, he was smirking. “Well” He started with a chuckle, “I think you should go talk to her, she probably thinks she did something wrong when you shot up and ran outta there like a bat outta hell.” he finishes his sentence and takes a drink from his own beer. 

As if all the Gods and Fate herself were on Dean’s side, your voice rang out from around the corner looking for him.

“Sam? Sammy, baby?” you called out.

“In here,” He called back, trying not to sound like he was just talking about the mess he made earlier. “Everything okay?” he asked you as you finally came into view. Freshly showered and changed into a pair of black leggings and one of his old flannels.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you stepped in front of him to situate next to him on the couch, he lifted his arm, allowing you to curl into his side. “You kinda left in a bit of a hurry,” you finished, finding a sudden interest in the buttons on his shirt.

“I’m going to find snacks,” Dean hopped up and headed out the door, giving Sam a pointed look before disappearing around the corner.

“Sam?” You pressed again, leaning back and looking at him. “Is everything okay? Did i do somethi-”

“No! God no,” He fully looks at you cupping your face in his hands. “Nothing bad,” He smiled softly before planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“Oh,” your voice came out small, unsure of what that exactly meant. You creased your brow and looked down at his chest fiddling with the buttons on the shirt you were wearing

Sam looked at you, Dean’s words ringing in his head still. “Y/N,” He sighed, “You are so hot,” he began, his face heating up at the conversation again. “like beyond hot sometimes,” he looked down at you, still looking down. He brought his hand to your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. “And today, with you in those tiny little shorts, and that little tank top… its like you were teasing me and you didn't even know it”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you started but Sam cut you off again.

“Y/N,” he chuckled, he should be the one apologizing, he was the one who ran off. “Seeing you run about, accidentally flashing your bra, bending over in those shorts, it was too much and I… kinda… came in my pants.” He finished his sentence and looked at you, he could feel his neck and ears burning.

“Wait?” you looked at him, stifling a giggle, “That's why you just flew outta there?” you questioned.

“Well yeah, I was embarrassed, I had just shot my load like a hormonal teen, because my girlfriend was showing too much thigh?” He chuckled leaning back against the couch again, relaxing back tan tossing his arm over the couch.

“Well, don’t be,” you quipped, curling back into his side. You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I kind of consider it a complement,” you added as you laid your head on his chest. His arm came down and wrapped around you causing a smile to stretch across your face.

“Who wants popcorn!” Dean bellowed out rounding the corner with two big bowls, passing one to you and Sam before settling in his own seat again and flipping on some old western movie.

[izzielizzie]

Idk if you talk about tv shows much but I’d love your thoughts on the Saved By the Bell reboot, especially parallels between new characters and the old ones and where you think they’re going with romance

i love talking about shows!!!

old vs new group

Zack and Mac

If the names and incredibly accurate casting wasn't enough, their knack for getting themselves into trouble, setting up elaborate pranks, and falling fast and hard for random girls should be a really good indicator of the parallel. But, one thing that should be mentioned: there is a little bit of Kelly in Mac too, which makes him a little more endearing that Zack (who really is trash). Mac is a lot more family oriented than Zack was, and Kelly, being in a family of seven kids, understands the importance of good familial relationships, and we see Mac wanting to be closer to his father. He does all of this stuff just because he wants his father to see him for once. And that is all Kelly.

Lisa and Lexi

I mean this one is kind of obvious: obsessed with fashion and relationships. They're both popular and give good advice. But I think the biggest difference between them is that Lexi's intentions are purely selfish while Lisa generally did what was best for her friends. It's interesting how they get into similar scrapes, but there's the very clear difference in how they happen and what the results are. Lisa, who spent a ton of her father's money and then worked to pay it back, even though her friends offered her money, ended up happy while learning a lesson. But when Lexi tries to get Jamie to date her or tries to win the role of president, she gets out of her scrapes without learning anything. She's starting to learn and she's going to have a great arc, but Lisa was - mostly - selfless from the first episode.

Jessie and Daisy

Again, another very obvious comparison. Jessie was the overachieving class president who was best friends with the popular prankster. And, per Mac's proclamation in the second episode, Daisy is Mac's best friend. But what sets Jessie and Daisy apart is that Jessie was super vocal about everything she believed in, and was willing to upset people she cared about even if it hurt her (think of her will-they-won't-they with Slater where she accused him of being a sexist pig every other second). And Daisy is just as vocal, but she has an inherent understanding of when to step back and let other people figure things out. Like when she says that if she wants to do anything at Bayside, she had to stop trying to fix one guy. Jessie didn't take that route with Slater.

Kelly and Jamie

For all of their other incredible qualities, Kelly and Jamie were reduced to the good looking airheads of the group. Kelly was the object of many boys' affection, and Jamie is just as liked by the girls at Bayside. But they're also both insanely kind and willing to help their friends. Jamie was the only one from the Bayside trio to be genuinely saddened about the kids having to go back to Douglas because, like Kelly, he never really has ulterior motives. He's kind of just... misguided.

Slater and DeVante

I know that the show explored this parallel from the very beginning of the show with the whole football thing, but their similarities extend farther. Slater was lonely and a little jaded when he arrived at Bayside because he had been in fourteen schools due to his father being stationed in a lot of different places. His only friend was his chameleon that he was really attached to. And he used his insecurities to look tough and join different teams to create his own family, knowing very well that he may have to leave. And DeVante has a really hard home life, and he's had some past misdemeanor issues, but like Slater, he wants to change how people view him while also trying to become happier. Maybe he isn't ready for a family like group of friends, but he's trying.

Screech and Aisha

Screech got the short end of the stick a lot, but he was an incredibly kind and helpful person - he got Lisa out of a lot of scrapes even though she never showed any interest or kindness in return - but most importantly: he was unapologetically himself. He flaunted his ant farm and his interesting abilities, no matter how much Zack teased him. And Aisha is the same way. She wanted to play football without a helmet just so people would know they were losing to her. And she's kind too. She lends a shoulder to Daisy constantly, and she's respectful towards Lexi even though she kind of admitted to sabotaging Jamie and Aisha's relationship.

Romances

the triangle

The Aisha, Lexi, and Jamie love triangle is reminiscent to the Slater, Zack, and Kelly triangle, where two people are fighting for the affections of a third person that’s rather oblivious. Saved By the Bell is a big fan of the “best friends to lovers” trope, so Lexi and Jamie might be the most obvious choice for long term couple, but - and hear me out here - I think the ultimate couple will be Aisha and Jamie. Jamie is less prejudiced out of the three original Bayside kids, but he’s a little confused, especially because his mother shields him from so much. If the show can do it right, with Aisha’s prompting, Jamie can have an amazing arc where he steps away from his mother and other people that have controlled his life (like Lexi), learning that he’s enough as his own person, and Jessie can learn that her son will be okay on his own.

And Jamie can teach Aisha how to accept her feelings, especially since she admitted that she’s not the best at talking about/understanding her feelings.

Slater and Jessie

Ah yes, my personal favorite. Especially since Jessie stood up to Rene, it’s highly likely that Kelly will be sowing the seeds of the old relationship in the second season, and we go back to our regularly scheduled programing

also - can you guys tell I adore Jamie yet? - it would be great for Jamie to have a positive father figure, something he doesn’t have since Jessie did most of the raising. 

Mac and Daisy

I know their actors were surprised by this pairing, but Mac and Daisy are perfect. Before Slater asked Jessie to the prom, I shipped Jessie and Zack so hard because they had chemistry and they were friends. Mac and Daisy have the chemistry - and have had it since day one - but also they’re best friends who build each other up and learn from each other. The also appreciate and value each other. Mac tried to teach Daisy how to be rich to get what he wanted, but ultimately he pushed everyone to help her since he knew that she was doing the right thing. And Daisy accused him of not being able to do anything, but she apologizes because she understands that Mac is still working out his issues and most importantly - he’s trying.

And I know this part is self-fulfilling because I’m Latina, but I really want Mac learning about Daisy’s culture and understanding where she’s coming from. Also: Mac interacting with Daisy’s brother would be perfect.