#I saw that quote on a post here and i haven’t been able to find it again

[quinn-pop]

when i think about it, i can’t imagine most of magolor’s time scheming was all that satisfying. not really.

it kinda depends on where you place him, but with the helper magolor feature in rtdldx i think it’s more interesting to imagine him traveling alongside kirby and the others. and how lonely that must have felt.

y’know, especially with kirby around. someone so earnest and friendly.

anyway, just a concept i can’t let go of

the phrase “you are my deepest most tender wound” has been stuck in my head lately. i think it fits. not perfectly, but enough.

yes this is like 95% to be apart things. i have brainrot

#kirbyposting #my art or something #kirby and magolor are such siblings to me but in like the most distant way possible #it’s the combination of knowing each other so well #not knowing each other at all #and loving and hating each other #i made a post about having magolor thoughts a few months ago well they’re back #meta knight #kirby #magolor #to be apart #‘ah yes i will take it easy tonight and maybe write tomorrow’ i drew for hours lol oops #not even what i had set out to draw #i have a bunch of posts almost done and i was hoping to focus on that but here we are #i still don’t know how to draw magolor tbh it’s the face #i couldn’t be satisfied with the eyebrows so im just gonna say they’re hidden in the uh #hood shadow??? #we’re going with that #I saw that quote on a post here and i haven’t been able to find it again

[ineffablelunatics]

The Good Place and Crowley

A while ago, someone sent an ask to Gaiman. It went as follows, “In the book, ‘Golden Girls’ was Crowley’s favorite TV show. Is that slo TV Crowley’s favorite or does he have a current TV show that he prefers?” He answered, “I think he’d love the ‘The Good Place.’”

The Good Place is one of my favorite shows. I completely understand why Crowley would like it. It has some of the best debates of the philosophy and ethics of modern day society including the afterlife. It argues that people should not be defined as good and bad. It shows that people can improve. It tells us why and how they improve.

There’s two things about Crowley that really connect him to these thoughts. 1. Crowley does not like to be defined as good(or nice). Though we haven’t really seen that include bad, I would assume that it would be the similar thought. It also might have something to do with Aziraphale saying those things specifically, but that’s another post. 2. That people are not defined by what happened to them, and that means that anyone can improve.

Crowley fell from Heaven. He fell from grace which made him demon which means that for all intents and purposes, he should be evil. But he isn’t. Crowley doesn’t ever really commit truly evil acts. Any truly evil act that Hell thinks Crowley committed, humans committed. Crowley just took the credit. Crowley likes the thought that people can change. In Hell, he sees tons of people who are awful, but he also sees people who just made some mistakes. He sees demons who are like him who don’t find joy in treating people terribly. He’s seen angels causing harm happily, but others giving away joy like lollipops.

Those two things are fundamental in the show, The Good Place. I would argue Good Omens as well. If Adam had always been treated like he was evil, he probably would have never had friends who he genuinely cared about so much so that their fear pulled him out of his power drunken state. If Aziraphale had assumed the snake was evil(if he even saw him lol), then smited him, where would Crowley and humanity be? The demon with the imagination burned to ash and humanity living with almost decision-less whilst tucked neatly within Eden’s walls. If people couldn’t improve then Shadwell would have never been able to put aside his fears and foolishness so that he could love Madame Tracy and show it. Gabriel and Beelzebub would still be planning Armageddon 2.0 if they hadn’t moved on and fell in love instead.

The Good Place reminds us of the things time and time again. Each of the four main characters get reset, and every time, in the right circumstances, they always become better people. They are also never really defined as good and bad either. At times, others try to define Eleanor as a bad person, but every time, she reminds them that, yes, maybe, she shouldn’t be in the Good Place, but at the very least, she should be in her very own Middle Place. Every time, Chidi teaches her how to become a better person(which only works, because she wants to be one) and in the process, he becomes one too. Just like Gabriel and Beelzebub.

This was way longer than I expected it to be, but here are some quotes from The Good Place and where I think they would fit into Good Omens whether that be place and time or people and relationships.

“Sometimes, when you’re feeling helpless, the secret is to help someone else. Get out of your own head. Trust me. The next time someone asks for help, say yes.” This feels like the whole of S2, specially Aziraphale with Jim and then Maggie

“If you have bills to pay and shit to deal with you don;t have time or energy to become a better person.”  The Resurrectionists in 1827 with Elspeth and Wee Morag

“If there were an answer I could give you to how the universe works, it wouldn’t;t be special. It would just be machinery fulfilling its cosmic design. It would just be a big, dumb food processor. But since nothing seems to make sense, when find something or someone that does, it’s euphoria.” All the couples in GO, but that quote right there seems to be how Crowley and Aziraphale has been holding on for so long

“I guess all I can do is embrace the pandemonium find happiness in the unique insanity of being here, now.” Nina specially during The Ball

“People improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don’t?” Beelzebub and Gabriel

“We have no plan. No one’s coming to save us. So... I’m going to do it.” Aziraphale(specifically him at the end of S2 in my opinion)but also just everybody in S1 with Anathema, Agnus, the Them, Aziraphale and Crowley, just all trying their best

“If soulmates do exist, they’re not found. They’re made. People meet. They get a good feeling, and they get to work building a relationship.” All the couples, but especially Aziraphale and Crowley with the Agreement, they were working on their relationship before they knew they were even working on their relationship

“What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is if people are trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.” Crowley, because deep down, at the end of the line, we know that he’s an optimist

*reminder that all of this is my opinion, if there’s anymore quotes you would like to add, please do, some of the information might be incorrect

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens spoilers #david tennant #michael sheen #the good place #eleanor shellstrop #chidi anagonye #jason mendoza #tahani al jamil #the good place quotes #I don’t know why #but here is a really long post about the good place and good omens #because i love them so much

[dr-donogood]

Hey! Idk if this still interests you or not but I saw your post saying Richtofen isn’t a n@zi

I also believe this and have done a lot of research but I think I have trouble with finding sources as I haven’t been able to find anything that shows that he is against fascism + hates it, which makes it difficult to argue that he isn’t one when talking to others about it.

Do you have proof or some sort of instance that either states or hints towards this that could help with the argument that he is against n@zis?

I’d appreciate any info you give!

Hello anon! Oh wow It has been a hot second since I've Codsed my Zombies. I'm not sure how much you know already. So I'll just go down the list of things I remeber! And i'll make this a bit beginner freindly, just in case anyone needs to show this to someone.

Also feel free to add to it!!! Or feel free to point out if I misspoke it HAS been a bit...

1) For starters, although the lore reason for Richtofen's outfit is unknown (most anything i could say here would be pure speculation and HC), we do know that he was originally just a re-used asset from the main game. He comes from the villian character Heinrich Amsel. When COD Zombies (previously Nazi Zombies) first started out, all the characters were blank slate re-used and slightly recolored assets. They ofc later gave them all names and stories (although testing the waters at first, a lot of early story got ret-conned. Such as Richtofen being a back ally surgeon.) But they unfortunately never re-designed him outside of removing the swastika :( but I also belive it's important beacuse I feel like it's one of the only things ppl bring up when the try and say Richtofen is a nazi, and I feel like it holds no weight beacuse of these things.

(Here is Heinrich Amsel. As u can see, clearly where Richtofen's original model comes from.)

2) lore stuff is dificult to pile evidance for due to how the lore in the game itself is presented. If you want the freshest and best sources (aside from meticulously beating every easter egg and finding all the secrets) YouTube videos with the quotes/Easter eggs/secrets are your best bet aside from going in game and grabbing them yourself. I can't particularly remeber what exsact maps may be able to help you. Aside from Classified!

It's just generally a real important part of the basic lore that Richtofen isn't a Nazi and hates them. It's kinda what kicks off....everything that happend. Im sure anyone could get this information from any reliable Cod Zombies lore video (i uhhh don't know which ones are reliable i haven't watched any! Probably check out Mr.RoflWaffles?). For starters, Richtofen was always a spy. He worked for the Illuminati before Maxis asked him to join Group 935, and Richtofen only joined so he could feed information back to the Illuminati. It's also important to note that Group 935 was not originally associated with Nazis. Maxis made a deal with the nazis without anyone's permission (funding and test subjects in exchange for weapons and super soldiers.) And that was one of many things that pissed Richtofen off so badly that he gathered everyone up to make a secret section of Group 935, that both worked with the allies, and planned on killing off Maxis. (Ofc his goal was later shifted and corupted by the Apothicons. But this is about how Richtofen isn't a Nazi, not questioning him as a dubious person. There was also all of the moon shit, Maxis not caring about Richtofen's experiments, a whole boat load of resons that Richtofen wanted that man dead.)

(Also. Richtofen never fought in ww2 and ww2 is already over by the time the zombie breakout happens.)

Here is a link to the Film Reels in Classified, many of which talk about how Richtofen was working against Maxis (and the nazis) and even has some verbal confirmation from Richtofen about his distaste for nazis.

Also here is also the Kronorium! As far as I know, it should still be a reliable sorce! (Like i said, it's been a while). And I think it's a bit better than the wiki (which still says his nationality is nazi german...instead of just saying he's german....) there is plenty of stuff in the interactive book that explains

https://kronorium.com/

2) here are some instances of his voice actor, Nolan North, confirming that he isn't a Nazi! (Thank you @jamieaiken919 for digging these up for me!!!)

And did that's kinda all I have for now! Like I said anyone is free to add!

#cod zombies #edward richtofen #tw nazi #nazi tw #man i made that original post when i was 13-14ish that was a while ago #i was also kinda cringe as shit back then but at least i was right about COD Zombies!!!

[kingofthering]

Marc/Fabio - Primer - Part Two (2020-2023)

This post is a continuation of the first part which you will find here. We left off at the end of the 2019 where people were already to see Fabio become Marc's main opponent for a title battle. History has kind of decided to go in another direction for now but let's dive in.

2020

Obviously Marc had his huge crash during the first weekend and he couldn't race for the rest of the season. For 2020 I will just mention the Virtual Races that they both did with a bunch of other riders during quarantine (I made a playlist with the videos of the backstage : here). In one of them (#3) Marc is ribbing Fabio about the time he spends playing and how he's getting Valentino's bike next year, not now (because Fabio is playing as Vale).

2021

PORTIMAO. Marc congratulated Fabio on his win after the race.

JEREZ. Have some awkward flirting with poor Pedro Acosta third-wheeling.

gifs by @tentatropolis (source)

LE MANS. Just because I think it’s a little iconic, look at them entering the pit lane together to change bike during the race (when it got to rain conditions).

gif by @ferrawri (source)

SACHSENRING. Marc’s first win since Valencia 2019 and since his return. Fabio gets to share the podium with him in third place.

AUSTIN. Marc’s second win of the year, Fabio second this time.

gifs by @marcsmarquez (source)

MISANO (second race). Third Marc win of the season and evidently, the race where Fabio secures his championship title (finishing 4th in the race). There are several moments with the two of them in parc fermé (video of their hug here), one that is very dear to my heart is the hug that Marc’s dad gives to Fabio (background of the gif below).

gif by @flyingfabio (source)

In the post race conference, Fabio said something (in french) that I keep thinking about but I’m very normal about it, it’s just that Marc is someone that he adores!! Full quote : “I truly hope so. I have a very, very good relationship with him. He’s a person I adore, and he congratulated me. We have things left unfinished on track, him and I, fights I couldn’t win. I really hope I get to fight with him next year.” (video)

2022

LE MANS. In FP3, Fabio gave Marc a tow to help Marc get into Q2. He said : “It was okay to take Marc with me to the FP3. My plan was to do the best lap possible in that session and, when I saw Marc behind me, I realized he wasn’t at his best. I think having him behind is better than having a Ducati, for example. Maybe, with other riders, I wouldn’t have done the same, but with him, I let him do what he wanted.”

gifs by @rookie-ofthe-year (source)

They were also together for some game during media day but I haven’t been able to find the video.

MUGELLO. In Mugello, Marc announced that he was going to get a fourth surgery on his humerus and be out for a while. Fabio made an insta post wishing him luck, which Marc had to scroll back to like, as you can see in one episode of All In. With Aleix, Fabio was the only driver who came by Marc’s motorhome that weekend (he talks about it in All In).

PHILIPP ISLAND. Marc’s 100th podium. Fabio congratulated him after the race when they were doing media and Marc asks what happened to Fabio (video). I’m always very fond of their little debriefs so that was nice.

VALENCIA. Not the weekend we were hoping for for Fabio Championship wise but at least it really served some good Marc/Fabio moments. On press conference, Marc said : “I know that tomorrow Fabio will push, will push a lot. If he crashes and hit another driver… If he hits me, I will understand. I don’t want but I will understand because he’s playing for a World Championship, not for the race.” (video) (I live for Marc’s little shrug before speaking his truth) (iconic, truly).

And they did an helmets swap (video) (another angle).

After the race, they had another of their debriefs. Canal+ journalist was talking over the video so it’s kind of hard to hear them talking but basically they arranged to call each other after the race (something Fabio confirms).

Valencia is also where this video (that I have watched way too many times) happened. Their motorhomes next to one another and the little goodbye.

2023

SEPANG TESTING. So the japanese bikes didn’t deliver but Sepang gave us some cool shots of them that I wanted to share anyway.

PORTUGAL. First race of the season. Boys caught talking to each other for a while during the family photo thing.

gifs by @racewinner (source)

MUGELLO. What I will consider a Mabio crumb during the parade.

SILVERSTONE. Finally we got the two of them in a press conference together. Pictures of them together with Jake Dixon were taken before the event and they were talking together at the end of the conference.

SPIELBERG. More crumbs, bless the group photo that put them together and Fabio also appeared in Marc's vlog of the weekend.

INDIA. In the press conference next to each other and if you have 5 minutes in front of you, I recommend you to watch the end of it.

JAPAN. Together in the riders parade.

SEPANG. Cozy moment in the pit lane.

gifs by @flyingfabio

#fabio quartararo #marc marquez #marcfabioprimer #hopefully with many more moments to come to complete this #primer #no we don’t talk about aragon #2093

[tutuandscoot]

I find it interesting that you praise Tessa and Scott so much for so many things, including their athleticism, but that you put quotes around “sport” when referring to ice dance today. While no team may live up to what Tessa and Scott brought to the sport, don’t you think that athletes today, even those at a lesser level or who don’t push the boundaries of art and possibility, still deserve some level of respect? Like Chock and Bates, I don’t watch them all that much but I can certainly respect improvement, dedication, and their own innovation without loving watching them like I did VM. Would you really look at what they are doing and not call C/B and others athletes? Curious to hear your thoughts.

LONG POST AHEAD:

It’s not that I don’t respect other teams.. I just don’t care that much about the sport.. I’ve watched a lot of it but predominantly only competitions from VM’s era- so im much more familiar with teams they competed against.I think I’m able to speak so specifically and with such nuance on VM because I adore them and I have studied them with such precision.. other teams I haven’t done that because i dont feel the connection that i do to VM. Anon I’m interested why you pulled out that specific word air quoted? Honestly I didn’t think about it, I put quotes around things all the time and it’s hardly the first time i or anyone has questioned Ice dance’s legitimacy of the sport.. remember when it nearly got kicked out of the olys. This is all to do with standards and I don’t feel the sport is at a high standard at the moment, not where it use to be and it’s disappointing when there are people who could be so talented are being held back by some shitty ISU rules, not allowing or rewarding strong technical skating and athletic excellence. (There are people who know far more than me who have said this same thing on here).

If I’m being perfectly honest there were things I saw when I first watched VM that I didn’t think we’re great:

Eg: I didn’t like the stat lift position in Mahler

I thought there were some sloppy moments in various Carmen performances (and while i love it for everything that it is it is and why they did it it’s not my fave program and they could’ve done it much better)

I don’t ‘LOVE’ their Latin SD from 2011/12

And various other nuanced moments because I’ve been trained (through high level ballet) to critique things.

As I’ve watched more and more I’ve been able to appreciate really nuanced things in their skating/dancing and overall partnership. I love them and appreciate them because they are the one team I feel that fully balances sport and dance, and on top of that they have this unbelievable chemistry that creates an odd illusion of seeing two people experiencing a relationship, but are so connected and have this physical advantage that kinda makes it so you are only seeing one of them. On the sport and dance matter, case and point: when I showed them to my mum who was with me all through my dancing and has seen a lot and nothing much impresses her, she’s not a dancer but she can tell what’s good and what’s not unbiasedly: watching some ice dance she said ‘the sport is ice dance right, i don’t feel like they are dancing’. Watching TS, ‘they are dancing. I feel them dancing, telling a story, I fully believe them, I don’t care they are on ice in skates, they are dancers’. She like me through dance is quite judgmental of skating, gymnastics etc, when there isn’t turnout of pointed feet or drab performances, she says so. TS she never felt that. She recalled seeing them years ago probably from YVR or Sochi and she thought they were beautiful but she thought everyone was like that.. then when I made her watch a comp she said ‘oh god TS aren’t even on the same level.. there’s no way you can judge other teams against them because they are doing something totally different that you can’t possibly compare in the same way to everyone else’

Above all- (if I were to try) comparing TS to every other team I’ve ever watched (and while I may not have watched every other team to the in depth level of TS, I have watched multiple.. top 10 vm era teams multiple times) TS dance where as every other team I feel simply skates. I don’t feel any other team has the inherent connection to music or movement that takes it from skating, to dancing, to art. No other teams (maybe TD exempted, but since VM) have pushed past the requirements of their sport in the way TS did. I don’t know how many on here have the unique vantage of viewing purely from the perspective of ‘dance’ rather than skating or even laymen who just enjoy the sport. Dance is a sport, it its athletic and requires you to be strong, flexible, determined, creative and hard working. All teams competing at this level are no doubt skilled and talented and work hard, and many have been waiting for the opportunity to win/medal a worlds title, but the fact that one of them this year will imo is not because they are the standard deserving of it, its just in their field there is no one better. For people who were there through VM’s career or even those who came along after and dived into their skating and the environment around them, i think.. i feel it must me hard to accept the sport has changed and maybe not for the better in that the skill level and overall boundary pushing has clearly dropped. I feel that way both athletically and artistically. For those who are able to happily watch current ice dancing and enjoy it for what it is, that’s great, i don’t necessarily wish i could because i never really cared about the sport to begin with (but i’ve enjoyed learning about it and it’s history) Being able to accept the current standard as world title worthy is not something I’m personally able to do. If 10 is the level of VM’s performance and chemistry than no team would achieve anything close to 10, but 10 is not defined by a other team, its defined by whatever the ISU has made up (or paid to say is) worthy of 10. I understand the sport doesn’t and can’t work like this, but it makes it hard for me to watch it knowing there has been so much better.. and forget ‘better’, that i just feel more connected to as a viewer. Its not to say there won’t be a team that comes along, but right now there isn’t and theres a lot of factors contributing to that beyond any specific team.

I know someone will probably say ‘how are you able to say you don’t think a team is deserving when you haven’t watched them closely’, which.. fair. im probably not. I don’t actively seek out current skating to watch.. I watched CanNats.. wasn’t impressed.. but I see results just coz the IG algorithm gives them to me, clips of performances etc.. also and I’m not ashamed to admit this, I am biased to VM, and I’m fine with that because in what way will me quietly loving them affect anything in this world?? I have watched plenty of these teams (that competed with VM) many times from previous years, the Beijing olys, and when I occasionally read something current on here it seems clear there’s are others who feel the standard has dropped too.. but that’s not everyone’s opinion.

I don’t know how many teams have or are actively striving to extend their legacy beyond the boards of skating rink through what they perform in a skating rink- hell i don’t even think VM necessarily strived for that, i don’t think they had some big grand plan and they will tell you they didn’t but simply through their own desire to push themselves, they achieved this. I don’t think anyone should or need to achieve this but the fact is VM did, they were the special two that did. I often go back to my love for the Beatles and how J+P’s story is similar to VM- a random meeting of two people who happened to have what it took through passion, hard work, a favourable set of circumstances that lead to achieving a level of greatness that no one else in their industry will… for a very long time at least. They changed their field of art for the better, but it didn’t necessarily stay that way.. the music industry has gone to shit (through tech/manufactured ‘artists’) the skating world has dropped (ISU not doing their fucking jobs, certain coaches/countries doping etc.. different things affecting different disciplines) VM rose in a period of relative stability and that was favourable to them. This chance meeting and stars aligning was the same with vm. They had the right personalities, dedication, etc and favourable timing and they inadvertently changed the sport in ways they didn’t even set out to. It just happened and it happened to them. Its kind of matter of natural selection..

I don’t know if I’m conscious to it or but I think I use the world ‘sport’ when I’m referring to the sport of ID and the rare times other teams as SPORT and when referring to TS I say art or dance is because they have completely bridged that divide and have become artists that can’t be simply defined as skaters because they were just that extraordinary. I don’t watch them and think about edges or judging or elements because they are so much more than that, all those things are irrelevant when you watch them because it’s so much… more than that (idk how else to put it).

That thing I said about being very scrutinising of TS when I first watched them, well only because a) I fell in love with them as people let alone dancers and b) I have watched them so much and realised this essence they have and appreciation for what they do, I have remained scrutinising about the rest of the sport because no other team, and for that matter very few skaters in general (sui/han, Yuna, yuzu, Misha Ge, Jason brown, Carolina, Patrick to an extent) have ever made me forget about scrutinising and just watch and enjoy what they do.

I was gonna put out a request for this before I did this but since it’s kinda on the topic of this ask I’ll do it now.

My opinions on (again, roughly top 10 of VM’s era) ID teams (prefacing this by warning this will be critical and as said above I am critical of this sport and I am biased to VM, however as you yourself admit TS set such a high standard). I have more personal opinions on some of these teams/skaters that I don’t feel appropriate to share to their full extent because I can admit to myself they are unwarranted to have in the first place since I don’t know them as people and can only judge the character that I see.

Also.. this is weird and it won’t make sense to anyone, but for me having grown up in competitive dance, I watch a lot of ID teams and associate them with ‘styles’ of various dance studios I used to compete against. Not dance styles (eg ballet or hip hop) but studio styles. Eg, ‘Shibs are very JGSOD and CB are very iDance’.. those studios names won’t make any sense to any of you but I just thought I’d mention that’s a weird way I watch ID teams, and highlights the fact that TS I don’t relate to any one style or school or company in the dance world I have ever seen before because their style is simply THEM.

D/W: Cleary consistent. Work well together having skated for so long. I do not like their style, I don’t feel they have any connection, it just feels like two people skating, they skate well, but no emotional connection that comes from an honest place, only performative. (I haven’t watched a lot of programs of theirs) but through their movement I sense a lack of creativity, it’s very clean, cookie cutter, but they don’t take artistic risks. I’ve seen many other posts highlighting their addiction to war horsy programs that are relatively safe themes and don’t challenge the judges or audience.

P/C: simply jumped on the popularity of the moody, melodramatic contemporary style taking over the competitive dance world, found that it worked and stuck with it, rose to prominace in an unchallenged field- no team still competing from the VM/DW era was able to step up to fill the void. (+French Fed/didier). PC’s style and a lax of ISU technical scrutiny somewhat leading to the simplification and lack of innovation in ice dance. I watched the Beijing olys and while there were teams not doing this style, both athletic ability and dominance/favourably from judges of the themeless contemporary style prevented anyone from breaking through as a team with a vision and will have to try and make their mark in the current quad. And you know what.. I partly put some of the blame for this on IAM.. all their teams post VM kinda blended into one for me without any of them standing out with their own personalities.. (again- not basing this purely on programs because I haven’t watched all of them, but just a general observation because I’ve have seen this happen in the dance world I’ve come from). It is inevitable when you have 20 some odd ‘top’ teams all trained by the same people, it takes individuality and desire to differ yourself (VM) to stand out in this environment and actually succeeding in doing so often comes down to rare, raw talent (again this is subjective so just because i don’t view a team as being capable of this doesn’t mean other’s don’t). I don’t know PC personally obviously but certain instances have made question and therefore dislike their character as competitors: ‘we were hoping, praying for TS to mess up and when they didnt we were like ‘shit’, ‘we only lost PYC coz of the costume (which was her fault) and deserved to win if not for that’, ‘knowing they would win Beijing because they were unchallenged and that gold was the one they deserved from 4 years ago’ ‘not challenging themselves or the sport, yes creating their own distinct style but eventually they will be forgotten when the style becomes obsolete’. They are good, but not anywhere near VM and the fact they think they are (just from what I gather from their character, esp her) makes me dislike them. VM never thought they were holier than thou, when told they are the goats they reference T/D. yes they spoke out when they felt they weren’t scored fairly but other times when they clearly were (cough Sochi) they didn’t and maintained they were beaten fair and square. It’s not just about athletic talent, it’s also about character bc good, kind character comes through in performances as honest and genuine.

Shibs: technically clean, did the essentially the exact same program for 3 seasons (coldplay, after the rain (16/17) and coldplay again) in the same costume just different colours. Did not have one lift that was attractive or that stands out as innovative or something you’ll remember. Some people are fine with the sibling team thing and others aren’t. Generally I’m not really a fan of it (i agree with T i think its kind of odd) but if a team can convince me otherwise I’m fine with it. Cathy and Chris reed I thought were fine, Z/Z from Israel I thought were fine, the Kerrs creep me out.. Alex and Maia were clearly the best of the sibling teams of this era but to me they just looked like 10-13 year old siblings at a recital and never broke out of that visual for me.

WeaPo: I’ve never liked them as skaters, as people they seem lovely. They are team that clearly improved A LOT- 20 something at worlds when VM were 6th, 17th (I think) the following year when VM were second (yes they had only just paired up and TS had been together 11 years). Even improvement between like 2012ish and 2017ish you can tell. They obviously became a top team deserving of placements but were still farrrr behind TS the whole time and were fortunate in VM stepping away for 2 years allowing them to win titles they wouldn’t have otherwise. I find them quite awkward, obviously Andrew is very tall so he needs a tall partner, but K seems not quite tall enough. None of their programs stand out to me. The best for me are probs their 2014 olys FD and their 2018 olys latin was ok- bit different to rest of the field. I’ve never connected to them emotionally, I find their performances quite forced and un balanced, K going for it too hard and Andrew not knowing where the hell she is emotionally and kinda just has one look on his face dependent on the tempo (brooding for anything slow/dramatic)

Bock:……. Meehhhh.. i just don’t feel anything for them, they have very plastic expressions. It feels like when you are teaching little kids dances to perform and you say ‘smile here’ ‘ok be sad here’. It’s like their emotions have been choreographed for them. I keep forgetting they are actually a couple because you wouldn’t guess it watching them skate. On a skating level I’m not knowledgeable enough to say how specifically they improved. Energy and performance wise i see very little difference between 2014, 2018, 2022. Sometimes i think they are capable of more than i think ‘no they really aren’t’. No doubt they are one of the top teams now, but that is because the standard (party as a result of ISU rules) has gone down the drain. In almost any other field they would not be considered world champ material, and in this field i don’t consider that either, but i don’t consider anyone particularly deserving of a ‘World Champions’ title. (I really hope they win just so gilorier don’t because that I can’t will struggle to live with). Sometimes its who you don’t have to beat. PC were able to (somehow) rise because VM + DW were gone, W/P got some titles they other wise wouldn’t have gotten, its like if you took the top 50 tennis players out of a grand slam, it would be way easier for a lower ranked/skilled player to win. They are just kinda forgettable to me (same with G/F, LoLo/Nik).

Gilorier: ughhh.. they remind me of Ken and Barbie when the skate/perform.. 10x more plastic than C/B.. i don’t think I’ve ever seen paul move his spine/neck/have a genuine/natural expression. As someone who actually has 3 metal rods in their back i think i can bend and express more than he does. They try so hard to be so creative and different with their programs (this seems like a carol thing since @ otherteams) it becomes hard to watch. I actually kind of liked their James Bond dance, but the plastic expressions kind of suited that. Their themes cover up for their.. average (until recently maybe- I’m judging them in the VM era) skating skills (idk, someone who knows more tell me if their skating skills are good). I see them as the ‘gimmick’ team. You don’t have to be sooo outrageous, its distracting. I adore TS always with the view that they want their costumes to be minimal and not distract.. we’ll its easy not to notice the actual skating when you’ve been blinded by tangerine jumpsuits.. it was like looking at an eclipse. Also them being the top Canadian team right now is even harder. .esp watching the Beijing olys and VM saying they were the best medal hope out of literally every discipline.. like im sorry my bbys your legacy and the 2018 team’s legacy could not be passed on. (thats a whole other subject)

H/D: I’m nervous about this one bc a lot seemed to love them… but i honestly don’t get it. They were great skaters by the end, no doubt the strongest and should not have been so far behind PC in any way shape or form.. but thats where my praise kinda ends.. im gonna be honest here because i don’t know how to say it nicer.. Zach seems like a complete douch.. i already said it on that post everyone is angry at me for.. it was sooooooooooooo freaking obvious he was obsessed with Scott and tried to be like Scott. Its great Scott had such a positive impact on other male skaters and so many looked up to him.. but Zach was just trying soooooo hard to be like him. When i reference TS being so soft and caring of each other in public- on ice during warm ups, and in the past I’ve referenced other teams ‘trying’ to be like this.. Zach is who im referring to. it was not soft, it was creepy.. It just looked so fake, from both of them (hd) for that matter, Trying so hard to convince the audience of a connection. i don’t know where people saw the chemistry in them because i never did. They always skated really angry (like with an angry, frantic energy) very ‘commercial’ style- music video style with the low angle steady cam all in your face. I think they think they thought they were connecting and performing to each other but to me it often looked like they were conflicted whether to perform to the audience or each other and neither quite worked. TS have this thing where they find each others eyes like magnets, HD seemed to have to try so hard to find each other’s eyes. So often they lost that connection and focus. Every team has less then perfect performances but they were an inherently flop team for so long. They definitely deserved their medal in 2022, probably one higher than bronze for that matter, but i didn’t like their programs. Obviously i don’t know them, they are probably great people, but i just am not attracted to them. The little bit of that oly channel series on IAM that i watched, one part was just them yelling at each other in front of Scott and im sitting their watching like ummmmmmm… (whatever works for them but christ can u even imagine TS talking to each other like that???) And then yeah the ‘STAT. LIFT BASE!’ I mean the commentary in the K+C.. ‘just give us +5’ i HATE that kind of cocky confidence (same as PC) Scott could at least admit he was cocky and improved and changed his demeanour so much as he matured into a truly beautiful artist and person.. but i never saw him acting like he and Tess were the best thing since sliced bread- egging on a high score for a sub-par performance, let alone an amazing one in the k+c. Character has a lot to do with it.

Others: B/S- fine nothing amazing i liked their later FDs but never loved them. C/L: cute.. gonna sound hypocritical here but they really suited the traditional, operatic, period, Italian folk vibe really well and whenever they departed from that they lost it for me. The lifts were always very hijinxy- often unnecessarily so, theres innovation then theres tricks for the sake of tricks- thats a delicate balance. Im glad they won a worlds and euros but with VM back in the field sort of 4th/5th/6th is fairly where their skill kept them. StepBuk: (why not let’s throw them in) they probably had the most genuine connection of any other team around this time. I understand they had been together since kids so that helps, but as I said the other day.. it’s the quality of TS relationship that makes them so much more believable as being in love.. fuck it just caring about each other and seeing that through their dancing. DW I didn’t get that feeling/PC i definitely didn’t.. so it’s not just being together so long and using that to an advantage.. you have to work for it (not to say others haven’t but we’ve been over this TS prioritised it every fucking day). All the other top teams in VM’s early senior career were good for the time but as VM (and DW) overtook them the skill, performance and overall talent gap became obvious; B/A, D/S, F/S, P/B etc..

I don’t understand where the argument comes in that you have to love and appreciate all teams… why do I have to randomly praise teams I don’t like? I’m not actively trashing them (like some people do on here and have done to VM) I just don’t think they are that good and I said so like.. once or twice out of how many posts on here..

I don’t love skating- I learned about it through VM. I was critical of it before discovering them, I’m critical of it now. When VM do something I don’t love I will say so. It’s hard to love and appreciate a sport when there’s only really one team/person you are invested in. I have lots of opinions about other teams and the sport in general, some might be valid, some not, none of my opinions are gonna change the sport for good or bad.. my opinion on vm or any team takes nothing away from what said team has and will achieve whether I agree with the result or not. That’s literally the extent of my thoughts on the subject..

I know anon you aren’t saying this but others have, who is anyone to criticise someone else for loving something? Why do people have to criticise why I love VM, or what part of them I admire. I know I said I don’t get why people like HD but I wouldn’t go so far to call someone out on it personally. Each to their own. There is room for everyone, but not everyone is equal in a field where some are just better.

#ask #you’re welcome this took all of my day off

[ad-hawkeye]

Hi! So, I haven’t been able to read all the asks regarding Artem’s 2nd anniv card so forgive me if I end up repeating some stuff others have said already. I was admittedly excited when i first saw the pv and when the translations came out, and then while I was watching it, I was mostly going “???” I really thought that Artem with the bouquet meant that he caught it during your typical bridal bouquet toss where they mean “oh, you have it so that means you’re going to get married next”, and then he just gets the idea to propose from there. BUT NO. I personally find it to be the worst context??? On one hand, I’m glad that Celestine and Jeremy were so supportive. I just… hate that that’s how the proposal happened. I mean, I don’t know if proposing at someone else’s wedding is a big social taboo everywhere in the world, and I guess it’s okay because the bride and the groom wanted it to happen but… I just wouldn’t have wanted to be in Rosa’s position.

I find it really ironic that both of Artem’s anniversary cards are just so public because he does advise against public romantic gestures in Xmas Partyland, but I thought it was forgivable in the first anniversary because it was preceded by episode four, of his personal story where they’ve heavily implied to each other that they’re both ready for a relationship. This time though, they haven’t even talked about getting married, which threw me off so much because they talk about everything (his birthday SSRs and his recent personal story event on CN)!!! This could have easily been solved if they just… added a scene (flashback or whatever) where they talk about the possibility of getting married and whether or not they’re on the same page. That’s one issue down.

I’m also just miffed that this card doesn’t really tie in with his previous cards. Maybe it’s because Eternal Yearning fed us so much with the red beans and the callback to Entwined Fate, but I was at least hoping that they would do the same in this one. They did a great job characterizing him with so much of the precious Artem-centric content, and they just threw it out the window. To be fair, I do think it was very in character of him to plan the proposal so early on and to go through such an extreme means to avoid making it obvious that he had a plan, and also I think to reassure her through the phone when she was nervous. But other than that??? It just doesn’t make sense for him to be a tad inconsiderate about about proposing and for him to pounce on her like /that/ at the third part.

I just think that narrative wise, it would make more sense that after confirming that she does, in fact want to get married, he proposed instead at Cloudbreak Temple, or the amusement park, or the film center? Then maybe the dialogue can allude to them shouldering each other’s weight for the rest of their lives and finally entwining their fates because of their own efforts, and then maybe they can reference that bit from About Time that he quoted from his first birthday event. Sorry, I’m just thinking out loud here. And then, I don’t know. Maybe they do sleep together after, but it has to be as awkward and earnest as it is steamy instead of… whatever it is that we got.

Sorry for this long rant dnsbs. I just wanted to hop in and say my piece because I do think it was a wasted opportunity that they have this character whose words and actions were husband-coded (if that makes sense???) from the beginning only to do him dirty through this card.

so i've been trying to figure out how to respond to this ask and convey just how much i agree with everything, so i'll settle on this: it feels like someone split me in two and then had the second me send an ask with all of my thoughts on the second anniversary card. i am not even kidding. holy shit anon, this was scary but in the best way ever HAHAHA

like, for anyone stumbling upon this post, give this ask a read, it literally nails everything. not even a single part where i’m like ehh yeah, i guess, just-- pure, full agreement. gonna ramble below.

i’m actually laughing because i thought i was the only one who remembered artem mentioning that in the xmas partyland event?? i’d kill to know the writer breakdown for this game. because i swear the writers for the main story, artem’s personal story + cards, events, and this second anniversary card all feel so different.

and like you say, first anniversary was totally fine because it was not only discussed beforehand, but because the amusement park was a last minute location change to cheer mc up.

this is also what i mean when i say i was even more baffled with the second anni card after watching his newer cn server cards and events. his birthday ssrs and his personal story event are sooo good and have them talk about serious life matters and what the future holds and i just can’t believe ?? they didn’t talk about MARRIAGE? they talked about how their workaholic natures might be the downfall of their future relationship... in the context of helping a married couple.... but they have NEVER talked about marriage? ALRIGHT!

his personal story event also has him mention how his parents want to have dinner with mc, and how mc asks if it’s too soon (after like 8 months of dating might i add, this event dropped in the cn server in march-ish), so he immediately says he can tell his mom not yet. i just. how is this the same guy who sprung a public proposal on her without her knowledge? months later? artemrosa is kinda the “slow paced” relationship of the four boys, so i just............

also totally agree how this second anniversary card felt detached from his other cards. im still working on responding to an anon who asked how i’d want the card to go, and one of my first thoughts was that the proposal had no ties to anything special to them. you mentioning about time made me GASP because i was literally thinking that. i was kinda expecting him to quote it when i watched the card. like a reference to a movie they both love? reference to the beans? ANYTHING. but no???

gosh im sobbing bc ive always loved that line about shouldering each other’s burdens. and that would have fit so well for a proposal.. it was originally said in the context of them being work partners, but now “partner” is taking on a new meaning, and yet. their thoughts on shouldering each others burdens hasnt changed and UHGHHHH WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL ANON!!!

i ALSO agree that artem spending forever planning the proposal and then avoiding eye contact for half a month were like, the two things i liked. it was the one thing that made me think, oh yeah, there’s the artem i know. i just wish it was in better context ugh :((

AND THE THIRD PART OF THE CARD. can i put “as awkward and earnest as it is steamy“ in a frame and put it up on the wall. that’s all i was expecting. seriously. i feel like some ppl have been pissed at me and have been assuming im a prude for disliking the card, or something. but. NO? holy shit, i just wanted it to be in character. artem has always been awkward but endearing, but GENUINE and passionate. i feel like any sort of nsfw would be self explanatory but i guess not??? ughhh im mad again HAHA

#asks #anon #tot spoilers #long post #fifty shades of artem #i'm so deeply tempted to put this in the artem tag but i don't want to risk it ugh #thank you for this anon it really made my day HAHA #i cant believe someone out there has identical takes to me #i was so excited when i first saw the bouquet toss card art and everything and i just.... man.......

[forever-living-products-world]

Valve wont allow awards and reviews on Steam store images starting in September

Valve won’t allow awards and reviews on Steam store images starting in September Valve won’t allow awards and reviews on Steam store images starting in September Valve’s new rules will prohibit text like this on an image. | Screenshot by Jay Peters / The Verge Valve is making a big change to the way developers can market their games on Steam. Beginning September 1st, graphical assets developers use in their store listings will only be able to include game artwork, the game’s name, and any official subtitle. Images won’t be able to include review scores, award names or logos, text that markets discounts, or text promoting a different product. The new rules could prove to be a drastic shift for some developers, as they may rely on reviews or awards on their images in an effort to stand out from the humongous number of games available on Steam. Even some developers of well-known games will have to make changes — while writing this article, I saw promotional images of Hades and It Takes Two on Steam that featured awards. Here’s Valve’s reasoning for the changes, from a blog post: It’s our goal to make it as clear and straightforward as possible for customers to find games to buy and play on Steam. Recently, we’ve noticed more text, award logos, and even review scores being included by game developers in their graphical asset images. This made us realize our guidelines haven’t been as clear as they should be. As a result of not having clearly-defined rules, we’ve seen additions to graphical assets that are creating a confusing and sometimes even inaccurate experience for customers. For example, some game logos themselves have become so small that it’s hard for players to tell what the name of the game is. In other cases, graphical asset images are so cluttered with award logos and ratings that it is distracting and hard to read. Some capsules include review scores that are no longer accurate. We also see that in most cases this additional text on assets is presented in English language only, isolating much of the Steam audience that doesn’t speak English. And Valve argues that review quotes, scores, and awards have dedicated spots on Steam store pages where developers can still include that information. But you might not see those if you’re just browsing through Steam in search of something new to play. Screenshot by Jay Peters / The Verge These awards will need to be removed from the It Takes Two image. Valve isn’t entirely banning text on assets; you can still include a game’s title or subtitle, and in one example in the blog post, the company encourages using text in artwork to promote a new update or content for your game. But any text you include will have to be localized into the languages that your game supports. You can read Valve’s full documentation here. This isn’t the first time Valve has laid down a mandate with big ramifications for developers. In 2018, after some controversy about what games should and shouldn’t be allowed on Steam, Valve said that it would allow “everything” on the store except for “things that we decide are illegal or straight up trolling.” Valve has also since banned blockchain games and NFTs. But the company has worked to improve its recommendations to help you see smaller titles you might like, which could help you see something new while you’re looking for your next game. https://ift.tt/6Wi40U8 https://ift.tt/S0XWUZg

#IFTTT #Blogger

[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.

#all these brown colors...how taurean of me #johnny smut #johnny angst #johnny fic #johnny scenario #johnny imagines #johnny imagine #johnny scenarios #nct fic #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct angst #ambw scenarios #ambw scenario #kpop ambw #ambw imagines #ambw imagine #ambw fic #ambw #nct vampire au #nct vampire

[mypoisonedvine]

Tattletale | (dark)stepbrother!Sam Wilson x reader

summary: your step-brother was kind enough to let you stay at his apartment just off-campus when you began your freshman year of college where he was a senior.  unfortunately, his kindness ran out when he learned about your secret side-hustle.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut!! (noncon/heavy dubcon and stepcest, they’re not biologically related but were raised from adolescence as siblings), facefucking, slapping, choking, degradation, coercion, DP (with a toy), anal play, possessive behavior, unprotected creampie, lots of crying/implied dacryphilia

this is a dark fic containing triggering topics, please do not read if this would be triggering for upsetting for you in any way.

Your step-brother (and roommate… and technically your landlord) wasn’t usually home when you got back from your Econ class, so you jumped a bit when you saw him nursing a beer in your shared living room; apparently, he was waiting for you.

“Hey, Sammy,” you greeted sheepishly, suddenly feeling self-conscious when his eyes raked over your body— it was hot out, so you just had on a tank top and cut-off shorts, but now you wish you’d covered up more.

“Hey,” he nodded back, setting the beer down and leaning back on the couch, “you got time to talk for a minute?”

His tone made you a little nervous, but his casual body language set you at ease.  He probably just wanted to ask if you could stay somewhere else over the weekend so he could have a girl over, or maybe he needed your help with one of his more difficult assignments— though frankly, you probably couldn’t help much with a senior-level project.  “Sure,” you shrugged, setting your backpack down and slipping off your shoes to join him on the couch.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really, I just feel like we don’t talk as much as we used to,” he explained with a little sigh.  Something about the way he glanced to the side for a moment made you wonder if he was being completely transparent.  “Remember when we were younger and we talked all the time?  Or when I moved away to start here and we called every day?  I miss that…”

You smiled a little, moving closer on the couch to rest your hand on his.  “Me too,” you admitted.  “I just figured you saw me as your annoying little sister.”

“I do,” he laughed, “but, you know, we used to be really close!  You used to tell me everything.  And now… now I don’t think you tell me everything.”

Your suspicion that this was more directed than he let on was growing, but you wanted to be close again, too, so you let it continue.  “Well, we’re older now so it’s not quite the same…”

“I guess it’s normal for siblings to grow apart when they’re adults, but, I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t see it coming with us.  And now that I’m letting you live here I thought it would be like old times; to be honest, that was part of why I had you move in in the first place.”

Just as you started to shift away, he flipped his hand and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.  “Sammy,” you whispered in shock, leaning back as much as you could even as he moved in closer.

“I think it’s the least you can do to be honest with me, sis,” he hissed.

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested, your gut sinking in fear of being reprimanded by him.  He was so friendly 99% of the time, but you were still terrified of those few memories you had of him getting angry with you.  Disappointing him was one of your greatest fears.

Sam laughed, but he didn’t exactly seem amused.  “Stop playing dumb, honey, I think you know what this is about.”

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, your heart dropping further when he reached for his phone.

“Got a text from Steve today,” he explained as he unlocked it.  “Wanna guess what it was?”

You swallowed dryly, more sure than ever that it was what you dreaded most.  “I don’t know, Sam…”

“I’ll give you a hint,” he grimaced, reading something from the screen.  “Kinky virgin horny for cock, 18, freshman at NYU.”

You looked away but he instantly grabbed your face and turned you to look at him.  “You know, I let you live here while you were in college so you could get an education.  Not be a fucking slut.  Did you think I wouldn’t find your OnlyFans?  Steve found it first, god knows what he did with these pictures before he sent them to me.  Is this what you wanted?  Any guy— even a guy we know— to get off to these pictures?”

Your shoulders slumped and your chest deflated as you started to cry.  “I’m s-so sorry, Sammy—”

“Don’t call me that,” he sneered.  “How stupid are you?  Did you think these would stay private?  Guys trade these all the time, they’re never secret for long.  How long have you been doing this, huh?  Must’ve been a while considering the sheer magnitude of content.  Looks like your first post was on your 18th birthday— Jesus fucking Christ, you couldn’t wait a minute could you?  I was there that day… when did you sneak off to take this little number, huh?”

You didn’t want to look as he turned the phone to you, but his hand tight around your wrist was a reminder not to struggle too hard.  You remembered taking the photo, and it had been during your party.  The idea of how wrong it would be to strip down in your parent’s bathroom to snap a picture in the mirror had only been more encouraging at the time.  For some reason you hadn’t considered that someone would find it; you cringed at the idea that Steve saw you entirely nude, let alone your brother.  It was humiliating.

“And what about this one, huh?  How fucking slutty are you?” he spat, pulling up another picture and shoving the phone in your face as you were confronted with the image of you on your bed with your legs spread, fingers toying with your clit.  “You really don’t leave anything to the imagination.”

“Sam, I didn’t— you weren’t supposed to—”

“Just stop talking.  I can barely look at you right now,” he shook his head.  “This stuff is seriously depraved, sis.  The idea of all these guys drooling all over my little sister… and you actually encouraged them, the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tears poured down your face, and you felt like the anger radiating off of him would burn your skin somehow.  

“And don’t give me some stupid fucking sob story about how you’re doing this to pay for school when I know damn well that mom and dad pay for your classes and I pay your fucking rent.  You didn’t do it for money; you did it for fun.  You did it ‘cause you’re a shameless fucking slut.”

“‘M not,” you denied, “Sam, really— I’m still a virgin, I don’t— you know I don’t do that.”

“You just fantasize about it.  And chat with strangers online about it.  And make videos going on and on about how bad you wanna get fucked.”

You shuddered as you realized: “You watched one of my videos?”

He grinned and pulled you closer.  “Baby… I watched all of them.”

Completely at a loss for words, you silently tried to squirm away only for him to wrap his other arm around you and pull you closer, ignoring your sobs of fear and confusion.

“You’re actually sorta talented, for a dumb little virgin who had no idea what she’s getting herself into,” he purred against your ear, starting to push up your tank top.

“N-no,” you whimpered, “Sam, stop— I’m sorry.  I’ll delete the account, I’m sorry.”

“Too late for apologies, little sis,” he cooed, “it’s not just the account.  It’s that you made those posts from my apartment, you took those pictures in the room that I gave you.  Not to mention the way you walk around in these tight clothes, teasing me just because you can.  This goes way deeper than a few dirty pictures, sweetheart, and you know it.”

When you tried to wriggle away again, he seemed to exert nearly no effort at all to be able to spin you around and pull you down into his lap, where the shape of his hard cock pressing against your ass was obvious.  “Sam, s-stop, this isn’t funny.”

“Damn right it isn’t funny, I’m dead fucking serious,” he growled against your ear.  “What was it that you said in your most recent video, the one where you were wearing a collar and using that gaudy pink vibe on your clit?  ‘I need your cock to ruin my hole, daddy’... am I remembering that right?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, and he laughed darkly against your ear as he pulled your hips into his.  

“Say it, then.  Like you said it in the video.”

“Sam, no—” 

“No?” he repeated incredulously.  “You can’t say no to me, honey.  Cause if you do, I’m gonna send all these pictures and videos to mom and dad, tell them all about how their precious little angel is selling her ass on the Internet with the phone they pay for and the laptop they bought.  What are they gonna say to that?  Think they’ll take you back after that, let you stay with them when I kick you out?  As if.  So unless you think one of these creeps online is gonna give you a place to stay, seems like I’m your only option.”

You choked on a sob as you cried harder, hating that he was right.  

“So you need to start doing what you’re told, or you’re gonna end up doing a lot worse with someone much less generous than me, got it?”

Terrified of him but unable to imagine the alternative, you nodded.

“Then.  Fucking.  Say it.”

“I…” you began, sounding weak and weepy compared to the original video you were quoting, “I need your cock… to ruin my hole… daddy.”

“Eh, needs improvement but it’s a start,” he shrugged, throwing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you.  When you tried to protest, or at least turn around to face him, he slapped your ass harshly and it stung even through the denim shorts.  “I have needs too, sis.  Can’t hardly get any when you’re here all damn day being a fucking cockblock.  And frankly, since you started dressing like this and acting like a whore, I haven’t even been able to think about anybody else… can’t get hard for anyone but my slutty little sister.”

He leaned down to press his body against yours, pinning you against the cool leather by your shoulders.  

“Steve told me about your account weeks ago, babe… I’ve been getting off to your cute little pictures ever since.”

It made you wince, but it made him laugh.  Shame and fear and disgust swirled in your gut and made you nauseous, his grip on you tight enough to leave a bruise as he dug his fingertips into your skin.  When he sat back up, he started pulling at your jean shorts roughly, ripping them slightly as he shoved them down to your thighs.

“Wow, look at this pretty little ass,” he groaned.  “A thousand guys have seen it, but it’s better in person.”  He slapped you again on either cheek, hard enough to make you yelp.  “What’s the matter, sis, I thought you liked being spanked?  You talk about it all the time.  You talk about how you want me to spank you raw and leave marks all over your body, hurt you and break you and claim you.”

“I— I wasn’t talking about you,” you defended, remembering how you always addressed the viewer when dirty talking in your videos, but keeping it generic enough that any guy could imagine it was him.

“Then who did you think about when you got off?  Who was it that got you wet for your videos?” he pressed.  “Because you’re wet right now… and I’m the only one here.”

You shook your head, you tried to speak to deny it, but words escaped you as he flipped you around and hovered above your face.

“Do you get wet for anybody, baby, is that it?  Will you spread your legs for any cock?  Or do you just have a special place in your cunt for your big brother?”

Your stunned silence earned you a slap to the face, sending your head spinning to the side as your cheek stung and burned.  Just as the heat of the impact really started to get to you, he hit you on the other side, and again, until you finally gave him an answer: “You!” you yelped suddenly.  “You, Sam, just you!”

He laughed a little, leaning down and capturing your lips in an unexpected, dominating kiss.  It was awkward and sloppy, exactly the sort of kiss one would expect when it was forced; just as passionless and confused on your end as a kiss to your step-sibling should be.  But he moaned against you and forced his tongue deeper into your mouth, hands coming down to grope your tits through your tank top and bra.  Trying to push him away was beyond useless, and he slapped you again without even breaking his lips away from yours.  Soon he was reaching to pull down your top— no, wait, he was tearing through it, and your bra snapped like a rubber band against his strength.  When he grabbed your breasts again, without any clothing in the way this time, your nipples were hard and sensitive between his fingers; it was so obvious that he smiled into the kiss, biting your lip playfully.  “Wow, you really do like this.  Your step brother’s forcing himself on you and you’re such a whore that you’re actually into it.”

He slapped your breast, just hard enough to sting, and you cried out; he did it again and your back arched.

“Yeah, I knew you just needed to be put in your place, little sis.  Just needed me to fix your attitude, that’s all.”  He wrapped his hand around your neck, not squeezing enough to cut off airflow but obviously threatening it, before leaning down to whisper in your ear: “get on the ground, on your knees.”

Even for what was left of your virginal innocence, you knew what he wanted.  Wordlessly, your only sounds the weak little sobs that shook your chest, you slipped out from beneath him and onto the floor by the couch.  He shifted to sit in front of you with wide legs, thick thighs spread as he looked down at you with an expression of anticipation.  

“Get on with it, honey, I know you know how.  Seen you choke on your toys a thousand times.”

After taking a stabilizing breath to cope with what was happening, shivering from the cold air on your exposed upper half, you sat up slightly and reached for his belt.  You’d felt it pressed against you before, but now you could see the shape of his cock threatening to burst out of his jeans, so thick and long that you were confident he heard the little gasp you let out.  And yet, you knew you had to trek forward, so you began to unclasp his belt before unzipping his fly.  He lifted his hips to help you pull his pants and boxers down, but other than that he was too busy stroking the side of your face with his fingers in a move much too delicate for the situation.  You stopped breathing for a second when you saw the size of him, his cock bouncing up when you released it to slap against his stomach.

“Sam, I can’t,” you sighed, starting to back away, “I’ve never— it won’t fit.”

“Nah, baby, it’s okay,” he encouraged gently, pulling you closer, “you can take it just fine.  Just open your mouth, sis…”

He guided the tip of his cock between your lips, still swollen from his bruising kiss, and you whimpered when you felt his warm skin against your tongue, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked out slow and steady.

“Yeah, just like that, now go ahead and suck on me,” he instructed, groaning when you closed your lips and hollowed your cheeks, using your tongue to tease the slit like you’d read online was a good thing to do.  He chuckled and bucked up into you, holding your head as he started to pump his hips and slowly fill your mouth to the brim.  “See, you can do it— now choke on it.”

When he pushed in until you gagged, your first instinct was to push on his thighs and try to get away for air, but he held you down as he hissed through his teeth.

“I know you can take all of me in your throat if you just stop fucking fighting,” he hissed, slapping you one more time which caused your throat to open up in shock— and it was just enough for him to shove in deeper, groaning at the feeling.  “Yeah, that’s it… fuck…” he sighed, moving his hips faster.  The struggle for air made your eyes water (although you hadn’t really had much of a chance to stop crying in the first place) as your grip on his thighs tightened.  “I bet your pussy is getting so wet for me right now,” he chuckled, “I bet you love choking on my cock, huh?”

You tried to shake your head but you couldn’t really move much; he pulled you off of his length by your hair, just in time to give you a much-needed sputtering gasp for air.

“Fuck, I’d love to fill that pretty throat with my come,” he smiled— a sinister sort of grin that made you shudder as you looked up with him, feeling spit and pre-cum on your lips and chin— “but I know what you want.  Since you’ve spent all year begging to lose your virginity on the internet, I figure I’ll be nice and give you what you’ve been asking for.”

Before you could even begin to consider a response to that, he hoisted you up and threw you back onto the couch, spreading your legs as you looked away in shame.

“Yep, I was right, you’re fuckin’ soaked,” he laughed.  “You nasty little slut, are you actually getting off on this?  Wow.”

A renewed sense of ‘dear god this cannot happen’ shot through you as he leaned down and slid his cock over your folds, teasing your clit with his swollen head.  “Sam, stop, please…”

“I’m kind of getting tired of you begging,” he hissed as he leaned down, glaring right into your eyes as you froze beneath him.  “I’m obviously not going to stop,” he explained as his hand slipped around your throat, “you dumb fucking bitch.”

Your ability to fight back was taken with your opportunity to breathe, his strong fingers cutting off blood flow to your head quickly as he clamped down on your neck.  Instantly you clawed at his hand, your vision starting to go a little spotty, and he laughed at you coldly before letting go.  And when he finally did, his hand moved instead to hold both your wrists above your head while the other guided his cock into your pulsing entrance.  When he pushed his hips forward, the air was punched from your lungs as your back arched, a sharp pain reverberating over your body from the stretch of him inside you.

“Fuck!” he groaned, pushing in deeper, slow but consistent.  “You’re tight, baby, you really did need a cock to ruin this hole, huh?  Fuck, ‘m gonna, just hold still…”

But how could you hold still, when every instinct had you moving your hips to try to push his cock out, your hands tightening into fists as they tried to fight against his strength.  Of course, now that he was inside, he had a second arm to hold you down with, but the terrifying thing was that he really only needed the one.  “Sam!” you sobbed, your own voice sounding foreign with the way it wavered and cracked.

“Yeah, baby, that’s me inside you,” he purred, “that’s your big brother’s cock tearing up this little pussy…”

When he roughly shoved the rest of himself inside, the tip of his cock found the end of you and your eyes shot open.  He smiled down at you as he examined your face; twisted in pain, and glistening with tears turned greyish-black by your mascara.

“None of your toys ever went this deep in you before, huh?  Poor thing, should’ve known you were all talk… you don’t even know how to take those big cocks you drool over.  I can’t even imagine what you’ll be like when I put this in your ass.”

He cackled at the pure terror that danced over your expression, and the way your walls tightened around him briefly.  

“Relax, sis, not today.  I’m just sayin’, if you want me to keep my mouth shut to mom and dad, you’re gonna have to keep me happy.  Lucky for you, I’m very happy right now, snug inside this sweet little cunt of yours…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your cheek and moving to suck on your ear, bite your neck, lick up and down over your pulse.  He was waiting, you realized, for your body to relax so he could move inside you with less resistance.  You were a little surprised he didn’t just jackhammer into you with no regard for your pain, but you had a feeling that part was coming soon anyways.

He reached down to pull your legs up, guiding them to wrap around his hips, and the new angle forced his cock a little deeper which made you squeal.  The sound morphed into a stuttered moan, however, when he pulled back out of you slowly, savoring every detail of your walls as he sighed against your skin.

When he slammed back home, your nails dug into your own palms.

“Baby,” he whispered, “you’re close, aren’t you?  Just from this.  You always came so fast in your videos…”

Irritatingly, he was right; your walls were flexing as more slick coated his thick shaft, dripping down until you could hear the wetness whenever his hips slapped into yours.  You couldn’t help it, considering how he pushed right into your g-spot with every stroke inside you, hitting every sensitive place harder and better than any toy ever had.

“See, baby?  We were made for each other,” he cooed.  “You were made to take this cock.  You were meant to be my little fucktoy.”

You hated the way his words only added to your pleasure, pushing you right up to the edge— which his cock slamming all the way into you one last time finally sent you over.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped when he felt the force of your orgasm, smiling pridefully as your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against the couch.  “So sensitive, sweetheart, and so fucking wet for me…”

He fucked you faster and— somehow— deeper, chasing his own release with aggressive thrusts into you.  Each of his low grunts against your ear sent shivers down your spine, your legs around him tightening to pull him closer.

Just as you thought he might find his rhythm for a while and maybe, if you were lucky, be finished with you soon, he pulled out quickly and patted your thigh.  “Hands and knees, baby,” he instructed, watching you shakily turn around and lift yourself on weak arms.  It was short-lived, though, as he pushed your face back down into the couch cushion, forcing your back into a dramatic arch that made you feel like your body was on display for him.  As if that wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, you couldn’t even see him much anymore, which meant you had no idea what he was reaching for when he leaned back— but you heard what it was when he turned it on.  “Oh, you recognize this?” he mused.  “It was my favorite of everything I saw you use.”

He rubbed the vibrator over your folds slowly, chuckling a little when you jolted each time it brushed against your clit.  You didn’t really understand why he would want to fuck you with a vibe when he seemed to have been enjoying doing it himself; but then he slid it up a little higher, to your other hole, and you gasped.  “S-Sam,” you pleaded.

“I know you took it here before.  I watched you do it.  I even heard you the night you filmed it— these walls are thinner than you think, sis.”

Shame burned on your face as you imagined him listening to you put something up your ass for the first time, only for him to see the video the next morning when you uploaded it.

“Do you think it’s gonna feel different when I put it in while I fuck you?” he mused, pushing the vibrating tip of it into your hole.  Thankfully it was pretty slender, so the stretch wasn’t bad, but the vibrations were strong enough that you could feel them everywhere, and you realized he would be able to feel them, too, while he was inside you.  “You’re gonna be so fuckin’ full, sis, stuffed to the brim just like you wanted.”

He pushed the toy in deeper until your hands clutched at the sofa beneath you, which was apparently his cue to guide his cock back into your drenched pussy.  Just as he promised, you felt so full that you had no idea how to cope with it, your legs shaking as you tried not to collapse beneath him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, moving himself and the toy at alternating paces inside you as you mindlessly drooled onto the cushion, your overstimulated body barely able to handle the sensations he was forcing upon you.  “You like being my little fucktoy, don’t you?  You’re so pretty like this, so pretty being used just like you deserve.”

“Sammy, please,” you sobbed, barely intelligible as you couldn’t really string your thoughts together anymore.

“You want more, huh?  Needy little slut,” he snarled, but the way he said it almost sounded like a compliment.  It certainly made your heart swell as if it was.  He fucked you faster, then, and pushed the vibrator as deep into your ass as it would go until you were sobbing and blubbering and basically just a complete mess beneath him.  “Keep squeezin’ me so tight and I’m gonna come inside you, sweetheart,” he moaned.

Some part of your brain was still aware enough to know that that was not a good idea, but you didn’t even really think to tell him not to because you knew he would anyway.  Finally, you had accepted that he was going to do whatever he wanted with you and your resistance only brought out his crueler side.  

“Fuck, come again for me,” he demanded, “come on my cock while I come inside you— that’s it, cream on my fucking cock while I fill you up, slut.”

It was jarring, the way his words suddenly knocked you over the edge again as you cried out, fresh tears filling your eyes and joining the damp spot beneath your face on the couch.  You felt both your holes clenching around the intrusions he had filled them with, your head going fuzzy and your limbs going numb from the intensity of your peak; waves of warmth washed over you as you slumped down a little bit, the distant sound of his praises just barely reaching your ringing ears.

His free hand held your hips tightly while the other kept pumping the vibrator into you, and even through all the overwhelming stimuli going on at the moment, you could feel his cock beginning to flex deep inside you.  Each pump of his come painting the deepest parts of you coincided with a low moan from him, the sound so cruelly perfect and forcing your channel to clamp down on him, weakly, one last time.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned as he caught his breath, turning off the vibrator before slowly pulling it out of you and tossing it aside.  He kept his cock inside for longer, though, as he rubbed your ass and back gently.  “You’re gonna be such a good little fucktoy for me, sis, I just know it.”

He let you drop when he pulled out of you, your spent body limp and leaking on the couch as he stared down at you.

“I think you need a shower, sweetheart,” he chuckled.  “But first, you need to give me the password to your OnlyFans so I can help you delete it, okay baby?  We don’t need anybody else looking at what’s mine.”

#sam wilson smut #dark!sam wilson x reader #sam wilson dark fic

[vizowrites]

“We” vs “Me”| or “Why BlitzStrike Works So Well For Me But Stolitz [as of episode 6].....Doesn’t”

Alright my Loves, so I said that I was going to talk in further detail about my feelings regarding Stolas and the multi-layered portrayal of his relationship with Blitz in the new episode, and today’s the day where that happens!!  First of all, though, before I really get into my feelings about things, I want to just make it ABUNDANTLY clear that I’m not trying to sway anyone from one side to the other, or trying to shame anyone for shipping two fictional characters.  I’m fully in the boat that you are completely entitled to ship whoever you want, but I also think it’s wise to at least be able to recognize the faults and flaws in a pairing--and especially to be able to recognize them in the context of an IRL relationship.  In this analysis in particular, I’m specifically focusing on these two relationships within the realm of the Helluva Boss universe [......Hell] and within the specific context of their characters as they’ve been portrayed in the show thus far.  And, my biggest disclaimer of all: I’m doing this for no other reason than I felt like putting my jumbled thoughts together into a cohesive post so that they don’t have to stay bouncing and buzzing around in my head.  Please keep that in mind that this is just pure personal opinion and interpretation before anyone comes at me with torches and pitchforks.  <3 <3 

SO WITH THAT LONG ASS DISCLAIMER OUT OF THE WAY 

Let’s finally get to the good stuff.  And the not so good stuff.  :D

So I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone who follows me here that I’m a huge BlitzStrike fan.  What I think fewer people know is that when I first entered the fandom a few months ago, I actually was on board the Stolitz train like so many others that I’ve met here in the fandom.  Naturally Stolitz was the first major pairing I was introduced to, and I did find both the characters of Blitz and Stolas incredibly interesting and compelling in their own rights AND saw the potential in how they could really come to grow into one hell of a relationshp over time.  I was honestly really excited to see it happen, too.  

And then I watched Episode 5 [still my favorite episode, btw] for the first time and had this sudden question hit me like a truck that even now is still relentlessly burning in the back of my mind because I still haven’t found a legitimate answer for it: Why in the FUCK wasn’t Blitz falling head-over-heels in attraction to Striker throughout this fucking episode??

And I don’t mean that in a “They’re so hot and I ship them now why didn’t they get together?? DX DX” kind of way--I mean that in the genuinely perplexed “I don’t understand based on what has been presented to me thus far about Blitz as a character and the storyline overall why he’s reacting so nonchalantly to this whole thing”.  To Note: This is me wondering this from the context of what’s in the show itself, not from any extra fan materials like the Instas or Twitter or just straight up knowing that the most likely answer is that there are people on the creative team that ship Stolitz really hard and realistically wouldn’t have probably written Blitz as being attracted to Striker because that would just be--to quote Jack Sparrow--blowing holes in their own ship.  No, this is me disregarding ALL of that and trying to rationalize this with myself from the perspective of a fan whose entire knowledge of the show and its characters comes exclusively from what’s in the episodes themselves.  .....And that’s where I just can’t find my answer, except for the Stolitz positive “He’s not attracted to Striker because he’s in love with Stolas” answer.  Which really doesn’t even feel like a satisfying answer, because the entire vibe I’ve gotten from Stolitz in the show has just felt.....strangely.....off.  Like, the framework is there and the elements are there, but I’d felt as though they had so far to go still that it would be entire SEASONS before they got there.    

And THEN the new episode [Episode 6] came out and I’d heard a handful of fans going crazy because the show was finally addressing Stolitz in full, and I thought to myself, “Well, maybe if the show really is going to go with saying that the reason Blitz wasn’t interested in Striker is because he’s in love with Stolas.....sure.  I’m curious to see how they finally establish it in an episode, especially since there’s only two more episodes left in the entire first season.”  And then I watched the episode.  And then it hit me why Stolitz just does not do a damn thing for me but BlitzStrike does despite the fact that we’ve had 4/6 episodes [5/7 if you count the Pilot] of Stolitz but only 1/6 [1/7] of potential--not even canonical--BlitzStrike:

When Striker talks about Blitz, or interacts with Blitz, he always talks about them as a “we”.  As a team.  A partnership.  OR he just straight up puts the entire focus on Blitz and his accomplishments and keeps himself out of it entirely.

When Stolas talks about Blitz, he always talks about them within the context of “me”--of himself--of what Blitz does or should do for him.  Even here in episode 6, in the most “selfless” instance we’ve seen yet, where he does ask about Blitz’s safety first BEFORE going right back into how Blitz’s actions affect him and what Blitz should be doing in response for him.  Stolas’s focus is always automatically set to himself--and even when it comes to the people he supposedly loves the most.  

To explain what I mean here, let me give some examples directly from the show itself, starting with the Stolas side of things: 

Episode 1

Blitz, in the middle of trying to hide so much that he actually clamps both of his hands over his mouth just to muffle the sound of his own breathing, knowing damn well that this psychotic bitch who already shot him once won’t hesitate to do it again if she finds him.....gets a call from Stolas.  Stolas, who we clearly see from his leisurely hang out time in his bubble bath, is literally watching this happen and is fully aware that calling Blitz right then was potentially putting him in danger. But what does he say when he gets Blitz on the phone?  He offers--not help--but Blitz the use of his book in exchange for monthly sex.  Stolas literally uses Blitz’s peril as leverage here--consciously or not, though given the fact that he knows the situation at hand, I’d find it very hard to argue that he didn’t do this on purpose--just to get him to agree to be his bootycall until further notice.  

Stolas not only doesn’t lift a finger to help Blitz once in all of this--even at the moment where he and Millie are about to be shot in the face--but instead continues to stay on the phone talking about all of the things he wants for their upcoming future rendezvous.  He already got exactly what he wanted out of this and he still just continues to go for more for himself.

Episode 2

.....There are honestly so many fucked up things that happen here as far as Stolas and his relationship with Blitz goes but honestly the thing I want to draw the MOST attention to is actually Stolas’s storyline with his daughter, Octavia.  I know it’s a little left field, but bear with me--this is actually something I want to use as comparison for Stolas’s relationship to Blitz as we go along:

When Stolas first decides that he’s going to take his daughter to Loo Loo Land, he does so while completey setting aside the fact that she doesn’t want to go.  He just offers her assurances that it’s going to be so much fun because he remembers that she loved it so much when she was a little girl--effectively putting his memory above her wishes even as she’s sitting right there and telling him that she doesn’t enjoy the idea of going now.  

Stolas doesn’t actually notice just how uncomfortable he’s making Octavia throuhought their entire trip by spending his time sexually harassing paying more attention to Blitz than he is trying to cheer her up.  This tells me that Stolas--though I do believe he genuinely wanted to do something to make her happy--still wasn’t able to completely overcome his own self-centered tendencies at first even when it’s for her.  And this is the person that Stolas loves more than anyone or anything else in the entire world. It still wasn’t enough.

It’s only when Octavia runs off and completely breaks down that Stolas finally gets the much needed slap-to-the-face of reality to understand just what he’s putting his daughter through--and, for the first time in the entire show, he actually puts someone else’s needs and well being above himself.  It’s the one solid honest display of love that we see from Stolas in the entire show--and it’s how we as the audience come to learn that that’s how Stolas shows that he loves someone: When he puts their needs above his own with no strings attached or expectations of something in return.  A true selfless act just because he loves them.  **Keep in mind the parallel of Stolas carrying Octavia out of Loo Loo Land at the end, and how it compares to Stolas carrying Blitz out of D.H.O.R.K.S headquarters.

Episode 5

The. Fucking. Cigarette.  I had no idea that something so small and quick would be able to infuriate me as much as it did, but the fact that Blitz used the post sex cigarette to free Stolas from his wrist bondage but then Stolas turned around and put the cigarette out on Blitz’s horn which is literally a part of Blitz’s body just.....honestly it sums up exactly what I’m trying to get across in this entire huge ass post: Stolas only ever thinks of himself first and anything pertaining to anyone else just doesn’t cross his mind at all unless you blatantly put it there in front of his face.  And the fact that he’s still at this point with Blitz all the way here in Episode 5 is not.....promising for their relationship.

The fact that Stolas literally cannot stop himself from calling Blitz “Blitzy” or talking to him in such a condescending way no matter how frustrated Blitz gets and how many times he asks him to stop.  I just--how is that supposed to be interpreted as someone talking to a person that they love?  There’s no respect or dignity given to Blitz at all on Stolas’s part, and the fact that it seems to be presented as a “Oh teehee it’s just their cute couple thing” is just.....I really, really don’t like that.  It also doesn’t match with the Stolas in the very next episode which I quite frankly think is because the creators have been listening to the feedback from fans and were like “We need to SHOW THEM that Stolas actually does speak to Blitz respectfully!!” but that’s just my personal opinion there and, also, it still didn’t happen.  

Episode 6 

Keeping in mind that THIS is finally the episode where we see Stolas actually save Blitz from danger and demonstrate even the slightest inclination towards his well-being.....I think that honestly makes the next few things here even more fucked up

First and foremost: “WE”.  The second after Stolas asks if Blitz is alright and gets the assurance that he is, he roughly grabs his cheek and points out that “If you get in trouble, I get in trouble!  WE don’t want that”.  The fact that this is the first time that Stolas ever talks about Blitz in the context of “we”--when really what he’s really saying is that him [Stolas] getting in trouble is going to be a bad thing for all of them--is just.....so, so disappointing.  At least with this I could hope that perhaps the idea here is that Stolas is genuinely afraid that if he gets in trouble, he won’t be able to protect Blitz from the undoubtedly much worse trouble that he would be in as an imp, but still.  The fact that Stolas immediately reverts back to his self-centered perspective so quickly after supposedly being so worried about Blitz’s wellbeing, really makes it seem as though it’s just his own ass that he’s trying to protect.  And that.....isn’t  exactly what I’d been expecting from “the episode that confirms Stolitz is canon” feedback I’d been hearing.

"Am I going to get ANY thank you for the rescue Bltizy?”  This for me was kind of what actually lead to me having this whole epiphany over Stolas’s selfish perspective in the first place.  I realized that even here--even when he’s just been the most “romantic” towards Blitz that he’s ever been in any previous episodes up until now [and yes this shift in his character was incredibly jarring for me because of that]--Stolas still goes right back to thinking about what he’s going to get out of this now that he knows Blitz is safe.  Let’s take this back to that thing I was saying about Episode 2 and comparing how Stolas rescued Octavia and how he rescues Blitz.  Obviously they’re going to be different because it’s Stolas’s daughter vs his hook up BUT just think about where the focus is for Stolas in both of these scenes.  With Octavia, Stolas is entirely focused on making things up to her--taking her to do something she wants to do--even if it’s something that he himself doesn’t fully understand or isn’t fully into.  That doesn’t matter though, because the entire point is that he’s doing something just for her.  It doesn’t have to be about him.  But now go back to the scene where Stolas is carrying Blitz out of the room.  What does he do?  Ask what Blitz is going to do for him.  That just takes the idea that this scene was a confirmation of their love and throws it right out the window.  Stolas--as we’ve been shown before--would never ask for something in return from someone that he actually loves.  

Now let’s take a look at the one and only episode we have of Striker and Blitz interacting together, with an honorary shout out at hallucination!Striker’s appearance in Episode 6: 

Episode 5: 

Striker knows Blitz’s name.....and he uses it.  He’s literally the ONLY other character that we’ve seen so far refer to Blitz as “Blitz” instead of “Blitzo” or “Blitzy” by someone who wasn’t a member of I.M.P..  Aka someone who wasn’t a member of Blitz’s family.  He shows Blitz respect at that basest level, and only builds on that from there going forward.

Striker first recognizes Blitz for being “the bold imp that started his own killin’ biz”.  Not his hotness, not his skills in the Harvest Moon games because at that point he hasn’t seen them yet.....but for his accomplishment in starting up his own successful business down in Hell.  He treats it as an accomplishment.  With the kind of respect that comes with acknowledging another person for their accomplishments.  Right there, within two seconds of meeting him, Striker demonstrates more respect for Blitz than Stolas has yet to do in the entire show.

The Harvest Moon Festival Games.  Now this is something I find fascinating to think about from Striker’s perspective in particular.  We as the audience are shown pretty early on that Striker has a strong desire to be the one who comes out on top.  He likes the idea of being superior and he openly relishes in the praise and attention he gets for being better than everybody else.  ....Except Blitz.  When they tie in the games, Striker doesn’t seem bothered with sharing the spotlight with him at all.  If anything, he--again--respects just how skilled Blitz is in rightfully earning his place beside him on the stage.  That, to me, is HUGE.  I’m not going to go so far as to say that Striker necessarily sees them as equals because I think that might be going a bit too far for his ego but he does still fully acknowledge that Blitz is in the same general class as him: that is to say, better than most.  Worthy of the same kind of acknowledgement and praise that Striker gets.  I literally can’t get over just how big of a thing that is for what we’ve been shown of Striker’s character, and I think it’s unfortunately something that’s incredibly easy to miss or gloss over. :(

And now--for what I personally think is the most significant thing of all--we have: “We”.  How many times does Striker suggest during that final scene between them that he really wants Blitz to join forces with him as equals?  He never demands that Blitz join up with him, he doesn’t threaten him into joining up with him--Striker barely even hurts Blitz at all during their fight scene compared to how he tried to straight up murder Moxxie--and, most of all, Striker continues to acknowledge that Blitz deserves better than his current arrangement with Stolas.  And he’s right.  But instead of putting it as “I’M right and this is why you should do this”, he always puts his focus on Blitz himself, or the two of them together as a partnership:  “You are so above sucking on a a digusting rich pompous Goetia” | “We could be the most dangerous beings in Hell, Blitz” | “You could partner up with me and klll the unkillable--starting with the one that treats you like a plaything”.  It’s just--I honestly can’t believe it’s taken me this long to put together why Striker appeals so much more to me as a romantic interest for Blitz, but really breaking it down episode by episode and comparing the differences in wording between Striker and Stolas’s dialogue when it comes to Blitz is just.....holy shit. 

Honorary ShoutOut of Episode 6: 

The fact that the only thing hallucination Striker has to say to him is “But you don’t want to do things alone Blitzo!” is really, really interesting to me in the fact that he’s.....not......wrong??  Like, To be fair, Striker, RoboFizz, and Verosika all spill their harsh truths, but the thing is.....Striker’s is markedly different in that his wording really isn’t harsh or aggressive at all the way the other two are.  He’s just kinda stating a fact in an overexaggerated way because tripping balls hallucination sequence.  It’s very interesting to me that that’s the worst that Blitz can imagine him to say--as well as the fact that halluci!Striker calls him “Blitzo”, which is really weird considering that Striker’s never called him “Blitzo” once in the entire show.  Makes me kinda wonder where that came from tbh. 

Alright so, in conclusion of this very long and rambly styie post: I want to take things back to where I started by reiterating that this is not me trying to convince anyone that BlitzStrike is “right” and Stolitz is “wrong”, or that you should stop shipping what you’re shipping in the fandom.  This was just me honestly getting way more excited than I should’ve been over having my “Eureka!” moment for realizing why this new episode didn’t put me back on the Stolitz train like it did for so many other people--and why, in fact, it actually made me think even more favorably of the idea of Blitz and Striker being together.  

Thanks for sticking around with me for this very long read, I hope you found it interesting, and I really really hope that it didn’t piss anyone off or rub too many people the wrong way.  Like I said at the beginning, ship who you want to ship!!  That’s part of the fun of being in a fandom.  I’m just hoping that this might help make it easier to understand at least one perspective on why Stolitz is seen as being so problematic as a ship [as of where they are right now].  

Here’s to seeing where things go from here!! 

#vizowritesthoughts #BlitzStrike #Stolitz #Helluva Boss #hahahahaha I've been dreading posting this because I know it's going to lead to shit even though it's all just personal opinion :'D #but since I went to the trouble of writing this entire thing up I figure what the hell #might as well post it now #anti Stolitz

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #1-3

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

Warnings: angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I know I said Death and Angel would come out next, but I got such a inspiration high and the words came out so quickly I just told myself screw it and decided to share what I have. If anyone thinks this is a series worth pursuing, let me know. If you don’t, well, just be gentle please 💖

Cross-posted on AO3

Entries #4-6

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

My name is Ezra. 

I have my mama to thank for that. Time has erased her face from my memory, but her voice is ingrained into the tissue of my brain the same way these words are inked on this parchment. She was a bonafide believer that the meaning of a child’s name influenced the course of their destiny. When I was no taller than the height of her waist I learned my own name’s denotation: help.

It’s just a tick too ironic, isn’t it? To be destined to help others when I can’t help my own self. I gave the Green far too little credit. It didn’t just pilfer my arm to satisfy its ravenousness, it greedily stole my sense of purpose too. 

Every night I thank the deities you didn’t accompany me there. If the Green had taken you...

I know how worried you are about me, little love of mine. When I look at you, I find you already looking back, a sweet smile gracing your lips even as concern burns in your eyes as an eternal flame. From day one you’ve always been looking at me, seeing every disgraced flaw and scar—even the invisible ones carved into the darkest edges of my soul. Kevva knows I’ve never been capable of concealing anything from you, but fuck if I don’t wish I could sometimes.

You’re asleep now as I write this, tucked against my side in the vacant space my arm once occupied, drooling on my shirt. I love you so much it hurts. A black hole in my chest perpetually aching to be filled by your presence. And as we venture once more into the starry sea, our ship gliding past the imaginary wings of Noctua, I find myself recalling a theory you once told me many cycles ago about humans being made in the womb with stardust infused in their bones, linking them to the universe. You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

And it’s undoubtedly selfish, but all I could think of in that tender moment beyond kissing you was how I didn’t want an eternity spent together with our cosmic bodies intertwined. 

I want longer.

Soon after we awoke and each consumed a slice of bush bread bought during our recent docking at Kamrea, you fiddled with the channels on the ship’s radio, hoping to hear news from your homeworld but cursing when you only heard static. Then, without an ounce of forewarning, music burst out with an almighty scream through the speakers at full volume, flooding the whole compartment with a woman’s warbling. It was the same crusted Vayok song that merc Inumon blared in my ears during my last night on the Green, every note an individual needle piercing my skull, impossible to ignore.

Reality deserted me, leaving me to sink to the depths of the abyss within my mind where all I could see was Cee’s pale, disturbed expression as she looked to me for guidance. I remembered how my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth as I tried my damnedest to negotiate our transport, thinking if I could just piece together the right sequence of words, if I could just get their lingering eyes off of her, then maybe, maybe we’d have a chance at salvation. 

The memories coalesced, overlapping and blurring and mixing out of order. Each one was drenched in spilt blood.

Then your pinky wrapped around mine. The touch was soft yet firm, the action childlike in its innocence. It was such a jarring contradiction to my mind’s violent narrative, my consciousness was hurtled back into the living quarters of our ship as a result. You didn’t say anything when you saw I returned to you. Instead, you swallowed down the questions lodged in your throat and led me by our entwined fingers back to our bed.

There’s a plant back home called a dandelion, you told me with my head resting in your lap, a far better comfort than any pillow could provide me. It’s the only plant in the galaxy you can see the sun, the moon and the stars when you look at it. That’s not why it’s my favorite though.

I asked how it had won your heart’s favor if not due to its resemblance to the celestial bodies, then immediately found myself mesmerized by the smile that lit up your face as you peered down at me. My chest cavity tightened as I was filled with the profound longing to be able to suspend time, if only so I could stretch this moment to match the length of our separation, if only so I could erase the old and replace it with the beautiful new.

Dandelions grant wishes, babe. Anything you wish for with your whole heart, it will be yours to have.

I told you I wouldn’t wish for anything—nothing else in the galaxy could compare to the prettiest, wisest soul I’d ever encountered in all my years traversing it. You saw right through that lie with the same confident ease you see through all my masks and diversions, but—for the second time in the span of an hour—you held your tongue.

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine. 

When you read, whether it be a book or the flight manual, you have the precious habit of mouthing the words. I don’t think you have the faintest notion you’re even doing it, which makes it all the more endearing to watch.

My brother had a similar habit, always nose deep in the yellowing pages of classic literature, except he had a proclivity to spoil the plot when he talked in his sleep. I remember there was one particular novel he returned to often, sometimes reading from beginning to end, other times seeking out specific segments he’d underlined in bold, black pen. It was a rather dreary tale about war and rivalry and the process of determining one’s own identity. I became so exasperated with my brother’s obsession I considered shredding it on more than one occasion, only to immediately hate myself for entertaining the thought.

It was only after his death—twelve whole cycles, in fact—that I summoned up the will to open the front cover. Seeing his name scribbled in the corner, cursive and neat and so utterly him, nearly had me tearing the book in half, overcome with a vicious rage I had never known prior nor have I encountered since. But by the almighty grace of Kevva I reigned it in, chaining it to the agony and fear imprisoned within the confines of my rib cage, and turned the page.

There was one segment underlined not once, but three times, nearly bleeding ink onto the page behind it. When I close my eyes, the words are tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, as haunting as they are comforting.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

The author lived and died centuries before my brother’s inception, that is an inarguable fact. 

But I know those words were written for him all the same. 

Notes: 

There is an actual theory humans are made of stardust ✨

The Sater within Prospect mention the Currents as being responsible for bringing Ezra and Cee to them, so I imagine them as similar to the Fates/Moirai in Greek mythology.

Noctua is a real life, extinct constellation that is Latin for owl. I thought within this Prospect universe it could exist as a type of landmark or coordinate. Plus I love owls 🦉

Crusted is a term from Prospect Ezra uses. Equivalent of damn. I think there’s something funny about how they use creamy as a positive adjective and crusted as negative.

Vayok is the alien language Inumon speaks within the movie, so I decided to write the song she blares as being sung in the same language

Bush bread is referenced in a deleted scene by Ezra, but a google search revealed to me it’s also a real life type of bread too

In the same deleted scene Ezra references that he has a brother. I haven’t decided his name yet/if he will have one

The book and quote Ezra refers to in #3 is John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. One of the few required reading books I liked back in high school.

The quote about dandelions being the sun, moon and stars is based on the legend of how dandelions came into existence. I always thought it was beautiful.

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan, @melobee, @randomness501, @absurdthirst, @captain-jebi, @artsymaddie, @happiestsparkleofall, @disgruntledspacedad, @gallowsjoker, @aerynwrites, @vintagesaph, @sylphene, @chibi-yuki, @freeshavocadoooo, @stilllivindue2spite, @pointy-sharp, @leilei-draws, @over300books, @theocatkov, @oh-no-a-whovian, @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @lin-djarin, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @coaaster, @waywardmando, @thisshipwillsail316, @grogusmum, @asta-lily, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @tacticalsparkles​

#ezra #ezra prospect #Prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ezra's journal #prospect fanfiction #ezra fanfic #my fic #my writing #pedrostories

[imaginesxthevamps]

I have a request please!

Brad gives you that round pendant necklace he always wears on Valentine’s Day because he wants something of his to be with you all the time.

Maybe fans notice it even though your relationship isn’t public?

I want to be with you | Brad Simpson

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

Tags: Brad Simpson, The Vamps, imagine, fanfiction, fluff, a lot of fluff

Date: 25/04/2021

A/N: First of all I'm so sorry I wrote this so late🥺 I hope you enjoy, I made it some soft Brad! Thanks for your request! Lots of love💕

____________________

You wake up to the feeling of two lips against your neck, leaving tingles on that place.

"Good morning baby", you hear Brad say in a croaky voice.

You turn around to look at him. His chocolate curls are all over his face, covering his beautiful brown eyes. A smile is playing on his lips. His hand is resting on your hip, his fingers making circles on it.

"Good morning", you say while you brush his hair away from his face so you can look into his eyes.

"Happy valentine's", he says

"Happy valentine's", you say back connecting your lips with his for a passionate but raw kiss. His lips don't leave yours for another few minutes until you hear a knock on the door of the apartment.

"That will be our breakfast, stay here", Brad says with a smile and jumps out of your shared bed. On his way to the door he put on a bathrobe so he won't stand there in his boxers.

It doesn't take long before he's back with a big box in his hands and two glasses. He places the box in front of you sitting back next to you.

"I couldn't let you starve in the morning, could I?", he says and opens the box, revealing all the good food.

"You're the best", you say, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

After breakfast, when you're both dressed, Brad takes you to all the places you love in London. He knows how much you love London and he would show it a thousand times to you.

After you've strolled through London the whole afternoon, he brings you to a restaurant. It's a cozy one with a terrace on the balcony that looks out on the Thames and a few of London's most famous buildings.

The waiter brings you to a table closest to the railing so you have the most beautiful view.

"I asked for this place specifically", Brad says when you're sitting down.

"This is so beautiful", you say, looking to the water and all the buildings with all the little lights as it's evening and it's dark.

The waiter comes back with the menus, giving one to each of you. He already takes your orders to drink. Brad thought of ordering a bottle of wine and some water and you agree.

"What are you going to eat?", Brad asks.

"I'm not sure, they have so much good things. Although I think I'm going for a pasta as the pasta lover I am", you say with a wink.

Eventually you decided to take the pasta of the house and Brad takes a pasta carbonara.

Both of you talk about all the things you've seen today as if it's the first time you've seen but actually you already saw it a dozen times. When the food arrives there is falling a peaceful silence as both of you enjoy your food.

"What did you think of today?", Brad asks before stuffing some tiramisu in his mouth.

"It's amazing, I'm lucky to have a boyfriend like you", you say, laying your hand on top of his.

He smiles at you, his chocolate brown eyes have a sparkle of happiness in them. That's what you've fallen for, his beautiful brown eyes with happiness in them. They enchant you, making you believe everything is possible.

"Oh, I still have something for you", Brad says suddenly.

"You really didn't have to do that", you say, feeling a little guilty.

He takes a box out of the pocket of his jeans and lays it in front of you.

"It's not an engagement ring although I really want to marry you one day", Brad adds to it.

His words are making your hearth flutter, he wants to marry you one day. It's not that you haven't thought about it since you two are already dating for 2 years in secret but now the words were on the table.

You shake the thought of marrying Brad aside and and open the box, revealing the necklace with the round pendant he is always wearing. It's only now that you notice he hasn't been wearing it all day.

"I can't take this, it's yours", you say surprised although you're so happy with this present.

He lays his hands on yours, intertwining your fingers.

"Baby, take this. I want that there is something of me with you when I'm on tour. I want to be with you, always", he says.

Your eyes are full of tears at how thoughtful he is.

"Okay", you answer, not able to form more words as a tear escapes your eye.

"Don't cry love, this was supposed to make you happy", Brad says with worry in his voice.

"These are tears of happiness Brad, you don't know how much I love you", you say, more tears streaming down your face.

"I do know that baby, I do and I love you too, so much y/n", he says while wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

He gets up and takes the necklace to put it on you.

"It looks way better on you", Brad says with a smile and takes a picture of you with his phone and he shows you.

His necklace is hanging proudly around your neck. Your smile is wide, showing how happy you are in that moment.

"Can you send it to me?", you ask and he nods.

After you finished your desserts you make your way back home, hand in hand.

Once home both of you make yourself ready to go to bed as it's already late. While Brad is still in the bathroom you pick up your present for him from your secret hiding place. Because of all the events of today you didn't had the chance to give it to him. You hide it for a little while under the covers while you're waiting for him in bed. In the meantime you decide to post the picture of you and the necklace on Instagram. You're aware of the risk that people will find out that you're dating but you don't care, you're too happy in this moment to let it be ruined by fans.

When Brad is ready he throws himself on the bed next to you, making you laugh.

"I also have something for you", you announce.

You get your present and give it to him, watching him getting excited.

"Open it", you say with a smile.

He opens the wrapping paper, revealing a photo book.

"I printed all the pictures of us and collected them in this book, I didn't thought about it the same way you did but you can also take this on tour so when you have a bad moment that you can look at it", you say, "I also added a funny quote that one of us said on these moments".

Brad takes a look on every picture, on every memory you two shared these last two years.

"I love you", he says and starts kissing you, his lips moulding together with yours.

Your phone keeps buzzing so you break the kiss to take a look why it's blowing up. You find out it's the picture. Fans have noticed it and keep sharing the picture while tagging you. You also got a few messages from friends. "You're wearing his necklace?! You go girl, you two are adorable!", your best friend had sent you.

"Well I think everyone knows it now", you say.

"I don't care", Brad says with a smile and starts kissing you again, "as long as I'm with you, I'm happy".

____________________

The Vamps requests open

New Hope Club requests closed

#bradley simpson #brad simpson #bradley will simpson #the vamps #the vamps brad #connor ball #tristan evans #james mcvey #the vamps imagine #brad simpson x reader #brad simpson fanfiction #brad simpson fluff #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #the vamps fanfiction #fluff #requests #send in requests #sari writes #sari blogs

[inkbyajm]

Bottled Up

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: angst, fluff

warnings: yelling, crying, insecurities

word count: 2.2k

notes: apologies for the tardy post, i wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the whole angsty scene because i didn’t know if it was written well enough, i wanted to make sure you guys could feel the emotions that i vividly visualised and tried my best to put into words  :( i did send it to a friend to check and she seemed to like it, so let me know how it goes for you, my loves. the angst for this one was inspired by 2 different songs - hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi and i will run from you by cemeteries. it’s not necessarily about the lyrics, but more about the melody and the mood you get into listening to them (they go in order). give those a listen :) also, beware of the upcoming philosophy references, i did study philosophy last year, hopefully no one gets triggered lmao

< previous    next >

Is a person’s scent something a normal human being picks up on before taking into account the rest of their features? Would a normal human being remember said scent and be able to recognise it in a crowd full of strangers? Corpse wasn’t too sure about the answer, but one thing he did know, is that she smelled delicately sweet, like cherry blossoms, and that ever since he had noticed it during their game night a few weeks ago, he simply couldn’t let it go. It was intoxicating, but in a calming way. 

━

Corpse and (Y/N) each lay on their beds in their own homes, going into the third hour of their call. He couldn’t exactly fall asleep, so he had decided to see what his dear friend was up to, and even though she was this close to succumbing to sleep, she said nothing and stayed up to keep his busy mind company.

“Okay, hot topic: what do you think about soulmates? More specifically the romantic type?” the girl asked, not knowing how much of a risqué question it was. How was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t really have an opinion on it. Why?”

“I read Symposium by Plato the other day and it presented an interesting concept about human beings. Basically-” Of course she fucking read philosophical books. How were they even having a conversation with each other? Why were they even friends? She was on a whole other level of smart. “-so this guy says that humans were like androgynous blobs, so they’d come in two sets of everything a normal person has. But those humans were so powerful, the gods were literally shaking in their robes, so Zeus decided to cut everyone into two to weaken them. But then humans became so miserable, they spent their entire lives searching for their other halves. In the end, Zeus kinda felt bad and said fuck it, I’ll give y’all dicks and vaginas for every time you wanna hug each other. And that’s the oldest explanation there is about the idea of soulmates.” she sighed, finished with her rant.

“That was...not at all the story I expected to hear.” she heard him mumble on the other side of the call. “Yeah, Greek philosophers were up to some reeal freaky things, you would have loved them,” he laughed at her joke, “I honestly think it’s cute. Not the whole cutting people into two thing, but like, longing for someone and then finding them because you finally feel complete. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a prince in shining whatever to sweep me off my feet. But it does sound nice, that ideal comfort, a person you’re just...meant to be with, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that neither of them really minded, before it was Corpse’s turn to ask the second bold question of the night. “Have you found that person yet? Your soulmate?”

She’s never thought about it before, but she hasn’t really thought about soulmates that much either, it was a spontaneous thought she had said out loud. “I’m not sure, actually. (B/F/N) could be one, I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged in return. Wasn’t she going to ask him about it? She probably didn’t care that much. Understandable.

“My favourite quote about love is «You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.». It’s by Sam Keen, the American philosopher. It maay be the hopeless romantic in me shining through, but I do very much agree with his statement.” Did this mean anyone could have a chance with her despite their fuckups? So if he were to try, would she-?

“Obviously, there are some things that just can’t be ignored or avoided, but at that point it’s preferences and personal tolerance. Depends on the person, ya know?” she swiftly added, unaware of the effect it had on him. Sick. Some people were just meant to rot alone.

The final question was posed by (Y/N). She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at all curious. This little crush of hers had been steadily growing with every hang out, every laugh, every hug and every glance. There are rarely ever moments where one could casually discuss a topic this personal with friends, at least there weren’t with friends one had feelings for. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Corpse?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?” her voice was soft, her approach gentle.

“Well, I’ve been in relationships before, so I guess, yeah? It’s been so long, I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.” he let out a breath resembling a chuckle. Lamest fucking answer ever. But it was true. He hadn’t thought about love in that way in quite a while.

“A lot of people describe it as having an intense range of overwhelming feelings. Lightheadedness, slight shakiness, heart palpitations, some people have even reported losing their appetite. Crazy how human bodies work, huh? Oh! Speaking of chemicals-”

She had continued on to ramble about...chemistry? Eyes? Corpse couldn’t really hear what she was saying anymore, let alone concentrate on her words, as he pieced everything that’s been happening for the past few months together. The nauseating feeling. The pounding of his heart so fast it felt like he was about to die. The urge to make as little eye contact with her as possible, because otherwise he’d turn into a furnace. The obsession with her perfume, like he was some fucking creep. The fool was falling in love. And it was at that moment that everything had come crumbling down.

━

(Y/N) and Corpse hadn’t talked for a couple of weeks. Or rather (Y/N) messaged the 23 year old many times, but he’d either claim to be busy or just not answer at all. There were two possible reasons for the sudden lack of contact: he was indeed busy with his musical projects and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; or something much more serious was going on. It didn’t matter, for she was already in her car, on her way to his apartment.

Arriving at her destination, she used the spare key he gave her months ago, a sign of absolute trust, and allowed herself into his humble abode. Silence reigned in her friend’s residence. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere, and though that was unlikely, it wasn’t unprecedented. The door to his recording room was closed, and while she was tempted to check if he was in there, she refrained from doing so, knowing that specific room was not to be entered unless he was around to give permission.

“Corpse?” she called out just to make sure. There was no response for a few minutes, which made her assume she had the place for herself, until she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw his figure emerge from said recording room in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his curly hair disheveled.

“Hey, how are you d-”

“Why are you here?” he spoke flatly, interrupting her. “Well- You weren’t, um, answering your messages or any of my calls, so I thought something had happened.” she replied, suddenly nervous, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Nothing happened. I told you I was busy.”

The air around them seemed colder as tensions rose. (Y/N) could tell he was irritated, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why. She had never seen this side of him before. “Okay. Tell you what, I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so why don’t I go ahead and start cooking something up while you-”

“Get out.”

She blinked a few times, not quite registering the words that had just left his mouth. “Sorry?” Her voice was quiet. She was taken off guard.

“Are you deaf? I said get. the fuck. OUT.”

Corpse shouted the last word, making her flinch in what appeared to be fear. Good. Run away while you still can. Heart pounding, (Y/N) took a second to remind herself whom she was speaking to. “I see that you’re angry, but at least give me a reason why-”

“You want a reason? I just don’t fucking WANT you here!” Anger grew inside of him like a tumor, but it wasn’t intended for her. She had simply been caught in a storm that had been building up for years. “Do you understand that?! I can’t fucking be around you without feeling like I’m going to EXPLODE.”

His words hit her like paintballs. They were only words, plain and simple, but they dug deeper and deeper into her skin with each hit, until, eventually, it broke. Eyes burning, she felt the tears slowly welling up in them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” her own voice grew louder with frustration, but mostly, confusion.

“Maybe because I can? Because I’m a goddamn asshole?” 

“Don’t say that.”

“How?! How can I not say it when it’s the truth!” He wanted to stop. His mind told him to cease whatever it was that he was doing. However, blinded with resentment towards himself, he only spilled words he would regret after it was too late. 

“I can’t function like a normal fucking human being. I can’t be a good friend, son, or whatever the fuck else, and I sure as hell can’t love you.”

The paintballs had turned into a singular sword. A very long, very sharp sword that had found itself plunged deep inside her chest. How did he found out? When? Had she been too obvious? Had she been pushy? Clingy? Way out of line? The woman before him was unable to conceal her shock, as tears came rushing down her hot cheeks. Her voice brittle, she tried defending herself. She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to try. Try to have him see reason. “You don’t love me, that’s fine. But you didn’t have to deliver it this way-”

“But I did.” breathless with fury, Corpse clenched his fists so tight they had turned cold, yet they were still trembling. “You can get so naïve and dumb, you won’t understand things unless they’re spelled out nice and fucking bold for you.”

He closed with (Y/N) until their noses nearly touched. He noticed the way she silently shook, her eyes which shed endless tears never leaving his gaze. Unable to make a single sound, she felt the man’s hot breath on her face, his aura domineering.

“Now get. out.”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate as she just stood there. Staring back at him, her inner brows raised. Corpse wanted to hug her. Envelop her trembling figure with his and tell her he was sorry, that he meant none of it, that he had lost his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. And with his own tears threatening to spill, he created a distance between them. He needed her gone.

“Leave! GO!”

His yelling was enough to jolt (Y/N) out of her trance, and, in a hurry, she sprinted towards the entrance. The door closed behind her, she felt a sudden urge to fill her lungs with much needed air. She jumped at the resounding scream that emanated from deep within his soul, letting out all of his pent-up rage.

Feet carrying her all the way to her car parked outside of the building, the young woman managed to climb in, and this was the queue for her body to break down. The night was young. The street empty. No one around to hear her long-lasting wailing. She clutched the steering wheel for support, fingers wrapping around the leather in a tight grip. A headache was creeping up from the back of her skull. Her ears pulsated in response to the heavy pounding of her heart. Clumsily, (Y/N) inserted the key into the ignition, felt around for the gear stick, and drove away. She didn’t know where she was going or how long it was going to take to get there. She needed to get out.

What went wrong? When did it go wrong? She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel at fault. She had never seen that side of him before. He had never treated her that way before.

It was the hugs, wasn’t it? He had to have noticed the way she held on for a second too long to enjoy the smell of his cologne. Her vision blurred as she resumed softly weeping, her salty tears staining her top. Or it might have been the touchiness, she would practically glue herself to him during their movie nights. Unaware of both her actions and surroundings, (Y/N)’s breathing quickened, becoming ragged. Maybe he didn’t like the way she called him three times a week. Her hands were slowly losing control over the wheel, over the vehicle she was driving. She invaded his privacy. That was definitely it. Fuck. How could she have been so damn blind, selfish, ignorant, FUCKING STUPID.

Lights. Something was moving towards her- MOVE.

With a sharp turn, she dodged the approaching car just by a hair’s breadth, but as she had avoided one accident, another came just as quickly. 

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse x you #corpse husband x you #corpse husband fic

[gallpall]

canaan bubble redux as a womb for story/character arcs

I’m sure most of this has been posted about before but: ever since my initial read I’ve been obsessed with the gross bodily/gorey stuff in the Canaan redux and I wanted to organize some of my constant+chaotic thoughts!!

TM has said that a lot of the motifs/events in the bubbles are actually “Silent Hill stand-ins” for story elements and she hopes we pick up on stuff, so here’s my Attempt!

At the same time that Harrow’s mind is being made a tomb for Gideon Nav Wake’s subconscious is pulled in to act as a womb for certain plot elements right alongside it. The chronology/time period of HtN mimics a full nine-month gestation. There’s a lot of very literal imagery here (which is below the cut), but I also think we’re meant to see it as metaphorical: we’re able to glean some things about character arcs based on how everything in the bubble goes down.

I’m particularly interested right now in those ‘side’ characters in the bubble who aren’t actually dead, who barely appear in the bubble at all except to get summarily offed, all in very distinctive ways. Judith, Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth.

(cw below cut for some pregnancy/insemination imagery, canonical body horror and gruesome bubble deaths rehashed)

First of all just some quotes showing some of the imagery that I’ve attributed to being Wake manifesting pregnancy trauma stuff (there’s possibly some of Harrow’s conception trauma here, too) seeping through, for the purposes of this line of speculation. 

This isn’t nearly all of it, but some things that stood out to me as possibly comparing Canaan House 2.0 to a functioning reproductive system:

(ch. 21) a “collection of large, rusted pipette needles” -- turkey basters?

(ch. 35) “great, slithering, pulsing tubes” which contain “whitish-pearl bubbled globules”-- this perhaps recalls ovaries/fallopian tubes, with the ‘globules’ being follicles produced by superovulation for insemination, or corpus luteum that supply progesterone to maintain a pregnancy.

(ch. 45) “stretched webs of organ [...] like nets of sticky venous spiderweb” --uterine walls, maybe; it’s all over the windows, totally encasing them in Canaan’s rooms, and arguably even contracting like a uterus would: “every so often they would tremble uncertainly and erupt in floods of bloody, foamy water.”

in the next pgh we get some more of the tools Wake would have used to conceive/upkeep the pregnancy: “pipettes, broken glass-fronted containers filled with dark fluid,” skeletons sitting atop piles of “capsules or pills” perhaps hormones/supplements. (also holding Drearburh tools, the way Wake’s skelly would have been doomed to do)

(ch. 43) “from that hole emerged a clattering pile of plex scope slides, the type you would preserve a cell sample between“ -- Wake would’ve had to carry out the IVF process for implantation, this also seems like apparatus for that

(ch. 47) there’s the “libation” Abigail uses to summon Wake which is... well. It’s a “thin, milky, whitish liquid pooled at the base, sluggish in the cold,” and the summoning involves a bunch of ‘come’ commands, which I think might be Muir making a very elaborate jizz-adjacent “silly buggers with the emissions” joke. 

Just a note, cause I’m hopeless about Pyrrwake: the Seconds’ quarters are almost completely preserved from the leaky body horror (though it’s still cold in there)--as if they represented a sanctuary in Wake’s subconscious. There are also letters in the nonagonal coffin room which spell out an anagram of “PYRRHA” (ch. 47).

So with all that in mind, I’d posit that the fake-ghost deaths are all metaphorical “rebirths” of various characters arcs for ATN. I haven’t delved into what this imagery might mean for Harrow or Gideon specifically because I know there’s a LOT and it’s probably above my theoretical paygrade (I would love for someone to tack on with that though!!) but I can talk about ‘side’ chars on a very big-picture level.

Judith’s simulacrum gets knocked off first (ch. 18); shot through the heart (both atria) while she and Marta’s ghost are trying to complete the winnowing trial. The Sleeper shoots her 7 more times after that, I guess partly just ‘cause she can, but Ortus notes that it seems like there was an element of "Anger” to it. It’s possible Wake wasn’t pleased to have someone messing around with Pyrrha’s lyctoral trial, infuriated that anyone would be attempting to replicate G1d/Pyr’s original downfall. She then ignores Marta entirely and climbs back in the coffin (now with the sword) once Judith’s out of the way.

[Marta’s] scarlet necktie looked redder too—by the time they’d gotten hold of Judith Deuteros the blood had dried hers nearly black.

Cohort red-and-whites being stained black with blood, like a certain high-collared BOE uniform... could be another little clue to Judith’s "heart” for the Emperor (and for Marta, and pretty much everything else she knew) being lost and her realigning--though not willingly, at least at first--with the other side.

Cam and Pal’s simulacrums are plainly executed (ch. 21), they have their “faces obliterated” each by a single gunshot, and it’s as if they just stood there and let it happen. In the bubble, “Harrow had never seen Sextus or Hect except from afar.” These simulacrums totally avoid having their features revealed to Harrow. I’m willing to bet their faces being obscured and then exploded is one of the clues we get to their eyes being swapped around the next time we see them in the epilogue and in ATN.

Regarding the twins: They are essentially non-extant in the bubble. Ianthe never appears because she’s still kicking and, in her own words, “doesn’t live alternate histories” (GtN ch. 15).

Coronabeth’s simulacrum scene (ch. 37) is SO vivid and cryptic. It fascinates me because it definitely is, in part, trying to tell us something poignant about the initiation of Corona’s “worse twin” arc in ATN.

[Corona] was turned away from Harrow, and her riot of hair—half-caught in a fillet, half-escaping—was soaking wet, a dark and crinkling amber in the rain. She was not fighting or arguing. She was still as a statue, and ready and waiting as a dog.

Sounds like the fake ghost preparing for that major shift in allegiance. Silas is the one to ‘dismiss’ her, with his “may the blood of your blood suffer,” which perhaps is a really Templar-y way of saying ‘now go wreck ianthe’s SHIT.’ When Harrow accuses him of sending Corona to her death, Silas asks “Death?”--as if he sees that what’s really just happened, at least metaphorically, is (re)Birth.

[Harrow] thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

Sounds a bit like amniotic fluid/water breaking? Coronabeth doesn’t ever seem to hit the ocean (bodies of water=necromancy and that’s not her deal), she instead just kinda poofs, and Silas says she would have ended up “on her feet.” Coronabeth is ditching her family ties and is out for blood, and I think her charisma, willpower, and sheer desire for revenge will move her a long way in the ranks of Eden--probably even to the point of echoing Commander Wake’s ambitions and actions. I could delve into that damn portrait mirroring Ianthe’s obsession w/ Cyrus’ paintings on the Mithraeum... but that is a whole other post!

So all of these are fairly baseline observations and I think there’s a LOT more to be expounded on, if y’all wanna reply/reblog/DM with additions I would freaking love that, every time I open a page of this book I find something I missed before and it’s such a delight. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!

#the locked tomb trilogy #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers #shoutout to kallistoi and rusty-k for bouncing ideas around w me

[actlikeyoudidntdoit]

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

—————————————————

ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

#assassin's creed #arno dorian #assassins creed #assassins creed unity #gaming #ac #ac unity #arno victor dorian #assassin's creed unity #alternate version #bayek of siwa #bayek #assassins creed origins #assassins creed syndicate #assassins creed odyssey #assassins creed rogue #assassins creed IV #Assassins creed 3 #assassins creed 4 #Assassins creed 2 #assassins creed brotherhood #assassins creed revelations #ezio auditore #aya #aveline #evie frye #Jacob Frye #Edward Kenway #altair #altaïr ibn la'ahad

[thetrap]

why i think deancas just might go canon

i’ve been wanting to write this for a bit, but i haven’t really had the time until now. basically this is just a super unorganized collection of thoughts i have on why i think that dean and castiel actually have a fairly decent shot of becoming canon (and by decent shot i mean like.....a solid 5% chance. and that’s being generous). this is based off of the show itself (obviously), quotes from andrew dabb, and other things.

1. andrew dabb is deancas positive

i made a post a while back that never made it out of the drafts, but it was basically a summation of all the good deancas shit dabb has given us as a writer. here are the bullet points:

- the hug/"i'm not leaving here without you!" moment in purgatory (8x02) 

- "don't lose it over one man"

- "he's in love.....with humanity"

- cas/colette parallel ("dean. stop.") in 10x22

- just the fight scene from the prisoner in general like......wow

- sam/jess and dean/cas parallel in 12x23

- "we've lost everything......and now, you're gonna bring him back" + dean's just generally overwhelming grief in 13x01

- "and how is it that you lost dean? i thought the two of you were joined at the.....you know, everything"

and these are just the big moments.

also notable is the fact that an activist sent dabb (and some of the other producers of spn i think) a book about dean and cas and why the fans want it/why it would be a good thing for the show. a few years later, meghan fitzmartin (who wrote the most recent episode!) was hired as dabb’s assistant, went into his office and posted a tweet a with pictures of the book, saying something along the lines of “doing some reading for work!”

the fact that dabb actually kept a fanmade deancas book for years.....the fact that he’s consistently written episodes with really strong subtext for years.....the fact that the dean and castiel romantic tension has only picked up since he took over as showrunner (mixtape, lily sunder, cas’s death, dean’s grief arc, the entirety of season fifteen, etc.)......idk i just think it’s really interesting that there has been such a marked shift since he was put in charge.

2. the mixtape

i know this was a few seasons ago, but it’s still relevant because like. a mixtape is not platonic. this scene was not platonic. full-stop.

and it’s not even the act by itself; it’s also the dialogue!! “it was a gift. you keep those.” this is more than likely a direct callback to aragorn and arwen in lord of the rings (that’s the first thing i thought of, at least).

the fact that dabb let this slide, like......he knows what this looks like. berens and glynn, who wrote this episode, know what it looks like. they knew precisely how this would be perceived, and then wrote and aired the scene anyways.

and that’s not even getting into the camerawork. like what?? was this shot???

yeah so. definitely not platonic.

3. the trap

honestly i thought about just posting this part of this overlong essay thing, because to me, this is the episode where i went okay, so this might actually happen.

there are SO many things in this episode that made me go insane the first time i watched it (”i left, but you didn’t stop me”) but the thing that stuck out to me the most was dean’s reaction to castiel saying, “you don’t have to say it. i heard your prayer,” when dean tries to tell him something.

like?????? he does not look relieved!! nor does he look particularly happy!!

hell, if you go back and watch the video you can literally see him swallow his words down like....jensen ackles is the master of micro expressions and that shit is Not Accidental. this moment 100% gives the vibe that there is something that is not being said. the camera following dean as he gives cas a lingering look is really interesting too.

3. dabb’s comments about dean and cas in season 15

this part is actually sort of related to the point above, since a lot of dabb’s comments are in reference to “the trap.” here are some interesting ones that i want to point out:

But the Leviathan won’t be the focal point of the purgatory story. Rather, it’s about what Dean and Castiel are going through. “They’re not going to resolve the emotional stuff, but it allows them to redefine their friendship a little bit in light of what’s happened especially earlier this season,” Dabb says. (x)

the key thing here is that dabb said that, in 15x09, dean and cas are “not going to resolve the emotional stuff.”

now. i don’t know about you, but dean falling to his knees, praying to cas and weeping feels a lot like emotional resolution to me. like, sure, things will probably be awkward between them for a while, but surely this is the peak moment of their emotional vulnerability with each other, right? surely this is the moment where they’ve resolved the issue between them? like how the fuck does it get more intensely emotional than this??

yet dabb seems to be implying that it will, which leaves us with the million dollar question: what is left about dean and cas’ relationship to resolve?

keep in mind that as of 15x16, there hasn’t been much forward movement on that front; that is, we’ve had some cute moments between them, but in terms of serious conversation about their relationship, there’s been basically nothing. so we can assume that this development, whatever it is, will occur in 15x18, since dean and cas will be separated for most of 15x17, as cas will be off with sam.

aka the episode where cas will likely get yanked away by the empty. aka the episode with the teary (!!!) conversation we saw in the promo between dean and cas.

also notable from the above quote is dabb saying that dean and cas are redefining their friendship. like....redefining how? to what?? that wording is just really interesting to me.

another quote from dabb re “the trap”:

(x)

it forces them to “start that process.” indicating yet again that the prayer scene between dean and cas is not the moment where whatever is between them is resolved. yet, from where we are right now, dean and cas seem mostly fine. which means that whatever they have yet to work out doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with their fight.

lastly:

a really significant chunk of what happens to dean in 15x09 is him confronting his issues with cas. don’t get me wrong - there are other important things that happen in the episode - but the fact that an episode where so much time/emotional energy is given to dean and cas’ dynamic is considered a turning point for dean is very notable and, to me, speaks to the importance of their relationship for the rest of the season.

4. dean/cas and sam/eileen being set up as units

i’m of the opinion that sam and dean will (by choice) go their separate ways at the end of the show. i think this for a variety of reasons that i wrote about here, and to add onto this, i think that dean/cas and sam/eileen are, in a way, being set up as two units.

this theory comes from two points:

1. the fact that eileen got brought back at all

this isn’t to say that eileen isn’t an interesting character all on her own/outside of her romance with sam, but the fact that they brought her back and then proceeded to set her up in this romance feels really significant to me. what’s especially interesting is how, even after she leaves in 15x09, we get a continuation of their romance in 15x14. i don’t necessarily think that she’s sam’s endgame in the sense that the final episode will show sam going to her or whatever, but i do think that part of the reason she was brought back was so that sam would have someone who he loves/someone he could potentially build a life with after he and dean defeat chuck.

2. the way the two couples were portrayed in “the trap”

like....just watch the future scenes in the bunker. there’s very much a sense that these are two couples living together. and “ever since the mark made cas go crazy, ever since i had to bury him in a ma’lak box.” note the use of i, not we. and then dean/cas and sam/eileen are directly paralleled when dean tells sam he needs to give it up after eileen’s death, comparing it to how dean has given it up after having to bury cas in the ma’lak box.

5. dean does not do Well without cas

this is probably an understatement. there have been a couple of notable instances in this season where the viewer is given a glimpse of what happens to dean when cas dies/is in danger of death/is separated from dean (in case the whole ass widower arc in s13 wasn’t enough).

two of these are from “the trap”:

1. dean freaking out/crying/praying when he’s separated from cas in purgatory

2. dean giving up on life/hunting after burying cas in the ma’lak box in the future world

3. dean’s reaction to cas temporarily going to the empty in 15x13

the one i want to spend the most time on is number two, in large part because sam was witness to it and i think that this might get brought up in 15x17.

part of my spec for that episode is that cas will tell sam about his deal/sam will find out somehow, and in reaction sam might tell cas about how dean reacted to his death in s13 - a conversation that was notably absent from the show when cas finally returned in 13x05. i also think that he might mention no. 2 above, basically telling cas that if he dies, dean is done. that he won’t be able to handle it/move past it. the show has been telling us this over and over for a while now, and it’s only been emphasized more in season 15. i think that 15x17 is the episode where this will finally be verbally expressed.

to me, all of this emphasis on dean giving up when cas is gone isn’t for nothing. in my opinion, it’s being done very purposefully to set up an endgame where dean and cas are together in some sense of the word. and a lot of what i’ve said above is what makes me think it’ll be a Romantic together.

5. bobo berens’ three part deancas saga

so we all know that berens is pretty much spn’s foremost deancas warrior, and what i want to point out here is how this season has been utilizing him as a writer.

this season, berens has three solo episodes (he wrote “galaxy brain” with meredith glynn):

1. the rupture

2. the trap

3. despair (formerly known as “the truth”)

so far, these first two episodes have had major deancas moments. you could even label them as:

1. the rupture (the breakup)

2. the trap (the reconciliation)

3. depair (???)

keep in mind also that berens wrote 14x18, where the dean and cas sort of had a preliminary breakup. he’s been in charge of this arc for a while, and the fact that so much of his writing this season has been deancas focused.......i don’t know, i just think it’s significant in part because, while berens has always been deancas positive, he also writes plenty of episodes that aren’t focused on dean and cas. but now, in the final season, the dean and cas emotional arc has been handed to him, and it’s been the primary focus on his writing.

(sidenote: berens was promoted to executive producer for this final season)

to me, this is all leading to a big moment between dean and cas in 15x18 - and the fact that it was at one point called “the truth,” only to be switched back to despair - makes me think that there will be some sort of confession involved. my money is on cas being the one to say it (especially since this would line up with the leak), especially given the glimpse we saw of (what might be) this moment in the promo. which leads me to...

6. cas does not cry

i saved this for last because the promo where we see teary-eyed cas is actually what pulled me back into this shitshow.

cas does not cry. like. ever. he got a little teary in 15x15, when jack told him of his plan to sacrifice himself, but we have never - never - seen him shed actual tears. and in the promo, particularly that shot where cas says “you have fought for this whole world,” it 100% looks like cas is about to cry cry.

cas has seen his son die. he has seen dean die. he died himself, over and over and over. and we have never seen him cry.

yet for some reason, in this moment of vulnerability with dean, he’s crying. i find it highly unlikely that cas would cry because of his impending death, for a number of reasons (for one, he wouldn’t want to upset dean more than he has to). so, assuming he’s not crying because of his own death, then what is making cas so emotional that he is genuinely crying for the first time in the twelve seasons he has been on the show?

my guys.....i can only think of one thing.

#THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG OH MY GOD #i'm so sorry for this i just have SO many thoughts about this and had to get them all down #disclaimer: i still think it's highly unlikely we'll get confirmed romantic deancas #but i do think there's a chance #and this is why #deancas #destiel #s15 spoilers #spec