#a short comic that as always goes nowhere but i enjoyed making

[ranuunculus]

panels from a comic I made superimposed together

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

AAAAAAA ur reading house of leaves??? im buying that next week thats so cool! do u have any book recs? or recs in general shows movies etc

I AM!! I'm several chapters in and super enjoying it, although reading it alone in a tiny hotel room in the middle of nowhere was a Distinct Mistake.

As for recs! I'm going to specifically go for stuff that isn't super mainstream, in the hopes that I'll recommend you something you have never heard of before. Here's some stuff for you!

Podcasts

Dreamboy - one-season podcast from Night Vale Presents, definitely one of their less-known ones. Explicit in places, what I would describe as AO3 M-rated sex scenes. A worn-out musician ends up embroiled in inexplicable events in a small town, and also there's a murderous zebra and fossils that want to fuck. It's a musical cinematic podcast masterpiece, I'll always be sad there's only one season.

Apocrypals - nonfiction. Two non-believers read through the Bible and try not to be jerks about it. If you're interested in theology and apocryphal texts but have no idea where to start, this is such a good place. The hosts are delightful, and have a really nice way of taking you through all the various layers of Biblical scholarly nonsense. Considerable backlog of episodes, but worth listening through from the beginning. Weirdly, there's continuity.

Til Death Do Us Blart - five poor fools watch Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 every Thanksgiving from now until the end of eternity, and report back yearly on their mental state. You may think to yourself 'wow, that doesn't sound like a good time'. It isn't, to the hosts. To anyone listening along, it's fucking hilarious. Nine episodes so far, and it's a single episode per year, so plenty of time to catch up.

Web Series

The Monument Mythos - Several seasons. surreal analogue horror alternate history of America told through a series of videos of varying format. Brilliantly absurd, fucked up, and horrifying by turns (sometimes all at once).

No Evil - ongoing animated series, made mostly by a single person. Please don't immediately wave it off because of the colorful anthropormorphic animals. The mythology is amazing, the animation is sublime, and the music is haunting. The pacing is a bit strange at first, and you may be confused at the way the plot moves, but you have to understand that it's all part of its charm. I think about No Evil way too much.

Dances Moving - you may know Brian David Gilbert from his work at Polygon, and his more recent absurdist Youtube ventures. This is from way before that! It's a fun and gradually heartwrenching musical exploration of a local dance group and what it means to move away from home. Seven short episodes.

ENA - this one is a bit more mainstream, so you may know it already. Who knows what's going on in the world of ENA? Definitely not me. Absurdism at its finest. Bizarre architecture, strange characters, if it's a metaphor I don't know what it's about, but the vibes are immaculate. Three actual episodes of varying length, apparently there's a video game set to come out soon-ish?

An Unauthorized Fan Treatise - serialized story. If you're a fan of internet drama a la Msscribe, you're going to adore it. It's a fiction story about a fictional fandom, and one massively messed up person who decides that two of the lead actors in her favorite show are secretly dating and sets out to prove it with a cited multi-chapter essay. And then it gets wild.

Comics

The Property of Hate - a wonderfully dynamic and colorful webcomic about a young girl getting chosen to become a make-believe world's Hero. Puns and wordplay galore. Absolutely delightful characters and worldbuilding. Ongoing.

Eat the Rich - a young woman goes to meet her boyfriend's extremely rich family, and learns their horrifying secret. Warning: cannibalism. 5 issues, complete.

Beanworld - impossible to describe, but I'll try. An absurdist semiabstract musing on the nature of life and cycles and community, set in a world where the rules are weirdly two-dimensional and you as a reader get weirdly invested in the routines and cycles that the inhabitants follow. And all of the main characters are cute lil bean guys. If you read anything on this list, do this one. (Linked is the only online version I could find, and it's not up-to-date. I own all the omnibuses in print. If you liked what you read here, I recommend tracking them down too.)

Short Stories (in no particular order, and certainly not all my favorites - just the ones I had bookmarked and on hand)

Bride, Knife, Flaming Horse - a young Indian woman looks for marriage in the fantastical, and finds several suitors

Fish (in 13 sections) - an obsessive unpacks a bewildering insult. Just, really fun.

Fandom For Robots - a robot discovers anime, and definitely doesn't have big feelings about it

Informed Consent Logs From The Soul-Swap Clinic - two people decide to swap bodies, for somewhat murky reasons.

The Magician's Apprentice - a young girl learns magic from her mentor. This one's about grooming. But not like that. But also a lot like that. But also it's so much more fucked up than that. (This one is a MEGA favorite, it's by Tamsyn Muir. Who you may recognize as the author of the Locked Tomb series - I'd rec that too here, if it wasn't definitely too mainstream for what I'm going for. Read this. And also read the Locked Tomb.)

The Tale of the Foolish King Who Banished Music - it's a snippet of a longer Doctor Who audio drama, but stands so nicely on its own. Unnerving little fairy tale.

The Spider - 1908 horror story about a man trying to figure out why so many men have spontaneously committed suicide in a specific hotel room. It's basically a TMA statement, in more ways than one.

Video Games

What Did Veronica Dream Of? - strange little rpgmaker puzzle game. Obtuse and weird, and I adore it. I wish I could explain why.

Secret Little Haven - point-and-click about being a trans girl on the internet in 1999. Completely nails the tone it's going for. Period-typical homo- and transphobia.

Linelith - a short (1-hour) puzzle game with no plot and no characters, and yet it contains one of the greatest plot-twists of all time. I'm begging you to play it immediately.

Lingo - puzzle game about linguistics, words, non-Euclidean goemetry, and figuring out an endless series of rules in a constantly expanding world. RIDICULOUSLY clever and good, and I've been playing it almost continuously for the last few months. It's got so much content for such a reasonable price, and the community-made maps add even more content (and are also excellent). If English isn't your first language, you may struggle, but otherwise - grab a bunch of friends and stream it. It's better with friends helping you out, I can guarantee it.

For A Change - a 1999 interactive fiction game about raising the sun in a world where words do not mean what you think they mean. If you're familiar with old text-based games, go ahead and play it - otherwise, you may want to read this transcript of a group of people playing it together instead.

Other Things

Carmilla - the classic 1800s lesbian vampire novella. I read it very recently, and it's extremely good. Absolutely delivers on the lesbian vampire premise in full gory detail, although do be aware that it was written in the context of homophobic fear.

Alberio - very fun light musical about two siren brothers reconnecting under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Mosquitoes - stage play about life and families and physics (theoretical and practical both). Very heavy topics, pulls no punches. The Boson's final monologue always wrecks me.

Ghost Quartet - musical/song cycle/experience about love, death, alcohol, and (of course) ghosts. Lots of cyclical stories and time travel weirdness. All of the songs are incredible.

Yankee and the Foreigners - music group that performs delightful upbeat covers of songs in animal onesies. Their Bare Necessities cover is a favorite of mine.

I'm sure there's lots more things I could rec (not a lot of books or movies here, huh? sorry about that. I immediately forgot everything I've ever read and watched) but these were the things that came to mind when I sat down and wrote this list, so hopefully there's something new and good for you in here!

[triplesilverstar]

Sitting by the meager fire just outside the bus you almost have to laugh at how comical the situation you’ve been placed in is.

When you’d been leaving your small sleepy settlement for the city you knew it was going to be a while, almost three days of sitting in the cramped space and had packed enough water and food for a week. Part of you had felt paranoid at the time stuffing things into your bag in your rush to leave, your few belongings barely even took up half a back pack. So you’d kept shoving meal blocks and bars with bottles of water into it until it would barely close, you’d take whatever you could while trying to find a better life for yourself.

Now, a day and a half into the trip you were glad. Glad for a simple reason.

The bus had broken down.

In the middle of nowhere.

One benefit to it all was the fact the bus hadn’t been too full and for the most part people were sleeping in their seats when they weren’t up and about complaining about the delay. You had zero complaints, this far from the town you at last felt safe for the first time since you parents had died. Sitting there beside one of the large rubber tires watching the stars glimmer in the night sky, a feeling of hope blooming in your chest.

Jumping when a thin blanket was dropped over your shoulders. “I was wondering where you might have slipped away too!” Looking up to see the smiling face of the preacher that had hopped onto the bus just before it left town.

“Just minding my own business” Trying to keep your tone neutral as you felt yourself shrink under his gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Almost right away his boisterous tone drops away as well as the volume of his voice. “I was worried you might have been in a hurry to get moving and might have tried to walk the rest of the way.”

Huffing at his answer and feeling a little bit of indignity you look up at him with your eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

“Well, I am a man of the cloth.” Turning on his feet and sliding down the side of the bus but keeping a respectful distance from you. “You might be young, but I can tell you’ve seen some things in your life. I’d have hated to see it cut short because you couldn’t wait a little while longer for the bus to get fixed. Walking the desert at night is no place for a young person such as yourself.”

For a while you sit there in silence thinking about his words before licking your lips to answer. “I just wanted to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. I’m not stupid enough to think I have enough supplies to walk through the desert.” Shifting forward so your bending a little bit and letting your chin rest on your knee, looking out towards the distance where you can see the rolling sand dunes painted almost midnight blue is comparison to the pale tan of the day.

“I never meant to imply anything about your intelligence. Just that when people are running they don’t always make the best choices.” Sending the man a side eye as he seemed to be looking around in his pockets for something and growing a little frantic before slumping in relief. “Now that might have been a real tragedy.” Placing a long thin white stick to his lips before clicking his lighter. The flame casting a random pattern of shadows along his face, highlighting the prominence of his facial features and the thin smattering of dark hair along his chin before that light goes out. Replaced by the smouldering ember of the cigarette between his fingers, the image making you laugh a little wondering if that’s how the stars view your lives. As bright flames that disappear just as quickly as they appear.

“A tragedy if you couldn’t find a smoke?” Feeling the tightness in your shoulders starting to ease as your wariness of the man loosens.

“Everyone has a bad habit, and this happens to be mine.” Turning and holding out his hand towards you to shake. “Nicholas D. Wolfwood.” A long exhale as you reach out to take his hand and giving your own name in return, he’s been nothing but friendly with all the passengers and the driver on the bus. You can’t see giving him your name as something to come back and bite you in the ass in future.

“Nice to meet you, and I do apologize if I came off as a little creepy.” The hand not holding his cigarette rubbing at the back of his head. “I was just worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be. I’m heading to a new life.” Looking back out over the sands you smile. “I know it won’t be easy, but it’s what I want.”  You don’t want to think about the last five years, you’re happy to forget it ever happened and wash it from your mind. A new chapter in your life.

A low chuckle from your companion next to you. “A new life. Are you sure you know what that entails?” There’s something in his voice, that you can’t tell if it’s wistful or something else but you don’t miss the light tremble in it. Almost as if he’s mournful of the life he himself has to live.

“I know it’s going to be hard and I might not make it, but I want a tomorrow of my choosing. Not someone else’s.” Slapping his knee and laughing loud enough you hear someone inside the bus telling him to keep it down you have to smile. It is the most relaxed you’ve felt since you left town the day before and your hope for the future soars while he apologises to the voice that had called out to him before turning his attention back on you.

“You’re something else that’s for sure. You remind me of some of the kids at the orphanage.” Looking towards him as the chill night air starts to settle in more and asking about those kids as he grows more animated. Filling the night air with tales of the shenanigans of children, from getting into trouble and tender moments of looking after one another and it warms your heart. Yes you had no idea what the future might have in store in for you, but if there are more men like this priest willing to worry about a stranger like you than you have hope you’ll see more dawns out on your own than you did in your old town.

[sleepyowlwrites]

hello, since you oferred advice to the other anon can I get some words of wisdom too? you don't have to, I understand it can be a lot to ask. or maybe just a ear to listen? idk I'mhaving mixed emotions right now because somet things made me realize that even though I like writing, it's only gonna be ever for myself. which isn't a bad thing but I wanted to one day publish something but I find out now that writing is really hard and I don't have the discipline or even much interest it studying how to do it "right" like all the technicalities and stuff. so really I just like the finished product and how it "looks" in my brain more. I do like trying to figure out how to make a story make sense and all the behind the scenes stuff, but I'm rarely able to get to that stage due to being tired and unable to focus/ discipine myself to work.

I was wondering if there was something I could do about it? I mean I guess I need to accept that now when I write it's just gonna be as a hobby and for myself. though, similar to the other anon, I would like to share my writing, I mean I think we all want to share something we make at some point. but I probably have to give up wanting to make any kind of career or even part time thing from writing. I'm just not built for it I guess.

it's hard to accept. I tried developing templates for myself to follow to make it easier but I failed. I've tried many tips and suggestions and advice to write better but I just can't seem to grasp the craft. even reading doesn't help me.

I've thought about writing poetry instead, like you. but even though I like reading it I don't really like writing it much. I prefer to have characterts and drama, typical story stuff. but I struggle when it comes to putting everything together and actually crafting/building the story rather than just tell it.

sorry this got too long, I'm not really sure what I was trying to say, just need to go on a rant. I'm sorry if this was rude of me. thanks for reading if you do and I always like your responses so that's why I reached out, but let me know if I shouldn't do it like this

Had to wait until I got home from work.

So it looks like you understand your situation pretty well, actually, which is great to see.

Writing doesn't have to be a full time thing for you to go the published route. We have several published authors on here who have other jobs! You don't need to devote your whole career to it. It's fine for it to be a hobby and for it to be a hobby that you'd like to pursue a final result in.

If writing is something you enjoy, keep doing it, and if you'd like to progress, you can do it. (You can probably do it. Not everything is achievable for everyone. I will never be able to do advanced math, no matter how hard I try. My brain can't process it. But from what you're saying, your braincan process writing.)

You already know stuff you like or dislike, right? You know the story, just not how to tell it? Here are a few things that have worked for me and my discombobulated brain.

1. Bullet point lists. Just listing off major plot beats in bullet points. It's not an outline, it's not a plan, it's just a list of stuff that happens.

2. Rubber ducking. I pick somebody from something I've watched recently - for a whole there it was Keanu Reeves - and I explain my story to them multiple times so I understand myself how it works. Or not.

3. Draw a map. Not just a land map, but a map of where the characters go and notes on where they're from and what they're doing in each place.

4. Ask games. I make up so much stuff for ask games and some of it even stays canon!

5. Don't try to fit yourself into one mold of one type of writer. Just write whatever. Write one wip or 17. Write short fiction. Write fanfiction. Write one paragraph stories. Write comics with stick figures or rambling prose that goes nowhere.

5. When you read, rewrite it in your head. Edit those books! Pull out a trope you notice and stick it in a story. (A trope is anything as general as "enemies to lovers" and as specific as "traumatized tall girl with a big sword.")

6. Actually rewrite scenes, from any media you like. Choose a new pov. Focus on a particular sense, like touch, or write it in future tense, or change the setting.

7. Write descriptive prose that's not a story. Write something that's only dialogue. Write journal entries. Switch it up.

And sweetheart, if you are unable to focus or enjoy this hobby that is usually a good time for you, I think think the hobby is the issue. There's something else going on in your brain and taking up the space and you don't have room to create.

For instance, I work retail, full-time, and it’s the holiday season, and I'm fatigued and stressed and not currently writing anything. But I was also not writing when it wasn't the holiday season. And I was too fatigued to create then, too. And it's probably because my depression is acting up.

This might not be the case for you. I can't know. But everybody learns differently, and if you're willing to try new ways of learning, you might find the one that works for you! I hope so. I hope that you sit down with your brain and parse through it, taking the time to figure out the style that suits you best.

But mostly I hope you understand that regardless of how your brain functions or doesn't, that you are amazing and trying, because you like this thing, and you don't want to give up on it. So good job. As long as it is a thing that you like, I hope you keep trying. Somewhere there is a method that speaks to you, some way that helps you find the dawn after the dark. I believe you can find it.

Keep going, love.

[manybcdthings]

can you share any favorite headcanons for your muses that you haven't been able to get on the dash yet?

I have so many characters and headcanons for them this will be a long answer. I'm gonna pop it under a readmore just to be nice LOL

Hunter is surprisingly good at card games and he thoroughly enjoys them too. It's pretty much his favorite thing to do and he knows a lot of tricks but rarely ever shows anybody. He only really shows off his shuffling skills when he's drunk or just wants to be annoying before getting a game going.

Ruben is a lot smarter than the world gives him credit for, he's just never had the resources or the opportunity to do anything with it. He's more philosophical than he seems and enjoys deep conversations even if he doesn't have the vocabulary to back up his actual thoughts and opinions.

Ethan was just as bad as JJ is back in his youth and there's a lot of old faces in Center Hill that he technically has bad blood with. Blaze and Ethan never used to be friends until they got older and realized life was too short. When they get drunk together without supervision though, old arguments come to surface from 20 or more so years ago.

Bruce is only part of the reapers to feel closer to an emotionally distant father that focused far more on wealth and power than he ever did being a parent. Being the underboss is the best way Bruce has earned his father's attention and in turn he focuses in the same way on the gang that Lee does. It's why his relationships always fail and he appears more robotic than human.

Xavier is technically hopeless at a lot of things and is quite clumsy. His hobby of video gaming is where he feels the best at something, as he has impressive numbers and scores. He's the classical case of being an awkward outsider in public and thinking to himself "Nobody knows I just hit 12k streamers on COD."

Dusty has two tattoos that he is completely clueless about and he doesn't even believe people if they tell him he has them or they take a picture of them. On his back right between his shoulder blades is a four leaf clover, from the time he convinced a bunch of Irishmen that he too was Irish and spent the whole night speaking to them in an Irish accent. The other tattoo is on his lower back like a stamp tramp and it's simply a small dragonfly, apparently acquired from one of his many trips where he disappeared for months.

Gabriel easily becomes obsessive but in a caring way. He has a lot of hobbies that he doesn't have the time for, ranging from collecting stamps (lol) to bird watching. He gets bored of them or runs out of the excitement quickly. These obsessions usually start as ways for him to feel less alone but obviously, they never do the trick so begin collecting dust more than anything else.

Harvey was amazing on a football field, he really had the talent to make it professionally but felt the obligation to do his family proud more important. He still practices football and plays with friends, but he usually goes easy on people so he doesn't appear as a show off which is a stark contrast to his rather cocky personality in other areas of his life.

Cian still needs to find a way to be chaotic now that he's realized he shouldn't do so at his family's expense. His love for adventurous things has been diverted into relationships or bedroom escapades. He often hires escorts to bring sordid fantasies to life and is the a reason why he never goes to events with an actual date on his arm.

Hakan is nowhere near as smart as he likes to think he is. The only thing he's good at is getting other people to do his bidding, which is why he doesn't do well when people can stand up to him or defy him. His only hidden talent is knotting a cherry stem with his tongue. That's it.

Ben has a secret room in the back of his office for all of his nerd memorabilia. He doesn't tell ANYBODY it's there at all out of fear of being judged. It includes actual props from Marvel and DC, first edition comics and full on superhero costumes. He doesn't even bust any of it out for Halloween, he just goes in there and enjoys a drink from his Marvel themed bar and enjoys being surrounded by childish things.

Luca once had a crush on a high school teacher and it was the only lesson that he ever behaved in. He was convinced that because his father was well known to be a charming gentleman to women, that the teacher would be more than willing to risk her career for a seventeen year old. He got turned down obviously, and never went to her lessons ever again. This is the real story behind him flunking history, but he tells everyone he just hated the subject. He actually doesn't, he finds it quite fascinating.

[spoldhamauthor]

It's my birthday. A rat chewed through the wiring in the kitchen ceiling and blew all the sockets in there. Waiting for an electrician now. My house is riddled with damp and needs a damp course put in. We need a new roof - technically three roofs, really. First world problems as my oldest would say and of course, he is right. That doesn't stop it from getting me down, though.

I am usually pretty upbeat and optomistic. Maybe today I am just tired. If there happens to be anyone out there who would like to cheer me up, make my day and buy my book (Audible or kindle) then thank you! A review would be even better. If you give me a try, then thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoy it!

The Blurb: A collection of short stories featuring witches, Hag's Breath reinvents this entity. If you are looking for the near-comical character that is the stalwart of children's fairy tales, then go elsewhere. These witches are the stuff of nightmares. True horror characters with dark souls and sinister intentions. Powerful women, whose presence in the world is sometimes to be feared, sometimes to be sought out—but always to be respected.

"Nasty Old Hags

These are not watered down Disney witches. These are some old hags that you wouldn't want to cross. I enjoyed all the stories, and the narration was easy to understand."

Reviewer: Mike

"Woo hoo, Witchy Woman

Like Don Henly sang, S P Oldham held me spellbound in the night, by penning tales of horror and fright. When the witches come pray for the dawning of morning light, you will struggle, but lose the fight. Damn if he weren't right.

SP Oldham collects a coven of crones that will shrivel your feet or turn you into a toad. Be warned, Glinda is nowhere to be seen in this collection. In fact, the Wicked Witch of the West comes off as just plain silly in comparison to the bloody beldames in this book. Savor it. as a book like this only comes along once in a great while. Paula Hines casts a deadly spell with her vocals and you will be impressed with her depth and range. My only complaint? The book is just over four hours long. I needed MOAR malicious misanthropic mothers, sisters, and daughters of the dark magic."

Reviewer: LITRPG Audiobook Reviews

"Witchy Women Rule

It’s been forever since I checked out any books with witches as the primary characters. After listening to this beautiful beast, I will be seeking more witchy wickedness! Like your favorite band’s newest album, you won’t find a bad track anywhere in Sue’s collection. Each story is independent of the others and they all have their own unique feel. I’m so glad I gave this one a go and hope she continues to create wonderfully written tales like the ones found here. It goes without saying, but I will anyway. I highly recommend Hag’s Breath! I loved it!"

Reviewer: Jack Childress

"Great listen

I really enjoyed listening to these tales. I look forward to more from this author. The narrator did a great job with the reading."

Reviewer: LKandler

[this-nightmare-doesnt-exist-yet]

I found one of my comic roughs from the camp thrasher thing.

I might actually redraw and finish it as a short one page clip. While I don't think I have the energy at the moment to do the full original short story that I had planned the scene that I have is too unsettling to leave undone.

I still think about the camp story world even though most have probably already forgotten about it in favor of more fandom driven projects.

I've been using some similar world themes in the Wild Flowers world but it's not quite there yet. I think a key part of why the camp thing has stuck with me is that as a side effect of its origins the core focus is connection vs isolation. It's already something that I think a lot about, so it's not surprising that where there is a lore with meat to it I have something to work with and gnaw on.

I've been hesitant about working on it because I still have some internalized nonsense about how some of my works have branched out from doing overly complex fan art.

Like somehow people expect all valuable artwork to come from nowhere, like immaculate conception.

But that's like saying that farming isn't legit unless you have hay bails over one night. The vast majority of the time you need seeds to even get started, and when weeds spring up over time you pull them out.

Much like the ship of Theseus, it's as if people know where things started then they will have the false assumption that it is the same thing by the end even if all parts are replaced.

So maybe the issue isn't that I am alone but rather that I feel like if I work alone then my work somehow has less external value due to a smaller idea source pool.

The idea that so long as I am alone with my thoughts everything that I do will be fan fiction in one way or another. It's bullshit, everybody gets inspiration from somewhere. It still hurts though when people ask how I came up with a thing and they grow a look of disappointment when I tell the truth.

I'm sorry to ruin the magic with facts but most art is made by fans of things, not gods pulling from nothing.

While the work may have lost it's status as being a fan fic it will always carry the mark of being fan art.

So I am left unsatisfied with anything that has cultural roots and feel the need to do the near impossible task of making everything from scratch, every little thing.

I hate having to lie to maintain the idealistic facade that the unaware project onto things.

I just want to make things without having to deal with the expectation of it being good.

If somebody likes it that's great, but that's not its intended purpose. The intent is often just to make something, often regardless of quality. I can make good art sometimes but please don't expect everything that is made to be good. The act of creation doesn't have to center around having a consumer.

I post art sometimes but the truth is that most of what I make goes unseen by eyes other than my own. The fact that I bother to share any of it is a separate process from the one of creation. Sharing my work is like when I find a cool rock out in the woods and I know that someone else would think it's cool too.

Sometimes it's fun to just enjoy things without it having to have a bigger purpose.

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[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.

[ethanredotter]

My ideas for Zootopia 2

Ah, Zootopia. It broke the record for the biggest opening weekend for an animated film, went on to be Disney Animation’s third most profitable film ever, became the second highest grossing original film of all time, and was nominated for and won innumerable awards including many for best animated picture, and rightfully so. It introduced us to a beautiful, creative, and lovable world populated by amazing characters, and had a poignant message that was conveyed, in my humble opinion, in the best possible way. I liked it a lot when it first came out, but after recently getting into stuff with a similar concept (Beastars), and being subsequently recommended various fan content on YT (Savage Company, Return to Zootopia), I got back into the film again and absolutely fell in love with it to the point that it’s joined my top three films alongside Coco, and The Land Before Time. 

Which is why I am really, really craving a followup of some kind.

Seriously, of all of Disney Animation’s recent films (or heck, films in general), I feel like this one has the greatest potential for a sequel. The setting oozes creativity from its every pore, has so many nooks and crannies that we didn’t manage to explore in the film, its two main leads were perfect and I really feel still have plenty of room to grow, and there are still so many ideas old and new that can be explored. So far we’ve received a few tie-in books, a hidden object game which is no longer available, a few comics, including a series about stories from Nick and Judy’s childhoods, a very large and intricate land expansion under construction in Shanghai Disneyland and a game starring Nick and Judy in Epcot, and a Disney+ original series focusing on various characters from around the city. All of these are fantastic, but four years after the film’s release, we’ve received no official confirmation of a proper continuation to Nick and Judy’s story like a sequel or TV series, just a few rumors here and there.

We’ll get some kind of proper followup eventually, that’s for sure, but what could it do? What kinds of places could they take us to? What ideas could it explore? What could happen to our leads, and what kinds of new characters could they befriend or combat? Well, I’m gonna give my ideas right here; buckle up, because I have a lot.

The City

Let me start off with the City itself. I mean… It’s marvelous. The architecture, like the Oasis Casino, central station, first precinct, the various neighborhoods. The accommodations like the sprinklers, water tubes, Little Rodentia, and the climate wall! The city of Zootopia is a star in and of itself with just how much care, attention, and creativity was put into its every crevice, and we barely got to see half of what it has to offer, as we only got a proper look at five of its twelve districts. They’ve revealed a few other districts via some maps and books (Meadowlands, Outback Island, Canal District) but there are a bunch of others yet to be revealed, and plenty unexplored.

Let’s start with what could be done with the ones already revealed. The Canal District could accommodate the city’s highly aquatic residents like hippos, otters, muskrats, beavers and manatees, and also be one of the city’s primary trade hubs. In terms of layout, it could be like Venice meets the Mekong Delta on steroids where the citizens live and make their living either in boats, or in buildings whose entrances are right on the water. There could be some walkways for less aquatic animals, but most of the transportation is through the water; either via swimming, or via motorboats, riverboats, jet skis, and ferries. And indeed, this is possibly what they had in mind judging by the concept art of the canals. I hope to see them implement something like this in the future; this stuff is just insanely cool! In terms of infrastructure, alongside the various docks and warehouses, I’m thinking that it could be a place for aquaculture where all manner of freshwater seafood are raised, as well as plenty of touristy stuff like river cruises. Maybe we could have a boat chase here, or perhaps just a relaxing moment between our leads, or maybe both. 

The meadowlands would be a place for more temperate grazers like sheep, horses, bison, and various kinds of deer. It could be akin to a massive park district with plenty of recreation and places to enjoy a bit of fresh air, and its buildings could possibly be like hobbit holes and built into the hills. I’m thinking it could also be a place with a lot of mills to process both food and textiles, and its overall atmosphere could be quite agricultural and country while being in the middle of a city and not having much in the way of crops.

Now on to potential districts

Credit to @florenze​

The one that I and many others have thought of the most is a nocturnal cave district. This would be located beneath the rest of the city, and would, of course, have little to no light in order to accommodate its main inhabitants such as moles, mole rats, and bats. This place could have homes on the ceiling and walls for the bats, with various cranes and elevators for the non-bats to get around both to visit, and do maintenance. I imagine bat homes could be quite atypical compared to other species since they’d likely sleep upside down and crawl on walls a fair bit, and if they need to get anywhere they can just fly, so much like the canals, they might not have much in the way of front yards and instead just have elevators and sheer drops on their front doors. Likewise, the less residential buildings could have entrances at higher floors for the bats as well. Entrances to the district could be drive-in cave mouths, as well as big openings for the bats to just fly straight out of to see the other districts at night.

As an opposite to that, I was thinking that a central mountain district would also be cool to see. This would accommodate mountain sheep and goats, takins, pikas, llamas, as well as snow leopards, brown bears, and other mammals who like high and rocky locales. This place could be even more vertical than the cave district, and require either elevators, stairways, or surefootedness to get around, as well as perhaps some oxygen tanks depending on how high it goes. Therefore, cars would be nowhere to be seen, and if anyone wants to get in, they’ll need to park outside, or better yet just take public transportation to allow room for residents’ vehicles. Buildings could possibly be carved out from the stone, and the overall atmosphere could be a mix of the Himalayas and the Andes, and also a bit of the Rockies and Urals.

Regardless of what districts they show us, I would like to see a few more angles to the city than just a bright and clean middle class. Show off its dirty underbelly too, and I don’t just mean more of the street hustlers and thieves like Nick, Finnick, and Weaselton. The first film did an excellent job of showing us that Zootopia wasn’t some perfect society with its discrimination and criminals, and while we did get a nice glimpse of its dirtier side, I want to see more of the run down neighborhoods and their residents. Heck, maybe make poverty an aspect of the plot and a motivator for the villain. Although, they also could also easily cover it with Nick due to the fact that his family was struggling back in the day. Alongside that, I’d like to see high society too, especially the oasis casino that they really wanted to show off, but couldn't find a way to. Show us just how both lavish and run down this city can be.

New Characters

Of all the things I love the film for, its characters and their arcs are probably the biggest things, especially those of the leads. This film has a very diverse cast from a big old cape buffalo to a tiny little fennec fox, and they’re all quite memorable and fun. Now I know what some of you are thinking, “why are you covering new characters before the old ones”? Mostly because I have fewer ideas, but also because the ideas I have for some of the old characters are quite big.

Firstly, I’d like to talk about Nick’s family, starting with his mother. Yes, Mrs. Wilde is already an established character, but I’m still putting her in here since I want to talk about Nick’s family in the same section, and she’s gotten very little characterization; heck, we don't even know her name. She seems like a very nice and supportive vixen from what we saw from the flashback, there was a tweet from Rich Moore that we can infer a fair bit from, and the end of a comic that showed her being a very nice mother and a massive fan of a rock band made of rabbits. Nick is seemingly an only child since no siblings are mentioned anywhere, and they certainly seemed to be financially struggling at some point since he said that his mom “scraped up” the money for the scout uniform, and in the comics he was always extremely short on money and didn’t even have an allowance. Rich referring to her as “Mrs. Wilde” as opposed to “Ms. Wilde” shows that she was/is married and that the husband was probably Nick’s father. The last line of the tweet highly indicates that she and Nick are in contact and on speaking terms (although it really begs the question of where she was during his graduation as there’s not a fox in sight (although there were plenty of seats out of sight and obscured)), and also potentially hints at, uh… Things we’ll get to later. Unfortunately, we don’t know anything more about her. Did she know about Nick’s bad behavior? Did Nick even tell her about the incident with the scouts? Was she ever estranged from him? I’d like for it to be talked about, preferably with her present. I don’t want her to just show up in a call or something, I want her to actually have a scene with her son, and I’d love for her to meet Judy as well.

At least we know a thing or two about her, but we don’t know a thing about Nick’s father that has been confirmed. In one of the original cuts of the film, Mr. Wilde was a tailor who wanted to start up a company with his son called Wilde and Son’s Suitopia and give his kit the best future he could possibly have. Unfortunately, after many attempts at getting a loan to start it up, Nick tried to stop some lemming bankers from denying their loan by trying to grab the stamp from them, was spotted by a guard, and was forcibly and permanently separated from his dad because the city in that cut was was a horrible place full of horrible prey who thought that predators were nothing but horrible monsters ready to blow at any time to the point that they were forced to wear shock collars that would zap them whenever they got even remotely excited. Seriously, screw this setting, it made Beastars look like a freaking paradise. Anyway, back on track. Nick only mentions his mom, so where is his dad? Again, a fair bit can be inferred from the sources on his mother. The simple fact that he wasn’t mentioned in the flashback or the comics seems to indicate that he was out of their lives at that point in Nick’s childhood. Go figure, fans have gone nuts with the possibilities. I’ve seen depictions of him ranging from dead, to estranged, to a genuinely good dad who’s back in their lives now, and a psychotic criminal mastermind who wants Nick to be his heir… Yeah. Out of all those depictions, the loving father one is my favorite. Sure, Rich didn’t mention him in the tweet, but that could have been a simple omission since the question was about Mrs. Wilde. I’ll be honest, my perfect version of this idea is from the fan comic It Should Have Been Me, in which which his backstory and character is almost exactly what it was in the original cut: he was a fabric worker who moved to Zootopia with his wife and son in order to make it big on a tailor business, as he strongly believed in the ideals of the city and wanted to show Nick what a fox could become. He was repeatedly denied a loan, and eventually his obsession with making the business made his wife leave with Nick. After some time, he finally realized that being a role model was not the same as being a father and returned to them. I adore this interpretation for how it shows a family that struggled to stay together for reasons mostly within their control, but still managed to, and are now seemingly happier than ever, something I can’t recall seeing at all in any of Disney Animation’s films (if you know any examples, please list them), and also the fact that Mr. Wilde is a great, likable, and kind of complex character here who is a good man who just messed up as opposed to a simple deadbeat dad I've often seen him depicted as. I want to see something like this out of his father in an official follow-up, but even if he is still separated from his wife, I’d like to see him, and if he’s dead, still give us something; I want to know who this guy is and where he is now, and if there’s anyone else in the Wilde family, I’d love to meet them too, and I want to know how they feel about Nick turning his life around and bucking expectations and stereotypes. His mother is probably exceedingly proud of him, and his dad probably is too if my preferred version is used. Either way, give us a lovely father, mother and son scene (or just mother and son scene, because you know, she’s the only one confirmed to still be around).

On to the villain! The villain should be as opposite to Bellwether as possible; big, male, predator, and not trying to fool anyone into believing that he’s not the mastermind behind anything. We’ll know, at least partially, who this guy is from the moment he’s introduced and what his motivations are early on. Unlike Bellwether, we’ll dive into his character more and more as the film goes on and see what makes him tick. So, what could he want? The idea I’ve conjured up was that he could be a segregationist extremist who sees the founding principles of Zootopia as foolish, believes that this all mammal society is unsustainable, and that all species should completely separate from each other. Perhaps he just wants to get back at the city that he believes wronged him and/or his kind, or perhaps he wants to go back to the wild square one where it’s every species for themselves, and perhaps he thinks that will genuinely be better for everyone. Regardless, I think that this idea would be an interesting continuation of the first film’s ideas of prejudice and living in peace with your neighbor, where this villain would want to bring down the city because he hates prejudice, wants to bring down what he sees as a hypocritical city, and wants mammals to be better off by being separate and under harm. Also, unlike Bellwether who was a power hungry sociopath, this guy will be far more genuine in his pursuit and see himself as a liberator. But as I said, he could very well just be using it all as an excuse for petty vengeance and lashing out at the world in a spiteful rage.

Despite what I said before, I do think that there should be an air of mystery around him. Since he’ll see himself as a demagogue for all animal’s “liberation”, he could conceal himself in shadows during his broadcasts, and also cover himself from head to toe in feature hiding clothes such as a helmet/mask, and specially designed gloves and shoes that hide what his hands and feet look like in order to not show off what species he is. Basically, he could be a twist on the twist villain; he’ll be all mysterious and some could think that he may be a character that we’ve met, but in reality he’s the same character we’ve known all along. As for what species he could be, I was thinking that he could be a less looked at member of a well known family of animals. My best bet would be a smaller and less predatory species of bear like an American black bear, sloth bear, or a sun bear since we saw so many brown and polar bears in the film, and while he’d be small by bear standards, he’d still be quite large, and heck, maybe they could make him particularly large and scary for his species of bear. Also, since he would be a kind of bear whose protein historically consisted entirely of insects (especially in the case of the latter two), he could have extra reason to be angry with society since his kind never wronged prey (although again not quite the case with American black bears since they will sometimes eat fawns and even fully grown deer), but yet he was lumped in with the brown and polar bears. Of the three species I listed, I think the sloth bear would work the best since their protein entirely consists of insects, but, despite their small size and goofy appearance, they’re one of the most aggressive species of bear and have been known to charge at elephants and rhinos at the drop of a hat, and this could play into his characterization as bear Kratos. I think there could be some hints to his species throughout the story, despite how well he may try to hide it. For instance, American black bears when scared tend to do things such as pulsing and clapping their jaws together, while the south Asian bears tend to rear up and stretch their chests out to expose their white stripe. Perhaps he could unconsciously do things like that when particularly agitated or under pressure.

What exactly could make him want all of this? I was thinking that much like our favorite fox cop, he could have experienced much discrimination throughout his life, only far worse, and been downright spiteful instead of rolling with the punches like Nick did. And again, it could have been more pronounced on him since the discrimination was due to “Sins of the cousins” and his kind had nothing to do with any of what they accused him of. A tipping point could have been the Night Howler Crisis, which could have either personally affected him, or just confirmed his beliefs and made him want to go through with his plans to try and tear Zootopia down, and now, about a year or so after that Crisis, his plans can finally go into motion. As for how he’ll go about things, well, he’d go for the hearts, minds and the infrastructure of the city. Perhaps he could broadcast all over to spread his propaganda and instill doubts in in the population (notably in his fellow preds by reminding them what happened not long ago), and also strike fear in those who oppose him. Other than that, he’ll of course go straight for the city’s infrastructure via sabotage and kidnappings. One victim could be the mayor, who this time could actually be a good person and politician, or, as one official comic showed, Lionheart again… Was this an error, or was he seriously canonically reinstated after the shady crap he got up to!?

Anyway, expanding on the idea of the concealing outfit, I’m thinking that his followers (who I’ll just call The Cell for now) could do the same thing with tail hiders, stilts, and padding which would be especially effective for bigger animals to possibly lean over and look like something shorter and fatter in order to make themselves appear roughly the same as to make themselves not see each other as another species for the duration of this insane operation (it also has the added effect of making them harder to differentiate and track). This will eventually be their downfall for reasons you may have surmised, but I’ll explain that later.

Speaking of more villainous characters, I'd like to see a bit more of the criminal syndicates and mobs throughout the city. I'd like to learn who rules what parts of the city, how far their reach goes, and how they operate. Although, we’ll probably only get a glimpse in the film, but we could see the criminal organizations focused on more in a TV series or official comic book, because I think a film would be about a much larger and complex threat that could change the city and characters as we know them.

What about more heroic characters? Well, perhaps we could see the return of concepts from the original pitch of the film like secret agents. Considering that the villain’s plot could be citywide and insidious, I think it would make sense. It could be cool to see conceptual characters such as Skye developed and implemented, and have them helping our leads with the case (or perhaps they could just be a cameo in a movie theater, I dunno, they had a billion other ideas when conceptualizing). I’d like to see her come back because she seemed like quite an interesting concept of a mechanic and badass secret agent (Also, look at that concept art; she's flipping adorable). Perhaps she could be undercover in The Cell, and Nick and Judy could meet her after being ambushed by them. As they’re driving away, Nick gets shot in the shoulder with a dart, but when they reach safety, he realizes that he’s fine. He pulls the dart out and finds that it’s hollow and clear and has a note inside it. They read the note and it includes an apology and directions to a garage in the meadowlands. Later they go to the address and find a light tan fox working on a car. She introduces herself, apologizes further to Nick for shooting him, and then brings them into a safehouse where she gives them vital info on The Cell, and gives them a number to call her at and a few special signals and monikers to help out.

If I were to describe the character I imagine her having, it would be extremely enthusiastic, friendly, and possibly coming off as a little childish, but also intelligent, savvy, and consummately professional and well trained. Basically, a quintessential bunny ears lawyer.

Some people have wanted her to have some kind of past affiliation with Nick, but I’m not sure. I mean, it would be interesting and a good callback to the cut where she was his sidekick, but in this version him knowing someone who just so happens to also be a secret agent would seem a little odd. Then again, he knows everybody. Maybe she’s that mysterious Lady Friend mentioned by Finnick…? (she is a mechanic after all, and he loves his van).

Other than that, I’d love to see the ZPD itself expanded and characterized a heck of a lot more. Maybe we could actually get to know Nick and Judy’s fellow officers like McHorn, Pennington, and Wolfard, and finally see some actual detectives as opposed to just patrolmen, and also get to see the city’s other precincts. I’d love to see the folks at first precinct all working with and respecting our leads, and for all of their strengths to be shown to the max. As in, I want to see them in full SWAT gear conducting a raid; Bogo and the big boys breaching doors, the wolves and cats on marksman duty, and Nick and Judy doing infiltration.

Returning Characters

Let’s start with everyone’s favorite tiny fox, shall we? Finnick wasn’t in the film all that much and only said a total of 37 words (yes I counted), but despite this, he still left a shockingly large impact on audiences for his in your face attitude and vocal dissonance of being a little fennec fox played by a giant former pro wrestler, Tommy Lister Jr (may he rest in peace). And honestly, I flipping adored him too. The creators also liked him a lot and have featured him extensively in newer material such as Zootopia Crime Files, which had him heavily involved in a case and really managed to flesh out his character and specify what his relationship with Nick was like (which is to say, they are genuinely friends), and he even appears as a playable character in Disney Heroes: Battle Mode, and they have said that they wanted to feature him more in a sequel. So what could he do in a follow up? I’m thinking that he could become a major supporting character. I’d like to see him having some genuine friendly times and conversations with Nick and Judy such as going out to eat with them, and also get them out of some scrapes; perhaps by going nuts on a perp that’s threatening them and/or driving them out of a sticky situation. Perhaps he could also help the investigation by acting like an informant or mole (but as I said, in this cut that could already be taken by someone else). Or perhaps he’s gone or will go relatively straight and operate a totally legitimate ice cream shop instead of running a complex hustle. Perhaps he could also act as a shippe- again something we’ll get to later. I’d also like to learn more about him as a person; did he get into the hustling life because of some kind of discrimination like Nick, or is he just a roughhouser who genuinely likes what he does and wouldn’t have it any other way? Who’s this lady friend he mentions? Does he harbor any resentment for Nick for getting off the street and into the force? Obviously it’s not too strong if he’s still giving him Pawpcicles and interacting with him in a cordial way, but is there any there? I’d really like to see. Also, what's his real name? The directors said that Finnick isn't his real name, so what is it? Maybe tell us, maybe don't. As for who could replace Zeus, I’m thinking Kevin Michael Richardson. Whoever they get, I hope he does him justice.

Leave Bellwether out of this; she's served her purpose.

I wouldn’t be mad at seeing Mr. Big return, but I don’t really have any ideas for him. That said, I think that Fru-Fru could be a nice inclusion as a good friend of Judy. Perhaps Judy could hang out with her and do a few things like a little bit of Godmothering for the little shrew bearing her name.

Flash… If he shows up at all, make it a minor appearance, maybe even a cameo.

Bogo was technically the tritagonist of the last film, and I’d like him to remain in a prominent role. I loved his character and evolution in the last film; he starts off barely giving Judy the time of day and repeatedly gets really pissed off at her antics, and also blows off Nick on the simple basis of him being a fox. But he’s an extremely principled and just fellow, and in my opinion, an example of what a good police chief should be, especially since he gets over his prejudices and comes to respect our leads as much as his other officers (which is to say, a LOT). And it’s that respect that I really want to see in a follow up. I want him to send Nick and Judy out on important missions, I want him to trust them with their conduct and intel, and most of all, I want him to protect them and treat them like valuable members of the force. For instance we could see him chew out another officer for talking badly of them, and also risk his life to keep them alive. Speaking of, I also want to see him in action, not just in his office playing with apps (although I certainly wouldn’t complain if we saw him messing around) or showing up after the fact to arrest a perp; I want to see this big bull kicking tail and taking names. Again that prospective swat raid. Other than that, I’d like to learn a bit more about him as a person outside his job, and maybe get a full name.

Benjamin Clawhauser… I don’t have much in the way of new ideas for him other than seeing him interact with Nick. I and many others think that the two of them would be great friends with some awesome banter (and in the Tame Collar cut he was supposed to be one of Nick’s employees at Wilde Times, so they’ve got some of their dynamic figured out already). If I were to imagine Nick's nickname (or I guess we could say Nick Name) for him, it may be Chomps. Other than that, for the third time, flesh him and his backstory out a bit more; he’s a likable guy and I’d like to know more about him. I also absolutely think that he’d be yet another shi- Oh yeah, the main characters!

Nick and Judy

And finally, the part that I’ve wanted to talk about the most; Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps. These two are incredible. I know I’ve already gushed about every last little thing this film has done even remotely right, but these two are genuinely just plain perfection. They’re my favorite cinematic duo ever, and some of my favorite fictional characters ever. Their dynamic, their chemistry, their dedication and adoration of each other, the way they grow because of each other, it’s all just wonderful. If you want more details as to why they’re so wonderful (especially together), check out @beastars-takes​ post on their relationship and why it’s so darn awesome; there is not an off word in there, offers a lot of insight into the hidden depths that you may not have noticed, and helped me understand these two and the film all the better and gave me the intense love I have for it. Buckle up, these two are the longest part of the essay, because they were the best and biggest part of the movie, and thus I’ve got the most to say.

Honestly, my favorite parts with them were in the last 20 minutes of the film where they are just a perfect buddy cop duo (and ironically enough, weren’t even cops at this point) who clearly had an unbelievable amount of love for each other and even faith in each other while kicking serious butt, and seeing Nick give off that extremely genuine smile upon finally being able to live up to the oath he made as a kid at his graduation was absolutely heartwarming. I want to see more of THIS duo in the next film; a duo of true companions absolutely brimming with charm and endearment who you want to be on screen as much as possible. These two had such good chemistry by the end of the film that many people wondered whether there was something more between them than mere friendship. Were they… Romantically involved? If not, should they be in the future? Many people have been against this idea because they either don’t interpret their relationship that way, and/or they feel that a romance would be cliched and/or forced. What’s my opinion on this whole thing? We’ll get to that soon, for now, let's talk about character focus and development!

I think that Nick should be in the protagonist seat this time, and Judy should be switched to deuteragonist, although she’ll be more in focus than Nick was last time. I want to see how Nick feels about his new life as an officer, his past and connections, his home (does he live in a leaky pipe ridden apartment and sleep in a drawer like in this concept art, or does he live in a better place?), him kicking but with his new training, and as said previously, his family. I want to see him being truly happy and fulfilled for the first time in his adult life, and how it affects him. I want to see the full weight of everything that he’s gained and will continue to have at the forefront of his story arc, and likewise with Judy. I want to see him open up to people more, and I want to see him continue to prove to the world that a fox can be more than a shyster, and heck, maybe he and Judy are becoming something of celebrities from their adventures and maybe the two of them are using their status to help their communities in ways other than police work. Maybe the two of them will visit schools, more run down neighborhoods and communities of stereotyped animals to tell their story and show them what they can become if they believe in themselves and in others. I also want a big emotional scene from him, or at least an adult big emotional scene. While we did see plenty of big emotional scenes from him and certainly saw the depths of what he’s been through, it was Judy who really brought out the most emotion. This time around, I want to see Nick carry the most emotional scene, tears and all. My choice would be him realizing the weight of what he has gained and how much he doesn’t want to lose it. For instance, perhaps they could have a party at the station in honor of their promotions (I'd guess detective given their skill sets) with him, his fellow officers, his parents, and even his and her civilian friends such as Finnick. He’ll sit down next to Judy and his folks with a plate and a cup, and they’ll start conversing. Suddenly, officer McHorn comes up and commends him and Judy for their great work in their short time on the force, and how they deserve to be detectives after all the cases big and small that they've solved. Nick will look at him with a smile as he’s talking, and then notice something: all of the most important people in his world are right there in that room, and each and every one loves, respects, and appreciates him. His parents, his friends, and most importantly his brothers in arms, and especially the one who brought him into the fold and changed his life forever. The realization that he’s achieved the camaraderie he wanted and fulfilled the promise he made in his youth, how he's made people see him for who he is and not what he is, and how whole his life has become from this job and how it will get even better from this promotion hit him like a train and he starts shedding tears. His parents, Judy and McHorn notice. He tries to play it off initially, but he realizes that he has nothing to hide anymore and explains everything. McHorn says he really meant what he said and that he’s an integral part of the PD, and Judy and his folks begin comforting him and eventually Judy says “Oh you foxes, you're so emotional”. Nick gets a big smile on his face and gives her a tight hug, and then chooses to get up on a table and say a big speech of thanks and cheers to his family, friends, his fellow officers, and especially to the greatest gal he’s ever known.

Speaking of the sly bunny, I want to see how the events of the last film have affected her and have shaped her into a wiser person and more effective officer. Much like with Nick, I want to see her continue to buck other’s expectations of her and prove that rabbits can be far more than just meek farmers. I want to see her grow even more street smart, wise, and a better problem solver from seeing all that Zootopia has to offer and from her proximity with Nick. I want her to see more of the world’s complicated problems and for her to start to understand the bad parts of it even more, but at the same time continuing to see plenty of good as well (sometimes, a bit of both). Also, there’s a lot of Zootopia as a city that she still hasn’t seen; species, districts, holidays, you name it. I want a big part of her story to also be her experiencing everything the city has to offer, preferably with Nick at her side, and the wonder on her face. That said, I want the wonder to be shared. I want to see Nick enjoying this city like never before since he can look at it in a whole new light, and do so with the one who made it all possible. And likewise, Judy would feel the same in regards to being able to explore it with the one who changed her for the better, helped her keep her career, learn more about herself, and has continued to be there for her. And again like Nick, I want her to really feel what she’s gained: a great career, comrades who respect her, the ability to help others, and fulfillment of the dream she’s wanted since childhood, and an amazing partner who helped her achieve it all and got all the same things because of her.

And all that of course brings us to the big question. How should their relationship evolve? Well, uh…  I think… You see, I… I uh… Well...

This is on the bookshelf in my room

And this is one of my most viewed images on furaffinity (credit to RelaxableFur)

Of important note; I’m not someone who casually ships characters. I may consider the idea of them being a couple when they’re together on screen and have good chemistry, but I’m never like “Oh my god, they need to get together!” (in fact, I was neutral about the idea of WildeHopps until last year when I dived back into the movie), and I’m especially not one of those people who ships characters who obviously have no chance in hell of being romantically involved. I only really get on a ship if I think there’s a strong precedent for it in terms of character plausibility and storytelling potential (and it also helps if they’re absolutely adorable on screen). And in the case of these two, I absolutely think that they hit all three categories.

Now, let’s get into details. Do I think they’re just friends at the end of the film? Not necessarily. Do I think they’re romantically involved? Again, not necessarily. I think their relationship is complicated. As I said, they trust, respect, and care for each other to such an incredible degree that they were willing to do THIS all for the sake of milking the scene and keeping up appearances to keep the bad guy talking (and as you may or may not have noticed, Judy’s nose didn’t move even a bit during the entire act until Nick was right on top of her, whereas before at even the slightest sign of distress it would twitch like crazy), and then just casually laugh about the whole thing while holding each other. Speaking of which, they are clearly very comfortable with physical contact; Judy comforts Nick with some arm caresses

Nick let Judy cry into him and wrapped his tail around her when making up (how else would she step on it)

The two of them share the aforementioned very nice embrace when gloating to Bellwether (yes, Judy had a wounded leg, but the way they’re holding each other and how comfortable they are indicates way more than just physical support)

And there was also this part in the concert… 

Y’all thought that was just a hip check, didn’t you!? 

There’s also the fact that, while it’s obviously a rather playful exchange,  they just casually threw the big, big L out there in their last conversation, and not only that, but the whole thing is delivered in a kind of longing fashion, and depending on the translation the wording gets either more or less explicitly romantic.

As myself and Beastars Takes have stated, they are perfect kindred spirits who have irrevocably changed each other’s lives for the better, and they believed in each other when no one else would. For those reasons they have grown closer to each other than anyone else and can’t get enough of each other. They made each other’s dreams come true, they’re the greatest things that have happened to each other, and they will continue to be so, especially now that they’re together nearly every day of the year since they’re now on the job together. To me, that’s not a will they get together, that’s a when will they get together, and I’d find it more forced if they didn’t become an item (unless their sexualities don’t match, but I doubt that, because again all of their dialogue and physical closeness) 

And this officially licensed merch…

And these park character interactions.

And honestly, I think that many mammals will probably think the same way. As I almost said throughout, I think plenty of folks like Clawhauser and Finnick will see the spark between them and be Shippers on Deck. I could imagine Finnick teasing their obvious affection for each other, and Clawhauser could just be his usual self and just make little squees and mental notes whenever he sees them interacting, and there could be a few rumors about them floating around the PD.

So how should their romance develop, and how should their couple dynamic be? Subtly, and not too much of a change from how they already are, respectively. As I said, these two already think the world of and can’t get enough of each other, and I really think that there’s already a romantic spark between them that they just need to think through and expose. I give them half a year on the force before they’re all over each other, a year at most. I don’t think that they’ll even have to make any real confession of love to each other, I think they’ll just have to have the right moment to properly figure out that their relationship already is romantic and/or that it really would be able to work out between them, and actually cement it right there and then. That said, don’t drag the hookup out. Don’t have their entire arc be about them getting together. Don’t have them magically be together at the start of the story, but certainly don’t drag for the whole time. Give us time for them to be the slightly better than best friends we saw at the end of the last film while building up some extra tension, and then have them properly hook up in the second act. But as I said, their dynamic shouldn’t change too much. Again, it’d be more of a realization than a decision since they already have an unbelievably high opinion of and affection towards each other (and they seemingly already know that there’s something between them), and it’d be an enhancement of what they already have as opposed to a change; they’ll continue to be the best friends that they’ve been, just with an extra openly romantic component. Have them be even more willing to show affection both physical (hand holding, cuddling, and kissing) and verbal (more flirtation, and some I love yous). I want this romance to be sweet and unique with a lot more friendly banter, discussion and enjoying more platonic fun stuff (like playing games and joking together), and way less lubby dubby crap. I want their trust and love and respect for each other to be extremely apparent; continue to have it be clear that they think the world of each other and show the reasons for it, and don’t have them be too doting, or at least not that often. That said, absolutely feature some powerful romantic moments like a little dance, or the hookup stated before.

As I said before, I also really get on to a ship if I believe that it can add to the story, and in this case, I really do think it can. I think that their relationship could bring up and/or amplify a lot of strong themes that would complement the first film’s message perfectly. For instance, friendship, love and family not knowing the boundaries of species.

Now, it’s clear that interspecies relationships and marriages are a thing in this city: the directors talked a bit about how society could see their relationship and how Zootopia is probably open to the idea; the first couple that Judy meets in Zootopia are her neighbors Bucky and Pronk Oryx-Antlerson, who are a greater kudu and a gemsbok (they’re also same sex, so that indicates even more societal openness)

There was also an official comic about Flash trying to ask Priscilla out on a date to a movie, but he was too slow and lost out to a Hyena, so that indicates that even predator-prey relationships aren’t widely looked down upon. 

However, as the first film showed, Zootopia’s not a perfect society, so they absolutely could receive some nasty stares and insults in the city, and Bunnyburrow Seems to be less open on the whole. Yes, I’m bringing up the ever so popular “Nick meets Judy’s parents after their hookup” idea that hundreds of people have written stories about, but I genuinely think it’s a fun idea, and I’d like to see their reaction to Nick if he’s romantically involved with their daughter, and Nick trying to get used to country life and bonding with a new family. We saw in the last film that Bonnie and Stu are opening up to foxes, and I would imagine that they met Nick around the time of the concert in the credits, but how could they feel about their daughter being with a non-bunny? That could be a fantastic storyline to cover, and it could be a fantastic way to explore that theme of interspecies bonds, and also of families being built on love. That being said, them visiting Bunnyburrow (AKA my hometown in upstate NY: we seem to have an infestation of rabbits here), would be best for a TV series arc or a comic as opposed to a theatrical release, but they could still have the Hopps family visit Zootopia in the film and have many similar things go down. Another scenario could be from Nick’s family. Remember what Rich said about his mother waiting for a grandkit? Does this mean that she actually wants him to continue the family line, or does it mean that she just wants another little tyke to help raise? Either way, she could be an interesting addition to this idea since the creators have specified that they normally fall back on what is scientifically plausible for the film, meaning that Nick and Judy probably wouldn't be able to conceive a child, so they could introduce some hesitance or vice versa into the story through her.

With my previous villain idea, the theme of bonds beyond species could come up quite often. Nick and Judy could become targets of The Cell from the beginning for their friendship, but they could perhaps become more of targets once it becomes clearer to The Cell that they may be more (and because they’re likely foiling their plans). If the villain actually saw proof up close that they were together, he could absolutely lose it and just try to tear them limb from limb. But of course, their bond could also be used to their advantage alongside the villains’ hypocrisy and foolishness. For instance, in a final confrontation. Here’s my prospective scene: Nick, Judy and possibly other characters are surrounded by Cell members who are armed to the teeth and pointing all they have right at them. Everyone in the room is weary from all that’s happened over the course of the film, and are hesitant to start fighting again. Then, Nick speaks up and asks The Cell why they’re still fighting. He brings up the fact that they’re all fighting for the downfall of Zootopia and the separation of all species since they believe that animals only see each other for what they are and are cruel because of it, and that they’re going as far as to hide their species from their comrades to not see each other as separate, but only until the job is done, and then they'll go their separate ways. Of course, why should they see each other as one only for now? They’ve all bonded and seen each other as comrades all this time while not knowing each other’s species; why should knowing what they are be any different? This would result in some taking the plunge and removing their helmets, which would then result in the others seeing what they are. Our leads would tell them that they have not known each other's species this long and yet they’ve bonded together as brothers in arms; why would they want to break that because of stupid differences, and why would they want to use those differences to separate themselves? Some folks can tear and digest meat, some can clip and digest grass; what difference should that make? If they want things to be better, then they must be better, and show those who hate them that things can be better (and for extra effect, Nick and Judy could show off the bond that they’ve gained despite being not just two different species, but predator and prey). One member throws his mask out, then another, and another. More and more continue to throw away their masks and even suits, either because they were convinced or because they see the cause as hopeless, and within a minute the floor is littered with masks and discarded body suits, and the members of the once mighty Cell walk out of the room, many with their arms around one another, and some holding hands, and soon it’s just the leader and the officers alone.

Conclusion

So those were my ideas for a Zootopia sequel. To recap, I want to see even more of the city’s districts and more of its socio-economic angles. I want to see new characters both brand new and from old drafts, and I want an interesting and fresh villain who we can gain a bit of sympathy for. I want to see all of our favorite supporting characters from the first film continue to be great and have expanded roles. And above all, I want our leads to continue to grow themselves and their bond into something even more wonderful. I want to see Nick grow as a person and officer, and I want to see Judy grow alongside him. I want to see Nick’s family and connections, I want how his new life is affecting him, and I want to see him open up emotionally with himself and with those he loves, and I want Judy to continue to grow wiser about the world and everything ugly and beautiful about it, and how being on the force, and with the one she cares about most no less, shapes her into an even more effective problem solver.

So when could we see a sequel? Well, we may have to wait a while longer. While it’s very clear that the franchise isn’t dead, we’ve heard absolutely nothing official on a sequel, and current events at Disney Animation Studios are making it seem like we may have to wait more for one to come. The director and mastermind behind the film, Byron Howard, and the co-director and screenwriter, Jared Bush, are currently working on a musical film currently called Encanto which is set to release in November. Why did they do this instead of going straight for Zootopia 2? Rich Moore, the other head director, had to scramble back to work on Ralph Breaks The Internet after leaving it for a year and a half, and that pretty much left the team in pieces. Considering how much he seemed to want to be a part of the development of a sequel and how they said that they didn’t want to rush it, the other guys seem to have started Encanto to do something new while Rich was busy, and of course shake up their creative juices. However, Rich left the studio in 2019 to join Sony Animation, although he said he left the studio in good hands, and I certainly hope that’s true. Considering that Disney tends to announce films around two years before release, and also tends to have directors work on films released two years apart, 2023 seems like a likely release year, but 2024 would work better for getting a bit more development time into it, get some test screening done and to iron out any possible issues. 

That said, the extra year may not be totally necessary. Considering how well developed the first film’s world and characters were, and how much they conceptualized during its production, I don’t think they’ll have to conceptualize quite as hard, and most of what they’ll have to create from scratch will be storylines, themes, character development, and brand new characters, as well as possibly a few districts and species designs. But again, there was so much that they have already made that they just need to show us, as well as so many concepts to fall back on with developing brand new content that even in the conceptual stage that it may have be in they’ll have a relatively easy time coming up with incredible new content; unlike Frozen II & Ralph Breaks the Internet where they had to make up totally new locations, concepts, and everything in between. I’m of the opinion that with all the time that it’s likely been in partial production that the relatively little new stuff that they've had to come up with has probably already been quite refined, and by the time Encanto is done, they may well have something extremely robust and just need to refine it, and then make models and animate it, and give us Disney Animation's best sequel ever. But then again, that extra year may be good for it. But then again, I'm not a filmmaker, so I don't know crap.

And after that, we could end up getting a TV series with further adventures of Nick and Judy, and also flesh out the world even more by showing us districts, criminal groups, precincts, and all manner of other things. Perhaps it could be a police procedural with our leads taking on whatever the city has to offer as well as de  showing off more about them and other characters than the films could, and also potentially be a bit of a Segway into the next film (why yes, I think a Zootopia trilogy could be amazing). Thankfully the majority of the cast is made up of accomplished TV actors, so they’ll probably be able to get almost everyone back (but I am hoping for Jason Bateman the most since he IS Nick Wilde and no one can replace him (the same applies to Ginnifer Goodwin with Judy to a very slightly lesser extent)). My hope is that it'll be a D+ original, and thus have an extra good budget that'll hopefully bring in a great cast, and excellent animation and writing.

But anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed my ideas. Was there anything you'd like to add, or anything you didn't quite agree with (or any mistakes I didn't notice while proofreading)? Well then please do discuss them. Until next time, may your battles be won and your day be blessed, and may you be excellent to all those you meet! 

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 5: Skylines and Turnstiles

summary:  arriving at the University of Eastern Colorado, things start pointing to an unwanted direction

warnings: little allusions to anxiety and awkardness, everybody is finally getting along (kinda), mild sexual tension,  reader is fucking horny

word count: 3,116

read on ao3 here / danger days masterlist

You had been zoning out for about the last hour, only starting to pay attention as you saw the familiar red brick walls of the university. Joel had been droning on and on and on about football and the rules of the game, teaching it to Ellie and she lapped it all up excitedly. If there was one thing you had grown to love about the girl, it was her passion for knowledge, especially of the old world.

As they talked, you recalled your adventures the past month, thanking the stars it was a rather smooth journey to get here. The three of you only encountered one group of hunters that weren’t much trouble and they were rather well stocked on supplies and food, keeping you all fed for a few days longer.

The two horses were doing well too, the long trek didn’t seem to bother them as much as you originally worried. Made the journey much smoother and shorter than you accounted for. When you all left Jackson, it was only October, now it was maybe halfway through November. You were making pretty good time on your schedule. 

“I don’t see a glass building,” Ellie told you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We’ll need to get to the center courtyard of the campus. You’ll see it from there, it’ll look like a mirror made of glass.” You raised a hand and pointed through some buildings, vaguely gesturing the way.

You led them into an area of the campus that led to the science center. But Joel stopped you and dismounted, giving Ellie the reins, “Stay, Callus.” After a couple feet of walking away Joel asked her, “What kind of a name is Callus, anyways?”

He goes around, searching the area for either troubles or supplies, grumbling about the name Ellie gave the horse.

“Not my fault you forgot to ask Tommy his name,” Ellie jokes and jerks her thumb at you, “Or that she didn’t know it either.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this, kiddo. I’m just buddies with my dear Whiskey here,” you pat the neck of the black horse. He gave a little huff beneath your fingers and shook his head, enjoying the attention. “Besides, Cherry is the only one able to tell the difference between all of them.”

Joel gives you a faint smile as he reaches for the bit on Callus, guiding him through a gate into the middle of the campus that you waited by.

After being in such close proximity to each other, the two of you began warming up to the other. Of course, you still chucked snide comments at him, often calling him an old bastard when he’d piss you off or do something snide. He would reply in kind, calling you a brat and threatening you to behave.

Needless to say, that awakened a little fantasy you totally didn’t need of the man, eliciting some rather vivid dreams when you slept. Hinting that maybe you were unfortunately in need of a good orgasm to get it all out of your system once and for all. Being out in the middle of fuck-all nowhere made that kind of difficult.The mental imagery alone kept you up most nights on your watch while you kept an eye out as the two rested. Regardless, Joel had been a gentleman towards you, apparently all that southern charm was genuine but he was still a broody asshole most days, never once hinting he saw you in such a way despite how often you’d catch him staring.

Ellie on the other hand, took to you rather quickly. She would ask you question after question about California, FEDRA, what to expect with the Fireflies at the lab, what you were like before the outbreak. She was intrigued about life pre-cordyceps virus, it was as if it was a fantasy to her.

Well, you admit, you supposed it was. She was born after the virus took hold, she never got to experience the things you and Joel did in the world before.To go to a zoo, a concert, gossip with friends about who likes who in school. The only thing she knew was to keep fighting, surviving, and running. Despite how cheerful and passionate she could be about her comic books or absorbing as much knowledge as she could, you were saddened that she never got the chance to be normal.

As much as you tried to keep some things private during her lengthy questionings, you knew her curiosity was blinding. She meant no harm, likely going to you for these questions seeing as Joel was completely shut off from his past, not that you blame him. You couldn’t imagine what he experienced from what Tommy had told you before.

Ellie looked around on the horse, “So, these places… people would live here and just study? Even though they were all grown up?”

“Yeah, study, party, and find themselves. Figure out what they wanted to do with their lives,” Joel replied. He let go of the leather strap and motioned for you and Ellie to stay where you were as he walked towards what looked to be like a loading dock and began searching.

She repeated Joel’s last sentence about finding themselves, possibly turning over the idea in her mind, after a few moments of silence of both of you watching Joel she turned to you, “Did you ever go to college?”

You shook your head, silently telling her no. “I was too young when shit hit the fan, but I would explore these buildings and take the books that were salvageable. Read them when I had the time. Tried to educate myself however I could.”

“What would you have studied if you went?”

“I don’t know,” you think. Suddenly you remembered some of your favorite books that you had stolen from these very buildings. “I really liked reading the history books that I found here. Maybe I would have done something with that. Or maybe,” you ponder, “maybe I wouldn’t have liked history if not for the whole world fucking ending.”

Ellie considers this for a moment. Then, from the corner of your eye, you watch Joel disappear behind a corner and you turn towards her, “What about you?”

Ellie scrunches her face in thought. “Art. Or maybe music. I like being creative.”

You smiled at the idea, “Ellie Williams: Comedian, Artist, Rock Star.”

Ellie smiles widely and the moment is cut short by Joel announcing somewhere above you. “There was a look-out here,” his voice calls down.

Both of you look up and see Joel leaning over a concrete railing on the second floor. “That’s a good sign,” Ellie says to him, then she looks at you and asks quietly, “Right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You furrow your brows and begin to bite on your bottom lip, unsure of what to make of things. It’s unlike them to leave a look-out abandoned. Now that you’re thinking about it, you’re pretty damn positive you’d have come across somebody by now.

You try to get your facial expressions back in check, not wanting to worry Ellie or even Joel by making them feel like something is vastly wrong with how this looks. Before, when you were with the militia group, there were armed guards practically on every roof of this campus. They were always checking in with each other, making sure none of the infected or even hunters penetrated the walls. It wasn’t always secure or even practical, more lives were lost that way but it helped protect the lab.

You’re pulled away from your anxious thoughts as you spot Joel. He takes one last look around then comes down from the loading dock and gets back on the horse he’s sharing with Ellie and looks to you, gesturing his hand out in front of him. “Lead the way.”

You give Whiskey a little kick and he takes off, jumping over a concrete barricade then leading them up some stairs and under some ornate arches and pulling the reins to the left. With a motion of your hand you point to the science building in the distance, “There it is. The one with glass walls.”

Ellie looks over his shoulder and huffs a surprise, “It really does look like a glass mirror.”

Unfortunately there was a locked gate between the group and your destination. “Question is, how are we gonna get through here,” Joel thinks out loud.

After looking around it seems the only way forward is through the crumbling buildings. Joel dismounts from Callus once again and led you both through a broken wall on the left that led to the inside of the old library.

“How many people you think are there? Fireflies, I mean,” Ellie wondered.

“Reckon it takes quite a crew to run that operation,” Joel looks at you.

You nodded at both of them idly, “Yeah, when I was here we had at least a few dozen, maybe more. I kind of kept to myself.” 

“You think there’ll be other people my age,” she asked, not letting her eyes look up towards you.

“I do.”

The three of you approached another locked gate inside the building, essentially cutting off both the library and the rest of the hall you were in from each other. Joel pulled on the handle and it creaked open, Callus and Whiskey both shuffled and whined, making you and Ellie shift on them.

“Woah, woah, woah, what is it boys,” Joel tried to calm down the horses.

Your attention got pulled away when you heard a shriek and Ellie said, “Sounds like runners.”

Joel looked back behind him then forward at you, “Stay together. I’ll go check it out.”

“Joel, no wait,” you try to argue as you dismount but he closes the gate behind him.

“Stay with her,” he tells you. “I don’t want the horses or her runnin’ off again.”

You give him a hard look that he mirrors, neither one of you wants to budge but the look in his brown eyes make you waver, finally caving into his demand. “Stay alive, you stubborn old bastard.”

His lips twitch, hints of a tense smile wishing to creep on his face. He puts his hands up on a calm gesture as he removes his backpack, removing the shotgun from it and pocketing a couple extra rounds as he stands back up. “I’ll be right back,” he says your name softly, his voice deep and rich, “I promise.”

As he walks away, you inhale a deep breath and your heart is beating. You’ve come to hate it when this happens, not that it did much. Whenever the three of you found yourselves in a tight situation with the infected, you each carried on with taking them down. You hated this, hated that he felt the need to do this on his own.

It fuckin’ sucked waiting.

Just as you were working yourself up more, you heard five consecutive shotgun blasts. Then silence. Ellie must have noticed your worry because she announced loud enough for Joel to hear, “Hey, I was thinking… I would’ve wanted to be an astronaut.”

“That a fact,” his voice rang out in the distance, echoing off the library walls.

“Yeah, can you imagine being up there all by yourself? Would’ve been cool. I’m just sayin’.”

You opened up the gate, leading Whiskey inside the library, still simmering with whatever the hell you were feeling. Ellie trotted her horse past you to another gate, this one opening with a panel and leading back outside to the courtyard on the right.

Faintly you could hear presumably Joel starting up a generator three times and then panel next to the gate lit up. You pressed the button, opening it up then went back to Whiskey, jumping up into his saddle.

Joel came back down the steps and grabbed the reins to Callus and his eyes fell on you, “Told you I’d be right back.”

“What about you? What’d you want to be,” Ellie asked him.

Joel looked away, focusing on something in the distance as you all walked out the opened gate. He scratched at his beard and admitted, “Oh… well, when I was a kid I used to want to be a… a singer.”

You raised your eyebrows and gave a small laugh, Ellie did too. “Shut up,” she said jokingly.

“I’m serious.”

“Sing something”

“Ah, no.”

“Come on, I won’t laugh,” she begged.

“I don’t think so.”

You watched as they both bickered over this, Ellie even tried to pull you into the conversation, saying your name, “Come on, tell him we won’t laugh!”

“Maybe he can treat us after a successful creation of the cure,” you compromise. Joel turns to you and ponders.

“We’ll see.”

The three of you make your way down the steps, then turning to the left, continuing your trek to the science center. Ellie gets Joel's attention, “She said she wasn’t sure what she would have done.”

“Is that so?”

You shift your weight on Whiskey, “Yeah. I mean, I like history now but back then? I didn’t really have a plan after graduating high school. I didn’t really click with anything, y’know?”

He absorbs that information and ponders. “Yeah, I get it.”

The silence took over and whatever anxiety you had was lessening yet amplifying the closer you got to the building, still wary of the fact you hadn’t seen any sign of the Fireflies aside from the abandoned look-out. Joel got back up on Callus as you approached the center of the school and together with Whiskey, jumped over another barricade.

The view in front of you was a much larger campus courtyard, with a giant fountain in the center decorated with a statue in the middle of it. Ellie was the first to notice a small group of bright orange monkeys and cooed at them as they chattered and swung around the clearing.

“That was kinda awesome,” she said as they swung away into a nearby building.

You smiled at her reaction and asked, “First time seeing a monkey?”

She nodded and repeated, “First time seeing a monkey!”

Atop the two horses, you all keep looking around searching for a sign of life but finding nothing. Leading you all down another outside corridor. Joel offers, “Maybe these guys like to keep a low profile.”

Ellie, now sounding less energetic, half-heartedly agrees.You bank right, vaguely remembering where to go when she points to a wall to the left. “Hey, look. Fireflies.” When you turned to look, you noticed the old wall tag.

“Yeah, it was to help point the way to the building we were in, in case new recruits got lost or something like that,” you tell her.

You pull into another corridor that is also blocked with a gate. To the right of the wall is a painted sign, saying ‘disconnect generator when not on duty’ in bold white letters.

Together, each of you gets off Whiskey and Callus and attempts to lift the gate to find it won’t work. The damned thing wouldn’t budge. Joel grumbles, “Probably have to find the generator.” He walks to a barricaded doorway to the right and peers around it then kneels. “It’s gotta be through here.”

“Joel, you are not going by yourself again,” you tell him.

He looks over his shoulder at you and cocks an eyebrow at you. The two of you, once again, locked in this damned game. He sizes you up with an intense stare and he already knows he’s won. You groan loudly, “If you die in there, just remember I told you so, old man.”

“Watch Ellie, you damned brat.”

He turns and crawls under the barricade, giving you a bit of a nice show of his ass before entirely disappearing. You roll your eyes to yourself as you turn back around, standing near Ellie and the two horses.

“So,” she starts.

“So?”

“What’s going on between you and Joel?”

It was so unbelievably hard to keep your face in check, to keep your internal screaming from etching your facial expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Ellie.”

“You both look like you want to fucking kill the other in their sleep.”

“That’s because I do.” Amongst other things.

You cross your arms in front of you, mindlessly showing your defensiveness on the topic and definitely not trying to tell the obviously fourteen-year-old who has never had the sex talk about how your body is screaming with alarms to get dicked down by the first person you see. Mentally scolding yourself for your predicament. How dare he.

“That’s just Joel,” she says. “He’s always like that.”

“He needs to learn how to work as a team or else we’re all going to end up dead, or worse.”

Gunshots cut the conversation short, the two of you ducking close to the ground, both pulling out weapons. It was difficult to tell where the shots came from because the two of you were still in a tunnel but you whisper-shouted, “Joel!”

Nothing but eerie silence responded to your call, settling in your bones. It took everything you had in you to not bolt and look for the man but both you and Ellie looking around for any sign of him. “Son of a bitch, this is exactly what I was talking about,” you groan frustrated.

Seconds ticked by that dragged into forever-long minutes. You weren’t a nervous person on missions, always trying to stay hyper-focused but truthfully, you don’t know how you’d handle the return journey with just Ellie.

Before you could work the nerve to go search through the maze of dorms, Ellie notices him before you, “Joel! Are you okay? What happened in there?”

“More infected, I’m fine,” he shouts, exiting a door from the far left, as he runs over to where you and Ellie were standing still, waiting for him.

“Here - come open the gate!”

As Joel pulls the generator to the wall to plug it in, Ellie tells him, “Holy shit you’re lucky you came out of there alive. She almost ran in after you.”

Suddenly you felt like you couldn’t breath under your coat as you gave Joel a sheepish look. “I didn’t want to have to explain to Tommy that I got his brother killed, alright? Don’t let it get to your big head, cowboy.”

Joel raised a brow at you then grunted, resuming to kickstart the generator to power the gate. It came alive kind of loudly but you resigned, only to mount your horse again choosing to ignore whatever Joel or Ellie could be thinking.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 16

oh gosh, i'm so sorry for the late update!! i promise i'm still working on this, little by little. i am on vacation next week, so maybe i'll get the chance to really put some work in.

in any case, enjoy today's update c:

okay, so who the hell was gonna tell me that CBG’s designed a whole-ass album cover for my favorite artist of all time?

scratch that. who was gonna tell me she designed my FAVORITE album cover for my FAVORITE artist of all time?

Bubbles, as it turns out, has known Marinette Dupain-Cheng since he was four years old. Went to school with her and everything. So that’s another scoop to the shit Luka’s landed himself in. He still isn’t sure what gave him greater whiplash: finding out about that connection, or finding her name in the fine print of Jagged stone’s album credits. He also isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing that Nino mentions little else, and especially dodges the question of if it’s even cool to actually admit to having a gigantic crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or whether he’s just wasting his time.

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool.

(Luka is most definitely not cool.)

Especially for those freeze-frames of time that he wonders, to his own horror, if Bubbles has been Adrien Agreste all this time.

It takes him the better part of an hour of pacing and fidgeting with his guitar pick to realize that no, he hasn’t been casually messaging a fashion mogul’s son who also just so happened to be Marinette’s own gigantic crush. He doesn’t seem like the type to use “dude” in everyday conversation, and for another thing, it didn't exactly like up with what Marinette had said about them knowing each other in middle school.

One day, Luka swears, he’s going to take this anxiety thing out back and have it meet its maker.

Even if, maybe, he sort of is its maker.

(Okay, maybe he's going to take his brain out back, because he's definitely not responsible for that.)

But he figures, once that initial panic and urge to scream into his pillow wear off, that it might be a cool talking point between him and Marinette. One that, for once, doesn’t have much to do with either of their jobs. Or with how tongue-tied he gets around her because she just won’t stop being so pretty. Not that that’s a problem; both his sister and his mother would have his head for ever thinking that way, and even then, Rose would tell them to get in line. Something about how they didn’t raise him this way, even if two of them didn’t even raise him at all.

Luka waits a couple of days before stopping by the bakery again; it gives them both some breathing room and the time for those postcards to be finished and printed. He thinks about it a lot. The postcards. The effort. Marinette, too, but in his quietly flustered opinion, he thinks that’s a given. He doesn’t get the chance to come until close to closing time again because of his delivery shift; he just hopes they don’t mind too much. He braces himself the whole ride over for whatever may be coming: another friendly crack about napoleons and pear tarts, the beauty of the postcards, maybe even another offer of kindness if Marinette’s pattern is anything to go by.

The one thing Luka doesn’t brace himself for—which, of course, is the one thing that ends up happening—is the door propped open, and the music drifting out through the crack. And he can’t even revel in the fact that it’s one of his favorite songs playing, because…

Because Marinette is dancing. Rag in one hand, spray bottle in the other. No, it’s not like, a flawlessly choreographed routine or anything. It’s more like a mix of what Rose does during their down time when she has too much energy and nowhere to put it, and what Juleka does when she’s trying to find the rhythm of a new song. It’s blissfully unaware, and beautiful, and it feels like home, and Luka can’t stop staring.

He doesn’t mean to. He knows he shouldn’t. It’s just… he can’t remember ever seeing a moment when she was simply “Marinette, “instead of “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Friend to Practically Everybody.” or “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Daughter of the Owners of The Best Bakery In Paris.” or even “Marinette, the Girl Behind the Counter with the Sketchbook Full of Secrets and the connections to Jagged Fucking Stone.”

Okay, maybe he’s been watching a couple too many fantasy movies lately.

And he definitely needs to look away, like, right now, because she does this thing with her hips that makes his brain forget how to function for a second, and he needs his brain to function in every sense of the phrase, and God fucking damn it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is hot and he’s not supposed to think that she’s hot—

And she’s looking at him. Frozen. right as he’s about to get off his bike and knock.

And, like the total idiot he can only manage to be at the worst possible times, he trips. Over his bike. And faceplants, right in front of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He’s somewhere between waiting for death to take him, and thanking his Ma for always getting on him about wearing a helmet, and wondering if he really was so stupid that his first instinct was to run, when the bell over the bakery door rings like mad. Someone cries out his name, and the music cuts, and there’s a skitter of footsteps on concrete. When he comes to himself and starts to sit up, he finds himself face-to-face with Marinette, who's kneeling beside him and already scanning him for any injuries.

The first thing she says, with her hand in her hair, is, “Oh, God. She’s gonna kill me.”

The first thing he says, with a wince, is, “Yikes.”

It’s then that the pain sinks in, dull and searing and throbbing all at once, as if punishing him for choosing to say that, of all things. He sits up a bit more, pain chasing up his spine and stinging his palms; his knee is badly scraped and starting to swell, he realizes once he gets a good look at the rest of him. He can’t tell yet, whether Juleka would call this karma or kismet. All he can think is that at least his jeans were already ripped.

“Can…” Marinette swallows hard, but otherwise she’s entirely unfazed. “Can you stand? Put weight on it? Oh God, oh my God, she’s actually gonna kill me.”

“I…” Cautiously, Luka tries to get to his feet, and Marinette makes space for him. All it takes is one step for a jolt of pain to shoot up his leg, and he staggers and clutches the closest streetlamp, nearly tripping over his bike again in the process. “Shit,” is all he can bite out after drawing his breath in through his teeth and holding onto it for too long. He lets it out, little by little, and his grip on the lamppost loosens. “It’s okay, I’m—I can just walk my bike to the metro station, and—”

It’s like she isn’t even listening to him; she’s looking around the bike, evidently searching for something. Finally, she finds it—his bike lock—and after it and the bakery door are secure, she coaxes his arm around her shoulder. It’s almost comical, because he’s got a good thirty centimeters on her, but it hurts too much to laugh. Or, apparently, to stammer in protest when she leads him through the side door and up the stairs to her apartment.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Seeing her in her pajamas was enough of an invasion of her privacy. But seeing the inside of her literal, actual home? Oh, no. No way.

“You’re hurt,” she says simply, as if she’s read his mind; her voice is trembling, the way voices do when they know they shouldn’t. “It’d be against like, everything I am as a person if I just let you leave.” She only lets go of him to unlock the door, and only then does it occur to him that, for a few moments that should have been blissful, they were side-by-side, and in some places skin-to-skin.

Mr. Dupain gives them a funny, almost unreadable look when Marinette opens the door. One look at Luka’s leg seems to answer any questions he might have had, and effortlessly he helps Luka to the couch while Marinette disappears into the bathroom. “You know,” he jokes under his breath, “When I imagined someone falling for my daughter, I didn’t mean literally.”

Luka’s face goes hot. “I didn’t—I’m not—”

Whatever he wants to say falls on deaf ears, and Mr. Dupain makes himself scarce as soon as Marinette emerges from the bathroom. Even as she lifts his leg onto the coffee table, Luka swears he can feel those kind, quietly insistent eyes burning holes into him all the way from the kitchen. He doesn’t get to think much more about what Mr. Dupain might have meant, or what he would have said to refute it, because Marinette is pressing an alcohol pad to the scrapes, and it stings like a motherfucker—which is probably a good thing for more reasons than one.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says weakly, because somewhere along the way, I don’t deserve it got stuck in his throat and refused to come out.

Marinette gives him a look. He can’t quite figure out what it means. “Yeah. I do.”

“Nah.” He readjusts, braces himself for the second sting of the ointment and the bandages. “I kinda deserved it. Jules would call it karma, I guess.”

There she goes again, wincing at the mere mention of Juleka. Or maybe… maybe it’s something else. Without a word, she gets up and disappears into the kitchen, and he spends her whole absence wondering what he said or did. He’s only relieved when she returns with a bag of frozen corn and a shrug as if to say, It’s all we had. She presses the bag to his knee, breathing deep in time with him, or maybe in hopes that his breathing will start to match hers. Then she speaks, and her voice wavers.

“Why would you ever think,” she murmurs, “that you deserve any pain?”

Luka opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens and shuts again. This time, at least for a while, the words don’t even make it to his throat. Eventually, all he can spit out is, “I was. Watching. You.”

“I know,” Marinette says, turning as pink as her shorts. “I saw.”

That’s the one thing he can appreciate: she doesn’t try to downplay it or say it was dumb. Even now, she’s unapologetic, and direct, and God, maybe he’s just fallen a little more. “I shouldn’t have,” he says. “I was gonna knock, I was…” He shifts again, his knee still in her gentle grasp, and flinches. “I just… wanted to see your postcards.”

I just wanted to see you.

“Marinette.” His lips tingle just from saying her name, and his stomach is churning. “Who… who’s gonna kill you?”

This time, Marinette goes scarlet; it would look about as pretty as literally every other color and pattern she wears if she didn’t seem so… mortified. “I’ll go get one of—the postcards,” she says—stammers, more like—and as she’s heading upstairs she calls out, “Papa, he can’t walk. Can we drive him home?”

From the kitchen, Mr. Dupain winks.

1 Photo Attached

RIP lol

and no, i’m not talking about my jeans. those were already like that.

but also. 😬 oh boy.

[bansheeoftheforest]

Why do we demonize food?? I just tried mushrooms stuffed with crab for the first time, and it's amazing. I had a bowl of miso soup, a crunch roll, tempura shrimp, and vegetable gyoza prior to it. I am drinking sweet tea as I write this. It's the best. I feel so full and happy. I am in bliss.

Long story short, eating good food and being given Looks for it from my mother has made my brain go mushy with longing for acceptance, and also my love language is food so now I come to you to sappily suggest that Jekyll has an appetite. He has a big one. He is embarrassed about it and tries to hide and ignore it, but someone finds out. Maybe Jacob, maybe Griffin, whoever of your choosing finds out and just.. starts leaving him little snacks. Takes him out for lunch. Let's him get desserts and smiles and teases him about always choosing peppermint flavoured things.

Does he cook? He should cook. He should leave freshly made little meals and snacks outside the Lodgers doors when they have bad days. Someone catches him and he denies it vehemently but it's too late, they know he's a big softie who makes food for those he loves.

Just Jekyll learning to accept the little pleasures in life and slowly learn to love himself and his body's needs. Let him be happy and full of good food.

I am especially sappy at the moment, so I'm going to also wish for you to be happy and full of good food.

My horribly low appetite made me feel full just reading this yet your longing for bliss and acceptance is absolutely adorable and endearing Jeks my beloved <3

Also, when reading this, all I can think of is Azir*phale from G/O (lets hope this doesnt show up in those tags now dsdfs). Just... Just Henry absolutely loving food and always having loved it but he got taught at a young age that eating more than necessary is either wasteful or gross so he feels ashamed for it, making the HJ7 just further made it harder for him to hide his appetite because the transformations just makes him so hungry. He is nowhere near really snobby when it comes food as long as it tastes good and doesn't make him feel like shit (although that won't stop if it does taste good) and yet he just enjoys it so much. It's a guilty pleasure he harbors and especially if his family was quite poor (which, I believe, would go against the drafts of the comic but eh <3) and he was never really allowed to enjoy food in such a way. But then he walks past bakeries and restaurants and he just, he just watches all the foods and sweets on display and his mouth starts to water and he just wants to go in and buy something nice for himself but he feels ashamed for it. It goes to the point where he can barely eat by the Lodgers or other people because he is so scared of making a fool out of himself because of his appetite and his love for food, his metabolism is so goddamn fast you'd think the man barely eat at all. But then his love interest finds out, maybe they just walk in on him absolute inhaling a bowl of good soup (which is hypocritical of me to say, because, in my humble opinion, no soup is good /hj) as if it was some fine wine or whatever, and Henry just feels so goddamn embarrassed for it, but then his lover starts bringing him snacks and if Henry just as looks at a bakery when they walk past it, they will drag him inside so he can treat himself because he deserves it. Henry and his lover going to a restaurant, Henry allows himself to eat to his heart's content, his lover is just watching him with the dopiest smile as Henry does a lil happy wiggle because the food tastes so good. So many "can I have a taste of that?" *kisses* thingies and the love interest kissing away whatever food accidentally gets around Henry's lips yes pls <3

Henry somehow taking notes on what every single Lodger or other friend of his (plus is lover, of course <3) likes and what their favorite sweets and treats are so he knows what to do to cheer them up when they are feeling bad. But then someone catches him doing it and he, once more, feel embarrassed but the Lodgers all think it's terribly sweet, and it ends up with Henry and Doddle cooking sweets for the other Lodgers (and also, Doddle allows Henry to lick out all access batter or dough from the bowls while the treats are in the oven. Henry gets to sit on the counter and swing his legs and be happy <3)

You are so sweet and this was so sweet to read Jeks my beloved <3<3 I hope that your day now, too, will make you happy and full of more good food <3

[karliesbuzzcut]

(100) Million Dollar Lawsuit

Intro | part1 | part2 | part3 | part4

We are on the last chapter (for now) and this the most chaotic one. Mainly because it doesn’t follow any kind of chronological order (or logical sense), it’s just Russ going in circles for literal years.

But I’ll try my best to condense it for you, so all you need to do is to keep your seat belt fastened until the aircraft stops completely.

Right after the failed Ari lawsuit, Russ goes back to his one and only love: Taylor Swift 💫 And he has learned a lesson — not a good lesson, mind you, but a lesson: small claims courts won’t take him anywhere. If he really wants to punish women for not complimenting his suit, he will have to file a multi-million dollar federal lawsuit.

But, since denying sex from The Russell isn’t illegal (yet), he had to come at it from a different angle. I’m going to give Russ a chance to explain himself first.

Before you ask: yes, the following was Russell’s response to a woman thanking Taylor for visiting an 8 year-old girl who was very badly burned in an accident.

As I’ve always said, it’s okay if you aren’t fluent in Bullshit. That’s what I’m here for.

You see, Russell views human interactions as a series of transactions: I make a tweet worth liking, you go on a date with me; I take you to Olive Garden, you give me a handie for free; I put on a suit, you hug me and smile; I write you a song and sue you, you produce said song. Whenever women don’t fulfil their side of the deal, he becomes enraged.

But the reason he has such a strong hate-boner for Tay, is because she seemed to also follow his same ‘moral code’. A kid makes a cute video, she visits them at the hospital. A fan writes her a letter inviting her to their wedding, she goes to the wedding. A couple of kids fold 1989 paper cranes for Andrea, Taylor invites them to one of her concerts.

Russ thought “this is a done deal”. He didn’t write that song for Taylor because he particular liked her; he just thought she’d be the most likely artist to produce it — or at least acknowledge his existence.

I mentioned before that Russ wrote a whole-ass book about this. And I think it’s as good a time as any to talk about it. For a short amount of time, Russell chilled out about the ✨100 million dollar lawsuit ✨ but my guess is that he thought his book would get him the same results as a lawsuit? To be fair, the book is fantastic. 5/5, would recommend. 

He details the harassment he went through after suing Taylor Swift (the first time). Apparently old ladies at coffee shops would scream at him because he dared to sue Our Queen. A Mexican even pointed a gun at him (it wasn’t me, guys! Just a fellow countryman ❤️) and ordered Russ to drop the lawsuit. Computers at his job caught on literal fire because he was sent very powerful viruses. His friend Ken — who definitely exists! — was hit with a Molotov cocktail. Yep. 2016 was definitely the year people were willing to murder for Taylor Swift.

There’s also this brilliant dream sequence that involves an owl with the voice of Morgan Freeman, and Taylor’s agents guarding a tower in which she’s being held captive. 

ALSO ALSO: an entire chapter is called “SHE CHOSE HIM OVER ME”. Taylor Swift chose Joe Alwyn — a man she actually knows — over a man she’s not even aware exists. Women, amiright?

I think Russell would enjoy the Kaylor community to a certain extent. Not the lesbian part, obviously: he doesn’t trust women who don’t want to touch his peen. I just mean the baseless hatred of Joe. Look, I made a little collage of his rants ❤️ tell me if any of this sounds familiar!

You know — I’ve been joking around a lot about Russell just wanting to do the nasty with Taylor. But you know me, I like joking around. In reality Russ only wants what is fair. He wants to put a stop to all these senseless acts of kindness perpetrated by Taylor ‘The Generous’ Swift.

This isn’t about him at all, actually. Shame on you for thinking there’s an ounce of greed in that selfless little body of his. HE’S DOING THIS TO PROTECT THE KIDS WITH CANCER!

There are no ulterior motives here! This isn’t about a date!

THIS IS NOT ABOUT A DATE AT ALL GUYS STOP SAYING THAT.

I think this is my favourite post of his, because– grammatically speaking –he doesn’t specify which of them is wearing the red dress. And that sends me every goddamn time.

Anyway. The book, as magnificent as it was, got him absolutely nowhere. I know, I can’t believe it either. So he went back to focus on his lawsuit. But apparently not enough, because he didn’t serve her properly..? Now, don’t expect me to understand this, because I am very stupid (so it’s quite a good thing that I haven’t sued anybody for millions of dollars) but something about him sending the lawsuit to her old legal team..? And then trying to force UPS to serve her? I think he even said he was going to serve her in the middle of one of her concerts... but I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned 🤷‍♀️ oops.

Of course, Russie wouldn’t allow such an anticlimactic ending. Can you guess what he did? Please tell me that you can guess what he did. HE MADE ANOTHER SONG 😭❤️

This one is called ‘I Don’t Get You, Taylor Swift’. Another masterpiece that we definitely didn’t deserve 🙌

undefined

This was around April, 2019. By then I was being lured away by Kaylors, so I broke it off with Russ. I know that he filed a 3rd lawsuit against Taylor last year, which is just like the second one but hopefully this time he’ll be able to serve. And listen— I know that sounds like an awful thing to wish on Taylor, but I’d rather have Russell occupied suing a rich woman (who isn’t even going to deal with him), than a poor sex worker in Nevada. I bet TayTay would prefer that too.

Well guys, I’ve mentioned this a few times already, but I really had to be selective with the amount of information I was going to throw at you. I’ve avoided some of the shittier stuff he said or did, because I wanted to keep these posts as lighthearted as possible. I also didn’t touch on many things because they would just derail us. Like for example: one of the few lawsuits he has filed against someone who isn’t a woman, was against the state of Utah. I know, right? He’s trying to singlehandedly legalise prostitution in Utah, and even wrote a book (more like a pamphlet) brilliantly titled ‘Why I'm Making It Legal for Your 18 Year Old Daughter to Get In Bed with a Complete Stranger for Only 500 Bucks: A Short Essay from a Pro Se Litigant who is Challenging the Utah Brothel Bans’.

I copy-pasted that title guys, I swear to god.

The book is very graphic. This one I certainly do not recommend as I still suffer nightmares because of it.

Soren is a character who also had to be cut out — which is a shame because he really tried to be a good christian and help Russell. Not as in “I support you, Russell” but as in “why don’t you take a nap, Russell”. Turns out, even cinnamon rolls have a limit. Russ, of course, blames Taylor Swift for the fact that he’s losing his friends. I’m not joking — it’s an article in his lawsuit:

Greer has lost family relationships, friend connections and business connections because of the trauma of Taylor Swift. His family tells him to "get over it," resulting in shouting matches and strained relationships. Greer's friends get annoyed by his focusing on the trauma of it, when nobody knows the pain of getting rejected by a public figure — twice — and the fallout that has resulted from it.

Russell embodies that comic/meme of the little guy who puts a stick in his bicycle’s wheels and then blames Taylor Swift when he inevitably falls.

Sooooo...

Maybe someday I’ll write a post about Russ’ latest antics. I know he still posts stupid stuff on Facebook, which he later deletes. He shined especially bright at the peak of the BLM movement. He also plead guilty to electronic communications harassment— did you see that conviction coming? Yes, yes you did 😌

Regarding Taylor, I read that Russ knew someone who knew Todrick Hall — and Russ sent him a song and video for Taylor. All he got back was a Cease and Desist letter. But I’d have to do a bit of digging to get the details. I was already so overwhelmed with organising the information I was previously aware of, that I decided to leave the newer stuff for another time. You know, once I’ve had some time to inform myself... as well as a really long shower.

Since I left so much shit out, I’ll be taking questions if you have any. And if you can muster the courage to ask them. I’m weirdly proud of being some kind of Russell encyclopaedia. I might not have much going for me...

There’s no ‘but’ — that was the complete statement.

Before I go, I wanted to add this screenshot. I absolutely love it because it summarises ✨The Russell Experience✨. Russ wants Taylor to know pain, poverty and punishment. But when asked “why?” his answer is just “oh, I was ignored lol”

*none of the screenshots are mine

[rpf-bat]

Underground, Getting Down

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 14. Prompt: “Symphony”. 

You’re a flutist, playing in the New York subway for tips. Gerard watches one of your performances, and decides that his next single, needs a mad flute solo. 

Beneath the streets of New York, the subway station bustled, filled with people. Some moved up the stairs, towards the streets, and others down the steps, towards the trains. Everyone in the crowd was rushing on to their next destination. At the base of the staircase, you stood, playing your flute. 

Your flute case sat propped open on the tiles in front of you. A few bills already lined the inside. A young woman dropped another fiver in, as you played Bach’s ‘Flute Sonata in A Minor’. 

You lifted your face from the instrument for a moment, to call out, “Thank you!” 

The woman had already turned away from you, rushing down the corridor to catch the E train. You shrugged, returning your lips to the flute’s embouchure hole. Even the best buskers, rarely made someone stop in their tracks. The song ended. 

I think I’ll mix it up, you decided, do something more pop for the next song. 

You picked the Bach sheet music up off your stand, placing it back in your bag. Then, you pulled out the sheet music for Jethro Tull’s ‘No Lullaby’.  This one was usually more impressive-sounding, when you had your friend, who played guitar, with you to do the intro. But, he was busy today, at his day job at Starbucks. You would just have to launch right into your solo. 

Your fingers danced over the keys, as the music echoed off the walls of the tunnel. You found your mind wandering, as you played. 

I really thought, when I graduated, that I was gonna play for the New York Philharmonic, you recalled wistfully. But, the auditions for first chair ended up being competitive as hell. Instead of playing high society symphonies, I just play out here, for the commuters and hobos. 

It wasn’t what you had dreamed of - but it was a living. 

As you continued your song, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You glanced up from your songbook, and realized that a man was sitting, eerily still, on the steps. Hurried people were practically tripping over him, but he didn’t move, to get out of their way.  He stayed exactly where he was. He didn’t look homeless, you considered. His face was hidden by thick aviator sunglasses, but his clothes suggested wealth. He was staring at you, with rapt attention, as if your flute, was the only sound in the world. 

You found yourself blushing under his steady gaze, as the song concluded. You lowered your flute-holding arm to your side, and looked at the stranger again, curiously. 

“Bravo!” he cried, clapping, and jumping up. “You were amazing!” 

He walked over, and dropped a handful of bills, into your case. 

Wait, what? All of those are hundreds!, you realized, eyes widening. Who the hell is this guy?

He pulled the sunglasses off his face, shaking his long, dark hair out of his eyes as he did so. Your jaw dropped, when you realized you recognized him. 

“Hi,” he said casually, “my name’s Gerard Way.” 

“I….I know who you are,” you stammered, scarcely believing this was real. Your inner emo kid was screaming. “What are you doing in New York?” 

“Visiting family,” Gerard shrugged. “Well, technically, they live on the Jersey side of the river. But, I always have to stop by Forbidden Planet, when I’m in town.” 

“Oh, you mean the comic shop, on Broadway?” you nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. I….I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Gerard grinned. “I really enjoyed that song, that you just did.” 

“I….uh, really enjoy your music, too,” you said awkwardly. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl.

“I’m actually working on some new music right now,” Gerard revealed. 

“What?” you blinked. “Really? Wasn’t your last album in like…..2014?” 

“Yeah, Hesitant Alien was four years ago, already!” Gerard chuckled. “I think I’m definitely overdue for something new!” 

“Oh, wow,” your heart hammered excitedly. “I can’t wait to hear the new record, when it comes out!”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna do a whole second album,” Gerard confessed. “I think I’m just gonna put a couple singles out, and see how it goes.”

“I….I see,” you mumbled. This was crazy. Why was he telling all this, to a random busker, that he just met? 

“I wanted to thank you,  Y/N,” Gerard went on. “There’s this song I’ve been working on, for a couple months now. it’s just not sounding right to me, quite yet. You helped me realize what it’s missing.”

“And, what is that?” you wondered, still feeling bewildered. 

“A flute solo,” Gerard grinned. 

“Huh?” you gasped. “Who uses flute music, in a rock n roll song? I mean, besides Jethro Tull?” 

“I love Jethro Tull,” Gerard laughed. “But, for real, it’s not that weird. Billy Corgan had some flutes on ‘Drum + Fife’, on the album Monuments To An Elegy.”

“Oh, true,” you remembered. “Didn’t that drop in 2014, too?” 

“Yeah, I actually got to open for him, on that tour!” Gerard said excitedly. “That was when I decided that I wanted to bring a flute into one of my own songs, someday.” 

“Wow,” you realized, “You’re serious about this.” 

“I am,” Gerard said, looking you in the eyes. “But….can we talk about this somewhere else? I’m worried if I stay in one place much longer, somebody is gonna spot me, and start asking for pictures.” 

“Oh, uh, sure!” you nodded. 

“I think if we go up to the street level, there’s a coffee shop, like, right outside,” Gerard suggested. 

“You’re…..asking me to get a cup of coffee with you?” you grasped. Was this a date?

“Yeah,” Gerard said, turning red, as he awkwardly combed his fingers through his hair. “Is, uh, is that okay with you?”

“......Absolutely,” you smiled. “Just let me put my flute away!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard had insisted on carrying your flute case for you, despite the short walk. He was such a gentleman. You did not, however, allow him to buy your cup of coffee for you. He’d already given you that absurd tip, when he first strolled over to your busking spot. 

You stared at him across the table, as he sipped his latte. This still felt entirely unreal. 

“So, the song I’m working on,” Gerard explained, “It’s called ‘Getting Down The Germs.’”

“...Germs?” you repeated, confused. 

“The lyrics are still a work in progress,” Gerard admitted. He dug into the pocket of his green coat, and pulled out a small, tattered-looking notebook. He opened it to a page near the back, and pushed it towards you. “This is what I have so far.”

You took the book gingerly, feeling as if you’d been handed a holy text. The words on the page, were written in a surprisingly untidy scrawl:

It's never the same and the nights always glow

There's nothing to see and nowhere to go

It's easy to say you're happier when you're disturbed

The green lights in your head

Getting down the germs

I'm lazy and tame and the chimes always blow

A glimmering sound on the breeze when you go

It's never a shame and I've learned to live with the worms

Underground

Getting down the germs

“That sounds really good so far,” you complimented. “I’m guessing that’s supposed to be the chorus?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “I usually write the choruses first. The verses, I’m still figuring out.” 

“Makes sense,” you replied, as you sipped your drink. “What about the melody?” 

“Oh, the melody’s pretty much completely done,” Gerard clarified. “But….I don’t know. There’s this bridge that comes before the second verse. I originally planned for that to be a guitar solo, but it just doesn’t sound right.”

“You think the solo would sound better, played on a flute?” you surmised. 

“Yeah, exactly!” Gerard said enthusiastically. You wondered if the caffeine was getting to him. 

“....Do you even know how to play the flute?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “But, you do.”

“....What are you saying?” you blinked. 

“That’s why I asked you to come up here with me,” Gerard explained. “Y/N…..would you be willing to go into the studio with me, and record a flute solo, for the track?” 

You choked on your drink. 

“Wh….What?” you wheezed, coughing from the coffee that had gone down the wrong way. “A-Are you serious?” 

“....Can you breathe?” Gerard asked, putting a concerned hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, I can breathe,” you managed, trying not to hyperventilate even more.  

“Good,” Gerard smiled, “because I am serious, Y/N. Your flute playing really impressed me. I won’t drag you all the way out to LA, of course. But, if I find a studio space, here in New York, will you work with me?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Oh my god, yes!” 

This wasn’t what you had dreamed of - it was more. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A few days later, you found yourself in a recording studio, in Lower Manhattan. You’d never seen so much professional equipment like this before. You’d always just performed for live audiences.

Can I really do this?, you asked yourself, hit with a wave of uncertainty. 

“Y/N, thank you so much for coming out here, and joining us today,” Gerard greeted you. His smile, somehow instantly put you at ease. 

“This is Doug McKean,” he introduced, indicating a man in the corner. “He’s my producer.” 

“Nice to meet you, Doug,” you said politely, shaking hands. 

“And this is Ian Fowles,” Gerard said, indicating a second guy, with longer hair. “He was my touring guitarist, when I went on the road with Hesitant Alien.” 

“Oh, I remember seeing him, when you guys played Irving Plaza,” you recalled. 

“You were at that little gig we did, in Union Square?” Ian smiled. 

“Yeah, of course I bought a ticket!” you smiled back. “You guys were amazing!” 

“Aw, you really think so?” Gerard reddened, looking flattered. 

“I really do,” you replied. My Chemical Romance had been your favorite band, since your teens. When they had broken up, five years ago, you had been heartbroken. But, you’d found Gerard’s solo work, to be equally amazing - just in a different way. 

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Ian said quietly. “Has Gerard explained to you, what we’re going to be doing today?” 

“Yeah, he said he wants me to do a flute solo for you guys,” you said, almost not believing your own words. 

“Let’s start from the beginning of the song,” Doug directed. “Ian, can you take us from the top, please? I know we got a great take of your part yesterday, but I feel like we can still do better.” 

“Definitely,” Ian agreed. He shrugged his guitar strap over his head, and stepped into the recording booth. You listened intently, as he played the opening notes. The tune was definitely different from anything MCR had done. But, it didn’t sound quite like Hesitant Alien, either. You were intrigued by the new musical direction that Gerard seemed to be heading in. 

“Alright, cut,” Doug called, pressing a button, to stop recording. “Ian, that was good. Gerard, it’s your turn to get in there. I want to hear that verse you were working on the other day.”

“Alright,” Gerard nodded. You watched him put his headphones over his ears, and timidly approach the microphone. A blush crept into his cheeks. Did it make him nervous, to have you, as an audience? 

“The answer’s always no,” Gerard sang, “to questions of a private nature…...the lights are always low, in settings of a conversation…..” 

He seemed to grow more confident, as the song continued. By the time he got to the chorus, he was belting it out. He sounded incredible. 

“....How was that?” he asked finally. 

“Amazing,” you breathed. 

Gerard’s cheeks reddened at your compliment. He stayed quiet, as he watched Doug take the vocal track, and mix it with Ian’s guitar playing. He played back the clip, of the two spliced together. The parts formed an even more impressive whole. 

“Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn,” Doug commanded. “Show us what you can do.” 

You gulped. You weren’t sure that you could do anything, that was on the same level, as what you just heard. 

“You can do it,” Gerard encouraged. “You played an amazing solo, in front of a whole station worth of people yesterday. Playing for three dudes like us, should be nothing.” 

That’s different, you thought to yourself. I don’t have a huge crush on everyone in the station.

“Here’s the sheet music,” Ian said, handing you a piece of paper. “I really like what Gerard’s composed here. But, I think he’s right. It’s going to sound better on your instrument, than mine.”

You took the sheet, and grabbed the flute case, out of your backpack. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the booth. Your fingers trembled on the middle joint of the flute. You glanced up at Gerard, who was sitting on the other side, of the pane of glass. 

He gave you a friendly smile, and a dorky-looking thumbs-up. You chuckled, your nerves dissipating. 

Alright, you told yourself. I got this. You brought your lips to the head joint, and began to play. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“I don’t know,” you said, as you stepped back out of the booth. “Do you think that was okay?”

“That was incredible,” Gerard gushed, pulling you into an impulsive hug. His arms were so soft and warm. 

“Like, wow, what are you?” Ian gaped. “The secret lovechild of Ian Anderson, or something?” 

“Ha, I wish,” you laughed. “I’m just your average band kid.” 

“I wouldn’t call that average,” Gerard insisted, staring into your eyes, as he still held you close. “I was right….the flute just fits perfectly in with the song. And you’re the perfect person to play it.”

“Y/N, I can show you what the guitar and the flute will sound like together,” Doug offered, “If you could, uh, let go of her for a moment, Gee.”

“O-oh, right,” Gerard stammered, releasing you quickly. You blushed, and turned away. 

Doug began to play the edited-together track for you. You couldn’t believe it - your flute, Ian’s guitar, and Gerard’s vocals, blended together, into something incredibly beautiful. 

“I wasn’t sure if the flute was going to go well, with your style of music,” you confessed. “My background is the symphony orchestra. Most of the time, you only really see the flute, used in classical music, like that. I wasn’t sure if you could make it sound rock n’ roll. But...it works! Somehow.” 

“It does,” Gerard agreed. “Y/N…..I’m so, so glad that I met you.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. It made your heart pound, for reasons you couldn’t articulate. 

“Y/N,” Doug said, bringing you back to reality, “that first take was great, but I’d like you to try it again for me, please.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. “I’ll give it as many takes as it needs.” 

“I feel like we could all use some coffee first, though,” Ian decided. “Doug? You want to run down the street with  me, to get it?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s our turn, since Gerard ran and got the last round,” Doug agreed. “Y/N - what can we get you?”

“Oh, just a vanilla latte, I guess,” you decided. 

“Coming right up,” Ian smiled. “We’ll be right back.” 

The guitarist and producer got up and left. Your pulse quickened again, as you realized, that you were now alone in the room with Gerard. It felt different, than it had at the station, or the coffeeshop. Both of those times, there were plenty of other people around. But now…..?

“It’s just you and me,” Gerard said softly. He was still staring at you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you said nervously. “I guess we got quite a day ahead of us, huh?”

“Yup,” Gerard said awkwardly. “Doug’s not gonna let you leave, until you get your part just right.” 

“.....Gerard,” you asked, “why did you pick me for this job? You could have gotten anyone to play flute for you. I’m nobody.” 

“I told you, your performance got my attention,” Gerard reminded you. “I was just passing through the station, minding my own business. But, when I heard the sound of your flute…..I stopped still. I was like, oh my god, this is the sound that I’ve been looking for.” 

“Was it really that great?” you asked, feeling unsure of yourself. 

“Yes!” Gerard insisted. “Y/N, I swear to god, it was like I was hypnotized. By that incredible sound….and by the beauty, of the person making it……” 

“Beauty?” you repeated, your face going hot. Did he mean…..?

“I won’t lie to you,” Gerard said softly. “The moment I laid eyes on you, in that subway tunnel, I was so attracted to you.” 

“You think I’m attractive?” you realized, eyes going wide. 

“Yes,” Gerard whispered, looking you up and down, with evident desire. “I’m sorry…..you probably think I’m just a creepy, older dude….” 

“You’re not creepy!” you shook your head. “Gerard, I’ve always thought that you were extremely good-looking.” 

“You’re…..attracted to me, too?” Gerard put two and two together. 

You weren’t sure which of you took a step towards the other first, but, before you knew it, you were in his arms. He kissed you gently, but your body quickly responded to him, and the kiss rapidly turned more passionate.

He pressed you against the studio wall, his hands trailing down your body, as the kiss continued. 

“.....G-Gerard,” you gasped. “The others could walk back in, at any minute.” 

“If they interrupt us,” Gerard said, his voice husky, “we could always continue this, at my hotel, after the recording session is over.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Gerard panted, as your lips found his neck. “Oh, fuck, yeah…..I got a room at a five star hotel in Times Square, that I would love to show you.”

“When do you have to go back to LA?” you asked, gasping for breath, as he kissed you again. 

“I’m supposed to go home on Saturday,” Gerard confessed. “But, if you keep kissing me like that….I might just miss the flight.”