mrboogie365

[rowanisawriter]

so tomorrow i’m going to a shut up and write group thingy and tbh i’m very nervous because i’ve never met another writer irl before except for once in middle school… like i’m probably just going to sit around and use the quiet cafe atmosphere to push out some words but the idea of being Perceived… by other writers… who will see my face and look at my face while asking me what i write and i will talk about my original work, my hold on which is tenuous at best… i’m Scared..

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Holy CRAP the UN Cybercrime Treaty is a nightmare

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If there's one thing I learned from all my years as an NGO delegate to UN specialized agencies, it's that UN treaties are dangerous, liable to capture by unholy alliances of authoritarian states and rapacious global capitalists.

Most of my UN work was on copyright and "paracopyright," and my track record was 2:0; I helped kill a terrible treaty (the WIPO Broadcast Treaty) and helped pass a great one (the Marrakesh Treaty on the rights of people with disabilities to access copyrighted works):

https://www.wipo.int/treaties/en/ip/marrakesh/

It's been many years since I had to shave and stuff myself into a suit and tie and go to Geneva, and I don't miss it – and thankfully, I have colleagues who do that work, better than I ever did. Yesterday, I heard from one such EFF colleague, Katitza Rodriguez, about the Cybercrime Treaty, which is about to pass, and which is, to put it mildly, terrifying:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/07/un-cybercrime-draft-convention-dangerously-expands-state-surveillance-powers

Look, cybercrime is a real thing, from pig butchering to ransomware, and there's real, global harms that can be attributed to it. Cybercrime is transnational, making it hard for cops in any one jurisdiction to handle it. So there's a reason to think about formal international standards for fighting cybercrime.

But that's not what's in the Cybercrime Treaty.

Here's a quick sketch of the significant defects in the Cybercrime Treaty.

The treaty has an extremely loose definition of cybercrime, and that looseness is deliberate. In authoritarian states like China and Russia (whose delegations are the driving force behind this treaty), "cybercrime" has come to mean "anything the government disfavors, if you do it with a computer." "Cybercrime" can mean online criticism of the government, or professions of religious belief, or material supporting LGBTQ rights.

Nations that sign up to the Cybercrime Treaty will be obliged to help other nations fight "cybercrime" – however those nations define it. They'll be required to provide surveillance data – for example, by forcing online services within their borders to cough up their users' private data, or even to pressure employees to install back-doors in their systems for ongoing monitoring.

These obligations to aid in surveillance are mandatory, but much of the Cybercrime Treaty is optional. What's optional? The human rights safeguards. Member states "should" or "may" create standards for legality, necessity, proportionality, non-discrimination, and legitimate purpose. But even if they do, the treaty can oblige them to assist in surveillance orders that originate with other states that decided not to create these standards.

When that happens, the citizens of the affected states may never find out about it. There are eight articles in the treaty that establish obligations for indefinite secrecy regarding surveillance undertaken on behalf of other signatories. That means that your government may be asked to spy on you and the people you love, they may order employees of tech companies to backdoor your account and devices, and that fact will remain secret forever. Forget challenging these sneak-and-peek orders in court – you won't even know about them:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/un-cybercrime-draft-convention-blank-check-unchecked-surveillance-abuses

Now here's the kicker: while this treaty creates broad powers to fight things governments dislike, simply by branding them "cybercrime," it actually undermines the fight against cybercrime itself. Most cybercrime involves exploiting security defects in devices and services – think of ransomware attacks – and the Cybercrime Treaty endangers the security researchers who point out these defects, creating grave criminal liability for the people we rely on to warn us when the tech vendors we rely upon have put us at risk.

This is the granddaddy of tech free speech fights. Since the paper tape days, researchers who discovered defects in critical systems have been intimidated, threatened, sued and even imprisoned for blowing the whistle. Tech giants insist that they should have a veto over who can publish true facts about the defects in their products, and dress up this demand as concern over security. "If you tell bad guys about the mistakes we made, they will exploit those bugs and harm our users. You should tell us about those bugs, sure, but only we can decide when it's the right time for our users and customers to find out about them."

When it comes to warnings about the defects in their own products, corporations have an irreconcilable conflict of interest. Time and again, we've seen corporations rationalize their way into suppressing or ignoring bug reports. Sometimes, they simply delay the warning until they've concluded a merger or secured a board vote on executive compensation.

Sometimes, they decide that a bug is really a feature – like when Facebook decided not to do anything about the fact that anyone could enumerate the full membership of any Facebook group (including, for example, members of a support group for people with cancer). This group enumeration bug was actually a part of the company's advertising targeting system, so they decided to let it stand, rather than re-engineer their surveillance advertising business.

The idea that users are safer when bugs are kept secret is called "security through obscurity" and no one believes in it – except corporate executives. As Bruce Schneier says, "Anyone can design a system that is so secure that they themselves can't break it. That doesn't mean it's secure – it just means that it's secure against people stupider than the system's designer":

The history of massive, brutal cybersecurity breaches is an unbroken string of heartbreakingly naive confidence in security through obscurity:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

But despite this, the idea that some bugs should be kept secret and allowed to fester has powerful champions: a public-private partnership of corporate execs, government spy agencies and cyber-arms dealers. Agencies like the NSA and CIA have huge teams toiling away to discover defects in widely used products. These defects put the populations of their home countries in grave danger, but rather than reporting them, the spy agencies hoard these defects.

The spy agencies have an official doctrine defending this reckless practice: they call it "NOBUS," which stands for "No One But Us." As in: "No one but us is smart enough to find these bugs, so we can keep them secret and use them attack our adversaries, without worrying about those adversaries using them to attack the people we are sworn to protect."

NOBUS is empirically wrong. In the 2010s, we saw a string of leaked NSA and CIA cyberweapons. One of these, "Eternalblue" was incorporated into off-the-shelf ransomware, leading to the ransomware epidemic that rages even today. You can thank the NSA's decision to hoard – rather than disclose and patch – the Eternalblue exploit for the ransoming of cities like Baltimore, hospitals up and down the country, and an oil pipeline:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/EternalBlue

The leak of these cyberweapons didn't just provide raw material for the world's cybercriminals, it also provided data for researchers. A study of CIA and NSA NOBUS defects found that there was a one-in-five chance of a bug that had been hoarded by a spy agency being independently discovered by a criminal, weaponized, and released into the wild.

Not every government has the wherewithal to staff its own defect-mining operation, but that's where the private sector steps in. Cyber-arms dealers like the NSO Group find or buy security defects in widely used products and services and turn them into products – military-grade cyberweapons that are used to attack human rights groups, opposition figures, and journalists:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/breaking-the-news/#kingdom

A good Cybercrime Treaty would recognize the perverse incentives that create the coalition to keep us from knowing which products we can trust and which ones we should avoid. It would shut down companies like the NSO Group, ban spy agencies from hoarding defects, and establish an absolute defense for security researchers who reveal true facts about defects.

Instead, the Cybercrime Treaty creates new obligations on signatories to help other countries' cops and courts silence and punish security researchers who make these true disclosures, ensuring that spies and criminals will know which products aren't safe to use, but we won't (until it's too late):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/if-not-amended-states-must-reject-flawed-draft-un-cybercrime-convention

A Cybercrime Treaty is a good idea, and even this Cybercrime Treaty could be salvaged. The member-states have it in their power to accept proposed revisions that would protect human rights and security researchers, narrow the definition of "cybercrime," and mandate transparency. They could establish member states' powers to refuse illegitimate requests from other countries:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/media-briefing-eff-partners-warn-un-member-states-are-poised-approve-dangerou

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/23/expanded-spying-powers/#in-russia-crime-cybers-you

Image: EFF https://www.eff.org/files/banner_library/cybercrime-2024-2b.jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

[kazekagevi]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE PART TWO

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k 

Tags: dark themes, indirect mention of r*pe, suicide attempt, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam, reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You, a competent researcher and writer, awoke from cryosleep a year ago, only to be imprisoned by the RDA—they intended to force you and many other women into a selective breeding program to kickstart human repopulation. However, you, the other prisoners, and allied wardens formed an escape plan; it was carried out, but you are the lone survivor. 

A/N and Disclaimer: This is my first x reader fic! This is also my first fic on Tumblr in years! I've been reading a lot of ATWOW fics and thought I would write my own. I am also challenging myself to write in present tense (I'm a past tense girly), so please forgive any grammatical errors. Hope you enjoy <3

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

The tracking device beneath your skin feels like a ticking time bomb—although you’re certain it doesn’t have the power to detonate, should the RDA find your location before the prison sector’s power unit comes back online, it could still bring mass destruction to this region of the extrasolar moon. As if the RDA hasn't done enough of that already. 

As you walk barefoot through the unfamiliar forest of Pandora, you wonder if this is heaven. Surely, you must have died along the way—you survived the initial jailbreak, then the evasion at dawn, and managed to remain mostly unscathed from the chopper accident. On Earth, you’d feel compelled to buy a lottery ticket. The thought alone makes you chuckle, and your mask fogs in response. Your laughs, albeit quiet, turn maniacal. Maybe you hit your head hastily fleeing the first bunker, or got thwacked by metal shrapnel in the crash. 

If you live, the escape will count as a partial success. Living would make you a hero; but as darkness falls on this foreign planet, you silently wish you had become a martyr like the others instead. 

You’re completely defenseless. You have nothing more than your respirator mask that won’t stop fogging due to your panicked breaths, and the clothes on your back. You adorn an oversized jacket that you stole from the valiantly deceased helo pilot, and your prison uniform—it’s nothing more than a flimsy, green hospital gown. 

You should know more about this place. You were chosen among an elite class of writers to research alien life on Pandora. You loved traveling and writing about new cultures—studying language, customs, and history. It was your pride and joy, your life’s work. Yet, the nightmare started the day you woke from cryosleep and you were forced into a tiny cell with three other women. In your year of imprisonment, two of them had already been selected into the breeding program, while you and the other, Claudia, were awaiting that same fate. 

You almost slip on a patch of sludge and break your fall by grabbing a tree stump. 

You do know, however, that this hostile environment will kill you if you don’t find the tribe you’re searching for. Certainly, your luck will run out soon. 

So, you stop laughing, blink away the tears in your eyes, and regain your focus. You’d slap your own cheeks if you could, but your mask renders the act impossible. You have to survive, or else the girls’ and allied wardens’ deaths will be meaningless. 

As you continue on your path, the mud starts to dampen, coating the soles of your feet. You presume this is from a recent rainstorm, or perhaps you’re nearing a water source. You swallow hard—inevitably, you’re thirsty. But if breathing Pandora’s air will kill you, the water will likely do the same.

As you carefully wade through the soppy terrain, you repeat the same phrases under your breath like a prayer or mantra. Even if you suffered amnesia and lost all your memories like a slate wiped clean, you could suffice to lose it all, except a few words which you memorized in Na’vi. 

Using these phrases would determine if you lived or died, assuming you weren’t slain with an arrow on sight: after introducing yourself in the language, you must tell them you seek asylum with the Omatikaya clan at High Camp and Max knows you’re coming. Lastly, you needed to say there is a tracking device under my skin, please cut it out. 

You recite these phrases again, except this time you mess up the grammatical structure on the last part. You winge, correct yourself, and continue on your course.

The planet begins to dim as time passes. As you avoid tripping over tree roots and crushing delicate flowers, you notice Pandora’s subtle glow. The bioluminescent spots that dot the terrain look like freckles on skin. It’s the first time you’re seeing the real thing up close, instead of in a tiny photograph. You’re as enamored as you are terrified. 

Your feet hurt and your shins ache when night fully settles. You’ve been traveling by foot for hours. Imprisonment and preparation for forced motherhood meant there was little opportunity for exercise in the compound. Your body isn’t used to lifting heavy things or globetrotting long distances. 

As you use the last of your energy reserves to think—to consider stopping in a safe area for a break—a tremendous force stops you first. 

This is it, you think. You know you're going to die. 

The force is a Na’vi, whom you cannot see. From their position behind you, an arm wraps around your abdomen, lifting your smaller body off the ground like a doll. The Na’vi lodges their elbow into your stomach, knocking the wind out of you, all so they can wrap their large blue hand around your small, human neck. Despite the panic, you notice how controlled the Na’vi’s grip is—just enough to hold you still without choking you. It feels like a strange paralysis. Your oxygen mask fogs as you pant in distress. 

“Why I should not kill you?” The Na’vi asks in broken English. The timbre of the voice leads you to believe this one is male. 

Say the thing! your mind reels. You resist the urge to flail your limbs. The slightest movements make the Na’vi tighten his grip—at this very moment, you notice his other hand holds a dagger to your throat. The space between your skin and the blade is miniscule, as is your proximity to certain death. 

So you do it, you say the thing. Except, it comes out all wrong:

“My… My name is Asylum at High Camp,” you stammer in Pandora’s native language. 

The Na’vi makes a sound of confusion. You won’t know until later, but Neteyam thinks your pronunciation is mechanical, unpleasant, and downright horrible. 

Your chest heaves wildly and your heart thrums in your chest like a drum. The realization hits like a truck. “Wait… No, that’s not right,” you say in English. Your jagged breaths aren’t allowing oxygen to circulate in the mask properly—the same goes for your brain. 

The Na’vi growls against your ear. You’re running out of time. You gather the last of your composure. 

You tell him your name, properly this time, then continue with your monologue. “I-I seek asylum at High Camp, Max knows I’m coming,” you sputter like a dying engine. 

The Na’vi makes another sound of confusion, yet still seems dissatisfied. He gently presses the tip of the knife to your throat. 

“No! Please!” you beg. Your hands instinctively wrap around his glowing-freckled forearm, but you don’t tug. 

The Na’vi freezes. You can’t see it, but something is happening. 

Neteyam’s hairless brows furrow when a woodsprite lands on the edge of the blade he inherited from his maternal grandfather. The woodsprite lingers there, teetering on the edge. Then, it slots itself into the small space between your skin and his knife. You can’t help but cringe at the slight tickle of its tendrils against your collarbone. 

“Eywa,” Neteyam whispers to himself. His voice is so quiet that you cannot hear. 

The woodsprite travels over your clavicle and settles against the skin just below it. The woodsprite glows with vibrance. The light winks at Neteyam. He knows it's a sign. The tip of his knife drags gently against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. The woodsprite flutters away once his knife is over the spot where the tracker sits beneath the surface. His lips part—the area feels hard when he knows it shouldn’t be. 

Your eyes widen. You remember your lines, like an amateur actor taking the stage for the first time. 

“There’s a tracker!” you shout in English. Your shrill voice catches even Neteyam—the future Olo'eyktan—off guard. 

“A tracker?” Neteyam retorts, his voice laced with aggression and uncertainty. He doesn’t recognize that word, but your tone implies grave danger. 

You nod. “There is a tracking device under my skin,” you say in the Na’vi’s native tongue. “Please, cut it out!”

Fright flashes upon Neteyam’s face. Mentally, he’s reeling—were you sent here as bait from the sky demons? Is he falling into another one of their traps? Images of the tracker the Sky People lodged into the tulkun’s fin on the reefs of Awa'atlu flood his mind. His heart feels heavy when he thinks of Ro'a and her cub. 

Physically, however, Neteyam does as he’s told. He would never willingly take orders from Sky People, but he knows in this instance, it’s the only way to protect himself, his family, and his clan. He must abide by these orders for the greater good. 

Neteyam moves swiftly as he pins you against the nearest tree. He holds you there by your neck. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then he zeros in on the neckline of your hospital gown. He uses his thumb to feel for the tracking device, raises his knife, and cuts. 

Pupils blown wide, you study his face in the moment of reprieve before he slashes at your skin. His eyes are bright yellow, like tiny suns or egg yolks. His lips are full, and as he grimaces, he reveals a shiny set of white teeth. His ears point backwards: he’s agitated. His tail swishes from side to side. He wears his hair in braids. Around his neck, he adorns an ornamental choker necklace. 

You howl through your teeth. Your jaw is clenched. The pain is unbearable, but at the same time, it’s the best kind you’ve ever felt. Even if this Na’vi should kill you right after, at least in your last moments, you’ll feel free. 

Blood pools around his knife as he cuts through the first layer of skin. He tries to ignore your cries as he presses his long fingertips into the open wound. He pulls when he feels a small piece of plastic; with a bit of effort, he dislodges it from your body. 

You sigh in relief when the Na’vi removes it, but the pain lingers—it worsens when you press your fingertips against the wound to stop the bleeding. Your eyelids are heavy. You feel lightheaded. 

The Na’vi removes his grip from your neck, only so he can destroy the tracker. Neteyam notes that trackers he’s encountered in the past tend to beep, light up, or some combination of both—this one has neither of those attributes. The uncomfortable knots in Neteyam’s stomach begin to untie, but he cannot give up his resolve. His work is unfinished. 

He presses the tracker against the tree bark, grunts, and he hacks away with his weapon.

Even as you’re bleeding—potentially to death—you continue to study the Na’vi’s physique and stature. This one in particular is muscular and athletic, and presumably taller than average. The way his muscles move under his blue skin is enchanting, and the way his freckles glow, you might as well be looking up at the night sky. You’re certain this will be your last chance to witness life on Pandora, or life at all—might as well bask in it. 

The tracker is chopped and diced into small pieces, like how you used to cut vegetables back on Earth. The Na’vi looks pleased with his work. Then, his hairless brows furrow again, he spits into his hand, and throws the pieces as far as he can into the Pandoran wilderness. He hisses. You think it’s some kind of power move, but you’re not quite sure, and you definitely don’t have the gall to ask. 

Neteyam stands still for a moment, bloodied hands on his hips. He has yet to face the elephant in the room—or in this circumstance, the tawtute against the tree. 

That blood is only yours. Your eyes roll into the back of your head; you see stars upon realizing just how much you’ve lost. 

---

You wake to the sounds of beeps and whirrs.

All is quiet. You’re in a small room with white walls. The lights are dimmed. Your breaths are slow and relaxed—but as the cogs start to turn, you begin to question if you’re safe or not. 

Pain shoots through your shoulder like a strike of lightning as you sit up in the cot you’ve been sleeping in. You wince loudly, and the noise echoes. 

Your mind briefly recalls the events of the last twenty-four hours, leading up to the encounter with the Na’vi. Evidently, it wasn’t a dream or figment of your highly active imagination. 

Your clavicle has been wrapped in a thick bandage. When you pull back the thin blanket that covers the rest of you, you realize the dirt and grime that covered your feet and legs has been washed away. 

You sigh in relief. You think you’re safe, until you discover that your old hospital gown has been replaced with a brand new albeit identical one—one with the Resource Development Administration’s logo on the tag. 

Your heart feels heavy. 

The escape was unsuccessful. The mission failed.

It makes sense now, as your vision swims through the confined space. This must be it—this must be where they took Seraphina, and Leah, and Clover. This must be where the girls who get picked go. Where they are prepared. Where they are taken. 

You sit there for a few moments, then begin to hyperventilate. The Na’vi male must have left you there to die, and the RDA must have tracked you down anyway. Given that they lost all of their prisoners in the jailbreak, it made sense. They would do anything to get you back. 

You shatter like glass.

Tears prick your bloodshot eyes like thorns. You pluck each wire from your arm like guitar strings, separating yourself from any machines. They continue to beep, but at a different pace, like a sounding alarm. 

You search the room for an escape. You spot a pitcher and sponge on the counter adjacent to the bed. 

In the laboratory across from the infirmary room, Max looks up from his microscope when he hears a loud crash. He jumps up from his swivel chair and dashes across the hall, opening the infirmary door. 

Max has no choice but to undertake—you have a large shard of glass in your hand, and you use all the force in your tired body to resist. He grimaces as you continue to aim for a critical slice on your opposite wrist. His words fail to soothe. 

“Norm!” the unfamiliar man calls. “We’ve got a cutter!” 

Footsteps thump down the hall, then another man enters. “Holy shit,” he says. “What the hell is going on?!”

“I don’t know!” Max shouts back. 

Norm, in his human form, hops over the pile of broken glass, and crouches to meet your bleary, downcast eyes. “Hey… Hey! Stop! You’re safe here!”

You can’t stop the tears from coming. You shake your head and continue to thrash in Max’s arms. “To hell with you RDA fucks!” you spit at him. 

Norm’s eyes fall shut when a glob of saliva hits his left cheek. He counts to three before responding. “We’re not with them!” He grabs your wrists. “Calm down! You’re at High Camp!”

You freeze. You choke on a loud sob. “What?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m Norm,” the one crouching before you says. “That guy, behind you, he’s Max. We’re scientists allied with the Na’vi. This is the stronghold. You’re in our laboratory.” 

You sniffle. The room goes silent. “But this gown?” you croak, showing him the logo.

Norm sighs. “We loot supplies from RDA… That’s all.” 

“Take a deep breath,” says Max. You do as you're told, and your muscles relax. Max docks the glass shard from your hand and eases his grip. Norm nods in approval. “One more,” Max adds. Inhale. Exhale. “You’re alright now.” 

Inevitably, you start crying again. But this time, your tears are joyous. The tension breaks like ice—it’s melting. You’re awash in relief you thought would never come. It’s euphoric. It’s blissful. You’re free. 

A year of suffering and imprisonment is released in your loud sobs. Max catches you before you can fall to your knees on the remnants of the broken pitcher. Neither of them know what to say, so they say nothing. 

Norm, the one on the floor, wipes his cheek with the collar of his shirt. Then he reaches into one of the infirmary cabinets, procuring a dust pan and small sweeper. He does his best to clean the porcelain shards quickly and quietly. “Get her an Ativan,” he mumbles to Max on his way to the disposal bin. Max swallows his nerves. 

---

You’re moved into another room in the facility after your incident in the infirmary. When you come to, you feel slightly embarrassed. You didn’t even check to see if the door of that room was unlocked, which it was. 

“I’m sorry about your pitcher,” you tell Max as he returns from the linen closet with the blankets you asked for. 

Max chuckles. He wants to say he’s more than sorry about all that’s happened to you. He was aiding and abetting the lead warden—the one who came up with the masterplan. “Don’t worry about it. That pitcher meant nothing to me,” he assures. 

You crack a crooked, uneasy smile. The Ativan is starting to take its effect. Max smiles back.

You feel grateful. The scientists here have been nothing but kind and patient. 

You can’t help but also feel grateful to the Na’vi male who presumably saved your life. You don’t know where he is, how to find him, or if you’ll see him again, but you feel indebted. You want to ask Max how you can show your gratitude, but that will have to wait. 

“Thank you,” you say. “For everything.” 

Max nods with a crestfallen smile. “If you need anything else, I’ll be around in the lab all day. Norm will be spending some time as his Avatar, so he won’t be around until later,” he says. “You were out for two entire days, I’m sure you’re hungry. Feel free to have anything in the walk-in or pantry. We don’t always have meals together as a crew, but tonight we’ll have dinner together,” Max explains. 

You’re left alone once Max is sure you’re settled and calm, and won’t break the vase on the coffee table that he does care about. 

---

A/N: Feel free to leave any and all feedback on this chapter! Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciate. In part two, Norm and Max will discuss your arrival with our king, Jake Sully. <3

NEXT CHAPTER: PART TWO

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ who are we?

vampire series | shuri udaku | part 2

Pairing - vampire!shuri x black fem!reader

Word Count - 19.4k (listen…either grab your popcorn or keep scrolling lol)

Contains - smut (18+), fingering, cunnilingus, clit play, overstimulation, choking/breathplay, biting, edging, strap-on sex, blood drinking, descriptions of blood, homophobia, angst, fluff, Shuri being a hot vampire asshole

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - As the words fell from your lips, a wave of warmth surged through Shuri’s undead heart and she swears she felt it beat for a second. Each word and syllable echoed through her vampire mind, a mind that knew loneliness and despair like no other but in came you, the light at the end of the tunnel and she swears she could die from how much she loved you. "Turn me," you repeated one last time, your voice carrying a soft insistence rather than a question. You caught a fleeting change in the color of Shuri's eyes, though she quickly masked it but you definitely noticed the subtle shift.

Tags - @inmyheadimobsessed @amplifiedmoan @vampzxi @heejayy @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @shuriszn @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @pocketsizedpanther @gardenof-venus @tiii-iiiiii @ihearttish @playhousedistee @somethingcleaverandwhitty @niyahwrites @tishsrealwife @oceean @sookiesookie @cafehyunji @ventingfanfics @marsology @desswright29 @sweetalittleselfish-honey @kisskourt @dayedreamm @mcqueeferson @dejaonline (comment if you want to be tagged in future fics, 18+ only)

Writers Note: I’m so so sorry, this took so long, but I wanted it to be perfect and I had so many periods of being unmotivated, I didn’t want to force myself to write when I wasn’t feeling it. But thank you so so much to everyone that stuck around and was patient with me, I’m sure all the sneak peeks and shit were frustrating but we’re here! Grab your popcorn and enjoy my loves :) ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Part 1 - who are you?

November 23rd, 2411, New York (continued…)

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ You were at a genuine loss for words, and it appeared she felt the same way. It had been quite a while since the last time you spoke with her, and even for a vampire, it truly felt like a long time ago. You broke the silence with the first thing that came to mind; the simplest way to ease back into the dialogue and it was a question you truly wanted to know the answer to.

“How…how have you been? Where have you been?” Your voice shook with the vibrations of sheer astonishment, still attempting to comprehend the sight of her gracefully seated before you.

"I've been... well. You know, just wandering the world, experiencing new things. Nothing out of the ordinary I suppose," she responded, and you couldn't ignore the subtle reduction in her once thick accent. It wasn't a dramatic change, probably not noticeable to human ears, but your keen senses detected it. How could you ever forget the voice that once made your own heartbeat falter?

“Your voice…”

She raised an eyebrow. “What about my voice?”

“You sound…different. Your accent…it isn’t as thick as it used to be.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I just…it just caught me off guard is all.”

"Hmmm," she hummed curiously. "But your voice hasn't changed. You still got that annoying whiny voice," she teased with a smirk, and it was the most familiar you had felt with her so far. That confident grin paired with the sarcastic comment, your undead heart could almost swell at how it made your body react. It reminded you of just how much you truly missed her. You playfully flicked her on the shoulder, and it sparked laughter from both of you. Oh, how you missed her laugh. You missed the way her adorable face would scrunch up, and her perfectly aligned teeth would come into view. It made your stomach flutter, reminiscent of the days when you were human, and you couldn't help but get lost in that familiar feeling that you had almost forgotten.

“Well I’m glad not all of you has changed. You’re still a dumbass,” you reply half-jokingly, making you both laugh once more. Once the laughter subsides, you find yourself aching to know more about her and what she’s been up to.

“So…you’re back in New York, I see,” you comment.

“I could say the same about you, s’thandwa.”

“Yeah well…you know…what better place for a vampire than the city that never sleeps, right?”

Briefly, Shuri falls into silence but you can see it in her eyes, the way they glisten that she feels a moment of intimacy.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I remember that, Shuri. I remember a lot.”

Shuri graces you with a crooked smile, highlighting the glossy sheen that coats the irises of her dark eyes. For an instant, a comforting warmth embraces you, as if this is precisely where you were meant to be at this exact point in time.

“And what about you, y/n? How have you been?”

You stop, your body tensing as you contemplate the myriad of responses you could provide. In all honesty, the years without her have been a collision of tides, a shifting wavelength of emotions and experiences that have caused you to both love and resent Shuri. There are moments when you despise her, yet miss her with every fiber of your being. As she poses the question, a fleeting hint of anger threatens to surface, but you inhale the breath you don't need before proceeding to answer.

“I’ve been…everything, I guess? I’ve felt everything, learned everything, and now I’m just lonely. I’ve been so full and empty at the same time…I don’t know, Shuri. It’s just been—”

But Shuri interrupts with the gentle stroke of her thumb on your cheek. Her tender caress seems to fill the void that has haunted you for nearly two centuries. You can't help but feel a pathetic sense of vulnerability as her small touch impacts you, but you permit yourself to experience it fully. You embrace the warmth she imparts with that simple gesture because, in this world of loneliness, few things compare to the solitude of a vampire. You needed this.

“I know, angel. I know. Open up to me. I’m here.” Her voice drew you in like a siren's song like it did so many years ago, guiding you to the profound depths of your emotions as you shed the first tear you had in years. She gently wiped it away with the pad of her thumb before enveloping you in the warmth of her hold, and you surrendered to her care.

“I’m here, y/n. I’m here.”

April 20th, 2022, New York

It had been approximately two months since Shuri unveiled her true nature, two months since you both professed your love, and two months since you posed the unanswered question that you still desperately held in your heart. You were reluctant to press her on the matter, yet it gnawed at you that she hadn't responded. Of course there would be good reasons as to why she never answered you, but what could that reason be?

You were together, entwined in your bed sheets as the moon light shone through your window, passionately embracing her as she kissed you. The depth of your love for her and her reciprocal feelings made you wish for this moment to quite literally be everlasting. The sensation of having her in your arms was something you could never tire of, so you reveled in what she was offering at that very moment.

“You’ve been kissing me for a long time now,” you say with a smile, lying beneath her as her smile mirrors yours. She plants another kiss on your nose before resting her head on your chest, nestling her soft curls into your skin.

“I just love you,” she replies, and she chuckles under her breath at how your heart skips a beat.

“That’s not fair, Shuri.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You laughing at the way my heart reacts to you��I know you got your incredible senses or whatever but you need to quit making fun of me.”

With a quick and fluid vampiric motion, Shuri changes positions, now leaning against the headboard while you straddle her. It almost takes your breath away, even though you should be accustomed to her rapid movements by now.

“Shuriiii, fuck,” you say, trying to keep calm the dizziness.

“Shutup,” she comments, bringing your lips back to hers. “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And you can’t help but scoff a little. “Yeah maybe for now, until I turn old and wrinkly.”

“You humans and age. Being old does not equate to being ugly. Aging is a blessing.”

You let out a pained sigh at her statement, not satisfied with the way she tries to keep you human. “Well that would be easy for you to say. You’re gonna look young and hot forever.”

Shuri raises her eyebrow, one that shows you she has a smart remark to say.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Fuck you!,” you reply, playfully hitting Shuri’s shoulder. “You’re annoying.”

“I wasn’t so annoying when I let you ride me the other night, now was I?”

You felt your cheeks flame up in embarrassment.

“Shuri, oh Shuri! Right there, yes!,” she mocks before she subtly laughs at you. You pick up the pillow beside you and slam it against her.

“Asshole!”

Shuri could not help but laugh at you and as you attempted to hit her once again, her vampire reflexes caught you off guard, halting you before you got to her.

“Show off.”

“Only sometimes.”

Once more, her lips capture you as she draws you closer. This kiss is unhurried and seductive, syncing with the rhythm of your heart as you encircle your arms around her neck, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations she evokes within you.

“You look beautiful by the way…when you work for it.”

“Shuri—”

“Really though. I should make you ride me more often. You’re so sexy like that.”

Her words nearly elicited a moan from you, but you held back, keeping your lips connected to hers as she spoke. You were determined not to give her the full satisfaction.

“You’re a dick.”

“Watch your mouth.”

Slowly, her mouth trailed down to your throat, kissing tenderly against the scar that she left from the first and last time she drank from you.

“This is healing nicely.”

“Yeah…well,” you comment with an attitude you swore was subtle but Shuri knew you better.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong with what?”

“You, y/n. Are you ok? Did I upset you?”

You said nothing.

“I know you have something to say, princess. Spill it.”

You could feel the nerves kindling within you, unable to escape the realization of how apparent it must be to Shuri that something was tugging at your heart.

“How come you don’t drink my blood anymore when we have sex?” Not exactly what you wanted to ask, but it was a question that was burning at you nonetheless. Shuri sighed, peeling her eyes off of you for a moment before proceeding. “Did I do something wrong? Do I taste weird or something??”

“Don’t do that, y/n. It’s not on you. And trust me…you are the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Then what is it, Shuri?? I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t get it. How could you?”

“Baby…please.”

Shuri took a momentary pause, a brief silence hanging in the air, as if collecting her thoughts or contemplating her next words.

“I do not want to lose control again. I almost…I almost didn’t stop the first time. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“But you did stop, Shuri. You did. You need to cut yourself some slack. You did so good and it felt so good for me and I know it felt good for you too. I want you to drink from me again when we fuck.” You couldn't avoid appearing somewhat needy, maybe even a tad bit whiny, but you were unbothered by that. The desire to experience that closeness with her again was paramount, and you were confident she shared the same longing.

“But what if I—”

“Ssshh, Shuri. You won’t hurt me. I just want us to be able to experience each other to the fullest. You’re a vampire and I love that about you. I want you to know that I’m ok and that I want you to drink from me, especially when we have sex.”

Your words made Shuri ache, her pussy clenched at the way you craved her the way she craved you. “Ok but…if I hurt you—”

“Ah ah! You won’t, baby. I trust you.”

Once again, her gentle lips found yours as she moaned into you right before she abruptly detached from you.

“Ok, now what is it you really want to say to me?,” she questions, her deep understanding of you almost angers you, especially when you wish to simply just run away from certain situations.

“What?”

“Do not play stupid with me, s’thandwa. You cannot run away from me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Shuri…please.”

“Uh uh. Speak.”

You sat there on her lap, admiring her beautiful features, the stern yet soft look she gave you now made your stomach churn, wanting to run away from your burning desire but the more you choked it down, the more it became harder to breathe.

“I…why did you never answer me when I asked you to turn me?”

The softness in her face diminished to something harsher, her features melting into seriousness and it frightened you a bit.

“It’s not what you want, y/n.”

You sneer at this, annoyed at how easily she makes that claim for you. “If it wasn’t what I wanted, I wouldn’t have asked you. Now would I?”

Shuri shakes her head at you, a smirk appearing on her face before speaking. “This mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.”

“Please Shuri, can you be serious for one second. I’m not joking.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“Then please just…stop messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Shur—”

Your words were halted by Shuri's finger pressing gently against your lips. Her eyes scanned your entire face before settling back on your plump lips, swollen from your fervent yearning for her.

“Just please…shut up for a second.”

As the all-too-familiar sensation of her lips meeting yours washes over you, you whimper into her, yearning for her and everything she embodies as you welcome her intense kisses.

“Please.” It was all you could say, and you weren’t even sure what it was you were asking for at the moment. What you do know is that your body is aflame, your mouth ablaze as her tongue glides between the curves of your sweet lips.

“I want you forever,” you moaned into her mouth.

"Mhmmm," she responded, surrendering as you trailed your kisses along her angular jawline, deepening them the further you descended down her body. It didn't take much time before she took off her shirt, providing room for your mouth to explore the curves of her abdomen, and your sloppy tongue made Shuri’s pussy clench in anticipation. Slipping your hand beneath her shorts, you ran your fingers through her boxers, chuckling at how damp she already was. All this mess between her thighs as a result of her love for you, her desperate need for you. Your poor baby was absolutely soaking the whole time.

“You’re so wet, Shuri.”

“Fuck,” she moaned, bucking her hips forward for the friction she evidently craved.

“Let me eat your pussy, baby, yeah? I wanna taste that mess between your thighs.”

“Fuck. Yes, y/n. P-please.”

Hearing Shuri trip over her words as you pleasured her was a sound you would never get tired of. It made your body ache with a passion, to hear her voice diminish down to desperate pleas as you pressed your tongue against the swell of her clit, and it didn’t take long for your mouth to find her pussy. Once you ripped off her clothing and admired the shimmer that reflected off her needy cunt, you took your fingers and splayed her folds open and your mouth found her clit like a magnet, wrapping your lips around her sensitive bud before your tongue ran laps around her.

“Oh,” she faintly moaned, a habit she would do as she struggled to contain her moans but you always took it as a challenge, making sure you left her in nothing but trembling shambles as you pleased her. It was easy to see she was trying her best to hold in her moans, the way her throat let out choked whimpers every time you lapped up into her but the minute you spat on her pussy and inserted two fingers inside, you made it a challenge on her to contain the sounds of pleasure that reckoned to rip right through her.

“OH…y-yeah…yes, y/n, just like that. Oh fuck.”

Your lips lifted into a smile, proceeding to suck on her pounding clit as you felt her pussy walls clench around your fingers. She was so needy, so evidently desperate for you and you felt nothing but the same for her.

“You taste so sweet, baby,” you hummed into her. “Cum on my face. I want you to cum on my face.”

“M’kay, okay…fuck, baby.” Her high pitched whimpers made your pussy throb, the sound and smell of her squelching cunt made you fuck into her faster and harder, continuously tapping that spot inside her that you knew would make her lose it.

“Unh!”

You gaze up at her, convinced that the sight alone justifies your yearning for eternal life. The radiance of her sweaty dark skin, the rhythmic contraction of her abs as her pussy closes around you, but her face was the purest of all. Her mouth hung ajar, jaw slack, singing profanities of pleasure, her eyes grappling to connect with yours as she resists the urge to roll them back. In this moment, she is at her most vulnerable, her weakest, and observing her let her guard down is something you desire to witness for the rest of your days. And that was not even the best part; the best part was what was to come next, as you wrapped your lips around her, siphoning her swollen clit and plunging before her body released right onto your face as she came.

“Princess! Oh…UNH!”

And there it was: your favorite part. Observing the transformation in her face as her orgasm resonated through her. The shift in her irises to a deep red hue, her fangs extending to their fullest length, all while she fought to maintain control over her body amid the orgasm wracking through her was truly a sight you alone could cum from.

“UNH!”

“Yes, baby. Keep fucking my face. Give me all of your cum.”

“Oh…fuck.”

Her pussy is hard to let go of, something you latch onto even as she’s whining and shuddering in overstimulation. You lap her up like you're starving, slurping every drop of her warm juice before she grabs your hair and forces you off of her. You whine at this, wanting more but you knew she had reached her limit as you rested your head on her chest, waiting for her body to cease its trembling.

“You c-can’t do shit like that, y-y/n. I could hurt y-you,” she struggles to say and that sight makes you smirk with pride.

“Awww, poor baby. No way you can hurt me when you’re shaking like this. You must’ve cum hard as fuck,” you taunted in faux sympathy.

“Sh-shut up. You forget I could s-snap you,” she tries to snark back, but her struggle to come back down was not helping her tough image. You chuckle before kissing her pouting lips.

“Talk like that all you want, baby, but we both know you love when I put my mouth on you.”

You kiss once more before she decides to take matters into her own hands.

“It’s your turn,” she comments, suddenly pinning you down beneath her and your body is heated, writhing in anticipation before you are inconveniently disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Fuck,” Shuri spits.

“Shit. My mom is calling me.”

Shuri groans in frustration, rolling over beside you dramatically as you answer the phone.

“I know, babe, but she never calls me. Could be an emergency.”

"Fine," Shuri seethes, with an exaggerated eye roll, and you can't help but chuckle at her flair for drama. Shuri tunes into your conversation, vampire ears catching your mother's voice on the other end of the line, and you're well aware of it.

“You were listening, weren’t you?,” you question once you hang up.

“I was.”

“You’re so fucking nosey.”

Shuri just shrugs her shoulders. “Soooo, are you going to go see your parents like she asked?”

“I really don’t want to. I already know what they’re going to talk about and I don’t wanna hear it. But I guess I should go. I honestly haven’t spoken to them since Jon…”

You chose not to finish your sentence but Shuri had no problem doing it for you. “You mean since I ate your asshole of an ex??”

“Yeah…that.”

“You know, I have yet to meet your parents. I’ve known you for just over a year now, and you almost never speak about them.”

“And what is a year to you? Aren’t you like 500?”

“You think you are so funny.”

“You love my jokes,” you tease. “But really, there’s a good reason as to why you haven’t met them. Trust me, you do not wanna meet them.”

“I think it would be good for me to meet them.”

“Yeaaahhh, no. Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so, Shuri. I don’t get along with them. And besides they’re…old school. They would never accept you and me.”

Laughter escapes Shuri, finding you incredibly adorable as you worry about what her meeting them might do.

“Do you forget who I am, princess? If there is anyone who understands old school, it would be me. I would love to meet your parents. I understand you might not have the best relationship with them, but I think it would be good for us to go together. Just tell them you’re inviting a friend, there is no need to tell them that we are in a relationship if you do not want to. You do that on your own time. But I would love to meet them,”

You say nothing.

“Please?”

“You know what? Fuck it! Fine! You can meet them but don’t be surprised when things go left. I’m warning you, Shuri. They’re weird.”

“I’m with you, aren’t I? I can handle weird.”

“Fuck you!,” you say, playfully hitting her once more with the pillow and she lets you this time.

“Wait…how am I supposed to tell them that we gotta meet them at night?”

“Just tell them what I told you. Tell them I’m allergic to the sun.”

You take a moment to ponder the situation before agreeing. She nods quietly and then departs, leaving you with your thoughts, the absence of her presence leaving a lingering sense of contemplation in the air.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sitting at the dining room table, where Shuri had left her food untouched, and your parents bombarded you with questions about your future, felt like your heart could plummet to the depths of your stomach. The atmosphere, filled with nothing but painful memories, was sheer torture. Although you were aware that having Shuri witness the deceitfulness of your parents would be difficult, you were never truly ready for the frustration that would ignite beneath your skin.

“You barely touched your food, Shuri. Is there a problem?,” your mother asked.

“I told you she wasn’t hungry mom, just leave her alone,” you groaned, making no effort to hide your irritation.

“That is no way to talk to your mother, y/n,” your father chimed in with his unwanted comments that always made your blood boil.

“Mhmmm.”

There came an awkward silence, with nothing but the sound of utensils scraping against plates with all eyes unmistakingly fixed on you, including Shuri’s.

“What happened to you?,” your mother asked, pointing to the scar on your neck and you could just sense the subtle smirk on Shuri’s face.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Can ya’ll just say what you wanna say already?,” you slightly burst. “I know why you called me here and I think it would be the best for everyone here if we forget the fucking scar and just get on with it.”

Your parents looked at each other before looking at you, both with a stern look that truly did frighten you a little but you wouldn’t dare let that show.

“Your future, y/n. The passing of Jonathan has left you with no money for your future. He was the plan all along and now he is gone…what do you plan on doing now with yourself??,” your father asked, his demeaning voice and commanding presence reverberating through the room, making the patter of your heart quicken. Your discomfort was evidently apparent to Shuri, and this was made known with the way she discreetly rubbed your thigh beneath the table.

“Dad…please—”

“Listen to your father, y/n. We say this because we care for you.”

“Care for me?? Well that’s a first, isn’t it??,” you snarked beneath your breath, purposely loud enough for their ears to catch.

“You need to find a new partner soon. We think we have someone who is interested…”

The rest of what was said drifted from you, nothing but the sound of static overcame the nonsense that you just knew was pouring out of your parents mouths. You felt nauseous, like the wind had just been knocked out of you and you could pass out at any moment. You just wanted to be free, free from the expectations your parents have put on you since you were a child; free from them using you as a pawn to bring more wealth into their family. You wanted out.

“Y/n,” Shuri chimed in, trying her best to comfort you. “Breathe baby, breathe. I’m right here,” she said not with her mouth but with her mind.

“And who are you, may I ask?,” your father interrupted, his deep voice breaking the calm that was once Shuri’s voice and you were afraid of what his confrontation would escalate into.

“Dad, please don’t start,” you muttered with a feeling of knowing exactly where this was headed. You knew Shuri and you knew your father and neither of them made room for disrespect.

“Hey…it’s ok,” Shuri murmured to you as her gaze softened in reassurance. But the look in her eyes didn’t escape your father’s notice, rather deepening his suspicions. You could see the anger simmering behind his heavy glare, that look that always made you fearful of him as a child. His demeanor shifted, the tension thickening as he repeated his question.

"Who. Are. You??,” he demanded, each word laced with venom. You knew instantly that he’d figured it out. Your father was an observant man who never failed to hide his disdain for the gay community. His hatred ran deep, and it was precisely one reason why you had always feared introducing Shuri to him. When his cold gaze shifted to you, a wave of numbness washed through your entire body.

“You brought a dyke into my home, y/n?”

“Dad…please, not right now.”

“Oh, we are doing this right now.”

The tension in the room was suffocating, hanging thick in the air like a storm about to break. Every sound seemed sharper, every movement slower, as if the very walls held their breath.

“Sir, if I may speak—”

“And why are you here with my daughter? Who are you and what are you doing here??”

A change flickered across Shuri’s face, the look of someone ready to face a challenge and it was an expression you recognized all too well.

“Shuri…please,” you softly begged.

“He’s disrespecting you and I don’t like that.” But her eyes stayed locked on your father’s. The silent exchange between them spoke volumes, a tension mirrored in the cold expressions of both your parents. Panic rose to the brim of your throat as you shot to your feet and grabbed her wrist, desperately trying to pull her toward the door and away from this place. But she stood her ground, unmoving and frozen.

“I am her father. I’m the one who raised her. Who are you to come into my home and talk to me that way??”

“Your daughter does not want to marry whoever it is you think you have in mind. She is a grown woman and her own person. She does not want him. She will never love him. And she sure as hell will never marry him!”

“And why is that?? Because you came into the picture?? A good for nothing dyke? You are a perversion of humanity, a disgust to God’s eyes and you do not deserve to know my daughter! I will never allow this!”

Shuri’s anger flared, and you noticed the faint red glow in her eyes. Just as you moved to intervene, she did exactly what you feared; she lunged at your father, her anger uncontrollably lashing. In an instant, she was on him, sinking her teeth into his throat with a terrifying, blood-fueled rage.

“SHURI!!”

Your mother’s scream pierced the air as your father struggled, desperate and terrified, trying to shove Shuri off him. Panic gripped you as you shouted her name.

“SHURI! SHURI, STOP!”

It was the desperation and fear in your voice that pulled her back to you. Her fangs retracted, and her eyes slowly returned to their usual color as she turned to look at you. Your fathers blood stained her face, dripping down her jaw while your trembling father reached for the gun hidden in the drawer. He did not hesitate to point the barrel right at her and you felt as if your heart was going to burst out of your chest. In a second, a deafening BANG rang through the room before the bullet struck Shuri in the abdomen, but she didn’t even flinch. Blood flowed freely, yet the wound sealed itself almost instantly, faster than you could exhale. The complete and utter terror on your parents face as your father shot once more, only to have the same outcome, was enough to make you almost collapse and pass out.

“Stay away from me de-demon…,” your dad stuttered while your mother held onto him for dear life, and you had never felt so afraid for what was to come next.

“Y/n, I need you to leave the room…now,” Shuri said sternly in such a matter that you knew she meant it but you did not care.

“I’m not leaving, are you crazy??”

“Now! Before I actually hurt them!”

Her words smacked you in the face, and the look in her eyes told you she was leaving no room for disobedience. Reluctantly, you stepped away, but stayed close enough to overhear what was unfolding. What you caught were only snippets of Shuri’s voice and an unsettling silence from your parents. Curiosity gnawed at you, and you held your breath as you peeked around the corner. There was Shuri, speaking to both your parents as if she had them under a trance. Your parents stood frozen, their bodies unmoving, and a chill ran down your spine, goosebumps prickling to the surface of your skin. The sight made you shiver as you struggled to keep from collapsing. Why hadn’t she told you about this when you first questioned her about being a vampire? The realization dawned on you: mind control. And now you couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever used it on you.

“Fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that,” Shuri snarled, grabbing your wrist harshly as she pulled you both out the door, out of your parents' presence, and into a painfully quiet car ride.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“What the fuck was that?,” you irritably asked.

“Do not start with me right now, y/n.”

“Don’t sta—? Excuse me?? Have you lost your fucking mind??”

Shuri flopped down onto the sofa assertively, sitting man spread as she leaned back, rubbing her face with an air of agitation and impatience. It seemed as though she was deliberately ignoring your words.

“Hello? Earth to Shuri?? What, am I talking to myself here??”

“Might as well be.”

“You are…so fucking fucked up. My dad? Really, Shuri??”

“He’s lucky that’s all I did.”

You felt a jolt of shock, your eyes widening as you were rendered speechless. The nonchalant tone in her words stirred frustration in your stomach, and you struggled to contain your rising temper when upset.

“So what? Someone doesn’t like you and what, you kill them? You’re fucking unwell!”

She didn’t answer, just scoffed like you weren’t even there.

“And when were you going to tell me about how you can control minds or whatever the fuck that was?? Don’t you think that’s important information about you I should know?!”

“So you did see that…?,” she whispered under her breath with a subtle chuckle, her head bowed in shame as she fought to connect her eyes to yours.

“Yes I fucking saw that. Like you really just fucking looked at my parents and made them forget all that shit right infront of my fucking eyes like it was nothing…like you really just did that and never thought to fucking tell me??”

“So what, y/n?? Did you want me to let them remember that I almost killed your father?? Would that have been the rational thing to do?!”

“I’m only saying it would have been nice to know! That’s information I deserve to know, is it not? I’m your fucking girlfriend, am I right?!”

“If I had told you, you would walk the rest of our relationship questioning if it was real, correct?”

You said nothing.

“Yeah, that is what I thought. I have my reasons as to why I do or do not tell you things. Do not question my decisions to do so…”

“Yeah whatever, Shuri. Let’s be all dismissive and inconsiderate. Let’s all just get angry and eat people like fucking psychopaths!,” you yelled in a sarcastic tone but your anger was anything but sarcasm.

“And you want to be just like me, right? Is that not what you want? To be a vampire for the rest of your days? Let me tell you something…that is what being a vampire is!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t piss me off, y/n.”

Her words were delivered in an almost quiet and restrained manner, as if they were small and insignificant. But beneath the surface of calmness, you sensed a simmering anger that was on the brink of breaking through her skin; the intensity of her emotions was palpable despite the softness of her voice.

“Do you see what I have to go through everyday in my life?? THAT is what I’ll have to deal with and THAT is what I want to run away from. As long as I’m human, they are all I have! And I’m nothing but a tool for them! A means to bring in wealth to their pockets because they’re nothing but scum and I want out!”

“Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?” Her sudden change in tone sent a chill down your spine, its sharpness and intensity striking a nerve. “How it has been hell on earth for me??”

The hurt in her eyes and the pain in her voice gave you an immediate pang of regret and empathy.

“So what?? You want us to be together until I die? And you move on?” Your voice caught in your throat, choked by the effort of holding back tears. Each word felt like a struggle as emotions welled up inside you, threatening to spill over.

“Yes. Because that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

You were consumed by a mix of hurt and anger, emotions swirling within you like a turbulent storm. The room around you fell into an oppressive silence, a quiet that was deafening, emphasizing the profound impact of the emotional turmoil you fought so hard to keep at bay.

“When your dad said those things to me, called me those names, it stirred up old memories I thought I'd forgotten and I simply lost it. The way society used to treat people like you and me, it was so difficult to live even as a vampire. I used to be called every name in the book, treated like scum because where does a black lesbian woman fit into society in the 1800’s? How about in the 20’s? Or the 50’s? There was none. You guys have no idea what it means to not be who you are meant to be.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“What?”

“You’re a vampire. You could live anywhere in the world and anytime you wanted. Why would you stay in America of all places?”

A soft chuckle escapes her, followed by a small tilt in her smile as she quietly rolls her eyes. “I did the stupidest thing a vampire could ever do.”

Confusion washed over you like a wave, leaving your expression visibly puzzled.

“I fell in love.”

“Oh.”

“I had been alone for so many years and that was the first time in my 100 years of being a vampire, had I felt alive and full…and human.”

“Who was she?”

“She was…perfect.”

A small smile appeared on your face before it quickly washed away. “Was she…the girl in my dream? The one you gave me…”

She nodded.

“She wanted you to turn her.”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Why not? You loved her. You wanted to be with her forever, right? So why not just turn her??”

“I know what you’re doing, y/n. I’m not doing this right now.”

“But…please.”

The air between the two of you grew still and quiet, filled only with the weight of unspoken words. The silence stretched on, punctuated by the sound of distant waves rolling outside her home. It felt like there was a physical barrier between you, leaving an uncomfortable tension in its wake and so you raised your voice a little.

“Why don’t you just answer my question??”

“Do you not understand?? Being a vampire took everything I’ve ever loved away from me. That is what I’m trying to tell you. My mom, my friends, my family…the list is endless.”

You walked over to her and took your place beside her, leaning your head gently on her shoulder as the fabric of her shirt collected your tears before you kissed her shoulder. Despite the sorrow that filled both your hearts, your presence conveyed a quiet reassurance for Shuri as it always does. And that’s why she loves you; you shared an embrace in the face of emotional vulnerability.

“I’m so sorry life was unkind to you, Shuri, and I’m sorry being a vampire has been nothing but hell for you.”

You looked up at her with swollen, beady eyes; the aftermath of your tears evident in your pout.

“But the difference between you and me, Shuri, is that vampirism took from you because you actually had something to lose. You had a home, a family, friends, status…I don’t have anything. Nothing. You’re all I have…and I don’t want to lose you too.”

Shuri gazed down at you with a mixture of hurt and love in her eyes, a complex blend of emotions that spoke volumes. As she leaned forward, her lips brushed gently against your forehead in a tender gesture and you exhaled in relief before she abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to go take a walk.”

“But the sun will be up in a couple hours,” you respond with genuine concern.

“I’ll be back. I just need fresh air.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A few hours passed by and you grew concerned as you waited anxiously. Finally, you hear sounds of movement emanating from the kitchen, and a wave of relief washes over you as Shuri returns.

“Finally, I was beginning to worry.” You approach the kitchen but she doesn’t respond. “Shuri?”

But it wasn't Shuri. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest with fear as you entered the kitchen to find a total stranger making herself comfortable in Shuri's kitchen. The stranger was strikingly beautiful, with a deep and flawless complexion. Her hair was intricately braided in goddess braids, a wave of intertwined hair and curls that fell down to her hips, and her lips had the rich fullness of a summer rose in full bloom. All her features harmonized to form one of the most beautiful faces you had ever seen. What intrigued you the most, however, was the uncanny familiarity of her face, despite being certain you had never met her before.

“Who…who are you?,” you stammered, your shaky voice hard to contain but the woman did not answer you verbally; instead she returned your answer with a soft smile that should have been comforting but the glassy conceit in her eyes sent shivers through your entire body.

“Who are you??,” you asked once more, raising your voice a bit but still, she said nothing.

“I’m going to call—”

“Who?? Shuri??,” she cuts you off, a villainous smirk graces her face, a twisted expression that holds genuine amusement and you could feel your heart quicken beneath your ribcage.

“How do you know Shuri?”

“Oh me and her go way back,” she says so ‘matter-of-factly’.

“Wait, are you a—”

Once more, she interrupts you, appearing in front of you in a mere millisecond with a gust of air that brushes against your body. You gulp slightly as she stares you down, her eyes tinged with judgment. Fear envelops you like a suffocating cloak, yet you remain still, unwilling to challenge the woman who seemed delighted in the fear she instilled upon you.

You hear the door open behind you, and a slight sense of relief washes over you. The woman behind you breaks into a full, sinister smile.

"At last," she whispers, taking a seat on the island in Shuri's kitchen. When Shuri entered the premises, it was the most frightened and shocked you had ever seen her, her eyes seeped in fear and confusion at the image before her. But it isn’t too long before that fear is stripped away with anger, her fists balled up in frustration as both her and the unknown woman stared each other down.

"Shuri... Who is she?," you ask, breaking the stomach-churning silence.

“Please answer her, she’s already asked me twice and it's getting annoying,” the woman snarked.

“Adanna…you…you’re alive??”

“Oh, I very much died, but you know how the rest goes, I suppose,” she replies with a smirk.

“Who is she, Shuri??” Your voice takes on an edge, the words clipped and pointed. There's a noticeable tension in your words, as if each syllable is strained through gritted teeth.

“Ugh, answer your pest-of-a girl!”

Shuri's demeanor shifts noticeably as a veil of shame descends over her, her shoulders lower with a weight of embarrassment. For a moment, she does what she usually does in times like this, avoiding direct eye contact before she speaks.

“Remember that dream I gave you? The girl I showed you…? Well…that’s her.”

You remember in an instant. Recollections flood back, including Shuri's words about her passing from old age. The anger you feel is overwhelming and beyond words.

“The girl from your dream??”

Shuri nods, not even looking at you, her eyes still on the other woman.

“You…Shuri look at me!”

And she does. Without question.

“You told me she died of old age. You lied to me??”

The woman bursts into a cynical laughter. “Really Shuri? I ‘died’?? Well y/n, tell me more. What else did Shuri say about me? I’d love to hear this,” she chuckles but her admiration was sincere. You glanced at Shuri, almost seeking permission to proceed, but the notion of needing her approval quickly faded as you uncomfortably settled into the situation you were in. You were eager to uncover more about Adanna. Things that Shuri had never disclosed to you.

“That’s all she said about you. But…she showed me you…in a dream. You were human. You wanted Shuri to turn you. She drank your blood.” The details from the vivid dream began to replay and flood back into your memory. Adanna’s expression softened, resembling the poor, desperate girl that Shuri held in your dream.

"What happened to you?" Shuri interjects, genuine concern etched across her face as she observes her from a distance. Adanna's attention swiftly shifts from you to Shuri, her whole body radiating hurt and rage before she speaks.

“How dare you…” The words were spat in such a way that made your muscles tense. “You happened, Shuri! You came into my life and now what?? You are going to do the same thing to her!”

“No…I will not.”

“It’s too late, Shuri. You’ve already thought of it. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen…” She smiles devilishly, casting a quick glance in your direction before striding towards Shuri, the sound of her heels echoing loudly in your ears. “You’re going to fall desperately in love with her, if you haven’t already, you’re going to live a short life with her and then she will grow old and die. And that’s if she’s one of the lucky ones, you know how fragile they are. As long as she’s human, death will always be simple for her.”

She moves swiftly behind you, using her speed and strength to press your body against hers, as she gently wraps her hand around your throat, not to choke you, but to evoke fear in both you and Shuri at what she was capable of.

“Don’t even think about it or I’ll hurt her.”

“Please Adanna, leave her out of this.” Worry clouded Shuri’s eyes and it broke you.

“I can tell you really love her. So why won’t you turn her?? Why keep her this fragile and pathetic human being??” Her grip on your throat slightly tightens and you thickly swallow beneath her.

“You know why.”

“Oh I know full well…but does she??” She lets go of your throat, before taking a finger and caresses the thick artery that runs along the side of your neck, Your heart is pulsing in absolute terror and she chuckles at the way your body reacts to her.

“Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“Shut the hell up!”

You unwillingly tremble at her loud words.

“Oh baby, don’t look so scared,” she taunts. She skims your throat again, caressing the fang work from Shuri’s indulgence of you. “I see she’s had her fair share of you.”

You swallow, your throat bobbing beneath her touch.

“She’s really good in bed, isn’t she?”

Fear grips your eyes as you glance at her, and she giggles at your visible apprehension.

“It’s ok baby, you can admit it. I know all too well. She used to fuck me stupid too. But back in the day, people were not as…accepting of our lifestyle. I mean, really? What could be worse than being a gay, black woman in the 1920’s?? But that only made it so much more fun, right Shuri?? We had a blast didn’t we, babe? On the bar after work hours, cars in the back lane, under my dress at speakeasy tables?? Hotel rooms, back rooms…the fear of being caught… what a thrill.”

“That’s enough!”

She smiles and strides confidently toward Shuri, standing slightly over her in tall heels. With a sudden gesture, she lightly grips Shuri's jaw, catching the both of you off guard.

“Or what? What are you gonna do, baby? Kill me? We both know you never could.” She lets go of her jaw and trails her finger down her chest, admiring Shuri’s beauty and the sight makes your stomach twist; a surge of jealousy and protectiveness washes over you but what could your fragile body possibly do in a situation like this?

“You’ve gotten even sexier over the years, mm mm mm. The way I just wanna…this same chiseled jaw, used to drive me crazy.”

“Adanna…leave.”

“I guess I should, the sun will be rising soon. Or…I could just…stay here.”

“No.”

“Loosen up a bit, I’m joking.” She strides confidently toward you, locking eyes and observing the rise and fall of your chest with each labored breath.

“It was nice meeting you, y/n.”

She departed swiftly, her presence lingering like a chilling echo in the room long after she was gone.

The silence that engulfed the space between you and Shuri after Adanna's departure was suffocatingly dense. It echoed with the weight of unanswered questions and unresolved emotions, leaving a void that seemed to amplify with each and every heartbeat and breath that escaped you.

You allowed the silence to linger before stepping up to slap Shuri—a stinging blow that likely hurt you more than it did her, though you refused to show it. Shuri adjusted her jaw slightly from the impact, further fueling your building anger.

“You got something to say?!”

Shuri scoffs and starts to walk away, leaving you feeling as if your skin is melting.

“Hey…hey! I’m talking to you!”

She paces and smashes her table as if it were made of sand. You flinch, almost afraid of her intensity, but you're determined not to show your fear.

“So you turned that bitch but you won’t turn me??”

Finally her eyes meet yours. “Have you lost your damn mind, y/n?”

“Nah, I could ask you the same thing, Shuri! Because what was that?? All of that, what was it?? You gonna talk to me about how your 100 year old ex-girlfriend that apparently died from old age, was just in front of me? As a vampire…Shuri you LIED to me!”

“I did and I do not regret my decision to do so.”

The feeling of hurt and betrayal began to manifest in your body in physical ways, a sharp pain jabbing into your chest as if your heart was physically pierced. Your throat tightened up as a rush of heat and cold scattered through the thinning veins beneath your skin. Your body physically ached for her truth.

“Shuri, what is this?? What are we?? Do you like being in control? Powerful?? Is that it?? You like that your mind games are easier to play on my human brain? I don’t understand!”

“Don’t even start with me right now, y/n. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mo—oh…ok. Ok then. I see how it is. Here you go with this bullshit. Explaining to me at your convenience! Leaving me in the dark and for what?! You know what?? I’m not doing this right now. I’m going home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, that’s what the fuck I said.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n.”

“You gonna stop me??”

“You are not going out there! She could be out there doing god knows what!”

“I’m not scared of her.”

“Well you should be!”

“And why is that, Shuri?? Because she’s a vampire?? Because she kills people?? Last time I checked, so do you. And I’m not afraid of you. Fuck you!”

“You are…fuck…you are pissing me off.”

“Boo hoo.” You roll your eyes, a gesture that pushes Shuri dangerously close to the edge. The last thing she wants is to lose her temper like she did in front of your parents.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Put your shit down, you are not leaving here,” she comments as you start packing your things but you ignore her.

“Y/n…y/n!”

“Fuck off!”

As you're about to leave and reach for the door, she rushes behind you and slams it shut with a bang, blocking your escape.

“Shuri…move.”

“You won’t make me.”

You turn around to face her, finding yourself trapped between the door she has forcefully shut and her imposing figure. Despite her menacing presence, her face betrays a hint of worry, making it challenging for you to maintain your anger.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

You arched your eyebrow, letting out a slight chuckle while Shuri stood puzzled. What could possibly be so amusing to you at this moment?

“If you need company, I’m sure Adanna is wandering around somewhere and since you’ve fucked her brains out too, I’m sure she’s all too willing to come back and give you a mind-blowing night,” you snapped, struggling to conceal your jealousy, though by now, Shuri can easily read you like an open book.

“Now you are just being childish.”

“No. I’m leaving because you’re pissing me off.”

Your second attempt to leave was as successful as the first time, with your back against the door and Shuri's hand gently snaking your throat, careful not to cut off your oxygen intake. In that silent moment, your eyes locked, conveying a power dynamic that both thrilled and frustrated you. As long as you were human, this imbalance persisted; a blend of love and resentment. Even now, Shuri's proximity was irresistible, her scent enveloping you and despite the anger you felt, the strength she had over you went beyond mere physical, vampiric strength.

“Why must you be so difficult?”

Both of you were engulfed in anger towards each other, driven by a mutual fear of losing one another. Your actions appeared selfish and impulsive, but deep down, you both dreaded the thought of being alone, knowing that each other was all you had.

“I’m not being difficult, Shuri. My request is simple. I’m only asking you to turn me.”

“And don’t you think I would have a long time ago if it was the right thing for you?” Her voice was gentle and soothing, a juxtaposition of the rage she felt.

“This is the right thing for me. You are the right thing for me.”

Your eyes softened, and hers mirrored yours. Your breathing picked up immensely and Shuri did not even try to hide her gaze plastered on the way your breasts rose with each sharp breath you took in. Her glare evolved from soft and gentle to intense and purposeful, reflecting the shift from a pure emotional connection to a more primal and physical desire. She was lustful and so were you.

The tension in the air thickened quickly, like a weight settling over the both of you. Unspoken emotions and anticipation hung heavily between you, making every moment feel charged and intense. Gazes lingered longer than they meant to, words became unspoken, and the way Shuri’s palm stayed on your throat made you gulp in desire, wanting her to push your limits like she always does.

“Drink from me.” Your words were tinged with an unmistakable craving for her and you could not help but be slightly embarrassed; how pathetic you were to beg after trying so hard to stay mad at her. “It’s been too long, baby, I need it.”

Her palm sits fairly firm against your windpipe and you inhale sharply as you feel the warmth between your legs dampen.

“I can smell you, princess.”

“See, this is what I mean. This power imbalance between us…it drives me nuts. Nothing is fair between us if you keep this from me.”

Shuri hoists you closer to her by your throat, bringing your lips in for the ghost of a kiss, an exchange of warmth before she fully presses her lips against yours and she moans into your mouth, a sound that nestled so deeply between your thick thighs.

You jump into her arms before she carries you to the bedroom, not once detaching her lips from yours. As she steps foot into the bedroom, she places you roughly on her vanity, clearing space for your plush ass to hit the surface. Shuri tears your clothing aggressively, greedy to see your beautiful body as she leaves you in nothing but your undergarments. You gasp as goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin due to the mix of sudden cold air and her warm touch. It didn’t take long before her hands found your bra and ripped that off too, getting caught in the beauty of your breasts and the way they jiggled with your pretty gasps. For a moment, your eyes connected before her gaze trailed down to the wet patch seeping through your panties and Shuri can’t help but release a condescending laughter.

“I thought you said I pissed you off. But look at you, s’thandwa. You’re so wet. Do you hate me or want me?”

"Both," you exclaimed with a desperate intensity, feeling the anger towards her fueling the fire beneath your skin, expressing just how much you craved her touch.

"Mhmm," she murmured as her hand trailed down to the damp spot between your thighs that grew by the second, creating slow circles with the pad of her thumb and you cried with ache. Shuri adored your soft pleas of desire above all else. While she relished your moaning turning into screams of overwhelming pleasure, it was your gentle whining and whimpering that stirred her vampiric instincts to the brink, challenging her ability to suppress her true nature. You were aware of this, and you reveled in it. You enjoyed pushing her to her limits, knowing she would never physically hurt you.

With care, she slid the thin panties to the side, watching the way your sticky arousal clung to the fabric. She carefully slid a finger down your slit, just enough to be overwhelming yet not quite satisfying enough.

“Oh,” you breathed out as she caressed your beating bud, her lips attacking your throat once again as your fingers cling to the coils on her head.

“I don’t care about a power imbalance…until it comes to this,” she whispered to you, bringing her hands down to your thighs, kneading the flesh before she spread them open a bit more. Her mouth on your throat went from kissing the skin to sucking it, a gesture that was sure to leave bruised marks and your heart quickened at the anticipation of feeling her sink into you.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Your heart is pounding…why?”

“Please…Shuri…”

“Tell me.”

“Drink my blood. Please, baby, please.”

A crooked smile appeared before she looked for any hint of hesitation in your eyes but there was none to be found. You wanted this, needed it, just as much as she did and that made her turn insatiable, almost afraid that her crave for you would overcome rational thought.

She grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze up on hers. “You want me to drink from you, y/n?”

You nodded with such urgency that it felt embarrassing. She smirked, lowering her mouth for a fleeting kiss just above the side of your throat. Your heart raced, nearly bursting out of your chest. Yet when she offered only a light kiss without delving deeper, you felt annoyed and disappointed, still craving the satisfaction that had consumed you.

“Please, Sh—,” but you were cut off with a slender finger to your lips, giving you one last peck on your pouted mouth before she gets down on her knees in front of you, placing wet, devoted kisses from your stomach down to the area just above your pussy. Shuri loved dragging you to your release, watching your body flare in desperation made her wet each and every time.

“You know what I love about your human skin?”

"Hmm?" Your thoughts were clouded, making it difficult to speak, and Shuri chuckled softly underneath you.

“I love that I can mark you up. Claim you as mine. As a vampire, you would just heal. Is that what you want?”

You didn’t reply, but simply gazed down at her beautiful curls settled between your thick thighs but Shuri was not pleased, and the way she lightly slapped your pussy over the fabric of your panties proved that.

“Oh,” you stuttered softly to her delicious touch.

“I asked you princess, is that what you want?”

“N-no.”

“Hmmm…that’s what I thought.”

Shuri planted several affectionate kisses on your clit, the final tender gesture before you received what you had been yearning for; the exquisite and familiar sting of Shuri’s fangs piercing your skin only this time, her head was buried between your left thigh, marking her territory with her fangs as she drank the crimson lifesource. The sensation was exhilarating, a familiar mixture of pleasure and pain, the boundaries between the sensations melding into a blurred ecstasy.

“Shuri,” you moaned out, overwhelming her sanity. She quickly detached from you, sending her love in equal measure to your opposite inner thigh, pushing your panties to the side to make room for her fingers to settle beautifully inside you.

“Hold this here,” she demanded, wanting your own fingers to hook the fabric to the side so she could focus on tending to your mind and body. And you complied, holding your panties in place before you felt her sink two fingers into you.

“Unh,” you softly whimpered, spreading your legs to the best of your ability to give your girlfriend more room to continue her work, the duality of her drawing blood from your inner thigh as she pumped into your thumping pussy walls had your heels digging into her back, your own back drawn into a soft arch as you worked her face.

“There’s my girl.”

Her persistent fingers continued their relentless nudging against your sensitive spot. She was cautious not to draw too much blood from you. As you neared climax, she withdrew, returning to meet your face now adorned with a pout, eyes brimming with an eternal longing for her to bring you to completion.

"I was almost there," you complained, your eyebrows softening along with Shuri's, before she swiftly positioned your body to press against hers, your back against her front as your reflections stared back through the vanity mirror. Her lips were stained in a deep red hue and the irises of her eyes matched the tone. It was an image that should have frightened you but it was your favorite look on her, Shuri in her true nature; predator and prey in its most sensual form.

“I know you were, but you know the rules. You cum when I let you cum, understood?”

You nod quickly.

“Good girl.”

Shuri grabs your breasts, kneading them as she kisses the crevice between your shoulder and your throat.

“Shuri…baby…m-more. I need more.”

And with your words, one of her hands travels upwards towards your throat as the other roams south, pushing her fingers beneath your now soaked panties as she skimmed your delicate clit, circling the bud before she dips her fingers into you with the goal to finish what she started.

“You know what else I love about your human body?”

“Hm? Wh-what’s that?”

“Your human breath and how easy it is to just…cut it off.” Her hand clasped your throat firmly, not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to make you feel lightheaded. “Can’t do this if you don’t breathe. And I know how much me choking you gets you wet, nkosazana, do you really want that gone?”

You squirmed briefly while she maintained her grip. You looked so beautiful in your helpless state and not once did her fingers relent their persistent and calculated strokes inside you, paying close attention to the way your pussy walls responded to her presence. She had one hand beneath your panties, the other around your neck, pulling constricted whimpers from you as you struggled for air. Your little sounds got to her, and she let you go.

“Aww, you’re ok. You’re gonna let me do it again, right?”

“Yes please, choke me again, Shuri. Please. I’m so close.”

And she does, because why would she deny her love? She clasps your throat once more, your hips canting along with her thrusts, running towards your sweet, sweet release.

“That’s it, baby. Let all your frustrations out. Good girl, let it all out.”

“Sh-Shuri…,” you choked out, pouting at the way you felt your walls tighten in pleasure around your girlfriend’s determined fingers. Shuri releases you, listening to your intake of air before she gently caresses the side of your throat. Her eyes locked with your reflection in the mirror, bracing you for what's to come. She took hold of your throat again, tilting your jaw to the side to expose the same spot she had fed from the first time. The familiar mix of slight pain and intoxicating pleasure surged through you, heightening the sensation of your impending orgasm and hearing Shuri’s soft moans of satisfaction as she drank from you only deepened your bliss. Not once did her fingers halt, her palm grazing your sensitive clit drew you nearer to the end until you let out a high pitched moan that made Shuri’s pussy clench in ache.

“Unh…Shuri, Shuri…yes! Fuck!”

She took one final taste before reluctantly pulling away, but not without struggle. Your blood was like fuel to her, and once she got a taste, it was a challenge to let go and although it should frighten you, it didn’t. Turning to face her, you met her gaze with your drowsy eyes, falling into the depths of her bloodshot irises. She looked unsettlingly beautiful, and in that moment, you realized how much you missed this, how deeply you needed it. The smirk on her blood-stained lips spoke volumes of how much she felt the same.

“You always do so good for me, princess,” she spoke with softness, slipping her cum-coated fingers between your lips as you sucked the remnants of your release off of her. You let go with a wet pop, batting your eyelashes at her before you spoke.

“I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you more.”

As soon as you both finish cleaning and tending to one another, you slip back into a deep sleep, resuming the dream where you left off a few months ago, with the woman in your arms, the one you now know to be named Adanna.

➳ the dream:

The dream setting is the same as before, with Shuri allowing you to experience everything from her perspective, as if you were living it yourself. Once again, Adanna is in your arms, pleading for you to turn her.

“I want you to do it, Shuri. Turn me. Please. I want this.” Her dark brown eyes shimmered with a perfect blend of desperation and love. You were terrified, afraid of crossing your boundaries once more, but the thought of not being with her forever frightened you even more.

"Please," she pleaded one final time before you pressed your lips to hers, savoring the warmth of her human essence before trailing down to her throat, delicately grazing your mouth across her skin and her pulse whispered against your lips. Opening your mouth, you descended, piercing her veins with your teeth and you moaned as her life source flowed into your mouth, embracing the flavor you desperately needed. As you continue to drink from her, your struggle to detach your lips from her throat grows more and more and Adanna becomes frightened, soon coming to realize that she had underestimated your thirst.

“Shuri,” she softly pleads, her mind growing fuzzy as she feels life slowly drift from her. “Shuri, please…you’re hurting me.”

You tried to fight it, but you were lost, intoxicated by the blood as you sank your teeth deeper into the one you loved. Drinking from her was unlike anything else; hunger, love, and lust blurred together and you could not decipher which was which. Her blood brought you the closest you'd ever felt to heaven, your senses heightened and explosive. Yet, in that overwhelming euphoria, you couldn't feel or hear her struggling beneath you, death latching closer and closer to her.

“Shuri…Shuri…it’s too much!”

You thought you could do it, bring her to the brink of death and then feed her your blood to restore her but you could not stop.

“I love you…need you so bad,” you mumbled against her, feeling her lifesource flow through your dead body made you feel more alive than you ever felt.

"SHURI!" she screamed one final time before you felt an enormous impact that sent you flying, landing on your feet as if you were a superhero. He came out of nowhere, a tall man who stood before both you and a dying Adanna. In that moment, you realized the gravity of your actions. You had crossed a line you never intended to, and now the consequences were clear: Adanna, helpless and nearly lifeless, was pleading for the man to save her and take her away from you. It broke your heart to see her so terrified of you.

“A-Adanna??”

"St-stay aw-ay from... me," she said with weakness, gasping as death knocked at her front door. You wanted to help her, to save her, but as you moved towards her, the mysterious man dashed in front of you with a speed that startled even you, revealing his vampire nature. It was evident he had been around for a long time, the first vampire you'd encountered since your maker left you many years ago.

“Let me help her!” You yelled in terror, attempting to fight the much stronger man.

“No,” the man gently stated, as if you were not weeping in fear as the love of your life lay dying as a result of your inability to control yourself. “You will kill her.”

“No…I can do this! Let me go! Let me help her!”

“You have yet to master the art of control. You cannot do this or you will kill her.”

“And she will most certainly die if you do not get your hands off me and let me help her!” You were in a state of panic, more frightened than you ever thought possible, and your heightened vampire senses only intensified your fear and anger.

“Stay a-way…don’t touch m-me…”

“Do you hear that? She does not want you to help her…perhaps it would be better if you let me handle this. Let me take care of her. Let me rid you of the burden of having to turn her yourself and you can be free.”

At that moment, his words made sense. You felt like a burden, and the scent of Adanna’s blood still lingered within you, making you afraid of what you were capable of.

"Let me handle this," he assured once more. It took you a moment, but Adanna was dying, losing blood by the second. With every drop that hit the ground, it became harder for you to resist the urge to go and drink it, to savor her last moments as she slipped away.

"Leave." It was a command, not a suggestion. You took in the sight of her one last time before you ran, seizing this final chance before you lost all control, leaving Adanna and the man behind. That was the last moment you saw her, the last time you held her weak body as you struggled with your instincts. In that moment, you lost all hope. You were doomed, cursed to a life of loneliness. Everything you touched, you destroyed. Everyone you loved died by your hands and you wanted no part of it. You ran and never looked back, fleeing into endless darkness until you finally woke up.

You woke up to darkness, realizing how much you had adapted to Shuri's lifestyle as you drifted off at sunrise. You sensed her presence beside you on the bed, your back turned to her. Taking a moment to process the dream she had shared with you, a window into her past, you turned around. There she was, sitting with her elbows resting on her propped-up knees, her head bowed in shame, struggling to meet your gaze, afraid you would never look at her the same way again. For a moment, you both sat in silence, the sound of your soft breath and the absence of hers filling the room as you pondered what had just witnessed.

“I thought I put that day behind me, but revealing it to you stirred up old memories I wish I had forgotten,” her trembling voice broke the silence. “It’s an indescribable feeling, the all encompassing, wretched, mind-shattering feeling of drinking from someone you love, especially if you are doing it in hopes of turning them.”

The silence settled like a weight in the room, each passing second stretching longer than the last.

“Feeling love as a vampire is much much much harder than any human love, I can assure you. Once you are turned, everything becomes magnified, including human feelings. Love as a human is already too much in itself, as a vampire it’s the most burdening feeling when you constantly crave their blood as well, not wanting to hurt them but wanting a taste…it’s overpowering.”

You sit up in front of her, taking her hands in yours for a gentle kiss.

“The guilt I felt was mind blowing, doing to her the exact same thing my maker did to me. I left her, and left her to him. I had no idea who he was or what his intentions were. I was not thinking clearly at that moment and to be fair, with all her blood rushing through me, there was no way I could think properly. I was out of my mind, high on her blood and thirsty for more.

“At first, I was not sure if she was turned or if she died, and I did not want to find out as both answers frightened me. But once I heard of all the killings that were happening in the city, I figured they were coming from her and I wanted so badly to intervene and help her, be a mentor but what kind of mentor would I be?? I could barely control myself, never mind a new vampire who was abandoned by who she thought was the love of her life. I did not intervene out of fear, and because of that, she is the monster she is now.”

“No…Shuri, you can’t put that on yourself.” And you meant it. How could she place such a burden on herself? “I understand that you feel a sense of obligation to fix her, or be there for her…whatever it is, but Shuri…baby look at me…who she is, is not because of you.”

A small grin graced her face, appreciative of your efforts but did not believe it.

“At the end of the day, Adanna is her own being. Everything she did was a choice she made on her own. And she can blame you or the world or whoever she wants but we are all responsible for our own actions. Life isn’t fair to anybody, but we have to deal with the cards we are dealt with, Shuri. You were abandoned too, baby…remember that.”

She smiled gently, resting her cheek against your cupped hand.

“I remember once she had this crazy idea on turning all the black people in the city of New York into vampires so we could collectively take over colonial powers. It was tempting.”

She chuckled and so did you.

“So…why New York?”

You take the pad of your thumb and gently caress the final tears that escape her.

“You could go anywhere in the world…why some random house just outside New York? You could’ve literally gone anywhere and you chose to be here…”

“I suppose when you hear of a city that never sleeps, that is alive during the night…well which vampire wouldn’t want to go there??”

“Fair point.” You feel a fierce urge to ask her the question, fearful that it might ignite jealousy inside you or resurrect old emotions within her.

“How did you meet her?”

Shuri rose her brow, unsure if this is really what you wanted to hear right now. “Are you sure you wanna hear about my past love life?”

“No, but I can’t help but be a little curious,” you respond with a gentle smile, pecking her plush lips with a kiss before she speaks.

“I went to a speakeasy one night, and she was there singing on the stage. She was so beautiful, singing with one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard and I just could not let her go. That was my mistake, of course. She could have lived a long and fruitful life without me if I just stayed away.”

“Shuri…”

“I’m not a good person, y/n.”

“I don’t believe that. I believe your life was taken from you and you were learning to survive on your own. Everything was a first for you. Loving as a vampire was a first for you. Drinking your lover's blood was a first for you. Turning her, that was your first time. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. You made mistakes. Big mistakes? Yeah. You fucked up, Shuri. But name me one person who hasn’t.”

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Painting me like this pure person, I’m anything but. I’ve done some terrible things, y/n.”

“And we can talk about that later, but I see what you’re trying to do here. You’re trying to scare me away, make me change my mind and it’s not working. I know what I want. I wanna be with you. Forever”

“Uh uh. Not good enough. No way I’m turning you because you love me. What happens if it doesn’t work out for us down the road? And now you’re stuck as a vampire forever. What then?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“We don’t know that, y/n. And I’m not saying this because I doubt your love for me or vice versa, I’m saying this because I’ve been around long enough to see how the world works. How people change. How life and circumstances change people.”

“So then what do you want me to say, Shuri?”

“Give me a reason. A real reason as to why you want this and then I can make a decision from there.”

You pause, weighing your many reasons before you speak.

“Ok. How about this…I have nothing to live for. I have no money except my parents' money, and they cut me off. No siblings. No friends. No future.”

“And you want this to be your future?? To live with an everlasting urge to hunt and kill…”

“I’ll choose not to kill.”

“It is not that simple, y/n.”

“Maybe not. But the difference between me and you is you had nobody to teach you. No guidance. No mentor. But I’ll have you. You’ll teach me to be good, I know you will. I trust you, Shuri.”

“Bast…you’re driving me insane.”

“Come on, my love…what are you waiting for?? Don’t you want to be with me…forever?”

“Fuck. Of course I want that. More than anything in the world.”

“Then what’s stopping you??”

“It did not end well for me the last time.”

“It won’t be like that. You can stop.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Maybe not, but I trust you. If you can stop while you’re fucking me then you can stop while turning me.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Shuri, pleaassee. Bring me to my final breath, and then give it back to me. I’ll be strong and free…just like you. I won’t be this fragile, weak thing that you have to worry about all the time. I’ll be able to fend for myself and I won’t be a burden to you anymore.”

“You’re not a burden to me.”

“But I am. Even if you don’t see it. I slow you down, babe.”

Her gaze narrowed, brows furrowing slightly as they peered into the distance, lost in contemplation.

“Plus, I don’t want to grow old while you stay young. It’ll look weird on my part.”

You both laugh and she shakes her head in sympathetic disbelief.

“Soooo is that a yes?”

“Most definitely not a yes.”

“Is it a ‘maybe’?”

“Hmmm…maybe.”

“Well that’s not a ‘no’.”

“I guess it’s not.”

“So we’re getting somewhere??”

She refused to acknowledge it, to admit how you were pulling at the strings of her undead heart. She had never felt so desired, so wanted in her life, not even by Adanna, and it was driving her to madness. She longed for you in every way imaginable, wishing it didn't have to be this way, replacing your breath with one that hungered for blood above all else. Yet, Shuri was always selfish, never one to deny herself what she desired. So, for a fleeting moment, her heart and mind softened, indulging in the realm of possibilities.

“Yes princess…we are getting somewhere.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Several days had passed since the incident, spent in peaceful solitude with Shuri. One evening, you chose to rise a little earlier to catch the sunset. Despite having largely adapted to Shuri’s lifestyle, you remained human, with an innate need for sunlight and its comforting warmth.

You sat on the shore, watching the sunset painting the sky as the day gently faded away. Pastel hues glistened before your eyes, sparking a feeling of wonder and awe. It was a moment for contemplation, a brief respite from life's chaos where time appeared to stand still. As a vampire, you understood you would never have this experience again, and a part of you found solace in that. You were willing to relinquish these small, inherently human moments if it meant freedom from the limitations that came with being one.

Even after the sun fully set, you sat outside for another hour or so, enjoying your own company. You looked back at Shuri's house, finding her silhouette beaming through the window and knowing she was there drew comfort.

“I love you, y/n,” she said to you through her mind, and you smiled, impatient for the day you could telepathically say it back to her.

“I love you, Shuri,” speaking as if she was right next to you but you knew her vampire ears picked it up with ease.

“I love you.” Another voice entered your mind, a mocking one, and it left you utterly confused. It didn’t sound like Shuri’s voice, but who else could it be?

“Did you say something?,” you asked, hoping Shuri would hear you again.

“I did not,” she replied to your mind. “Why do you ask, s’thandwa?”

“Oh nothing…I just thought I heard something.”

“No baby, I said nothing,” she assured once again.

You continue to savor your moment with yourself when an unfamiliar rustling in the trees catches your attention. Startled, you glance around but see nothing. You looked at the window and Shuri wasn’t there anymore. The rustling sounds again.

"Shuri? Shuri, this isn't funny." You knew your girlfriend loved to play games and tease you whenever she had the chance, but now she was nowhere to be found. "Shuri??"

A gust of wind struck your back, accompanied by a dark presence looming over you, forcing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You’re still as beautiful as ever.”

Your heart thudded erratically in your chest, a frantic drumroll that seemed to echo through your entire body. It pounded with such intensity that you could feel it in your throat. That all-too-familiar voice that swept through your mind, bringing back memories of darkness and unhappiness, left you in sheer terror. It was impossible. How could this be? But as soon as you doubted, the feeling vanished, replaced by the unmistakable sensation of rough, clammy hands skimming your shoulders, making your body shudder in fear.

“Turn around my love. Let me see your pretty face,” he whispered into your ear and you complied, coming face to face with him; the man you hated beyond the hatred you’ve ever felt for anyone.

Jonathan.

Only now his face seemed harsher and more sinister; his eyes glowed a vivid, unsettling red, like twin embers burning with insatiable hunger. Your first instinct was to run, but you knew better. There was no way a human could outrun a vampire. So, you stood frozen in your spot as he extended his fangs.

“You’re probably wondering where Shuri is, right? Why hasn’t she come to your rescue…?? She’s rather…occupied at the moment with her first love. Who gave me permission to kill you if Shuri even dares to come save you.”

You say nothing.

“But that’s the problem, y/n. I don’t want to kill you…I just want you.”

He reaches out to graze your face, and you dodge his touch; something you never would have dared to do when you were with him, fearing his reaction. But now, you are filled with anger with no outlet. How dare Shuri lie to you again? You felt manipulated and used, as if she had deceived you to win you over, treating you like a pawn in her own little vampire game.

Jonathan cocks his head at the action, shocked at how you so easily avoided his touch.

“I see your time with your little dyke has made you forget your manners.”

“Go to hell.”

He smirked so deviously, like the human Jonathan you used to pretend to love but even now, you could feel how becoming a vampire has heightened the terrible person he already was even before his transformation.

“I’m going to find Shuri,” but as you walked away, his vampire speed blocked you once again in a millisecond and your heartbeat quickened.

“Get out of my way,” you whisper in malice, your eyes buried into his scarlet ones as you pretend to not be afraid. But as soon as he gripped your arm with sheer vampire force, one that could have snapped your bone if he had gripped any harder, you yelled.

“Let go of me!”

“I swear to god, if he hurts you, I’ll rip him to fucking pieces!,” she spoke to your mind, and even though you could not directly hear her words, her fear for you was still utterly discernible. But that moment of ease washed away as soon as you and Jonathan both heard intense crashing and banging coming from inside the house; sounds that made you fear for Shuri’s immortal life.

“Shuri!!”

“Hold on baby, I’m coming for you.”

Shuri burst through the door with Adanna right behind her, the two of them locked in a vicious physical fight as they sped toward you with such velocity, it seemed as though they were floating rather than running. Both bore scars on their faces and bodies, healing rapidly, but you hardly noticed in the midst of their chaos. Before you could comprehend what was happening, Shuri lunged toward Jonathan with nothing but the intention to destroy him. With her years of experience, she could easily overpower him—but Adanna intercepted her, stepping between the two of them. Shuri tried to push past, but Adanna had grown stronger over the years. The entire scene was terrifying, three sets of eyes glowing and fangs bared.

Shuri is consumed by rage, too blinded by her fury to notice little ol’ you trembling in the corner. Her only focus is tearing Jonathan apart. The three vampires clash violently, with Shuri's power overwhelming Jonathan, who looks bewildered as he struggles to defend himself. Adanna, nearly as strong as Shuri, fights fiercely to protect him, their movements a blur of speed and raw strength.

You stood frozen in terror, your fear for Shuri's safety overwhelming you more than anything. Desperate, you screamed her name, and in an instant, the chaos ceased. All three pairs of eyes turned toward you, but only Shuri truly felt the depth of your fear. Her anger immediately drained from her, and her blood-red eyes faded back to their dark brown, her fangs retracting as she softened. She ran toward you, but as she drew closer, you instinctively backed away. Jonathan made a move to follow, but Adanna held him back, her curiosity piqued by what was about to unfold.

Shuri's heart broke at the subtle gesture of you backing away from her. You were just as terrified of her now as you had been when she first revealed her true nature, and she could sense it. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable, and in that moment, she realized how deeply the fear had taken root.

“Y/n? B-baby what’s wrong?”

“You lied to me,” you whispered to yourself, but of course her ears heard you perfectly. You looked so small and helpless, curling into yourself.

“What?? Baby, no. I didn’t lie to you. I’m just as shocked as you are.”

"Stop lying!" you screamed, your voice trembling as you felt yourself losing control. Shuri's face was etched with shock, while Adanna looked on with a knowing smirk. “All you have done since the moment we met was a lie!”

“No! No nkoszana, I’m telling the truth!”

Shuri reached out to touch you, but Jonathan moved to hold her back. In an instant, Shuri had him in a chokehold, a position where she could decapitate him easily if she wished. Adanna mirrored her actions with you, gripping you firmly. She clicked her tongue and waved her finger in a silent gesture of warning.

“Let her go, or I’ll kill him!”

“You first.” Adanna tightened her grip on you, applying more pressure to intimidate Shuri, causing you pain. You whimpered in her hold, pleading for her to let go.

“Adanna…”

“Let. Him. Go.”

“What do you want, huh? Why have you come back? After all these years, why are you here tormenting me?”

Adanna smirked, then roughly tossed you to the ground, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of you. As you struggled to catch your breath, Shuri kept a firm grip on Jonathan, who looked terrified for his life. Slowly, Adanna approached him, her eyes cold as she scanned the fear etched across his face.

“I turned him.”

Shuri stood silent in confusion.

“I saw you that day, you took him out here in the middle of nowhere thinking you were safe. I saw you drain the life out of him, but you didn’t actually kill him…and there was your mistake. You left him for dead, had you drank anymore from him, he would have died. But you didn’t. You just…left him there. To wither away with his thoughts, ran away from the crime scene you invented and I came in…and saved him.”

“A quick death would have been too easy for him. He deserved to suffer.”

“Why? Because of how he treated her??,” she says in disgust. “What makes her more deserving than me??”

“So this is what it is about?? Revenge?? I know I hurt you Adanna and that is something I have to live with for the end of time but your anger will not change the situation!”

“Maybe not…but it will make me feel better.”

Adanna moved with terrifying precision, driving a thick stick into your side with a swift, calculated thrust. The pain was searing, a torment that seemed to stretch on endlessly, enough to potentially kill you slowly, but not immediately. The world around you twisted into a blur as the pain took hold of you.

You remembered Shuri’s anguished reaction, even through the haze of your suffering. She let go of Jonathan immediately, racing to your side with a desperate urgency. Jonathan, unable to resist the overwhelming scent of your blood, stumbled after you but Shuri anticipated his move, intercepted him by driving a thick stick into him with equal force. Although it didn't pierce his heart, it was enough to weaken him drastically, sending him sprawling to the ground; his new vampire strength unable to withstand the attack.

Your memories were fragmented and disjointed; fleeting images of Shuri crying out for help as she held your limp body in her arms, the echo of chaotic footsteps in the hallways, and blinding flashes of light as everything around you dissolved into a painful blur.

“What was the incident??”

“I-I don’t know, she just…” Shuri's panicked cries fade into the background as you struggle to cling to life.

“Send her to the E.R.!”

"Stay alive, my love. Please don’t make me turn you this way," her voice echoed in your mind, compelling you to fight to stay alive. You struggled until everything around you went silent, enveloping you in a deep, profound slumber that brought you into a dreamlike state. You found yourself free, transcending the limits of your mortal existence. You were powerful and flawless, feeling an exhilarating strength that made you believe you could conquer anything. The world outside was cloaked in darkness, but you felt no fear. Instead, you felt invincible, where every shadow and obstacle seemed insignificant against your newfound strength. Your senses were heightened; the night air was crisp and alive with possibilities, and you reveled in the freedom and dominance that being reborn gifted you.

You drifted. And drifted. And drifted. Into an inevitable nothingness; claiming you for what seemed like an eternity.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You had been confined to bed for a while, the painkillers draping you in a shroud of sleep. Gradually, consciousness nudged at you, and you fought to pry your eyes open against the blinding whiteness of hospital lights. As your surroundings started to come into focus, a sharp gasp escaped you, accompanied by a stabbing pain in your side; lingering reminders of your wounds. A gentle breeze brushed past, and you turned to see Shuri swiftly by your side of the hospital bed. Her presence was peace to your weary soul, her eyes filled with relief and affection, warming you even as your mind struggled to fully awaken.

“A-am I a vampire now?,” were your first words as you fought the effects of the heavy medications.

Shuri chuckles, tears rolling down her eyes as she plants the firmest kiss to your forehead. “Nurse! She’s awake!”

“Shuri…what happened??”

“It’s okay baby…you’re ok now, you are going to be ok. I love you so much, do you know that? Please say you know that…”

In a fleeting instant, the memories surged back, crashing over you like a tidal wave. The faces of Jonathan and Adanna flickered in your mind, their actions replaying with a vividness that made your breath catch. You could almost feel the crushing weight of terror that overcame you, the harrowing brush with death that had nearly consumed you. It was as if you were reliving the torment all over again as you struggled to grasp the reality around you. The emotional sting is almost as painful as the physical one, as though it might pull you under once more.

“Why didn’t you turn me?”

Shuri stayed quiet, her brows knitting together in a wordless expression.

“Let’s talk later princess…the nurse should be here shortly.”

After a series of tests and a checkup, you were finally cleared to leave. As you settled into the wheelchair and were brought to the car, you noticed a stain of dried blood on the passenger's seat, a haunting reminder of that day’s events. The car ride home was quiet, tension thick in the air but the moment you arrived, Shuri used her vampire speed to grab the wheelchair and bring it to you before you could even open the door.

“I don’t need that,” you scoffed.

“S’thandwa, do not be stupid. Sit in the chair.”

“No, I’m not a cripple. I can do this myself.”

“Y/n…”

“I said no.”

There’s a brief pause before she smirks, then suddenly scoops you up, cradling you in her arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a startled yelp as she lifts you effortlessly.

“You want to be stubborn? Fine, be that way.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, one you tried to suppress, hoping she wouldn’t notice. But, of course, she did. Nothing ever slipped past her.

As you entered the room, she carefully laid you down on the bed, her touch gentle and reassuring. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before settling beside you. Silence shook the room once more, but your mind was anything but quiet. Thoughts swirled in an endless stream, each one begging for attention, leaving you unsure of where to even begin unraveling them.

“I’m so so so sorry, y/n,” Shuri mutters. “I should have never brought you into this. This was my fault. And now they are both out there, bast knows where, most likely scheming against me which most likely involves hurting you because she hates how much you mean to me.”

You remain silent, letting it all sink in. A lone tear slips down your cheek, soaking into the fabric of the pillow beneath you.

“So why didn’t you turn me then?” Your voice was broken and bruised, beaten by what seemed like Shuri’s innate fear to make her like you. She turns around to face you, but your gaze remains on the empty ceiling. “It was the perfect opportunity. You could have just let me bleed out a little longer, pull me to the brink of death and then turn me.”

“Because that is what she wanted, princess. She wanted me to turn you in hopes that I would have the same fate with you as I did with her.”

“So what? Does she want you back or something? What does she want from me?”

“She wants revenge. She hates to see me happy after what I had done to her. She cannot fathom me being with the person I love while she rots in anger.”

You scoff, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Well she’s dumb and needs to get a hobby.”

Shuri softly chuckles before speaking. “I also did not turn you because that’s not how I wanted it to happen.”

“What?”

“If I would have turned you right then and there, it would not have been because that was your choice. It would have been because of unfortunate circumstances and that is not fair to you. When I turn you, I atleast owe you that luxury I was never given.”

You struggled to process the words spilling from her mouth, disbelief tightening in your chest. Slowly, you turned to face her, your movements deliberate as you drew in a few deep breaths, trying to steady the ache building within you.

“Shuri…?” You had to make sure you were hearing correctly.

“This was never my intention, to let it get to this point. You were beautiful, and I was simply tired of being alone, and I selfishly took it upon myself to weave myself into your life and now we are here. I guess it was bound to happen.”

“Shuri, what are you saying??”

For a moment, she lay there, caught in the disbelief of the words she was about to speak, as if hesitating to give them life. She reaches out to caress your cheek, eyes locking in an instant and her gaze softened before she said the words you craved since the moment you truly knew her.

“You leave me no choice, my beautiful princess, but to turn you.”

A wave of beautiful relief washed over you, lifting the weight that had burdened your heart for so long. You felt as light as a cloud, as if, for the first time, everything might actually be okay. Shuri pulled you close, your face nestled against her chest as silent sobs shook your body. She understood immediately that these weren’t tears of sadness, nor were they tears of joy. They were tears of overwhelming relief.

Life had not been kind to you. People had walked all over you, leaving you feeling small, helpless, incapable of standing on your own. But Shuri was different. She made you feel like you were worth something, like you were worth fighting for. All you had ever wanted was to be free; nothing more, nothing less. And Shuri knew this. She felt it in the way your tears soaked into her shirt, as if the warmth of your need could breathe life into her dead beat heart. You needed this. You needed her. And she needed you too.

“I know baby…I know. I’m so sorry.”

You sobbed into her, inhaling her comforting scent into you, the scent you wished to breathe in for the rest of eternity.

“I’m so sorry I made it so hard for you to convince me. It’s not that I did not want to be with you forever…I was just so afraid.”

You lifted your face up to hers, her beautiful tear stained face locked in yours.

“I know, Shuri. It’s ok. I understand you.”

This was all you needed: a moment of comfort so profound that it felt as though it could last forever. And you yearned for it to be timeless, untethered by the fleeting time of your human days, existing beyond the limits of mortal time.

Weeks went by, and with each passing day, you grew stronger, your body healing and regaining its strength. Through it all, Shuri stayed by your side, every step of the way. She encouraged you to savor the human experience for as long as you could, and you agreed, finding joy in the small, everyday moments before they slipped away. Life felt more peaceful than it had in a long time, and Shuri was every bit a part of it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I’m ok now, love,” you giggled, as Shuri scooped you up in her arms.

“I know, I just get so worried about you.”

About 2 months have passed since the incident, and you were feeling much better. Here you were, in Shuri’s arms as she carried you to the bedroom like a princess. Your human lungs still drew in breath, and your heart continued to beat as you waited patiently for Shuri to fully bring you into her world.

When you both lied on the bed, you got the urge to try something. You straddled her, startling her as you took her mouth into yours. It had been so long since you had her, and you knew she resisted out of fear in hurting you but you missed her. Missed her touch and missed the way she made your body feel. But Shuri quickly detached from your lips and you whimpered at the hurtful act.

“No. Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please…please just let me,” you pleaded in desperation.

“I said no”

“Why?? Stop acting like I’m easily shattered. We used to fuck so good and everyday I go without touching you…tasting you…I literally lose my mind. I know you’re afraid and seeing me like how I was when I was hurt probably scarred you but I am not a child. I can take care of myself and right now…I want you. All of you. I miss you. I miss your gorgeous, sexy body and I miss feeling you inside me.”

She raised a brow.

“Don’t you miss me?”

She gazed intently into your soft eyes and your pouting lips, shaking her head with a playful sigh. She leaned her forehead into yours before she spoke.

“More than anything, my love.”

“Then what are you waiting for??”

Shuri hesitated, but her feelings of love and desire burned even stronger, overwhelming her uncertainty.

“Just this one time.”

“Just this one time,” you repeated. Your lips met slowly at first, the hesitation giving way to a rush of heat. She gripped the back of your neck to pull her closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like you two were breathing the same air. The world around you fell away, as you rekindled that fire that had not been burned in so long.

It did not take long for clothing to start coming off, shirts being removed first from the both of you as you lay on top of her. You pull her pants off so she’s in her undergarments only, slotting your knee between her pretty thighs until it comes in contact with her pussy that was pounding with a rush of pleasure. In no time, she begins to whimper, rubbing herself against you as your parted mouth swallows her moans. She looked so beautiful like this, caught in a desperate longing for more of you and no matter how hard she tried, she could never resist you.

“S-s’thandwa,” she stuttered, clearly nearing her peak as her movements grew more frantic. But you pulled yourself away from her, a sly smirk spreading across your face as you pushed her closer to the edge of madness.

“Want you to finish inside me,” you coaxed, whimpers caught in the back of your throat as you felt the warmth between your thighs flutter in ache. And that was all the confirmation she needed. She flipped you around with her vampire speed, testing the waters to see if you were ok and you were. She smiles and kisses your nose before she goes down to your mouth which quickly becomes the valley between your breasts before she wraps her mouth equally around each sensitive nipple.

“Please.” You struggled to hold back the subtle urge to beg, but being deprived of her touch for so long made your body impatient, eager to know what she had planned to do with it.

“Are we begging already, nkosazana?,” she teased with that amused expression that always had your heart pounding and it made you so embarrassed because you just knew she could hear it. You shook your head in challenge, trying to calm your whines but as soon as you felt her remove your bottoms, all the thin patience withered away. She kissed your inner thighs, plush lips meeting the scars she left from that day she marked you there and your chest was heaving.

“You should see how fucking wet you are right now…all because you need my touch that bad?”

“B-baby…please.”

“Use that mouth you love to run so much, princess. Tell me what you want.”

She inhaled your scent before planting soft kisses to the swell of your clit and your body trembled at the touch. But you knew she was not going any further until you spoke.

“Need you, baby…I want you inside me…please.”

“That’s a good girl. My needy little princess.” You nodded, because that is exactly who you were.

Your girlfriend smiles at you, her eyes dancing as they meet your desperate gaze. Shuri rose to her feet, abs all on display before removing her boxers and reaching for the vibranium toy she adored using on you. Shuri wasted no time, her eagerness clear as she longed to stretch your tight pussy walls. She grabs hold of your jaw, pressing her lips firmly against yours with sincere passion before she holds her shaft and pushes it into your leaking hole, your pulsing walls welcoming her in with ease while you both let out the filthiest moans into each other's mouths.

“I missed you, I missed you and your pussy so fucking much,” she whispered, her pace quickening as your cries grew louder. Your body shuddered violently against hers, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, which made you squirm beneath her. Shuri's love for you was overbearing, and you felt the same for her. You longed for this moment to last forever. She dreamed of the days where she no longer had to be a vampire's gentle touch when having her sexual way with you, imagining how wonderful sex would be when she could fully express her body’s need for yours without the fear of breaking you.

“Just wait until I turn you, nkosazana. I will fuck you so good without destroying you.”

“You could do it now,” you playfully replied through your heavy panting. “F-fuck me like a true vampire right now…I d-don’t care if you b-break me.”

“You are fucking crazy, s’thandwa sam.”

“You love it though.”

“Yeah…yes I do, baby.”

You could only whimper in response, your eyes glistening with want and desire as she continued to push into you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your first orgasm. Or your second. Or even your third. You missed her deeply, and your pussy ached for her even more. Yet Shuri didn't pause, her thrusting never haltered because she knew that her favorite part was a few strokes away. She relished in overstimulating you, watching as your body quivered, breasts bouncing as you struggled to be good for her. And your girlfriend could always tell when you were; the way your eyes would go glossy, your lips pouting as you breathing picked up, grappling to put coherent words together. And you did it all for her. That was what she cherished most…the way you fought against the overwhelming pleasuree because of your love for her.

A tear escaped your eye and Shuri brushed it away with the pad of her thumb.

“Awww, my poor baby. Look at you…you're so helpless.”

“Sh-Shuri…”

“Yes?”

“W-want your c-cum inside me. P-please. Unh.”

“I’m right behind you s’thandwa, do not w-worry.”

She kept going, not too fast because she knew you were overstimulated, but enough to allow you to maintain it and bring you both to the finish line. Your orgasm washed over you like tidal waves do, an intense surge of pleasure that left you both breathless and disoriented. Every nerve in your body seemed to ignite, it was an explosion from within that had nowhere to land and your mind could only think of one thing: how you desired this, desired her more than you ever wanted anything else in your entire being. You could not wait any longer. Not another week, or day, or even another hour. You needed this, now and infinitely.

“I want you,” you whispered with big, doe eyes. Your voice trembled as tears clung to your dark, damp lashes streaked with the evidence of your longing. She put her fingers in her mouth, salivating those dangerous fingers of hers before bringing them down your body to circle your puffy clit and your body jerked up. Oh, how she loved to see you like this.

“Mhmm, keep going.”

“I want you forever, Sh-Shuri. Right here. Right now.”

She wore a look of confusion, her brows furrowing as she continued to rub you. She was right here with you and had no intention of leaving, but you proceeded with your unfinished statement.

“Turn me, baby. Please. Today. Now.”

She said nothing, only looked down at your plump lips and your round breasts. You were so beautiful in her eyes, and she wanted all of you.

“Princess—“

“No…I mean it. I want you. F-fuck…I w-want to be a v-vampire…with you. Oh.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I do.”

“Who am I to you?” She slowed her movements on your clit, her strap still lingering inside you as she awaited your words. You whimpered one last time before you inhaled to speak.

“You are the most fucking selfish being I’ve ever met. You want what you want and you go after it. You get angry quickly and I know you live everyday fighting the urge to suck every ounce of blood inside of me and it scares me sometimes when I really think about it but I also know you’ll never hurt me. I know you’re hurt and I know you carry a lot of pain and anger inside of you, Shuri. And I know you try to hide it from me to protect me but your transparency only makes me want you more, no matter how dark your past is. I know you love me and I truly do believe that because I’ve never felt this before. I never felt so wanted and desired beyond what I look like on the outside. And maybe I’m just as selfish as you, because no matter how many people you’ve hurt or how many lives you’ve taken, you love me. And that’s all I care about. And now I just want to be with you for eternity.”

As the words fell from your lips, a wave of warmth surged through Shuri’s undead heart and she swears she felt it beat for a second. Each word and syllable echoed through her vampire mind, a mind that knew loneliness and despair like no other but in came you, the light at the end of the tunnel and she swears she could die from how much she loved you.

"Turn me," you repeated one last time, your voice carrying a soft insistence rather than a question. You caught a fleeting change in the color of Shuri's eyes, though she quickly masked it but you definitely noticed the subtle shift.

She returns her love to your clit, pulling you into your final human orgasm before she pulls out of you and you leak everywhere.

“I love you so so so much, y/n. More than anything in the world. More than I ever loved anyone before and I did not think I was capable of loving harder than I already have, but you, my most perfect girl, have proved me wrong.”

“I know Shuri…I know.” And you believed it.

“And you’re sure you want this? You want it right now? There is no turning back. This is permanent. This is for as long as eternity lasts for us. I don’t think you think you quite understand the meaning of immortality. ”

“And I never will if you don’t give it to me.” You reached up to cup her face, taking her in as you actively appreciated the pain of your beating heart. You could sense that these would be the last moments you could feel the patter against your ribcage, feel the breath entering your lungs, and the last moment you would feel at a human level before your emotions exploded like any immortal would.

Shuri removes her strap, so there’s nothing between your two beautiful dark naked bodies, holding you in her arms as a tear caresses her cheek.

“What’s wrong, my love?,” you questioned.

“Nothing is wrong…I’m just scared.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of. I believe in you. You can do this. You love me enough to stop.”

“But what if I don’t stop? I would not be able to live with myself…what if I hurt you??”

You gazed up at her with a look of sympathy, fully aware of how difficult this moment was for her but your belief in her remained unwavering. Gently, you drew her closer and pressed your lips to hers in a tender kiss before speaking.

“Then I’ll die happily in the arms of the one I love.”

Shuri's grin widened as she drew you in for one last, fervent kiss; a final, passionate exchange between human and vampire. This was the last moment you shared as a mere mortal before her fangs emerged, her irises shifting to the deepest red you had ever seen and you smiled at what was to come.

She leaned her head into the curve of your throat, pressing a soft kiss there before positioning her fangs above your artery, which seemed destined for her bite. Then, you felt it; her fangs piercing your skin with a depth that was unfamiliar and excruciating. Her bite wasn’t the bite of sexual pleasure or even to satiate her thirst; this was a transformative pain, a profound shift as she began to mold you into something like her.

You clung to her curls, tilting your head back to embrace the searing pain and the sensation of your life ebbing away with every second. Shuri reveled in the intimacy of the moment, her moans vibrating against your throat as your blood flowed into her. As you approached the brink of nothingness, stars danced in your fading vision, and death almost seemed to beckon with open arms. Almost. For a moment, there was nothing. No sensation, no sight, just darkness as you drifted into unconsciousness.

But then, you tasted it: Shuri’s blood. It was rich with power and possibility, a final, potent essence that completed your transition. As your life slipped away, all that remained was the true void, the absolute nothingness as your life faded away from you.

A few moments had passed and Shuri began to worry.

“Y/n…? Y/n…can you hear me??”

But you remained silent. Your mind ceased to think, your lungs no longer drew in air, and your heart fell still. You were dead.

“Oh…oh fuck…no, no, no, no, no…Y/N!! Baby, can you hear me?? Do not joke with me right now…please wake up!”

You were still. Nothing. Lifeless.

Shuri broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, her hand pressed to her mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the convulsive cries tearing through her throat. How could this be? She had done everything right this time. She was certain she hadn’t killed you; she had felt your heart faintly beating when she gave you her blood. What could have possibly gone wrong?

“I am so sorry, baby…I’m so sorry, I should have never come into your life! I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU ALONE!! I’m so sorry, so sorry, so so sorry!”

Her sobs turned into a furious outburst as she began to tear apart her house, shattering everything in her way while she wrestled with her own existence. Overwhelmed by guilt and despair, she felt she could never forgive herself for what had happened. Consumed by the conviction that life without you was meaningless, she was determined to end it all.

But…

Gradually, life began to draw you out of the void. Memories of your entire existence, from infancy to the present, surged before you in a torrent of vivid images, both the good and the bad. The light at the end of the tunnel grew nearer and nearer until, suddenly, it stopped. You were there. You were here. Your eyes flew open in panic, and the first thing that hit you like an excruciating ton of bricks was the one thing that made you understand what Shuri fought so hard to keep you away from, an overpowering wave of something you never knew but your body understood: the smell of blood. ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Twilight who????? If you actually read that whole thing, I love you so much omg! I hope you enjoyed and don’t forget to comment and share (why do I sound like a YouTuber), I absolutely love reading your comments! Thank you so so much again, for your patience, I know it was a long as wait and I hope it was worth it :)

[shisasan]

Picking a single favourite quote might be an impossible task so which quote (or quotes) do you seem to come back to more often than others?

Picking a single favorite quote might truly be an impossible task because there are so many brilliant writers out there whose words have deeply influenced my life. These extraordinary souls have breathed new life into me when I was ready to give up on everything. Without any particular order, these quotes are not intended to enlighten or educate anyone but offer a brief insight into the words I turn to for comfort, inspiration, or understanding when I'm not at my highest self.

I'll begin with my most dearest Hermann Hesse, whom I like to call my Alpha and Omega. He transformed my life from a young age, opening mysterious portals to other worlds and making me feel deeply understood, embraced, with a true sense of belonging. His writing not only awakened my mind to new realms of thought and emotion but also offered immense solace and companionship through his exploration of the human spirit:

"A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal, and sterile life."

"I have always thirsted for knowledge, I have always been full of questions."

"We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness."

Rainer Maria Rilke, a beautiful and tender infinite soul, whose writings deeply resonate with the complexities of the human condition and the relentless quest for understanding:

"I am dark, I am forest."

"I grow strong in the beauty you behold. And with the silence of stars, I enfold your cities made by time."

"Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

Novalis, who occupies a cherished place in my heart for his poetic and deeply insightful exploration of life and love.

"We are eternal because we love each other."

"I often feel, and ever more deeply I realize, that fate and character are the same conception."

"Sometimes with the most intense pain a paralysis of sensibility occurs. The soul disintegrates—hence the deadly frost—the free power of the mind—the shattering, ceaseless wit of this kind of despair. There is no inclination for anything anymore—the person is alone, like a baleful power—as he has no connection with the rest of the world he consumes himself gradually—and in accordance with his own principle he is—misanthropic and misotheos."

Egon Schiele, whose intense and raw portrayal of human emotion and beauty has deeply moved me, revealing the unfiltered essence of the human experience.

"I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment at moldy garden fences, I want to experience them all, to hear young birch plantations and trembling leaves, to see light and sun, enjoy wet, green-blue valleys in the evening, sense goldfish glinting, see white clouds building up in the sky, to speak to flowers. I want to look intently at grasses and pink people, old venerable churches, to know what little cathedrals say, to run without stopping along curving meadowy slopes across vast plains, kiss the earth and smell soft warm marshland flowers. And then I shall shape things so beautifully: fields of colour…"

Anaïs Nin, a force of nature and embodiment of feminine strength, whose deep exploration of inner life and boundless creativity has left an indelible impression on me. Her work continues to inspire and challenge me to embrace the fullness of my inner world:

"She was colour, brilliance, strangeness."

"I have the power to multiply myself. I am not one woman."

"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous."

"I can only connect deeply, or not at all."

Carl Gustav Jung, one of the most brilliant psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, and empiricists in history. Jung's exploration of the collective unconscious and shadow self has offered me invaluable tools for self-awareness and personal development. His legacy continues to inspire and guide those seeking to understand the depths of the mind and the path to self-discovery.

"A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them. As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."

"People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

"The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the maddening genius with profound understanding of human nature and morality:

"If you want to overcome the whole world, overcome yourself."

"People speak sometimes about the 'bestial' cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel."

"People. People. Endless noise. And I am so tired. And I would like to sleep under trees; red ones, blue ones, swirling passionate ones."

"I exist. In thousands of agonies—I exist."

"If there is no God, everything is permitted."

Virginia Woolf, a literary giant whose deep introspection and exploration of the human condition have left an indelible mark:

"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself."

"What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."

"I want to raise up the magic world all around me and live strongly and quietly there."

"Reality? Reality has never been enough for me."

Mikhail Bulgakov, a masterful writer and playwright, another troubled soul who faced censorship and persecution in his lifetime, with immense talent and a deep soul, fascinated me with his imaginary worlds that blend reality with fantastical elements, feeling both familiar and boundlessly expansive:

"But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light?"

"Kindness. The only possible method when dealing with a living creature. You'll get nowhere with an animal if you use terror, no matter what its level of development may be. That I have maintained, do maintain and always will maintain. People who think you can use terror are quite wrong. No, no, terror is useless, whatever its colour – white, red or even brown! Terror completely paralyses the nervous system."

"Everything passes away - suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadows of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the Earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"

"There are no evil people in the world, only unhappiness disguised as evil."

And then there is indispensable Franz Kafka. Although I have shifted away from his writing in recent years and no longer resonate with it as much, he was a dear friend and frequent company during my darkest, loneliest, and most challenging times. His work, full of raw honesty and insight, offered a kind of companionship that felt both intimate and enduring:

"The way he can risk everything and risks nothing, because there is nothing but truth in him already, a truth that even in the face of the contradictory impressions of the moment will justify itself as such when the crucial time arrives. The calm self-possession. The slow pace that neglects nothing. The immediate readiness, when it is needed, not sooner, for long in advance he sees everything that is coming."

"I, for the most part silent, had nothing to say; among such people the war doesn’t call forth in me the slightest opinion worth expressing."

"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet." Of course, there are many more authors who deserve to be on this list, but I chose these because they have touched my life in ways that are both unique and deeply personal. I hope that at least some of you will read to the end and find a bit of inspiration and insight in these quotes, just as they have given me. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. 🌹

[nkjemisin]

Hey there. I'm writing a story set in New York City and am not American. I have few characters, but most of them are arab or white. I can't help but feel a bit wrong about it, given that America is much more diverse than that, and NYC being an emblem of that. Do you think I should force myself to include more representation or should I just tell my story, and leave that more diverse cast to some other story I could write? I know this is a neverending debate and there are many opinions about it, but I've always agreed with everything you've said in matters of representation in fiction, and so I'd be curious to know your personal answer on it.

I'm a little confused by how you're using "representation," here. It sounds like you think representation = "randomly sticking BIPOC everywhere." I think when most people use that word, it means something more like "create an accurate or at least plausible depiction of a group or place." In actual New York, there are plenty of Middle Easterners and white people who live in relatively homogeneous small communities where they might only see someone of a different ethnicity on the subway. If your story is set in one of those communities -- and you do stick some random BIPOC in that subway scene, because that's plausible -- then it sounds like your characters might be an example of good representation.

(Note: if you're not writing something set in the real world, but it features human beings, it needs to represent humanity as a whole, unless there's a good in-world reason not to. But if it's our world? You can get specific.)

Here's the catch, tho: plausibility is relative. If you've absorbed some biases and haven't done enough research, then you might end up writing something that feels plausible to you, but which isn't actually representative or plausible to anyone else. The way to avoid this is to do the research and check (to the best of your ability) your biases. For example, you aren't American, I assume you've at least visited NYC? If not, you should. You can visit some of the communities I mentioned! You can eat in restaurants, visit mosques, have conversations with actual real people who are living the life you're writing about! If you don't have the time, money, or spoons to do that, there are other ways to do good research -- films and YT/Tiktok videos made by people from the communities in question, for example. But you'd need to watch a lot of them to get a good representative sample.

I recommend this book to all the writing students I've taught at Clarion, and other writer workshops: Writing the Other, by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward. There's a particular part of it that seems relevant here, which is a kind of hierarchy of "appropriate" appropriation, I think first mentioned by Diantha Day Sprouse but included in Writing the Other. Basically it says that if you want to write about a culture that isn't your own, you can learn about that culture in one of several ways: a) You can be an Invader, and just go take whatever intellectual and artistic tidbits from that culture that you want, regardless of how damaging this might be to members of that group. Example: non-Indigenous people who write about actual secret practices, or who encourage the desecration of sacred places. b) You can be a Tourist, in which you're still mooching from that culture, but at least you're figuratively paying someone for it and accepting tidbits that the culture has chosen to sell. Example: getting a sensitivity reader. Or c) you can be an Invited Guest, who brings in as much as they take out, and who has formed relationships that are beneficial to all involved. Example: being part of an exchange program, both as a student and later as a host, and maintaining those friendships outside of the program.

The goal is to be an IG, but that isn't always possible. Tourist is still better than being an Invader. (...I feel like I'm leaving out a category. It's been a while since I read the book; any more recent readers want to check me here?) But the closer you can get to actually participating in that culture, the more your work will be informed by reality instead of biases or misinformation, and the more likely your work will read as plausible not just to you, but to your widest possible audience -- people familiar with the culture and people who aren't.

(I'm a little concerned about your phrasing of "force myself to include more representation," note. Why would that need to be a forced thing? A writer's goal should be to write something that feels lived-in and authentic to [if it's a real place] most people's experience -- not to meet some arbitrary standard, but because that's how you master immersion and characterization. If good immersion and characterization feel forced to you right now, that suggests you need more practice. I recommend writing short stories!)

[ikeoji-subs]

Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 5 Eng Sub

VS THE START OF A ROMANCE and VS HELPING

For downloading instructions and where to find the raw files, please check our masterpost.

[Subs link]

We ask that you not upload our subs to streaming sites.

Sharing with friends is fine. We’re also OK with folks sharing them in other ways as long as they aren’t public. Please use discretion when talking about the fansub outside of tumblr, but don’t hesitate to get the word out in other ways, and feel free to promote it here. Please credit ikeoji-subs whenever possible—we put a lot of time and effort into this.

Feel free to use the fansub for fandom purposes. Gif-making, meta-writing, and other fandom-related creative endeavors made using our fansub are not only welcome but encouraged.

Thank you so much, as always, to everyone who has left nice comments in the tags and such. Y'all really make the hard work we put into this worthwhile!

And big big thanks to @my-rose-tinted-glasses for gifs and spreading the word about the fansub.

translation notes:

About “naresome”

As tends to happen when translating Japanese, this is one of those words that don’t exist in English. Its literal translation is “the start of a romance.” So, while we’ve chosen to translate it as “get together,” it would be more accurate to give a more extensive explanation. It is a noun that specifically refers to the moment that love begins. So when we’re talking about “naresome” we’re talking about the thing or situation that triggered the romantic relationship or romantic feelings.–Snow

about casting Tominaga Yuya as a guy who gets busy when it rains

I think this is another tokusatsu Easter egg. Tominaga Yuya, who plays Jouji in the “Vs. The Start of a Relationship” chapter, was also on Avataro Sentai DonBrothers, a Super Sentai series that ran from 2022 to 2023. His character, Sonoi, was the agent of a culture from another plane of existence whose members feed off of the brainwaves of human beings. At first, he and his associates Sonoza and Sononi were enemies of the DonBrothers, but they eventually joined forces with the Sentai. A big reason this happened was that Sonoi had a special connection to the leader of the DonBrothers, Momoi Tarou. Their relationship reads as pretty darned queer to a lot of viewers, myself included.

Momoi Tarou and Sonoi bonding, before they found out they were nemeses

Many JBL fans know Higuchi Kouhei from My Personal Weatherman/Taikan Yoho, in which he played the titular meteorologist, Segasaki. Part of the premise of that series is that at the start of the story, Higuchi’s character only has sex with his partner on sunny days. Jouji, Tominaga’s Zettai BL character, does the opposite: he and his “sex friend” only do it on rainy days. 

Basically, the writers of Zettai BL 3 have made Higuchi’s toku boyfriend’s story into a reverse Taikan Yoho situation. What are the odds that’s just a coincidence?–Towel

Also, he gets his own “Zettai BL” title card moment (and he’s the only one out of the secondary cast who get to have that).–Snow

That’s right!

I’m going to put this in context a little because I’ve given a lot of thought (probably too much) to who’s been featured in the opening credits of the different Zettai BL seasons. For every season of the show so far, Inukai Atsuhiro has had four other actors perform with him in the opening theme dance number. (All of whom also get a crack at some of those title card moments.) For two seasons, three of the four spots were taken up by Yutaro (Ayato), Shiono Akihisa (Toujou), and Itou Asahi (Kikuchi). The fourth spot was taken up by different actors in the first two seasons. It was the guy who played the attractive dude from the goukon in the first season, and it was Izuka Kenta, who played Kikuchi’s ex Igarashi, in the second. 

This time around, I had hoped that Sekoguchi Ryo would take the fourth spot, because he’s my blorbo and of course I wanted to see him in a retro dance number (boy was that wish ever granted!). But I hadn’t expected Shiono not to appear this time. Maybe there were specific reasons for this, like a scheduling conflict or an injury. It’s not like Shiono appears less in season 3 than he did in the others, so that’s not the reason. It’s hard to say. But in that context, it seems even more significant that they gave a spot to Tominaga Yuya. We don’t know the reasons for this. But it’s possible they featured him more heavily in this way because of his tokusatsu backstory and the inside joke it allowed them to make.–Towel

about “pudding relationship” and “prince and princess”

This part was tricky to translate. As you might have noticed by this point, Mob likes to make puns. In Japanese, pudding is written as “purin” and it is used to refer to pudding as well as custard. Mob goes on to follow with “prince and princess”, which in Japanese are pronounced as “purinsu” and “purinsesu”. In here, there’s wordplay with these similar sounding words and the image of the ToujouAyato couple.–Snow  

about “cuteness overload”

Japanese is a language that uses a lot of onomatopoeia. There’s 4 types, iirc: animal sounds, object sounds (like rain, creaking and the like), things that don’t make noise (smiles, stares, silence, etc), verbs turned onomatopoeia (I unfortunately cannot remember this properly but it was something like that). In this case, Mob says “Kyun ga tomaranai” (which literally means “the kyun can’t be stopped”). “Kyun” is an onomatopoeic word to refer to a “momentary tightening of one's chest caused by powerful feelings,” usually tied to a romantic context but not exclusively. Taking this into account, we thought “cuteness overload” might be the closest expression in English.–Snow

It’s worth noting that Mob is also saying “kyun” right after the “cuteness overload” line. I really thought at first that he was saying “cute,” since it sounds so similar, it would make a lot of sense contextually, and English loan words are so common in Japanese. But no, it was “kyun.” There was no way we could get across the meaning of “kyun” in one or two syllables of English, so we went with “adorbs,” which is just another word for “cute,” but at least it has a cutesy pronunciation that steps it up a notch.–Towel

about bouhan buzzers (16:06)

The translation note shown onscreen during this scene reads: “a bouhan buzzer is a security gadget carried by Japanese schoolchildren.” We did our best to summarize the meaning of this term briefly, so that it would be readable in the amount of time it was possible for us to keep that caption onscreen. But here’s a longer explanation for those who might be curious. 

It took a while for me to understand what these things were. At first I pictured something like a hand buzzer–the kind that people used to use to prank people. But it’s nothing like that. They’re sometimes referred to as “personal security alarms.” They’re little doodads that you can clip onto a backpack or carry in your pocket, and if you activate them (the most common mechanism for which seems to be pulling some kind of tab or string), they make some form of alarm-type sound. I found a video, below, that shows someone activating two different types of buzzers, showing the sound they make. 

These two make the same sort of beeping/chirping noises you’d associate with an alarm protecting a car or the entrance to a building–not really a “buzzing” sound, or anything that resembles the sound Mr. Cheerleader makes in this scene. But maybe there are other types that are more buzz-like, or sound more like the sound our buddy is imitating. 

According to some things I read when I looked these up, children often play with their bouhan buzzers, making it somewhat less likely that people will be on alert when they hear them go off. I don’t think I could have resisted setting off a gadget like this if I’d had one as a child. They seem to be available with all sorts of characters on them and in all sorts of colors and shapes, which is cool but might make them seem even more toy-like. 

From what I’ve seen, these things are most commonly used by children, but adults sometimes use them too. If you look for them for sale online, there are more adult-looking versions available (say, a rose-gold blob instead of something with cute characters on it–though of course, adults might want those too). One listing I saw advertised that they’re useful for kids, women, and the elderly.–Towel

Tag list: @absolutebl @bengiyo @c1nto @come-back-serotonin @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @porridgefeast @sorry-bonebag @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Do you have any tips for ADHD writers, especially for motivation and getting WIPs done?

Outlines don't work for me like 99% of the time, so outside of some worldbuilding/character notes and such, I just pants my way through my stories for the most part.

Tips for Writers with ADHD: How to Stay Motivated and Outline Stories

I actually am a writer with ADHD myself, so I completely understand. I tried my best to give you good insight on how you can write a story with ADHD (also tried to make it sound as professional as possible.)

Writing can be a challenging task for anyone, but for those of us with ADHD, it can feel like an insurmountable mountain to climb. Staying focused, motivated, and organized can be a constant struggle. However, being a writer with ADHD also comes with its own unique set of strengths. In this blog post, I'll help you explore some practical tips and strategies to help ADHD writers stay motivated, outline their stories, and unleash their creative potential.

Living with ADHD means that our minds are constantly buzzing with ideas, making it challenging to stay on track and follow through on our writing goals. However, with the right tools and mindset, we can harness our creative energy and turn it into a powerful force for storytelling. So, let's dive in and discover how we can thrive as ADHD writers.

Disclaimer: Remember that everyone's experience with ADHD is unique, and not all strategies may work for everyone. It's essential to find what works best for you and adapt these tips to fit your individual needs.

Embracing Your ADHD Superpowers

Living with ADHD is often seen as a disadvantage, but it's crucial to reframe our perspective and recognize the unique strengths that come with it. As ADHD writers, we possess a natural ability to think outside the box, make connections others might miss, and generate innovative ideas. Embracing these superpowers can fuel our creativity and make our writing stand out.

One of the most significant strengths of ADHD writers is our hyperfocus. While it may be challenging to concentrate on mundane tasks, when something truly captivates our interest, we can enter a state of hyperfocus where time seems to vanish. Use this to your advantage by creating a writing environment that sparks your curiosity and allows you to immerse yourself in your story.

Another superpower we possess is our ability to think quickly and make connections. Our minds are constantly jumping from one idea to another, which can be overwhelming at times. However, this unique thought process can be a goldmine for storytelling. Use it to your advantage by allowing your thoughts to flow freely during the outlining process. Don't be afraid to explore different angles and possibilities.

Lastly, ADHD writers often have a heightened sense of empathy and emotional intelligence. We are incredibly perceptive when it comes to understanding complex emotions and human behavior. This can be a powerful tool when crafting realistic and relatable characters. Draw on your own experiences and observations to breathe life into your fictional creations.

Cultivating Motivation and Consistency

ADHD writers often struggle with maintaining motivation and consistency in their writing practice. We may start projects with great enthusiasm, only to lose interest or become overwhelmed as time goes on. However, there are several techniques we can employ to cultivate motivation and stay on track.

Set small, achievable goals to create a sense of accomplishment. Break down your writing tasks into manageable chunks, whether it's writing a certain number of words each day or completing a specific scene. Celebrate each milestone, no matter how small, and use it as fuel to keep going.

Create a structured writing routine to establish a sense of consistency. Our ADHD brains thrive on routine and predictability. Designate a specific time and place for writing, and make it a non-negotiable part of your daily life. Over time, your brain will associate this routine with creativity and focus, making it easier to get into the writing mindset.

Find an accountability partner or join a writing group. Sharing your progress with others can provide an extra layer of motivation and support. Whether it's a writing buddy who checks in with you regularly or a critique group that offers feedback, the sense of community can keep you motivated and inspired.

Outlining Strategies for ADHD Writers

ADHD writers often struggle with organizing their thoughts and creating a coherent structure for their stories. However, outlining can be a powerful tool to bring order to the creative chaos and provide a roadmap for your writing journey.

Start with a brainstorming session. Let your ideas flow freely without judgment. Write down every thought, character, and plot point that comes to mind. Don't worry about organizing them just yet - the goal is to capture the essence of your story.

Once you have a wealth of ideas, it's time to categorize and organize them. Create a visual representation of your story using tools like mind maps or index cards. This allows you to see the connections between different elements and identify any gaps or inconsistencies.

Use a flexible outlining approach that suits your ADHD brain. Traditional linear outlines may not work for everyone. Consider using non-linear methods like the "snowflake method" or the "puzzle piece method." These approaches allow you to work on different sections of your story simultaneously, keeping your mind engaged and preventing boredom.

Conclusion

Being a writer with ADHD certainly presents its challenges, but it also brings a unique set of strengths and talents. By embracing our superpowers, cultivating motivation and consistency, and employing effective outlining strategies, we can overcome the obstacles and unleash our full creative potential. Remember, there is no one-size-fits-all approach, so experiment with different techniques and find what works best for you. With perseverance and a little bit of creativity, you can become a successful writer, ADHD and all.

[strangesmallbard]

i’m seeing such takes about the baby lmao. smiling happy shauna with her living baby was in the dream world—the same eerie dream world that offered jackie warm cocoa and the acceptance of her best friend, that ghost laura lee/the Wilderness made sure lottie left. we don’t know a lot about the dream world, but we know it offers warmth, nourishment, and simplicity. cloth mother, if you will. (there’s a connection between the dream world + accepting nourishment + death that someone pointed out already, but i’m pivoting away from there right now.)

but like, we never see shauna with a living baby in the real world, trying to feed him in the freezing woods, knowing she cannibalized her best friend’s corpse for the chance that he would live. we also haven’t seen her recovering from the first birth—she could very well still get postpartum depression. in-between scenes of the dream world and the birth, however, we do see shauna as a parent to a living child; she’s resentful, she’s full of guilt all the time, she loves callie but never wanted to be a mother. it comes down to that.

shauna is an 18 year old who just gave birth to a dead baby in the most traumatic circumstances. she never really processed the fact that she’s giving birth to an entire human child. there’s also some fucky supernatural shit afoot. i think it’s perfectly aligned with what we know about shauna—and like, birth hormones—for shauna to be devastated when taissa hands her a dead baby. she didn’t want him, but he’s dead and she almost died, and she feels like not wanting this baby literally killed him. she would have likely had a real abortion back home. this is literally traumatic stress.

i feel like i’m repeating myself, but i keep seeing posts that deride yellowjackets for having shauna express any love for that baby as if the writers are promoting tradcath motherhood, when the show literally shows the psychological ramifications of forced birth. i do wish there was slightly more body horror (side note: if you’re craving a body horror take on pregnancy, i highly recommend the new dead ringers remake) but tl;dr yellowjackets is definitely not writing a story where shauna meeting her baby would have inspired a newfound love of motherhood, stopping her resentment or any other negative emotions. the supernatural elements + the adult shauna scenes work in tandem to create a pretty nuanced depiction of birth, motherhood, and all the complexities therein.

(i’m also hesitant to equate feelings about fiction to feelings about real life situations, but i do think it’s uhhhh. a bit callous? to go “yayyy no more pregnancy arc i hate babies! shauna should be more relieved smh” like we recognize how traumatized these girlies are but won’t extend that to shauna and childbirth? hmm)

[boxeom]

On a serious note, Jujutsu Kaisen will always have an incredibly special place in my heart. It had some of the deepest, most beautifully written and loveable characters I've had the pleasure of following the journey of. It's a story about some of the purest forms of love I think I've ever witnessed in fiction. It had the nuance of nature versus nurture, the dangers and downfall of greed, criticism of conservatism and traditionalism and the harmful impact both ideals force upon the new generations, the awareness of mental health and trauma, and (to me) most importantly; what it means to be human. There's so much within Jujutsu Kaisen that made it stand out so heavily among its peers, but for me and for many, the greatest part of JJK was its cast. From Yūji to Mahito from Gojo to Sukuna, Gege's characters (when they had their relevance) were (somewhat) consistently phenomenal and understandable in their actions as well as their writing. Each had their own uniqueness, development, and detail that will continue to impress me both as a writer and a lover of stories.

The potential of this series is something that I have been and always will be very adamant about, but it just couldn't stick it out to the end and that's been an obvious outcome for some time (though many seem to be in denial of that). It's frustrating to see something I've loved so deeply and for so long struggle to find its footing and eventually lose it entirely. The most upsetting part of JJK as it began to decline in both consistency and quality of storytelling was the shift from character focus to combat and story "progression". For myself and others who share my opinion, the Culling Games was the beginning of the end.

To me, this is a case of an artist and storyteller being heavily overworked and burned out without having the proper time to recover and regain passion for their creation- which is a very common theme when it comes to mangaka involved with Shounen Jump (but also any artist to ever exist). Gege's exhaustion is very clear throughout the later half of the series and I can't blame them for it. I only wish for Gege to find their love for creating again- however long that may take. Gege is an extremely skilled storyteller and I look forward to anything they make in the future. I've met wonderful people and have seen beautiful art, creativity, and dedication come from this fandom and that will always be the most important thing to come out of something that ends. Though this ending is very disappointing, my love of JJK is still strong and that will never go away.

Thank you Jujutsu Kaisen and thank you, Gege Akutami. 🙇🏽‍♀️

[bettsfic]

Do you have any writing tips for newbies?

i only have one, and that's to change your perception of a project. nearly all writers approach their work with the goal to Complete A Thing. and for fiction writers, that makes sense: a completed narrative is one with an inciting incident, rising and falling action, a resolution, and a denouement. when the story is over, the project is over.

but that's not what a project is, and if you approach writing with the attitude of, "i'm going to write a novel," you'll struggle at best or outright fail at worst. finishing a story is an intermediate skill. finishing a story well is an advanced one. don't worry about completing anything until you come across a story that forces you to finish it.

you'll improve most by creating studies in discrete craft concepts. approach a piece of writing as a study in developing character, a study in setting, a study in the style of your favorite author. and when you focus on that thing, give up everything else. if you're studying character, fuck conflict. if you're learning how to build setting, feel free to begin every sentence with "there was." the focus is setting, not style.

every successful thing i've written began as a study in something. the story i wrote that got me into a bunch of residencies and a PhD program began as a study in similes. my first published piece began as a study in modernizing a short story i read that had been published in the 80s. my most recent successful story began as a study in widening narrative access. the novel i just finished began as a simple character study, because i'd never really allowed myself to do that before.

when you're drawing in a sketchbook, the goal isn't usually to make a whole-ass picture. the goal is to draw a hundred eyes, or hands in different positions, or your own face over and over again. when you're learning to dance or fight or any other athletic thing, you have to practice the steps and basic skills first. we take writing for granted in that we conflate basic literacy with writing skill, and because storytelling is one of the most innate aspects of being a human, many people tend to approach it from the wrong direction.

but by approaching writing as a series of studies in specific craft elements, you approach it with questions rather than answers. the stakes remain low--the goal is no longer to make something good, but to learn a skill that you can take with you to your next, hopefully even better, piece.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Richard R John’s “Network Nation”

THIS SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

The telegraph and the telephone have a special place in the history and future of competition and Big Tech. After all, they were the original tech monopolists. Every discussion of tech and monopoly takes place in their shadow.

Back in 2010, Tim Wu published The Master Switch, his bestselling, wildly influential history of "The Bell System" and the struggle to de-monopolize America from its first telecoms barons:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/11/01/the-master-switch-tim-net-neutrality-wu-explains-whats-at-stake-in-the-battle-for-net-freedom/

Wu is a brilliant writer and theoretician. Best known for coining the term "Net Neutrality," Wu went on to serve in both the Obama and Biden administrations as a tech trustbuster. He accomplished much in those years. Most notably, Wu wrote the 2021 executive order on competition, laying out a 72-point program for using existing powers vested in the administrative agencies to break up corporate power and get the monopolist's boot off Americans' necks:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

The Competition EO is basically a checklist, and Biden's agency heads have been racing down it, ticking off box after box on or ahead of schedule, making meaningful technical changes in how companies are allowed to operate, each one designed to make material improvements to the lives of Americans.

A decade and a half after its initial publication, Wu's Master Switch is still considered a canonical account of how the phone monopoly was built – and dismantled.

But somewhat lost in the shadow of The Master Switch is another book, written by the accomplished telecoms historian Richard R John: "Network Nation: Inventing American Telecommunications," published a year after The Master Switch:

https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674088139

Network Nation flew under my radar until earlier this year, when I found myself speaking at an antitrust conference where both John and Wu were also on the bill:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VNivXjrU3A

During John's panel – "Case Studies: AT&T & IBM" – he took a good-natured dig at Wu's book, claiming that Wu, not being an historian, had been taken in by AT&T's own self-serving lies about its history. Wu – also on the panel – didn't dispute it, either. That was enough to prick my interest. I ordered a copy of Network Nation and put it on my suitcase during my vacation earlier this month.

Network Nation is an extremely important, brilliantly researched, deep history of America's love/hate affair with not just the telephone, but also the telegraph. It is unmistakably as history book, one that aims at a definitive takedown of various neat stories about the history of American telecommunications. As Wu writes in his New Republic review of John's book:

Generally he describes the failure of competition not so much as a failure of a theory, but rather as the more concrete failure of the men running the competitors, many of whom turned out to be incompetent or unlucky. His story is more like a blow-by-blow account of why Germany lost World War II than a grand theory of why democracy is better than fascism.

https://newrepublic.com/article/88640/review-network-nation-richard-john-tim-wu

In other words, John thinks that the monopolies that emerged in the telegraph and then the telephone weren't down to grand forces that made them inevitable, but rather, to the errors made by regulators and the successful gambits of the telecoms barons. At many junctures, things could have gone another way.

So this is a very complicated story, one that uses a series of contrasts to make the point that history is contingent and owes much to a mix of random chance and the actions of flawed human beings, and not merely great economic or historical laws. For example, John contrasts the telegraph with the telephone, posing them against one another as a kind of natural experiment in different business strategies and regulatory responses.

The telegraph's early promoters, including Samuel Morse (as in "Morse code") believed that the natural way to roll out telegraph was via selling the patents to the federal government and having an agency like the post office operate it. There was a widespread view that the post office as a paragon of excellent technical management and a necessity for knitting together the large American nation. Moreover, everyone could see that when the post office partnered with private sector tech companies (like the railroads that became essential to the postal system), the private sector inevitably figured out how to gouge the American public, leading regulators to ever-more extreme measures to rein in the ripoffs.

The telegraph skated close to federalization on several occasions, but kept getting snatched back from the brink, ending up instead as a privately operated system that primarily served deep-pocketed business customers. This meant that telegraph companies were forever jostling to get the right to string wires along railroad tracks and public roads, creating a "political economy" that tried to balance out highway regulators and rail barons (or play them off against each other).

But the leaders of the telegraph companies were largely uninterested in "popularizing" the telegraph – that is, figuring out how ordinary people could use telegraphs in place of the hand-written letters that were the dominant form of long-distance communications at the time. By turning their backs on "popularization," telegraph companies largely freed themselves from municipal oversight, because they didn't need to get permission to string wires into every home in every major city.

When the telephone emerged, its inventors and investors initially conceived of it as a tool for business as well. But while the telegraph had ushered in a boom in instantaneous, long-distance communications (for example, by joining ports and distant cities where financiers bought and sold the ports' cargo), the telephone proved far more popular as a way of linking businesses within a city limits. Brokers and financiers and businesses that were only a few blocks from one another found the telephone to be vastly superior to the system of dispatching young boys to race around urban downtowns with slips bearing messages.

So from the start, the phone was much more bound up in city politics, and that only deepened with popularization, as phones worked their ways into the homes of affluent families and local merchants like druggists, who offered free phone calls to customers as a way of bringing trade through the door. That created a great number of local phone carriers, who had to fend off Bell's federally enforced patents and aldermen and city councilors who solicited bribes and favors.

To make things even more complex, municipal phone companies had to fight with other sectors that wanted to fill the skies over urban streets with their own wires: streetcar lines and electrical lines. The unregulated, breakneck race to install overhead wires led to an epidemic of electrocutions and fires, and also degraded service, with rival wires interfering with phone calls.

City politicians eventually demanded that lines be buried, creating another source of woe for telephone operators, who had to contend with private or quasi-private operators who acquired a monopoly over the "subways" – tunnels where all these wires eventually ended up.

The telegraph system and the telephone system were very different, but both tended to monopoly, often from opposite directions. Regulations that created some competition in telegraphs extinguished competition when applied to telephones. For example, Canada federalized the regulation of telephones, with the perverse effect that everyday telephone users in cities like Toronto had much less chance of influencing telephone service than Chicagoans, whose phone carrier had to keep local politicians happy.

Nominally, the Canadian Members of Parliament who oversaw Toronto's phone network were big leaguers who understood prudent regulation and were insulated from the daily corruption of municipal politics. And Chicago's aldermen were pretty goddamned corrupt. But Bell starved Toronto of phone network upgrades for years, while Chicago's gladhanding political bosses forced Chicago's phone company to build and build, until Chicago had more phone lines than all of France. Canadian MPs might have been more remote from rough-and-tumble politics, but that made them much less responsive to a random Torontonian's bitter complaint about their inability to get a phone installed.

As the Toronto/Chicago story illustrates, the fact that there were so many different approaches to phone service tried in the US and Canada gives John more opportunities to contrast different business-strategies and regulations. Again, we see how there was never one rule that governments could have used if they wanted to ensure that telecoms were well-run, widely accessible, and reasonably priced. Instead, it was always "horses for courses" – different rules to counter different circumstances and gambits from telecoms operators.

As John traces through the decades during which the telegraph and telephone were established in America, he draws heavily on primary sources to trace the ebb and flow of public and elite sentiment towards public ownership, regulation, and trustbusting. In John's hands, we see some of the most spectacular failures as more than a mismatch of regulatory strategy to corporate gambit – but rather as a mismatch of political will and corporate gambit. If a company's power would be best reined in by public ownership, but the political vogue is for regulation, then lawmakers end up trying to make rules for a company they should simply be buying giving to the post office to buy.

This makes John's history into a history of the Gilded Age and trustbusters. Notorious vulture capitalists like Jay Gould shocked the American conscience by declaring that businesses had no allegiance to the public good, and were put on this Earth to make as much money as possible no matter what the consequences. Gould repeated "raided" Western Union, acquiring shares and forcing the company to buy him out at a premium to end his harassment of the board and the company's managers.

By the time the feds were ready to buy out Western Union, Gould was a massive shareholder, meaning that any buyout of the telegraph would make Gould infinitely wealthier, at public expense, in a move that would have been electoral poison for the lawmakers who presided over it. In this highly contingent way, Western Union lived on as a private company.

Americans – including prominent businesspeople who would be considered "conservatives" by today's standards, were deeply divided on the question of monopoly. The big, successful networks of national telegraph lines and urban telephone lines were marvels, and it was easy to see how they benefited from coordinated management. Monopolists and their apologists weaponized this public excitement about telecoms to defend their monopolies, insisting that their achievement owed its existence to the absence of "wasteful competition."

The economics of monopoly were still nascent. Ideas like "network effects" (where the value of a service increases as it adds users) were still controversial, and the bottlenecks posed by telephone switching and human operators meant that the cost of adding new subscribers sometimes went up as the networks grew, in a weird diseconomy of scale.

Patent rights were controversial, especially patents related to natural phenomena like magnetism and electricity, which were viewed as "natural forces" and not "inventions." Business leaders and rabble-rousers alike decried patents as a federal grant of privilege, leading to monopoly and its ills.

Telecoms monopolists – telephone and telegraph alike – had different ways to address this sentiment at different times (for example, the Bell System's much-vaunted commitment to "universal service" was part of a campaign to normalize the idea of federally protected, privately owned monopolies).

Most striking about this book were the parallels to contemporary fights over Big Tech trustbusting, in our new Gilded Age. Many of the apologies offered for Western Union or AT&T's monopoly could have been uttered by the Renfields who carry water for Facebook, Apple and Google. John's book is a powerful and engrossing reminder that variations on these fights have occurred in the not-so-distant past, and that there's much we can learn from them.

Wu isn't wrong to say that John is engaging with a lot of minutae, and that this makes Network Nation a far less breezy read than Master Switch. I get the impression that John is writing first for other historians, and writers of popular history like Wu, in a bid to create the definitive record of all the complexity that is elided when we create tidy narratives of telecoms monopolies, and tech monopolies in general. Bringing Network Nation on my vacation as a beach-read wasn't the best choice – it demands a lot of serious attention. But it amply rewards that attention, too, and makes an indelible mark on the reader.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/18/the-bell-system/#were-the-phone-company-we-dont-have-to-care

[weightedblankettt]

An Analysis on the Literature Girl Insane MV!

Hey! You might not know me that much, as I’m not active in the DRDTheory community, as I’ve dubbed it, but my name is Blanket! Technically, this is a work of collaboration between the majority of DRDT Twitter, but it’s mainly just an analysis of stuff I couldn’t do by myself.

Okay, and now, onto the video!

So we start off with the spoiler warning. Pretty standard stuff, of course.

Many of my theories beginning here will be based on the colors and what I, personally, associate them with. Of course, the actual MV’s contents will be looked at further down the line. 

As a bonus, take note of what pops up right after that. It’s a question: Do you want to forgive... someone? We’ll answer this question later on in the theories section.

These are mainly just lyrics, but the “final verdict” part catches my eye, as I believe it isn’t in the lyrics further down the line. Perhaps it’s about the current trial? As many people believe, David did not kill Arei. His reasons for lying about doing so are unknown, but we can assume that the singer is calling the listeners idiots, because of their incorrect final verdict. Whatever David wants to do, it’s certainly not leading them to the right one.

Next, these lyrics. While I believe it’s fairly obvious that the pink is meant to represent the typical Danganronpa-esque color of their blood, the color that the word “game” is in is probably relates to David. After all, his hair clips and star eyes, both prominent features of his “facade”, are in the same color.

Here is where the most prominent part of the MV is, to me. The text that flashes across the screen during transition points. The first one, in white text, is an excerpt from Osamu Dazai’s “The Flowers of Buffoonery.” The book, while I’ll spare you the greater details, greatly describes themes of suicide. The story’s main protagonist, Yozo Oba, can be described as so: “-But the narrator, a self-conscious writer, makes frequent first-person asides, breaking the fourth wall as he comments on the quality or believability of the novel he is writing.” 

Something especially telling is this line, from an analysis of Yozo’s character. “Yozo is a person characterized by shame. Although I pretend to be someone who is confident and unabashedly themselves, that is not really true. I have always been ashamed of who I really am. I created a whole persona to interact with others because I believed my true self would never be enough.”

David’s character is someone very similar to that. Someone who has created a false persona to interact with others. Yozo is someone who feels resentful of other people, simply because he is forced to make them happy. “Yozo Oba is the tortured author and unreliable narrator of the three notebooks that comprise the bulk of No Longer Human. [That is the sequel to The Flowers of Buffoonery.] His appearance is depicted in three photographs examined by an unnamed narrator in the Prologue. These three photographs correspond to his appearance in each of the three notebooks. As a child, Yozo is precocious by design—an impish child who uses his antics to hide his fear, shame, and inability to relate to humanity. These fundamental flaws carry over into young adulthood; in the second notebook, he is a handsome young man whose smiling photograph lacks humanity, betraying the depth of terror and isolation that his comical persona seeks to hide. In the third photograph and notebook, he is only 27, but his gray hair and forgettable appearance prevent him from being labeled an ordinary human being.”

The quotes in yellow are from Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express.” The full quote reads as follows. "If you confront anyone who has lied with the truth, they usually admit it – often out of sheer surprise. It is only necessary to guess right to produce your effect." I think the relevancy of this line in terms of David can be explained with his actions so far. Fun fact: Similarly to Danganronpa, “Murder on the Orient Express” is a murder mystery. 

This is just a rickroll. DRDTDev thinks that they are FUNNY!? (They are.)

The “an archaic personal pronoun rarely used in real life, but popularized in fiction by the book” is most likely referring to thou/thy/etc. I’m not sure what this correlates to, but it’s probably important. I couldn’t find the green text, but from what I can tell, the green text probably relates to David’s nihilistic point of view towards humanity. Update: Bleuflower on Tumblr has located the source to be I Am A Cat by Natsume Soseki, so go check her out for that! If I had to say anything about that, it’d probably be relating to MonoTV, however, there’s also a continuation of David’s nihilism towards humanity that was also found in the Osamu Dazai references. The book itself is described as a “mordantly comic evocation of Sōseki's deep pessimism about his own humanity and indeed about humankind in general.”

The white text here is an excerpt from Osamu Dazai’s “No Longer Human,” which follows the same protagonist as “The Flowers of Buffoonery.” I’m sure you can all gather what that means in relation to David, but the main point is that he seems detached from his view of “normalcy.” @shidoutism on Twitter had this to say, as they’ve read the book itself: “OKOK so basically this first excerpt is from 'no longer human' by osamu dazai (its his last finished work because dazai sadly took his own life after publication of the book) now from the limited knowledge i have of david the meaning and message of the book might help in whatever analysis ur doing?? no longer human is about a man who never felt like he understood humans. like the title suggests, he never felt like a person. its revealed the protag was pretty sheltered and rich in childhood but experienced trauma from the familys housekeepers, but he never reported it. thats basically the start of it all as the protag grows up, he finds fear in communicating with humans. so he ends up either isolating himself and/or destroying all of his relationships with people. he's scared of people seeing the real him, so ever since he was a child he started putting up a happy, cheerful front. but it just creeped some ppl out bc it didn't feel genuine, it was more like a clown wanting to so badly entertain others. the protag starts resorting to bad coping mechanisms such as dr/gs and alc/hol and has many relationships with women to drown his sorrows and feel closer to being 'a human'. aaand the end of the book is kinda unsettling as the protag is sent to a rehab center and then when released, isolated himself somewhere far away without people, stating "everything passes. thats the one thing i learned in this living hell [somewhere along those lines]" and the book ends numbly like it feels like nothing”

I don’t know about you, but this sounds rather similar to our “protagonist.”

This quote is from “The Setting Sun”, by, you guessed it, Osamu Dazai. It tells a similar story, albeit with a different protagonist, but I feel like this ties in more with his facade, and how his inspirational speaking comes off to other people. Considering he is in his facade at this time of the MV, it’s safe to say that that’s what this is referring to.

And now, this all falls into place. These are the names of the Osamu Dazai books referenced in the text beforehand. The (I’m), next to No Longer Human, however, could signify how David views himself. Someone so sunken into depravity that they don’t register themselves as human anymore.

The faded text here is the first sentence of Yasunari Kawabata’s “Snow Country”. I don’t know what this refers to in terms of David, but this also seems important.

David still views himself as manipulative. Even if he does love people, even if he does have a semblance of care for those in his life, he views himself as an evil, irredeemable sack of shit, incapable of any emotion other than selfishness and cruelty.

This part is especially intriguing to me. David still wants to live, as anyone else does, but he can’t bring himself to find a reason to leave. His career is dead. He’s worthless, and nobody needs him around. Where would he go? There’s no room for him anywhere, even if he escaped, he’d just be shunned for good now that his entire life has been thrown away. 

The excerpt from “And Then There Were None” by Agatha Christie, describes someone losing motivation to leave the island. The island is a metaphor for the building, that the students are trapped inside, and David has lost the will to leave in the first place. He doesn’t want to leave, because there’s nowhere else for him to even go. He doesn’t have a home. He doesn’t have a fanbase. There’s nothing left.

The text here reads: “If you’re Hythlodaeus, then I must be Morus.” This refers to the work “Utopia”, written by Thomas More. The book follows Raphael Hythlodaeus, a man who claims to be from Utopia, a perfect place for everyone. His surname quite literally means “Bringer of Nonsense,” or something along those lines. While this may be a stretch, I believe that “Hythlodaeus” is referring to Pre-Reveal David, and “Morus” could possibly be either Post-Reveal David or someone affected by his speeches, for example Xander.

Also, I find it interesting how the girl in this frame, most likely David’s “sister,” Diana, and David himself are both tilting their heads at similar angles. It’s possible that their relation is hinted at through this, but I’m not sure.

The excerpt right here is from Kajii Motojiro’s entry in the Kyoto Journal, entitled “Lemon”. While some of the text has been altered, the main story is about a man who finds himself suffering, and walks through his neighbourhood only to find a greengrocer selling lemons. He goes home, and finds himself happier than before. I’m not sure what this means when it comes to David, however if you’d like, you can analyze for yourself and let me know.

https://www.kyotojournal.org/fiction-poetry/lemon/

This part doesn’t have any external references, but I believe that the lyrics here reinforce David’s worldview, that no matter what you do and how hard you try, “nobody ever changes.”

The star imagery here is a direct reference to David. Stars are representative of his happy facade, and when he loses the stars, he quits the bullshit. 

…And this frame. Alright, let’s start from the top. The electrocution definition is a callback to Xander, who’s referenced quite a few times in the video. The yellow text, which is from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s “The Little Prince”, is possibly a reference to David’s view on other people or himself- That nobody is special unless you were born special. However, the end of the text describes that if the boy were to tame the fox, the speaker, that they would need each other. I’m not sure if this is a description of manipulation, or a codependent relationship, but the David parallels are there. That, and the title of a “little prince” probably refers to David and how he’s idolized by many. The green text is, again, from “The Flowers of Buffoonery.” The full text is as follows. “A man crushed by reality puts on a show of endurance. If that's beyond your comprehension, dear reader, then you and I will never understand each other. Life's a farce, so we might as well make it a good one. But real life is a realm that I may never reach. The best that I can hope for is to loiter in the memory of these four days, so steeped with empathy. Four days that count more than

five or ten years of my life. Four days that count more than a lifetime.”

In reference to David, this is more representative of his true feelings. Not the asshole persona or the facade, but the genuine feelings he has. He already feels far too gone by his own standards, and constantly puts on a “show” for other people in the form of his speeches. 

The red text is possibly a person dealing with depression speaking on one of their symptoms. There’s no way I could find a source for such a short quote. A common symptom of depression is losing interest in things you previously found enjoyable.

The white text on the side describes someone who finds pleasure in solitude as opposed to being bossed around by other people. It’s a reference to David’s backstory, as someone who was pressured into putting on a performance for others, finding comfort in being alone rather than having to play pretend whenever around other people.

The white text at the bottom is a continuation of the white text at the top.

The only theory I can think of for this is that it’s a foreshadowing to either gaps in their memory or the amount of survivors left in the killing game being four. Not sure.

Update: I don’t know how I missed this, but the “11” next to the suspicious gaps refers to this. It’s possible that the suspicious gaps are gaps in their memory now, being as he doesn’t remember having an older sister, but her existence is most likely confirmed, as we saw her. 

This part here is referring to “Catch 22,” when the main character realizes that without a soul, humans are just… matter, if you will. Empty husks.

For this part, I had to call upon my not-so-trustworthy old friend, Google Translate! The translation of this from Latin is “I think, therefore I am (not.)” That’s what makes the most sense to me. We’ll refer back to this part later, for I have a different intention for it in my mind than David himself.

The dark blue text is another excerpt from “The Little Prince.” The prince in question is talking to a castaway, and the main takeaway of his words is that only your heart can tell you what you really need. If you were to simply look with your eyes, then what you truly need would be drowned out by the blinding light of superficial desires. I’m pretty sure that’s what that means. David is looking through his eyes, seeing a cruel world where nobody changes unless they were born to.

Now, let’s get into the next big part of the MV: The crossword puzzle. You might be wondering how this relates to David, but its moreso his own commentary on his classmates. Let’s go back to the latin. Pay attention to this reference of the solved crossword by raspbeyes on Tumblr. It will be very important for you to follow along.

Notice how there’s roman numerals in some of David’s lyrics? For example, this that we established earlier meant “I think therefore I am (not.)” This is referring to Rose. Her photographic memory can be linked to the description of “thinking.” The context of this may become clearer in future parts of the story. 

III. That’s Charles. “If you doubt brittle things are broken.” Is, in my mind, referring to his memories. He has a recurring element of not remembering things, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of this until Chapter 2. For example, his secret- “Your older brother died, but you don’t remember him at all.”

IV. Arei. Her breakdown sequence should be all you need to associate this with her.

V. This is Ace. He’s going insane, obviously, because of the paranoia and failed murder attempt against him. That, and he’s become more disheveled as the game progressed.

XIV. Veronika, correct? Substance to the arts relates to her talent as a Horror Fanatic. Naturally, she’d be related to things like that.

XV. Whit’s refusal to accept his mother’s death, staying ignorant to the tragedies around him, is one of the “happiest” members of the cast.

XI. Mai Akasaki is not mentioned in the current story, and all of her quotes hidden amongst the cast members describe her in past tense. She was someone everyone viewed as reliable, trustworthy, and perhaps, if you exaggerated it, as God.

These two walls of text are both from the same source: Hamlet’s Solliloquy of “To Be, or Not to Be?”

This is what the thing actually means, in case you aren’t aware, which even I wasn’t until just now. It represents David’s suicidal ideology, from what we can assume with the way he’s trying to get everyone to vote wrong in the trial for Arei, quite well. Whether he wants to live, or die, is most likely a constant struggle for David to answer.

Which is why he leaves it up to… whoever can answer.

This is an absolute reference to the trial. The class trial rules are overlaid over the death portrait texture, which is “conveniently” covering David’s face. The seventeen here is also telling, considering what the description has to say about it!

This is what I believe is David’s end goal. To get everyone executed as a result of his own hopelessness. By pretending to be the killer and antagonizing the class, he believes he can easily sway the votes by “manipulating the public” as he always believes he’s done. By getting everyone to vote for him, he can end the killing game and his own “pathetic life” in one fell swoop.

After all, it’s not like he believes they have a chance of winning and escaping in the first place.

And here, is where we left off in Episode 11. David completely drops his facade in order to effectively kill himself, along with everyone else. After realizing the hopelessness of his situation, he makes a drastic turn to accept it readily. Someone who self-sabotages continues to do so because they develop a warped perspective of having control.

And again referring to the description, the 12 near the “Tallying Votes” caption refers to this. It’s David’s way of justifying his selfishness, with a diluted form of justice serving as an “ultimately fair verdict to the trial.” 

However, David has always wanted to be loved. It’s why he even bothers with his facade, because he’s been putting it up for so long that disregarding his persona would effectively ruin everything he’s worked so hard to maintain in the first place. The repeated imagery of applause could also be a callback to his status as a celebrity, especially with how he reacted to Xander and Arei’s reliance on him.

While this does have a small fade of text pointing out that the “degraded copy” is the cover, which is not true because the MV is amazing, but. I believe this–

Oh. That’s literally it. Well, that makes one mystery solved!

Hey, look, we’re already halfway through! nice! Eden’s optimistic personality can be referenced here. She wants to live with everyone, together, and make sure that nobody gets hurt. 

This is another reference to David’s rambling on about how attempting to change is utterly futile, and that nobody changes. 

The yellow text is the definition of a television show, I believe. The blue text is an excerpt from “And Then There Were None,” by Agatha Christie. The full quote is this: “Breakfast was a curious meal. Everyone was very polite…. Six people, all outwardly self-possessed and normal. And within? Thoughts that ran round in a circle like squirrels in a cage…. ‘What next? What next? Who? Which?’...” …Do you get it? It’s a parallel to the killing game. Or, rather, how David views it. Everyone is terrified and scared for their lives, but they still greet eachother with mock kindness.

The blue text on the side is an excerpt from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth.”, and it goes like this: “I am in blood / Stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o'er.” A critical analysis of the original work reads as follows: Shakespeare is saying here that Macbeth has involved himself in so many murders that it is as easy for him to carry on than to turn back. Macbeth compares his course of action with wading across a river of blood, creating a vivid image of his bloody reign. The word 'tedious' reveals the hardening of Macbeth's heart.

And now, the moment I’m sure most of you have been waiting for. Xander. Something I took notice of was that the cracks line up directly with his left eye, while his right eye is the one that’s actually missing in the game. Nonetheless, Xander clearly did mean something to David. Whether it be through his idolization of David, or if he inspired David in some way, his death had an impact on him. Manipulative persona or not. 

XVI translates to Hu from the crossword puzzle. He’s taunting her, similarly to how he did in the trial, although the ??? makes me wonder if it actually IS David…

XII, that’s Eden. I assume it’s because of her optimistic persona that she is standing in someone’s way, although we’re not sure who. 

For the next part, let’s say we take this at face value. It could definitely be referencing David allegedly pushing Arei to commit suicide, although this could also be something he internalizes, with the themes of suicide and wishing to be dead explored previously.

These are all repeats of the previous works included in the MV, like The Little Prince, Ozamu Dazai’s series, Agatha Christie’s works, etc etc.

Now, this is code, I’m assuming, but I tried translating it and couldn’t find anything. It’s a common encryption language. In case you want to translate it, it’s: 3aqxw97pktc8uki458fbdpfoacllex2f07bf8mg24b4mpfx2adc6v3f5yhxjd8i7sf11312zaj5lazet47jod5jczec5mvb6bz2o59r143sf2pe916sczcn7emvbl55ehe9iqb2708tt83482c8tw3c77gn47ojca634gbcfz0016s647wwlakcn46brcle0eam9

NOTE: @glorywelpchild on Twitter says… “For this, it may have been encrypted multiple times by different engines? I'm not a programmer so I'm not really familiar lmao. Another thing, it could be a type of programming the dev knows/commonly uses.”

The VI here is Arturo, but I don’t know what this means. Perhaps the description can give us some insight?

Hmm… Well, I don’t mind. Whatever you say.

Nico’s number is VIII, and this is referring to the defense they put up when asked about their intentions against Ace’s life. They claim they never thought about it, and “even if they try to think, they don’t know.”

This is Levi’s, as per the IX. 

I actually managed to find the original image in the background. It’s a study on Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9’s orbit around Jupiter for several years before crashing into the planet. While the name, Shoemaker Levy, may be a play on Levi’s name, I believe this is also referencing that he may die soon. Maybe this is a stretch, but the symbolism of a comet named “Shoemaker Levy” crashing into Jupiter being right under a symbol that represents Levi, our prime suspect in a game where being caught results in death, is too far to be a coincidence. Part of my theory for Chapter 2 is that Levi is the blackened, after all, but that is in a previous post. Nonetheless, we can move on.

This is “Enterance of the Gladiators.” While it is now associated with silly things like clowns, it was originally a military march song. Hmm, where have I heard this description before?

Ah, that’s right! In the description!

These two are relatively straightforward. The David we meet in the prologue is his facade, and it serves as an introduction. However, we are re-introduced to him with a whole personality change, and that comes delayed from all the others.

This is a direct reference to MonoTV and the throne in the trial room.

The truth bullets. Typical Danganronpa symbolism, and it’s also a neat little reference to Xander’s custom weapon.

References to some of the students. The dresser is Levi, the bowl of fruit is Rose, the gun is Xander, the teapot is Hu, and the candle is maybe J?

The clock is Eden, the portrait, maybe a reference to the game? The stupid kid’s toy might be Whit.

Teruko and Mai. Teruko’s misfortune and Mai’s idealization are both key parts of their characters.

The gavel, another reference. The kitchen knife, Min. The skull, Veronika. The mirror… Possibly Xander because we’ve seen him with broken glass earlier in the MV, but it might be David and his personas making another reference.

The mastermind, sitting atop their comfortable chair.

The noose is Arei, the gas mask is Charles, the mouse is Nico, the theater mask… Perhaps the mastermind again, or Veronika again. The safe is David’s locked away and suppressed emotions. These are all mainly theories based on observation, don’t take it as the wholehearted truth.

David being mentioned again with the hair clips. The lemon has been brought up beforehand, it’s a callback to the journal entry. The dummies represent David’s detachment from his humanity, and the television is a callback to the fact that they’re on a television show.

David views himself as a snake, a liar, a murderer. Snakes are common imagery to use when referring to the Devil as well. The blood is a callback to the killing game itself.

Either a reference to Min, or the fact that all the books are empty could be visual dramatization of David’s feelings. There’s supposed to be something in them, but the books are empty. The “various kinds” could also be how many personas he puts on, if that’s a prominent part of his backstory.

The killing game is being broadcasted, so that counts as terrorist iconography, if nothing else. Dandelions, while beautiful in their own way, don’t belong in a garden. The megaphone is David’s custom weapon, and it’s a way for him to broadcast his speeches to those around the world.

The letters are from the joke comic that the dev released. You know the one, where Xander writes a letter for David and he accidentally throws it away thinking that it’s garbage. The popular toy refers to the commercializing of the Tragedy, as Veronika explained on the first day of Chapter 2. How horror movies will put black-and-white designs in their films to up the fear factor because of the subliminal/primal fear of the design back in the days of the Tragedy. The flowers… No idea.

This is cleverly disguised, but it’s a reference to the debate between continuing to live and killing yourself. To be or not to be, to stop or to keep going, but they’re both lit up. How are you to do both at the same time? You have to make a choice.

Main Roles are David and Xander. It makes sense, considering they both have full-body moments and we know who they are. The crossed out name is Mai Akasaki, but the cut off name is a bit harder to decipher. Thanks to some inspiration and help, I’ve come to my final conclusion regarding this.

They are related to Arei, 100%. The letters match perfectly.

Even in comparison to Arei, the “N” in her name starts only a bit earlier, but that’s because the first word is probably only two or three letters, in comparison to the four letters in Arei.

Originally, I couldn’t translate any of these. All I could make out was that the first hand was Xander and the second hand was Min or Mai. However. @MAHIRUMILGRAM on twitter managed to translate them! They are as follows:

After this point, the truth bullet breaks through David’s words, similarly to how Teruko is fighting against David, despite the truth bullet being in agreement towards David’s idea.

There’s also this, which could be David trying to deflect us from the truth, or that the lyrics genuinely don’t relate to him. I’m leaning towards the former.

The white text at the top here is from a story, entitled “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.” It is about a beautiful city where everyone is happy. However, their city is not as beautiful as it seems. They tell the story of how the townspeople have locked a child in a basement, and left it to suffer. Their happiness, as they’ve been told, requires a sacrifice. “Inside the room, which is behind a locked door, there are a couple of dirty mops, a bucket, and a young child. The child is ten years old, but looks younger. The child is scared and completely miserable. It is never allowed to leave the room. Occasionally, someone opens the door and kicks the child to make it stand up. The person fills the food bowl halfway with corn meal and grease, fills the water jug, and leaves. The child can remember what the outside world looks like and begs and pleads to be let out. The child is naked and covered in sores, and it wails at night in its misery. The people of Omelas all know about the child in the basement. They all understand that everything good about Omelas, from their abundance of food to the good weather, depends upon the suffering of the child. They all understand this because when children are between the ages of eight and twelve, they are brought to see the child, and this tradeoff is explained to them. During this experience, the children of Omelas are disgusted. They want to help, but they are told they can’t. If anyone helps the child by clothing, feeding, or otherwise caring for it, then the perfect happiness of Omelas and its abundance would die. Therefore, no one may even speak kindly to the child.” I wanted to include this because it describes David so well. Someone who has been cast away because they’re deemed useless to society, someone who’s happiness would destroy the happiness of anyone else. I find the story truly fascinating, as it might describe David’s suppressed emotions and the depressive tendencies he indulges himself in.

“Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality, and to accept it. Yet it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives. Theirs is no vapid, irresponsible happiness. They know that they, like the child, are not free.”

“How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who I was—such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth [alēthēs]. But many as their falsehoods were, there was one of them which quite amazed me—I mean when they told you to be upon your guard, and not to let yourselves be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed my deficiency; they certainly did appear to be most shameless in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth [alēthēs]; for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered a word, or not more than a word, of truth [alēthēs]; but you shall hear from me the whole truth [alēthēs]: not, however, delivered after their manner, in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases.”

Do you remember, in the prologue, where Xander describes the “rumors” against David’s positive front? This is a direct parallel. Here, Socrates denounces the words of his attackers, similarly to how nobody truly believes the rumors except for the critics themselves. Even Xander was fooled by his charisma.

“Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet: If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, 240 Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.”

Hamlet blames his own insanity for the death of Laertes’ father. Just like David tries to get everyone killed, and blames himself for murdering Arei, because of his own insanity.

This is a line from the poem “Be Not Defeated by The Rain,” by Kenji Miyazawa. It describes a man wishing to become someone strong, someone who cannot be bested. I believe this is exactly what David wants, too. To be as strong and as hopeful as he is forced to pretend to be, instead of a hopeless mess who would rather die than be seen as worthless.

David reaches the height of his insanity, before finally quieting down after being basked in green light. I don’t know if this was intentional, but I believe that it represents how he’s given up on even death after the students manage to vote correctly, hence the green coloring.

And now, number 19.

I severely doubt that David will actually die in Chapter 3. That is not “foreshadowing,” that is just giving out the answer, and DRDTDev is much more careful than that. I believe this is a final representation of David’s suicidal ideologies. He says he will forget, he says guilt will not weigh him down, but he’s lying to himself. That’s why the stars are still behind him, because he’s still lying. He says he is satisfied, he says he’s okay with death, but when has David ever been truthful with us?

And he leaves an empty throne behind. Not because he is dead, but because he has relinquished his career and his reputation for nothing.

Even though he is missing, nothing else has changed. That is how he views his life.

And that concludes the main analysis of David’s MV! It’s such a beautiful thing, really, I don’t know how to phrase any of it properly. Thank you to everyone who’s read this far, and everyone who helped me out. The decoding and puzzles? Ah, I’ll let you all do that… But, maybe I can help a little! Blanket, out~! See you all next time!

[franki-lew-yo]

An 'A-ha!' fandom moment, ft. The Owl House

These comments I screencapped from a user I watch elsewhere really hit like a brick in the face to me. I'm blotting out OP's name, mostly cuz this was just a shower thought they had rather than any meaningful open discussion with people, but it ended up making me realize something (also NO they're not some contrarian AntiSJW type or even hate TOH; they're a very gay+trans writer themselves. Sorry if youknowwhoyouare sees this and recognizes ur posts but you don't allow reblogs or comments and I wanted to present it on my own):

The Owl House was always hampered by being killed halfway through, writing wise and that will always be it's greatest 'sin'. However, OP's comment made me realize how much the show kind of tells you it's characters are flawed rather than actually give them arcs to suggest it, especially in season 1. When I say flawed I don't mean lacking quirks that are relatable but human: Eda is a recluse criminal; King thought he could kill people and acted like it; Luz is a genki girl; Amity starts off as a bully; Hunter...is unfortunately Hunter, ect. Those ARE flaws, character wise, but in the presence of the complete story (as complete as the show will ever be) they really aren't actually flawed, bad people in anyway.

Before I go further, two things: 1, IN ALL FAIRNESS, this is why myself and others particularly LOVE the characters and why TOH was a comfort show for me rather than a 'high-tension narrative'. The characters are a lot of what you want and hope to be like and I think that's really sweet and enjoyable, especially for horror and especially for kids.

2, NO! I DON'T think any particular bad faith cartoon reviewer opinions about coddling certain characters and punishing others IS WHAT DANA and co did at all here! Steven Universe and certain crap-reviewer's takes ON Steven Universe and how it's characters were flawed but overly forgiven by the fandom the show itself are NOT the b-all end-all of this discussion, nor are they the reason The Owl House is the way it is!

The context op was talking about was how in the upcoming hate crime The Last Airbender live-action show the showrunners are going to tone down Sokka's sexism because they think it's 'unlikable'. Even though, we all knew as children that this was an arc for him and it was WRONG, so axing it because we the audience lack nuance to recognize characters we love doing problamtic-sisms is BEYOND annoying.

Op's point is how The Owl House in particular doesn't actually expect much or want much out of it's characters. Or audience. For any infighting early on about how much Amity should 'die' because of reasons, that's really just fandom infighting when you get right down to it. There's nothing on par with the disagreement people have over, say, the Diamonds from Steven Universe and how Steven 'totally forgave them or 'should have murdered them in cold blood' about The Owl House. And like...from a fandom point of view that's good, but otherwise the show is pretty concrete the way you're supposed to see certain characters vs other shows which allow you to make up your own mind.

Avatar, Star vs the Forces of Evil (pre finale), Centaurworld and Amphibia all showcase your protagonists being genuinely, intensely flawed. Sure, maybe some neckbreather crap-pseudocritic complains that they 'made the unlikable' or whatever (i.e. me with Friendship is Magic) but overall the actual point is HOW the characters actually have grown and have ended up with the ending and morality they need. The villains, no not Zukos or 'redeemed' villains who joined the protagonist squad, VILLAIN-villains, will always be at least one serious step behind the protagonists and that's what give the protagonists the cautionary wherewithal to end them like they should and not 'be like them'. It's such a fufilling narrative, there's a reason people like it so much because it's really good when it's delivered well.

Removed from my fandom gaze; the Owl House feels like it's saying it has that ultimate messaging and character arc when it actually doesn't. Your protagonists have the endearing aspirational-part totally covered, but as far as the actual 'edge' and nuance? Well...

Eda is, at most, naughty. She really isn't any kind of morally sidetracked character. She's an outlaw because literally her society is awful to her and she's in the right to be against it. She's cursed but she's not addicted to her potions or hiding it or not really taking care of herself or her loved ones because of it. Her actual biggest flaw is that she's been 'running away' from problems rather than dealing with them, but I'd be lying if that wasn't suggested more than it's actually portrayed; or at least, dealt with fast enough in "Eda's Requiem". A bigger issue I see, even if it's what's also endearing about her, is that she REALLY isn't a flawed caregiver at all. It's portrayed as her most redeeming feature that she's otherwise a good mom and mentor, but Eda having virtually no problems in raising Luz and King just, again, makes her feel ONLY aspirational. All of the angst about 'failing' to parent and making up for it is moved all onto Camilla and sadly all of that angst for her is mostly within an already bloated episode. Eda, while an absolute mood, lacks any real kind of edge. Does she need it or not? I don't know. Discuss, kids.

Luz, like OP says, is treated like this high-energy super-optimist. She's like Star Butterfly in that her fangirlism and impulsivness are supposed to get her in trouble. But, she absolutely just isn't one when you break it down. Besides episode 2, Luz really is never that inconsiderate or lost in her fantasies ever again throughout the show. She never has anything like what Steven goes through where he hops into Larz' body and makes things worse for people by trying to fix things- which is not only good filler but it calls forward to the ultimate ending of Steven's arc for the series - Luz is just sort of adorable. Luz has blindsided by hype moments of weakness, like when she accidentally hurts Owlbert or messes with Amity's secret room, but still always level headed and down-to-earth. Her impulses are always kind of treated like...excusable? Because, again, they usually are. This is a large part about what makes her self-hatred at the end of the show about accidentally helping Belos' feel 'forced'. Even MOREso than what Hunter and Daddy Titan explain about Belos using her, we the audience never see Luz's choice to go back in time and try and get answers from Philip as being anything other than just, you know, logical. Because it is. The show acts like what Luz did was reckless and bad and that she was SOOO overtaken by her fangirlism about Philip and now just how much she has to live with the guilt and regret of helping being duped by him...it just doesn't come off that way at all. She was only so much excited about meeting him and her interest was getting home to her mother. In terms of comparing her to Philip, that's all fine and good, but again it's not 'flawed'. Not really, anyway.

Lilith absolutely has it the worst...but I kinda think people know that. She arguably does have the most morally-gray turning point in the show given what she did to her own sister. But neither the characters nor her nor the show really hold her accountable in any lasting way for cursing Eda. Lilith is the closest we get to that 'Diamond'-dilemma. She does 'make things right way too quickly and it's obvious to even her biggest fans that her character is really rushed in this area. They lampshade what Lilith did and that she was their villain in season 2 and 2B, but lampshading isn't the same thing as progress. As a result, as a Lilith fan you kind of never really forgive her for what she did. None of that's her fault, cause' you know...she doesn't exist, but it makes it frustrating that you the fan watching the show is doing the heavy-lifting in your mind in this area.What you come away from is this feeling of loving the characters for being able to work everything out. They're engaging and nuanced in theory, but you also feel robbed, w or w/o the Disney interference, of them being fully rounded or WHOLE. It kinda feels like 'and suddenly, he wasn't racist, anymore' all the time with every character ever with except Amity's mom, the Titan Trappers and Belos.

The reason everyone dunks on Star vs the Forces of Evil's finale, (besides being salty over ship wars and declaring THAT'S the reason for the drop in quality) is that 'Cleaved' could have not only worked but REALLY worked. It just needed to be better written and processed as an ending. Instead people reviled Star, the protagonist we're supposed to be rooting for, for what feels like impulsive apathy and cruelty towards everyone else by destroying magic, as opposed to it being an actually selfless sacrifice that makes her different than Toffee. Ultimatley, I do prefer The Owl House, unfinished as it is, to any of that. But yeah... I can now never unsee the characters as being what they are: fun but indulgent when they're supposedly complex. Indulgent is never bad u guys, but the problem is when you only have that to go on while insisting you have fully developed characters, there's a lot of the show telling you how to feel and how to come away from it rather than letting you, the audience, make of that yourself. As annoying as fan-wars can be over this stuff and when people are either WAAAY to forgiving of their villain blorbo or form hate-campaigns over Glub Shitto for ruining their life, it is ultimately a good thing that shows give you that chance to really see the characters that way at all.

The Owl House is, as OP calls it, "tumblr feels" not for being gay and magical and fun and wholesome and indulgent like that stuff is GREAT. It feels 'tumblr oriented' in that it all kind of feels too easy even when it's not for your protagonists. It's never actually "challenging". I guess, in as far as 'good' indulgence is concerned, it's as warm and fuzzy and a happy AU fanfic you found but not so much the Pacifist Ending of Undertale where you really do feel bad if you rectify the good ending in anyway. It's fun and it's comfort food, but not entirely lasting as you want it to be???

Amphibia, I think, was also way better than Owl House in this respect. It wasn't perfect cause nothing is but you really got a feeling for HOW flawed Marcy, Sasha, the townsfolk and even Hop Pop throughout their arcs-- which made it so SO rewarding to see them get their happy endings and come together to defeat the core and be the better people they needed to become.

The Owl House is my favorite where I think Amphibia is the better of the two.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Image is of the comic book character Tank Girl, created by Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett.

* * * *

My primary foci as a political writer have been feminism and climate, though twenty-five books in, I write about all sorts of things. If I haven't been posting a lot about climate lately, it's because for those of us in the USA the most important thing we can do for climate this season is elect Democrats to the White House and Congress.

Not all my writing is so overtly political, and I think beauty, pleasure, and joy are what we're doing all this for, including the moral beauty of universal human rights and absolute equality and a thriving natural world. I post poetry and images that sometimes have to do with those qualities or are just lovely in themselves. That is to say, this isn't a professional page focused solely on politics. Or it recognizes that everything is political and politics as such are just the surface response to the deep soil of culture, and I'm interested in the culture, in language, metaphor--and soil.

I'm also committed to hope, not as optimism, the certainty that everything will be fine, but as a creative, committed engagement with the radical uncertainty of the future, and the fact that much about the future is not predetermined but depends on what we do in the present (which is why I'll exhort you about climate action and other important things).

This passage from Orwell has long been my credo: “Anyone who cares to examine my work will see that even when it is downright propaganda it contains much that a full-time politician would consider irrelevant. I am not able, and do not want, completely to abandon the world view that I acquired in childhood. So long as I remain alive and well I shall continue to feel strongly about prose style, to love the surface of the earth, and to take a pleasure in solid objects and scraps of useless information. It is no use trying to suppress that side of myself. The job is to reconcile my ingrained likes and dislikes with the essentially public, non-individual activities that this age forces on all of us.”

(Rebecca Solnit)

[positivelybeastly]

This might be a fun little project for you, and certainly for the rest of us attempting to understand Hank better. What is something that a writer should takeaway from the most popular incarnations of Hank, yes including the recent one, to write him in a storyline? Maybe even bring something new to his character?

Speaking for myself here I’m fairly curious to know!

Hmmm. Good question.

I think that there are four central tenets to Hank's character, and they're basically integral to whether or not a run understands what Hank is about.

First of all - Hank's general story arc is about the importance of making mistakes, and learning from them. This is what gives his character meaning and resonance. He teaches us that you can completely fuck up your life, and come back from it, if only you try. If only you don't let your mistakes become bigger than you.

I would argue that the worst versions of Hank, and by worst I mean badly written, get stuck on the idea that Hank is reckless and makes mistakes and he never learns from them, and the thing is, that's simply not true anymore. It was true, in the story in which he turned himself grey and furry, but that was 1975, and that story broke Hank as he existed up until that point.

This story is so good because it understands that Hank made the single biggest fuck-up of his life in that lab, and he cannot undo that mistake, and he knows that. He has no right to. His ego died in that lab. Yeah, he can get a bit conceited, yeah, he can boast of what he's done, but he learned his lesson and he should never really reach the heights of ego and arrogance that he did back then.

All he has to do to remember what that led to is to look in the mirror.

It's not dissimilar to what happens with Mr. Fantastic - any time someone writes him as this big, boastful, arrogant scientist, they are forgetting that all he has to do to remember what that led to is look at his best friend, Ben Grimm, and what that led to last time. Actions have consequences. Hank and Reed know this all too well. They know this lesson, learning it again is bad storytelling.

Second of all - Hank is about change. His character is constantly changing, not just physically and visually, but emotionally and in terms of personality, too. He explicitly talks about this in Defenders.

He's allowed to be different and change, he is, in some ways, a social mirror. He code switches. He's different with the X-Men and the Avengers and the Defenders and X-Factor and the Illuminati and S.W.O.R.D because those places are different, with different people and different aims and different needs, and so Hank becomes different.

This is why feline Beast is so fucking important to his character growth, and why it was the best place for his character to go. By the late 90s, his character had, in ways, become a little bit stale, stuck in the rut of the jokey scientist with a philosophical side, and he needed a new internal conflict, because he's matured and dealt with most of his issues about growing up and taking responsibility.

Flipping the essential point of Beast's character, and making it so that it wasn't just other people who had to get over how Hank looked to see the brilliant, wonderful man beneath, but Hank himself, was genius.

Third of all - Hank is a consummate performer. He sings, he dances, he quotes poetry, he can turn the Periodic Table into a dirty rhyme, he knows more than you do - he is constantly performing. The aggressive performance of both humanity and masculinity is essential to Hank's character, something I've talked about extensively here, and X-Force is so instructive here because Ben Percy comes so close to understanding this character point, but fails to do anything with it.

He's just so damned uncritical. He doesn't have anyone actually engage with Hank's performance, which is why X-Force is just a succession of increasingly dry monologues by an actor trying to do improv while surrounded by the rest of his amateur dramatics group who just aren't with it today.

Fourth - Hank McCoy is a good man. He isn't perfect, by any stretch, but the instant you try and make him an intrinsically bad person, you've failed to understand who he is, where he comes from, and what the entire point of his character is.

HE HAS NO DARK SECRETS.

HE HAS NOTHING TO HIDE.

I'm sorry, but Grant Morrison just understands Beast better than 90% of writers, because they understand that Hank is a complicated man, he is a walking thesaurus, he's a pile of insecurities and neuroses and mental illnesses, but he is so painfully genuine and sincere and honest. He doesn't believe in just straight up lying, because it is beneath him. He is eloquent and cultured and smart, and he believes in giving you the truth as you need to hear it.

Bendis and Percy just don't understand what Hank is. Who Hank is. He's not the man who takes murder as the first and only option. Stop making him act like him.

As for what to bring to his character? Give him a child.

It is so painfully obvious that this man wants children.

Challenging him by making him have either biological children, or getting to just straight up adopt a child, would be an excellent place to take his character. Now, granted, I understand that comic books fucking HATE children . . . but I don't care, you asked what would be a good place for his character to go, and this is it. The man deserves the chance to be a father. He'd be a good one.