#i do have some good quotes about slash tho

[sakura-gyarugal]

-Akatsuki randomness but it probably only makes sense to me-

Modern au I guess? Lowkey slander at some points. I love my boys tho- oh and very ooc

When going to brunch, Konan always makes sure to dress up while the rest of the members come in sweatpants and stains on their shirts. Excluding Itachi. He comes with a nice button up.

Kakuzu was definitely in the crypto and nft market not because he believed in it but because seeing all the idiots fall for it gave him an infinity money glitch

Kisame sings into the google microphone and expects the song to pop up. He also searches “song that go oh ohhh ohhh oh”

Sasori asked the group to use tone indicators and Deidara flat out says “slash joking” or “slash genuine”….like in real life

Hidan owns an Instagram account where he flexes in the camera with Russian phonk behind it. It has a stupid amount of flashes that he used from CapCut

Itachi sends inspirational quotes, good morning messages with a bunch of flowers, and stupid minion memes. Konan always hearts react while Deidara and Hidan skull react

Deidara is pretty handy in machinery, math, and chemistry but can’t make himself food without burning it…he’s so bad that he burns food in an airfryer

Already put this in a post like this before but Zetsu’s favorite movie is definitely smile, terrifier series, walrus, and the human centipede

Sasori has a really weak immune system and is constantly sniffling. He carries lysol and hand sanitizer everywhere

Deidara and Hidan quote things from Instagram reels and tiktok that literally no one else gets. A few things they constantly say: the yes king audios, are we deadass? jobs bro, never cook again, are you serious right now? I’m employed? What does this mean? The grandpa screaming at the camera saying “what!!!? oh hell nah!! Oh hell nah!!” They’re literally so insufferable

Orochimaru is an active member on Stan Twitter

Kisame owns Nike tech in every color 😔

Konan takes selfies with the group then blocks out their faces with a black square. Proceeds to mention everyone in the photo.

Yahiko def passed out getting his first piercing while konan and nagato held his hand.

Zetsu just says stuff when the room gets quiet. It’s always weird to. Then the silence gets more awkward.

Nagato cries to those sad dog commercials.

Deidara gets his accounts suspended every month for “hate speech” he simply makes a new account and continues hating.

Hidan definitely pointed to a person wearing a band shirt and said “name five songs”

Kakuzu lives on Facebook marketplace. He buys the stupidest crap too. Like one day he came back with dinosaur statue and put it in display in his living room.

Obito refuses to buy new socks and underwear until it’s nothing but a string left. He’s just walking around with holes in his underwear and socks 😭

Itachi is lowkey lactose intolerant. That doesn’t stop him from eating his favorite desserts

Sasori is allergic to everything. He uses it for his benefit. “Sorry guys can’t come today. The air is very dry therefore I have to stay inside.”

Yahiko used to be so many girls MySpace crushes

Itachi uses the fanciest colognes, hair care, skin care, etc. when the other members come over, they go immediately to his room and starting showering themselves in his expensive stuff 😭

Kisame does not play about his car. No eating, no drinking, and if you park too close to his car he’s going to leave a note on the windshield.

Konan is not motherly toward the group. In fact, she’s the ones that suggest them to do stupid crap. Oh, you think you can make the jump 6ft in the air? Hell yeah. Itachi is the voice of reason in the group.

Zetsu is probably on a stupid carnivore diet and tries to convince the other members to do it with him. Sometimes you see him sitting in the dark eating a stick of butter.

Obito goes on reddit for help. Like…for everything. “Am I the asshole for asking out my female friend for the 100th time after she told me no when she was 13?” “My left arm goes numb. Is that cancer?”

Deidara has the entire group as his close friends story but he posts the most mediocre content ever….like why are you posting your chipotle bowl with a sad song? No cares buddy

Kakuzu has all the members blocked unless he needs something

Sasori believes he’s like Dr house…he is not. He’s more like young Sheldon.

Nagato sucks at keeping secrets and lying. He turns bright red and starts itching making it very obvious

Hidan is banned from public libraries across the country

Itachi does audiobooks.

Kakuzu definitely pirates movies. He also brings full entrees to the movie theaters along with his camera.

Deidara has an instagram where he posts his cat, photos of himself, Hidan, clay projects with the stupidest captions. He always has foreigners in his comments like “?” Or “guys don’t translate the caption” or “what does this mean?”

Sasori and Itachi leave yelp reviews if they hate the service. Itachi will be more easy on it like, “The service wasn’t very great and I found the food to be a little underwhelming but appreciated the atmosphere of the restaurant.” Whereas Sasori is like, “the chicken is fucking disgusting. How hard is it to cook chicken? The owner and his chefs should kill themselves. In fact I hope you die by your uncooked chicken.”

Konan has a deep hatred from booktok yet she reads the books just to see if they’re really that bad

Nagato got a haircut but was too shy to say it looked bad and proceeded to cry in his car

Orochimaru posts freaky trap posts on tiktok with grandmas commenting “😍😍😍”

Obito probably owns a cybertruck

It takes Deidara an hour to be fully coherent after waking up. If you ask him a question he’s either going to grunt, glare at you, or slowly blink

Hidan bought his fur jacket off of depop…or he robbed someone. Who knows.

Kisame wears shirts with stupid quotes on them like “women love me. Fish fear me.”

Hidan was playing candy crush on kakuzu’s phone and had Kakuzu crashing out after Hidan used all of his combo candies

Deidara probably snatched a shirt from a kid because he believes he needs the sonic shirt (that fits like a crop top on him) more than the kid

Konan has those kpop key cards but instead it’s photos of Nagato and Yahiko

Obito likes girl bands. You just see this middle aged guy glowering and in his headphones it’s playing “flip that by loona”

Hidan has a streaming channel where he plays COD but it’s mainly him fighting with his viewers or trying to spread his religion. 5% gameplay 90% of yelling 5% reading his chats.

Kakuzu’s favorite show is the Atlanta housewives and sharktank.

[irrealisms]

jun wu or bwx for character asks? 👁️

starting off: hi yen if you're reading this it's got spoilers so pls skip this post ty <3 u can come back to it when u finish tgcf which at your current rate will be in like. a couple days lol

How I feel about this character

Im Normal About Him.

the ending is. perfect. the bamboo hat. it's never too late. when he's defeated he looks relieved. quoting myself from discord:

he cannot face being proven wrong, because it means he’s done terrible things and hurt people when he didn’t have to. he wants so badly to be proven wrong, because it means that maybe there’s good in the world and not just endless crushing pain and evil.

i have a lot of thoughts abt him & the tragedy of him & his entire ideology!!! i am sort of failing at condensing them but i have a lot of thoughts about him .

All the people I ship romantically with this character

hehe. xie lian (i am a sicko). i can also justify this to some extent--jun wu/bai wuxiang (i think mostly bai wuxiang, actually?) remarks positively on xie lian's appearance a notable amount, there's the "makes one ache, makes one excited" bit which i cannot read as anything other than Kind Of Weird And Horny, there's the thing where jun wu tests xie lian's virginity by making him bleed on jun wu's sword (i have another whole meta in my heart about swords as blatantly phallic in tgcf but i assume you do not need to be convinced of this lol)--but honestly i don't fully stand by it. this is a ship i have at least 80-90% because i am a sicko. i hope you can all understand

My non-romantic OTP for this character

ALSO xie lian. im complex. i contain multiple guys. the thing is that i have a beautiful google doc that consists of every time jun wu/bwx is analogized to a parent/teacher and xie lian is analogized to a child and it has . like. 30 quotes? somewhere around there? it's a lot! it's a lot. "i have decided that we are the same guy due to The Parallels but also i am going to enforce this and Make us the same guy by Molding You into Becoming Me" is an incredibly good dynamic whether it is slash or gen, and i do think the "weird forced adult-child relationship going on" reading is in fact more supported by the text than a shippy one. also when i'm not being a sicko about it there's also something deeply beautiful to me about their ending, about xie lian defeating jun wu but also showing him this moment of grace. and of course the Parallels which apply equally when it's slash vs gen. also you may have noticed that neither this question nor the last one do i bring up guoshi. this is bc idgaf about him. sorry mei nianqing . he exists i just Do Not Care

My unpopular opinion about this character

im gonna be so real i have no idea what is and is not popular wrt jun wu. what are the popular jun wu opinions.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

once again im kind of at the same place i am wrt mu qing of, like.... nothing, honestly? i am incredibly happy with what we got, i think it's beautifully written and the resolution is perfect, mxtx is a good writer and tgcf is a good book, no complaints

having a bit more of his backstory with mnq might be cool, i guess? we get the huge infodump but it's kind of just an infodump, it is just Pure Exposition, going into that a bit more / more naturally than "guoshi helpfully exposits for us" could be neat even tho i dont think its necessary. as mentioned i'm p much happy with what we got

(ask game, give me a character)

[komipacket]

THIS IS A FINAL PART I PROMISE!!!!

so... ocs. Now that we finished with the CherryOriginSMP lets talk about some other things

A STORY ABOUT THREE COOKS A DEMON A GUY AND ANOTHER GUY WITH GLASSES

More about them and A LOT OF ART below!!!

They are so silly! Dagon, Bublik and Kyle are somewhat friends slash lovers nobody can't really tell. All flirt, all do strange things. God knows what happens in their little flat at night. Dagon and Bublik usually fight and make fun of each other. But both are sweet and soft with Kyle. Except those moments where Dagon does fucked up shit to Kyle but we don't talk about that. Again, they have strange relationship.

Actually I wanna adress that we made this story together with my friends! Cherry and Bublik were the ones to make Kyle and Bublik as characters! They are really cool! Love those silly guys!

Anyways, Dagon is a demon from hell that usually works at the restaurant owned by his boss quote — unquote "Dad" (Dagon doesn't call him dad even tho Raum really feels like his father)

Bublik and Kyle summoned a litteral demon because they COULDN'T WORK WELL AND GOT FIRED EVERY WEEK. They asked for help and guidance in exchange of their souls. But basically it means that when they die they'll spawn in hell and would be like his slaves of something. After some time they became friends so Dagon just made them free in hell. Kinda.

The main twist is that when Dagon comes to Earth, he realises that... he doesnt know how to cook in human world. In hell it's all easy. They all eat fucking coal, you just make it really hot and its good enough. But in the human world he made fire again and again. EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE BC OF HIM! So... He couldn't fulfill his part of the deal. That means he is stuck on Earth until he does. That's when the fun begins as they try themselves in different cooking jobs again and again and again...

Here are some doodles of them!

At the end of this story Kyle and Bublik become demons too! Kyle and Dagon even find a little girl who becomes their daughter

Some other demon designs i tried:

This story has actually a different route with an archidemon who finds a perfect lawer in human world and makes a deal but thats a different whole thing!

Thank you for reading it! It means a lot! Next time I will share my BACKROOMS story ! It is kinda creepy but i really like the concept!

[simptasia]

I know you ship them (I think), and I've filled your inbox with them but I'd love to hear your thoughts on Desmond x Charlie. I know that's kind of vague, but anything really any hcs and you know porn hcs, your perfect dynamic for them

i love charlie/desmond but my brain trips over it a bit, because as much as possible in The Version Of LOST In My Head, i do try to have it work with canon. like not contradict anything

as such, charlie/des is a lovely thought aesthetically, emotionally, sexually... however i know it could've never happened on island because des would never ever ever cheat on penny

same applies to charlie/des/claire

i think these dynamics absolutely would work and would be lovely but des has utter loyalty to penny. yes, i'm all about that poly shipping but penny isn't There to tell des "yes, fuck the little manc and that aussie girl too, i'm cool with it"

so for charlie/des to work, and i mean Work, it's gotta be a post-island charlie lives au thing. which is great! (one even adds penny in that situation) but i do also like the idea of charlie/des on the island. it's appealing to look at. that and it's enjoyable to add in desmond's season 3 Haunted By Tragic Visions thing

another possibility is for charlie to manage charming des into it... but that seems disrespectful. charlie is pro des/penny. but charlie also is far from perfect. i'm overthinking all of this, as is my way

i do try to keep everything as in character as possible

there is a line of thought i toy with where des could be convinced to think, ya know, penny wouldn't mind if you moved on, des. she's probably moved on. like, des is insecure and severely touch starved, that could work

i'm not one of those "grrr girl is getting in the way of my slash ship!" kinda people, i promise. i'm just rolling thoughts in my fingers here

following this line of thought, des/charlie would have to start off at least a little angsty. two sad people reaching out for each other and pushing bad thoughts away with carnal pleasure

whatever happens, des did Not start this jfskjhfs. no matter what i do with this ship, either taking it Canon Compliant Seriously or just flippant Fucky Sexy Fun Times, charlie is the instigator

anyways putting all that aside, here are some charlie/des thoughts

an idea i love and i wanna see in fanfic is des finding out he's gonna be with charlie, because of a vision. it's kinda funny (that the universe would care) and it could be a way, a weird fucked up way, to get them together despite the issues i mentioned earlier. i think it'd be a good jumping off point for like angst and pining

that thing i've said, "the only way to shut charlie up in bed is to keep his mouth occupied", that started because of charlie/des. i imagined them making out, hands all over each other, and charlie Will Not Shut Up, i imagine he's super talkative in bed. people who care little about charlie have been pissed off by it. and like, des is into charlie but its actually getting annoying. des doesn't tell charlie to shut up but he does lead the situation to charlie blowing him, and my brain narrator supplies the quote, pretty much

catholic4catholic. this is honestly one of my favourite aspects about this dynamic, the fact that they're both Very catholic. not enough to be losers about it, duh, but enough to have some hang ups. especially charlie

height difference. despite it only being a 3 inch difference, the different in face shapes, body types, body languages and attitudes makes it feel like des is like a clear foot bigger than charlie. des could also overpower charlie very easily if he wanted to. in a sexy way, not a violence way. (tho, sexy violence?) charlie would fold like lawn furniture under des. (honestly the size difference thing is also a major reason i started shipping jack/charlie and sawyer/charlie too. sometimes something just fucking looks good)

"des: i've never been with a man before" "charlie, has a pussy: it's alright, i have a feeling you'll know what to do". jokes aside, normally charlie is way more afraid of guys finding out (because of. violence) but he doesn't get that vibe off des, so he's strangely giddy at having a surprise for him?? like, ta-da, Extra Hole. this is a thing i've decided for charlie, where he almost never tells people he's trans before intimacy. pretty much because he's impulsive and thinks with his blood well before his brain. so, obviously, des is surprised. who wouldn't be at least surprised

i was thinking about what their dynamic would be like. basically take what's presented in the show, add sex of course. but also i suppose they'd just be closer, like be affectionate. in little ways, like des putting his hand on the small of charlie's back, charlie fiddling with one of des' shirt buttons, either one of them pushing a stray bit of hair out of the other's faces. liberal use of the pet name "love". and that thing in des/charlie fanfic where charlie calls des "dessie" a lot? love that, absolutely for that. they're not doing full on PDA on the beach because 2004 was a nightmare but there's a noticeable closeness and warmth ("jack, a month late: are they gay...?" "kate: jack, you're gay")

as for social dynamics? let's lookit the characters here and see what'd factor into a relationship. they're both very protective people with an aching desire to Take Care of a loved one. they'd both have varying levels of catholic guilt (yummy). and they're both deeply insecure in a "i'm not good enough for anybody ever". so we got a couple of very loyal boys full of powder kegs of angst waiting to blow up at any moment. on a lighter note, these two would have arguments over who pays for dinner at restaurants. they both grew up poor and this manifests in them not liking to rely on other people. I'll Take Care Of You. No, I'll Take Care Of You (boys, boys please... you have a sugar mama who is rolling her eyes). but yeah they have a decent amount in common while still being very different people, so it's interesting to think about that

des doesn't like charlie's music. he will never like charlie's music. it's best not to discuss it as criticism feels like a stab wound to charlie

charlie: [wearing a plaid miniskirt] how do i look?

des: gorgeous, brutha, but that still isn't a kilt

charlie: [big faux-innocent eyes] it isn't? but im wearing it in the... traditional way

des: wh- [realises what charlie means] [404 error, Desmond Hume.exe is not responding]

charlie: you can check me for authenticity if you like, brutha

yes, boys, make your ancestors scream out in horror

[johannacantsing]

UGH every time my uncle sees that I shared an Instagram post to my story that’s not conservative he tries to do a gotcha or something and I have to explain

“a lifetime term for a Supreme Court judge could maybe be capped bc some of them have been in that position of immense power before I was born and I’m 30. idk maybe that’s too much power for a random person”

and “yes technically the consumer protection bureau was set up for finances but 1 that shitbag musk owns PayPal so he’s got his greedy fingers in finances 2 he’s been crying about having too much regulation for years even tho his cars are the least safe EVs and his factories have three times the amount of OSHA violations as the next ten competitors combined so while technically the post didn’t differentiate that he still very much sucks in ways that are related to the CFPB and selling cars that explode with less regulations”

AND APPARENTLY “this is a direct quote from the stupid made up department for musk (instead of using the office of management and budget (u know I got that one in)) where he states explicitly that he wants to slash a bunch of regulations leading me to believe he wants to slash vast regulations and given his lax enforcement on regulations and safety now I think that could be bad :/“

Like I’m not even saying these in a combative way and I HATE when people come at me combative and act like it’s a debate in good faith (if it was in good faith I would have agreed to it instead of being accused of being stupid and not understanding the basics of our government)

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. The mirror.

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

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

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

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

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

“Did you come back for this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, just different things here and there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you still didn’t get his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turned, huh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Two places?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile at that.

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

From: 🦷🩸

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that okay with you?”

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

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

You want to hear him say it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m certain.”

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

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

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

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to, Johnny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-it’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-okay.”

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

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

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

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

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

[goodlucktai]

What about some hurt/comfort for Natsume & Natori? (Not slash tho)

Natori doesn't seem like he has anyone in his life to take care of him except his shikigami :(

x

"You need to sleep," Hiiragi says. Her tone is unchanging, an unhurried monotone, but somehow it manages to carry a thread of concern.

Shuuichi waves her off, sifting through papers. "In a minute. I just have to finish this."

A group of exorcists in over their heads sent these reports earlier today. Yesterday, now, Shuuichi amends inwardly with a bleary glance at the clock in the kitchen, which reads an inappropriately cheerful 6:07 AM. And they'll arrive to collect them, along with Shuuichi's notes, in just a few hours.

"They are presumptuous," Hiiragi says, "to assume you had this time to spare them, and on such short notice. You're busy."

"Not with anything that matters," Shuuichi laughs. It comes out not sounding like a laugh at all. Hiiragi tips her head incrementally to the side, no doubt staring at him behind her mask.

"Your work does matter."

"This work does," Shuuichi says, laying a hand on the papers scattered across the desk. "The other stuff-- "

"The 'stuff' that pays your bills," Hiiragi says. "The 'stuff' that keeps you fed, and gives you reason to leave your house and interact with people who won't make you think about ghosts."

It's Shuuichi's turn to stare. "I didn't realize you were such a firm believer in my acting career."

"I don't understand it," she says frankly. "But you enjoy it. It may not be.... 'vanquishing evil,'" she goes on, quoting the report the exorcists sent as if it's something slimy she's peeling off her shoe, "but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter."

It might be the lack of sleep talking, but Shuuichi feels strangely touched. He has to swallow before he can reply, something that happens rarely, if at all.

"I'll make sure to sign an autograph for you," he teases, grinning. "But only after I've finished this."

"Hm," Hiiragi says. She doesn't call him an idiot, at least. A few minutes after that she leaves from the living room window, ostensibly to patrol the neighborhood.

Shuuichi will just finish his notes, and then set an alarm for-- he checks the clock again, and winces-- and hour and a half. He'll get that much sleep, at least. He's worked with less.

At some point, the front door opens. That's odd. Only a few people have a key to his apartment, and none of them who do live anywhere near here. His shiki certainly don't use the door.

A familiar voice says, "Hi, Natori-san."

Shuuichi lifts his head, so fast his vision swims. There's Natsume, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room, hands full with a cardboard drink tray and a brown paper bag bearing the distinctive golden arches. He looks decidedly windblown, as if he flew the whole way here. He probably did.

His brow is wrinkled, mouth tucked into a frown. It's the way Shuuichi imagines Hiiragi's face looks behind her mask at least ninety-percent of the time.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Shuuichi says, pushing himself upright. He has to lean on the desk to get there. Natsume clocks it with a flick of his eyes but doesn't comment. "Don't you have school today?" Shuuichi goes on, desperately trying to remember what day it is. Friday, right?

"No school," Natsume says, putting the drinks and the bag on the counter. "Teacher's institute."

"Are you in trouble?" Shuuichi asks carefully.

"I have to be in trouble to come visit you?"

Natsume wanders into the sitting room and sets his messenger bag and his ugly cat down on the sofa. He actually points a stern finger at the cat in clear warning that it needs to behave itself, as if it isn't actually a giant monster capable of leveling buildings should it so choose. Something about that manages to be hilarious, where it isn't slightly horrifying.

Shuuichi smiles a bit. This weird kid means the world to him.

"Did you bring me breakfast?" he asks lightly. "I hope that's coffee."

Natsume is so receptive to any manner of kindness, even after the life he's lived, that he smiles back like a knee-jerk reaction. It still feels like an accomplishment when he does.

"Tea," he corrects. "And some egg sandwiches. The sausage ones are for sensei. Can you eat with me, or-- if you're too busy-- "

"I can take a break," Shuuichi says, and slings his arm around Natsume's shoulders, steering him back into the kitchen. "Let's talk about what dragged you all the way out here in the early hours of the morning, shall we? Does your mother know where you are?"

"Of course she does," Natsume insists. "She even sent some leftovers with me. I put them in the fridge already."

Shuuichi is in a vulnerable state, and that just about undoes him. He clears his throat and takes a big, scalding gulp of tea instead of saying or doing anything embarrassing. "Tell her I said thank you," he manages.

"Or you could just call her," Natsume points out dryly.

"Or I could just call her," Shuuichi agrees.

In his defense, Shuuichi truly didn’t stand a chance. The combination of heavy food and a hot drink… the pale fingers of dawn creeping through the shades at the kitchen window… the steady back-and-forth of comfortable, friendly conversation… no one asking anything of him, expecting anything from him, except his company…

He dozes off in his chair at the counter, face buried in his folded arms. He feels someone draw a blanket around his shoulders, their cold fingers lingering protectively near his nape, and Hiiragi’s voice says, “Thank you. He’s very stupid.”

“No he isn’t,” Natsume replies loyally. “Well, not all the time.”

It’s ridiculous how well Shuuichi sleeps after that.

He wakes up a solid ten hours later, the blanket slipping to the floor. The TV is on in the next room. Hiiragi is perched on the counter beside him. Her mask somehow manages to appear both smug and judgemental without actually changing at all.

“Sleep well?” she asks with no inflection.

“What-- time is it?” Shuuichi asks blearily, looking around for the clock.

“A little after four,” Hiiragi says. “Those exorcists have come and gone.”

“What?”

“They didn’t come inside. Natsume dealt with them at the door.”

“Sorry, Natori-san,” Natsume pipes up in the doorway. He shuffles a bit, self-conscious until Hiiragi seems to catch his eye. Then he lifts his chin a little and says, “You seemed tired, so I handled it. Hiiragi and Sasago both said it was okay.”

Betrayal, Shuuichi thinks, glaring hard at Hiiragi. She gazes serenely back, entirely unmoved. He’s firing her.

“Natsume, I appreciate it,” because there’s very little in this life that Natsume could do that Shuuichi wouldn’t back him up on, “but don’t talk to strangers. Even though they’re exorcists, that doesn’t automatically make them trustworthy.”

“I don’t trust most exorcists,” Natsume says plainly. “You’re one of, like, two exceptions.”

And there’s a lot to unpack there, but for some reason the first thing Shuuichi thinks of to ask is, “One of two? Who’s the other one?”

After a beat, in which Natsume looks as though he doesn’t want to answer, he admits, “Hakozaki-san.”

“Hak-- the recluse with the dragon shiki? The owner of that mansion we watched burn?” Shuuichi laughs, unable to help himself. It unwinds tension in his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Natsume, you never even met him!”

“I still liked him!” Natsume says hotly, embarrassed. “He was friends with yokai!”

“And I’m sure if he’d had the chance to know you, he would have spirited you away as his son and heir within two business days.” Shuuichi chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Lucky for me he didn’t have the chance, I suppose.”

Natsume huffs, but he still climbs into the seat next to Shuuichi. After a beat, Nyanko-sensei hops up into his lap.

“I might have gotten you in trouble with those exorcists,” the boy admits. “I told them to do their own homework from now on. That if they kept taking advantage of your kindness, you wouldn’t help them anymore.” He glances at Shuuichi sidelong from beneath his fringe, and adds, “They got mad, so I sicced sensei on them. I, um, think they thought he was my shiki. I also think they thought I’m from your clan. I couldn’t tell ‘cause they were all, um-- screaming, at the same time.”

And-- okay. There is a right and a wrong way to react to this, clearly. A teenage boy using his terrifying yokai friend to menace people within Shuuichi’s network? Not good! Very bad, even!

But Shuuichi has to lean forward against the counter, face buried in his hands, because he’s absolutely howling with laughter. Natsume is stammering, trying to explain himself, but he doesn’t say sorry. He isn’t sorry for sticking up for Shuuichi. He showed up at Shuuichi’s apartment at seven AM with McDonald’s on his day off from school, and chased a bunch of exorcists out of the building, because his friend needed a break and that’s just the kind of person Natsume is.

The kind of person who deserves something fancy for dinner tonight, Shuuichi decides, and he’s still smiling as he reaches for his phone.

Hiiragi places it neatly in his hand.

“I don’t want your autograph,” she says. She doesn't call him an idiot out loud, but she's probably thinking it.

Hell, he’ll order something fancy for her, too.

[tamanone]

fic tag game

thank you for tagging me @pearthery!

Name(s): rizu

Fandoms: in terms of fic, mainly joker game and gintama

Where you post: ao3

Most popular one-shot (by kudos):

Overall: to live with yourself

This year: ad meliora

Most Popular Multi-chap (also by kudos):

Overall: (looking away in shame) ...disposition alone

This year: haven’t posted any. but also technically aqua terrarium? because i do plan on having the 2nd part out by the end of this year. hopefully. fingers crossed

Favorite story you’ve written so far: ohh you shouldn’t ask a parent to play favorites... but i’m gonna be honest, it’s at the mercy of the light, because i’ve been wanting to write a youkai au since FOREVER and i was so lucky that was one of the prompt option listed by my giftee

Fic you were nervous to post: all of them, for different reasons. fics i wrote for gift exchange events (make this daring motion; to live with yourself; at the mercy of the light) make me nervous bc, well, i have a specific person to impress. ad meliora was bc idk how people are going to respond to the whole parental aspect. disposition... i didn’t think anyone was going to even bother glancing at this really, REALLY obscure crack ship. basically i’m never NOT nervous when i’m about to publish a fic

How do you choose your titles: mostly song titles / song lyrics. disposition alone is from an austen quote tho

Do you outline: not really. even on the times where i have the plot points mapped out in my mind, i rarely write it down, bc i tend to change things on the spot as i’m writing and outlines makes me feel pressured to stick to it and that ends up limiting my creativity. at most i’d make some kind of a rough outline for fics where the timeline actually matters (e.g. mercy & disposition)

Complete: 10

In progress: 2

Coming soon: currently, 1 that’s hopefully coming out within the next month, and 2 more in nov

Not started: oh, countless. i like throwing out random scenarios and ideas in my gf’s & my friends’ dms and then never doing anything with them lmao. i do have some that i’ve been toying with a lot in my brain though. mainly for weiss kreuz

Prompts?: hmm, i’m not really good with those one word prompt thingy. but if you give me like “sakataka at ryousuke’s parent-teacher meeting” or like “wk kapitel ep 2 missing scene where youji found out about the helicopter fiasco” then i’m like ‘ok sure yeah let’s do this’... you know?

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: 2 of the three i mentioned before, 1 is a sktk canon-verse fic, and it’s kinda angsty and i hope others find it as delicious as i do, the other one is a gen / sort of pre-slash aya-youji fic that is... also sad... but includes a very soft bonding moment and i like it a lot

No Pressure Tags: @shiroyeesha @yoshifics

[mousehole5000]

 this is it... the final post.... 226 through THE END!!!!!

this shit with mu qing and the river of lava is SOOOO dramatic im loving it

oh my god theyre on a FUCKING bridge of course they are okay let’s go boys

“You’re right. We’re alike. You think me odd, I think you to be rather weird too.” - so what im getting from this is that xie lian and mu qing are the only characters in this book with working gaydar okay yup got it this checks out

god... the fact that xie lian is ready to be like “look mu qing we can just forget about the past it doesnt matter we dont have to be friends i know you dont like me but im not gonna let you die over it” and then mu qing is like “.... god i really do admire you huh”

“You...certainly...are rather amazing. You’re...also...a better person...than me. Long story short, I...very much wanted...to become your f-f-friend.”  - going to think about this for the rest of all time im about to become utterly unintelligible im overcome with emotions

“And, at the end of the white silk band, Feng Xin was gripping Ruoye with one hand while the other was holding on to a steel-faced Mu Qing, and he shouted towards him.” - the fucking IMAGE of this im gonna cry this is everything i could have asked for im so happy also mu qing dangling there like “ welp. guess ill live“

“Feng Xin was almost burnt by that pillar of fire, and he shouted in outrage. “WHAT’S WITH THIS BAND OF DOG SHITS, ATTACKING PEOPLE WHILE THEY’RE DOWN, SO VILE! FUCK YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!” Xie Lian responded, “IF THEIR ENTIRE FAMILIES ALL LOOK LIKE THAT, YOU SURE YOU WANT TO FUCK THEM??” - theyre so funny!!! and theyre best friends!!! theyre joking together now in the middle of all this i could cry theyre back!!!

“Using sticks as arrows, he held the bow with one hand and used his teeth to bite back the bowstring.” - no clue how practical this is but okay archer boy. hot

i actually have so many little quips between the three of them highlighted but we’d be here all night if i included them all. im literally so delighted by this omg worth the wait

“Each sabre strike slashed to the bone. It wasn’t like Xie Lian had never seen Hua Cheng use the sabre before in the past, but his style had always been easy and leisurely, nonchalant and casual. Rather than say he was handling a weapon, it was more like he was toying with a small knife. Yet those blade marks were filled with killing intent. It was easy to imagine just how skilled the one exchanging blows with him was, and how perilous this battle.” you have no idea how mad i was when i read this and thought we missed witnessing the fight between hc and jw omg

“Behind him, Feng Xin muttered, “Dear fucking god, may all the gods and buddhas grant their blessings, that better absolutely be Crimson Rain Sought Flower, otherwise he’s gonna go mad!” “Stop your rubbish,” Mu Qing berated. “We’re all the gods and buddhas ourselves and we can’t grant shit, just keep up with him! Look at the stumbling way he’s running, he’s gonna trip and fall to his bloody death before he even sees the man!” - okay i know i said no more quips but this is literally too funny i just wanted to read it again

“ However, for whatever reason, that vicious ghost, in its muddled state, took that large group of live mortals under its wing and fled for many days. In the end, they were still surrounded by millions of ghosts, trapped in a dead end, and it was going to be eaten along with those humans.” [...] “That vicious ghost almost made a move against those humans, but for some reason, in the end, it didn’t. It instead used one of its own eyes as the price to forge a blood weapon. That vicious ghost was already forcibly hanging on with its last breath; after digging out its eye it should’ve broken apart completely. Yet somehow something had shocked it, and it instead woke to its senses completely. “ - THIS IS AMAZING ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? IS THIS ALL WE GET ABOUT HIS GHOSTLY LORE?????? HUA CHENGGGGGGGG

“What a terrible offence, his old habit had come out, and he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to listen to me!” Hua Cheng, however, only smiled happily. “Everything gege tells me is the best advice, so why wouldn’t I listen?” - this isnt the fucking time afjdkfjsdkl they really never stop

“So you can hold the illusion of a perfect Crown Prince of Wuyong to face and dismiss the Jun Wu now. Isn’t that your objective? Did you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” “THAT’S NOT IT!” Guoshi cried. “Stop getting tied up in right and wrong, victories and defeat, I’VE NEVER THOUGHT THAT WAY BEFORE!” - jun wu only being able to see xie lian as his successor and believing that thats all anyone else sees too... okay

honestly this whole final showdown was a blast i cant put everything in but it was so much fun to read. the DRAMA the LAVA the SHOUTING t

“Hua Cheng had poured too much spiritual power into him. There really was too much, so much that it was completely outside the amount the cursed shackle could withstand.” - okay.... okay... the love you give will set you free... okay....

“With Jun Wu in his grip, he carried both their bodies and forcefully slammed into the incomparably-solid rock wall! He used all of his power in this smash, and in the rumbling and crashing of rocks, he also heard the sound of something breaking.” [...] “A moment later, Jun Wu suddenly asked, “That move. What is it called?” “...” Xie Lian raised his sleeve and wiped away the blood on the side of his face. “Shattering boulders on the chest.” YES!!!!! YES!!!!! xie lian actually lived that life!!!!!! i loved this detail so much

“After a moment of silence, Xie Lian took off the bamboo hat carried on his back, took it in his hand, and covered it over Jun Wu’s face.” - xie lian... good... another detail i love. a hat that protects from the rain, given in a moment of need, even to someone who has caused you hardship... we do not forget the kindness granted to us

“There was gratefulness, there was shame, there was heartache, there was wild joy, but above all else, there was incurable love.” - :pleading: i wish it was just that easy tbh. “i have to tell you about the worst parts of myself” “ive already seen them and i dont care i still love you“ truly the dream

“ It’s been so long since anyone listened to me talk, won’t you stay? Don’t...actually do this. I won’t be able to take it. Twice, it’s been twice already! I really don’t want there to be a third time!!!” - the bit about just wanting someone to listen to him talk... xie lian... :(

emily corpse bride moment.... i knew it had to happen.... butterflies.... death and rebirth.... inevitable

xianle trio bickering about ruoye..... mu qing complaining but not letting anyone else fix it... im so happy

“The Rain Master sat down on the spot, looking like she was going to perform a passing service for her. After all, Xuan Ji was the only one left of the Kingdom of Yushi besides herself.”  - xuan ji you sure the hell were... a character. this little moment tho..... yushi huang... many thoughts

“ Who hasn’t made promises, or swore to the mountains and the seas when they were young? Talking of affection, of love, of forevers. But, the longer I hang around in the world, the more I understand, something like ‘forever’ is impossible. It’s never going to be possible. Having it once was already good enough. No one can truly achieve it. I don’t believe in it anymore.” - jian lan im happy for you bummer it didnt work out with feng xin but yeah that was looooong ago. also this quote me same mood kin but its chill. having it once was already good enough

although yeah tbh if theres anyone who can have a forever like that... it would be a ghost and a god

fasdfjadklfj GOD... pour one out for ling wen.. but is that not the truth of this world? the one can be pardoned for being good at paperwork that no one else wants to do? isnt that the plot of the shawshank redemption?

okay but the fact that all xie lian’s friends come to visit him while he waits for hua cheng is making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.... fengqing coming together to try to get him out of the house but get scared off by his cooking... amazing

“Last time, they spent eight hundred years running towards each other. This time, it only took an instant to fall into each other’s embrace.” - im completely unaffected by this. im not lying i swear (i am lying im very emotionally affected)

okay i love this final wrap up chapter party its so fun. mu qing moving on from the broom thing!!! good for him!! the beggars get their reward!!! the fun ghost city chefs!! SQX!!!! and he xuan is?? here too??? he’s hungry??? fjadlkfjsdl

“The grounds that Feng Xin and Mu Qing had just swept were once again filthy from that giant crowd of muddy feet. Mu Qing gripped his broom, looking like he felt someone had infected him with fleas, and his eyes were wide.” - me when my dad comes into the kitchen when ive just finished washing dishes i get it king

the little folklore bit... fun!!! oh my god its over..... :(

that was really fun i had a blast reading it and on the whole really liked it i WISH soo badly that hua cheng had gotten more outside of being cunty and devoted even tho those are both important i just wish there was more about like how he got by during those 800 years and like did he ever have doubts? what shaped his worldview was it all xie lian or was it his experience as a mortal as well? why is he so mean to e’ming? theres bits and pieces here and there and i know it was already SO long but that really would have been great if there was more about hc cuz tbh by the end, at least for me, the hualian relationship didnt actually feel as fleshed out as the xianle trio relationship like i still liked hualian’s dynamic and it was really sweet how much they clearly really liked each other and  everything but i kind of wish some of the other subplots had been dropped or diminished in favor of more hc development i think that would have been cool

but anyway thats some of my thoughts and i really did enjoy the hell out of book 5 that was a riot and uhhh thanks to everyone who read these or commented *lends you spiritual energy through a high five*

[cassatine]

Starting a new thread for chapter two of Queen’s Shadow otherwise I’ll end up with a behemoth thread and no one deserves that. 

There were some interesting tidbits on Padmé’s royal wardrobe I’d seen floating around before - fabrics treated with blaster fire-resistant resin, brooches concealing recording devices or a personal shield, etc. Very everything has a function - disguise, protection, spying - although not at the expanse of form, because the Naboo are extremely serious about Aesthetics. It’s bling or not to bling on Naboo, “an environment that was not based on technology but based on beauty and a whole different mindset from the more technological cultures” (TPM Commentary, starting 00:09:30). I might make a quotes compilation at some point - probably should have started with that but whatever - but for now I’ll just note commentaries and featurettes lay it on thick about the Naboo being all about Beauty and especially the integration of technology and nature - which would deserve its own commentaries esp. in light of the Gungan Situation.

But for now I’ll keep to pointing that imo it makes for an interesting tension, with on the one hand this aesthetic of The Natural, and on the other the codified, hieratic artificiality of the Naboos’ performance of power. They’re into the ceremonial, hardcore. It’s good fake discourse material.

I kind of wonder how much Naboo spends on queenly gowns tho, considering their elections take place every two years with a two terms limit, but also if weaponizing the queen’s wardrobe is a tradition harking back to less peaceful times, along with the whole role of handmaiden slash decoy (which does seem traditional), or if it’s something Padmé established post-invasion. I’m leaning towards the first, if only because it works for me. 

Padmé’s queenly voice fits with that too:

The ceremonial tone gave Sabé’s words an additional weight, making her seem too old for her young face. It was another part of their living, moving disguise. [...]

Queen Amidala spoke in her oddly inflectionless tone. It was a voice Padmé and Sabé had developed together so that either of them could execute it flawlessly, though the others were all more or less proficient with it. 

The thing with the “living, moving disguise” is that if Padmé’s a principled pacifist, local ruler of a Naboo that’s been peaceful for a long time with no expectations of that to change until TPM, there are no immediate reasons for her to basically go around covered in kevlar with decoys at the ready. The Naboos don’t particularly seem to be about the “just in case” mindset overall but they do dig the ceremonial, so yeah all in all my favourite option for the disguise strategy is that it’s one of a few holdovers from the not-so-peaceful era of their history. 

Previous notes: Chapter 1

[jamesvanriemsdyk]

NHL asks, random q: I THINK you like both the flyers and leafs. Who would you add/remove from the flyers slash leafs to make better but also still fit with the teams general vibe and closeness?

first of all why in god’s name did you put an actual slash in one part of this sentence and then write out the word slash like three words later. i had to read this like three times because i couldnt understand wtf was going on fsjkghskfg anon please

second of all: the leafs already removed the player i wanted gone. i wanted kapanen gone for all of this season and honestly most of the last. dont call/dont text about the freddie rumors, but im also like. generally okay with him going. like, i did cry about it the other day, but i know its probably for the best. another one is tyson barrie, honestly. not for who he is off the ice, i love him and his vibes, but like his season..........regardless of the b*bcock shit, it just wasnt a good season for him, and i think we need better dmen. sorry, tys. i do love you. but yeah thats about it tbh. also this is a pipe dream and itll never happen, but to quote a tweet i saw once, the sexual tension between leafs fans and matt tkachuk is just,, incredible tbh. id love to see him on the leafs. (also, quick tangent: i have some hot takes about the leafs locker room in that i actually dont think the ROOM is as close as we think it is. theres friendships there obviously, but i think the problem with the leafs is that there’s something rotten in the room, whether thats the chemistry or the leftover crap from b*bcock or what, i dont know, but yeah)

third of all: as for the flyers, i just want oskar and nolan to come back and frosty to get pulled up. i dont care about anything else, this team is perfect the way it is, i have literally never loved a team like i love the 19-20 flyers and i want them to continue to be this exact same team (with all our guys back and frosty) in 20-21. its constant loving the flyers hours on this blog and in my head and heart (and dick). as violet just said, “rent free but in a good way.” i literally love this team so much, literally the only thing id see different is nate thompson as the healthy scratch instead of morgan frost (tho i understand he needs development and thompson has been good etc etc ect). i just love them so much yknow

[subtext-bycalvinklein]

[you have probably already seen the first half of this because I am dumb and I posted it without making sure it was saved in full. I apparently am REALLY bad at making Tumblr work. Not that I am surprised by that, but still.]

Hi, I know, long time no see, I’m still a tinhat-wearing garbage-can who has no idea how to properly use Tumblr and English still isn’t my first language so kindly forgive any mistakes, but I’ve been on a good omens lockdown for the past two months and unfortunately I have Big Thinky Thoughts

The point is- book!Aziraphale&Crowley are very different from TV!Aziraphale and Crowley. But not in the sense that they’re different characters: they are the very same characters you see in the book, it’s just… They act differently. I’ve spent the last fortnight turning in bed, asking myself WHAT made them feel so different from the book and WHY it was. And then it hit me: the TV show characters operate under a system of beliefs that the book characters have already overcome. This makes sense, because while the book characters to me feel more settled and “static”, in the same way two old dudes who are just waiting for retirement have already grown into their skin and mostly know who they are, TV!A&C feel a lot younger to me, and we have the pleasure of watching their character as they develop, as they become more and more aware of who they are and what they want. Because THAT ultimately is the point: neither of them is really, completely AWARE of the point they’ve “gone native” up until the last episode.

I think it’s way easier to see in Aziraphale: in the book, he doesn’t shy away from bad deeds, he seems to acknowledge his “”“moral greyness”“” and the fact that his loyalty to Crowley overrides his loyalty to heaven -and that this isn’t something he is supposed to do, but his loyalty to the Arrangement is way more profound than his acquiescence towards heaven. His identity is not just formed around the fact that he is an angel: that’s just part of it, and that’s what makes it easier for him to be aware of his “bit of a bastard”. It doesn’t come as a surprise, for him, just as the spark of goodness isn’t surprising for Crowley. It’s just something they avoided talking about because, well, if anyone else had heard them, it wouldn’t have ended well. (But we’ll come back to this later on.) TV!Aziraphale, instead, seems to base almost all of his identity (what he consciously decides it’s his identity) solely on the fact that he is an angel: he HAS to be good, he HAS to do what is right. All those things he does that he knows are frowned upon in Heaven are quickly discarded, considered outliers, because they cause such great cognitive dissonance he cannot bear it. At first, he seems to be starting to question the Great Plan, but around the time Crowley comes asking for the holy water¹, he seems to realise fully how dangerous everything they’re doing is, and sweeps all of his doubts under a big, heavy rug of denial. Because it’s either that, or being wiped off the face of the Earth (and the whole creation) or completely losing his identity by Falling (because he wouldn’t be an angel anymore, and he’s based on this facet of himself like 99% of his identity), which is A Huge Effing Deal, especially since it’s the narrative of himself he’s been building for almost six millennia. So, Aziraphale has put in place a system of beliefs which says: God created Angels. God is perfect, and since The Almighty created Angels to be good, they are good. Therefore, I am Good, and I cannot be anything else. Does this take into account that “Good” is a broad definition that changes with the point of view? Nope. It doesn’t take into account, either, the fact that Heaven and Hell are, in truth, just names for sides, and not that different at all. Another mistake Aziraphale does it’s an attributional error: he thinks that everything good he does it’s because he’s an angel, and therefore supposed to be good, and expects other angels to be like him, when often it’s really Aziraphale *as an individual* who does Good Deeds.

Belief systems aren’t inherently Bad: they give us fixed points² in the sea of change, and it’s vital for us to have them. Belief systems become Bad the moment they don't serve their purpose anymore: that is, when instead of being helpful, they hold you back from understanding, from exploring possibilities. And that's what happens to Aziraphale and, to some extent, Crowley: they both cling to their beliefs even tho they're shown time and time again that what they think it's wrong, and they choose to cling to them because the alternative is to float in the sea of the unknown.

It is only once Aziraphale confronts the falseness of his beliefs (the moment he faces the Angels and they tell him they won't prevent the Apocalypse) that he is able, once and for all, to eradicate his belief system and integrate in a new sense of Self all of those traits he usually denied about himself.

What about Crowley, then? His belief system looks a liiittle bit more grounded in reality... Except not really. While, yes, he seems less bound to Hell, and justly distrustful, he doesn't fare all that better. It's just more tricky to recognise, because it's more about Crowley himself than it is about heaven or hell.

Book!Crowley, since the beginning, is literally a very tired, very old, very uncool entity who is just waiting to retire from a job he hates to spend his time tending to his plants and doting on his adversary-slash-bestfriend-slash-husband. He is pretty much aware of the fact that, while he loves mischief, he doesn't like actively harming anyone, is really repulsed by the idea of hurting deeply someone. He knows this, and knows Aziraphale knows this. He just doesn't like stating it out in the open because he is a paranoid bastard afraid anyone will overhear them -and rightly so, I might add, because, as stated beforehand, there will be Consequences. When Aziraphale tells him he is, after all, nice, he's resigned, because being nice doesn't make being a demon very easy. But that trait is already stark clear in his Self-image, and he acts accordingly.

TV!Crowley, tho? The moment he is dubbed "nice" literally explodes in anger.

This is not about "telling the whole blessed world", this is about Crowley not having the faintest idea he has the spark of goodness inside himself. He has convinced himself that since he Fell, since he is a demon, he must be Bad. And this, imho, is reflected in the way he takes credit for the Really Bad Stuff humans have done, as well: he is trying so bad to uphold the image of a Big Bad Demon, he tries to rejoice when people do bad stuff, even though it's clear he doesn't like it one bit.

And that's because if his and Aziraphale's belief system have one thing in common, is their trust in God: if the Almighty cast him out of heaven, there must have been a reason, and that reason is that, deep down, he isn't good. Crowley's self image is built all around that, as much as his acts of kindness probably end up mislabeled as selfishness³. And that is because he cannot accept that his Fall, something that still plagues him after six millennia, that has left him with such a scar that his plants take the brunt of it, was just over "asking questions". The punishment doesn't fit the "crime", and it's difficult, if not impossible, for the human, or occult, or ethereal mind to accept that sometimes events so painful happen for no reason.

It's imperative, then, for the dismantling of his disfunctional belief system, that he confronts the truth: there is very little inherently Evil within himself. And that moment occurs when a desperate Crowley talks to God Herself (Themselves? I'm not sure if the Almighty uses they/them or she/her, sorry) and admits that the only wrong thing he did was asking questions. From then on, he slowly becomes able to face his own spark of goodness, to admit it in his own Self-image.

In conclusion: while it makes sense that the book characters had their moment of acknowledgement in the middle of the action, as it's a truth they already knew from the beginning and, since they were about to face Consequences anyway, they might as well voice it aloud, it is just as apt for the TV characters to say it at the very end of the story, because for them it's a starting point to the rest of their existences: they finally fully know who they are and what they want, and they will start the rest of the journey with that knowledge.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, some of the swearing is censored not because I disapprove of it but because I don't want Tumblr to decide it shouldn't be posted in the tag and, as we've previously established, I'm really bad at this.

Footnotes and be thankful this is just the work of an evening of procrastination because I'm known for "making metas that require a bibliography" but I didn't have the time to check my social psy books

1: I might expand on this someday, but I actually have Thoughts on the whole "Aziraphale Being An Heaven-Abiding Angel" thing, and how it heavily relates to Crowley and Aziraphale's dynamic; the holy water break-up in the 19th century seemed a good milestone for the moment

2. Yes, I was thinking of the whole "fixed point in a changing age" thing from His last bow, and yes, my eyes got misty while writing it and I don't have any allergies to blame it onto. My brain is an attic and it's full of ACD Canon quotes and by this point I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted to.

3. This is heavy tinhatting but I honestly feel like he often tries to pass off his kindness as "I like this and I want this so I have to do something". The clearest example is: he feels that the whole world shouldn't be destroyed because it's unfair? Surely it's just because he likes living here, not because he cares, pfffftttttt

*saunters vaguely back to studying*

[quietlysatan]

Hear The Wheels As They Roll - crossroadswrite, AO3

Link: Here!!

Rating: T

Favorite Quote(s): God this hurts, my ex-stepdad was like this

Two people want to have a baby, they want to have a cute little thing to show off and call theirs but they don’t want a person. They don't want something that has opinions and talks back and doesn’t thread the thin line they set out for them. 

This reminds me of Actual BDSM, not like, anything sexual, because that’s not what BDSM usually IS, but more the aftercare and borderline codependency thing. I just really wish people actually knew what BDSM was about... It’s not nearly as sexual as media portrays, and 50 shades is an insult to the community.

For however much of a jackass Jackson acts like, all he’s ever really wanted was people who would look after them, he has a need to be supported and support and just be acknowledged and appreciated that might bother on codependency and there’s no bigger codependent relationship than that of a pack.

God I love the way people think when they fall in love

Blue flashing momentarily over his features, his chin tilted up into the night sky so he can watch, mouth a little open in awe with his bunny teeth peeking out, eyes wide and expression lax and unmarred by frowns.

I love kids, and I want absolutely no more than three of them.

“You said we could get curly fries. Mom said I could get curly fries ‘cause I got the best grade in Math after Lydia. When are we getting curly fri- doggy!” he coos, lunging across the back seat so he can smash his face against the window and coo at the labradoodle waltzing down the street.

“Don’t lick the window.”

“I’m not!”

“Stiles.”

“I’m not! I was seeing the doggy.

Gods, children are shitheads

“I need you to be quiet and stay in the car, okay Stiles,” he starts, “sit on the passenger side and don’t get out of the car no matter what. If you do there’s a world of pain waiting for you, get it.”

Stiles bobs his head vehemently, little hands clutching at the bars separating the backseat from the front.

“Scout’s honor.”

The Sheriff turns the siren off when they get close to the house. It just wouldn’t do for Mr. Martin to straighten things up before he could even catch him at it.

“You were never a scout.”

“And whose fault is that,” Stiles counters

How to make friends according to the McCall half of the Hale-McCall pack

Boyd gives him a bro nod before walking away.

Stiles squints after him before turning to Danny with a raised eyebrow. 

An hour later, Danny’s knocking on his door with everything there is to know about Vernon Boyd.

“Stiles! This is not how you make friends,” Scott complains from his place stretched out on Stiles’ bed and while he eats Stiles’ food. 

Stiles thinks that he has no ground to stand on.

“We’re just making sure he’s not a psycho killer, right Danny?”

“Yeah. It’s still pretty fucked up,” Danny concedes, the traitor.

Stiles makes an outraged noise, “Not my fault that Lydia basically trained us to be criminal masterminds.

Words & Chapter(s): 44,919 words and 2  chapters finished, but sadly no sequel coming, at least not for a while...

Summary: “You can’t be here. This is private property,” someone calls out and for some reason, that voice sounds painfully familiar.

When it hits him why, Stiles almost chokes with the realization, “Derek Hale,” he says, unbelievably happy because he remembers Derek when they were young.

Derek looks grumpier, sadder, angrier. Stiles can’t really fault him for that. He also looks surprised that Stiles knows who he is. He squints/glares suspiciously at him, his nostrils flare for a second before he widens his eyes almost dramatically.

“Stiles,” he says quietly like he can’t really believe it.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, you remember me!”

Score: 13

Pairing(s): Pre-slash Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, background Sheriff Stilinski/Claudia Stilinski

Warning(s): Season one canon compliance technically, as in the bus driver dies, The Hale Fire happens, Peter loses his mind, etc.

Isaac’s dad is a bitchass, but he goes to jail and Stiles saves Isaac so it’s fine.

Jackson’s parents are dick ass cunts that don’t deserve him and casually neglect him like canon.

Lydia’s abusive dad is dealt with. He lives sadly tho. He’s not mentioned again as of this fic.

Scott’s dad is still a dick.

Mentions of Erica’s seizures, and the youtube incident. It’s handled though.

Kate Argent is a creepy fucking pedophile and I’m almost happier that she’s in a coma hopefully slowly descending into a creeping lingering sort of madness never to be truly seen again. Hopefully, she dies. 

Derek, the martyr, gets shot but is nearly immediately fine.

Scott also gets shot and is immediately fine.

Derek goes through the Kate Argent torture thing.

Stiles shoots Kate sort of on accident but he’s fine, no worries.

Pros: The writing is fantastic, in character, and yet original, it’s technically canon compliant so-to-speak at times about like, the main storyline, see warnings.

It’s a fresh take on an old idea, and I love it, especially the little hints of Stiles magic here and there, I think OP was intending for this to be a mate!fic, but I don’t have confirmation of that.

I love everyone in this fic, and the way they’re written is fantastic really.

It’s just such a good story, and I really want everyone to see it.

Gif Aesthetic: It’s Stiles!! in a nutshell but Stiles none the less!!!

Everyone @ Derek and/or Boyd... Actually, Stiles and Lydia @ everybody

And also

[sikereviewdotcom]

wilfred (2011) - season 1 ep1 “happiness” review

ok so today were reviewing fucking "wilfred" basically its a story about a depressed guy who tried to kill himself but he failed because hes a pushover in life and even suicide is mocking him yea jk actually his sis prescribed him placebo so the meds he used in his suicide attempt were useless yada yada

then he sees his neighbours (on who he tots have the hots for) dog as a man and hes like lol wtf why is there a furry standing in my yard? im not into dogplay dudette, please dont do this to me ah-

unfortunately for him the chick, on the next day asks to take care of her dog meanwhile because idk shit happens in her house? and she has to work? yea something like that so anyway he accepts because hes into her and out of it aswell more out of it than anything tho

our man, ryan is pretty disturbed but it happens anyway he has NO control over his life so why would he have control on  a dog fursuit wearing 40 yo man? yea exactly wouldnt make sense

wilfred enters his house and smoke a damn bong thats right, a very efficient way to introduce what kind of character were up against see, jason gann has the perfect face for such character looking all dirty in that suit with a big ass black painted dog nose you gotta think "that dawgs up to no good" and youd be damn right keep reading to discover why so basically nm happens in this episode if it isnt the setting of all the shit because well ryan has a lot of issues and its gonna get worse you cant believe this dog is gonna make things better for ryan not really hes just scamming the loser with cheap tricks and drugs

btw after (trying) to vape or w/e with wilfred, the man falls asleep, wakes up because his sis whos a bitch, remember her

its important to spot whos a bitch in each show ill be reviewing its pretty easy to balance whos the antagonist and who isnt although it often is much more complexe than that which is why im here making it all very easy and very interesting, aside from lost cases like the magic school bus i cant make that shit any worse nor TOO better like i have limited power my reviews are sike but some shows are just nah back to our whipped cream: ryans depression: he is jobless ok? so his sis is mad that he doesnt make the effort to come work and do what he has to also he used to be a lawyer btw because his father wanted him to be and then his father died and he lost his job and he hated being a lawyer so w/e but he also seemingly lost all reasons to live and redacted more than one suicide letter so im not sure what to think about it he was really eager to die yknow his sis couldnt care less tho its like "yo stop ruining my image im trynna get you a job in my hospital fuckface" yea see that why shes an inconsiderate bitch

so instead of going to work because of wilfred, ryan takes him for a while btw that vermin also tries to get elijah (the actor playing ryan is elijah wood obvs btw so this series already gets 5 points to begin with i dont make the rules) to throw a tennis ball and dont forget this ball ok? its gonna come back and start a whole drama its the beginning of our adventure a ball

next theyre in a restauration thing eating chips and drinking a beer together dog and his friend then the waitress comes and

happens the tiddies eating, it almost one fucking minute im sure we could all feel the embarassement of having your animal rubbing its balls and penis against your friend whos over for the nights leg in the middle of spring and youre just trying to get it back but wow the hormones are hitting it hard its like a cleaning robot vibrating on a grandma whos cardiacs chest and you trynna take that little asshole away but for some reason its rubbed in olive oil so not only does it reeks of olive, its also slippery as heck and you can see your grandma spasmming on her soon-to-be deathbed, she has spasms for god sake no the robot no someone stop it from stimulating the old ladys torso ah shit marguerite died after drowning in her drooling 

not even died of an heart attack nah, it was such a messy death she suffered so much no one could do anything its like the robot was sentient yknow and well same goes for wilfred hes making it on purpose but uses the excuse : he likes the boobs it nothing personal, ryan

w/e they leave after paying (not for the side tits tho, it was a freebie for dogs) after that shit happens (i wont spoil you EVERYTHING, im just painting a pic here ok?) at this point you could wonder "is wilfred being a dick on purpose or its just about said instincts? how much percentage of his behavior is actually dog and how much is ryans mind (the guy is deranged  there is no denying that but how much? )) whats sure is that his owner likes her dog vm and hes maining that chick

good for him? but it also happens that before that, elijah just threw the ball above the gate and into his much less friendly neighbour because he was sick of the dog asking to throw it and so yea, there is a tension between ryan and wilfred not any kind of tension, exactly the kind of elija x reader fanfic i wanted to read except pov: im a canine furry and i smoke weed on a daily basis and im a jackass

theyre almost breaking up someone does something about it i was seriously getting into it wow oh no fuck look at me tearing one or two here

rip their new born bromance? or... is it all there is to it? well see no obviously its the problem we were waiting for because when our fella enters back home and idk whatever else happens its night and his sister comes home and she goes all "lol actually i gave you placebo itd be dangerous otherwise you numbfuck" but shes quickly muted once our man notices his dog friend in his yard... its time for a reunion a heart to heart conversation to proceed so he has to ditch his sis which he casually does bros before hoes

its again about the ball which HE WILL go and fetch by passing over the fence to get in neighbours yard but damn it cant be just that? wouldnt it make a lame crappy story? we need some actions, we got the tits, the beer, no job, delinquency has no limit so fuck it says the dog as he smashes the window and enters the bikers house because he SMELLS (like he smells the shit streaks you have on your pants) the weed, ryan is like "no fuck bro no shit fuck ah-" then sees the damn weed which they steal ok? hes really a pushover he has not got the right idea of stopping being one because thats what his new friends supposed to be here for yknow trynna get his loser into a winner, that lil camper gotta level up his game, go get into the business of life barging in kicking the door to enter, no shame nor hesitation were trying to make him STEP UP for HIMSELF but guess what? ill tell you later or itd be a spoil in a spoil surely a bad paradoxal medium w/e business going on blablabla theyre up to no good thats for sure as sure as how much ryans actually enjoy this the mans into this pee slash poop affair:

spoiler alert: he does it and

im just quoting him here : he never felt more alive nor glad to be so i guess thats whats life about shitting in peoples affair, stealing weed plants and quitting your job on your first day (you havent showed up tho so w/e you never really worked in that place no one knows you its all good you can get back in that place looking innocent and smiling with your broken ribs "yea nah i never had a job here and ditched yall huh" thats foxy of him kinda but not really since he had no intention back then to do anything for himself it was all strings pulled by a fucking dog hilarious really im having a kick haha no

so what next? theyre best friends? man and dog, a wonderful friendship happens he has no more family to support him but HE HAS A DOG guys he was so into it im feeling sorry for this hobot-to-be schizophrenic man

i wont spoil you but trust me when i say not to trust a furry who eats tits on your first date

in conclusion: it was a pretty decent first episode ill update my final thoughts on the first season once im done watching it but so far its recommandable the camera work is pretty cool like its not just thoughtless filming we actually have a nice feel to it, the setting of the series is esthetically pleasing you get nice colors and it aint boring, its not like a FRIENDS episode yknow? dawg i dislike how boring it looks filming wise for start but damn i aint reviewing FRIENDS rn so next, the comedy? after all its a comedy genre series not a drama, idk if id review an actual depressive show on here thatd bum the vibe out ok? i know im making all my revs awesome w/e it is that i choose to rate and comment but still im serving you a plate of my finest sheez not any fizzle in the mizzle ok?

anyway yea the humor aint bad, i havent laughed my ass of but i did find it amusing to watch the jokes may actually kick in in the second episode ill have to update this rev alright? just hang on to your balls peeps this fam will serve in due time

rating: 7,5/10 scenery/camera work 7/10 comedy 8/10 interest/entertaining points total: 7,5/10 for a first episode is fine enough to be recommanded, like a "give it a chance" sorta case yknow isnt the most hilarious show youll watch but its fine especially if youre into homoromantic tension between a furry and elijah wood 

jk 

tg, out

[asterdeer]

flower ask meme: arum-lily, aster, baneberries, basket of gold, black-eyed susan, blazing stars, borage, bulgeherb, camelia, candytuffs, carnation, cock's comb, common boneset, daisy, false goat's beard, freesia, garden cosmos, gladiolus, rosemallows, transvaal daisy, and tropical white morning glory

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger? gave a man my lunch and cash when he came up to my window while i was idling at a red light? stayed five minutes past closing time to tell someone how to get somewhere even tho im terrible at directions

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes? “I believe that if a woman poet survives, if she sets out on that distance and arrives at the other end, then she has an obligation to tell as much as she knows of the ghosts within her, for they make up, in essence, her story as well.”contrariwise“I am not well-adjusted. More often than not, I am barely keeping it together. I’m constantly texting, and there’s no one on the other end. I’m just a grown man who can’t even look his own friends in the eye for too long because I’m afraid that they’ll see that I’m broken. So, you get credit for that. One time, when I was in 7th grade, I told everybody at school I had appendicitis. I wanted somebody to worry about me, but when Beth Brennan asked to see the scar I didn’t wanna get found out. So, I took mom’s scissors, and I made one. It hurt like hell. But it was worth it because I got 17 cards, and I still keep them in a box underneath my bed 22 years later because it proves that someone at some point cared about me. Want to see the scar?”

Baneberries: Favorite song? atm its either “high hopes” by panic!, “quarter past midnight” by bastille, or “when the night is over” by lord huron

Basket of Gold: Describe your familyim best friends with my mom, my brother terrifies me bc i love him so much, my granddad was my best teacher of selflessness and sacrifice, my cousin who was my best friend fell apart at exactly the same time i did and we never really got back together, i met my twin when i was like fourteen and needed them most, i have a grandmother who ended up teaching me more of what not to do than anything else, and i did in fact have a father, all evidence to the contrary

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?a giraffe. no doubt

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why? 101 things ! spiders because one crawled into my bed when i was 12 at five in the morning and my cat woke me up because it was just there at my feet, also never having someone fall in love w me, also watching everyone leave me when they figure out im worthless ! mostly spiders

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood. there was a very shallow sort of…. gorge? ravine? it was like a steep drop off in the land down to a v rocky stream that cut behind our house in our old neighborhood. they didnt let us play there often bc my brother’s then-best friend slipped and cut his foot bad but i loved it back there + if i had been reading warriors at that point it would have been my clan camp fs

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?  slashing the tires of as many animal abusers as i could find. then go rent a boat and take my family/friends out on the water. pass out some macarons maybe? gravestone shaped macarons? make everyone read some of four quartets out loud. also cuddle my cat a whole WHOLE whole lot 

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go? ive wanted to visit ireland for literally as long as i can remember

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved? when i havent eaten for a good while

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?  mucha-esque loki tee shirt and my mom’s fluffy cloud pajama pants

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?lydian bc it reminds me of when i was 10 and my cousin and i were writing our stories on the same computer and that was the font we used

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?everybodys workin for the weekend. captain marvel comes out next week too

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment? 1) winning the novel contest 2) making people laugh during my thesis defense 3) not offing myself during 2014 or 2017

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?embarrassing myself! 

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month? 1) job 2) sushi 3) staying till almost midnight at a friend’s house talking whcih was the most ive actually been touched by a person besides my mom in weeks

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?exhausting but i got a lot of reading done

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two? submit a novel for publication. try to get into an editing program. grow potatoes and cucumbers, revive/expand my catnip and rosemary. donate money and buy art and take trips and make better food

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory? literally the only memory that doesnt feel like a rebuke or a warning rn is the day i met you in person

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing? thats either the high waisted bell bottom jeans my aunt gave me a while back or the black and green striped top that ive worn holes into ive had it so long

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.  i literally dont have one, its a hideous + boring mishmash of four different aesthetics frankensteined together that doesnt make good art ever 

[rye-views]

Game of Thrones. 6.8/10

Seasons 1-2

Some people need to stop being so privileged and arrogant. esp. most of the kids.

There should definitely be trigger warnings for the slashings. Wild how people fought with swords at one point. I would not be able to live in that kind of life.

Crazy how the creators just created this entire world. It has its own attire, customs, and etc. etc.

Some people confuse me on whether I even like them or not. Like, what is Daenerys’s objective in life? Arya, though. Love that girl. Where are they filming all of this? Things are kicking to see such grand places.

This world is even worse than our world, because they put such a hierarchy on people. They will always carry this belief that someone is better than someone else based on birth or realm. Life here seems so cold and I fear for everyone’s faces. They need scarves. Some of these deaths are so brutal. People are so ruthless and wild. They also have no consideration for certain people’s lives.

That shadow birth was bizarre and happened so abruptly.

Kid actors impress me, because how can they act so well at such a young age?

Seasons 3-5

There are so many people casted for the army.

This whole show needs a trigger warning.

Daenerys is able to get so much power so quickly. She’s pretty badass and so fucking ruthless in getting what she wants. Arya is so cynical for a kid. That’s also badass. It’s amazing how you can break someone down through torture. It’s amazing how much trauma can do to you. Some people are so good at fighting. It’s amazing. Sam is like the Neville Longbottom + Hermione character. Bless him.

Sansa and Baelish bother me. I hate when they fucking hurt the horses.

Can I be more like Arya and Tyrion?

Seasons 6-7

Everyone’s lives have changed drastically since season 1. My opinion of almost everyone has altered to a degree.

I respect Jorah’s one sided love so hard. During the battle, the video edits were done very well to show someone getting trampled. When Sansa came in with reinforcements and they took down the line of defense, everything was so kickin. Loved that so much. There was one moment when Ramsay kinda appealed to me. I question how he can be so apathetic to others. What made him the way he is? Everyone is so strong even though their lives are trash. Respect. How can Daenerys look so flawless? Goals. Jaime Lannister is a handsome handsome man. The sets/places, the outfits/weaponry, acting, and ideologies are all so magnificent. The killings are what make the show though. Lyanna Mormont is the wisest child ruler yet.

Everything Bran is learning is pretty tragic. Esp. Hodor’s story. Bran is also a cutie. How did he end up as he is? But, also fuck yeahh bran’s power. Arya may think too highly of herself, but she still is so badass. Think about it, she’s a kid. I have no words, but poor Tommen. Poor dragon, but also omg at the dragon.

Omg. Ed Sheeran.

Am I just not paying hard enough attention or do I have to google a lot of info to understand this show better?

Season 8

Some scenes are so dark. I cannot fucking see.

Riding a dragon seems relatable to a rollercoaster. Fun. Arya fucking baller. This bitch just cannot die. Everyone’s moral compass is so interesting. It makes me wonder how moral compasses work within me and others. Everyone is so strong and good (in some way). This ended well imo.

The end of Missandei reminds me the end of Glenn Rhee. Bloodiness in this season is much better than blood in Walking Dead tho. (although it is walker blood)

Memorable Quotes: “Everywhere in the world, they hurt little girls.” “Nothing is better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing.” “A lot can happen between now and never.” “Nothing’s more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.” “When you’re with trouble when fighting happens, more trouble for you.” “I have met many women. None that are immune to flattery." “There’s so much good in all of us. The best we can do is to help each other bring it out.” “So what are you fighting for? “Life. Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last.”  “But we all die.”  “The enemy always wins and we still need to fight him. That’s all I know. You and I won’t find much joy while we’re here, but we can keep others alive. We can defend those who can’t defend themselves.” “Sometimes, nothing is the hardest thing to do.” “I’m a slow learner. It’s true, but I learn.” “I am the imp and I demand to know.”