#it all kind of feels the same to me — tho to be fair i haven’t read it in a while!

[relaxxattack]

question for hs2 readers who said the writing on this new update felt noticeably different— what about it felt different? would you be able to elaborate on that with specific details besides vibes?

[buttered-milky]

How maglor gets treated in fandom is so interesting to me because like? I feel like it just…it exactly what the canon narrative wants from you? This is not articulated well let me try to do that better—

Maglor generally gets treated as the softest of the sons, and I don’t blame people for this. We see comparatively little of his Atrocities tm than we do of some others, and we also see comparatively More of his personality than some of the others. Like. Caranthir and Amburussar have maybe the same level of atrocity description in my mind, but also. Let’s be so real. They do very fucking little besides kinslay and get killed—which is something we already know about all the others. They aren’t given much extra spice to their personality. (I’m talking about in the published Silm here bc tho I know many of us have read other extra shit also a lot of us haven’t!)

We get a lot of time with Maglor and we actually get to see him be remorseful towards the end. He tries to save Elrond and Elros, fucked up as that situation is, and he tries to convince Maedhros to just surrender.

Also, he doesn’t die nearly as violently as the others.

Maglor is in this odd space of still being very much A Fëanorian and also having some interesting sense of morals and (at risk of this sounding weird, but idk how else to put it) an artist’s soul. What do see of him feels markedly less dangerous that what we see of the rest of his family.

And that’s interesting! The narrative has painted Maglor as a little less dangerous and a little more sensitive than the rest of his family, and it has painted him nicely, and we know from having read the fucking book that that is probably not fair. He has killed so many people.

He has killed so many, but he has good PR. I actually kind of love that the fandom is not immune to the PR because shit like this happens in real life. I love when we can all learn a little lesson from a fictional guy. People in real life have great PR and commit great atrocities all the time. Also people in real life make wonderful art and then are terrible people in the rest of life.

Sometimes I see people say we should treat Maglor different and maybe not as soft but I disagree. Getting this take on him is on purpose I think. The text is trying for that. Because this is a real thing—crafting yourself an image which is better than you actually are is a real thing.

Whatever if he’s some weird sensitive goth. Do you know how many weird sensitive goths turn out to be horrible fucking people? Maglor I love you just as much as the next guy but if I saw you in the goth scene irl we would be fighting. This is the guy people are talking about when they say “keep your scene clean.”

Maglor should probably be treated as harshly as his siblings but also I’m okay that he isn’t. I actually prefer it this way because it can be a good lesson in the difference between someone’s image and who they are.

Tldr; it’s actually a little funny that the fandom treats maglor the way they do and i hope it never stops. Play into his pr it’s fun. And a good life lesson

[celestie0]

Girl I was balls deep in my attempt to make fanart for u a couple months ago

Like I had the reference pictures collated and I sat my ass down and picked up an pencil with the intention of actually drawing something after ages

cause basically I became a lil sad cause I felt like I forgot to draw bc last year in school I took an external art subject and it didn’t occur to me that doing a hands on subject through distance study wasn’t the brightest idea

anyway that fucked me over and led to me dropping and taking up fucking legal studies 😭

Even though I’m a bit more STEM based I can still fw the wordy subjects but not this someone pls save me why am I being assessed on the bi cameral structure of parliament

saur yh I’m super lazy as is with anything so that situation just put me off drawing and art completely

congrats to me setting every world record for yip yapping and going off track

ummm yh for context it was like my 10th read through of the kickoff chapter 6 scene that compelled me to collate a bunch of reference pics that ranged from twitter smut comics to bathroom sinks and eventually I gave up because anatomy is a bitch

I changed into a dress with the same type of neckline I think reader was wearing bc of the way it tucks under her boobies and I was this close to just shamelessly positioning myself in front of the mirror to make my own references

then ofc I got distracted by a half baked portrait of Rose from titanic that I drew when I was like 15 and ended up drawing a two hour long remake of the same picture

only for my friend to tell me it looks like Mary Shelly’s ghost

Should I know who that is

To be fair it looked nothing like her but I mean it was an improvement from thinking all my ability just went poof and I drew better when I was 15

never the less I was somewhat disappointed with the product and I haven’t drawn since

wait I wanna show u actually lemme try

https://share.icloud.com/photos/0edTRG9Tb54pRh9Qe5unszRrg

the Mary Shelly in question

do these links work I’m scared I’m gonna accidentally leak personal details or my whole camera roll lol

also IM NOT AN ARTIST don’t judge me peeps I’m just a girl idek how to drive yet

I feel bad every time I send an ask I feel like I’m force feeding u Ellie babes u have the patience and commitment of a saint

also OMG IF YOU MADE ART FOR ANY OF MY FICS I’D SOB!!!!

I want to 😞🫶 but alas prospect of fanart from me will most likely never see the light of day

that crack scene in ihm was tempting tho everything u write is just so visual

♥️ mwah my gorgeous gorgeous writer wifey

hellooo my dear PLS the ramble of this ask is legendary and i found it very entertaining xD

ouuu the dress that reader wears in ch6 of kickoff is actually based on a dress that i own, here's some pictures of it!! i'm curious if the dress you have is similar!! but yea this is the official outfit reference hahah

looking at it now it's kind of a mild sweetheart neckline lol n yea def tucks under the boobs very nicely xd i was actually gonna sell it on depop a couple months ago when i did a closet cleanout but i was like nahhh i gotta keep it bc it inspired that scene

taking your OWN reference pictures sounds so badass. and its ok babe it's the thought that counts haha <3 i feel u about the losing passion/talent in art thooo aaa i used to draw too but ehh hobbies fizzle

ahh i can't see the cloud photos :(( but anywho thanks for the yap my dear!! i ate it up. also side note but i'm so glad my writing comes off visual to you!! i always worry there's not enough description in my scenes so that's reassuring to hear. much love!

[illyrian-dreamer]

Ok I didn’t think I’d be here voicing opinions but Our girl got me so incredibly heated… I was absolutely enraged at the way they took her choice away. It almost felt as tho because she had strived for it for so long and made it such an integral part of her ambition, they took away part of her. They know they’ve fucked up — granted Rhys gave the order but they went along with it. They should’ve found some better way of going about it. You’re telling me that the ONLY way of stopping him from spilling Night Court secrets was to kill him then and there? Now Y/N will never have that sense of closure or be able to fully let go of her sister. My heart absolutely ACHES for her.

As for the future, I’m really quite torn. I love a happy ending, but this one feels so harsh for Y/N idk if that would be fair. I feel like the general agreement is that the bat boys need to Grovel (and I mean that with a capital G). But rn they still don’t seem to fully get it. I think dragging her back and forcing her to stay will only lead to further damage. Like I can totally picture the boys trying all kinds of things to earn her forgiveness but because the wound is so fresh, seeing them only makes it that much worse. She needs time and space to heal and a way to find that closure.

Because THEN, if she does end up leaving, we get more angsty scenes with the boys of them begging her to stay but ultimately realizing they played a part in this and need to let her go for HER SAKE (doesn’t make it easy tho). Plus, then there’s time for reader to understand her powers on her own. Ultimately I think the main point here is the groveling. They need to understand how badly they hurt and betrayed her (even if it was with good intentions). I think they all deserve a happy ending, but it takes time to forgive and move on. Imo they can re-evaluate what values their relationship is built off and fix communication to make it stronger. But at the same ik if I was in Y/N’s positions I don’t think I could forgive them (but perhaps she’s more gracious than I am…)

I’m so sorry I went on such a long tangent I have so many thoughts. I haven’t been invested in a story like this for so long!!! I love your writing. I’ve been reading for what feels like forever lol! ❤️

Never be sorry I love a good tangent!!!

Love that you speak about the reader finding out more about her powers too. Especially since they were used as a clutch to stop her from going on the mission. Definitely something I’m keen to explore.

The more feedback I get from you guys the longer this series is looking (and it was originally meant to be a one shot) 😅😅😅

Thank you for writing to me honey bun 🐰💕

[atopvisenyashill]

sidebar- listening to a podcast about this season of survivor w two former players (it was rob cesternino and cassidy clarke, if u watch survivor) and there’s a player on this season, venus, who’s been the outcast for a while, but last few weeks all her opps have walked out one by one and rob goes “i think she’s got kind of an arya stark arc going on” and before he could finish cassidy whispers into her mic “she’s no one” it was hilarious aksjd (he meant as in venus is going through her kill list and might get to the end alive) ANYWAYS-

some changes i’ve noticed

i feel like part of why the series stumbles is bc it doesn’t discuss lyanna as much as it should. having that added “we’ll talk about your mother when i return” scene right before robert & ned’s talk about jon snow’s mother And the targaryens was really good tho, narratively linking the two concepts.

HOWEVER i think like rhaegar & robert, d&d saw lyanna more as a puzzle than a person, but the whole point of lyanna is that she was a living breathing girl to ned and her death completely wrecks him in an irreparable way. so when they cut out his entire milk of the poppy dream sequence later on, it cuts out that she wasn’t just the answer to a riddle of “who was jon snow’s mother” but instead an integral part of the narrative whose absence defines the people ned and jon become. but i’m getting ahead of myself bc they haven’t actually changed anything here yet and the scene where ned and robert stop to talk is really good and more or less what happens in the book aksjdj.

i don't understand why they don't have catelyn thank summer for saving her and bran from the assassin. just another mind boggling decision and weird, unnecessary departure from cat's character

another unnecessary change is taking away ned’s fashionista tendencies smFh they don’t get nedcat at all

the way jaime is like oh ned is gonna be my bestie we’re gonna trade war stories we’re gonna flirt i’ll tell him about his brother’s gruesome death and he’ll be so grateful he’ll become MY best friend instead of robert’s and meanwhile ned is like, openly snarling the whole speech. the way ned’s mouth drops open at the GALL of jaime to say killing aerys felt like justice and jaime looks DEVASTATED and PERPLEXED that this man hates him so much when they’ve talked twice aksjdjd

okay first of all I DO IN FACT GET THE CHANGE of having bran say he had to have fallen whole robb insists he never falls, and we all know this scene lives forever in my mind but i also think it’s a) another weird departure from bran’s canon, very stubborn character and b) a PALE imitation of the talk in the dark between robb & bran where they say they’ll go on an adventure

that said, there’s something that Really fucks me up about the North having this culture wherein the sick and disabled are sent out in the winter to fight and die because they’re not like, worth feeding, but at the same time As A Disabled Person i guess finding it almost enticing to be given to the chance to like Die For A Reason ya know. you always have that out. And then here’s poor sweet Bran who it just never occurred to him that he would have to take that out and now it’s all he wants. anyways i’m crying ig

it’s the stubborn streak in him. he doesn’t want platitudes, he doesn’t want to be strong. his whole life has changed for the worse and he just needs to sit in it. it’s not fair and it all sucks and he’s just a kid!!!

the robert and barristan scene is another good one and it’s bc it plays into robert’s character, really elevates the elephant in the room of rhaenys & aegon, and the way barristan is just. disgusted. standing there consumed with loathing for everything he’s become, refusing to engage with being a driving force for why everything is this way. dragging jaime in to humiliate him in front of barristan, to humiliate barristan in front of jaime. the way barristan almost reaches out to jaime emotionally in a way he refuses to reach out to robert, but robert only gets angry and picks at them more.

“he said the same thing he’d been saying for hours. ‘burn them all.’” OH NOW ITS NOT SO FUN ANYMORE IS IT WISE GUY

gonna be honest i think the weapon talk between jorah and rakharo is one of the sexiest scenes in the show, listening to two dudes who are hit in REALLY different ways talk about their favorite ways of murdering people is really fun and hot to me also elyes gabel and amrita acharia were wasted on this show, they would have killed in later seasons smh

i don’t understand why they made the drogo storyline like a REAL TYPICAL sort of rape romance story. what was the point if they were just gonna be ~in love~ at the end anyway. such a weird choice.

do i love the change from “fear cuts deeper than swords” to “what do we say to the god of death”? like it’s fine. they should have kept both if they liked that line so much. the actor who plays syrio is so good tho he’s got such great chemistry with maisie, you really understand why syrio impacts her so much

that ending close up on ned’s trauma face is so good it’s such a shame they CUT THE DREAM SEQUENCE WHERE WE FINALLY UNDERSTAND WHY NED IS LOSING IT WATXGING ARYA GET FAKE STABBED IN THE GUT. ITS FINE. IM FINE.

general thoughts

“it’ll get easier” jorah is a useless binch just like aemon the dragonknight. what’s the point of your sword if you don’t kill your girl’s evil husband. go fall on it shithead.

i do love that jorah is like “ned is a little bitch for trying to behead me for slavery even tho it’s been illegal in westeros for like hundreds of years. but also maybe having a king that allows behavior like that is kinda crazy actually bc viserys is not right in the head. i’m not gonna reflect on that at all tho” iain glenn the actor that you are.

love the lannister breakfast scene. the way tyrion clearly knows but is pointedly talking around it. jaime thinks tyrion is the height of comedy and wants them to have a nice breakfast but cersei leaves haughtily halfway through even tho tommen & myrcella are having a good time. the Loaded Look jaime gives tyrion during the “life is full of possibilities” line, where he like,,,, Almost realizes Tyrion is saying something to him here emotionally about being disabled before he puts it aside to be self involved about the incest.

kit’s acting is always several degrees of magnitude better when he’s with other starklings. idk if he’s trying harder or if maisie sophie and isaac are so good they infect him with acting abilities.

there’s something fun about the cycles continuing bc joffrey gets drunk & belligerent like his father has a thousand times, but he doesn’t have half the skill or charm as his father and just gets his ass completely handed to him by a practical toddler with zero training. and he’s so embarrassed it helps snowball this situation into a war.

the kid who plays micah is real awkward. i'm not bullying i'm just saying.

“we all pray for prince joffrey’s full recovery” “pity you didn’t spare a prayer for the butcher’s boy” GET HIS ASS

have i mentioned how much i hate aiden’s acting. oh my god i’m not gonna get through this rewatch aksjsj

“war was easier than daughters” ned every emotion you’ve ever felt is harder to deal with than the war that’s why you’re so fucked in the head be so fucking fr with me rn lmao

septa mordane is a terrible guardian i think this can’t be understated

“she must take his side even when he is wrong” “but how could you let her marry someone like that?” GET HIS ASS

bran literally shivering with fear as nan talks my baby!!!!!!!!

“ah the starks. quick tempers. slow minds.” CAN WE SKIP THE EVIL VILLAIN MONOLOGUES TO THE CAMERA PLEASE

“i think we can outfox a ten year old” jaime you couldn’t even kill that ten year old correctly let’s walk before we run

nedcat giggling over ned throttling petyr and then making out in front of petyr’s establishment is amazing i’m literally so depressed right now i hope petyr cried into his pillow that night

the way both ned AND benjen just give the most ass goodbyes to jon for no good reason. are they TRYING to give him a complex oh my god

i think i’m on episode 4. once i get past season one i think it’ll be easier when the writing gets worse actually.

[chuluoyi]

noooo 😭😭 who you gonna use the s-chips on then 😭

UNHOLY BLOOD!!! It's my 1st Vampire-related manhwa and it's so good!!! Hayan is such a GIRLBOSS! I LOVE THE MAGICIAN DUDE AND HIS LION 🥹🥹🥹 But yes Euntae and Hayan's relationship was too slow I couldn't take it... But at least they had such a cute relationship at the end 🫶🏻

do you know the manga artist has a new webtoon? I'm not sure what it's called but I heard it's good! I've yet to read it myself... On another note, I love the art so much it's so unique and different from other manhwas!

And hmm few of my faves are "Death is the only end for the villainess", "No longer a heroine!", and "The Couple breaker". The last 2 are by the same artist! The 1st is a regular "I died and was reincarnated as a villainess" kind of story, BUT It has a twist! It's in an otome game instead of a storybook! Quite interesting... The 2nd is based on the life of an actress. It's pretty realistic and is a little dark... Not much romance tho...The last is really drama HAHAH It's crazy like the name says it all. As for childhood friends to lovers, I recommend "The Secret Bedroom of a Dejected Royal Daughter". It's a little bit enemies to lovers too. And it has 18+ Scenes 😁🤭 That's a bonus.

For status?! Honestly I don't get how that works LIKE you don't feel anything for him? And yeah! I agree that we definitely want the real thing. Woahh but 23 isn't that bad! Exactly I don't wanr boys I want men.

And HAHAHA don't worry bae you're not lecturing at all! I kinda like it when people give me advice.

It's not hot but it's too rainy 😭 I love the rain but I'm on school break now and I wanna go out with my friends 🫠

HAHAHAH I FEEL YOU OMG! Like its so gut-wretching and painful but IT FEELS SO GOOD TO READ!

Impulse buying HAHAH Makeup ain't Impulse buying it's a necessity 🫶🏻 WOAH 10 EPS IS A LOT- My best was like 4 eps maybe HAHAHHA

Omg You're so right my Twitter was always untouched until I started receiving notifs of Gojo being alive theories... And Gege continues toying with us till the very end...

AHHAHA To be fair I started Aot cause of Levi like PLS HE'S SO HOT idc if he's like 8cm shorter than me- But it's really ... complicated.... Too complicated for my liking...I understand where your girl friends are coming from ...

HAHAHAHA Karma hitting him hardddd

Also Karma is the guy on the screen (Gojo) coming straight home to youuuuu [If you listen to Taylor Swift you'll understand haha]

Also I flunked my excel exam... Idk why I have this module it sucks cause I'm not tech savvy... I think I aced my accounting test tho so that's good! Thanks for believing in me tho 😭😭😭 so touched rn..

We'd PAY to be Suguru's monkeys 🐒 🙈

Lmk once you read it omg I wanna know what happens I LOVE this AU it's so cute!

And hang in there, Chu!!!! You can do it!! Ik its already Saturday but still!!! Atb for next week babe!!

p.s. so sorry I took so long to reply, I'm overseas now...

-🪩

hii disco anon!! sorry for the late reply too i was just back from my weekend break!🥹

for christmas event?🥹 there must be a christmas event… right? i haven’t checked the chinese server yet but there must be! (#trust💁🏻‍♀️)

RIGHT it was so good and i’m glad i found people who also like them bcs my friends don’t seem to be interested😭 i know it’s so slowburn but the story is so great too. I KNOW I LOVE HIM TOO but wait i also forgot his name😭 but euntae is so hot i can’t—

really?! i’m looking into it now!! i really love her story and art so it must be good🤭

oooh i never have much affinity for isekai manga but now that you said it’s good then i’ll def check it out!!👀 i read no longer heroine too!! aaah that was so good i was on the edge of my seat every chapter🤧 and hey couple breaker seems interesting?? i’ll eat that up this weekend and oooh what’s that in the end👀👀 okay thank you sm for the recs!!🫶🏻

i have a rec too!! must be a happy ending! have you read it? the art is soooo majestic and the plot got me like 😩🥲🫣🤭 many times i love it so much from the start to the end!!

honestly i don’t really understand to till this day actually, but yeah she didn’t seem to like him that much because as she said it herself it was all out of “curiosity” which is a big red flag in and of itself💀 mind you not even a year later they broke up 🙄

(aww i’m glad you feel that way <3 when we’re close i tend to run off my mouth so…)

ahh school break!! i used to sleep in most of the time🤭🤭

it’s necessity for us but some boys are just too nosy *sigh* they be like “i love natural look!” and then be 🙃 when they see our bare face 😩 HAHAH yeah back when i had so much free time i spent it all on binge-watching🥲 do you have any show recs?? can be anything, even anime too!!

HAHAHHAA omg there’s this one twt account that always makes points about how gojo will live until this day 😭😭 i have accepted it by this point but evidently twitter nation is still going strong🥹

OMG SAME like i know levi but i didn’t know eren at firstt🤧🤧 he seems so cool and so fine (my bf 🙄 again at me when i mentioned that) even with one eye missing in the recent last part of aot too!!

OH YEAH I LISTEN TO HER THESE DAAAYS omg i must make a confession; her songs are the inspiration for my fics these days🥹🥹 like everything is so relatable and the tune are so easy to remember i love her songs 🫶🏻

ohmy i’m sorry🥺 i used to be sooo bad at excel (esp macros) too but ever since i’m following some yt tutorials i started getting better! and let me give you some shortcuts too:

chat gpt. believe it or not it works on codes! my friend who is a programmer cheats from chat gpt sometimes🥲 not totally recommended but it can be your last resort

excel forum. whenever i get confused regarding codes or formulas, i drop by the forum to ask. there are many kind people there! and most of their codes and formulas work too

whaa accounting!! i used to be so bad at it like i would tear my hair out to find “why are they not balanced?!” 😭😭 i love science subjects better🥹 and aw you’re welcome!!

i haven’t read the bakerlon card yet but i will tonight!! will update you once i do!!🥹

awww thank youuu disco anon!!😭🫶🏻 you’re so sweet thank you for interacting with me!!! and it’s totally okay! waaa i hope you enjoy your vacation!!✨

[acircusfullofdemons]

PARAMAY DAY 13 (CREATION)

*inhales* oh boy, here we go…

Claypso was created on January 12, 2018, the day/day after I had seen the movie “The Greatest Showman”. It Unlocked something in my brain because the MOMENT I got home I pulled up Pinterest & started looking for inspo to make a Cool New ~*Self Insert OC*~. I can't really remember my exact thought process (who knows wtf 14yo Luka was on) BUT I do know I specifically made Calypso to represent "me". I would then joke for the next 2ish years on how, despite this, I made Calypso a boy when I identified as a Cis Girl. Idk I just find that fact so funny now that I’m nonbinary. (In the same vein, I also made him confident/proud of his bisexuality when I still had no clue if I was bi or not. We love projecting onto our own ocs/paras <3).

Calypso is the parame I remember actively making, thinking, "this Character is me but runs a circus" (I had just seen The Greatest Showman so inspo was strong there lol). Which is funny, because if you look at Cali, then look at me, I don't think you'd think/realize that?? His personality is very much…the opposite of mine lol. I am not a super cool extrovert that has multiple friend groups and goes on odd adventures. I’m on tumblr participating in a month-long oc challenge. Clearly something went wrong /j.

Uh. I made him at a time when I was questioning if I was Bi or not (I mean i was a freshman/starting highschool. Do any of us know who we truly are then?) so I kinda projected that into him??? In all honesty I feel like he should fall somewhere on the aro spectrum as well, since I'm aro & that's important to me, but I want it to evolve naturally if it at all happens so I won't entertain the idea just yet.

Funny enough, homeboy has always been a homeboy. Er, what I mean by that is, even tho I made him based off of me/representing me, having him be a (cis) male was one of my first decisions for him. At the time I wasn't 100% sure why, maybe I was influenced by the movie, which had Hugh Jackman star/play as PT Barnum, both males. But uh *looks @ nonbinary flag* I think there's a reason why now. Also part of the reason he's so feminine / """girly""" I guess. Tbh I probably projected into him a lot more than I realize (coughdaddyissuescough) but he is my parame & started out as a paraself, so it's fair.

Oh wow I haven’t even gotten into the original version of his story yet. It’s honestly not that different from how it is now, with a few minor differences. Originally, he was just the circus’ ringleader and died trying to save Clairette from a lion attack. The time loop was because he was the son of Persephone and Morpheus (yes..the greek gods…they were a thing in this once) so I think Persephone allowed him to be a Poltergeist?? OH and Macbeth was his half brother which made their relationship kind of sad because Cali genuinely wanted a sibling relationship but Macbeth just wanted him dead (Macbeth is a Reaper and his job is to collect Souls Cali is literally a lost soul do u see the problem here).

The VR stuff was always canon (except for that brief period of time where I got insecure and it wasn’t and everything was just their normal life which made things less confusing but also there was literally no plot lmao). Idk what else to say uhm fun facts: 

His default playlist is a little over 8hrs long and is currently the longest playlist I have on Spotify (that I listen to. My instrumental playlist is a little longer but tbh I rarely touch it).

He used to have gold eyes. They were quickly changed to blue and got shifted into the turquoise they are now! In addition to that, his first design used to have him wearing an actual ringleader outfit. He also used to have black hair, then light purple, and finally the dark purple it is now. In total he’s been through roughly 7-8 redesigns.

Cali is combined with a previous character, Anthony Morningstar. Anthony was inspired by Pride!Roman (an AU of Roman Sanders from the webseries “Sanders Sides”) and is the reason Calypso is now a prince! I scrapped Anthony because I had no idea what to do with his character and felt like him & Cali were too similar to really justify them being different people.

The tarot cards that represent him are “The Magician” and “Page of Wands”.

“A Million Dreams” from The Greatest Showman is his theme song.

....this is all probably Too Much. hm. have the first drawing of Cali I ever did (it is from 2018 😞)

[doingproblematicmedia]

Velma Last Eps

Got my emotional support snacks:

I gotta hand it to the writers, they did this mystery better than BBC Sherlock.

That might be a low bar, but they did clear it.

Most of the background info needed for the mystery had been set up in previous episodes, and there were only a few more elements introduced to solve things. These last two eps were not boring, there were a fair few twists that work for keeping viewers on their toes, and it was wrapped up pretty well, while leaving plenty for a second season (oh G-d help) to explore.

Some character development did happen in the end, even if it was in an extremely messy and sudden way. You could understand how the characters got to their current points. It was - sudden. The characters were almost exactly the same way as they were halfway thru the series - then all of a sudden, hey! Look! Development! They haven’t turned into good people, or even people resembling their classic counterparts, but they did change, and character conflicts were set up for the second season.

One thing that didn’t change at all in these last eps? The writers doing really ham-fisted social commentary in character monologues. The ‘rich white man privilege’ actually did have a bit of plot relevance in the end, but it was still about as subtle as getting slapped in the face with a disembodied brain. 

I want to take ‘snide quip about social issues’ out of these writers’ toolbox. It would make a better show for it. These things bog down the pace, they make the audience cringe, and they land so poorly. Like, yeah, Charlie Grandy, we get it, you’re a self-aware white guy.

One thing I am glad about tho: Velma has treated her friends like shit this entire show. And she does wind up suffering consequences for it! Norville leaves her, and we get the feeling Daphne’s reached a breaking point. It woulda been cool for these consequences to have come sooner. These characters are fucking martyrs for putting up with Velma. If consequences had come for her earlier in the show, we might’ve had more time for character growth earlier on. One of the biggest problem that reviewers have had is that Velma honestly sucks to spend time with. It might’ve helped a lot if this had been acknowledged more and she had been given more moments that hint to future growth. 

Honestly Velma does make me sad. I could see myself enjoying this series a lot. There’s a ton of potential, and it’s been wasted. The problems are all in the writing room. And I don’t know if the reviews from this season will inspire them to make change, but it would be incredible if that happened.

Not holding my breath though. Because the problems we see with this show are problems of extreme arrogance. Which, as ironically demonstrated through the show’s villains, is not the kind of thing that changes when confronted with its own folly.

[timeaussnape]

Hii, I saw your post asking for Severitus recs and I have quite a few!

- O Mine Enemy by Kirby Lane

This one is my absolute favorite, and I never miss an opportunity to sing its praises. The characterization is one of the most canon compliant and on point I’ve ever seen in the fandom; the author has a way of working WITH the characters’ canon versions instead of going against them or finding ways around them, so the whole thing reads like a natural progression of where they stand in the source material. And it’s not just Snape and Harry, either. Kirby’s Dumbledore is the most believable I’ve ever seen in any Severitus work. And the development of their relationship is SO satisfying (it’s one of those slow burn stories that make you feel like you fought tooth and nail for and earned every tender moment and every step forward, but it also doesn’t feel dragged out), and the plot is GREAT as well. Everything feels so high-stakes and so intimate at the same time. It’s got everything: Seer!Harry, alternative Horcrux lore, Dursley family bashing, kidnapping and rescue missions, arcs that progress beautifully and come full circle in more ways than one, and of course the parental/protective Snape of our dreams. The first few chapters are good but won’t blow your mind at first or anything, but the story finds its footing pretty quickly and then you won’t be able to put it down. I swear.

- The Chivalry series (The Guiltless and The Poor of God) by branwyn

I haven’t seen this one mentioned in rec lists nearly enough. The Guiltless is mostly setup, as it is all about Snape’s initial discovery of Harry’s home life. The second installment is where the story really begins to shine for me. The writing is almost lyrical at times and the plot is pretty original, as far as Severitus works go; Harry and Sev establish a tentative (and adorable) correspondence until a Potions mishap offers the most glorious excuse for angst and hurt/comfort I’ve ever seen (to give you an idea, iirc the exploding potion in question was named the draught of waking nightmares). The story also focuses quite a lot on Harry’s recovery from the Dursleys’ abuse, and Luna features prominently as well. Fair warning tho, the epilogue is a tearjerker (the happy kind of tearjerker, I promise).

- Time Left Today by gzdacz

Road trip AU (does being on the run from the cops count as a road trip?) , set immediately after Year One, in which Harry and Snape have to go on the run from the Ministry after Quirrell’s death (a journey which takes them all across Europe, and the author builds each setting beautifully). Snape’s POV here would probably be considered a bit OOC by most of the fandom, but his outer persona and dialogue was sufficiently Snape-ish to make the story feel like an organic continuation of the first book (and his inner life is constructed so well and so subtly that for once I found myself not minding the deviation from his canon harshness). Also, this little Harry is absolutely adorable and one of the most believable portrayals of a child I’ve seen in fanfic. The Lily/Sev flashbacks are yet another highlight; gzdacz’s Lily is my favorite EVER, and I desperately DESPERATELY wish there was even one Snily/Lily-centric story out there that portrayed this version of the character.

- Crime and Punishment by melolcatsi

You’ve probably already read this one since it’s a Severitus classic, but it’s a classic for a reason and I can’t make a rec list without including it.

- I Know Not, and I Cannot Know; Yet I Live and I Love by billowsandsmoke

Ok so this one isn’t really Severitus, but it scratches the same itch and it COMPLETELY blew me away. Plus, it’s only 32k words. It’s a canon compliant look at Snape mentoring Luna through the years. That’s it. I won’t say anything else because I could not begin to do it justice.

And here are a few others that, although they didn’t stand out to me like the previous ones, I really enjoyed:

- A Thousand Words by Ailee17

- It's Delicate (isn't it?) by MellarkandArt (this is only my fav part of a longer series, which I also recommend in its entirety, but I suppose it could be read as a standalone)

- I, Your Glass by koppelkat

- Under Your Skin by waitingondaisies (considerably shorter than most fics I’ve listed; Snape discovers Umbridge’s detention practices)

- Digging for the Bones by Paganaidd

- Life as Dictated by a Talking Hat by RhiannanT

- The One I Run To by Sa-kun

You might want to check for content warnings and completion status on a few of these. All the best!

I 1000% meant to answer this as soon as I got it, but I've been looking for O Mine Enemy for months. I read roughly half of it while delirious with the flu a while ago and could not, for the life of me, remember what on earth it was. Tysm!

I will definitely be checking all of these out. Your explanations made me want to read all of them! Especially the Chivalry series - I'm such a sucker for tearjerkers.

Gosh, and thank you for reminding me of Crime and Punishment. Patiently waiting for the next chapter is so hard!

Thank you again for all of these recs, all the best!

[thewhovianknows]

Ok I just finished the wilds season 2

Obviously some spoilers ahead

I liked it. I did. But it wasn’t as well done as the first season. It didn’t feel as smart as the first season did. And I think a lot of that falls to the boys and the splitting of time. In the first season, we spent every minute with the girls. Every character, even the ones who already knew each other, got a detailed and specific background that we saw. As such, we came to know and understand them incredibly well. We KNOW the girls. We get them. We understand their nuances. And that’s something we just don’t get with the boys. The flashback episodes have multiple people’s stories combined, so we never learn even close to as much as we did about the girls, if anything. We know next to nothing about Kieran, or Seth’s step brother, whose name I can’t remember, which was also an issue. It took ages for me to remember the boys’ names, with the exception of Raf, because we barely spent enough time with them to know them. Like Leah in season one, he was our eyes in, but unlike Leah, he wasn’t solving the mystery that we the viewers wanted the answer to.

Which leads me to the ACTUAL biggest problem with season 2, and with the boys in general: they don’t motivate the greater overarching plot forward. In all of season 1, and season 2, the girls are actively getting closer to figuring out what’s going on. Even when this is surrounded by other activities and crisees, there is a driving force behind their actions and their time on screen. The boys are not doing that. They are not solving the mystery, and we, the audience, already know they impoded, if not exactly why. And so as the episodes move forward through season 2, every second spent with the girls feels vitally important, both because they’re characters we know and love AND because the plot is actually moving. Which is why (as many other people have also said), every minute with the boys feels like time wasted. Time we could be using to be figuring out what is actually going on, time that could be spent furthering the season one plot, which is only ever moving forward when we’re with the girls. In all honesty, we could’ve learned about the boys’ story and what happened on their island in 2 sentences of expository dialogue and the plot would remain exactly as is in the season 2 finale. And that’s how you know they weren’t used effectively. In every episode, I found myself just desperately waiting for the girls to come back so we could actually get going. The boys story just….wasn’t important, and you could feel it. It dragged. It was extraneous. They needed to either be given the same care and attention as the girls, and actively be working towards something that drove the plot forward, or they needed to have just been on screen way less, and made space for the actual plot and the girls. We also spent little to no time with the scientists or behind the scenes in this season at the cost of more time on the beach with the boys. And all of that combined is where I think the general resentment of the boys is coming from. And I don’t think it’s necessarily unwarranted given the way the season was written.

The girls were still great, and felt true to their season 1 characters, though to be fair I haven’t seen season 1 in a while. But really, every time we saw them, it felt a little like they were making cameos. They weren’t on screen long enough for me to determine if they’d developed much from when we last saw them. Even so, they were still more nuanced than the boys. We spent so much time with the boys and somehow still didn’t ever really know them at all. Or at least not even close to as well as we know the girls. I don’t know how they’ll handle them mixed up together in season 3 (assuming it happens). I don’t think anyone will be super thrilled with the inevitable unbalancing that it could create. I guess we’ll see.

Go Leah and Fatin tho, they fricking KILLED it this season, heck yea. All the girls seriously DELIVORED. (The boys kind of felt like they were reciting play monologues all the time for some reason. Anyone else feel that?)

Despite all of this, I’m still invested in the actual story. So I’ll still be tuning in to season 3 in like a year or whenever if it happens. Ok rant over.

[laurelier]

Falling. Into a half-empty glass.

Or: I’m nothing but a bitch for falling that’s all I am. Part 1.

We’re all by this point aware of the fact that everybody’s favorite shiny-shirted chaos demon Harry Styles has been teasing us with a mini baby mashup of Two Ghosts and Falling on his rainbow-bunny-bedecked tour. Yes. We know this we have all lost our collective shit about it yes. Like god, it just sounds so pretty, here have a link to a video of him singing it yep no problem ur welcome don’t mention it GOD I would do so many dirty things for a studio recording of this.

(x, x, x)

I have written this long as all sweaty hell post today because listen ok I fucking LOVE that he fucking did this. That he’s connecting these two songs like he is. Because maybe he’s just doing it because it sounds nice, maybe he’s doing it because he’s Harry Styles and he can do what he well pleases thank u very much, maybe it’s because the two songs are about the same/a similar interpersonal conflict, maybe maybe sure any of that yeah—but I also think you can absolutely damn well read both of these songs as being about two sides of himself, rather than (or in addition to) the couples disagreement thing we generally see in them, and THAT makes this really exciting to me.

I’ve had this thought for a while now and always kind of felt like I was. Reaching a bit? So I just kind of. Kept it to myself and let myself feel my own little feely feelings about it. But then H decided to link these two songs on MAIN????? on TOUR?????? with a stunning a cappella angel harmony to boot (sott anyone. only angel anyonE) and—I lost it, I’m loooosssinnggggg it, I still feel like this is a reach tbh but I'm. Losing It. And really, to be fair, I think pretty much all of H’s songs are about approx one thousand different things at the same time, and that’s probably what I love most about them, but to me at least—I don’t know. Regardless of what Harry actually means in these two songs, Falling especially and also parts of TG feel so much to me like what it is to meet yourself, realize you’ve badly mistreated yourself, feel so sorry for that, not know how to fix it, not know if you like who you’re becoming or who you’ve been—I just. Feeeeeeeel all of that. So strongly here. And then he went and ACTUALLY CONNECTED them and I just. It's so much. It's so so so so. Much.

Under the cut if you wanna get real emo with me about the ghosts inside our heads and splash around in some rainbow rabbitholes. Sound weird? Good. Let’s get wet.

I try to talk a little about chords even tho I can’t read music

This wee inkling that Falling and Two Ghosts can be interpreted to be about internal exploration if you just commit to a little bit of brainpayne began with me noticing that Harry sings the whole entirety of Falling, with all its longing and all its regret and all its paaiaaaaaaiinnnn just belts that shit out and it breaks my heart, and then—he gives us a lovely three-note riff at the end that we haven’t heard at that tempo nor featured that clearly anywhere else in the song. It’s similar to what he does in SOTT and then repeats in Only Angel. All three riffs have different notes, but a similar rhythm—just mirrored, going up in Falling instead of down like in OA and SOTT, and the off-beat pauses are in kind of complementary places too, like. It’s long been my thought that in Falling he’s not only echoing but mirroring the deconstructed chord thing that he did in these other two cryptic if you squint you can see gender here and also life is really hard songs, and the whole recent Falling mashup thing clued me in to the fact that he kind of halfway does it in Two Ghosts too (just on guitar, like, the beginning **~badada*~? Even though it’s not an exact match bc there’s some variation in it after the fact, idk). It just. It kills me. It absolutely kills me. I get so excited about this that I don’t know if any of this is gonna make sense I’m just this I’m just

—but I'll try I’ll try I’ll do my lil pepe silvia best.

I’m not like. Functionally, I’m not very musically literate, but the notes of the riffs are:

Falling: G# F# E (down)

Only Angel/SOTT: A C D (up)

And for good measure even though I don’t think the whole riff thing is quite as yoda voice strong with this one Two Ghosts: F# Ab B (up)

Really though what I recommend is to listen to the beginning of Two Ghosts and then the end of Falling and then the beginning of Only Angel and then the end of SOTT in that order and just. Get back to me on that. Tell me these little deconstructed chords don’t sound like sisters to you.

I loooooooooOOOOOve the idea that H might use themes in the actual sound of his music thehillsaaarreeeaalliiiiiiveeeeee to hint at thematic parallels in his lyrics, and idk this might just be utter reach for the stars BS coming from somebody who has listened to both of these albums an alarming number of times, but. Either way, it gives me a starting point from which to think about possible connections between these songs, and doing that’s allowed me to explore a lot of what H’s work means to me. So: ba da daaaaaa let’s get into it.

Who tf is this man talking to anyway

Like I mentioned above, I like to listen to H’s love songs and try to see if there’s anything in them that lets me imagine they could be about internal life, different pieces of him—like, listen to him as if he’s singing to his own fragmented self, to a cast of different characters inside him—because I’ve found that so doing helps me reflect a lot of my own feelings about my own self into a place where I can see and feel them. Processing, etc. I find that doing this with Falling in particular is really really powerful (and sad be warned) so let’s take a look at the lyrics super close it'll be real quick promise just to like. Set the foundation.

For this to make any sense at all, imagine there’s two separate characters/Harrys in this song, one on the inside and one on the outside (two harrys two ghosts we see where I am going here yes showing my hand), which is a breeze if we’ve read @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk’s Only Angel and She analyses. Which is something we should all do. Right now if we have not. Yes go do that come back when you’re done.

TLDR: I’m reading Falling as being sung to us by the externally visible representation of the narrator of this song (from this point on, referred to as Harry) and directed towards the She who lives in daydreams with him (She), a queer self inside. Throughout the rest of this, I’m going to use phrases like “he’s saying” that assume some agency on Harry’s part, but keep in mind that I never ever mean to speak for Harry—especially when I’m talking about his sexuality or gender identity—like I said, this is just an exercise that I do that kind of. Helps me think about myself. And up to a certain point, in a certain way, technical rightness or wrongness of interpretation doesn’t entirely matter, right, as long as we remember that we’ll never be in H’s head—only our own—so with that in mind, here’s one way that I see Falling, a little peek into my own psyche all wrapped up in a reading of this beautiful beautiful beautiful song.

Lyric breakdown:

I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame But the drink in my wandering hands

Harry’s alone in his bed, drinking—big strong FTDT parallel with the loneliness and the drinking but we’re not doing that today—and there’s no She to be found at the moment. He’s frustrated, blaming the drink for She’s absence: either because of the drinking itself (has something about altering his mind’s state made her retreat? In most of his songs it seems like it’s the opposite, so that’s interesting, and suggests to me that there’s something different about the (supposed) interaction we see with She here than in other songs) or because of something his wandering hands (I love that phrasing so much, it’s so beautiful) have done, She—the queer side, the daydream occupier, a self he longs to express—isn’t with him now, she’s silent. He’s done something to betray her, push her away.

Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back I can't unpack the baggage you left

I’m hearing the narrator/Harry making an apology to She for saying hurtful things to her, to this fragile precious part of himself—and expressing desperate frustration—“I can’t take it back”—, implying a desire to return to a place where he feels connected with her. Trying to mend, in other words, the fact that he’s somehow shown her the cruelty we’ve all, I imagine, shown to ourselves at one time or another—and alluding to the heavy, heavy baggage we are left with by the most genuine, deepest, longest-denied pieces of ourselves when we are brutal and cold and cruel to them.

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

What’s so, so evocative for me here is—in these lyrics more than anything I just hear a person saying: “I’m afraid of who I’ll be when I become who I am.” What am I becoming? What am I now? And what if the person I am now, this person I’ve been all my life, isn’t someone that I’ll want to be at all in the future? What if, someday, I’m so ashamed of who I once was that I won’t want to acknowledge the life I've lived at all? What if I don't like who I am—either now or when I'm more of myself? What if what if what if I don’t ever even know who I am and now I’m falling, I’m falling, and I’m not just falling but I’m falling again, I’m always falling, this happens all the time, which way is up, the water’s all around me and I’m drowning.

This chorus, just. It's so full of this feeling of shame—it's so palpable in the way he sings, in the lyrics, everything. What if I’m awful, what if I can’t stand to be around myself? And maybe more than that, even, the chorus feels to me like self-alienation: like not recognizing yourself, like being entirely in the dark about who you are or who you’ll become tomorrow. The particular panic of looking at yourself and going oh my God, my God, what am I what am I what am I—beginning to suspect that maybe there’s nothing truly to you, because you’ve maybe unknowingly maybe not lied all your life to yourself and those who love you about who you are and—oh, my God, what am I, now? Now that all the lies are falling away—what is left of me?

And: the little change in the last chorus to What if you're someone I just want around? is just. It breaks me. It’s so plaintive, simple: all I hear is, I just want to be me. I just want her—all of me—around.

That, to me, is Harry not just asking for the space to be himself, but expressing that he just wants to be in his own presence. It’s such a defenseless, disarmed way of asking for authenticity, which is, in turn, such a human thing to want; it’s so childlike, almost, this way that I hear him asking to be around She, around himself, as if She’s a kind of caretaker, as if he’s so tired that he just wants to fall into his own arms and be protected, be accepted, because his own self is the person from whom he needs that care most, and from whom it’s hardest to earn it—and god, it hurts, because he spends so much of this song singing about this hard, unsparing distance that he feels between himself and She, and, just. Ohhhhhhhh I can’t I have to move on it's too much. Asking for your own forgiveness and love, trying to feel worthy of your own presence—how many things are more vulnerable and heartrending than that, I don’t know.

This ss is from that general part of the song, and I just. See him reaching. Reaching reaching reaching for himself, looking up toward himself, floating helplessly. And it just. Hurts. There's so much longing.

You said you care And you missed me too And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you And the coffee's out At the Beachwood Cafe And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

Here, I think what’s most important is Harry saying he writes too many songs about “you”, She. Like I said earlier, I like to think damn near all of his songs can be read like this: I often imagine (baselessly, again, I have no idea what's happening) that he’s at least partly writing about She, like, literally all the time, and this has given me such a useful incredible lift in thinking about myself, my own inner world and how it’s connected to literally every other part of my life, no matter how hard I’ve tried in the past to separate all of that from what I love. A model for how to talk to myself, almost.

Of note that She tells Harry that she cares about and misses him as well—all parts of him wanting him to be a whole self—and then Harry expresses frustration that there’s nothing left to say to She, and this just feels like desperation to me, that word again, desperate: the narrator's desperate reaching toward a part of himself that is so life-giving and also so, so hard to hold onto. We launch into the chorus again right after H sings about wishing he could communicate more clearly with himself; we’ve run out of things we can say, I’m not coming up with any more answers, it’s silent in my head and oh god I’m falling again, please, all I want is to know that who I am is someone I can stand being.

And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again

I hear the same shame-filled questions from earlier here—those that I, at least, have asked myself so many times as I've tried to face and know myself; I just. I hear how much looking honestly at yourself after years and years of denial and suppression hurts in his voice here, I hear him singing, what if the self I will become has no use at all for me now? For everything I am, everything I ever thought I was—what if it’s all nothing, what if I am nothing, what if I don't exist at all, what if I never did; what if, my entire life until this point, I've been nothing more than the violence it took to pretend I was not me?

I don't know. Obviously the answer is that we're all more than that, that no one is nothing, but these ugly questions do have a tendency to fly out onto the table during a personal crisis—or at least they did onto mine, when I first started to remember little ghosts in my own head that so badly needed soothing, that I had ignored and silenced for so many years.

It’s such a powerful song, and it genuinely means so, so, so much to me.

Two ghosts falling down a music video rabbithole

Returning to Love on Tour briefly, the line “We’re not who we used to be” in Two Ghosts is really the main thing pulling me toward the idea that there’s an underside to this song also that’s about, well, a self made of two ghosts, circling one another: H's, or the narrator's, current self a ghost because of all the performance it was built on, the inner self a ghost because it’s been hidden for so long. I won’t do a long lyric breakdown of Two Ghosts, because I’m less passionate about the idea of this song reflecting an inner experience of (queer) fragmentation than I am about that being the case for Falling, and also because—the only lines of TG he’s been singing in concert are: “We’re not who we used to be, we’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat”—which are the queerest lines anyway, to me. You’re standing in front of yourself, and both of you are ghosts; you’re looking at yourself looking back at you in this space between existence and artifice, all of you trying to remember or learn what it’s like to be a full human being. The self haunting the self; one self fading out, one self fading in.

Emotionally, right, I was doing okay with this until I rewatched the Falling music video in full and then. Then I was not ok anymore GOD it’s beautiful it’s just so MUCH it’s so much it’s so much it’s so much it makes me feeeeeeeel so muuuuuuhuhuhuuuuch. There are a couple of places in it where I just. I just can see H talking to She: he looks off toward this one specific side camera twice, first when he says “I write too many songs about you” and also, in the second chorus, when he sings “what if I’m someone I don’t want around”—and the camera goes a little wavy, almost like he’s drunk (and again I can’t I can’t go down the substance gender link path rn but I do see it here, there’s a lot there and it’s for a different day but I think it’s important).

A still from the first instance of him doing the jim halpert office thing except it’s sadgay JESUS this video is gorgeous

It feels really conspiratorial in these two moments, too, like he’s looking toward someone watching him through the curtains, or he’s at least conscious of their awareness of him, of She watching him as he sings about longing for a more genuine way of existing. Again, this could be the partner that he’s singing to, the person he feels separated from and has hurt, who the hell knows, but I just. I like to think in my own little heart that it’s part of him. I myself often feel my inner self, the self I wish I were more like, watching me as I stumble and fall my way through my life; the idea of Harry sitting at this watery piano and singing about a self he wishes he could be while he feels that self around him, pushing on him, surrounding him in the form of water, watching him from the window (which opens only as the water begins to flood out of the piano, mind)—it makes me feel seen, real or not.

To me, She is everywhere in this video: I think she’s watching him from the window, I think she’s the water itself, she’s inside Harry and you can see it on his face, She might even be the piano, too. And obviously Falling is extremely watery, ending with Harry submerged and floating in the most beautiful beautiful beautiful shot with his train unfurling out behind him and then it zooms in on his face and I just. I watch the ending of that video and. His face. The way it kind of twitches, the way he looks so sad, like the weight on and around and within him is unbearable, it just. I feel. So much. Look at him. It wrenches me, wrenches my whole heart.

GOD i wish i could gif i can’t gif somebody gif that ending for me I’ll love you forever

Water's been H’s thing, obviously, so it makes a lot of sense that it would form another link between Falling and TG—thematically it links so much of his work, so it feels a bit silly to even point it out, but. I’m still going to. Because, though I know some of the Two Ghosts visuals are technically supposedly of lava rather than water, it just. This is water to me. This is rainbow gay water to me, that's my chosen reality.

Shirt’s a bit similar to the one he’s wearing in the Falling video, too. And the thing with the rainbow water is. First, it’s water, right? Which is just so prevalent throughout H’s work, throughout everything, this idea that there’s something with him and water, him being wet in the Lights Up video everything’s on a beach or near a body of water he falls in love by bodies of water it’s just. Waterwaterwaterwater. Yes. So here the water is rainbow, and it makes all the sense in the world to me because, like, I’m so attached to the idea that there’s a connection between H being in the water and existing as a fuller, queerer self, a more loving self. Being connected to the best of himself, all of that human goodness, even if it’s painful, even if he feels like he’s drowning, even if he sometimes feels like he literally can't do it; almost like the water represents him learning to live and breathe in a different way, turn into a creature who can survive underwater (mermaid shit). And in the TG visuals we have Harry literally floating in the middle of a rainbow ocean? Standing in a rainbow maybe-lava lake? In a song that I��m wondering whether you can partially read as the narrator expressing a searing longing to be closer to who he truly is?

Ok.

And you know what this also looks like to me? The rainbow water? It looks like when you spill gasoline in the water and it spreads out and gets all rainbowy and colorful and pretty and you’re looking at it like wow that’s so lovely floating there all iridescent and shimmery even though you know it’s toxic. Especially the image up there on the left. It looks like a spill, a slick of some substance that is mixing with the water. And it just. It makes me think: is this suggesting that all the forces in the world that hide queer people from themselves have poisoned H's (or the speaker's) self-discovery, the ability to be in the water with She? Cathartic hurt comfort self-contained reading of Falling from earlier certainly doesn’t not fit with that.

And because this rainbow water is beautiful—and it is, these visuals are stunning—does the rainbowy watery thing also suggest that the things queer people have to do to maintain and nurture our whole selves in the midst of all the poisonous chemicals poured into us by the homophobic transphobic world are themselves beautiful—not to idolize the trauma and pain that so often come with existing as a queer person, of course, but—idk, is there something here about the conservation of ourselves despite so many toxins being dumped into the water that makes us up? About all our acts of self-preservation being beautiful and honorable and ocean-deep? I don’t know. In any case, it’s more than just a happyrainbowgay symbol to me. I think about it a lot.

(Relevant and of note: @swimmingleo has a thought-provoking moment with this whole. Contaminated water ~thing in regards to the pink HS1 water/all of that most beloved debut album in their wonderful wonderful post on HS1 and The Wall and I'm pretty sure I read that post ages ago and my brain absorbed the pink water thing and just like took it and ran with it without realizing you said it first so here I am acknowledging my ancestors. Read that one ASAP read it yesterday.)

And the rainbows just keep coming, he keeps doing it. He keeps fckin GOING with the rainbow water, goddammit, this is an ss from the SOTT mv that about made me spit take my coffee when I was rewatching it for this post.

God am i done yet is this bitch done yet GET OFF THE STAGE

In conclusion. The hill I am dying on today. Is that there is an undercurrent of self-exploration and self-discovery, of trying to do better by oneself—and the pain that all that sometimes brings—in these two now-mashed-up songs that are usually read to be coupley—mostly about Harry’s mistakes in relationships, or about him growing distant from another person he has loved. Two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty…….. I don't know, but I feel it, I see it. The water’s draining out, She is feeling more and more inaccessible to the narrator because the world is a poisonous intolerant place and yet he’s still drowning in her, still falling into himself even as he feels like he’s falling away from himself, he can’t get away from himself even as he tries so hard to reach himself—and oh it’s just so familiar, it’s so ambivalent. It aches so much and it’s so important.

Anyway I love Falling with all of my mopey little heart and I will love it forever until the end of time.

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Hello! Could you know what the boys' jealousy would be like if Casey flirted with their S / O? 😂

ok this is so fun

Leo

so you’ve just gotten to the lair and you’re sort of hanging around out of the way and fixing your clothes-making sure you look presentable 

when a guy you’ve never seen before walks up to you with this kinda cute, kind of arrogant smirk 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in this dump?”

before you even have time to answer he’s taking again, you imagine he likes the sound of his own voice

“You must be lost. Tell ya’ what, why don;t we get out of here and I’ll take you somewhere nice? Maybe dinner?”

that’s when you look over and see Leo leaning against the door frame smiling

why the fuck was he smiling?

Casey notices you look away and follows your gaze

Leo starts “No, please. Keep it up. I’m sure my girlfriend loves this. Where else would you like to take her?” he’s still smiling but there’s a hardness to his voice

Casey realises the fuck up he’s just made and starts to backtrack “I only meant-I didn’t know-I mean you guys date?-How could I-”

Leo continues “after dinner, then what? A nice moonlight walk around the park? Huh?” 

Casey just takes the L and walks away

you thank Leo for getting you out of that to which he just responds “I don’t no you sure you wouldn’t rather grab dinner with him?” He says with a wink

Raph

so it’s not a party as such, just the boys and a few of their friends hanging out, drinking, listening to music. A few people you haven’t met before

speaking of people you’ve never met before- a guy approaches you

“Can I just say, you look far too beautiful to be cooped up down here in a sewer. Let’s say you and I go get a drink somewhere”

he puts his hand on your waist

you already know what’s coming

no sooner than he touches you, a hand appears on his shoulder and pulls him right back

Raphael is all up in his face, not even talking just breathing so hard you think he might kill him

“what’d yer say to my girl?”

It dawns on Casey just how big of a no-no that was

“You want to take her where?”

you have to physically stop him for reaching for Casey’s throat

as you use all of your strength to pull him away (he’s clearly letting you pull him) he just yell obscenities at him

2 drinks later and he’s calmed down but he’s still giving Casey the evil eye

this turt needs a lot of validation and affection from you for the rest of the night to get over it

a few hours later and he’s back to laughing and joking with Casey and all is good

Mikey

You got the the lair before the boys did, this wasn’t unusual but you didn’t like feeling like you were invading their space

but it turns out you were’t alone

April and a guy were also there just talking and April introduces him as “Casey”

he clearly takes a liking to you, he’s practically undressing you with his eyes

that’s when he starts to talk “honey, you just look lovely. What the hell are you doing down here? Why don’t I give you my umber and-”

that’s when a “hey, man!” comes from behind you both

“Casey, dawg. Not cool. That’s my girl, my baby, *my* honey! Bro code, man...”

Casey is wide eyed and looking back between you and Mikey

with a “really?” he lets it go and walks away

“Yeah, go steal some other guys chick while you’re over there!” Mikey calls

he seems to handle it pretty well but you can tell he’s a little insecure now

plenty of kisses and affection later and he’s back to his beaming self tho

Donnie

it’s later at the lair and the guys are all doing their respective things

when some guy shows up and seems to know his way around as he happily grabs a drink from the fridge and walks around like he owns the place

cue him spotting you

his eyes light up and he walks over

“this might seem a little forward but, would you like to get dinner with me? I’m Casey and you are....Just to die for”

you give him a confused look, he must be new around here....

unfortunately for you both, Donnie walked in right at the moment

looks Casey up and down, puts and arm around you and asks “Can my girlfriend or I help you, Case?”

realising his mistake, he just says “Nope, not at all” and walks off

but Donnie aint right for the net few hours

you ask him about it and he just says “Well, you didn’t tell him no”

it takes a fair bit of convincing to get him to believe that it’s because you were stunned that he even had the balls to look your way but eventually (and a lot of words of affirmation later) he believes you

he never looks at Casey the same after that day tho

doesn’t trust him around you

[luckyqueenreign]

hii so i just got this idea and i haaaave to share

you know taylor swift’s my tears ricochet?

THE BRIDGE

'and i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want, just not home'- suresh can literally have anyone, like, the girls are dropping their panties and opening up their legs for him, BUT the only girl he wants, the only one that feels like home is mc, and he fucked up their relationship and can’t go back to her, even if that’s the only thing he truly wants, cause she cut him off after the break up.

'and you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones' he hurt mc. badly. that’s not up for debate. and in the villa, knowingly or not, he’s still hurting her (i mean coupling up with arlo and flirting with her the whole day even tho mc said she wants to give him a second chance? dick move). but even tho he’s kind of digging that knife deeper and deeper, he seeks mc, he misses her, he needs her. and he’ll still do anything to get her back. he’s trying his best, just has a funny way of showing it (lmao)

'you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same' by hurting mc, his one true love, he hurt himself. he repeatedly shows signs of selfloathing, especially in those episodes right before casa; "i spent a long time wishing i could take it back, how i hurt you" "living without you doesn’t even compare" "they haven’t learnt the lesson i learnt from losing you" and whenever mc takes a jab at him, he always has the sad expression. that man is hurting, he regrets everything he did, especially cause he sees that mc’s upset by it, even after all this time has passed.

Bestie YES TO ALL OF THIS!! Fellow Swiftie here, I’ve been playing Folklore nonstop since this season started!! I think that album as a whole is soooo MC/Suresh vibes, the angst, the love, even the cheating / moving on parts of their relationship.

Your take on the lyrics are so spot on 😭 I think the lyrics work even better if you’re on a Suresh route but i could even see them working when you’re not and just have so much angst about the relationship😫.

Also this part:

“And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)”

It gives me his last speech before casa vibes. When he told MC that the reason he came was because she probably needed closure, because he still did. Makes me think of how many sleepless nights he spent thinking of MC, talking to her ghost to pass the time 😭😫

If you thought tears ricochet worked for them, listen to exile 😭😫😣😩😖 it’s sad, so fair warning, when you compare to their relationship.

[miekasa]

mie!! i’m so late to the party but i absolutely loved ‘NICE’, it made me feel so warm and fuzzy <33 it’s so unique to its own and the flow of it is beyond wonderful!

what is married life like for oc and eren in ‘NICE’? is it just like before/do you have any nice!husband!eren headcanons?

AHH I’m so happy you liked it and that you took the time to come and tell me!! Married life for them... doesn’t really differ from what their lives looked like before actually hehe. They were basically married without knowing it 🙄🙄 idiots to lovers or something like that; but here are a few head canons of the months immediately following NICE!

You officially got married in Paris on the fourth, not too long after Carla’s wedding. You guys flew in some officials, checked through all the technicalities, and signed the papers right on top of the Eiffel Tower (access granted by the city of Paris upon request of one Carla Jaeger, of course). 

Aside from having the most picturesque location in the world to sign your marriage certificate, there wasn’t anything lavish in celebration after that. Carla’s wedding was just three days earlier, after all, and was still the talk of the local press. You did have a small party with your friends (Jean, Armin, Mikasa, Marco, Erwin, Levi, Hange came from the Alps for Carla’s wedding) in your overly large hotel room. Just some music, room service, and lots and lots of champagne.

Eren extended your winter break vacation by two weeks for an impromptu honeymoon to the Bahamas before you went home. Let’s just say you did not leave the safe haven of your hotel room very often, except to dip into the ocean a few nights (benefits of a private beach).

After getting married, the rings swapped places; the band with diamonds previously on your pointer finger was put on a chain (a new one since Eren threw the other one on the ground 💀), and you now wear the engagement ring on your ring finger.

Eren doesn’t like it when you take off the ring (the ring being the engagement ring). The first time you were going into the water, you were going to put it on the chain for safekeeping, but he protested very strongly. He would rather it rest safely in your suitcase than go around your neck again.

Your wedding bands are actually very similar to the band you already have: gold and diamond encrusted. Eren’s, however, has an emerald in the center, like the two emeralds that serve as the pistils of the sunflowers in your engagement ring (for reference, that ring looks something like this, but with a gold band). The bands were the first thing Eren bought when you guys got home.

Your friends in Dubai (Ymir, Reiner, Annie, Connie, Sasha) had no idea that you and Eren got married over winter break. Safe to say they were all… very surprised to hear the news. Connie was a little bit bitter because he missed it, and wolf whistles every time he sees your ring (even though he’s seen it before because you wore it on the necklace every day).

You got married in January, but have an official wedding in the process of being planned sometime around late summer/early fall. Carla insisted that you guys have a wedding despite already being married, and Eren agreed whole heartedly. They are both very into planning it, and yes, Eren is somewhat of a bridezilla, and his mom is enabling him 100% please.

The night you signed the wedding papers, Carla lent you an off-white satin couture gown from one of her past collections. She is designing and making your official wedding dress by hand, with the help of Mikasa.

The two of them are also making Eren’s suit, and all the outfits for your wedding party. Carla will murder you if you even so much as hint at just buying other suits/dresses. This is her baby’s wedding, and she runs one of the most renowned fashion houses of the modern century; she’ll be damned if you guys wear something off the rack.

You considered a destination wedding, but settled on having it in New York. You haven’t decided a location yet, and it’s the one thing Eren isn’t actually picky about (because you know he’s gonna go ham on the decor no matter where it is bye).

Jean doesn’t know it yet, but he’s your maid of honor. Good luck and best of wishes to Eren picking between Mikasa and Armin for best man.

Even before confessing and getting married, Eren never slept much in his own bedroom. You both have California king sized beds in your rooms, and more often than not, Eren would sleep with you in your bed. You didn’t always cuddle, but he just liked to be there (for your presence, and because he was grossly in love bye)… you ended up cuddling a lot of the time tho.

He wants to renovate your apartment now that you both “officially” live in the same bedroom, even though it’s not necessary. He just likes renovating things.

You guys go to dinner every weekend, and sometimes you even go dancing. Eren still can’t dance and he doesn’t actually care to learn; it just reminds him of being in Nice with you.

He kisses your ring finger every morning waking up and every night before going to bed; sometimes he even does it subconsciously in his sleep.

He holds your hand way more often. Not just because you guys are together now, but because he likes seeing the ring where it’s meant to be. He also notices that it helps to curb your anxiety, which is a good bonus.

Eren wants kids, but he hasn’t really brought it up yet. He knows you both are fairly young, and that you’re still technically in school, but that’s not really a deterrent for him.

The only reason he’s waiting to say something is because you guys have a lot going on with wedding planning and settling in to “married life”—there’s a lot of tedious paperwork to be done and documents to update. He’ll bring it up next year when all that is settled.

On the subject of school, you are still attending university, but have been eligible for graduation for a year now. You had enough credits to graduate last (the year before NICE) December, but there were a few more classes you wanted to take out of interest that hadn’t been running in past years, so you stayed for all four years. Eren picks you up from your lectures.

Eren graduated in December before you guys went on vacation. By normal standards, that’s a semester early. However, he was supposed to be in this Honors Arts and Sciences program, that should have taken him another two semesters. He decided it wasn’t worth it, and dropped the honors part, and with that, had enough credits to graduate, so he did.

A college degree is really more of an accessory for him anyway, and school was never his thing. He’s decently smart, sure, but he never enjoyed school because of the emphasis on exams; he’s more of a creative person, a dreamer if you will. The only reason he even went to Columbia was because you decided to go there. 

He and you both have enough money to live more than comfortably if neither of you decided to get a job after graduation… way more than enough/ But Eren isn’t doing nothing; he’s actually sorta been working his way into the world of professional interior design, and he really loves it. You’re proud of him, and more than anything, happy that he decided to go for something he loves.

Armin and Jean also graduated a semester early. Armin’s been living with Mikasa since Connie got his own place off-campus in January. Jean is a little upset blondie is living with his girlfriend before he is, but it’s whatever 🙄if it’s gonna be anyone, at least it’s Armin. 

Carla mentioned that Eren got married sometime during a NYFW interview (along with talking about her own recent marriage), and since then you both have interviewed for two magazines, one of which featured pictures from your smaller party in Paris. You’ve gotten requests from Vanity Fair and Vogue about your bigger wedding later in the year, but you guys haven’t invited any media officials as of yet.

You and Eren attend the MET Gala almost every year. You don’t walk the red carpet and nobody is scrambling to take your pictures; but you have passes because of Carla. Also, you could just buy your way in if you wanted you (and your friends have in the past). This year, Eren had to pay two security officers $10k in bribes because you two snuck away to fuck in… a part of the museum not sectioned off for the event. Whoopsies.

Even before Eren got him arrested, going out to brunch was kind of your and Armin’s thing. Eren insists he should be invited now that he’s your husband. He is not. (His bitterness grows when he learns that Jean has secured himself an invite somehow).

Eren sold the car he got arrested for drag racing in. He never told you why—and as far as transportation goes, it wasn’t a big deal because you guys have other cars—but, to him, it was a kind of symbol. He thinks it’s dumb if he thinks too long about it, but he just didn’t wanna have that there are a reminder of how he’d hurt you and his mom.

Jean still drives you to your therapy appointments, but now Eren picks you up. Eren also goes to therapy himself, and has been before you guys got married; his therapist says he’s undoubtedly happier in recent sessions… like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulder.

As far as drugs go, there’s, of course, weed on a happy occasion, or at a party; but he hasn’t touched coke since that one time (which was also the first time he’d ever done it). That’s not even him being a changed man, he just didn’t like it—he only argued with you about it because he was being stubborn. He’s more of a drinker than anything, and absolutely loves to get you drunk on a special occasion, too; he always has. He thinks you look cute, and he likes taking care of you.

You have lived in that apartment with Eren for years before marrying him, yet he insisted you needed to christen the place like it was brand new… at this point, the only places you haven’t fucked in are the elevator itself, the foyer, the storage closet, and the pool. The latter only because it’s been too cold in NYC… trust and believe pool sex is coming lmfao.

Eren bought the apartment and renovated and designed it, but he never did like being in it all alone, and that’s been magnified since you got married. If he’s there by himself, he’s usually in the living area, napping on the daybed. He waits for your faithfully every day, and is hardly in the bedroom if you’re not.

Eren has not stopped introducing you as his wife since January. Even to people in passing like cashiers and bartenders, everyone in the whole damn city probably knows you guys got hitched.

[stressy-enby]

A lovely person who has asked to remain anonymous asked:

Hi, can I request headcannons for Iida, Todoroki, and Bakugo liking a brown female reader with bubblegum pink hair that has a quirk with wings and horns like Angelina Jolie’s Maleficent but magic like Scarlet Witch’s? She’s super intelligent, skilled, witty,crafty, and doesn’t let anyone push her around (big bottom energy tho). Also super, super clueless about when people want to befriend her or have romantic feelings for her. (Bonus: insecure about her horns and wings and they reassure her that she’s literally fucking gorgeous).

I would love to write this for you! I loved your character description, but a fair warning: I probably won't touch very much on the Reader being brown, seeing as I am as white as a ghost and also stupid. I hope you enjoy regardless. 😅

Also, I haven't written for Bakugo or Todoroki in a hot minute. This'll be fun

Warnings: Swearing

Masterlist

. . .

Tenya Iida

It’s not love at first sight, more like intrigue at first sight

He notices that you’re a loner. You don’t fall into groups the way everyone else does the first couple weeks of school

He mentions this to his friends once, and Midoriya’s like, “one sec,”

He leaves, then comes back 2 minutes later with you in tow

“She said she’s sit with us at lunch! I wanted to talk about her quirk anyway.”

You’re like “ok i guess this is happening”

And thus the Dekusquad adopts you

You’re a good foil for the group

Whereas Iida, Uraraka and Midoriya are generally cheery and good natured, you’re cynical and snappish, and get along surprisingly well with them all

Iida’s drawn to your prickly disposition. He attaches himself to you at the hip and you kind of let him

He’s nice enough. A little uppity, and certainly dramatic, but not insufferable

He finds himself becoming more and more taken with you by the day, and you find yourself becoming more adjusted to his presence

You’re not entirely sure why Iida insists on hanging around you so often, but you let him

You somehow missed the obvious heart eyes 🙄

One day, you’re hanging out with the girls, and Uraraka accidentally lets it slip that Iida has a crush on you

You go “Really? Does he?”

Literally all of them are like “....Did you not.... realize?”

It’s ok, you’re just a little dense

The girls convince you to ask him out, and you agree, albeit hesitantly

“I mean are you sure he-”

“YES, (Y/N)! He follows you around like a lost puppy!”

“That doesn’t mean he has a crush on me, though.”

“..... are you dumb???”

Shoto Todoroki

It’s funny because y’all are basically the same person

Super smart and powerful but really dense when it comes to emotions?

Ah yes. I see no problems here

You both ended up gravitating towards each other, just because you weren’t friends with anyone else

You shared a table at lunch but literally never spoke

You both had a mutual respect for each other, but it never really turned into anything more than that until..... you guessed: the Dekusquad adopted you two

They really do be taking in emotionally constipated and overpowered emos

You both talked more, and you started to grow on each other

When Todoroki first started falling for you, he legit thought he was dying 💀

His palms went clammy whenever you were close. His face heated up whenever you talked to him. His stomach seemed to tie itself it knots whenever he saw you.

Homie couldn’t connect the dots

Nor could you

Iida, Uraraka and Midoriya are watching you two like “can y’all just kiss already??”

One day, Todo notices that you seem more distant than usual

He pulls you aside after class and asks what’s up

After a little bit of gentle goading, you admit that someone called your horns ugly that morning

He literally says out loud “That’s just not true. There’re beautiful. All of you is beautiful.”

You take a minute to process his words, and that’s when it hits you that you like him.

“Oh shit,”

Katsuki Bakugo

Oh my god

You’re going to kill each other

So the Bakusquad forced themselves on Bakugo, right?

It was less of adoption and more of a kidnapping

They do the same more or less with you

Like the Dekusquad, the Bakusquad enjoys picking up less-then-friendly strays

You’re a little more accepting of your new group than Bakugo, who sticks around for you, ironically enough

Baku can’t deny that you’re powerful. You’re one of the strongest students there, and that makes you a rival

You settle right into that role, spewing insults and levying attacks at him

Y’all really said “enemies to lovers”-

Bakugo begrudgingly respects you, and you him

Neither of you can quite place when you stopped constantly scowling at each other and starting sharing knowing smirks 

Somehow your rivalry lead to friendship 

And then something more..... 👀

Like Todoroki, it takes Bakugo a while to figure out that he likes you, but when he does he’s like “No. Fuck. WHY?”

How did he go from hating your guts to wanting to kiss you stupid face?

You are equally confused

Baku asks you one day to go out for lunch with him, and you are thoroughly thrown for a loop

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“...you’re not all bad.”

“....huh.”

“Well? Spit it out!”

“I thought I didn’t like you.”

“And?”

“You’re also not all bad.”

[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.