#idk about you but the angst between them is delicious to explore

[mortifying-macaroni]

What's got you into the whole Tremere/Tzimisce dynamic? Just curious to know. I like them too

Well, anon, I'm glad you asked (btw you've got excellent taste). I'll try to keep it short and sweet with a few main bullet points *cracks fingers*

It's the perfect foundation for "somewhat acquaintances to enemies to lovers". Their first means of interaction stemmed from curiosity to potential cooperation laced with some form of trust as they partook in exchanging of knowledge and magic acumen, hell even some Tzimisce got embraced while carrying a Tremere name. Moreover, they lived in this brief unity until it all got squandered by the blood wizards' betrayal as we know.

Both clans are pretty much two enigmas wrapped in a mystery that battled on a tight rope throughout the ages. Despite the rocky road they're fiercely tangoing on, the fire from their mutual hatred keeps them on their feet as they're restlessly trying to take the lead in bringing the other party to their downfall. There are certain things that entwine them, things that establish a common ground for them to agree upon. Aside from the bit of blood they share by forceful means from the Tremere's side, both clans foster this penchant for torture in the name of academic pursuits. If melding their minds by combining their methods for causing destruction, then these two bloodlines could've been the most fearsome clan duo of educated executioners throughout kindred history.

I've already quoted this one part somewhere (*ahem* my fic), but they have the potential to work like scissors- the blades function to that of a married couple that carry out their tasks together in perfect synchronicity and unison, with equal toil put into it. They're two hands holding the gun, the hammer and firing pin pushing the bullet out. One example of that is their co-op dependant ability to create Blood Brothers. Think about it, A koldun fleshcrafter and a thaumaturgy sorcerer can mass produce walking weapons of annihilation, sort of like their "children" birthed for war through brutality and blood magic.

The whole kindred world may be cursing at them, deeming them as inhumane monsters and murderers and yet the Tzimisce and Tremere can only slow dance to the beat of chaos and pure pandemonium unfolding around them. Everything may as well be crumbling into ruin, but they'd still see an opportunity to salvage something from the suffering of others. What's more, I imagine if they were in a relationship they'd be partial to mutual inflictions of pain. All the pent up clan tension could provide an outlet to channel that (whether it be caused or sustained) hurt into a sort of gratification that nobody else could provide them.

A Tzimisce is an instrument of pain that a Tremere can learn to, not only appreciate, but study, even without applying force; just how a Tremere's knowledge can serve as a song for a Tzimisce to learn through guidance. Furthermore, if given the chance, either of them would kill or burn the whole world for their partner no questions asked. Even though they bring out the worst in each other, they'd remain where they are because nobody else can handle or keep up with all of their "ugly" aspects.

In other words, if only they weren't so stubborn about their clan beef, they could not only have the kinkiest sex imaginable, but also establish a Gomez/Morticia relationship if they'd just work everything out.

I have only one Tremere/Tzimisce ship, so I'm kinda going based on my own little headcanons regarding their own issues and how they can personally work together through them, in addition to some lore I've dug out on top of that.

Final verdict (in my humble, yet correct opinion): Best ship dynamic in VTM with Nosferatu/Toreador being the runner ups

[squidthoughts]

collected thoughts on the creloise matter (Big And Detailed Spoilers Ahead):

if it’s dual character assassination, it’s dual character assassination and irredeemable and frankly uninteresting and unfortunately the show becomes unwatchable for me personally. if it’s purposeful setup? it’s bloody brilliant. i mean it could actually be bloody brilliant. there are a few lines that feel very purposeful: pen’s “did you ever truly like her?” and the moment with cress and her mother when cress protests being cruel to the btons. both of which come after the creloise breakup and, you know, the uhhhh cessation of scenes together. creloise was dead. there was no reason to continue to examine the corpse. unless it wasn’t truly dead. ok, so there is now incredible potential in the CreloiseSituation(tm).

they hate each other. perfect! cressida was suffering all season and eloise was a truly terrible friend - i mean, comically selfish and villainous - that is to say, cressida’s actions (antagonistic as they were) were explained and justified within the narrative and eloise’s were not. ok! that’s fine. in the past, cress has been the unjustifiably cruel one. if anything, they are now on equal footing in terms of illogically hurting each other. so, they hate each other. which just means their growing back together could be that much more satisfying.

eloise’s choices didn’t make sense. they just…don’t. if her arc this season was to show her growth separate from pen, and it ends with nothing mattering to her but pen, it’s just nonsensical. (dont get me wrong- i’m glad they made up! their friendship is a core pillar of the show! but taking a season of development apart and introducing new dynamics into eloise’s life only to end her precisely where she was in season ONE is just…huh??) that is, unless elosie’s decisions don’t make sense YET. unless the point of her abandonment of a friend IS the abandonment. unless this is precisely the base a following season would need to portray el from a starting position of moral inferiority- a facet of her character not yet explored.

creloise both out of mayfair now. coincidence? well…maybe! i guess! but also, outside the set and setting of society. idk, that just screams landscape of possibility to me.

they’re both on the cusp of substantial development! cressida at rrrrock bottom and eloise striving to find experience and purpose. we’ve never seen cress this low and tortured or el this alone and unsure. idk. parallels.

nothing that made us love them so much in the first place has changed. they’re still mirrors. they’re still unflinchingly honest with each other - often the only ones who are. they’re still (deliciously) (occasionally) mean. the foundations are still there. and tbh, if all of this was purposeful, there is SO much conflict and strife between them that i actually really love it. the angst! the tension! the possible banter! eloise abandoned cress at the worst possible time in her life and cress betrayed eloise (out of desperation but facts are facts) and neither of them got an explanation. and for a summer and a season they were very much alone together and enjoying each other and the betrayals sting because the friendship mattered in the first place. and that broken dynamic is just. so yummy. and the hate is there because the embarrassment is there and the embarrassment is there because….i liked you. and you burned me. and i cant believe i was stupid enough to like you. but i did like you, i did.

also, i’m sure the showrunners were understandably wary about how the audience would react to cressida this season. up until now, she’s been a glorified extra; the personality-less stereotype of the loveless, callous debutante bridgerton’s grand love stories exist to subvert. in s1 she was a joke (daphne and simon laughing about her scripted flirting) and in s2 she was the hopeless and petty mean girl. there was no reason for the audience to like her, because she was hardly a character and certainly not a person. i imagine suddenly linking her to everyone’s fan favorite eloise was seen as a huge risk— in case of a negative reaction, cress could hardly be established as a romantic prospect as well, possibly guaranteeing a large portion of screentime to someone the audiences don’t even like. creators obviously shouldn’t feel the urge to cater to an audience’s whims of how they think a story should go - this would be very bad!! - but i do think the extreme outpouring of appreciation for cress this season might enable the writers to utilize her more in the future. she’s a real character now with depth and her story has established loyalty in fans- narratively there is freedom there for some satisfying payoffs.

all this to say, this season reduced my expectations to not quite zero, but somewhere around one. the finale was crowded and unfocused and more than a few things just did not make sense and the queer rep felt very sudden and trite - for shock value, practically - and we were forced to watch creloise hacked to pieces….but, i maintain, if it was all purposeful….idk. i personally don’t think all hope is lost.

[fearandhatred]

@knifeforkspooncup wanted angst fics so here's a rec list from the very few fanfics i have had time to read lmaoo. some of these are in my other rec list but that was a shorter and more general one so i'll put them here again

mourning doves by sleepyimpulse (22k words, 7 chapters)

“I’m sorry,” he registered himself saying between heaving sobs. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, please forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he knew the words were all wrong (he would never find the right ones). But the pain was coming at him in every direction and something, something had to give, and so he clung to Crowley like a life preserver. Crowley bent his body over Aziraphale’s and slowly, surely, pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Aziraphale went unconscious. (Aziraphale falls, post season 2)

i've recced this before and i'll do it again! this is my very first bookmarked gomens fic and it's so delicious. perfect amount of angst and such a thoughtful exploration of forgiveness

Ouroboros by midnightdragons (7k words, 1 chapter)

“Oh.” Muriel had frowned again, their voice confused. “Then . . . if they were special, why did he leave them?” Crowley thought that his expression must have spoken louder than any words ever could have, because Muriel had rushed to change the subject, and they hadn’t mentioned Aziraphale after that. An obligatory ‘Crowley coping terribly and Aziraphale coming to his senses’ fic because I finally watched s2 and I have a lot of Feelings (ft. Crowley being a sort-of parent to Muriel, sort-of friends with Nina and Maggie, and drinking enough alcohol to kill at least an entire civilization)

it is not a good omens angst rec list without a crowley breaking down post-season 2 fic :) and this is that fic. she is that girl

Zmija by Himitsu_no (3k words, 4 chapters)

Aziraphale would laugh and his fingers find their way into the red locks with practiced ease, and he'd bend to kiss the top of his head. "Did they do that, though? The evil deeds." Crowley would smile despite himself, eyes closed and leaning into the caress. "About a dozen, maybe. The rest were just... ordinary humans doing ordinary stuff." There'd be a long pause in which the angel would take it all in, and the demon would replay many of it in his mind with unease. Then Aziraphale would speak again, voice barely a whisper, "How long were you in Mesopotamia after the flood, my love?"

if u asked me to talk about this fic i would say 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 bc oh this hurt. idk if it's just me though because characters with kids is my sore spot lmao i have read this fic once and never again. gorgeous beautiful poetic heartbreaking don't even talk to me

Diffusing Lights, Confusing Times by snek_of_eden (15k words, 3 chapters)

Aziraphale pulled the door open slowly and stood in the entranceway. He wore an old-fashioned nightgown that was creamy in colour, and his eyes were cloudy with sleep. “Crowley…” He inhaled sharply when a drop of blood dripped on his bare foot, and Crowley winced. “Are you alright? Oh Heavens, are you bleeding?” Crowley mustered up a smile. He took a step forward, and his head began to spin. “Hey, Angel.” Then he stumbled into Aziraphale’s arms and everything started to turn fuzzy. *** Hell is terrible and Crowley turns to Aziraphale when he has nowhere left to go

basically what it says in the summary! hurt crowley and aziraphale comforts him. crowley is sad but aziraphale is also sad. angst and communication!! i don't usually read a lot of physical hurt/comfort but this is so good

when i knew love’s perfect ache by sugarskulled (1.8k words, 1 chapter)

A demon can't touch that which has been made holy by God. Crowley knows this well as anyone. And Aziraphale? Aziraphale is so holy it burns.

this is quite possibly my favourite good omens fic of all time i think about it so often bro. i love when problems don't just resolve themselves but they make it work. the angst is so good in both the fic itself and in the future implications of it (why does this sound like i'm writing a research paper)

something sweet and blue by perilit (7.2k words, 4 chapters)

Crowley’s not breathing. They don’t technically need to, but the lack of it is so jarring that for a minute, Aziraphale just stands there and trembles, overwhelmed. Lord, what have I done? Aziraphale returns from Heaven after a year away, and discovers Crowley has all but given up. Before he can put things to rights, he’ll have to coax Crowley back to living.

what? you want another post-season 2 crowley breakdown? fantastic. this is that but dialed up to 11. this is the kind of self-indulgent fic i search for because we will never see it in canon and it hurts so good

Haunted By Something Still Alive by WaitingToBeBroken (4k words, 1 chapter)

Aziraphale needs Crowley's help with raising the reincarnation of Jesus. Problem is, Crowley won't even look at him.

what's that? you want ANOTHER- ok no this isn't a crowley breakdown but it's him having to deal with aziraphale being back and the journey they take together. ft. nanny crowley!!!!!!! so many gorgeous moments in this

that concludes the angst recs for now. thank u for coming

[luckydragon10]

Hello Nemi! *throws heart confetti on the floor*

THE SHIP HAS HAPPENED, WE GOT KISSES HELL YEAH

Oh my god so much happened this chapter I am so well fed ejzjsjdn

So first of all - more jealous Kinn and I indeed snorted it like cocaine

Tay and Kinn affectionately bullying Porsche and Porsche getting all the dirt from Kinn's youth from Tay? *chief kiss*

Oh OH THE BATHROOM SCENE I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE FROM SQUEALING LIKE AHHH

But also the angst was delicious, I love how you give Tay space to still deal with the impact Time left, like just because we are moving onto the romantic arc with Kinn and Porsche now even deeper then ever Tay still is haunted by what Time does and it still dictates a lot of his thoughts and decisions and idk, I just appreciate it

Also I love how you always describe Kinn's and Porsche's love

Porsche and Tay gossiping together is my favorite headcanon and kisses to you for including it

Porsche being sort of Kinn's handler and meditator - very funny and I love it but also my poor bean Kinn

Kinn loving Tay for such a long time - just break my heart why don't you? The line about him regretting that he didn't go to him after that first breakup? Uh straight to the heart, I'm crying clutching the phone in my arms, cradling it like one would a baby (also i saw something abt something from Kinn's perspective?? I cannot wait untill this angst hits me when you decide to post it 👀👀)

Also ahh the description of Kinn's love hitting Tay - so good, reread it like four times already, can't get enough of it and AHHH Porsche's "you're so easy to fall for" chewing on wood, batshit crazy

Kinn hugging Tay and not letting go so Porsche needs to kiss him over Kinn? Idk just a nice image that warms my heart

Ah ah and the deal making! That was so funny and as Porsche said "rich people" i was like "nerds" very affectionately and I would only like to say that you are included for that statement, Nemi you little adorable nerd

Anyway thank you so much for writing the chapter - I loved it! See you on the next one hahaha

Have a good day/night Nemi 💕💞

WE HAVE A SHIP! \o/ Long may it sail!

There can never be too much possessive Kinn, at least not in my books. And as long as he's demonstrating claim and not actually being controlling, I will roll in it like catnip. 😍

And look, there is just gonna be so much loving bullying going on in this ship, it's ridiculous. Outsiders will look at it and ask "how does that even work?" but after watching the dynamic for a few days, they slowly catch on.

But also the angst was delicious, I love how you give Tay space to still deal with the impact Time left, (...)

Look, look, about Tay and the impact that Time left, I just started thinking about it and there were so many potential ramifications that it hurt my heart. What does it mean to love someone like that for so long? To stick with them when they never really quite love you back the way you need? When I explored it, I just thought "oh, that would impact self-esteem in a big way, obviously."

One thing I also wanted to get across is that the relationship between each of them is very, very different. Kinn and Porsche sort of always have this power struggle going on, and it's INTENSE. They burn so brightly. And between Kinn and Tay there's soooo much history and things left unsaid and longing on Kinn's part and longing-mixed-with-self-doubt on Tay's, and again, it's INTENSE, but in a very different flavor, more classic romantic/yearning. Meanwhile, between Porsche and Tay? It's just so deliciously easy, calm and soothing, a friendship-love that's a balm to both their hearts, something that for once in their lives isn't a struggle.

^_^ It makes me haaaapppyyyy.

Kinn hugging Tay and not letting go so Porsche needs to kiss him over Kinn? Idk just a nice image that warms my heart

Kinn being a big, stubborn baby is also one of my favorite things.

So, Dom, are you ready for tomorrow? ARE YOU READY FOR THE LAST CHAPTER?

(Well, last chapter of this fic, but more ficlets to come in the future as part of the series. 😏)

[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.

[whereistheonepiece]

I think part of the reason we got so much more fic/art when Sanji asked Zoro to kill him is because that moment was very much about their relationship – and in a WAY more significant way than we’ve seen in years. Like post time jump we’ve gotten so much less interaction between the two of them so I think that’s why the fandom responded so strongly to it.

To me the significance of that moment was that Sanji asked Zoro specifically, not that Sanji might die (a thing I was not worried about for the same reason I’m not worried about Zoro- Oda isn’t going to kill a straw hat). For me it’s more compelling to explore what got their relationship to that point (and especially what it means to Zoro that Sanji asked him to kill him- something that is super traumatic even if their relationship is platonic).

Idk I’m also not a huge fan of hurt/no comfort and need happy endings in my fic so that’s my bias. I do hope you find the angst fest you’re looking for though and I hope it delicious!

That's a fair interpretation and I respect your perspective. I'm just way more skeptical about it because of my previously stated grievances with this fandom. I definitely agree that Sanji asking Zoro to kill him is significant to their relationship. It's why I particularly enjoyed the moment. Not in a sadistic way, but because I do think it's a testament to how much Sanji trusts and respects Zoro, despite how Sanji in particular has behaved post-timeskip and despite what little interaction they've had. It's intimate, in a messed up way. Sanji trusts no one else other than Zoro to get the job done.

But I remain skeptical that the fan content is about their relationship. To me it's seemed geared more towards Sanji Whump. I haven't read any fics with this premise because I actually haven't sought out Zosan fic in a while because of my problems with how unbalanced the relationship seems in people's portrayal, so I'll have to take your word for it, but the fanart I've seen definitely seems geared more towards Sanji Whump so people can cry some more about it.

And I think content about Zoro dying and getting better (because obviously that's what's going to happen) lends itself more to hurt/comfort than Zoro running Sanji through like in the fanart I saw immediately after Sanji asked him to kill him. And hurt/comfort is actually the flavor of angst I'm looking for. Sanji has to deal with the fact that he nearly lost Zoro because Zoro pushes himself so hard, and Zoro has to deal with the fact that he very nearly died, for real this time. And if one really wants some extra Sanji Angst, they could compare it to what happened on Thriller Bark with Kuma.

But I don't know. I just don't trust that the fanart I've seen was made in response to their relationship, barring one where Zoro tells Sanji he believes in him. I think I'm feeling a lot less charitable with my response because of my stated problems with how Zoro is treated by a lot of the fandom, particularly since several of the accounts I follow clearly have a preference.

Regardless, thanks for your input.

[meandmyechoes]

The more I think about Dark Disciple, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quintress, but I also just, can’t?

I mean, yes. It’s very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. But I also, don’t really see it in that ’omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them’ sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don’t really, actively ‘ship’ it — like the way it was an open book with Rhayme or Latts Razzi (since it’s the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quintress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask how much it is tainted with my personal view on relationships.

I know the plot leaves little room for “the future” and fed us well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don’t think their relationship is "weak", but it’s very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can’t really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that’s it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It’s just… I don’t really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it’s much more a physical attraction thing that I don’t really have personal experience with.

I don’t know if quintress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I’m quite disappointed Ventress wasn’t doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it’s deliciously written, there’s not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It’s a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she’s more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she’s gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. and surprise! Our “assassination” plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I’ve read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the conventional to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the “Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos”. Now, I can’t dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there’s no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic varied person to person from the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie Lucas’s foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there’s always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you’re willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that’s a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quintress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obi-Satine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leave him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream.

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Jedi Order, I still have to do more reading on it from other sources to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj Ventress and Quinlan Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quintress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful (I guess) thing is they chose each other.

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes the contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. And I've been a canon apologist since forever. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[26th April 16:00]

I must address that I got spoiled of the ending and the first and second half of the book probably went through some big changes.

If I cried for this book, it’s score would be even higher. And I’ve been so obsessed with discussing the relationship, without shedding light on the characterization, which is definitely an unfortunate side effect. Then it occurs that quite possibly the second half (26-42) deviated even further from the script than the first? It doesn’t have concept art or blocking, plus possibly (heavily) edited to omit correlation to other arcs. My major complaint for the second half is Ventress doesn’t do much and we know NOTHING about Vos, even though he is given screen time in the book. my, I just wish Ventress punch him harder and drag his idiotic mess back to the light sooner.

And to criticism about it being their ‘toxic’ relationship being portrayed as ‘true love’, well, it really depends on how thoughtful the reader is, right? I think if the reader is able to notice all these red flags and gave their own interpretation of the relationship and its outcome, it’d’ve been an educating experience. There’s what for the reader and what for the characters. They don’t know this ‘love’ is destroying them, and what kind of message is it sending? What ‘love’ depicted in the book is true then? I have my answers, and I hope every reader comes to their own as well.

[lostinthewinterwood]

FFFX Letter

Hey there friend!  Thanks for creating something for me, especially something so long! :D

 I hope you have fun with this—if you want more ideas, my other exchange letters are here, and you can find fandom-specific tags below.  If you’re looking to make treats I’d be delighted to receive them in any medium.

  General DNW

non-con/dub-con; non-canonical permanent major character death; heavy angst; hurt no comfort; on-page deliberate self-harm*; on-page suicide; smut; gore; grimdark; complete downer endings; character bashing; incest; cringe comedy; a/b/o; mpreg; graphic eye trauma; graphic hand trauma; issuefic; unrequested full-setting aus; unrequested identity headcanons; unrequested romance as the main plot.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. however, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

  General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason, though not as a fetish thing—that I enjoy less.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun, especially as a fix-it.  I have a general preference for Peggy Sue style (aka, an older character getting put back in their younger body at an earlier point in the timeline) over the character’s physical body stepping back in time, but either one is good.

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

– Canon-divergence AUs and missing scenes; things set pre- or post-canon; wriggling into canon and poking at it to see what it spits back at you, if that description makes any sense at all.

  On Art/Comics

I don’t really have any strong opinions on how art should be—you do you in your art style—and idk, I don’t have anything specific to say here, my general prompts should probably be enough to go off of for creating comics too?  I hope so, at least.

   Original Work  

Tags

·        Group: Adolescent Superhero with a Secret ID & Adolescent Supervillain with a Secret ID (OW)

·        Group: Archmage & Apprentice (OW)

·        Group: Child Superhero & Their Concerned Supervillain Nemesis (OW)

·        Group: Consummate Duelist Who Always Duels Over Others' Honor & Their Long-Suffering Second (OW)

·        Group: Dangerous Mercenary & Street Kid Who Tries To Pickpocket Them (OW)

·        Group: Fugitive Prince/Exiled Alchemist (OW)

·        Group: Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & His Older Female Mentor (OW)

·        Princess Heir in Exile for Political Reasons (OW)

·        Fanfic: 1 x 10000-Word Fic

 fandom-specific notes: I'd rather have the Fugitive Prince and the Alchemist be at least 15 or 16, and not have an age gap of more than 5 years or so if one is under 20. I would also ask that characters not react to the student mage disguised as a girl (or anyone, really, but he seems the most likely target) in transphobia-reminiscent ways.  Additionally, my “major character permadeath” dnw here refers to characters named in the tag, and a story with romance as the main plot is absolutely acceptable in the case of the Prince and the Alchemist.

For any of these prompts I’d be super down for worldbuilding work and all that that entails.

 Superheroes—for the kids with the secret identities, do they know each other as their civilian selves? As their cape selves? Both? Do they like each other, dislike each other, is this a rivalry thing… with stories that have this dynamic, I always end up spending half my time cackling internally and the other half of the time going children no when they’re friends as civilians and enemies in masks, but honestly I’d be here for any dynamic they could have. For the child hero and concerned nemesis, I absolutely adore the dynamic of the kid going “I’m here to defeat you!” and the villain being like “…okay I may be a criminal and a villain but you are a literal child what are you doing where are your parents,” and it going from there.

 Student Mage & Mentor—ngl this is at least 85% inspired by all the “girl disguises herself as boy to become warrior” books I read as a kid, and I always wanted a gender-flipped version—so tell me! Why is he disguised as a girl? Does his mentor know? If she does, is she actively helping him, or begrudgingly accepting, or something else? Anything around this would be great, and ruse/identity reveals are always delicious if you want something more specific as a prompt.  Also, if you want to introduce a romance element for the student here, I have some prompts for that here.  Absolutely not necessary, of course, but if that’s where you want to go I’m here for it.

 Archmage & Apprentice—love me some mentorship dynamics. Tell me about who these people are, what their world is like… what does it mean to be an archmage?  Is the student on their way to becoming an archmage too, or are they not quite at that kind of level?  How does their magic work; is this a hard magic system or a soft one?

 Consummate Duelist & Second—is there some deeper reason our duelist won’t stop dueling with people?  Are they dueling with swords, or guns, or maybe magic?  Where do they live, and how does their society think about and relate to dueling—is it common? Uncommon?  State-sanctioned, or illegal, or technically illegal but no one would ever enforce that?

 Mercenary & Street Kid—other things I’m a sucker for include grumpy reluctant mentor/parental figures who don’t want a kid, they don’t, but this one has attached to them and they can’t get rid of them—so obviously they can’t just not take care of them.  Does the kid give the merc a brighter outlook on life? Prompt them to change the way they’re living their life?

 Fugitive Prince/Exiled Alchemist—why is the prince a fugitive?  Is it for some crime he’s done, or because of political turmoil, or something else? And the alchemist—are they exiled from the prince’s country, or from a different country, and how come they’ve been exiled?  How do these two meet; how to they clash or get on with each other?

 Princess Heir—what are the political reasons that led to her exile? What world is she in—is this medieval, pre-medieval, renaissance, any of the above but in an alternate world, any of the above but with magic, or maybe she’s a modern princess from a modern country—what does her exile look like?  Does she want to go home, is she trying to get back home—who’s in charge while she’s off being exiled?

   ---

   幻影ヲ駆ケル太陽 il sole penetra le illusioni | Day Break Illusion  

Tags

·        Etia Visconti (Day Break Illusion)

·        Ariel Valtiel Westcott (Day Break Illusion)

·        Group: Etia Visconti & Ariel Valtiel Westcott (Day Break Illusion)

·        Fanfic: 1 x 10000-Word Fic

·        Fanart: 1 x 10-Page Comic

 No fandom-specific dnws, but to be clear I’m perfectly open to an Ariel/Etia romance, as long as it’s not the main plot of whatever you write. Additionally, deaths of Daemonia characters—canonical or original—are perfectly fine, even if they’re major characters in the story you write.  Canon-typical violence etc is also acceptable.

 These two don’t have much backstory given in canon—I’d love something exploring one or both of their characters!  How did they become Tarot card holders; what was it like when they began; how about when Akari’s mom held the Sun?

I'm also fascinated by the restrictions they have on them, and how it's not totally clear how much of it is their desires and how much of it is imposed on them by the Leguzario. They're very powerful—especially together—and while the Leguzario hold the key they don't seem too keen on using their powers even when they're unlocked; I'd love something exploring that. Alternately, again, just anything exploring their lives—maybe about how long have they been running this chapter of Sefiro Fiore, maybe anything else.

  ---   

Mother of Learning - nobody103  

Tags

·        Raynie (Mother of Learning)

·        Neoluma-Manu Iljatir (Mother of Learning)

·        Group: Kirielle Kazinski & Zorian Kazinski (Mother of Learning)

·        Group: Kirielle Kazinski & Nochka Sashal (Mother of Learning)

·        Kirielle Kazinski (Mother of Learning)

·        Fanfic: 1 x 10000-Word Fic

·        Fanart: 1 x 10-Page Comic

 fandom-specific dnw: romantic and/or sexual Zach/Zorian; physical parental abuse within the Kazinski family; significant exaggeration of canonical emotional neglect/abuse/general family dysfunction; Raynie or her tribe being written as being wholly in the right and the other side wholly in the wrong.  Please consider my “unrequested full-setting aus” dnw from the general section to be adjusted to “mundane aus” for this fandom. If you change who the time travelers are, please either do not address the end of the time loop or let them escape from it—escaping as Zorian does, and in so doing killing the original, is okay.

 If you want to write an AU, you can consider any AU requested for AUEx for Mother of Learning, as listed here, to be requested in this exchange as well (although the character requests do not perfectly line up) as long as it isn’t purely mundane.

 Raynie—I love Raynie, and I love the little glimpses we get into her character and her past in canon!

For her I was thinking maybe something after the invasion, maybe her going home again.  I’d love to see a reconciliation between her and her tribe, and a settling of the issues and problems that led to her being sent away.

If I’ve got my timeline right, her brother should be old enough to have reasonable interactions with; I’d really enjoy something dealing with the tension between them, letting them reconcile and build a better sibling relationship.

Alternatively, if we’re going for pre-canon, I’d really enjoy something dealing with her initial arrival in Cyoria and befriending Kiana.

 Neolu—If we’re working within the time loop, then maybe something from before Zorian got looped in—maybe one of the iterations where Zach and Neolu just went off across the country having fun the whole month? Otherwise, there could be something about her life pre-loop and what led her to come to Cyoria, or after the invasion—what does she do then?

 Kirielle et al—I’ve written far too many words in prompts about Kirielle already; if you want to see me going off about her, please see the Mother of Learning section of my Gen Freeform Ex letter here.  If you don’t want to click through, though, here’s a bit of things.  For Kirielle and Nochka, they’re adorable and I’d love a further development of their friendship, especially getting to see it grow and develop over the months and years after the invasion.  For Kirielle and Zorian, I love their dynamic!  And again here I’d really enjoy seeing their relationship developing in real time, rather than a constantly looping world.  I think it would be great to see either of them defending the other to their parents—and maybe Zorian ends up with custody of Kiri, there’s definitely things to explore there.

For Kirielle by herself, I’d love some sort of character study—what does she do now that the time loop is over?  She’s growing up into a war; will she be a mage?  An artist?  Something else?  Alternatively—what if she got pulled into the loop; what would it be like to grow older while still looking nine?

  ---

  Tortall - Tamora Pierce  

Tags

·        Group: Varice Kingsford & Stiloit Tasikhe (Tortall)

·        Stiloit Tasikhe (Tortall)

·        Varice Kingsford (Tortall)

·        Fanfic: 1 x 10000-Word Fic

·        Fanart: 1 x 10-Page Comic

 No strict fandom-specific dnws here, though I would rather not see a Stiloit/Varice ship if we’re doing a story set in the time of Tempests and Slaughter.

 For Varice—kitchen magic!  How does that work?  What does she do, exactly, to food that changes it/the process of creating it? Is it commonly looked down upon, or is it unusual that Varice’s family doesn’t really want her to pursue it? What did her life look like before; why did she go to mage school?  And what happens later—we all know that our lovely wholesome trio is going to fall apart; how does that happen, and why does she stay?

 As for Stiloit, and him together with Varice—he seems so… calm, and level-headed, especially when compared with Ozorne who is not.  And he clearly finds Varice interesting, and her company valuable.  So maybe tell me something about that—what does he think of her?  She of him?  What if, perhaps, he didn’t die when he does?

Honestly, one of the biggest AU ideas I have/want to see for Tempests and Slaughter is overall—what if Stiloit lived?  Because, given how Ozorne turns out—given how it all goes—I feel like that has the potential for a massive ripple effect on the timeline.  Or maybe tell me how his life was pre-canon!

  ---

  Hanging Out with a Gamer Girl (Manga)  

Tags

·        Group: Amakawa Miruku & Terazaki Kaoru (HOwaGG)

·        Group: Amakawa Miruku & Ousaka Nanami & Terazaki Kaoru (HOwaGG)

·        Group: Amakawa Miruku & Ousaka Nanami (HOwaGG)

·        Group: Terazaki Kaoru & Ousaka Shouko (HOwaGG)

·        Group: Terazaki Kaoru & Ousaka Nanami (HOwaGG)

·        Fanfic: 1 x 10000-Word Fic

·        Fanart: 1 x 10-Page Comic

 fandom-specific dnw: sexualization of Kaoru's crossdressing; full realization of Kaoru's fears re:Nanami's dad.

Also, this isn’t strictly prohibited I suppose? But I’d really rather prefer that relationships nominated as platonic remain platonic, except where otherwise indicated (e.g. certain aus).

For this request, my “setting aus” dnw is completely waived; if you want some ideas check out my AUEx letter.  Please consider any identity headcanon laid out in my AUEx letter to be requested for this exchange as well.

 So! We now have three gamer kids with cute friendships instead of just two—tell me about them!  Tell me about just Kaoru and Nanami, or tell me about how Miruku fits into their dynamic, how it changes—how is it for Nanami, having more than one real-world friend her own age who likes her for who she is?

 As for Kaoru & Shouko—I love how mom-like Shouko feels around Kaoru, and I’d love a deeper look into their dynamic. Half of me thinks she already knows or at least suspects that “Kaori” isn’t really a girl, or at least isn’t a cis girl, but I rather suspect she’d just not say anything, at least for the time being—“Kaori” is her daughter’s only friend, after all, and has been pulling Nanami out of her shell, and she wouldn’t want to disturb that.

[puddingcatbeans]

fic rec days; hq edition.

i’m terrible at these things bc i kind of want to just slap all almost-300 of my ao3 bookmarks here but that’s cheating. i also feel like i haven’t read hq fics in so long omg, gotta rectify that. meanwhile, i hope you enjoy these works if you haven’t read them already, and if you have, i hope you let the writers know! 

under the cut, in no particular order, some hq fics i definitely rec!!

It’s Always You by @icespyders | bokuaka, rated g, college au

Akaashi meets a stranger at the school library. And then meets him again. (But it's only a coincidence.) And again. (But that's a coincidence, too. It has to be.) But as their paths keep crossing in the strangest ways, Akaashi has to wonder if it could mean something more. And, more importantly, if he wants it to.

// everyone knows i’m a sucker for college AUs but this 14k+ journey of wonderful characterization, the dumb stressfulness of college life and small pockets of optimism before you have to face the real world, the deliciously slow burn of their relationship... i read this in one go, and you should, too.

the way you look at me by ThinkingCAPSLOCK / @mocaw | bokuaka, rated T, pro volleyball au

Bokuto sees him every day, every commute, at the final train. The stranger he only knows as Train Guy. Wrapped in coats, mystery, and distance - that is, until Bokuto breaks their familiar silence. He struggles with the hardest part of befriending someone he thinks he already knows: taking a step back to reevaluate all his assumptions. He finds the easiest part is getting to learn about Train Guy all over again.

// the characterisation is!! so!! good!! not yet completed but every chapter has me curious about more development. i love the insight to bokuto as a person, as someone independent and surrounded with friends and teammates, and seeing akaashi through bokuto’s eyes is such a quiet, poetic thing.

another sunny day by @museicaliteacup | fukurodani, gen, canon-verse

Fukurodani loses at Nationals. No one on the team handles it very well. Konoha is no exception.

// i think this is one of the first fics that made me fall in love with the owl team. it’s sad, it’s angst, but the undeniable feeling of team togetherness is so warm. this will always be one of those fics i keep thinking back to, just because it impacted me so emotionally the first time i read it.

preferably forever by @risquetendencies | bokuaka, explicit, established relationship

Bokuto is more than a little excited when, breaking from their usual traditions, he and Akaashi go away on vacation for Christmas. It's sure to be relaxing, but then there's also the Christmas presents. Even though he's sure he's bought the best gift, he can't help but wonder what he might be getting in return.

// i’m always down for domesticity between these two but this fic made me tear up more than once, but in all the right ways. the characterisation makes me smile, bokuto is so vivid, their interactions with each other so natural i can’t help be jealous, just a little. this was such a joy to read, i’m sure you’ll fall in love, too.

Character Development by @silvercistern | bokuaka, rated T, fake relationship au

"That’s some kinda gratitude. I get the ideal guy to take you to prom, and you act like he's not even here? What happened to my painfully polite little brother?" "I doubt I’d let him take me to the hospital if I were bleeding to death."

Keiji needs a date. Bokuto needs dating lessons. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

// i’ve seen everyone rec this but i just had to bc holy shit i had a riot reading this. akaashi’s characterisation is so interesting? like i was deeply invested from the first few paragraphs, i’ve never wanted to root for someone as much as i wanted to smack them on the head. i love ensemble cast making cameos, and watching bokuto and akaashi slowly grow together in one of the best fic tropes is so. much. fun.

Connected by Tsucchi | ennotana, mature, space au

"It wasn't supposed to happen to him. He wasn't supposed to be Connected to anyone, nevermind this jerk he wanted nothing more to do with. He was supposed to work for his pardon, alone, and then start over - have a normal, peaceful life, with no one inexplicably tied to his fate."

Karasuno Operations always had unconventional methods, but this special tactics unit they've formed beat the rest. The ship full of eccentrics was intended to take on minor covert missions around the star system in the military's place, but instead they got caught up in grander schemes they never expected. And stuck in the middle are two men who don't see eye to eye, bound by a natural phenomena and forced to work together.

// this author singlehandedly converted me to this ship?? but seriously, this fic has been an emotional rollercoaster. the team feels is still there, the banter, the action and excitement, the character development and relationship growth, the mystery and slowly revealed character roles, and the world-building. holy shit the world-building. i’m still in awe, tbh.

smells like air salonpas by psidn | karasuno first years, rated T, canon-compliant

The Karasuno first years develop some new hobbies and strengthen their friendships.

// i loooove fics starring the karasuno first years friendship. and this fic does it in such a charming, fun way. i love the support that are shown in different ways, the dumb dweebness that comes with teenagerdom, the colourful days spent with these friends, and natsu appears? what more could you want.

it’s like the hunger games, but better | seijoh, gen, paintball

“Kindaichi,” Hanamaki laughs, striding across the room to pull him into a tight hug. “Kindaichi Yutaro you son of a bitch, I thought you were dead.” Kindaichi blinks, glancing to his left to see Kunimi - sitting crossed legged on a table next to a very sweaty looking Watari - looking just as confused as he feels. “Has— Has everyone lost their minds? It’s just a game of paintball.” “Just a game of paintball?” Hanamaki parrots, eyes widening as he takes another step forwards until they’re standing practically nose to nose. “Kindaichi, Kindaichi, my poor naive Kindaichi. This is more than just a game.” Kindaichi frowns. “It...is?” “Kindaichi,” Oikawa says sharply, shoving Hanamaki out of the way so he can grasp Kindaichi tightly by the shoulders. “This is a matter of life or death.” “I mean, I don’t think it’s really tha—” “Life or death,” Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi say loudly in unison.

// if you somehow haven’t read this yet, go read it immediately. especially if you’re having a bad day. i lost count how many times i’ve read this, but every single time i burst out laughing so hard it takes me a second to remember how to breathe. the memes. the shenanigans. the seijoh gang. the drama queens. this fic is fucking gold, i tell you.

i’m a house with no windows, you’re the flowers on the front porch by miracleboysatori / @tendouaf | ushiten, explicit, growing up together

Wakatoshi likes absolutes. He likes the idea of something being unchangeable, immovable, because he doesn’t have to worry needlessly about it. He can focus his energy on other, more important things. And among the absolutes he feels in his life, his bond with Satori is one of them. (aka: a fic focusing on ushiten's development from childhood through adulthood that no one really asked for but I felt an extremely strong urge to write anyway)

// i really, really love the characterisation of ushijima and tendou, and then the rest of the shiratorizawa team. i’m so very weak for childhood friends, and this fic follows them growing up together and into each other, and it warms my heart how far they’ve come and how far they can still go.

Put All Your Fears to Bed by chromyrose / @zahhaked | bokuaka, rated T, fluff without plot

Sometimes Bokuto needs solid reassurance; Akaashi is always willing to give him that and more.

// i find myself revisiting this fic sometimes, just because of how soft and warm and, idk, safe? the fic feels to me. bokuto’s mental state etc is such an important thing to me, and i love how these two are portrayed here, the closeness, the comfort. 

Under the Stars by writinghomunculus / @hanavmaki | kyouhaba, rated g

Hands dance along his back, and Kyoutani feels his skin catch on fire.

// this fic is lovely in the writing style itself, the snapshot moments between them, and the vivid sensory details. i’m personally weak to small touches of physical intimacy, and this fic paints kyoutani in such a gentle way, it really soothes my heart, because i know that everything will be okay.

myth au (series) by ilgaksu | levyaku, bokuaka, kuroken, rated T

// these are hauntingly poetic retellings of greek myths, starring our volleyfaves, and each one breaks my heart over twice. i’m in love with the writing, and even though greek myths don’t usually end well, the heartache is worth every word.

The Feeling in Our Chests by kiyala | kuroken, rated g, established relationship

Kuroo is in love. Luckily for him, Kenma is too.

// look at these two, being all gross and in love. i love how absolutely easy it is for them, the casual intimacy, the familiarity. this fic was so sweet, it was like breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly after a long day.

Purcell by carriecmoney / @carriecmoney | iwaoi, rated T, college au

Tooru's got a busy semester lined up, so he shouldn't have time to worry about one irritating classmate following him around. And yet...

// the banter and frankly, ridiculous sexual tension between iwaizumi and oikawa here is hilarious. i love watching them bicker, and this author’s characterisation of them is always on point and highly enjoyable. i’ve reread this series so many times, and each time i find myself with a smile on my face. what are you waiting for?

tell me i’m lying by seconddaysea / @heroicsx | kagehina, gen

// this fic explores genderfluild kageyama in such a sweet, gentle way, i swear i was brought to tears. i love how supportive and sunshine hinata still is, how they fumble, but it’s okay. he’ll be alright. they’ll be alright.

salt in the wound by celestialfics / @tadachans | tsukkiyama, rated T

Tadashi’s always been drawn to traditionally feminine things, but he doesn’t think that means he’s a girl. He certainly doesn’t feel like he’s a boy, either, but to be something entirely different and new is a bit scary and hard to handle.

// this fic explores nonbinary yamaguchi and i love how strong yamaguchi is. he grows into himself. and his friendship with hinata is just great, and i love the portrayal of his and tsukki’s relationship. this fic both made me cry and made me laugh, and i’m sure you’ll enjoy it, too.

The Vanishing Castle by SilentNorth | bokuaka, rated g, howl’s moving castle au

Akaashi tells himself that he's perfectly content with his life. And he is. Probably. But somehow he attracts the attention of some sorcerers. Not his fault. And winds up cursed. Also not his fault. And finds himself in the middle of a war he has no business being part of. What exactly did he do to deserve this again? In order to go back to any sort of normalcy, Akaashi will have to turn to magic if he's to have any hope of breaking this curse. And the Vanishing Castle is one place to start.

// if you’re a fan of howl’s moving castle, you’ll fall in love with the rich worldbuilding and romance of magic in this fic. akaashi’s stubborn nature and his quiet strength is so prominent here, bokuto is as enigmatic and captivating as usual, and it’s just so easy to lose yourself in this au. it’s just breathtaking, honestly.

This Floating World by lowermiddlechild / @bicyclestandard | daisuga and more, explicit, modern fantasy au

Being a Dream Doctor isn't the easiest job Suga's ever had but after six years, he usually knows what to expect. That is until the day comes when he lands in a dream, ready to fight off nightmares, only to be shoved out of it a moment later. With one of his closest friends, Oikawa, avoiding him and his second closest friend, Kenma, avoiding his own problems, it looks like it'll be up Suga to figure out what exactly is going on.

// i’m a little behind on this fic but nevertheless it never fails to excite me when i see an update. the whole cast is there, the character interactions are refreshing, the magic is unsettling yet fascinating, the worldbuilding is definitely intriguing. i’m always on the edge of my seat wondering, what’s next?

... i’m gonna stop there for now, but know that the hq fandom produces some insanely great works. pls let your fave authors know you love them! thanks for sticking through with my babbling. ‘til next time, i guess!

[meandmyechoes]

The more I think about my first romance novel, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quin tress, but I also just, can't?

I mean, yes. It's very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. And it's all very bisexual and fantastical of me. But I also, don't really see it in that 'omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them' sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don't really, actively 'ship' it — like the way I have the ability to with Rhayme or Latts (since it's the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quin tress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask if this has to do with my personal view on relationships. Does this tie back to how I say the hottest thing a heterosexual couple can do is fuck (and the spiritual experience is emphasized with a same-sex partner)? - anyway, ace brain (probably) speaking.

I know the plot leaves little room for 'the future' and fed me well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don't think their relationship is 'weak', but it's very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can't really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that's it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It's just… I don't really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it's much more a physical attraction thing that I don't really have personal experience with.

I don't know if quin tress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I'm quite disappointed Ventress wasn't doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it's deliciously written, there's not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It's a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she's more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she's gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. ans surprise! Our "assassination" plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I've read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the convention to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the "Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos". Now, I can't dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there's no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic is really tinted by the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie. Lucas's foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there's always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you're willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that's a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

So Mr. Partner has finished the book too. He didn't offer particular insights, but we discussed briefly the overall pace and bits of characterization. He did made me rolled with laughter describing Vos through a childish, tropey lens. Regarding the topic of this documentation - the quin tress relationship, I've been more or less really enjoying it as a guilty pleasure. I don't read romance novels at all, and this is tooth-rotting sweet angst. 

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

It's very nostalgic to indulge in a heterosexual relationship, and pair it up with taylor swift songs. If I have a boyfriend as devoted as Vos, I'd fall one hundred percent. And if I'm faced with an bombshell like Ventress, I would not be able to have any agency I swear. Either way, in my headcanon, Ventress is happily away on adventures with Lassa :3

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quin tress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obitine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leaves him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream. I skipped to translating the last two chapters and all the way I was just fuming at how stupid it was. There are difficult technical terms but I really enjoy voicing the characters. But it just takes away bit of that formality and Shakespearean tragic factor having them talk in my native tongue???? haha

Prelude: [12th March 22:37]

since dark disciple heteronormatively gave Rhayme and Ventress boyfriends, I'm gonna go ahead and sign the charter that says "all sw characters are bi"

which got me thinking, I insist that Quinlan and Ventress must fuck (and I insist they did, with the implication from when Quinlan "had seen her by starlight, just her"), but why didn't I think that way with Rhayme and her? Maybe it's because the story never pushed me there. I'd wish it indeed have more to do with I'm aspec than internalized homophobia (that I look down on everyone), but I also think, fucking is literally the hottest thing a heterosexual relationship can do? Every selling point, either be appearance or intellect, leads up to the ultimate goal of reproduction?

But oh my god, space lesbians, beating up pirates, sharing a wine, teasing hairs and finger tips. That's so goddamn romantic

[edit: i know that is an extremely skewered and unfair view, but i’ve met maybe, one, boy on my intellectual level. it’s a game of probability ok]

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Order, I still have to do more reading on it to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin. Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj. Ventress and Quinlan. Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quin tress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful thing is they chose each other (I guess).

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

Aside, the elephant was I’ve never been in a relationship or felt physically attracted to any person in my life. I suppose that’s a reason it took some time for me to really buy into them more than friends. I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). But what really frustrates me, not that I couldn’t invest into two paper people’s love story, but was why my body is governed by hormones so bad. I could say things I wouldn’t dare depending on the day of the month. I have to be honest, I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes another contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[lostinthewinterwood]

Fandom 5k 2020

Showing up over a week late to the party.

Hey friend! So. Uh. About that letter…

Well, if you’re already on your way, that’s great!  Feel free to ignore this letter completely.  It is, after all, quite late.  If, however, you are like me and haven’t started yet, and you’re wanting a little something more for inspiration, here’s… something, at least. Most of this is in my signup, but there’s a bit extra here.

Good luck!

 General DNW

Rape/non/dub-con; non-canonical major character death; heavy angst; hurt no comfort; graphic depictions of deliberate and methodical self-harm*; graphic depictions of suicide; anything E rated; smut; gore; heavy gender dysphoria; grimdark; complete downer endings; character bashing; incest; cringe comedy; a/b/o; mpreg; unrequested full setting AUs (canon-divergence is fine); graphic eye trauma; graphic and/or permanent hand trauma (unless the setting can provide a more-or-less fully functional prosthetic or equivalent); issuefic; unrequested identity headcanons; a focus on unrequested romantic relationships.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. however, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

  General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun, especially as a fix-it.  I have a general preference for Peggy Sue style (aka, an older character getting put back in their younger body at an earlier point in the timeline) over the character’s physical body stepping back in time, but either one is good.

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

  Fandom-Specific Things

 Original Works

Adolescent Supervillain with a Secret Identity & Adolescent Superhero with a Secret Identity

Child Superhero & Their Concerned Supervillain Nemesis

Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & His Older Female Mentor

Priestess Of A Dying Sun & Goddess Of Endless Night

Prophesied Hero & Prophesied Dark Lord

Prince/Prince of Enemy Country He’s Met on the Battlefield More Than Once

- Action/Adventure

- Character Development

- Interpersonal Drama

- Science Fiction

- Fantasy

- Hurt/Comfort

- Worldbuilding

 Fandom-specific DNW: neopronouns, random pronoun changes within a PoV (changing because of disguise purposes is fine, great even; I have a lot of trouble with characters who go by multiple pronouns within one PoV basically at random)

 Superheroes—for the kids with the secret identities, do they know each other as their civilian selves? As their cape selves? Both? Do they like each other, dislike each other, is this a rivalry thing… with stories that have this dynamic, I always end up spending half my time cackling internally and the other half of the time going children no when they’re friends as civilians and enemies in masks, but honestly I’d be here for any dynamic they could have. For the child hero and concerned nemesis, I absolutely adore the dynamic of the kid going “I’m here to defeat you!” and the villain being like “…okay I may be a criminal and a villain but you are a literal child what are you doing where are your parents,” and it going from there.

Student Mage & Mentor—ngl this is at least 85% inspired by all the “girl disguises herself as boy to become warrior” books I read as a kid, and I always wanted a gender-flipped version—so tell me! Why is he disguised as a girl? Does his mentor know? If she does, is she actively helping him, or begrudgingly accepting, or something else? Anything around this would be great, and ruse/identity reveals are always delicious if you want something more specific as a prompt.

Priestess & Goddess—I really like the idea of this; it has a very melancholic feel to it, like the end of an age, and I would love worldbuilding this place that allows this relationship, or a dual character study, or, of course, both.

Prophesied Hero & Dark Lord—I love explorations of fate and prophecy, especially in regards to people who are supposedly destined for roles they may or may not want—do the hero and dark lord know each other before the prophecy kicks off? How do they feel about their respective roles, and about each other? Is this a story where you can break from your role, or can you not fight fate? Are you destined to fulfil the prophecy, even if you try to defy it? I have no opinions on the gender of these characters—ignore the gender implications of the tag if you want to.

Prince/Prince—I’m picturing something with delicious snarky banter between the two princes. I’d love to see something with, like, a grudging mutual respect turning into something where they like each other and then they go and fall in love and go “oh… well, fuck,” and have to sort it out from there.

  The Dragon Prince

Aaravos

Claudia

Soren

- Character Development

- Worldbuilding

- Fantasy

- Fix-it fic

 Fandom-specific DNW: Aaravos/Viren, at all.

 This show is wonderful and heartbreaking and I adore it.

Claudia, Soren—I love them and am somewhat heartbroken over their choices this past season; I’d love any sort of character study focusing on them or their relationship to each other (and their dad, though I’d rather Viren not take the spotlight in any fic you write). After the show or during it, or something pre-canon—all of those are great. I’d definitely be down for things exploring the fallout of season three and the choices they made there, especially at the end.

Aaravos—I’m fascinated even as I somewhat dislike him. For him, I’d love to see something pre-canon—why did he get locked up in that mirror? What was the world like, when that happened? He’s our narrator at the beginning—what’s up with that? If you want to keep it more canon-era, I’d love a look into his head during the events that go down; what’s his angle on all of this? Is it just to free himself, or does he have broader plans? How much is he lying in all of this? For him, I’d be happy to get an outsider PoV or in-universe meta about him, especially on what he was before he got locked up—he’s in books! Clearly he wasn’t totally low profile back in the day.

  The Court Jester

Princess Gwendolyn/Sir Griswold

Hubert Hawkins/Maid Jean

Hubert Hawkins & Giacomo

Hubert Hawkins

- Character Development

- Getting Together

- Humor

 Fandom-specific DNW: Gwendolyn/Griswold relationship that isn’t reciprocal

 Okay, so, this has been a favorite movie of mine since I was like ten lol. I love it and its comedy and its characters and like… I mean. Look at my Thing for secret identity nonsense; it shouldn’t be hard to see the appeal here.

Gwendolyn/Griswold—so, Griselda tells Gwendolyn that she’ll marry for love. Now we all know that she doesn’t get to marry her jester; but who’s to say that she doesn’t end up marrying for love anyway? After all there’s no real other reason to pair her up with Griswold in the end; certainly there’s no longer a political advantage to be gained by doing so.

Hawkins/Jean—I like their dynamic, their mutual respect for each other’s skills and abilities, how they know each other and rely on each other and idk man I just want More.

Hawkins & Giacomo—this is a ridiculous prompt, in that they spend all of five minutes together before Giacomo gets knocked out (or is it killed? Not clear tbh) and disappears from the movie. I mostly think it would be really funny if somehow they had to drag Giacomo along? And then he’s trying to complete his original mission, but he and Hawkins have to pretend to be the same person, for Reasons, and… anyway I just think this would be very funny.

Hawkins—just give me anything about him; I’d be here for just about anything tbh, he’s great.  If you want something more specific, maybe tell me about his past, how he came to be part of the Black Fox’s group, or his childhood before that.

  現実もたまには嘘をつく | Genjitsu mo Tama ni wa Uso wo Tsuku | Sometimes Reality Tells Lies Too (Manga)

Terazaki Kaoru & Ousaka Shouko

Terazaki Kaoru & Ousaka Nanami & Takekawa Izumi

Terazaki Kaoru & Ousaka Nanami

Ousaka Nanami & Ousaka Shouko & Ousaka Toshio

- Character Development

- AU – Genre Shift

- Fluff

- Slice of Life

 Fandom-specific DNW: sexualization of Kaoru’s crossdressing, romance between Kaoru and Nanami beyond light shiptease à la canon, full justification of Kaoru’s fears re: Nanami’s dad

 I love these kids and their adorable friendship and character development. Honestly, anything you can give me with either of them I’ll probably treasure, since as far as I can tell this fandom is basically nonexistent. Some of my feelings here are just wordless warm fuzzy feelings but I will Try to give prompts.

So, for more specific ideas:

Kaoru & Shouko—I love how mom-like Shouko feels around Kaoru, and I’d love a deeper look into their dynamic. Half of me thinks she already knows or at least suspects that “Kaori” isn’t really a girl, or at least isn’t a cis girl, but I rather suspect she’d just not say anything, at least for the time being—“Kaori” is her daughter’s only friend, after all, and has been pulling Nanami out of her shell, and she wouldn’t want to disturb that.

Kaoru & Nanami & Izumi—these three are a lot of fun together, I’d love any sort of shenanigans with them, the more ridiculous the better.

Kaoru & Nanami—look they’re just. adorable. Anything exploring that friendship I am here for.

Ousaka family—I really like their dynamic. I’d be here for anything exploring it, really, including a look into Nanami’s backstory—it seems she wasn’t always as much of a shut-in as she is at the start, but there’s pain there too—what happened? I’d also find it quite funny if her parents have actually figured out Kaoru’s secret but aren’t going to let on to the kids just yet.

General things I’d be into seeing explored in anything with the relevant characters: Nanami’s past, Kaoru’s past/family/home life—he seems awfully lonely at times, do these kids… go to school? I kinda have the impression that Nanami doesn’t, but what do you think?, their mutual obsession with Peten-Chan

If you want to do a setting AU here I’d be down for that, as long as you keep the characters and their dynamics and don’t make it too dark.

  Thank you so much for writing for me and good luck with your writing!!