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#but i would sure rather my birthday is october 28th than the day i was actually born. so for all intents and purposes that is my special day

retrievablememories · 3 years

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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.

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

Two Birds [Part One]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

Written for Maribat March Day 14 - Dead

Nine-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng peeked around the legs of her Grandma Gina to look up at the circus tent. Framed by the setting sun, it looked grand and magnificent, but Marinette still would rather have stayed at home. "We'll be staying here?"

"Not inside the circus tent, silly. There are trailers around back that the performers sleep in. That's where we'll be staying."

Marinette scuffed her shoes against the ground, watching the dust kick up. "Why couldn't we just stay at home?"

"We have to experience new things, Marinette - that's what makes life worth living when you're old like me."

"I don't want to try new things and I don't want to stay with strangers. I just want to stay at home."

"It's only three days, sweetheart. Just trust me. You'll have fun."

Marinette pouted but nodded anyway. "Fine." Marinette loved her Grandma Gina, who brought her gifts from all around the world and told her stories of her travels. However, Marinette didn't like when her parents made Gina babysit. Gina refused to babysit Marinette at home and instead took Marinette on her travels with her. Marinette didn't like traveling, especially when it meant she had to stay with strangers. She much preferred her own bed to the bed of a stranger.

"Gina Dupain!" exclaimed a smiling man, walking out of the circus tent.

"Walter Haly! How are things in the circus business?"

"Worse without you, my lovely Gina. Please tell me you'll perform while you're staying with us."

Gina smiled but shook her head. "I'm too old for the trapeze, Walter. But maybe I can convince this little one to try it out." Gina pushed Marinette out in front of her.

"Oh! Who is this?"

"My granddaughter, Marinette."

Haly knelt down to get to Marinette's height. "How old are you, Marinette?"

Marinette stared down at her shoes, scuffed up brown with dust. "I'm nine years old."

"Do you want to try out the trapeze?"

Marinette vigorously shook her head. "I'm scared of heights."

"Well, we'll see about that. A lot can change in three days." Haly got up and led Marinette and Grandma Gina around behind the tent to the trailers.

Marinette knew that if her mother was there, she would be scolded for being rude, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want to stay at the circus. She wanted to stay in her room, play Ultra Mecha Strike with Kim, and sneak cookies from the bakery when Gina wasn't looking.

Haly pointed to a baby-blue colored trailer. "Gina, you'll be staying on Clarise's couch - you remember Clarise, right."

Grandma Gina nodded. "Clarise was the redhead, right? The sword-swallower?"

"That's the one. Now, her couch only has room for one, so Marinette will be staying with the Graysons. They have a son - Richard - who's her age." Haly pointed out a trailer painted with green and yellow stripes.

Marinette grabbed onto Gina's hand. "I want to stay with you, Grandma Gina."

Gina shook her head. "You have to stay with the Graysons. But don't worry sweetheart, you'll have a lot of fun."

Marinette sighed and dragged her feet as she walked to the trailer. Of all the weekend that her parents left town to go to a pastry exhibition, it had to be the weekend that the circus that Grandma Gina once performed at was in town. Marinette knocked twice on the door and waited for it to open. A pretty woman with dark hair and kind eyes opened up the door and started speaking in perfect French. "Oh, hello! You must be little Marinette."

"Yes ma'am," Marinette mumbled.

"Come inside sweetheart." The woman led Marinette into the trailer. It was cramped and messy, but obviously well-loved. The walls were painted periwinkle and the curtains covering the window were orange with blue butterflies. "You don't have to call me ma'am, it makes me feel old. I'm Mary, and this is my husband John."

John was sitting on the couch, mending a tear in a crimson red leotard. "Hello, Marinette. Welcome to Haly's Circus."

"Hi."

Mary started leading Marinette to a door. "This is our son Dick's room, where you'll be sleeping. We set up an air mattress on the floor. You can drop your backpack off in there. Dick will be showing you tomorrow, keeping you out of trouble."

"Okay."

Dick was sitting on the bed when Marinette walked into the room, reading a comic book. Marinette waved shyly, "Hello, I'm Marinette."

"I'm Dick, Dick Grayson."

"Which comic book is that?" asked Marinette, leaning forward to get a good look at the title.

"It's an American comic book about this superhero named Ant-Man. He can shrink super small or grow super huge. He's really cool."

"Could I read it?" asked Marinette.

"Sure. I even have the first one on my bookshelf. I have comic books for nearly all of the Marvel superheroes." As Marinette read, Dick explained the backstories of all of his favorite superheroes and why he owned so many of the comics. "I want to be a superhero someday. If I were a superhero, I would want to be able to fly for real, not just on the trapeze.

Just then, Marinette noticed a poster up on the wall. Visit Haly's Circus to watch the amazing Flying Grayson trapeze family. On the poster were three silhouettes of trapeze artists. "That's you on the poster, isn't it?"

"Yep. I've been doing trapeze since I was seven, and I'm ten now, so that's three whole years. I only got to start performing last month, though." Dick hopped off of his bed and sat down on the air mattress, facing Marinette. "While you're here, are you gonna learn how to do trapeze?"

Marinette shook her head. "I can't. It's too scary."

"But trapeze isn't even scary," protested Dick.

"Maybe not for you, but you do it all the time. I've never done it before and I'm scared of heights."

"Hmm. How about, if you try out the trapeze, I'll do something that scares me, too."

"What would you do?"

Dick stopped to think it over, his face scrunched up in a way that Marinette found both cute and worrisome, given that he was thinking over ways to get her to face her greatest fear of all time. "I know! If you learn trapeze, I'll learn to swim."

"No way! Swimming is way easier than trapeze."

"Not for me!" said Dick indignantly. "I've never been able to swim. But I'll learn how if you learn how to do trapeze."

"I don't know..." Dick was so enthusiastic about the plan that Marinette wanted to say yes, yet there was a lingering fear that held her back.

"Trust me, Marinette. In three days you'll be flying like a bird, and I'll be swimming like a fish."

"Oh, alright. I'll try it."

"Great! Now, I still have a question for you: if you could have any power, what would it be."

"Invisibility," decided Marinette, "That way when I'm late to school, I can slip into the classroom without my teacher noticing."

"Good choice. Now it's your turn to ask a question."

Dick and Marinette stayed up late that night, reading comics and asking each other questions. By morning, Marinette knew that Dick's favorite color was blue, his favorite cookie was chocolate with chocolate chips, his favorite comic book hero was Hawkeye (because he doesn't have any powers, but still manages to be a superhero), and his favorite circus animal performer was Zitka the Elephant. Dick was nine months older than Marinette, his birthday being October 2nd as opposed to her July 28th birthday.

"It's time to teach you how to do trapeze!" announced Dick as soon as breakfast was over.

"We offered to watch over you today while Gina catches up with her friends," explained Mary. "Now, I know that you're afraid of heights, and I'm not going to force you to do anything that you don't want, but I think it would be a good experience to try trapeze. I promise you, it's completely safe."

"I'll try it."

Dick grinned. "We made a deal last night. If Marinette learns how to do trapeze then I have to learn how to swim."

John raised one eyebrow. "I thought that you swore off swimming for as long as you live."

"I changed my mind. Marinette has to learn how to do trapeze."

Mary and John were both smiling as they exchanged a look. Mary cleared her throat, then said, "Alright. Marinette, I'll get you a leotard, and then you can get dressed."

Given that they were approximately the same size, Dick would be partnered up with Marinette to guide her through the trapeze while she was in the air. Dick and John went ahead to get Dick in position before Marinette started. However, by the time Mary and Marinette got to the circus tent, Marinette was having second thoughts. While her new white leotard was cute, the thought of plummeting to her death while attempting to do trapeze was much less cute. "I'm not so sure about this."

"Marinette, I promise that there is no way you can get hurt. We'll have you strapped into a harness the whole time."

Marinette looked up at Mary, "You promise?"

As she looked up at Mary, the one thing that Marinette's anxious brain noticed was that the older woman had very trustworthy eyes. "Yes, I promise."

Marinette took a deep breath. "Then I want to learn how to do trapeze."

Mary smiled. "Good. Now, the first thing we need to do is get you into your harness. It will be connected to lunge lines to keep you safe in case you fall off the ladder. Then you'll climb the ladder to the top, and we'll attach you to more safety lines. At any point, no matter what happens, you'll be safe if you fall."

Mary helped Marinette into the harness, re-explaining everything as she went along. "Once you get to the top of the ladder, John will guide you through. Dick will be on the other side, mirroring everything you do, and showing you what to do next if you need help. Got it?"

"Yep. Got it." Now, all Marinette had to do was climb the ladder - the extremely tall, extremely scary ladder.

Mary put her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "You can do this, sweetheart. There will be things in life that you're scared of, and sometimes the only way to move forward is to face those fears."

Marinette smiled up at Mary. "Thank you." She got up onto the first rung of the ladder, then the second, then the third, making sure to look up at her destination instead of down at the ground.

"Good job," said John, as Marinette climbed up onto the platform next to him. "Now I'm just going to clip you into the safety lines and unclip you from the lunge lines. There's a specific set of commands that will tell you when to go. Dick is catching you, so he'll say 'Listo' when he's built up enough height in his swing. You then will say 'Listo' when you grab hold of the fly bar. Dick will tell you 'Ready' when you need to prepare to jump, and 'Hep' is the command to jump. When you get to the peak of your swing, Dick will yell "Hep" again. That's your signal to let go of the bar. Dick will grab your hands with his, and swing you back over to the other platform, where Mary will be there to help you back onto the platform. Are you ready?"

Marinette nodded, gazing at the trapeze setup with determination. "I'm ready."

Marinette watched Dick as he took off, holding his fly bar. As he swung, he transitioned from being upright, holding the bar with his hands, to being upside down, holding the bar under his knees, his hands free to catch her. "Listo!" Dick called out.

Marinette grabbed onto the fly bar. "Listo!"

"Ready!"

Marinette bent her knees and took a deep breath.

"Hep!"

Marinette jumped off the platform, swinging on the fly bar as the wind whipped in her face. It was exhilarating. Her fear of heights was the last thing on her mind as she watched the colors of the circus tent fly by. Marinette suddenly understood what Dick meant, when he told her that he wished to be able to fly. She felt incredible, and she never wanted the feeling to end.

"Hep!" Dick called again as he swung closer and closer to her.

Marinette let go. At the same instant, Dick's hands clasped around hers, and she was swinging with him.

"How does it feel?" asked Dick.

"Amazing!" Marinette cheered as they swung back to Dick's platform.

Mary was there to grab Marinette out of Dick's grasp, pulling her firmly onto the platform. Dick flipped himself upright and did a backflip up onto the platform. "Ta-da! How did I do as my first time as a catcher?"

"The both of you did very well. You were an excellent catcher, Dick, and you were a natural flyer, Marinette. I can see the two of you being able to pull off some exceptional stunts someday, if you were to continue trapeze, Marinette."

"I want to. I really do."

Marinette was eager to get back onto the trapeze as soon as possible, but Mary insisted that they stop for lunch first. As they walked out of the circus tent, Marinette pulled Dick aside and whisper-shouted, "That was your first time as a catcher and you didn't think to tell me?"

Dick shrugged, a mischievous smile spreading on his face. "I thought it would make you more nervous."

Marinette spluttered, "You- you-"

"Dick?" suggested Dick with a straight face.

The pair burst into instantaneous laughter, so hard they were gasping for breath as they made their way back to the Grayson's trailer.

------

The next three days passed in a blur. Every morning, Dick and Marinette would start their day on the trapeze. Dick guided Marinette through more and more advanced maneuvers, working as a team to accomplish amazing feats. Every minute they spent together up on the trapeze, Marinette could feel the connection between them growing. After a few hours up on the trapeze, Marinette and Dick would get down, get lunch, and explore the campsite. Marinette got to meet Zitka the Elephant and her calf, Nadia, both of whom were rescued from a roadside petting zoo in Texas and given to Haly after they were deemed too domesticated to be released back into the wild.

Marinette and Dick would get back on the trapeze in the afternoon until Mary and John called them for supper. Then, the circus would perform. Marinette would watch The Flying Graysons perform, amazed by how effortless they made it look. After the performance, Marinette would shower Dick with praise as they walked back to the trailer. Dick pretended that he wasn't flattered, but Marinette could see how much it meant to him, to hear it from her. Though they hadn't known each other for very long at all, there was instant platonic chemistry between the two of them.

Grandma Gina made herself scarce over the weekend, spending most of her time with her old friends from her circus days. However, she always made sure to stop in to watch Marinette on the trapeze, taking pictures to show Tom and Sabine when the couple returned to Paris.

The weekend felt like it lasted both three years and three minutes at the same time; nevertheless, Sunday night still came, and Marinette had to say goodbye.

"I'll just run away with the circus," said Marinette, sitting on the air mattress, staring at her fully packed backpack. "Mary and John would take me in."

Dick shook his head. "They would never allow it, no matter how good you are at trapeze."

Marinette sighed. "I'm really going to miss you."

Dick sighed as well, leaning his head against Marinette's. "This really sucks." After a moment of silently commiserating their terrible fortune, Dick suddenly jumped up. "I know! We can send letters to each other to keep in touch. And I can send you comic books when you need new ones to read."

"But the circus moves around constantly. Where will I send the letters to?"

"I have the schedule of everywhere that we'll be for the next six months. You'll just have to send the letters so that they reach the right destination at the right time."

"That means I can still talk to you!"

And suddenly, goodbye was a lot easier to bear.

------

Haly's Circus performed in Paris twice a year - once in January and once in July - meaning that Marinette and Dick had very little time to spend together in person. However, they did write to each other. Dick would send postcards from all the places he visited and Marinette invested in good stationery to write her letters on. Dick would mail over American comic books, carefully folded and stuffed into envelopes. Marinette would send back handmade patches for Dick to sew onto his leotard. They would write about all the details of their lives that they never mentioned to anyone else. Dick told Marinette that sometimes he wished that he could have had a normal childhood all in one place, but then he would think about all the people and places he would have never met and regret ever wanting anything else. Marinette told Dick that sometimes she worried that no matter how hard she worked to be interesting and funny and worthwhile, she would never be enough for the people around her.

Worried that she would forget how to do trapeze during the six months before Haly's circus returned, Marinette convinced her parents to let her attend the one gymnastics studio in Paris that offered trapeze. They were reluctant at first, worried that Marinette could get hurt, but after a thorough overview of the safety precautions, they finally relented. It was a thirty-minute metro ride, but it was worth it when she got up on the trapeze. Marinette quickly became friends with the other students her age at the studio. Alan, Allegra, and Claude were all two years older than her and lived on the other side of Paris, but they still made time to hang out with Marinette both inside and outside of the studio.

As Marinette grew more and more skilled at trapeze, she decided to try some similar sports. She split her free time between the studio, where she worked on developing her skills at trapeze, gymnastics, and aerial silks, and home, where she worked on designing and creating clothes. It was ambitious for a ten-year-old, but Marinette was determined. She loved trapeze and loved making her own clothes, and she loved those two things equally. She could never give one up, and could barely bring herself to prioritize one over the other when her free time grew scarce.

Marinette had her purpose in life: chasing the feeling of flying as far as it could go and creating things out of nothing but her own imagination. She had all the friends she could ever need, but most important to her was Dick, who, despite their distance, seemed closer to her than anyone else.

------

It was a Thursday, the day that Marinette's world ended. It was sunny and unusually warm for October. For Marinette, the day started off entirely normally. She went to school, ate lunch with Kim and Alix, went to the trapeze studio after school to work on a new trapeze routine, got hot cocoa with Alan, Allegra, and Claude afterward, then went home.

It was the 31st of October, the day that Marinette learned of the deaths of Mary and John Grayson. Mary, with her kind eyes, and John, with his crooked smile, were gone forever. Dick was an orphan.

Marinette was only eleven years old, the day that she learned the details of their deaths. They were on the trapeze, performing the closing act of the Gotham show. Dick was up on the platform, too young for the stunt they were performing. The ropes were cut halfway through. John reached out to catch Mary, going through the motions of a trick they had performed so often it would have felt as natural as breathing for them. John caught Mary. John's ropes snapped. They both plummeted, clipped the edge of the safety nets, going too fast, hitting the ground too hard, dead before the ambulances got there. Marinette couldn't help but picture the bodies of mangled birds that died when they hit the window too hard. Marinette pictured broken bones and broken hearts and in her grief, the only person she wanted was Dick. As much as she was hurting, she knew his grief overwhelmed her. Marinette needed to comfort him. Marinette knew her friend needed her.

Yet, no matter how hard Marinette tried (and she tried so hard, because it was the only thing that gave her any relief from the burning pain in her chest) she couldn't get in touch with Dick. Haly told her that Dick was taken in by Gotham's CPS, and they refused to provide any information about him to the circus. Although the circus was his second home, Gotham refused to return Dick. Haly's Circus was deemed an unfit home. Dick would never be returned.

Every day for months Marinette called Gotham's CPS and begged for any information about her lost friend. She pleaded with them that all she wanted to do was be able to send him a letter. But each time, she was refused.

Three months passed, and by the end of those three months, Marinette felt like her heart had been drained out of her. She had lost Mary and John Grayson, who had taught her not only trapeze but how to overcome fear and be brave. She lost Dick too, but in a different way. There was no way to get in contact with Dick again, and Marinette knew that couldn't spend her whole life mourning the friendship she had lost. She knew that she had to accept it and move on. Still, Marinette never stopped missing him.

Marinette could never quite forget Dick. She remembered him every time she got up on the trapeze, every time she made a new patch that she couldn't send to him, every time she sampled a new pastry for the bakery that she knew he would have loved, every time something big happened and her first instinct was to send a letter about it to him.

Five years without him and Dick still lingered on the edge of her mind. Five years without him and Marinette knew that she would never be at peace until she saw him again.

#maribat #dickinette #dick grayson #marinette dupain-cheng #MaribatMarch2021 #maridick #my work #miraculous ladybug fic

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Ghost Story

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Mood board is mine pictures were taken from Pinterest- Message me for credit.

This come from the wonderful @imagining-in-the-margins prompt list- go check her out she’s the best!

Warnings: One swear word- and if you’re super scared of ghost stories don’t read.

A/N: I’m really proud of this one! The ghost story is called whispers and I found it on the huffington post, it’s originally about Christmas but I changed it to fit Halloween (Even though it’s August- I’m just really ready for Halloween)

Masterlist

italics are the ghost story

——

“This is a story I do not often tell. I promise, sincerely, that this has scarred me for life and although I have looked into psychological explanations for what I heard and natural explanations for what occurred, they remain unsatisfactory.” Spencer’s voice cut through the air in a whisper. The pine green walls of our softly lit apartment gave me a sense of security that Spencer was actively trying to break as he relayed his ghost story.

It was nearly Halloween, the 28th of October to be exact, also known as Spencer’s birthday. Honestly it was the only reason I indulged in his request of reading a scary story, any other day of the year I would have flat out refused. So there I was perched on our leather sofa, staring a hole into a slice of pumpkin pie that I had made for his special day trying to take my mind off of the story.

“When I was a child, I was scared of the dark. I swore to my mother I heard voices in it. They were not evil, but they were not familiar and so they scared me. It was not uncommon in the middle of the night for me to wake up and hear “whispers” as I would call them when asking my mom. She figured they were just “bumps in the night” and typical kids nightmare material. I tried often to explain to her that it was more than that; that they sounded different from one another the way people’s voices do. On some nights I would get so scared from these “whispers” that I would sleep in my mom’s bed with her.” I now understood why he was so eager to share a ghost story with me tonight, the story paralleled his own journey with his fear of the dark. We both had a shared sentiment of fear surrounding dark corners, but Spencer was far braver than I when it came to the dark, after all he saw the worst of humanity everyday at work.

“I should add at this point that when walking out into the hall to go to the bathroom, you looked directly down the stairs that would lead you into my living room on the first floor (as my mom’s bedroom was on the second floor). On one such night, around Halloween, I awoke and felt the need to go to the bathroom. I walked out from the door and distinctly heard the phrase “Look!” and to my astonishment, an orange light, almost like a spotlight, was cast upon the wall at the very bottom of the stairs. The light had no other source, it was by itself, and I was transfixed by it.” The inflection that he had adopted to tell the story chilled my bones, making me feel as if I was a skeleton in the dead of winter.

The pumpkin pie was no longer enough to stare at so my gaze wandered to the knickknacks that adorned the apartment. The spotlight in the story eerily mirrored the decorations we had strung up, the string of pumpkin lights basked us in an orange glow aiding in the creepy persona Spencer had taken up. Puppets in white shrouds, freshly carved jack o'lanterns, and handmade black construction paper bats also furnished our home to give the appropriate mood for Halloween. Spencer and I had spent a whole weekend that he had off from work decorating our apartment to the nines. I detested the horrifying aspects of Halloween, but that didn’t mean I hated the holiday. I reveled in the fact that for one day a year I could be someone else, letting my imagination take the reigns of my life even though it was only for a night.

“Being a little kid, and it only being a few days from Halloween, I KNEW what this light was. IT WAS JACK SKELLINGTON!!!My parents had just let me watch a Nightmare before Christmas, he must be visiting! I was so excited I began walking down the stairs to greet him, picking up my pace after the second step as it began to creep off the wall and fade into the darkness in my living room.” My heart felt stuck in my throat as I sat at the edge of the couch, anxiously awaiting the dreaded jump scare that I could feel creeping up around me. No matter how formulaic ghost stories tended to be I was still tricked every time getting sent into a state of fright, my body always getting a stab of panic and a jolt of terror.

“That’s when I heard him. A very strong, masculine voice. Different from the first. Not at all like my father’s (not to say he isn’t masculine, it was just distinctly different). It said, “Stop! Right now. Go back up those stairs.” I listened, turned around, and what happened next I am not sure I would believe if someone had told me this same story. After reaching the top of the stairs, I heard a very loud CRASH” As If on cue from Spencer’s voice a loud clap of thunder shattered through our curtained windows, the sudden sound sent me cowering under my burgundy plush throw which swaddled me like a scared baby. My shaking form didn’t even notice that the story had stopped or that Spencer had retreated into the darkness. My eyes peeked out from under the blanket, the apartment was full of blackness- the power must’ve gone out. All I could see was the pale moonlight creeping through the drapery as my eyes darted trying to locate Spencer.

“Spencer?” I murmured into the shadows- no one answered back from the depths.

“Boo!” Spencer suddenly popped up behind the couch causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

“Fuck! Spencer Walter Reid!” I picked up one of our pillows, chucking it in the direction where I believed him to be hiding. His shriek permeated the apartment as he shielded himself from my wrath with what appeared to be candles. He must’ve retreated to find candles we had stashed in our bathroom when the power shut off.

“Most power outages will be over almost as soon as they begin, but some can last much longer – up to days or even weeks. Power outages are often caused by freezing rain, sleet storms and/or high winds which damage power lines and equipment.” He spouted off at me to try and quell my anger while setting down candles on the coffee table preparing them to be lit. From out of his pocket Spencer produced a disposable lighter- I always let him handle them because my fingers often got burned on them. Stroking the wheel, the lighter sparked to life lighting the apartment once more, soothing my frazzled state.

“I guess that’s kind of comforting…”

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?” The soft gleam of the candle flickered on my skin, illuminating the cringe that made its way onto my face.

“No thanks Spencer- I’d rather cuddle.” He flashed me a little stupid grin that I adored and joined me back on the couch. Spencer swathed the blanket around us settling into his position as the big spoon, the combined feeling of my boyfriend and the velvet like blanket made me feel impervious to the outside world. I nuzzled against his neck sinking deeper into the sofa, letting the soft edges of sleep overtake me, Spencer had a way with cuddles that almost always immediately lulled me to sleep. Sometime later when our pumpkin pie had been long forgotten the lights flicked back on, the fluorescent bulbs combined with the still glowing candles lit our sleeping figures.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fluff #fluff #halloween #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader

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chacecrawfcrd-archive · 2 years

Text

wedding talk | chaia

who: kaia gerber ( @minicrawford ) & chace crawford

date: october 28th, 2021

summary: after working on their relationship and finally getting to a much better place in it, chace and kaia talk about going public with their relationship status (aka the fact they’re married) and think about how they’d like to make it public.

warning: none

Kaia: “Do you know how many weddings we’ve attended since our own…?” It had been a question Kaia had been considering for a while. It seemed like every other week (or more realistically ever other month) they were celebrating the love of another couple while their own commitment was still something nobody truly knew about - let alone had truly gotten to celebrate with them. Hell, he had given her an engagement ring that for the most days were hanging around her neck rather than her finger. It wasn’t like Kaia had wanted to scream about their wedding from the roof tops, especially not in the beginning and after the first weeks when she wasn’t even certain that this would last - but she started to no longer see the reason why they were keeping this to themselves. Sure, some people would judge, but they were over that, right? Or maybe it was just the few glasses of champagne that made her look at her husband and want to share the fact that he was, in fact her husband, with the world. Certainly not at another couples wedding, that’d be selfish, but..maybe soon. “I’m not saying I don’t think our wedding was perfect…but I do envy them, sharing it with everyone and just, being so…open about!” There was no certain direction she was planning to head with this conversation, instead it was simply thoughts that needed to come out into the open air - who knew- maybe no sex and actual conversations led to exactly that, those usually forgotten thoughts suddenly coming out and being said out loud instead of suppressed

  Chace: Chace looked away from the view the location currently gave them when he heard Kaia speak up, tilting his head slightly as his gaze met hers. “Quite a bunch, I think.” Honestly with all the events going on - general parties, award shows, comic cons, birthday parties, baby showers…. - he’d lost track of how many weddings had happened since they’d gotten married but he did know that it were at least 3 or 4. He waited for her to carry on talking so he could figure out why she brought it up but he had an idea already. And he seemed to be sort of right about it when she know explained it. “I know you’d never think it wasn’t perfect because I’m sure we’re both aware it was the definition of our relationship so far - very eventful.” The older male chuckled as his arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer into his body, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “But yeah… I feel like I’m downgrading you whenever I call you my girlfriend in public. Even though I tend to correct myself in my head each time as well.” He added. It was funny to him that the sex ban actually seemed to work so well that they were communicating so much better and it felt… great. Somehow it also gave him the confidence to be a little more honest and open about his feelings as well as his previous words were proving. “I’d like for you to constantly wear that ring we bought in Vegas on your finger. And I want to wear mine on the right finger as well instead of switching between fingers or not wearing it but carrying it somewhere with me.”  

Kaia: Kaia snuggled into her husbands arm as he pulled her closer, her head resting against his shoulder as she listened to him speak. It was reassuring that he felt the same way, wanting to call her his wife just as much as she’d like to call him her husband. “You do?” She asked him grinning as she looked up at him again, pressing a soft kiss against his lip. “I mean I am your wife even if we don’t tell people…but I like those rings and I’d like to wear them always!” The engagement ring he had given her months after their wedding was mostly worn as an accessories on her middle finger, while their wedding band tended to hang around her neck. “I mean if we can do this no sex thing I am sure we could also do something like publicly be married!” The brunette joked a little before she added “plus the scariest people aka my mom already knows about this..so what’s the worst thing that could happen?” They both knew it’d still come with plenty of attention they both probably rather wouldn’t have, though she did simply want to be honest about her relationship and it’s importance. 

Chace: “Mmmhhm.” He confirmed with a gentle hum, smiling into the kiss. “I know but it feels weird calling you my girlfriend still.” Reaching up, he gently let his fingers ran across her cheek. Though he at least felt ready to make their marriage public, he was still a little hesitant because he didn’t want the opinions of others to weigh too heavy on them. Dating was one thing but being married was another and people just loved to throw their opinions on you without being asked. Especially in their businesses. “I mean you’re not wrong about that.” Chace chuckled as he agreed with her, sighing slightly but nodding along when she reasoned that the scariest person already knew about their marriage. “Mmm, maybe I’m worried there’ll be some people mutating into your mother and be unnecessarily difficult on us.” He sighed. “I know you’re very much capable of making your own decisions and if you want to make this public I’m all for it. I just hate the thought of this maybe having consequences we’re not thinking of yet. But I might also be overthinking this.”  

Kaia: “And there was a time when I couldn’t even get you to call me that, who says therapy isn’t working?” Kaia asked laughing, the joke too obvious to avoid but then again, it was true, they had come incredibly far in the relationship since they had met and it did make her proud - the fact that they were still here, still together. It seemed to be true that nowadays they really were keeping it to themselves more for others than for themselves nowadays. The young model leant her head against his shoulder, his argument so valid that she had no real argument against it. It was a risk for them, especially now that things were actually going well…with no actual roadblocks. “You’re not overthinking it…I’m actually sure it won’t be easy, but I think we would maybe it’s the next step we should consider. We can wait, I don’t think it needs to be now but..at some point?”

  Chace: “Hey, I had to make sure you earn that title. I’m not just giving my heart away to just any woman.” Chace joked along, though the last part was certainly true. And they both knew that this was one of the reasons he was scared to put a label on their relationship at first. But he was glad he eventually allowed himself to let her in. Even more so now that it finally felt sort of right to come public with their marriage sometime soon. “Sounds good to me. I think we can take a bit to think about how we want to make it public. Maybe there’s some way we can convince some of those haters that we’re in love and that should be all that matters.” He smiled at his wife while caressing her back gently.

  Kaia: “Good, cause I’m not just any woman!” Kaia replied grinning, sealing her statement with a soft kiss before she leant back against him. The idea to make their marriage public was a scary one and Kaia was more than happy to keep things the way they were, especially right now, but while she didn’t need to have this be something the entire world knew, for their friends to at least know definitely felt like something they should be working on. She wasn’t necessarily out of a big fat Instagram announcement, but she did want to make this official, especially since they had been married now for more than 6 months - a long time to hide a massive fact like that. “Did you just call my mom a hater?” She asked teasingly but nodded “I honestly think mom might be..more accepting once this is shared with the world, you know, one more way to show her that we are serious about this…?”  

Chace: Chace grinned against her lips, giving her one of those looks that said more than words ever could once she pulled back from the kiss. “You most certainly aren’t. In all the best ways possible.” There was not a single doubt that despite some people who would always judge him, those closest to them would support them. Well, maybe except for her mom. Or she would eventually warm up to him, though he wasn’t sure when that’d be. There might be an ounce of hope that Kaia was right about her assumption that her mom could possibly be more open to accepting them if they would be open about their marriage and no longer hiding it. “Maybe, yeah. I mean… I’d hope so. I don’t expect her to really like me but some… mutual respect maybe would be nice.” He shrugged slightly as a smirk appeared on his face. “But if that doesn’t happen, I’ll just have to make sure she will know how much I love you by leaving a message on her voicemail gushing about you every. single. day.” He chuckled softly after he placed kisses on her cheeks, lips and temple between each of his last three words.

#❛ &. interaction ⋮ para #❛ &. interaction ⋮ para: wedding talk #❛ &. featuring ⋮ kaia gerber #❛ &. i don't know what it is but i got that feeling ⋮ kaia gerber

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sophiexwrites · 4 years

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A Gift from the Ghost King

Inspired by this awesome headcanon from @give-nico-a-gun, thanks a ton for the inspo! It’s come to be a long-ish one, 2.2k words.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Christianity and needles, but not in the medical context... it’s really just harmless and sweet.

Setting: General Riordanverse/PJOVerse with canon/established Solangelo.

Mentioned couples Christmas sweaters from the shop (link).

Note: because most people recognise American-English more than normal English, I’ve decided to go American this time, like dropping the u when I have to and using ‘sweater’ instead of jumper so that no-one gets confused (fingers crossed I do it properly).

Nico and Will, for all their opposites, had one major thing in common: they were raised Christian. Neither were quite sure why, since their mothers were well aware of the Greek pantheon of gods rather than a monotheistic one, but they supposed their childhood communities wouldn’t have taken sweetly to the change.

Which meant the emo teen wasn’t focusing on Halloween this October, but on Christmas. Already. What do you get someone who claims to have it all?

Talking to his friends didn’t help much. Most of them suggested medical equipment or a simple day off; there were even a few jokes about sunscreen that Nico didn’t quite understand. Those of them who knew Will better said they were buying him new arrows, notebooks or trinkets to fit his sunny-surfer-dude aesthetic - those were great ideas but Nico couldn’t copy them. Will knew him well enough to tell whether it was Nico’s idea or not. The pale teen scowled, wondering why he even asked. He was completely stumped.

Until early November, that is, when Will began to drop hints. Nico only realised it when when his boyfriend convinced him into a store just to look at their collection of couples Christmas sweaters, covered with sickeningly sweet messages and nicknames.

"Aww. look Neeks - this one says ‘Don't go bacon my heart’!" Will laughed a laugh that turned Nico's cheeks to bright red, pointing at the sweater closest to them. It was attached to another one, reading ‘I couldn’t if I fried’, along with a drawing of a fried egg reaching out toward the other’s bacon.

The hints came a few more times before Nico swallowed his pride and decided to learn how to make one from scratch. Why DIY? Because everything Will did for Nico was done himself: from writing and playing his own music (nevermind how Will’s voice was definitely not winning X-Factor material), to the fake Mythomagic set full of realistic depictions of the gods, or the admittedly adorable summertime picnics with more food and baked goods than Nico could ever eat. Nico felt it was time to return the favor, and step one was learning how to knit.

It started clumsy and full of holes. Nico seemed to have a talent for dropping stitches. The section he was working on started too tight, then so loose that it was almost falling apart. After two weeks of constant secret practice, however, along with more YouTube tutorials and undone rows than he was willing to admit, Nico made something basically shaped like clothing.

But it was just regular, boring clothing. Of course, Nico knew Will would be overjoyed at just that, but this was the first Christmas the couple planned to spend together, at camp. It was time to go big or go home.

Long story short, Nico swallowed his pride again: this time, to ask his step-mother how to embroider. He was met with suspicious glances and wary questions before Persephone began cooing in delight.

“Oh, that’s the cutest thing! Who knew you could be so soft?” She giggled, already rushing around for threads, test fabrics and needles. “Though I suppose you take after your father, he’s secretly a big softie, y’know - now, are we doing patches, appliques, or diving in the deep end and sewing right onto the yarn?” Nico had a rule not to dive into anything, but with Christmas soon approaching he had to learn fast. Somehow, too, he had to keep it a secret from Will. By December 10th, he’d pretended the wide-eyed needles poking out of his cabin floorboards were totally a prank from Cecile, and Hazel definitely left behind the scrap of paper filled with wobbly cursive last time she visited... Will simply hadn’t noticed. Nico was just glad his boyfriend didn’t have time to read what was on the paper before he snatched it away; that would have ruined it all.

Christmas came quickly, fronted by sleepless nights of embroidery and fingers full of pinpricks for Nico. But he was glad to have it done by Christmas Eve, all wrapped and stashed under the black tree in the Hades Cabin. Usually, he would be spending the night alone, but tonight a warm Will-shaped bundle of joy hugged him while they slept. Nico could only hope he would be as happy the next morning.

“Is this one from you?” Will asked, voice quiet with hidden excitement. Nico nodded, too nervous to speak, pulling at his plain hoodie. The wrapping fell away as Will teared and tugged, soon left left cradling a lump of fabric. “This is... beautiful, Nico!” The nervous boy’s chest sagged in relief, smile stealing onto his face as Will threw off the sweater he was wearing and donned the new creation, spinning around in his rush to the nearest mirror.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh Gods, Nico, of course! Did you make this? Thank you so much!” Will held it up before putting it on, gifting Nico with a laugh like soft rain pattering down on a warm summers day as he read the words out loud. “Significant Annoyance? That’s perfect!” Nico laughed with him, glad the nickname was still well-received, as the teen slipped it on.

He was the greatest model Nico could have asked for. A narrow frame showed off the fabric well: a stunning blue, deep and bright at the same time. Nico thought he’d chosen it because it was cheap, but when Will put it on he realised it’s because it matched the doctor's eyes perfectly. The body of it fit well, even if the arms were a little loose, which made Nico glad he hadn’t painstakingly added rows upon rows of purled stitching for a cute pattern or edge. It wouldn’t have been worth the struggle - the embroidered words were centerpiece enough. They spilled across Will’s chest in a haze of silver, grey and white; threads mixed and blended in the way Persephone had learn from Athena herself. The 20 letters had taken ages to get right, but to see them coupled with Will’s pure joy and excitement as he studied them in his reflection made all the effort worth it.

Needless to say, it beat Will’s gift to Nico that Christmas... which may or may not have been a good thing, because Will’s competitive nature soon swarmed up, and he was already making a gift of his own by the New Year.

“Kayla!” He rushed, panting, into the Apollo cabin from the infirmary. “Please tell me you know where I left my other needle?” Will held a lonely knitting needle in his right hand, pointing it at his half-sister.

“Laundry pile.” She replied, waving behind her towards said pile. It was mainly full of denim and orange cotton, but Will managed to extract the pale wooden tool after some digging. “Why, are you making something again?” It had been years since Will had done any knitting, having been taught by Malcolm Pace of the Athena Cabin during Will’s first few weeks at camp, so Kayla had every reason to be curious.

“Yep.” Will fell onto his bed, after fishing out a ball of yarn from under it. “You know the sweater Nico made me?”

Kayla laughed, sitting up straight. “The one you’ve been wearing almost every day since?”

“Yeah, I want to make him one too.”

“What, for Christmas next year or something? Are you just going to hand it to him now?” His head was bent too far over his busy fingers to see as she raised an eyebrow at him, but he knew her sass too well.

“Oh, totally. You know me, just can’t wait to be organised and do everything in advance.” He grinned down at his work, shaking his head slightly with concentration. He didn’t want to drop a stitch, after all. “It’s his birthday on the 28th, I’m going to give it to him then.”

His sister aww-ed in delight, deciding (for once) to leave him be so that he could get it done on time. Will appreciated that, because he had a lot of work to do in the coming month - or, rather, 27 days.

Will certainly worked hard in those four weeks. Between shifts at the infirmary, general camp stuff and counselor responsibilities, he barely had time to himself let alone keep spending enough time with his boyfriend to make everything seem normal and knit him a sweater. Much like Nico had, he considered just buying one ready-made or getting someone else to help him, but he was eager to do it properly. So, it was a relief after sleepless nights and busy days that Will was finally finished with the sweater three days early; only the embroidery left. But Will was tired and had already misspelt half the terms on his latest patient file, so he had to keep it simple.

GHOST KING 👻 He finished, snipping the end of the silver-white thread. Will held it up to Kayla and the light, dusting off any last threads. “What do you think?”

“Ghost King...” Kayla read, a small smile on her face. “With a tiny ghost, too! That’s adorable, Will.” She wandered a little closer, inspecting the gift in the light cast from the sunrise. “You used a template, right? Because you can’t draw, and your handwriting has never been that good.”

“Geez, Kayla, no need to be so harsh.” Will smiled, clearly joking. “Of course I did, it’s got to be perfect for tonight.” It was already Nico’s birthday; Will stayed up all night to finish on time. Kayla knew this and sighed, deciding to make her brother get some rest.

“I’m covering your shift today, you need to sleep before you have your date tonight.” She decided, swinging Will’s bag over her own shoulder and giving his weary face a last look. “Seriously, sleep. I’ll make up some worthy excuse and tell Nico, he’ll understand.” Will protested for only a moment before yawning, and flopping down onto his bunk. A sleep couldn’t hurt...

He woke up near sunset that day, almost time to meet Nico. It was a rush for him to get ready and properly awake, but he made it to the woods just as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

“Will!” Nico waved from the edge, a small look of worry on his face. “I was, um... beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” He admitted, and Will felt his face burn in shame for making his boyfriend worry, even a little.

“Of course I’d come, I just slept in all day. Sorry.” He said, and they wandered a little deeper into the woods, searching for the clearing. Nico insisted it was no problem, which made Will feel more at ease. He was still excited, however, to show Nico what he made (the gift was hidden in his bag, with food for the birthday picnic).

The two made their way into the clearing in content silence, Will secretly itching to see Nico’s reaction to his gift. But he remained as patient as he could, happy to enjoy Nico’s smiles, quiet laughs and stories, enjoying his birthday together in the peaceful way Nico loved. In fact, Will (and Kayla, but she was sworn to secrecy) was the only demigod at camp who knew it was the Italian boy’s birthday - all Nico’s other friends were off in New Rome or the mortal world, after all. It made for far less stress on Nico’s half: he didn’t want random people wishing him a happy birthday all day. No, Nico di Angelo was perfectly joyful to spend the night with his Significant Annoyance under the stars, especially when he surprised him with a gift.

“Here you go.” Will said, presenting a soft package wrapped in black paper with tiny ghosts. The Son of Apollo bought it specially for that, and the remaining roll would stay unused in his cabin except from wrapping Nico’s other gifts: so he was relived to see the other boy smile ever so slightly.

“Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it!”

“Okay, okay!” He almost laughed, ripping the paper to reveal an equally dark sweater. “Wow, did you make this?” Will hummed in excited agreement, watching Nico unfold and hold it up to the moonlight.

“Oh my Gods.” He read the words and for a moment Will thought he was going to hate it. But then Nico laughed - no, giggled - a clear, pure sound cutting through the crisp air like a knife through cake. “It’s pretty cool, thanks Will.” The compliment wouldn’t seem like much to an outsider, but Will knew it meant a lot. Nico turned to look at the blond with his dark brown eyes, plain and simple in a way Will could get lost in forever. They were creased at the sides as he smiled, a true smile with his eyes that Will enjoyed so much. He looked good, too, with the well-fitting black sweater on, small letters and tiny illustration embroidered on the neckline.

“Stop staring.” Nico suppressed a smile, going red as his boyfriend shook his head slightly before looking Nico in the eye again.

“Aww, but you look so cute!”

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eloarei · 4 years

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tl;dr and TW: I had a miscarriage (and an ER visit)

So, I haven’t been on tumblr for a while. Let’s see how long. ...Three and a half months. Basically, I haven’t been on since a little before I found out I was pregnant. See, my birthday was January 28th. My last period had started on New Year’s Day, so I was slated to start again on my birthday, and I just kept thinking, “gosh, I would really like to not be on my period on my birthday!” Well, I got my wish. A few days came and went, and I thought, “okay, I’m pregnant.” This wasn’t an overreaction; I’d never been more than 3 days late in the past few years, and I just... felt it. I took the test, and lo and behold, it was positive. A ‘dye-stealer’, even. (A strong positive, where the positive line ‘steals’ all the dye from the control line.) (I’ve spent a lot of time on pregnancy forums; I’m familiar with a whole new world now.) I was happy. Mostly excited, mostly not scared. My husband was the same. We’d been married for 12 years with no kids, no prior pregnancies, and I’d thought for a few years that I probably did want kids-- it just... never happened. We were too careful, until we decided not to be. (Even then, we weren’t trying. We just let things do as they would.) The next 6 weeks were interesting. It was... neat? Neat to feel all the minute changes. Every day I was so aware of my body and what was happening to it. Even though I was almost not showing at all (I could see a slight difference; nobody else would have), I felt so big, and I was exhausted, but it was kind of fun. It was fun thinking about having an October baby; maybe its birthday would end up on my husband’s, or my old bff’s. Maybe it’d be 10-15-20. I thought that would be cool. And I thought about names, about how we’d arrange the house, how we’d afford everything when we have such a habit of just squeaking by. I felt we were up for the challenge. But I read a lot of information. SO MUCH information. So I knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work out. After all, roughly 1 out of every 4 known pregnancies ends badly. And there was no reason why I should miscarry, when I was healthy, and my family didn’t have a history of common miscarriages. But I wasn’t stupid, and I’ve never been the kind of person to say, “it won’t happen to me”. I guess I was lucky that I read so much, that I knew things could go wrong, because they did. Even so, I wasn’t entirely prepared. I started bleeding around week 9, so I read an absolute ton about miscarriages. They all said it happened pretty quick-- maybe a few days of light bleeding before the ‘big event’, and that the event itself was painful-- AT LEAST like heavy period cramps. When I continued bleeding for over a week I thought “...maybe it’s not a miscarriage?” I read some more and determined it could have been a subchorionic hemorrhage-- bleeding in the uterus that is usually not fatal to the baby, often characterized by period-like bleeding: long, slow, not very painful. The whole time I was trying to find a place to get an ultrasound. I don’t/didn’t have a doctor of my own, a primary care physician or an obstetrician. I’ve never really done doctors. Figured I’d wait until about the second trimester to find one, since my readings told me a lot of doctors waited til week 10+ for the first appointment anyway. Unfortunately, all the clinics I talked to wouldn’t deal with me when I mentioned I had some bleeding-- even though it was just a little bit! Less than a period. “Go to the ER”, they said, to which I responded that I absolutely was not going to go to the ER for a non-emergency when hospitals were stuffed with coronavirus patients. Therefore, I just waited while I kept looking, hoping it would sort itself out. In a way, it eventually did. Monday morning, as I was about to go to sleep (I work nights), I had some slightly heavier bleeding. Thought it might have been another small clot. Sat on the toilet for an hour before I felt woozy and decided to lay in the tub before I passed out. Thank god for my husband, because I don’t know if I would have survived the next several hours without him. HERE’s the TMI >>>>>>> I continued bleeding for the next three hours, my husband pouring warm water on me to wash all the little clots away. After a while, I passed a huge clot, size of an egg. Ever done that science experiment where you use vinegar or something to dissolve an egg shell and you’re left with just the innards in a flexible membrane? Well it was like that, but blood. I passed out a little while after that. ....That’s when I knew things were getting weird. It was my second time passing out ever, and I hated it. I think it’s literally my least favorite thing in the world. 5 seconds that feels like an eternity and it feels like you’re going to die but you can’t explain why. Terrible. I still thought maybe we could get through this. It didn’t hurt, it was just... well, losing blood. It was within the realm of what I’d read about subchornionic hemorrhage, so I thought maybe that clot was the worst of it. HMM, I was wrong. I passed another one just like it. Then I passed out twice in quick succession, upchucked all over myself (the smell haunts me, ugh), and apparently turned rather blue. So I told him, “hey, it’s time for the ER”. Boy, that was....... a thing. He called his mom because I said I didn’t want him driving and for me to pass out again when he couldn’t help. I swaddled myself in towels and garbage bags so I wouldn’t bleed all over the damn place, all the while feeling like I might just die at any moment. When we got to the ER, they put me in a wheelchair, asked me some questions I could barely answer, and then took me back. The next 24 hours consisted of being stabbed, suctioned, and pumped with 5 liters of saline solution which left me smelling weird. I was barely conscious for the first half of it, but talking and joking whenever I could-- because apparently that’s how I deal with stress. Anyone surprised? Anyway, they quickly confirmed what I knew as soon as I passed more than one ungodly egg-clot: it was a miscarriage. They removed what was left; I didn’t look at it, but my husband said there... wasn’t really much. Nobody did any analyses, so I’m left to surmise that it wouldn’t have been more than 6 weeks (or possibly anembryonic), meaning it was just in there for 5+ weeks by then, doing nothing but accumulating blood. Insult to injury much? The biggest strangeness of the whole ordeal, the reason why I didn’t expect it was a miscarriage in the first place, was that none of it hurt. Every story I read said it hurt, but this just felt... awkward. I mean, passing out wasn’t fun. Sure as hell didn’t feel comfortable, but I never experienced any pain (except the blood draws; lord did those bruise. Ugh). The whole thing left me feeling exhausted. It took days before I could do more than toddle around the house. It’s been 2 weeks now, but I still feel a little sick when I think about those fucking clots, or the strangeness of the ER, or passing out 4+ times. I’m hoping I don’t have brain damage, geez. I certainly feel mentally slower than usual, like maybe the pregnancy-brain never went back to normal. As for what I feel emotionally... it’s... hard to say. I’m sad. Disappointed, annoyed. But mostly I was scared. And that makes me hesitant. I still want a kid. I wanted that kid. But I’ve always been very careful. We always knew the risks and wanted to wait until the right time. The problem is, now... Now I’m more intimately familiar with some of the risks, and I’m a bit afraid it’s going to make me too careful. Will I ever get another chance? Will I ever give myself another chance? I don’t know. I really just don’t. Mostly though, I am glad to be alive. And while I was more than accepting of the ugly bloated and tired feeling of pregnancy, I’m happy to take the good with the bad now. I hate what I lost, but my body is starting to feel normal again, and... well, that’s nice, I guess. Anyway... That’s partly why I haven’t been online, and what I’ve been up to since. God I hope you guys have all had nicer, less-eventful years so far. (If you wanna catch up, feel free to message me. The IM feature seems busted on my end, so maybe try sending an ask or something instead.)

#elo talks #long post #super long post #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy #tw: emergency room #tw: blood loss #this is a personal post but I don't mind who interacts with it. I hope maybe it'll help someone somehow #sorry to make you read all this crap

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colubridcollective · 4 years

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Introduction Post

This is going to be our introduction post for this blog / our parts.

We have been a passive member of the DID community for a long time now, and we decided it would be nice to set up a true system blog. We have been diagnosed with DID, and our body is over 21.

Our system name is the Colubrid Collective, named after our favorite family of snake, Colubridae. Church chose “collective” over “system” for two reasons: it alliterates, and he says that collective sounds more communist.

This blog doesn’t necessarily have a set purpose or goal. It is mostly just a place for us to be an active part of the community. There will most likely be resources, memes, personal posts, anecdotal experiences, research ... anything we feel is relevant to either DID or our system. There may be MBTI / typology things, too. Church is really into it.

We aren’t great at tagging, but if anything needs to have a content warning, please let us know. :)

- Levi!

System Members

Please note that we will not be labeling roles outside of “frequent fronter” and “protector.” We do not like many of the terms used to describe the roles of parts, and we do not like to attach a strict labeling system onto ourselves - it is too complex to post here.

Additionally, some of our parts were unable to provide little descriptions like these; the ones that were able to gave their consent to have it written by Church and me (Levi!) and posted here.

Church - 18 / 22M - ENFJ - Gay communist. Thinks Freud was right until he was bought out and bribed by the bougie to go off his rocker.

Birthday: August 8th

Frequent Fronter

Originated as a fictional introject from Red vs. Blue. Garbage source, really.

Interests: psychology, video games, cooking, and loving on my fiance. I don’t have a ton of hobbies, and apparently that’s a problem I gotta work on, but ehh.

Levi - 6-10 / 12 / 16M - INFP - Horrible little carnivore; talks like mountains.

Birthday: April 16th

Frequent Fronter, Age-Slider

Interests: snake care. I am a host, but that is all I have a passion for, haha. I have a kingsnake, a cornsnake, and I am taking care of my boyfriend’s hognose until he moves back in with me! I know a lot about snake care.

I age-slide all over the place, it gets confusing sometimes :(. I am mostly 16 if I am online or socializing, but at home, I am usually 12. The 6-10 range is uncommon!

Lucas - 28M - ENTJ - Working part that gave all of his fun bits to Church.

Birthday: August 1st

Formed to help handle our job and any other active “adult” tasks.

Interests: work and getting shit done. My fiance too, obviously.

I’m usually co-con with Church rather than fully out on my own. I don’t mind it at all.

Kitten - Adult M - N/A - Just a fuckin’ cat. Sometimes catboy.

No birthday.

Mostly inactive or only influencing these days. May integrate fully soon!

Presents as a non-verbal cat most of the time, but can morph into a “catboy” if he is blurry with others.

Michael - 39M - INTP - Angel of the Lord, lover of all of God’s creatures. Father of 5 rowdy children (not part of our system.)

Birthday: January 20th

Protector

Originated as an introject of the Archangel Michael. Mostly just a meme now, though.

Interests: his children, sleeping, and vibing in the void.

Epsilon - 18M - INTJ - The embodiment of this emoticon: -_-

Birthday: Unsure, we’re still trying to figure it out.

Fictional introject of Epsilon from Red vs. Blue. Originally formed as a fragment, but grew into his own full identity.

Artificial intelligence babie!

Interests: one man and one man only. Oh, and frisky business, too.

Alpha - Adult ? M - N/A - Wuh wuh I was tortured wuh wuh.

Birthday: Unsure / none?

Fictional introject of Alpha from Red vs. Blue (specifically the PFL-era.) Still a fragment, unlikely to form a separate identity on his own.

Also an AI.

DC - 16M - ISTP - “You ain’t got no legs, Lt. Dan!”

Birthday: July 2nd

Originated as a roleplay character a few years ago, and now he’s ... back from dormancy for some reason? We’re really not sure.

Ain’t got to gotdamn legs - organic ones, at least.

Interests: doing things, which is better than most of us. Mechanics, welding, working with his hands.

Cal - 18-20F - ESFP - Fuck men, but also fuck men, amirite? But seriously, men are garbage.

Birthday: January 28th

Originated as a roleplay character a long time ago. The first and main part for our “High School Squad.”

Interests: Kesha, working out, fashion.

Mostly inactive these days, but still kicks around sometimes.

Jason - 22M - ISFJ - Betabux cuck; a legitimately nice guy who can’t ever get his own voice right.

Birthday: August 14th

Protector of the High School Squad

Inactive for the most part. Will rarely come around if needed.

Skippy - 16F - ENFP - That popular but nice girl in high school. You know the one.

Birthday: February 24th

Academic part during high school and a bit of college.

Inactive for the most part.

Vian - 16F - ESFJ - Also the popular nice girl, but a bit of a loner, more down-to-earth.

Birthday: October 2nd

Sports / activity part during high school.

Also inactive for the most part.

Donec - 20M - N/A - Mute, I guess? That’s all I got for him, man.

Birthday: Unsure

Honestly, we have no idea what he’s about. He’s been around for almost a decade, but we don’t know shit.

Chill tho.

Will - 13M - TBD - Introject of a cat from Neko Atsume (that’s a joke.)

Birthday: TBD

Full name is Willow. He couldn’t decide on a name, and wound up taking it from the cat he liked in the game Neko Atsume. Kids, man.

Recently formed; still getting used to everything.

Lastly, some older parts we have recently connected with. They weren’t able to give us much information, and we don’t know enough about them to make a cute little profile.

Dean - 10M

Annabelle Lee / Ally - 13F

Annie - 7-12F

Yas - 30sF

#dissociative identity disorder #actuallyDID #intro post #.levi #.church

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world-without-authors · 4 years

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A Look at Our Main Cast

The World without Authors features a rather big cast, and losing track of people between chapters is quite easy. That’s why I thought that it is the right time to toss in some more information about the main cast, to help follow who’s who in this huge thing where giving enough space to everyone is always a difficult balance.

As such, I will be using this post to write some “behind the scenes” of my characters, and Aelit’s, which I hope will be useful for understanding them, or at least get up to date with the things that are told in my previous works and are important to understand them now. And, why not, learn some of the odd details about their creation.

Sergio Turbo

Birthday: October 27th, 1991 HST Age: 22 years old as of Unravel Height: 180 cm Blood type: 0

Sergio has been one of the main characters since the very first chapter of Mai Dire Fine, released April 13th, 2006.

At 14 years old in 2006 HST, he was one of the oldest characters in the Mai Dire Fine core cast, with only Kathleen and Pyro being older by just a few months. This, combined with his leader-like attitude and me being one of the more prolific authors, not only led to him becoming the de facto leader of the “Kids of the War”, but also led to some of the other writers taking time off the development of their own characters to give it to the Sergio-Sakura-Syaoran love triangle.

Said love triangle, by the way, was born due to me writing one particular scene badly. “Sakura” (actually, Nikki) had just died on a cursed treasure, and I overstated his reaction to her death to the point the other authors convinced themselves he had a crush on her… and, once “Sakura” was brought back to life, ran with it.

Sergio, circa 2007 HST, with his trademark red jacket and bandana.

So, yes. One of the driving forces of of my following stories wasn’t my idea, and wasn’t planned on my part at all. It is also interesting to note that, as per PPC convention, Sakura’s death and resurrection was so out of what’s allowed in CLAMP canon that what came out simply had to be a Character Replacement at that point – so, contrary to what he believed, he had never made the actual Sakura fall in love with him (assuming she was ever present in Mai Dire Fine, and wasn’t Nikki all along).

Sergio, circa 2011 HST, as a PPC agent.

Another interesting fact is that he was supposed to have a weaker “copy” of Kathleen’s power, passed on by her when he was still in his test tube because… well, she thought it was a fun idea. He only ever used them once subconsciously, and so much time has passed that said “copy” likely has worn off or athrophized to the point of being no longer usable. As such, anything out of the ordinary he does is either a result of the genetic manipulation Marcus did on him, the result of his skills honed in years of fighting, or a combination of both.

Nikki Cherryflower

Birthday: April 1st, 1994 HST Age: 20 years old as of Unravel Height: 168 cm Blood type: A

Since she was originally meant to be Sakura Kinomoto in Mai Dire Fine (in which her first appearance was in Chapter 3), Nikki didn’t get her own name until Planes, Guns, Gun, Clones and other usual PPC stuff, originally released five years later in 2011.

As I’ve already mentioned in another post, Nikki wasn’t originally meant to be the same individual as the Sakura of Mai Dire Fine, and was created at first with the simple idea of “let’s toss another Sakura at Sergio and have fun at his awkward reactions”. This is quite noticeable in her first mission, A Very Awkward Exorcism, where I still didn’t have a clear direction on how to develop her character. But that’s OK, she didn’t know what to make of herself either at the time.

Nikki, circa 2011 HST, as a PPC agent.

It wasn’t until I was already planning Blank Sprite that I merged the characters, after realizing that my failed Sakura was actually quite close in characterization to Nikki. This gave her a development arc focused on regaining her lost memories, and fits with the overall theme of rediscovery and acceptance of the past.

A still from the first Cardcaptor Sakura movie, which gives a pretty good approximation on how Nikki looked during Mai Dire Fine. Just pretend she’s on a vaporetto in Venice instead of Hong Kong.

Perhaps one of the things that made Mai Dire Fine‘s “Sakura” and Nikki so similar is the fact that I deliberately avoided rewatching Cardcaptor Sakura while writing Nikki’s first few appearances. I wanted to make sure I was developing Nikki freely, without copying Sakura or deliberately doing the opposite, but this probably caused me to subconsciouly draw from my earlier “Sakura” iteration and from other sources – in fact, I believe Nikki ended up being more similar to Ran Mouri from Detective Conan than to Sakura.

Corolla

Birthday: May 25th, 2010 HST Age: 4 years old as of Unravel Height: 140 cm (full size form), 30 cm (Unison Device form), 15 cm (“Fun size” Unison Device form) Blood type: N/A

Corolla was created in 2010 specifically for my Protector of the Plot Continuum works, and to be the opposite of Sergio: ditzy, unfocused, and incapable of staying serious for more than a few seconds at a time.

Her name, as per Lyrical Nanoha naming scheme, comes from the 1983 Toyota Corolla GT, the US market version of the Toyota Sprinter Trueno Sergio drives. I’m a big fan of that car (oddly enough, not due to Initial D: I actually am quite angry at that series for making it too popular… and expensive to get), but I never decided if Corolla took her name on Sergio’s suggestion or if it was her own idea.

I was a huge Lyrical Nanoha fan a the time, and decided to make her an Unison Device to take full advantage of what her tiny size and tecnomagical nature would entail in term of funny situations.

I kept developing her throroughly during my PPC works, adding more facets to her personality and turning her into the ditzy, mischievious genius with a heart of gold and an undying loyalty towards her friends everyone knows and loves.

Corolla’s early appearance between 2010 and 2011 HST.

While everyone nowadays knows her with light blue hair in pigtails, she wasn’t like that when I originally created her but used to have brown hair in a ponytail. Her current appearance was only introduced in Planes, Guns, Clones and other usual PPC stuff, where it was the result of her getting zapped by Grace Leon’s failed hologram projector. She took a liking to the color, and so never had her hair pigmentation fixed.

She also switched to pigtails as a way of enhancing her “genius ditz” image, and she actually makes her “idiot hair” forelock herself by using hair gel on some strands every morning.

Corolla has been defined “Best Character” by more than one of my readers (though I’m mostly looking at you, Huinesoron) and I wholeheartedly agree: while she doesn’t have literally anything in the way of a character arc, that’s perhaps what makes her such a fresh supporting character alongside her free and wild personality.

Ami Tanegashima/Ami Cappuccino

Birthday: December 28th, 1993 HST Age: 19/20 years old as of Unravel (depending on whether Ami Cappuccino or Ami Tanegashima is considered) Height: 150 cm Blood type: A

Ami was introduced posthumously in I don’t like luxury cars, specifically to build up her later role in Blank Sprite.

Her background, in particular the death of her parents during the 2007 Organization War, was designed to make her into someone Sergio could relate to: they both lost the people they held dear, and kept fighting to make sure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

That, combined with her kind and honest personality, managed to somewhat break into the wall Sergio was already building around himself… only for her death to put back every brick and then some.

The “confession” outfit. Cute, but fails at making her look more mature… in fact, it does quite the opposite.

Her short (at 150 cm, she’s the shortest of the human girls in my main cast) and cute appearance is a leftover of her original “ill girl” concept I recycled from another story I never wrote, but I think I’ve managed to turn it into somewhing to give her more characterization. She’s quite self-conscious about her height, and does make an effort to look more mature by, for example, being the only girl in the new Strike Dove to go for the pencil skirt variant of the dress uniform. However, she also loves cute things, as exemplified by her collection of plushies and the single pigtail she wears with her Barrier Jacket and wore in chapter 12 of Blank Sprite during her failed confession attempt.

I grew so attached to the character that I decided to take advantage of the chaos caused by the Unravel to bring her back through Ami Cappuccino: her self-insert from a fanfiction she wrote some time before her death. During the Unravel, Tanegashima’s soul and memories crashed into Cappuccino’s body and merged with those already there.

As Tanegashima based Cappuccino off herself, it was a rather quick process which incapacitated her for just half a day as her brain tried to to deal with the sudden doubled amount of conflicting memories, but I still feel like it help set the theme of cross-fictionality that I’m using for building up the leftover world canon and original characters found themselves in.

Ami’s early concept.

Another oddity about her is that I took a lot of time to finalize some details of her appearance: while “short and cute” was set in stone since the beginning, I only finalized her hair and eye color while I was already writing Blank Sprite. In fact, for most of the time I spent working on the main plot synopsis before starting to write the first chapter and until around chapter 5 or 6 I was leaning more towards brown hair and reddish brown eyes, and only switched to the other style (black hair and purple eyes) as I was writing chapter 7 to make her resemble Homura that little bit more and cause a flashback to Sergio.

In hindsight, though, I do think the final combination suits her more, so I’m happy I switched.

Caterina “Kathleen” Leone

Birthday: July 31st, 1991 HST Age: 17 years old as of Unravel Height: 163 cm Blood type: 0

Kathleen, like her brother, was first introduced in Mai Dire Fine. However, due to her author, Aelit, only joining the writing group when the story was already ongoing Kathleen was introduced fairly later compared to the other main characters of Mai Dire Fine.

The subplot of her being Sergio’s sister was also developed well after her introduction, and Aelit and I came up with the idea of making our characters Marcus’ offsprings independently.

We can sum up the exchange roughly this way:

“Hey, SergioTurbo, I had this great idea about Kathleen but it involves Marcus so I want your opinion first: what if she’s his daughter?” “Aelit, I… actually was going to make the same thing for Sergio.” “So, they’re actually brother and sister but they don’t know it? Cool!”

With a bit of rework (namely, Kathleen actually knowing about Sergio but feigning ignorance) we dropped it in, but this hastily thought plot development we made while writing a terrible fanfiction is going to finally be developed properly now, ten years later, as the arc in which we were using it is also the one we never finished.

Aelit’s Notes:

Like Sergio, Kathleen began her life as a self-insert. Her personality was based partly on mine and partly on what I wished mine to be. That said, when I made her I was in middle school, and that’s why her personality never stood the same for more than two chapters: every time I tried a new style or saw something cool, she would change accordingly. Now Kathleen is only a little part of me and mostly her own person. This is part of the reason why I wanted this Kathleen to be from a timeline different than Mai Dire Fine‘s one, I wanted a sharp break between the two.

Federica “Faith” Leone

Birthday: February 13th, 1988 HST Age: 21 years old as of Unravel Height: 172 cm Blood type: A

Faith was one of the last characters created for Mai Dire Fine. She was introduced only during the last arc and had very few appareances as a result.

As such, we had never really developed her personality much past “kind, polite and refined girl from a wealthy background”, which however came with the fact she was also an almost completely white canvas we could work on without having to deal with our past sorry attempts at making characterization.

We do have something to work on – her refined background, her skills as a sniper and especially her relationship with her cousin and lover Kathleen (Don’t look at me that way, Aelit’s idea here. And CLAMP did it before us anyways, look at Tomoyo. And Tomoyo’s mother.)

Part of her planned development will be actually inspired by all of this: she will realize that, having spent most of her life keeping Kathleen safe both from outside danger and her own wild and reckless antics, she’s not sure about what she actually wants for herself.

Aelit’s Notes

I made Faith at the time I started questioning my sexuality and originally her only purpose was to be the starcrossed lover of Kathleen who’d die not long after being reunited. A clichéd romantic tragedy brought forth by the mind of a typical emo teen. The idea was that she was to stay dead, but later I felt sorry for her, since she didn’t have the opportunity to evolve as a character, and like Sergio’s anticipated I’d like for her to realize she literally only lived for Kathleen and start being independent. As for the cousins part, I honestly don’t remember much but knowing myself I probably did it for the shock value… at the time I was naïve and didn’t know most fandoms have their fair share of incest ships. If only, the fact that they’re cousins and not sisters makes for a much milder ship than most in the Web.

SergioTurbo’s Note on Aelit’s Notes

If you compare what Aelit just said to what I’ve said in the past, you’ll notice that we remember differently about how we were planning to play out Faith’s death: I actually remember that her death was to be undone by the main group coming back to the present after the “trip to the future”. This goes a long way to show how badly coordinated we were at the time, with people changing ideas or retconning things all the time.

Keiko Caterina Turbo

Birthday: April 13th, 2019 HST Age: 16 years old as of Unravel Height: 165 cm Blood type: 0

Sergio and Nikki’s daughter, Keiko was introduced in Youthful Indiscretion, a story I wrote with Desdendelle in 2016 which became the first of her own spinoff set in 2035 HST.

Of my characters, she’s the one who spent the most time in development limbo: a “daughter from the future” character was actually planned to be introduced in a later arc of Mai Dire Fine, though at the time it would’ve been another “serials filed off” character like Carol Liddell, with the stll unnamed daughter character being based off Nanoha Takamachi.

I think at the time I’ve briefly considered calling her Sara, being an Italian name that sounds pretty close to Sakura (as Nikki hadn’t “split off” from her at that point). As much as of a silly idea that is, it is actually the only Italian name I’ve ever considered for the character.

Keiko’s Magical Girl outfit. She wants it clear that it isn’t her design.

When I started working on her more seriously for a PPC context, I did briefly consider having her called after a canon character (Nanoha again), before scrapping that idea too. I wanted something more unique and used Akane as a placeholder, but I realized pretty soon that her parents would have chosen her name by looking at the meaning. And that’s where I found Keiko (“blessed/lucky child”) to be fitting: as her parents were the only survivors of the” Kids of the War”, and with everything they faced after, they believe Keiko is very lucky to have had the chance to exist.

Her second name, Caterina, is Kathleen’s legal first name. Sergio and Nikki decided to homage her as the “slap from behind the grave” she did to Sergio in Chapter 13 of Blank Sprite was one of the factors in Sergio regaining his lost confidence, and gaining the courage to finally face his past instead of running away from it.

Sergio and Nikki would’ve actually contemplated using Ami as a second name instead, if the actual Ami didn’t tell them not to. While I hadn’t come up with the idea for The World without Authors yet at the time, it would’ve indeed made things more awkward for her and Hajime.

Her parents wanted her to be able to live the normal childhood and teen years that they were denied themselves, but at the same time they let her make her own decisions. Even if they weren’t completely onboard with her becoming a Magical Girl first and a PPC agent later, they still supported her no matter what.

Which means that, somewhere in the multiverse, there was a world in which one of the top-ranking anime of 2032 was “Dream Guardian Wave Keiko”.

Hajime Irene Turbo

Birthday: April 13th, 2019 HST Age: 16 years old as of Unravel Height: 160 cm Blood type: A

Sergio and Ami’s daughter from an alternate timeline, Hajime was created specifically for The World withouth Authors, and is still somewhat work in progress as a character.

Despite being literally Keiko’s alternate timeline incarnation, they only really share a father: having different mothers and growing up in different continents made them into completely separate individuals.

Compared to Keiko, who had more of a “normal girl” life (Magical Girl shenanigans aside), Hajime grew up planning to become a Strike Dove operative like her parents – not unlike her mother herself did. As such, despite having a sweeter personality compared to Keiko, the more thorough survival training she had made her quicker to take practical decisions.

Like with Keiko, I decided that her name was to be a meaningful one for her parents: Hajime means “beginning”, symbolizing the beginning of a new life for the alternate universe versions of Sergio and Ami after all the fighting and losses caused by the 2007 Organization War.

Her second name, Irene, comes from Irene Johnson, Colonel Leroy Johnson’s daughter, Kathleen’s natural mother and Sergio’s genetical mother who disappeared in 1995 HST. It was mostly a thank you gesture by Sergio and Ami towards Leroy, who took care of Ami after her parents’ death and was the closest to a father figure Sergio ever had.

Ai Minase

Birthday: July 11th Age: 17 years old as of Unravel Height: 171 cm Blood type: 0

Ai is the only “proper” canon character in my core group, having been borrowed from Koikatu (the very same game I’m using to make illustrations due to my absolute lack of drawing skills).

I decided to use her as both her backstory as a troubled schoolgirl and origin in an H-game had a lot of storytelling potential in my setting, but a lot of it is spoilers so I’ll have to let you learn about her as the story proceeds.

One little interesting tidbit, though, is her height: as extrapolated from the game’s files, this cute, babyfaced girl is actually a lot taller than she looks. At 171 cm

Ai in her school uniform, the one she wears in Koikatu and in chapter 2 of The World without Authors.

she’s not only the tallest heroine in the game, she’s also the tallest of the Asian girls in my core cast (beating Nikki, who is already pretty tall for a Japanese girl, by three centimeters) and is the second tallest overall losing to Faith by only one centimeter. This actually led to some difficulties while making the “beach fanservice” illustration as she was the perfect victim for Corolla’s Super Soaker shenanigans, but with Corolla being the shortest at 140 cm it took a bit of fiddling to make the angle at which Corolla was firing her water gun look right.

#blank sprite #world without authors

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jodierolls · 4 years

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(Draft from November)

September 28, 2019

I was in Baguio, preparing for taking LET the next day. It was months of preparation and I’ve built enough anxiety and stress to the point that I always find my self shaking whenever I get the thought of the coming day. I also got the greatest self doubt I ever gave to myself, never believed that I’d pass. I was even preparing myself to resign on my current occupation in case that everything goes off.. syempre sino ba naman ako para maging confident pumasa. Di naman ako sobrang talino at wala pa kong anim na buwan na nagreview and among nearly 80,000 takers per exam 20,000 lang pumapasa and I’m not even an educ grad.Really, I was at my lowest for these past months. And this ... 28th day of September came. I was busy being with my school group in Baguio, visiting our own LET school placements and rooms so that we won’t be lost on the day of the exam. We had home made lunch at a friend’s house where I felt the Earth shook a little. It was an uncanny feeling but didn’t brought it up. I also got into the first fog that was taking place on the streets of Baguio. When we got back to our transient house, it was afternoon. We were supposed to raise hell and review a bit more and that’s when ... I ... got .. the news .. “Wala na si papa” “ Umuwi ka na” . a month later writing this, sobrang sakit pa rin kahit na sabihin yung mga salitang ‘yon . And yes, I planned to leave and go home that instant. “It’s over” that’s what I thought. What’s the point of taking LET when the one of the most important person to you is gone. I am so lost. If ever, to whom... would I dedicate my passing results? To the people that never watched me grow up and be the person I’d want to be ? To the people that doesn’t even remind me to eat regularly and buy me a lot of coffee, cups, socks and shirts because their my favorite things? To people that I can't tell my deepest fears. Lol I thought failing was a deep fear. Papa, was that person. Aside from mama, he was the first person that understands me because we think alike. Papa was always ready to catch me and provide guidance whenever I need it. He the most patient person ever. Like me, he was more fond of writing down his thoughts rather than personally talking about it. He was fine. Imperfect but okay. He took me to perfect dates whenever he can even though he gave me a challenging childhood. He loved me and he knows he's my dearest. I'm his sweetheart... I'm carrying that lifetime password forever. Just like this my thoughts of him were flooding my mind and it overflowed through my eyes. As I ponder the news of his death, I run through the last time we met, I came home from Aurora in July and we were supposed to celebrate my birthday but failed to because he was sick; the last words I said, "Pagaling ka pa! Sayang uwi ko!" and he flashed his tight lipped smile to me as if it was was one of my usual jokes; the last words he sent me "Dapat nagdala ka ng jacket at medyas! Bumili ka dyan!" when I was whining about how cold Baguio was. I wasn't fond of chatting for months even though I held my phone most of the time. Back to the reality, did I feel regret? No. He understood me and I understoom him back. We are who we are because of each other. What I felt was tremendous amount of grief and I was a total wreck that afternoon. I cried for hours wanting to give up and go home. My friends didn't let me because "Gugustuhin ni Papa mo mag-take ka ng exam" and it was true. I had the worst headache in my 24 years of existence because of crying so much and that's another huge plus of me doubting if I can take the exam the next day. Can't even think of what would happen if I breakdown in the examination room while taking the test. I was a mess. I didn't go home, I didn't review even though I tried to read but tears was technically leaking out. I was tired of crying and found myself sleeping, then waking up and crying again- it felt like an endless night for me. Finally my manager got the news and checked me if I can take the test; also assured that it's okay if I can't and do whatever I think is best.

September 29, 2019

I woke up fine and felt that I can physically take the exam mentally and emotionally? NOT. Funny, the first thing I thought of was I a main character somewhere? Is this a punishment for liking manga and anime too much ? Is this somekind of joke that will put me to the verge of my sanity? My body is moving today because for other people isn't it? I took the test, I tried my best, I really did. Was confident of it 1/3 but I know that wasn't enough. All I ever did was prevent my tears from falling and finishing the exam while answering to the best of my intentions.. The plan went well though, it took all of me to ignore the tears the image of my father smiling at me while taking the test. After that, I went home. Six hours on the bus crying only thought that only happened in movies .

October 2019

Imagine the meaning of black hole actively shows the state of where I was.

November 2, 2019

Mama and I went over places to pay homage to our loves ones. Before we went to the cemetery where my lola is buried, we visited the house of my tita. I was in shock we I saw the state she was in .. remembering just a few months ago she was so this little lively lady who loves laughing out loud and having conversations where you two would seem to talk at each other blatantly. But on this day, she had her smile upside down.. lines followed down her face like there were no laughter visited her smile for a long while. Her tears blurred her gray eyes once she saw me and my mama went in to her house. She extended her arms as if she wanted us to take her away but quickly switched into extending as if they were longing to be filled with bodies in between ... it was so sad. Her body was so thin but her grip was loving as ever. Mama and her talked where they were both sure that that was one of the last time that they would talk. It was so heartbreaking ... to witness .. things I couldn’t do with papa . She didn’t want us to go that day but it was raining hard and we had to go to the cemetery and papa’s place. She repeatedly held us and just said our names as if she was reminiscing how we grew up. She forced herself to stand up just to bid us proper goodbye on her doorway. After visiting lola and papa, I told myself that I ...

Tita died yesterday November 13, 2019 ... and being away from Manila I am too useless to show any sign of grief.

I don’t know why I took the time to write this but I guess this helped me sort my feelings out. I’m still flustered and very anxious because the LET results will go out this month. Laughing is a luxury. I don’t even know when was the last time my stomach ached because of laughing my insides out. I get small hehe’s~ time to time but my heart always feel tired.

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amisbro · 7 years

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Breaking down Broccoli’s Messages

(a.k.a. “The Method to the Madness”) Alright SO...since we are less than 2 weeks out for Uta no Prince-Sama’s 7th Anniversary I wanted to go and break down some things that I thought were interesting when it came to both Broccoli (The company that owns the rights to UtaPri) and also Sentai Filmworks who does the distribution here in the US What is going to follow is a rather detailed breakdown of when the series started airing to present and also certain other things that I have found of interest as...it would appear that this “UtaPri detective” might be close to cracking what is Broccoli’s code on June 24th! Ready... Set... GO!

Okay so where do we begin...let’s start on 2011 and 2013...specifically July 2nd of 2011 and then April 3rd of 2013. Now why are we going to use these dates in particular? Here’s why! Have you ever looked up the dates between when the (original) games for the PSP games came out in Japan and the release dates for the Seasons came out? Its really quite fascinating July 2nd, 2011 is when S1 of UtaPri came out and what is interesting about this is that not long after (August 11th of that same year) was the ORIGINAL Repeat that came out on the PSP...a game that I actually own for the system and have to finish at some point but I just haven’t gotten to it yet. At this time also in UtaPri land 3 games had already been released for PSP before the remake of the first one. In order they were The ORIGINAL Uta no Prince-Sama (June 24th, 2010) Amazing Aria (December 23rd, 2010) Sweet Serenade (February 10th, 2011) Now keep this in mind too: These three games released BEFORE S1...what was the reason? The obvious answer (and the very likely one is that they wanted to make sure that they had a lot of stuff to use for STARISH if they wanted to do a series...well they did a Season 1 and then at the “ambiguous” message of “See You Next Time” in the final title card it almost seemed cut and dry after the debut of STARISH in the Anime that they would get to a second series...a second series where the rules changed and we got to start “expansion” of the UtaPri world” BEFORE THAT! Broccoli wanted to make sure that the fans were introduced to new characters outside of the ones they already know (i.e. the STARISH boys, Saotome, Tsukimiya and Hyuuga) so two more games would come out before April 2, 2013 Debut (May 24, 2012...3 days before Maeno’s 30th birthday) All-Star (March 7th, 2013 and became notable for the first game you could date the QN boys) So keep this in mind because its at this point where e get ready also for the second series in April pf 2K13 and NOT ONLY do we meet the QUARTET NIGHT BUT...Shining starts to really show his cunning by subtly introducing a new unit that wanted to take on STARISH but at the time he simply called them “A trio of Amateurs” The Anime comes and we do meet QUARTET NIGHT but during the final 3-4 episodes of ML2K we find out that there is a “rival group” and I seriously hesitate to use that word but others do so let’s go with it for now. The trio, as we find out, is brought on by a competitive and twisted man named Raging Ootori and his son Eiichi is the leader. The group HEAVENS would be the pawns in a twisted match where the loser would be forced to disband. Its at this time you can ask the following question: Is this story going to end after two seasons? OR Do the producers and the people behind the scenes have a “bigger plan” for not just HEAVENS but also STARISH and QN? Well HEAVENS would lose as one would find out and...at the time you might not have been the biggest fan of that trio because Eii came on so strong that contact cement wanted him to chill out and Nagi (at the time) was a brat...I admit this wholeheartedly! The thing was they didn’t end the series with a message like “Thanks for watching” or the “STARISH FOREVER” message that we would see later in this unique setup...no they said “See you next time” which made things rather intriguing! What could broc be planning? Christmas day of 2013 we found out! 12/25/2013 an OVA which has only ever released in Japan called “Shining Star Xmas” was released and it was during the OVA that Reiji convinced the QUARTET NIGHT to work together again because of the inspiration he had gotten from their Juniors (remember that the plot of S2 was SUPPOSED to be that QN and STARISH were Senior/Juniors) and they decided to go and make more music and also take on STARISH. Now let’s pump the brakes because this is where Sentai comes in It was towards the end of 2013 that Sentai announced they had gotten the rights to release S1 and 2 of Uta no Prince-Sama in the US. S1 would release in January and S2 would be in August. I thought it was interesting that they did it this way but then again I am curious if that is a common practice or I’m just losing it! ANYWAYS So S1 and 2 get released here and other songs would come out for the series not Anime related up until about 2015 and during the lead up we would start to get a lot of little hints about the new season that was announced not the least of which would have STARISH doing “cross units” (I fail to see how they were to a degree but I’ll go with it) while the solo idol songs this time around would go TO...my boys of the QN! Fun fact time for this that might not have been in the know: The date of the OR release for season 3 AND the date of this past stage were the EXACT SAME DAY...take a guess which left a better taste in my mouth ANYWHO! So S3 happens with the two groups working to see who would get to appear as the rep for Shining Agency for the Triple S! Wait...what is this and why are they doing this? Alright politic time! So...in 2013 (so this back around S2) the IOC (International Olympic Committee) was selecting the host city for the games of 2020. The three countries that were up for it were Turkey, Spain and the eventual winner which would be Japan to see who would host the games. Japan won and for the past 4 years they have been getting ready for the games and its going to be interesting to see not just how it sets up but also who opens the games as there has been a poll for the public to see which group gets to perform the Opening Ceremony...this is kind of like what would become the storyline between STARISH and QN for at least the 3rd season except...well let’s talk about it During Season 3 a rift would begin to open between STARISH and QN and this was ESPECIALLY the case when they said they would take Haruka if they won (this is the same thing FYI that HEAVENS said or more specifically Eiichi...it was VERY INTERESTING to hear trust me). Now what made this also interesting was towards the end of the season and Reiji made a declaration that they would keep facing STARISH until they surpassed them! Now surely this “moving out of the dorms” couldn’t be game ref right? WRONG See Broc likes to drop things that happen in the GAME WORLD into the Anime...except I think when they leave in the game its under happier terms...I haven’t got that far in the TL yet! we SHOULD mention that the game “All Star After Secret” was released before this series came out. The date of the game was March 12th, 2015 and, to date, is the final PSP game that has been released in the series. the other 2 games on the PSP were both Rhythm Games that were called “Uta no Prince-Sama MUSIC” with (so far) the final game being released on the VITA om January 28th, 2015 NOW we get to have some fun! In the midst of all of this Broccoli DOES announced another Visual Novel game for UtaPri called “Dolce Vita” (Translation: The Sweet Life) which follows the 11 boys after ASAS. Also Broccoli announces a partnership with KLAB who is behind the series “Love Live” and NOW things get interesting because LL: School Idol Festival DOES I believe have an English release...hmm! Back to the Anime At the end of Series 3 HEAVENS reappears as a 7 member group and each member would be a counterpart to a particular member of STARISH (ex: Eiichi/Oto, Masa/Kira, Van/Ren etc.) and they performed HEAVENS GATE again...aight! At the end of the season two things are put up on the screen: “To be continued...” and “SEE YOU NEXT SEASON” Aight...this is interesting! It should also be noted that during the season that Sentai announced licensing S3 (Maji Love Revolutions) but it was interesting that even though they announced licensing it they didn’t release it...why? The answer doesn’t come until after the 2016 season and into this year when they announced that they WOULD release both of them...but about that 2016 season During S3 there were fans that speculated (both on here and facebook) that S3 was it for Utapri...now we forgot that STARISH saved HEAVENS from disbandment for a reason and that became apparent when we got to the end of “R” as the North American license calls it and now that might have come back to bite them. HEAVENS didn’t appear at 5th stage for the announcement but in January of 2016 it was announced that the season would air in October of 2016 which breaks the two year cycle for UtaPri! Up to this point they only did one season every 2 years and now they did this...interesting When Season 4 was announced (called “Legend Star”) what form it would take would be interesting...what we got was a duet season with STARISH and HEAVENS (a proper C-U if i can say that) and then the fun began! for the most part it was an interesting season...especially if you were on the HEAVENS side watching it to see how the boys of HEAVENS were represented. Most of the time they were okay with some genuine sweethearts in ther (hello Eiji, Shion and Van), one that was rough around the edges in Yamato, another that...depends how you want take him in Nagi, Kira was a saint and then Eii...the most controversial of the original trio! What became somewhat clear in HEAVENS is they wanted fans to try and accept them...I already had after a second viewing of S2 but for some it was trickier and I get that! What was interesting was to see if the situation with Eiichi would cause more fans to sympathize...or if they wanted to forever turn against HEAVENS Episodes 9-11 would become one of the bloodiest battlegrounds in an Anime as far as fandoms went. You were either looking for ways to prove (and you had plenty) that Eiichi meant well but he might have just gone a LITTLE TOO FAR and then you had the crew that wanted his head on stick even if there was more evidence that what he did wasn’t completely his fault! Now that not withstanding here is where it gets interesting and this deals in the end cards for the season First off on AniPlus’ facebook page they specifically stated this was the SEASON finale and not SERIES. They actually made that mistake with DRIFTERS when that was getting ready to wrap up and then had to retract it. Crunchyroll also promoted the final episode of YOI as the SERIES finale and who knows...the series MIGHT be over and the Movie is the last you get of it but the way of advertising the final episode towards the end of a few seasons...it was intersting Okay now let’s get really good! So the end cards...let’s recap how they did the end cards for S1-3 1000% - “See You Next Time” 2000% - Same Revolutions - To Be Continued/See You Next Season Legend Star - the “STARISH FOREVER” message and then the Message about the Animation Project Here is what I have found interesting so far For STARISH there have been 4 games where they were the sole focus (remember Debut was only when QN came in but they weren’t playable yet) AS/ASAS were so far the games when QN comes in as playable characters Nothing on HEAVENS...YET! NOW it gets good though After the finale if you went on the twitter for UtaPri they first wished the fans a Merry Christmas from Shining Agency BUT ALSO Raging Agency...I wonder why they also had a message about the new project on their twitter but they used three words that were key I think FROM NOW ON when you read that it almost sounds like both Agencies will be active right? I can jive! Now we get to NOT 5/27 of this year BUT 5/24 which was 3 days before the concert (and the now infamous debacle) It would seem that, when you get to breaking it down so far Broc has been strategic in WHEN they start expanding the UtaPri Universe and HOW they dod it right? There is a reason I bring this up According to the translation of the blog post which was put up three days before the concert it has some interesting wording towards the end “Please watch the development of this work that sets Uta no Prince-Sama Sports and Expansion of this world” Okay...WTF?! THIS POST was brought to my attention by my dear friend @shiningstarish (P.S. Nadie one of these days you have to tell me what that blog title means) and when I read the whole thing which, I will bookmark and if you want the WHOLE translation I will give it to you so you can break it down but I thought it was interesting “Sports”...alright are we getting a sports game in time for the Olympics or... Okay but then there is this “Expansion of this world” THIS...this is interesting Broccoli has NOT introduced a new group into the Game verse since the QN back in May of 2012! Its been over FIVE YEARS since the last “expansion” of the UtaPri universe (so this ends the argument of “milking the franchise” really) so it would stand to reason that the next thing to happen is that HEAVENS would come in to the game world in some way and then a game would come out for them...makes sense right? But hold up...something’s NOT...QUITE...RIGHT! Ahh I think I know what you might be thinking and you would be right See the STARISH and QN characters were given games FIRST and then seasons...HEAVENS went backwards! Here is the theory we can work with Broccoli WANTS to have a game done for HEAVENS...they wouldn’t have made that splash page for June 28th of 2015 with the HEAVENS 7 on a newspaper article if they didn’t AND they wouldn’t do the “White Day” even for them right? So if you read between the lines of the “UtaPri Masters” what can we take from this Broccoli is probably going to be announcing a HEAVENS game in the near future and more than likely it will be either at or around 7th Anniversary thus the “Expansion of this World” line But what about “Sports”? I got to thinking about this and I was thinking that MAYBE they don’t want to announce another rhythm game since they have “Shining Live” to come out BUT what about something in the realm of the “Olympics”? That’s a “Sports” theme right? Maybe part of the “Expansion” could also be that they include all 18 (or 22?) characters in the game and you do different athletic events (which could ALSO explain the episode with Yamato and Syo which was SPORTS THEMED)...am I on to something here?! again EVERYTHING that I just talked about and scoped out is PURE SPECULATION but if I am reading the tea leaves right then June 24th could be a VERY INTERESTING DAY!

#Amisbro #uta no prince sama #7th Anniversay theories #what do you guys think?

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pisati · 5 years

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I was pretty shell-shocked after my dad passed. I knew it was coming for 11 years. but the feeling of permanence didn’t hit me until I reached out and held his hand as he lay where he died; in his bed, cold and stiff. the hospice chaplain said some soothing words I can’t remember. I looked up and I remember a very slight, very deep panic hit me. it wasn’t supposed to be today. I didn’t get to say goodbye. did he know I loved him? where the fuck do you go from here?

we went back the next day to move everything out. my uncle came down from new york to help; my cousin had seen my post about it on facebook and told him, and he called my mom to tell her he was coming. she hadn’t even asked. we didn’t even know where to start. I told mom, just get it out. I know what I want to keep. if I can’t decide now I’ll keep it until I do. mom was clearing off the dining table he’s had for years. she asked me if it was okay to throw out some fortune cookies that had been sitting there amid the clutter. almost definitely from one of our dinners. I don’t know if he ordered from the chinese restaurant next door when I wasn’t there. I started crying almost immediately and shook my head. it really wasn’t okay.

this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I don’t know how we did it in one day. we got lucky to get some junk haulers to come that day (usually they’re booked out well in advance, but of course you can’t predict these things. it was september 26th, and we didn’t want to pay october rent). we loaded up my uncle’s truck and my mom’s car. unloaded furniture at my aunt’s house 15 minutes away. I was stone-faced the entire time. my mom and uncle made a drop-off without me at one point and I sat on the floor and looked at the empty space and cried again. I was just here. he was just here. I was just sitting with his doctor, wheeling him out of his last appointment in his wheelchair. he just joked with the security guy and the lady taking payments for the parking garage. we were just sitting in the bank together, putting my name on his account. I’d just brought him skittles in bed, because he wanted something with flavor. I had a long day, I wanted to get going home. I turned out the lights, left his classical piano radio playing. “love you, sweetie, goodnight”, from his bed. I said “goodnight, love you too”, and held my hand on the doorknob. I paused for a second before I opened it. I don’t know why. maybe somehow I just knew that would be the last time I’d see him alive. at one of his last appointments, I heard his doctor tell him she worried that 4 weeks without chemo would be too long. we tried one last round, but a week in he decided he’d had enough. he made it 5 weeks. and suddenly here I was. in an empty room.

I think we went back the day after that to finish up cleaning things and hand in the keys. we all went to a deli for lunch. I really wasn’t hungry, but I ordered pancakes anyway. safe enough. had to choke back tears once again as I sliced through them, because I realized that I always prep my pancakes the way dad taught me. I even remember him teaching me. butter in between so it melts with the heat, then cut into thirds lengthwise and crosswise. then syrup. I shoveled piece after piece into my mouth so I wouldn’t cry.

I don’t remember the next few days. I remember going to target at one point, not sure if I needed something or not. but I’d found a gift card dad had given me for my birthday the year before and it still had money on it. I wandered the store in a haze, not really looking at anything. I wanted to gift myself something that I would enjoy that reminded me of him; something I feel like he would have given me himself. I found a collection of necklaces and bracelets in the jewelry section; each one was held by a card that had a description of the symbolism. there were some tacky, cheesy ones, like love and faith and a lot of other bullshit you’d see tattooed on a white girl, probably. but the one that stood out to me was a delicate sterling silver necklace with a tiny v-shaped charm at the center, labeled gratitude. “everything comes to you in the right moment. be patient. be grateful.”

I had to go through all his stuff after I brought it home. mom doesn’t like a mess, and everything we’d brought home was sitting on the first floor, taking up almost the whole room. all dad’s paintings, his two computers, his art supplies and cleaning stuff and appliances. everything. he didn’t own much, though, so it was manageable for me. I brought what I thought was the most important stuff up to my room and I sat on the floor and sifted through it to organize it. I shredded a lot of old papers. I didn’t even know he kept all the divorce papers. all the attorney letters. old receipts. but I found important things too, that he and I never looked at together. his high school and college diplomas. his work from college on cancer research (the irony). his old glasses, even from childhood. family history records, dating back to the early 1800s in what is now croatia. so many pictures. letters from his mom, when she and grandpa lived in arizona. I never got to meet them, but I think I really would have liked my grandma. I think I got her smile. she was a gorgeous lady. and sounded so sweet. I found a christmas card from her, and she had written in “you are always in our thoughts, know that you are loved – mom + dad” and I burst into tears again. he’d even kept his baptism certificate, and the little milestone calendar they gave his mom at the hospital when he was born. december 28th, 1945. his little, tiny footprints in ink on the first page.

then I found his birth certificate.

it hit me like a truck. I could hold his birth certificate and his death certificate both in my hands. a whole life between two pieces of paper. and that’s all that’s left. that, the box of ashes at the foot of my bed, and a few storage bins of things, most of which I know he didn’t even care about. I could hear his voice in my head when I couldn’t decide on what to do with something of his: “it doesn’t matter to me, whatever you want to do, sweetie”. is that really it, then? suddenly you’re here, suddenly you’re not? and what is there to show for it?

but the more I think about it, the more I’m determined to say that can’t be it. maybe he was here for a tiny blip on the timeline that is human history. maybe we all are. maybe once his brother is gone and my brother is gone and my mom is gone and I’m gone, it might be like he never existed at all. he’ll be a name in an obituary, a co-author on one research paper that probably isn’t even useful anymore. so it is with everyone who has ever existed, whose faces I’ll never see, whose names I’ll never know. maybe on a grand scale, none of us are important. did he have a purpose here? do I? I know why I’m here. I’m here because my mother always wanted a blonde, blue-eyed little girl, and by 30 she felt her time was running out. she married the first one who’d agree to it, and she got her blonde, blue-eyed little girl. except that’s about all the expectations of hers that I met. she wanted the child in her dreams, she got me. I didn’t ask to be here. nobody did. we all end up here somehow, and we all die.

maybe there is no point. but my dad’s effect– all the words, actions, lessons he taught me– are still with me and always will be. they’re in the way I prep my pancakes. they’re in the way I drive; he was much more patient than my mom and had me from sitting nervous in a parking lot to cruising down the highway in 2 hours; she could barely get me on the road without yelling at me. he taught me the word empathy before I could even understand what it meant. I hope I never forget his laugh or his smile, but if I do, that’s okay, because I’ll know at least that I got to enjoy them at one point in my life. maybe cosmically speaking none of us matter. but my dad means so, so much to me. and maybe that’s what’s more important. mattering to the people that matter. who cares if some person in the distant future doesn’t know who I was? what I did? I’d rather have them know me now, rather than not being able to control the game of telephone that undoubtedly happens through time. how much do we really know about anyone we don’t know personally?

what was the reason my dad was here? who knows. but he still tried to enjoy the little things. he tried to make people laugh, with his weird sense of humor. I just saw on timehop today, 3 years ago, dad had probably called me. it snowed a lot that winter. “this is great packing snow. I asked about 20 people to have a snowball fight and they all refused”. the last few years he only ate sugar-free candies because he said the sugary ones made him kind of sick, but he kept 40-count boxes of fruit gummies at home. he’d take a few in his bag when he’d go places and hand them out to cashiers, bankers, waiters, his nurses and doctors. just to see them smile over something little. once I got a fortune in a fortune cookie from one of our dinners; it simply said “it tastes sweet”. I showed it to him, confused but still slightly amused by it. he said, “that’s life, sweetie. dolce vita.”

sweet life. he’d been depressed and suicidal for years. and yet.

#something else on my mind #probably an appropriate place for this

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