#and from what i gather is a very close representation to what life was like as a queer disabled person in the 70’s

[dreamyzworldlove]

what sucks is that sometimes fandom staples are good but certain fandoms are so weird about the fics and the authors makes them not as appealing if that makes sense

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 26.1k ❧ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies early in the fic, depictions of grieving, family member of the reader is sick (it’s dementia-like, though the disease is never named in the fic), family tension/drama (reader has some family members that are not very nice to her), reader has some sleep/physical health issues at one point, reader is just really going through it in this fic for a while ❧ extra info: the reader’s mom in this has early-onset memory issues; i didn’t name a specific disease because im not a medical expert of any kind and didn’t want to misrepresent any real-life illness in this fic. i combined both my own experiences with my own family members who have had these kinds of illnesses and some research, but i am not an expert and the representation in this fic may not be entirely accurate! ❧ author’s note: i don’t think i’ve done a spooky fic like this before? but this one was super fun! also i will say it takes a little bit for jisung to show up, so please be patient when you don’t see him in the first few scenes, he’ll be there, i promise! ❧ sequel

That night, the rain was still pounding against the windows. Your mom had gone to bed a while ago, but your mind was restless. Something had happened again as you were helping your mom get ready for bed. Your stepdad’s reading glasses, which were on the nightstand on his side of their bed, as they had been since he passed, had fallen off with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Not wanting your mom to get spooked about the house again, you reassured her that you had just bumped into the furniture—her back was turned when they fell—but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

“Hi, Hyukjun.” You picked up the phone call from your stepdad as you headed back towards your office building from the restaurant you’d taken your lunch break at.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?” His warm, familiar voice was on the other end as always, though there was something different about it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on from the quality of your phone speaker. Your steps slowed thoughtfully as you listened more attentively, a pit growing in your stomach.

“I’m good,” you answered shortly, suspicion creeping over you. “How are you two?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate hearing from your stepdad, you were on good terms with him. Your father passed when you were a little girl, and your mom continued to raise you on her own, not even considering any romantic prospects until you graduated high school. She and Hyukjun only dated for six months before marrying and had been happily married since. Hyukjun was a mild-mannered divorcee with three adult sons of his own, all of whom were at least a decade older than you, and none of which you were exceptionally close with. When your mom had been diagnosed only five years into their marriage, he began taking care of her—no question and no complaints. With her condition, you were fairly certain that you visited them more than Hyukjun’s own kids did, despite all of them living nearby to your knowledge.

He at least didn’t beat around the bush anymore. “She’s getting worse, Y/N.”

“How bad?”

“She thinks the house is haunted,” he admitted. “And I…”

“What?” You prompted him.

“She’s been asking for you. I know you’re busy, but if you could visit soon, I think it’d really help her.”

“Yeah, I have some time this weekend,” you agreed immediately. “I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.”

You were arriving at the building then, slowing to a stop outside as you prepared to hang up. “My break is ending, Hyukjun, I’ve got to go.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You looked up at the gray storm clouds gathering in the sky above you. “And tell Mom I love her, and I’ll be there soon.”

“I will. Have a good rest of your day at work, sweetheart.”

“Right. Bye.”

When your mom and Hyukjun got married, you already had a lease on a small place closer to your job in the city, so your mom sold your childhood home and moved in with Hyukjun. Despite the small twinge of sadness at her selling your childhood home, the place where you, your mom, and dad had all been together, you were happy that she was no longer there by herself. Their home was a quaint two-story, two-bedroom townhome, with well-tended flowerbeds and a porch swing out front. A long time ago, you knew that this house had been your stepbrothers’ childhood home, the three of them sharing what was now the guest room, Hyukjun and his ex-wife occupying the primary bedroom that was now his and your mother’s. Hyukjun had been divorced for many years before he met your mom, you didn’t know the exact number off the top of your head—you weren’t sure if you had ever been told.

The snapdragons were in bloom, stalks of purples and blues and pinks, and you squatted down next to one. Feeling a bit like a child, you gently squeezed the sides of one flower to make the “mouth” of the dragon open, like Hyukjun had shown you one of the first times you’d met, the very first time you ever went to his house. The front door opened, and you looked up to see your stepdad stepping out of the house. You stood up, walking up the three short steps from the sidewalk to meet him on their porch.

“I saw you coming up the street,” he explained, gesturing to the front window. “It’s good to see you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Hyukjun.” You hugged him. “Good to see you too.”

“I just wanted to give you a heads up. She’s calm, but she’s not exactly… here,” he explained. “I didn’t want you to be caught off-guard.”

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Following your stepdad into the house, he guided you towards the living room at the back of the house.

“Hon?” He poked his head into the living room.

Your mom looked up from where she had been reading a book in an armchair, her face breaking into a gentle smile. “Oh, Sangwoo, you’re back.”

“Yes, I picked Y/N up, just like you asked.” Your stepdad stepped aside to let her see you.

You pushed aside the alarms going off in your mind to give your mother as calm of a smile as you could, approaching her with your hand outstretched. “Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, hi, sweetie.” She beamed at you, taking your hand that was offered and squeezing it tight. “How was school?”

“It was good, I had a good day,” you answered brightly. Looking down at the book in her lap, you asked, “What are you reading?”

Your mother had been a Literature teacher for all her life, before her diagnosis forced her to retire many years before she ever wanted to. She would read to you at any opportunity when you were a kid, especially at bedtime. It was always easiest to get her talking now about whatever book she was reading, no matter where her mind was.

“Oh, I’ll tell you about it later. First, do you have homework?”

“No, Mom, nothing today.”

Hyukjun cleared his throat then. “You must be hungry, Y/N. Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, yes, go get a snack.” Your mother insisted.

“Okay,” you acquiesced, giving her hand another tight squeeze. “I’ll be right back after my snack. I want to hear about your book.”

In their kitchen, you turned on your stepdad with wide eyes. “She’s not just mixing up your names anymore, she thinks you are my dad!”

“Sometimes…” Hyukjun nodded, leaning against a kitchen counter. “Not always. She has her lucid days still.”

In the bright kitchen lighting, you could see a certain tiredness in Hyukjun that was new, a pallor in his skin, a hitch in his breaths, a lag in his movements, none of which used to be there.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyes locking on his. “With you? You were going to tell me something on the phone, and you didn’t. Tell me.”

He sighed, the sound dragging out into a wheeze and then a hacking cough that he covered in his elbow, and you winced just watching him. When he’d caught his breath again, he answered, “They found a tumor, in my lung. I have maybe six months, Y/N.”

“That’s it?!” You blurted out. “I-I mean, even with chemo, or radiation, or whatever?”

“I’m not—”

“It’s not treatable?”

He cast a sidelong glance down the hall, at the room where your mother was. “Someone needs to take care of her. I need to be here, and after I’m gone, our savings will go towards her care. We can’t spend it all on something that might give me another few months.”

“Another few months with her! With us!” You grabbed his arm, knowing how desperate you sounded. “What about your kids? Do they know what you’re doing?”

“No.” His voice was heavy, but determined. “I know you all don’t talk… but don’t tell them, please.”

His face wavered in your vision as your eyes filled with tears. You tried to swallow them down, but a couple spilled over. “Let me move in, and help. I want to take care of both of you. Please.”

“What about your job?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me. You’ve done enough for me, for us. Let me do something for you.”

“Thank you.”

Your work agreed to let you move into a part-time remote position. Most days you were able to get all your done, early even. Not only was Hyukjun there, but a memory care aide named Nayoung came by for an hour three days a week to assist as well.

It had been a month since you moved into the primary bedroom on the second floor, the bedroom that used to be your mom and stepdad’s. You found out that they moved their things into the guest room on the first floor two months ago, when your mom hurt herself on the stairs. It had only been a skinned knee, but Hyukjun didn’t want to risk something worse.

That night you laid in bed with your laptop open, desperately trying to finish up a report that was due the next day. Today had been rougher, your mom needing constant redirection and reorientation, not to mention the conversation that you had with your stepdad earlier this evening. Usually after your mom went to sleep, the two of you would watch a movie or a couple episodes of a show, or just have a drink and chat. It was a nice, slow, easy part of your day with just the two of you. But this time as you rooted around the for the fresh tub of ice cream that you had just bought from the store, and called to him over your shoulder asking if he wanted a bowl, you saw him waiting for you with papers in his hand.

One of the errands he’d sent you on today, in addition to groceries, the post office, and the pharmacy, had been to an attorney’s office. You’d known that, you weren’t stupid. There, you had been handed a large envelope with the law firm’s name embossed on it, and your stepdad’s name typed on a label under that. You didn’t inquire as to the contents of the envelope from the receptionist, nor your stepdad when you delivered it to him upon returning home. It was none of your business. But at the kitchen table that night, he showed you the documents that he had drawn up.

Once he passed, you would own his house, the one that you lived in now, as a life estate pur autre vie. For the life of another. Until your mother passed, you would own his house, and could stay here and take care of her. Then, once she passed, the house would go to his sons, your stepbrothers, as he’d always intended.

You sighed and deleted the sentence you’d just written. “Stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself. Looking at the time, you let out another sigh and rubbed your face in exasperation. “I’m never going to fucking finish this.”

Setting the laptop aside, you pushed your covers off yourself and got out of bed. Keeping your footsteps light, you crept downstairs and into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. After drinking a whole glass in the kitchen, you refilled it to bring it back up to bedroom with you. Halfway up the stairs, the sconce on the wall next to your head flickered on, making you pause. You’d left all the lights off on your way down. Peering behind the frosted glass cover, you reached your hand back there and tightened the bulb. The light stopped flickering, and you looked around at the empty, dark staircase again. Shrugging to yourself, you finished your journey to your room.

Cutting up your mom’s breakfast into small pieces, you hummed a song that had been stuck in your head. The sound of something clattering startled your peaceful reverie, and your head snapped up immediately. You darted around the kitchen counter to get your eyes on where your mom was sitting at the kitchen table.

“You okay, Mom?” You asked, eyes searching her for any signs of injury or distress.

“Oh, I’m fine, sweetie,” she reassured you, pointing at a point on the floor further away from her. You saw that a silver utensil was gleaming up from the tile. “I dropped my fork, that’s all.”

“I’ll grab you another one when I bring your food in, don’t worry about it,” you reassured her. “Leave it, I’ll pick it up in a sec.”

Returning to the kitchen, you finished cutting her food, then prepared yours and Hyukjun’s plates. Carrying all three of them in, along with your mom’s clean fork, you cocked your head when you saw the fork sitting on the closest edge of the table to the kitchen. Looking at Hyukjun, who had joined your mom at the table in the interim, you said, “You didn’t have to pick up the fork, Hyukjun, I was going to grab it.”

His face betrayed his momentary confusion, looking between the food you just set in front of him, then to the fork on the edge of the table. “That was there when I came in. I didn’t move it.”

As you set your mom’s food down for her, you asked, “Mom, did you get the fork?”

But her eyes had a familiar far-out appearance, and you knew she wasn’t going to be able to answer you. You shook your head at yourself, putting your own plate down and grabbing the dirty fork off the table. Dropping it in the kitchen sink, you then returned to the table to take your seat next to your mother and across from Hyukjun.

You weren’t sure why you were awake at first. Everything seemed quiet, but something didn’t feel right. Sitting up in bed, you checked the time on your phone. 2:48 a.m. You desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but you couldn’t shake the uneasiness in your mind, and so you pushed the covers off of you.

As soon as you were at the top of the stairs, you could hear voices downstairs, your mother’s and your stepdad’s. Your stepdad was clearly trying to keep his voice down, but your mom wasn’t, and she sounded distressed.

“Sangwoo, I’m telling you something’s wrong with this house! We need to go! Where’s Y/N?!” She demanded of him.

“She’s fine, she’s sleeping. Please, tell me what’s wrong with the house, and we can try to fix it,” he pleaded with her quietly.

You finally made it to the hallway just outside their bedroom, taking in the scene of your mom’s wild, scared eyes and Hyukjun’s desperate concern. “Mom, I’m here, I’m okay.”

“Y/N!” She let out a gasp of relief as soon as she saw you. “Oh, you’re okay.”

“Yes, Mom, I’m okay.” You offered her your hand, and she grabbed it tightly. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“I’ve been trying to tell your dad—” She gestured to Hyukjun pointedly. “But this house isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just isn’t right,” she repeated insistently. “What happened to our old house? We need to go back there!”

You looked at Hyukjun desperately, at a loss for words to explain that she sold it years ago. Thankfully, he took over.

“It’s late, hon. We can’t go all the way back to the old house this late at night, especially not with Y/N. It’s not safe,” he persuaded her gently.

She seemed to relax a little at this. “Oh. Right. It’s late.”

“Can you read me something, Mom?” You requested sweetly.

This finally brought a smile to her features, and she nodded, her grasp on your hand turning tender. “Oh, of course, Y/N. I’m sorry I woke you, sweetie.”

“It’s alright, Mom,” you reassured her, leading her back into their bedroom. “Everything’s alright.”

Hyukjun’s funeral was quaint. It was kept to family and close friends, and organized mostly by his sons and ex-wife. You didn’t mind, your mother was in no shape to organize a funeral, and you were more than happy to step aside and support her through this while they dealt with the details.

Today of all days was one of your mother’s better days, possibly one of the best that she’s had in a while, and you didn’t know if that was better or worse. Better, you decided, so she could say goodbye to him properly. After the small funeral was the wake, held at Hyukjun’s home—which was now your home, you realized—and was a more open-door affair. Your mom’s memory care aide, Nayoung, came as well, which you were glad for. While your stepbrothers and their mother played host more than you, greeting guests as they showed up, chatting and reminiscing with them about all their shared memories of Hyukjun from years or even decades ago, it was still your residence, and you couldn’t bring yourself to just stay in a corner. Hyukjun had been your family too, for however brief a period of your life.

You were alone in the kitchen getting refreshments for yourself, your mom, and Nayoung when you sensed that you weren’t by yourself. Turning around, you did in fact see your stepbrothers entering the kitchen, followed by their mother.

You offered them all a small, polite smile. “Hi.”

“Glad we caught you, Y/N,” the oldest brother flashed you a grin. “You got a sec?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“We know it must be really tough for you, taking care of your mom by yourself now,” their mother said, her voice coated in an over-the-top sugary sweet sympathy.

You shrugged noncommittally. “Nayoung helps.”

The youngest jumped in, “We just wanted you to know that you and your mom can take as much time as you need to move out.”

“Of course, of course,” their mother agreed. “You know, a week or two.”

They all nodded and murmured in agreement, focusing the same overeager, empty, sympathetic faces on you that made you feel like you were surrounded by some kind of predator that wanted to empathize you to death. Steeling your nerves, you met all of their eyes in turn as you went to answer.

“We’re not moving out.” You informed them firmly. “Hyukjun left the house to me to keep taking care of my mom. After… it’s all yours.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you’ll just give it to us?” The youngest scoffed, immediately dropping his kind, caring act. All of their faces were somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“No, he set it up that way. You can get your copies of the papers from his attorney, Mr. Shin.” You brought out the business card for the attorney who drafted the papers. You’d tucked it into your wallet absentmindedly when it’d been given to you on your initial errand from Hyukjun, and you were glad you hadn’t had the time to clean out your wallet since. You set the business card down on the counter between you.

The oldest snatched up the card. “There’s no way…”

“We’re going to fight this. No way the house is yours,” the youngest swore.

The middle son spoke finally, his gaze hard as he glared at you. He practically snarled, “You’re not his family, you’ve never been.”

“It was good seeing you all again,” you said, no emotion in your voice. Abandoning your three glasses, you scooted around the counter, then around them, heading towards the kitchen door that they had been blocking the whole time. “Please have all communications about the property go through Mr. Shin. He’ll be able to answer your questions better than I can.”

Crying at a wake was normal. Encouraged even. But you weren’t amongst loved ones, remembering someone you’d lost. You were alone, sitting at the top of the stairs in the dark, crying into your arms to muffle your sobs as you tried to compose yourself from the confrontation you’d just survived. Barely. Your hands were balled into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice caught your attention, gentle, then hushed as he seemed to be speaking to himself, “Why are you asking that? Stupid, stupid.”

You picked your head up out of your arms, quickly wiping the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you spotted a young man at the bottom of the stairs. He had dark hair and was dressed in a pair of black pants, a white shirt, and what looked like a black cardigan over the shirt. You didn’t recognize him from the wake, but you hadn’t greeted everyone, nor did you know all the mourners personally. Many were either family friends of Hyukjun’s from before he met your mother, old colleagues, or distant relations.

Sniffling and trying to right your clothes, you offered him as much of a smile you could muster, “I’m sorry, it’s uhm, been a long day.”

He froze, his eyes locking on yours and going wide. The man looked behind him, as if expecting you to have been addressing somebody else, and upon seeing an empty hallway, he turned back to you and hesitantly replied, “That’s… okay. Are you alright?”

“Oh, as alright as I can be, I suppose,” you admitted, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve again. You weren’t sure why you were telling this random man that, but he had spotted you sobbing at a wake, so there wasn’t much of a point in covering that fact up. “Were you looking for the bathroom or…?”

“No, just stretching my legs.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t think I saw you at the funeral. How did you know my stepdad? Family friend?”

“Yeah, I was around when his kids were growing up.”

“Oh, are you a childhood friend of his sons or something?”

“Friend is a stretch, I think,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as well, adding a polite but hollow, “I’m sure they appreciate you coming out to pay your respects.”

As he shifted on his feet, the shadows on his face lessened, letting you see his features better. You furrowed your brow with interest.

“How old are you? I mean—You don’t look older than me, you must’ve been much younger than them growing up.”

“I-I mean, we weren’t very close,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Feeling bad about putting him on the spot in this sort of scenario, you offered him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I didn’t grow up with my stepbrothers, so I guess it’s a bit hard for me to imagine them having friends—Oh!”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you slapped a hand over it, wishing you hadn’t said them, especially not to some stranger, who for all you know could turn right around and repeat it to your stepbrothers. That would be the last thing you needed, to give them another reason to hate you, and by extension, your mother.

“That didn’t come out right!” You desperately tried to backpedal, holding your hands out in front of you. “I-I meant that I haven’t met a lot of their friends, since our parents got together later in life, and—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured you calmly, taking a couple hesitant steps up the stairs. You scooted over to make room for him to sit next to you on the top step. He pressed himself against the banister, leaving plenty of space between you two. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard some of what they said to you in the kitchen.”

“I would normally be upset at you for eavesdropping, but I’m kind of glad that somebody else heard some of the shit they said to me this time,” you chuckled cynically.

“‘This time?’” He repeated questioningly. “Are they always like that to you?”

“I don’t see them that often. I think the first time I met the middle son was at the wedding, actually,” you said. “They started spending more holidays with their mom instead of Hyukjun when my mom… after her diagnosis.”

“Oh.”

“God, sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all this shit.” You shook your head at yourself. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Jisung.”

“Y/N.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s true. You and your mom are his family, too.”

You messed with the sleeves of your shirt as you stared at the bottom step, gnawing on your bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste of blood when you broke skin. Finally, once you’d swallowed down the lump in your throat, you replied with a tight, “Thanks. And I mean, I understand why they would be upset. Their dad just died and two people who are essentially strangers to them are now living in their childhood home. Of course they feel weird about it.”

“That’s... gracious.”

“It’s true. And like I said, their dad died, they deserve some grace.” From elsewhere in the house, you could hear your mom calling your name, and immediately jumped to your feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“I understand.” Jisung nodded to you. “It was nice talking to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for listening, Jisung.” You waved to him over your shoulder as you rushed down the stairs and off in the direction of your mother’s voice.

The next day, you had habitually started preparing three plates of breakfast before you caught yourself. In the first couple days after his passing, it was painfully in the foreground of your mind with everything you did, but this was the first time you’d found yourself going about a daily task and it had slipped your mind. You left the full plate of food in the kitchen to clean up later, and took just yours and your mom’s plates to the kitchen table.

“Do you want to go on a walk after breakfast?” You proposed as you ate.

It was something that Hyukjun and your mom did every morning. Sometimes you joined them, but usually you took the opportunity to clean up around the house or get work done in the quiet. Your mother had no trouble ambulating, it was her mind that was going faster than anything else. With Hyukjun no longer here to walk with her, you didn’t want her to lose that precious time going out, or the exercise. Not to mention, you needed to get out of the house again.

“Oh, I’d love to, sweetie,” she agreed with a smile, one that you noticed didn’t reach her eyes.

“After we’re done, I’ll clean up while you get ready.”

As you scooped the extra food into a plastic container at the end of breakfast, you realized the lid that you’d grabbed was the wrong size. Opening the cabinet that contained all the plastic containers, you squatted down with a sigh, mentally preparing yourself to ransack through the absolute mess that greeted you down there. Hyukjun normally kept it meticulously organized, all containers accompanied by their proper lids, but in your rush to clean up after everyone left the wake late last night, you had effectively ruined all of it.

You tried to just look under a haphazard stack of plastic containers, and they of course all came crashing out onto the kitchen floor. You groaned, plopping down onto your butt as you got ready to have to put them all back. But as you went to pick up the first one, an overwhelming, crushing feeling of loneliness and sorrow hit you like a bus, and you covered your face as you started sobbing. The hot tears stung your eyes, every shaking breath you took hurt your chest, and even the task of putting the tupperware back seemed impossible and monumental now.

Rubbing one of your eyes, you inhaled and forced yourself to grab just one container to put back. “Come on, don’t have time for this.”

Slowly, you put the containers away, until there was one lid left that had slid much further away from you. You crawled over to it, realizing the shape seemed familiar as you held it in your hands. Standing back up, you fitted it over the container of leftovers you had perfectly.

“Huh.” Your sobs petered out as you looked down at it curiously. “That could’ve been easier.”

Throwing open the front door, you grunted as you hauled your heavy grocery bags into the home.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Nayoung’s voice called out. She had increased the frequency and duration of her visits since Hyukjun’s passing, and today you took the opportunity to do some much-needed restocking of the kitchen during her stay.

“Yeah!” You yelled back.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m fine!” You hopped on one foot as you tried to wedge your other foot behind the door to close it. “Just—Shit!”

The door suddenly came loose, slamming closed even harder than you had opened it. Nayoung came around the corner with wide eyes, looking rather startled.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, taking a couple bags from your hands, looking you over inquisitively.

You looked between your still-raised foot and the door, a bit dumbfounded. You swore you hadn’t kicked it that hard. This wasn’t actually your house, after all.

“Yeah, Nayoung, I’m okay,” you reassured her, leading the way into the kitchen. “Do you have a window open? There must be a cross-breeze or something.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

It was pouring rain outside, the sky dull and gray, occasionally lit up with flashes of lightning. The constant pounding downpour was interspersed with cracks of thunder that would rattle frames on the walls. The weather was so bad that Nayoung couldn’t even make it out, leaving just you and your mom all day. It wasn’t so bad, today was a better day for her. She was calm at least, despite the weather, absorbed in her books for most of the day. Maybe a little too absorbed, as it was hard to tear her away for meals or snacks. But you could get your work done and do chores around the house uninterrupted, and once you finished your own to-do list, you were able to sit down in the living room with her and read as well.

After a particularly bright flash of lightning, followed by a boom of thunder that made you feel like you were in a low-level earthquake rather than a thunderstorm, the lights went out entirely. You heard the telltale clatter of your mom dropping her book in surprise as she gasped.

“Mom?” You called out to her, both to check on her and so she knew that you were still there.

“I’m okay, sweetie,” she promised. “I just got startled and dropped my book.”

“Stay there,” you directed her, pulling out your phone and turning on your flashlight. You could see that her book had skidded some distance away from her, out of arm’s reach. “I’ll check the breaker. Don’t get up, I don’t want you tripping over anything.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

Opening the utility closet in the laundry room, you threw your hands up in exasperation as you looked over the circuit breaker. You had no fucking clue what you were doing. Right as you had turned on your phone, fully intent on searching the internet for what the fuck you were supposed to do now, the power came back on all on its own.

“Well, there we go!” You called out through the house, starting back towards your mom. “I’m a genius!”

Upon your return to the living room, you stopped when you noticed one key difference: The book was no longer on the floor. It was on the side table next to your mom. There was no way your mom could’ve moved fast enough to have gotten the book and then sat back down in the time since the lights turned back on.

You sighed gently. “I told you not to get up, Mom.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how’d the book get there?” You pointed to the book knowingly.

“I didn’t—” She looked at it curiously, then at where it used to be on the floor. “Oh… I guess I must’ve… Sorry, sweetie.”

You walked over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m sorry if I seemed upset with you. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

She patted your hand. “I know, Y/N. You’re doing a good job.”

The rain was still pounding against the windows that night. Your mom had gone to bed a while ago, but your mind was restless. Something had happened again as you were helping your mom get ready for bed. Hyukjun’s reading glasses, which were on the nightstand on his side of their bed, as they had been since he passed, had fallen off with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Not wanting your mom to get spooked about the house again, you reassured her that you had just bumped into the furniture—her back was turned when they fell—but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

You’d pocketed the glasses instead of replacing them on the nightstand, and were staring at them on the kitchen counter now, fondly remembering the way he used to peer at you over the lenses as he read the newspaper in the morning and you made sarcastic quips about whatever headlines were on the pages facing you.

“Hyukjun?” You said his name into the empty air, uncertainty making your voice waver. After a beat of silence, you hissed, “Of course you weren’t going to get a reply, stupid, stupid.”

Trying to gather yourself, you moved to open the freezer, securing the tub of ice cream from inside it. Sitting at the kitchen table with two spoons, you set one in front of Hyukjun’s spot across from you. Glumly spooning some ice cream into your mouth, you barely tasted it as you stared at his empty chair.

“I miss you,” you said softly, not expecting an answer this time. “A lot. It’s not fair. I know that’s what your sons think, it’s not fair that it was you and not her. But… it’s not fair that we only got… so little time with you.”

You sniffled against the oncoming tears, eating another spoonful.

“I wish… I wish my mom had met you earlier, I wish you didn’t leave us so soon, I wish we got more time…” You looked down at the tub in front of you, your appetite gone. “And I wish I wasn’t eating your favorite ice cream by myself.”

You stood back up, taking both spoons with you into the kitchen. Dropping them into the sink to deal with in the morning, you put the ice cream away and shut off the kitchen lights. You left his glasses on the kitchen counter, deciding you would put them back in your mother’s room tomorrow. As you headed up the stairs, you paused at the top step, a memory of Hyukjun’s wake coming back to you. The nice guy who sat with you and listened to you. You really wished you could have somebody to talk to again.

Something in you made you look over your shoulder then, back down at the bottom step. You swore a darker shape was standing there, unclear in the night. Your heart rate spiked.

“Hyukjun…?” You whispered, hesitantly going down one more step to try to make out what you were seeing better. The shadow seemed to back up one step at the same time you did that, and another name came to your mind.

“Jisung?”

The figure moved closer, a beam of moonlight illuminating half of his shocked face. “You remember me?”

You should’ve yelled. You should’ve shouted at him to get out, called the police, any number of things ahead of what you actually did. Getting even closer, you nodded slowly. “Of course I remember you, Jisung.”

He was still staring at you in disbelief. “And you can see me? Again?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, standing on the step right above him. “You’re a ghost.”

It was meant to be a question, but it came out like a statement, like you had known all along, just saying common knowledge.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

You peered at the space around and behind him. “Is my stepdad here?”

“No.” He shook his head. “He wanted to stay, for your mom. I told him if he stayed, he could get stuck. He decided to go.”

“Go… where?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What about…” You looked up into his dark eyes hopefully. “Is my dad here?”

“It’s just me,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad he’s not… stuck. Either of them.” You breathed out, a mixture of relief and disappointment in your chest. Remembering what he told you at the wake, you asked, “You used to live here?”

“Before your stepdad bought it, yeah.”

You recalled the surprise on his face both tonight and at the wake when you addressed him. “You’re not used to being seen, are you?”

“No, I’m not. You’re the first person who’s seen me since…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek as he seemed to be picking his words. “Since I’ve been like this.”

You nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. “Have you been… helping? Picking up my mom’s book? And closing the door? And the tupperware lid and the fork?”

Jisung nodded fervently. “I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you sad. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you.”

“What about Hyukjun’s glasses today? Did you knock those off?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It was an accident… They were really close to the edge, I didn’t want them to fall off and break. So I tried to move them away from the edge, but there was this thunder, and I dropped them.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the mental image of a ghost getting spooked by thunder, slapping a hand over your mouth as you giggled. Jisung wasn’t laughing, but he did have a soft smile on his features as he looked at you.

“Sorry, sorry,” you were still chuckling as you tried to compose yourself.

“It’s okay…” He assured you. “I’m sorry for dropping them.”

“You didn’t break them, it’s fine.” You looked at him thoughtfully. He was wearing the same thing he was wearing when you met him at the wake, dark pants, dark shoes, a white button-up, and dark cardigan. You tilted your head curiously. “Are you sure my mom hasn’t seen you? She swears the house is haunted, you know.”

“I think she can tell that something is… off, sometimes. But no, she’s never seen me.”

“I’m guessing you have no clue why I can see you right now?” You surmised. “They don’t exactly give you a ghost handbook, do they?”

Jisung shook his head. “No, I don’t know.”

“Thank you again, by the way. For being so nice to me at the wake.”

“They really shouldn’t have been talking to you like that.” He frowned. “They have no clue… He loved you and your mom so much. You two are his family, too.”

You chuckled sadly. “So did you actually hear all of it, then?”

“I was already in there when they went in after you,” he confirmed. “I thought you might… I could create a distraction in another room if it got bad.”

“Do you do that a lot? Follow me around?”

His eyes widened as he clearly began to panic, shaking his head fervently. “N-Not like that! Only like, in normal places! I mean, like, there’s not a lot to do when you’re a ghost stuck in a house, and I think you’re cool—Oh god, I meant, uhm, I mostly stay on the first floor, promise!”

You couldn’t help but giggle again as he had missed the light teasing in your tone. “Mostly?”

Jisung visibly gulped. “I woke you up one time, when your mom was having a really bad time in the middle of the night and your stepdad couldn’t calm her down. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Jisung, it’s okay,” you tried your best to be reassuring, even as you let out choked laughter. “I don’t expect you to sit in a corner for eternity. Thanks for staying in normal places.”

“Thanks for not being creeped out…” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. After it passed, you gave Jisung a sheepish smile. “If I go to sleep right now… will I still be able to see you in the morning?”

“You… want to?”

“Yeah.” You smiled and shrugged. “Better than just talking to my mother, Nayoung, and myself like I usually do every day.”

The corners of his lips twitched as he went to nod. “I’ll try to be here in the morning. You should go to sleep.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Jisung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Halfway up the stairs, you turned back around to see him still standing at the bottom, watching you. You threw back a teasing, “Promise you’ll stay on the first floor?”

“Cross my heart.” He made an X over the left side of his chest.

“Not sure how much that’s worth coming from a ghost,” you grinned. “But I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

In the morning, you sat with your feet dangling over the edge of your bed for an extra few seconds, very calmly contemplating your sanity. You had been spending the majority of your time in this house, talking to nobody else except your mother and Nayoung, who came five days a week for three hours at a time, your only other regular human interaction coming in the form of emails or the occasional phone calls with your co-workers. Was it really so unlikely that your brain was inventing someone new for you to talk to? How could you even determine if he was real or not? Did that even really matter?

With a sigh, you got to your feet and shuffled into your bathroom. Your mom had always been an early riser, something that hadn’t changed now, and you had to take care of your own morning routine before she woke up. While the shift in your schedule initially took some getting used to, the daily alone time that you got to devote to your own self-care was something you treasured, and helped you start your day in a good headspace.

Coming out of your bedroom refreshed and in clean clothes, you meandered down the stairs, listening for any signs of life in the rest of the house. If your mom was up, she would at least be moving around her room, if not elsewhere in the house. And then there was the possibility of seeing the ghost again.

Right as you reached the bottom of the stairs, your mom’s bedroom door opened, and she poked her head out. You smiled and walked over to her.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She took your arm, looking around the hallway.

“You okay?”

“Did he go out?”

You tilted your head, keeping your tone light as you asked, “…He?”

“Hyukjun,” she answered. “He usually leaves a note.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah, he had some errands, said he’ll be back soon. You can get on him about forgetting your note when he gets back.”

Her features relaxed, and she rubbed your back. “Thanks, Y/N. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

There was a knock on the front door then, and you went to go open it up for Nayoung. As she helped your mom with the rest of her morning, you headed towards the kitchen to start on breakfast. A figure was already at the kitchen table, however, his back to you as he sat in the fourth chair that had always been empty for as long as you’d been in the house. Jisung turned around when he heard your footsteps, giving you a small wave.

“Morning,” you smiled and nodded, hoping you didn’t look too put-off. You weren’t sure if you would’ve been more surprised if he was here or not.

“Good morning.” His eyes followed you as you continued into the kitchen. From his seat, he could still see you over the kitchen counter. His hands were folded politely in his lap, and he watched you as you started pulling out ingredients for breakfast.

“So, what do you do all night?” You questioned. “Do you sleep?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I read, or look at the moon, or think.”

“I think I’d hate being alone with my thoughts for eternity.” You shook your head, bringing down plates from the cabinet.

“It’s not so bad.” Jisung shrugged. “I wasn’t much of a talker before anyway.”

“An introvert?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head curiously. “You don’t normally cook for Nayoung.”

You looked down at the plates in your hand and realized that you had grabbed three instead of the normal two. Nayoung always ate breakfast before coming over, so you just had to make food for you and your mom. You’d done this before, accidentally making a serving for Hyukjun out of habit, but you knew that wasn’t what happened this time.

Putting the extra plate back, you said, “No, I was… I think I was about to make you a plate. Felt like I had a guest over.”

Surprisingly, this made Jisung crack a smile. “I appreciate it. Your food always looks good.”

“I don’t think it’s anything special.” You shrugged, turning on the stove. “I learned to cook from my mother, we just did it to survive. Hyukjun was a much better cook than either of us.”

“To survive?”

“After my dad passed…” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of how to phrase it, pushing around food in the pan. “She sort of closed up. My mom gave me a good life growing up, don’t get me wrong. But it’s hard being a single parent, and she never really made any friends, she spent all her time taking care of me or working. Then when I moved out, she closed up even more. I was kind of afraid she’d close all the way up, until she met Hyukjun.”

“I see…”

You heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and halted your conversation. Nayoung and your mom entered the kitchen dining area just a few moments later, paying Jisung no mind, clearly not seeing him at all.

“Y/N, were you on the phone?” Your mother asked as Nayoung guided her to her usual seat.

Nayoung took Hyukjun’s old place beside her.

“Oh, yeah, work call,” you fibbed. “Something urgent, couldn’t wait until I clocked in, I guess.”

“That’s inconsiderate.”

You chuckled, then looked to the aide. “Coffee, Nayoung?”

“If you’re making some, please.”

“Was just about to start a pot.”

Sitting down at the full table with your food and coffee in front of you, your mother to your left, Nayoung across from you, and Jisung to your right, you couldn’t help but smile, an odd sense of peace settling in your chest that hadn’t been there in quite some time.

That night, after your mother went to sleep, you traipsed into the kitchen, opening up the freezer. Turning to Jisung with the carton of ice cream in your hand, you said, “I don’t suppose you could help me with this?”

“Unfortunately not,” he chuckled.

“Figured I would ask,” you sighed, grabbing a spoon. “Come on, I’m thinking a movie?”

Curled up in the corner of the couch under a blanket, you had just opened the ice cream when you realized you left the remote on the coffee table out of your reach. Jisung was still standing, seeming unsure of where to sit.

“Can you pass me the remote?” You requested, stretching an arm out towards it but ultimately not reaching it.

“Oh, sure, sure.” He picked it up with ease just like you would, handing it off to you.

“Thanks.” You turned the TV on. He was still standing, so you gestured to the rest of the empty couch. “Sit, Jisung.”

“Right,” he mumbled, taking a seat next to you.

“You haven’t seriously been standing there like that this whole time, have you?”

“I… sit sometimes, yeah.”

“Good.” You patted his arm—or you tried to pat his arm, but instead your hand hit the back of the couch, a cold shiver running up your arm starting at your fingertips. You jerked your hand back in alarm, eyes going wide. “Shit! Sorry! Did I just like, smack your lung or something?”

Jisung laughed hard, his nose scrunching up and his hand flying up to cover his mouth as he giggled. “I’ve never thought of it like that. I don’t—I don’t think so, no.”

“It didn’t like, hurt, did it?”

“No. Feels a little weird, like… Ah, I don’t know how to describe it if you’re still corporeal. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay good,” you breathed out. Looking down at the remote in your hand, you frowned thoughtfully. “How come you could grab this just fine, but I just go through you?”

“It used to happen with objects, too,” he informed you, reaching his hand out towards the coffee table. The ghost moved it down, his hand effortlessly gliding through the table just like yours had gone through him a few moments earlier. “I can control it now. But for some reason, people, I still can’t.”

“That sounds… lonely.”

Jisung shrugged, offering you a sort of sad smile. “Hey, I just spent a few decades not being seen or heard by anybody either. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Alright, what are we feeling?” You hummed as you pulled up the streaming service. “Ghost movie?”

He gave you a skeptical look. “You hate horror movies. You made Hyukjun turn all the lights in the house on when he put ‘Saw’ on.”

“Aw come on, no laugh? Not even a chuckle? Ironic scoff?” You wrinkled your nose at him.

“I’m laughing on the inside.”

“I was very brave for watching it all, though, wouldn’t you agree?” You grinned, grabbing a big spoonful of ice cream.

Jisung’s amused smile was apparent that time. “Very. If I had gold stars to give out, you’d get one.”

“Okay, what about ‘The Batman’? The one with Robert Pattinson, I literally don’t care about the other ones.”

“I’m not sure who that is, but sure.”

“Jisung, I’m about to change your afterlife. Possibly for the worse.”

From when you woke up to when you went to sleep, if you were at home, Jisung was usually around. You found that you didn’t mind his presence, if anything it was comforting, he made the house feel less empty than it would be with just you and your mother—and occasionally Nayoung. You had to catch yourself from talking to him when your mom or Nayoung were within earshot, or looking too obviously at where he was standing or sitting when they were in the room. Your evenings that you used to spend with Hyukjun were now spent with the ghost, watching shows or movies, showing him your favorite music, or just talking.

This morning, as your mom bathed herself and Nayoung waited for her in her bedroom, just in case, you had some extra time. Which you were glad for, as you knew you were moving slow, feeling more like a zombie than a functioning human being as you prepared breakfast. You yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand before gripping the tomato again and continuing your cuts.

“So what—”

“Y/N!” Jisung’s cry of warning came before you registered your tomato juice-slickened fingers slipping down the food and under the blade.

You looked down to see crimson red welling up and joining the tomato’s seeds at the same time you felt coldness on your hands. Jisung had tried to grab you, both too late, and in an ill-fated attempt even if he hadn’t been, as his hands went right through yours. You belatedly hissed as your sleep-slogged mind finally registered the pain, made extra by the sting of tomato juice in the cuts. Jisung swore under his breath as he grabbed a kitchen towel instead, wrapping it around your fingers and pressing hard as his other hand knocked the knife out of your uninjured fingers that were still lamely holding it. He reached over to turn the sink on, and pulled you over there by the grip he had on the towel. He couldn’t move your hand under the water once he took the towel off, though, staring at you pointedly.

“Right,” you mumbled, putting your fingers under the stream of the faucet to rinse the cuts clean of tomato guts. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“What—” He was cut off by the doorbell ringing.

You hurriedly ripped off a wad of paper towels to press to your cut, calling out to Nayoung, “I’ll get it!”

You knew Jisung was following you, not bothering to keep his sighs quiet as you peered through the peephole first—habit. A pit formed in your stomach when you recognized the man standing on your doorstep immediately.

Forcing your features into a pleasantly neutral expression, you opened the door just enough to greet your eldest stepbrother. “Good morning, Seohyuk.”

He fixed you with the same wide, dazzling grin that he always had, one that made you think he should be doing real estate instead of whatever his real job was—investment broker or something. He was in a suit, looking like he had stopped by on his way to work. You bit back the urge to look down at your own lounge clothes and hair still damp from your shower.

“Y/N! Good morning!” He was still beaming. “Looking beautiful as always.”

“Can I help you?” You asked politely, stepping onto the porch and forcing him to back up a step off the welcome mat, keeping one hand on the door handle.

He then seemed to have noticed your hand. “Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Nicked myself with a knife in the kitchen just now. I’m fine,” you shrugged off his concerns. “Why are you here?”

“Oh my god! We should go in and get that washed out!” His hands fluttered over you with feigned worry, trying to usher you back into the house, put you stayed put, firmly shutting the front door behind you.

“I already washed it out,” you informed him flatly. “What do you want?”

The expressiveness immediately dropped off his face, and a cool, suave smirk overtook it as he sized you up. “Alright. Big girl can handle herself.”

“We’re both adults, Seohyuk, I’d appreciate it if you can act like one and get to your point.”

“Funny, my dad never seemed to think you were one,” he sneered. “You were the little princess he never got to have.”

“If this is all you came for, I’m going back inside,” you sighed, reaching for the handle again.

“I came to inspect the property.” He finally gave you his reason, holding his chin up. “As is my right, to make sure you’re not letting it go to ruins. So you have to let me in.”

Right, as if the house could’ve fallen to the wayside and become dilapidated in a week. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. It was easier like this, just one of them. Especially Seohyuk, he didn’t have a temper like his younger brothers, nor did his words cut as deep as his mom’s, he was just… a jerk. You could deal with a jerk.

“And, as I’m sure you saw when you continued reading the papers, you have to give me at least twenty-four hours’ notice before conducting any inspection of the property. So, I will see you in twenty-four hours.” You grabbed the door handle again. “Goodbye, Seohyuk.”

You didn’t wait for his response, rushing inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You locked it up as quick as you could, not wanting to take any chances.

“You’re not seriously going to let him come in here?!” Jisung blurted out, wide eyes focused on you. Of course he heard everything again.

As you opened your mouth to answer, Nayoung stepped out your mom’s room hesitantly, worried eyes focused on you. You turned to her instead, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Is there anything I can do, Y/N?” She asked quietly. You didn’t want to know how much she had heard.

“I’ll try to arrange it so the inspection is during your time. If she’s up for it tomorrow, could you take my mom on a walk? I need to be here, and she really shouldn’t be.”

The aide nodded quickly. “Of course, yes.”

Back in the kitchen, Jisung pulled the first aid kit down, and you applied your own bandages to the cuts on your fingers. You could feel his eyes boring holes into your hair as you bowed your head to pay extra close attention to your injuries.

“Y/N—”

“What did you want me to do, Jisung?” You hissed, not meaning for it to come out as venomous as it did. “They’re entitled to inspect the premises, it’s technically also kind of their house. I would’ve been in bigger shit if I told him no!”

The ghost was quiet, and when you finally looked up, you saw the hurt on his own face. You sighed, throwing away the bloody paper towels and bandage wrappers. Rolling out your shoulders and your neck to relieve the tension that had built up there, you loosely wrapped your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I’m not mad at you, none of this is your fault. I’m just… stressed, and I slept like shit last night. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he reassured you. “I just… hate the idea of you and that guy being in this house by yourselves, you know? I don’t trust him.”

“Oh, we won’t be alone.”

“I know I’ll be here, but that’s not the same as having someone who could actually do something.”

“I know you’ll be here, and that’s reassuring,” you replied, an amused smile playing at your lips. “But that’s not entirely what I meant.”

“Mr. Shin, thank you for coming on such short notice,” you greeted the attorney with a polite bow, welcoming him into the house.

Mr. Shin was an older man, around Hyukjun’s age, with salt and pepper hair, who hastily returned the bow. He wore a simple black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie, thick-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he held his black briefcase tightly to his side. He was exactly as you pictured him from speaking to him on the phone yesterday—when you picked up Hyukjun’s papers, you’d only dealt with his secretary.

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s my duty,” he replied briskly. “Your stepbrother has not arrived yet, has he?”

“No, I’m expecting Seohyuk in a few minutes.”

“Good, good.”

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?”

“No, thank you, I couldn’t intrude.” He shook his head fervently. “Your mother isn’t home, is she?”

“She stepped out for a walk just before you arrived. She doesn’t need to be here, does she?”

“No, no, not at all.” He seemed relieved at this news, if anything.

The doorbell rang then, and you smiled at the lawyer. “That should be him.”

Looking out the peephole first, it was in fact Seohyuk. You opened the door wider than yesterday, offering him a polite smile. “Good morning, Seohyuk.”

“Alright, Y/N, it’s been twenty-four hours, let me in.” He skipped pleasantries entirely, a glare already on his features.

“Of course.” You obliged gracefully, opening the door all the way for him.

He obviously hadn’t seen anybody else, as he faltered upon stepping inside and spotting Mr. Shin in the entryway. It was as if a magic spell had been cast on him, Seohyuk straightened up, adjusting his own tie and throwing on his charming smile, offering a hand out to him. “Kim Seohyuk, nice to meet you.”

Mr. Shin once again bowed formally, ignoring the hand in front of him. “Attorney Shin. I’m the lawyer in charge of your father’s estate, and I’ll be overseeing this inspection.”

“Great. Yeah, I’m glad Y/N remembered to call you like we talked about,” Seohyuk lied through his teeth, keeping his voice casual. “She’s been a little all over the place with taking care of her mom by herself since Dad passed, so I offered to, but she insisted she would do it since she only works part-time now.”

You clenched your jaw to not call him a piss-poor liar to his face. Or punch him in the face. His ‘she’s a mess, but we love her’ tone really irked you. Jisung had been lurking in the corner the whole time with his arms crossed over his chest and chose now to mimic choking Seohyuk—it took everything in you not to burst out laughing, but it successfully dissolved the anger that had been bubbling in your veins.

Mr. Shin either didn’t believe him or didn’t care, as he simply nodded and then looked to the both of you. “If there are no questions, we will begin in the kitchen.”

The inspection was uneventful—you passed with flying colors, of course—and at the end, you got to see both Mr. Shin and Seohyuk out at the front door simultaneously.

“I will be making note of this in the estate’s file, of course,” Mr. Shin said in closing. “So as to not intrude on Ms. Y/L/N and her mother too much, inspections are limited to once per year, as you know.”

“What?!” Seohyuk’s jaw dropped. “Th-That’s per person, right? Like, if my brothers wanted an inspection—”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Kim. One inspection of the property per year. Unless good cause is shown.”

“Good cause? Like what?”

“If there is some damage externally that would lead you to believe Ms. Y/L/N has caused similar damage internally, or if she posted pictures to her social media of the inside that showed some damage. Something like that.”

You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing in Seohyuk’s face as his jaw gaped open like a dead fish. After composing yourself, you gave the both of them a cheerful wave. “So I guess I’ll see you two next year.”

“And hopefully not any sooner!” Mr. Shin confirmed, bowing deeply once more.

You closed the door with a satisfying click. Turning back around to Jisung, you finally burst into laughter with him. He pumped his fist victoriously. “Gone until next year!”

Holding your hand up, you cheered, “Whoo! Come on, ghost five!”

Jisung whooshed his hand through yours, and the chill zipping up your arm only served to make you more excited. Finally, a win in all this.

3:16 a.m.

You glared at your bedside clock like it was doing this to you personally. Rolling onto your other side, you let out a disgruntled sigh. No matter how comfortable you were, how exhausted your bones and your brain were, you couldn’t fucking sleep. Sitting up, you threw your covers off of you and padded out of your room.

In the kitchen, you drank a glass of water, but couldn’t bring yourself to go back upstairs to your room. You wandered into the living room, plopping into your usual corner of the couch and pulling your knees to your chest. Turning your phone on, you once again glared at the time like it was invented to hurt you in particular.

3:20 a.m.

You could be doing something better right now, reading a book, laying very still with your eyes closed, meditating, anything but scrolling on your phone.

3:49 a.m.

Had you ever gotten a good night’s sleep in your life? You couldn’t remember in that moment. Your eyes stung looking at the screen, they stung when you closed them, but you blinked it away.

4:17 a.m.

“Y/N?” Jisung stepped into the living room. “Why are you still up?”

“Mm, Jisung, hey,” you greeted him dully, setting your phone aside on the arm of the couch. “I’m surprised it took you this long to find me.”

“I figured you were just getting a glass of water or something. I didn’t want to bother you. But you’ve been out here for almost an hour now.”

You sighed, resting your chin on your knees. “Can’t sleep.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I slept for a couple hours, but then I woke up and I just... couldn’t go back to sleep,” you sighed.

“Staring at that screen isn’t going to help you get back to sleep.” He frowned.

That made you chuckle. “And how do you know that?”

“Your mom used to get on your stepdad about using screens too close to bedtime,” he confessed. “Something about the light keeping your brain awake.”

You smiled as you could imagine that perfectly. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Can I do anything to help? Do you want like, hot chocolate? Or…” He trailed off as he was clearly wracking his brain for another option.

“You want to keep me off my phone?”

He nodded.

You stood up, your fingers tapping over the spines on the bookcases before you grabbed one. You offered it out to Jisung. “Read to me.”

Jisung gently took the book from you, then nodded to the couch. “Sure. Lay down.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” you snorted, taking your phone back off the arm and heading for the stairs. Tilting your head indicatively, you said, “Come on, you get to go to the second floor.”

His footsteps were quiet behind you, squeaking some of the same steps that you did as he followed you up the stairs. You opened the door to your bedroom, stepping in first and holding it open to gesture him in as he had stopped uncertainly by the threshold. Closing the door behind him, you then sat down on your bed again.

“Here.” You patted the empty side of the bed for him.

Jisung shuffled over, sitting up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out on top of your sheets. With amusement, you noted that he was no longer wearing his dark shoes, only black socks. You laid back down under your covers again, pulling your blankets up to your chin.

He clicked the lamp on his side of the bed on, and seemed to have read the title for the first time then. “Poems?”

“My mom used to read to me every night, way past the normal age that you stop doing that stuff I’m pretty sure. And whenever I got nightmares, or couldn’t sleep, I’d climb into her bed. It didn’t matter if I woke her up at two in the morning, she’d grab one of the five or ten books that were always on her nightstand and start reading to me until I fell asleep,” you explained, readjusting your pillow under your head. “That was one of my favorites. I figured it was worth a shot.”

Jisung opened the book to the first poem and began reading. His voice was soft and steady, deep and soothing. Despite your want to keep watching him and the focused look on his face as he read, his dark eyes following the words on the page, your own eventually fluttered shut against your will.

When you woke up, Jisung was no longer in your room. The book was resting on the nightstand on that side of the bed, and the lamp was off. Upon entering the kitchen, you saw Jisung standing at the humming microwave. He perked up when you walked in, despite the confused look on your face.

“Good morning!” He said brightly, then gestured to the microwave. “I’m making you hot chocolate. I heard the shower.”

“And if my mother had walked in and saw the hot chocolate making itself?” You asked dryly, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes. Your shower didn’t do much to wake you up this morning.

Jisung visually deflated, looking around guiltily. “Oh. Right…”

“It’s sweet, Jisung, thank you,” you added with a smile, watching his shoulders relax. “You’re very sweet. I just don’t want to give my mom a heart attack.”

“Of course.” He was smiling again too. “Sorry.”

Sitting halfway down the stairs with Jisung, you stared blankly at the front door. Dinner had been difficult for your mom tonight, and with no Nayoung at that meal, you had to do it all on your own. She was asleep now, and you held your head in your hands. Jisung was quietly sitting beside you, resting his elbows on his knees as his laced and unlaced his fingers in front of him. This was probably one of the best parts about having Jisung around. Despite being practically omnipresent at this point, if you didn’t want to talk, he didn’t talk. If you wanted to chat, he would talk to you about anything, but if you wanted utter silence, he would let you sit in utter silence—he just wouldn’t let you do it alone.

You felt nearly suffocated by the house in that moment, but you couldn’t leave your mom alone.

“Can you go outside?” You lifted your head to ask Jisung.

“Not very far,” he answered as if you were asking any other piece of trivia about him and his predicament.

“The porch swing?”

“Yes, I can go there.”

“Do you want to? Now? With me?”

He chuckled softly. “When have I ever told you no?”

It was a warm night, which you were glad for as you were only in your sleep shorts and a t-shirt as you sat on the wooden porch swing with Jisung. Holding the chain next to your head with one hand, you peered out at the nighttime around you, glad to be out of those walls finally.

“Pretty moon,” you commented, looking up at the silver half-moon above you.

“Mhm,” Jisung hummed his agreement.

“And stars,” you added, taking in the twinkling dots all around the moon.

“Mhm.”

“Pretty stars,” you clarified.

“Mhm.”

Looking at Jisung out of the corner of your eye, you kept the same tone of voice as you said, “Pretty garbage can.”

“Mhm.”

“Jisung?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Uhm… nothing.” He coughed. “Pretty moon.”

“Mhm.” You hummed back in the same sing-songy tone that he had. “I wish I could touch you.”

“Huh?” He spluttered out.

“Just feels like a nice moment to rest my head in your lap, don’t you think?” You looked over at him, meeting his dark eyes.

He looked down at his legs, then around him in what you would almost call an attempt to avoid your gaze. “Well… we could put one of the pillows on the swing where my lap is, and you can rest your head there and pretend it’s me.”

“That won’t be uncomfortable for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just make sure it’s not too far over here, I don’t want to make you cold.”

After you settled onto your back with your head on a pillow, right on the edge of where Jisung’s thigh started, you could see Jisung and the porch roof directly above you. The corner of his mouth twitched as he looked down at you, and you smiled back up at him.

“Can you push the porch swing?” You requested.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you felt the swing gently push off backwards then sail forward.

You rolled your head to the side to be able to look at the moon again.

“Can I ask…” You poked your tongue on the inside of your cheek. “How did you die? If you want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

Jisung sighed. “I don’t know. I went to sleep one night and when I woke up, I wasn’t in my body anymore.”

You felt your eyes widen involuntarily. “Seriously? You weren’t sick or anything?”

“I felt fine,” he confirmed. “I didn’t even realize until I couldn’t grab the handle to open my bedroom door and leave. My hand just went through it. When I turned back around to my bed, I saw myself lying there. I thought I was still dreaming.”

“God... I’m sorry, Jisung.”

He shrugged, his fingers messing with the edges of the pillow that your head was on. “It could’ve been worse. It didn’t hurt, I wasn’t dreading the end or anything.”

You reached for his face, despite knowing that it wouldn’t work, holding your hand up as if you were cupping his cheek, hovering right on the edge of where your skin passed through each other. “Does that... I always feel cold when I try to touch you. Is this warm? To you?”

“I never notice that I’m cold until I touch you.” He hesitantly put his hand over yours. “Like when you’ve been outside during winter for so long that you don’t even feel temperature anymore. And then you step inside again and you can suddenly feel just how cold you are because everything else is so warm.”

“Is it… I don’t know, nice?”

“It’s… a lot,” he admitted. “It’s not bad, but I can never warm up.”

“Oh.” You took your hand back, resting it on your stomach.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “Are you tired?”

“No, but I should probably head to bed.” You sat up reluctantly.

Only a few minutes after saying your goodnights, you were at the bottom of the stairs again, searching for Jisung. You found him in the living room.

“Can you read to me?” You asked, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt.

He chose a book off the shelves and followed you upstairs wordlessly. Back under your covers again, you listened to the sound of his fingers running over the edges of the pages, folding back the cover of the book before he started reading. It wasn’t the same book of poems as last time, instead you fondly recognized it as one of your favorite books from when you started reading novels as a kid, about a young girl who went on a grand fantasy adventure with all sorts of magical creatures. In the back of your mind, you thought to yourself that you were a little disappointed that you’d be asleep before the end, when she finally came home to her mother in the real world. That had always been your favorite part.

“Do cameras work on you?” You asked Jisung as you kneeled by one of the flowerbeds at the front of the house. It was early in the morning, and you made sure to keep one headphone in your ear so that any passerby who did happen by on morning walks or jogs would hopefully just think that you were on a phone call.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, sitting on the porch swing. “I think I would’ve found out if I was in the background of any Kim family photos over the years.”

Curious, you took out your phone, opening up the camera and pointing it at him. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but in the low light you could see the porch swing just fine, seemingly rocking along on its own on your screen. Taking just one picture, you paused your weeding to look at it from your camera roll. Again, you definitely couldn’t see Jisung sitting on the porch swing like you could with your own two eyes, but there was something going on in the picture this time. The air seemed to shimmer and distort in the vague shape of a person sitting in the photo, exactly where he was in real life. You zoomed in on the fuzzy edges that nearly turned into shadow, squinting as you tried to make out whether the distortion was in the image file itself or part of Jisung somehow.

“Well?” Jisung questioned, tilting his head.

“I got... something.” You stood up, walking over to show him. “It’s not what I see when I look at you. I see, like, a person.”

“Oh.” His face fell as he looked over the photo of the strange figure.

“I think it’s cool,” you tried to cheer him up. “Very mysterious, you know.”

He gave you a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“I get why you’re bummed, though. It’s probably been a while since you’ve seen yourself, right? I never see your shadow or your reflection. Can you?”

“No, I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s… I have my dad’s nose, and my mom’s smile. I just thought that even if I couldn’t see them anymore, it’d be nice to see the parts of them that are in me.”

You blinked back the tears that were pricking at your eyes. “I know what you mean. My dad’s mom was alive when I was younger, and she always said I looked just like him. I used to sit on my bathroom counter in front of the mirror with an old picture of him from when he was a kid for hours to try to see it too.”

“Do you look like him?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t you see it? I look just like my mom,” you laughed and shook your head.

Jisung chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to spoil your connection to your dad for you.”

“It makes me happy to know that my grandmother saw my dad when she looked at me anyway.” You permanently deleted the photo you’d taken of Jisung. “I’m sure you have something else from your parents that you don’t need a mirror for, though. Like, for me, when I laugh really, really hard, I start wheezing—it’s honestly an awful sound—and clutch my sides and stomp my left foot. My dad would laugh with his whole body like that too. I didn’t even know until my mom pointed it out a few years ago out of the blue. I sneeze like Hyukjun now, too. Don’t even know how I picked that up in such a short time. I was dusting the other day and when I sneezed, I realized it sounded just like him.”

“Really?” He laughed, a real one this time.

“Yeah,” you smiled fondly at the memory. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of pieces of your family in you other than your nose and your eyes, Jisung.”

The ghost held your gaze, his dark eyes that you tried to imagine belonging to some ambiguous father of his that you could never recall, smiling up at you with a smile that matched a memory of his mother you didn’t have. Even if you would never know them, you remembered them in that moment for him.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you leafed through the large tome of local genealogies in front of you. At first you were worried that Mr. Shin would have questions for you as to why you wanted information on the deed of the house, primarily who had owned it before your stepdad bought it. But instead, he simply had his paralegal fetch the information from the previous title search they’d done when drafting the documents for Hyukjun. You took the list of names with you to the local library, where they kept an archive of all sorts of birth, death, and marriage records, including genealogies of local families.

Kim Hyukjun had purchased the home from a husband and wife, the Parks, decades before you were even born. The Parks were the first owners, and despite neither of their names being Jisung, you figured he must be related to them in some way to have lived there before Hyukjun bought it; their son, a nephew, grandson, something.

You finally found a married couple whose names matched, and eagerly read on for their children. They had one child, a son, Park Jisung—deceased.

“Found you,” you whispered to yourself, tapping the name in the book. Taking a picture of all the relevant information, you shut the book and returned it to its place before taking down another one, death certificates.

Finally landing on Jisung’s, you read with bated breath and a morbid curiosity. It started with all the normal stuff—name, age, date of birth, address—and you skimmed on, trying to find the thing that you really wanted to know. But as you got to the end, and desperately re-read again from the beginning, more carefully this time, you realized there was no cause of death listed. They must not have requested an autopsy. As your chest deflated, you shook your head at yourself. What would knowing even change now? You took a quick note of the cemetery listed before shutting the book.

The information—or lack thereof—that you’d gotten from the library was still on your mind when you returned to the house. Nayoung was sitting at the kitchen table, and looked up from her phone when you came in.

“Ah, Y/N, how were your errands?” She asked, clearly noticing your empty hands.

“Fine,” you gave a non-committal answer. “Where’s my mom?”

“She’s taking a nap in her room. She’s been asleep for about fifteen minutes or so.”

“Good.” You glanced at the time on the stove. “You can head out for the day. Thank you, Nayoung.”

“I’ll see you all tomorrow, then.” She stood up and flashed you one more bright smile before showing herself out.

A few moments later, you heard the sound of the front door locking after her, then Jisung entered the room from that direction. He stopped next to you.

“So where’d you go today?” He asked curiously. “You didn’t pick anything up…”

You sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Library. They didn’t have what I needed.”

“What book were you looking for?”

You grimaced at yourself, picking at your nails uncomfortably as you braced yourself to tell the truth. “I wasn’t checking out a book. I was… I was looking up stuff in the archives, about you.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me?”

“I’m sorry, I was nosy and shouldn’t have done that without talking to you first,” you apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’ve got a ghost living in your house,” he reminded you frankly. “Normal personal boundaries aren’t really applicable here.”

“I… guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“And I mean, all you did was look in the archives, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine.” Jisung sat in his chair next to yours, leaning forward towards you eagerly. “What did you find out?”

You chewed your lip nervously. “Not much. I know your full name is Park Jisung. Your parents didn’t have an autopsy done, so we still don’t know why you… passed. I know where they buried… you, though.”

He kept looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. But that was all you had. When he realized that you were done, his face fell, and he let out a breath, sitting back in his chair.

“Oh.” He nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry, Jisung.” You instinctively reached for his hand that was resting on the table. You did a double-take when your hand didn’t impact with the wooden tabletop under him, though, but with him.

Jisung’s hand was cool to the touch, but solid, yours didn’t just slip right through it like usual. You stared down at your hands as you readjusted your grip in disbelief.

Your ghost was similarly bewildered, eyes locked on your hands as he squeezed yours back. “Are you…”

“Yeah, I can actually touch you!” You laughed in amazement.

He looked up from your hand to your eyes, lifting his other hand towards your face. “Can I…?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, or even breathe, in that moment.

Jisung’s fingertips gently caressed your cheek, his eyes filled with wonder as he murmured, “You’re so warm…”

“Are you… you know, cold? Is it like before?”

“No, it’s-it’s nice,” he said, clasping your hand with both of his now. “Thank you. For letting me…”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking around the kitchen.

“It’s funny, it’s one of those things you take for granted until you can’t do it anymore.”

“What?”

“Touch people.” He squeezed your hand softly. “I used to complain when my mom would kiss me, or my friends would give me hugs. Now… I can’t believe I’m holding someone’s hand again.”

You patted his arm, at a loss for words, but hoping that you could give him some kind of comfort in the moment. It sounded like a heartbreakingly lonely existence. You couldn’t imagine what you would do if you could never hug your mom again, or even bump into strangers on the train—small things that reminded you that you were real, that you took up space.

You felt your heart truly shatter when Jisung leaned over, pressing his forehead to your linked hands, and you saw his shoulders shake with quiet sobs.

“Oh, Jisung,” you whispered, scooting your chair closer to gently stroke his dark hair. “It’s okay…”

Tonight had been rough. This was the third night in a row that you had gone in circles trying to calm your mother down from a frightened state, afraid that every creak of the house settling, gust of the air conditioning rustling a curtain, or wind blowing a tree branch outside was a ghost. Despite being aware that your house was actually inhabited by a ghost, you knew it wasn’t Jisung doing any of those things.

You had finally gotten her back to sleep at almost one in the morning, and shut her bedroom door behind you with a sigh. Shuffling into the kitchen, you stopped in the middle of the room, rubbing a hand over your face as you just stared blankly at the countertop. You couldn’t even remember what you had come in here for.

“Hey,” Jisung called for your attention softly, his quiet footsteps approaching from behind you. “Did you want water? Hot chocolate?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know,” you groaned, turning around and burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m so fucking tired, Jisung.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he suggested, trying to usher you out of the kitchen, but you didn’t budge.

Looking up at him, you sniffled, “This is the third night this has happened… I don’t know if I can… What if I can’t—What if—What am I—What if I can’t do it by myself? What if I can’t take care of her like she needs on my own? She’s only going to get worse and I’m… Oh God, I’m tired.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks now as you felt an exhaustion from deep within. You felt it in every fiber of your being, in your bones, deep in your chest. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t feel worn out like this.

Jisung’s eyes widened as his hands frantically fluttered over your arms and shoulders, clearly unsure of where to settle as he went to try to comfort you. “Ah, Y/N, oh, no. Oh, God, I’m so sorry that you feel so tired. You’re doing so good.” He squeezed your shoulders. “You’re not alone. I know it can feel like that, but you’ve got Nayoung, too. Your stepdad left a fund to pay for your mom’s care, right? You can use that to have Nayoung here more if you need her to, can’t you? I’ve heard her ask if you want to adjust her schedule…”

“Yeah, she has,” you nodded, the admission only making you cry harder. “I just—I don’t want to think about needing more help, about needing Nayoung more, because that really means that she’s getting worse. But I can’t—She needs more than me.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jisung said, his own eyes shining in the dim light. “I wish I could make everything better for you.”

You gave him a shaky smile, the best you could muster in the moment, patting one of his hands that were still holding you by the shoulders. “I know. Thank you, just having you here to listen to me means a lot.”

He wiped at your tears with his thumbs, his hands shaking slightly as he gently cradled your face. “Let me help you however I can—you know, without freaking your mom out. You can take care of your mom and I’ll take care of you. Please.”

It was all you could do to nod your head in his hands. He let out a breath of relief.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the kitchen successfully this time.

At the top of the stairs, you stopped and grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t leave me, Jisung.”

He chuckled lightly, lacing his fingers with yours. “Where could I even go? I’m stuck here.”

“I mean, you always leave after I fall asleep,” you explained. “Don’t go this time.”

He nodded, using the index finger of the hand that was holding yours to trace an X over his heart, pulling your hand along with it. “I won’t leave you.”

You fell asleep curled up under your covers, Jisung reading a book of short stories to you, one of his hands resting on your head, fingers gently carding through your hair—a silent reminder of his promise that he would still be there in the morning.

When you woke up, you felt terrible. Not only because of how poorly you had slept lately, but all of your joints and muscles ached, your sinuses felt like they were stuffed up with concrete, your throat was scratchy and sore, and it felt like someone had turned the thermostat up to a million degrees. You winced as you rolled over and threw the covers off of you, already feeling that your sheets and clothes were damp with sweat. Groaning and clutching your head, you involuntarily coughed, having to prop yourself up on your elbow to avoid choking on your own mucus. Gross.

“You’re sick,” Jisung said from the other side of the bed, his voice sympathetic. You’d forgotten that he was even there, actually.

Sitting up, you tried to look as normal as possible, shaking your head. “No, just had something in my throat.”

You winced at the sound of your own voice; it sounded almost as bad as you felt.

“Y/N, you sound awful,” he pointed out. “And you were tossing and turning all night.”

“I’m fine—”

“Y/N.” He was giving you what could only be called a stern pout. “We just talked about this last night.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but faltered at the intensity of his gaze. Letting the tension fall from your shoulders, you grabbed your phone off your nightstand. “I’ll see if Nayoung or another aide can stay all day.”

Jisung finally smiled at that, standing up and moving to leave the room. “I’ll make you breakfast before your mom wakes up.”

You watched him walk to your door, and instead of grabbing the handle to open it, walked right through it. That must be why you were never woken by the sound of the door when he would leave in the middle of the night before.

Once Nayoung arrived, you hauled yourself out of bed and to the doctor’s office. As soon as you got back, you trudged right back upstairs. From the living room, you could hear the sounds of your mother and the aide chatting. In your room, you shrugged off your jacket and had just grabbed the hem of your shirt when Jisung appeared through the door.

“So what did—”

“Ah!” You yelped, yanking your shirt back down and whirling around to stare at him incredulously.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Jisung sputtered out, covering his eyes.

“Knock! I know you can!” You yelled, gesturing at the door with exasperation. “What is wrong with you?!”

“I didn’t think—I’m sorry!” He fully backed up and out of your room through a solid wall, still covering his eyes.

A few moments later, you heard soft footsteps accompanied by creaks on the stairs. Nayoung’s voice came next, “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, Nayoung, I’m fine,” you called back. “Just stubbed my toe getting dressed.”

“Alright…” She didn’t sound like she believed you, but apparently wasn’t going to press the issue. “I have another visit to make today, so another aide from the service will be here in the afternoon to take over from me. Her name is Hyesoo.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll say goodbye when I leave.”

“Thanks.”

You heard her retreat down the stairs, and finished getting changed in peace. Sitting down on your bed, you then heard a soft knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jisung stepped through the door, averting his eyes to his feet guiltily. “Sorry...”

“Forget about it, Jisung,” you sighed, flopping all the way under your covers. “I’m too sick to be mad at you.”

“What did the doctor say?” He asked, perching on the edge of your bed.

“It’s just a cold, but he said that all the stress I’m under isn’t helping,” you huffed, fluffing up your pillow under your head. “He gave me some meds, they’re in my bag.”

Jisung picked up your tote bag from where you’d dropped it by your nightstand, handing it to you. “I’ll get you some water to take them with.”

After he’d left the room, you set two of the bottles on your nightstand, and tucked the third in the drawer. Your ghost came back soon with a glass of water, and you eyed him suspiciously as he gave it to you.

“Nobody saw the floating glass of water?” You questioned, sitting up to be able to properly take a sip.

“Your mom and Nayoung were in the backyard,” he confirmed, watching you knock back the pills. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, shuffling back under the covers. “Sleepy. That doctor’s visit took a lot out of me.”

“Take a nap.”

“Will you wake me up before Nayoung goes?”

“Sure. But sleep right now.”

You were faintly aware of Jisung’s cool hand resting on your head as you let yourself get swept away by sleep.

Blinking your eyes open, you were greeted by the inky blackness of your ghost’s eyes first. Jisung was laying on top of the covers on the other half of your bed, cheek resting on his hand as he gazed at you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you rolled onto your back, suddenly feeling much warmer under the intensity of his eyes.

“The other aide just arrived, Nayoung is getting ready to leave,” he informed you quietly.

“Mm,” you grunted in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Still feel like shit,” you admitted. “The doctor did say the meds wouldn’t start working until the second or third dose.”

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and both you and Jisung went quiet. There was a soft knock at your door.

“Y/N?” Nayoung said your name quietly.

“Yes, Nayoung?” You replied.

“I’m heading out. Hyesoo and your mom are in the living room. There’s an extra serving of lunch, would you like me to bring it up for you?”

You were hungry now, and against your instincts, agreed, “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’ll warm it up for you, give me a few minutes.”

You stared up at the ceiling bitterly, trying to swallow down the uncomfortable, shameful bile rising up in your body. You don’t have to do everything yourself, you can accept people’s kindness, you can let people help you. This was exactly what you were getting upset with Hyukjun for doing, putting others before himself at the detriment of his own health. If you didn’t take care of yourself, your mom wouldn’t have any family left to take care of her—only Hyukjun’s fund to pay for more aides.

“Y/N, I’m setting it down outside your room,” Nayoung’s voice was back outside your door, startling you. You hadn’t even heard the stairs this time. “I made you some tea, too. I hope you feel better. See you tomorrow.”

You were out of your bed and opening the door before Jisung could. Nayoung was still on the top step, and looked over her shoulder, clearly a little startled. You looked down at the plate of food and steaming mug of tea, recognizing it as Hyukjun’s favorite coffee cup. Tears suddenly filled your eyes, but you didn’t move to hug her, knowing that she’d be visiting more elderly and possibly immunocompromised patients today. Instead, you stayed put in the doorway, giving her a small smile.

“Thank you, Nayoung.” You couldn’t string together any more words than that, but she seemed to get it anyway.

She beamed back at you, her young features holding a gentle understanding and wisdom. “You’re welcome. Rest well, Y/N.”

After getting ready for sleep that evening, you were sitting with your feet hanging over the side of the bed, taking your next doses of medications. You took the two on the nightstand, then pulled open the drawer to fish out the one that you had put away earlier. The nap you’d taken earlier had thrown off your sleeping pattern, you weren’t near tired enough despite the time.

“Y/N?” Jisung lightly touched your shoulder. “Everything okay?”

You were staring at the orange pill bottle in your hands, gnawing on your bottom lip. “What if I can’t see you?”

“What?”

“He gave me stuff to help me sleep.” You looked up from the bottle to your ghost. “But what if I take it and I can’t see you anymore?”

Jisung sat down next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and took the bottle from you. He turned it over in his hands as he spoke, “You could see me before you started having problems sleeping, right?”

You thought about this for a moment, then slowly nodded, relieved.

“And even if you took these and couldn’t see me anymore for some reason—I would rather you be well than see me,” he said, pushing the bottle back into your hand and wrapping your fingers around it. He held your eye contact sincerely. “Okay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Okay…”

Jisung watched silently as you opened the bottle, shook one out into your palm, closed the bottle back up, and knocked the tablet back with some water. He stood up to move to his usual spot against the headboard, grabbing the book that was sitting on the nightstand. You crawled under the covers, watching him open the book to where he left off.

“Jisung?”

“Yes?” He turned his gaze from the pages to you.

“Will you—” You sniffled, rubbing at one of your eyes as you yawned. “Will you just lay with me?”

“Oh. Sure.” He closed the book back up and set it aside, then laid down on top of the covers facing you. “Do you want the lamp off?”

“Mhm… please…”

He reached behind him to turn the light off, plunging the room into darkness. You could barely make out the outline of him from a strip of moonlight filtering in from a gap between the curtains. Your eyes were getting heavier, and you desperately fought to keep them open, just in case this was the last time you could see him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jisung murmured. He crossed his finger over his heart. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you managed to mumble back as your eyes fluttered shut.

When you woke up, you were face-to-face with Jisung, his eyes shut this time, eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks. You would’ve almost felt bad for what you were about to do, but you didn’t think that ghosts actually needed sleep, so you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

“Y/N?!” Jisung squeaked, freezing up under you. “What’s—”

“I can see you!” You cheered victoriously, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He let out a sigh of relief, one of his hands tentatively patting your back. “And a good morning to you, too.”

It was a couple weeks later, and you were all better. Just in time for winter, too. You let out a huff as you heaved your groceries up the porch steps, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold air. Unlocking the front door, you grinned when it was immediately opened for you, Jisung on the other side. He closed it behind you, taking your hat off you and brushing stray snowflakes from your hair, his brow furrowed in concentration. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, well aware of the sounds of your mother and her new evening aide, Hyesoo, in the kitchen already. He just smiled and murmured “You’re welcome” back.

“Oh, Y/N, back already, dear?” Hyesoo greeted you brightly as you walked into the kitchen. The two of them were playing cards at the kitchen table. Hyesoo was an older woman, closer to your mom and Hyukjun in age, but insisted on you calling her by her first name nevertheless.

“Yep, just had one stop to make today!” You informed them, putting your bags onto the kitchen counters. “I think the snow kept everyone away, too.”

“It was snowing?” Your mom questioned, the disapproval clear in her tone. “You didn’t walk all the way there, did you?”

“I wore all my layers, Mom, promise,” you chuckled, beginning to unpack the groceries. “And my snow boots!”

“I’ll put those away,” Hyesoo insisted, setting her cards down and standing up. “You go warm up, we’ve got a fire going in the living room.”

“Well, I do have some work to get done before dinner...” You said sheepishly. “Thanks, Hyesoo!”

You took the stairs two at a time up to your room to get your laptop, then ran back down to sit in front of the fire with it. Opening up your email first, you were unsurprised when a familiar figure sat down beside you, holding his hands out towards the flames. You hummed to yourself as you answered a couple emails, marking some under your to-do list to deal with later, getting the easier ones out of the way first.

“Ugh, not him again,” Jisung complained from next to you, having been reading them over your shoulder. “Decline!”

You elbowed him with an eyeroll, whispering under your breath, “He’s my boss, I can’t decline a meeting with him.”

“He’s not technically your boss.”

“Okay, supervisor. Still, I can’t decline a meeting with him.”

“They’re never about anything important.”

“Yeah, that’s every meeting ever.”

“He’s just doing it to talk to you. It’s an abuse of power.”

“We’re working on a project together and he’s actually in the office and I’m not. He gives me updates. It’s helpful.”

Jisung made a ‘hrrmph’ sound, pulling his knees to his chest as he opted to stare into the fire instead. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, mild amusement on your features.

“What? Are you jealous or something?” You teased. “He’s like, married with three kids. Have I not mentioned that? He just doesn’t know how to use computers so he makes everything a video call meeting.”

“Oh.”

“Jealous, jealous...” You said in a sing-song voice. “I already spend almost 24/7 with you, what more could you want?”

You had meant it to be rhetorical, but you swore Jisung’s mouth opened, about to answer, when Hyesoo walked in.

“Hey, I’m going to start on dinner, unless you had something planned?” She pointed to the kitchen over her shoulder.

“No, no, go for it,” you waved her off. “I have to take a call anyway. If I’m late, start without me.”

“Weren’t you just on one?”

So you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d hoped.

“Yeah, different department,” you fibbed quickly, getting to your feet and bringing your laptop with you.

You could hear the soft footfalls of Jisung following you, and at the top of the stairs, you turned around to put a hand on his chest, satisfied that Hyesoo wouldn’t be able to see you here. Jisung pouted, looking down at the hand you had on his chest.

“Work call,” you whispered, gently pushing him back. “Wait downstairs. Please.”

He nodded, not looking very happy about it, but descended the stairs anyway. It’s not like there was anything that happened on your work calls that Jisung couldn’t hear, but you didn’t want to risk a floating object in the background, you looking over at Jisung, or otherwise reacting to him in any way during one of your work calls. It was just easier to concentrate without him there.

The call with your supervisor once again really could’ve been an email, but you didn’t mind catching up with him after you got through the two or three minutes of real work conversation that you had. He was a younger guy, and had been one of the people that you were friendlier with when you actually worked in the office full-time. He filled you in on how his three kids were doing, as well as his wife, who you would always chat with at office social events. He asked about how your mom was doing, and you did inform him that she needed aides in two shifts now, to which he reminded you that if you needed to adjust your schedule or workload, that could be discussed. You appreciated that, but if your workload was any lighter, you wouldn’t be employed, and you needed money. The fund from Hyukjun paid for your mother’s medical care, but you still needed to cover the rest of your living expenses like food, utility bills, incidentals, and yourself.

“And you know those staff dinners that get put on your calendar aren’t just to say we invited everyone,” your supervisor added. “You really are wanted there. We know it’s difficult with your mom, but everyone still talks about you.”

You smiled to yourself. “Thanks. Her evening aide is going to be staying the night a few days a week now, so I might be able to make it out one of these days.”

“No pressure, Y/N. Just wanted to let you know,” he leaned back in his own office chair, and seemed to take a glance at the time for the first time in a while. “Sorry, I’ve kept you for a while.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Choi,” you reassured him. “I always enjoy our chats. Give your family my best, will you?”

“Oh! I’m late for dinner!” He suddenly shot up straight in his chair. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon!”

“Goodbye, Mr. Choi,” you chuckled, hanging up the call.

Closing your laptop, you went back downstairs to the kitchen to see your mom sat at the table, reading a book. Jisung was sitting in his chair across from her, and turned around expectantly at the sound of your feet. You poked your head into the kitchen to check on Hyesoo, who looked like she was still cooking.

“Hi, Mom,” you announced your presence to your mother, coming around the table to her seat.

She looked up at you with a smile, her eyes clearly focusing on you. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders from behind, resting your cheek on the top of her head. She held onto your arms with one of her hands, squeezing gently.

“What are you reading?” You asked, trying to glean any information from the pages that were opened in front of you.

“Oh, this was Hyukjun’s favorite book,” she explained, closing it on her finger to let you see the cover. “I was thinking about him today…”

“I think I read that in a Lit class I took in undergrad,” you commented. “I never knew it was his favorite.”

“Funny enough, it was your father’s favorite too.”

“Here I spent my whole life thinking ‘Goodnight, Moon’ was Dad’s favorite book,” you snickered, referencing the answer he had given you when you were a kid, one of the many children’s books you had at the time.

“Well, he didn’t really want to tell you about this sort of book when you were that little, I think.”

“Can you let me know when you’re done with that book?” You requested. “I think I’d like to reread it.”

“Of course.”

Hyesoo came into the dining area then with three plates, and you let your mom go to take your seat. Your mother set her book aside as dinner was set in front of her.

“Did you look at the mail today, Y/N?” Your mom asked.

“I skimmed it, threw out the junk,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food. “Why? Did you?”

Your mom must’ve had a very good day today. She usually didn’t bother with things like the mail at all.

“Did you see that Seohyuk’s getting married?”

“Yeah, again,” you snorted. This was marriage number three, if you were up to date on your stepbrother lore. “I’m surprised we even got an invite.”

“Y/N.” Your mother said your name sternly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Clearing your throat, you kept your tone more neutral as you said, “Yeah, I saw. Good for them.”

“What do you think?”

“About what? I just said good for them?”

“Going.”

You looked at her incredulously. “Like, to the wedding?”

“He’s family, Y/N.”

“Hyukjun was family,” you didn’t mean to snap at your mom like you did, your voice filling with vitriol. “They’re just three assholes that Hyukjun had the misfortune of being related to. We don’t owe them shit.”

“Y/N!” Your mother gaped at you.

Hyesoo and Jisung had both been silently watching the two of you go back and forth, and you suddenly became aware of the presence of two others in the room again. You took a deep breath in, looking over at the aide.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pushing your chair back from the table. “Good food. I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N, sweetie, can we—”

You ignored your mom’s pleas to talk, scraping off your plate into the garbage and putting your dishes in the dishwasher before storming upstairs. Flopping onto your back on your bed, you stared up at your ceiling fan.

When you heard a knock on your door some time later, you rolled your eyes, but called out to Jisung anyway, “Come in!”

Your door handle turned and opened, revealing not Jisung, and not even your mother, but Hyesoo. She paused at the doorway, obviously aware that you hadn’t been expecting her.

“May I come in?” She requested.

You sat up straight on your bed, nodding. “Sure.”

Hyesoo came and sat beside you, leaving a polite distance between the two of you. “I don’t want to overstep, Y/N… But I imagine there’s some stuff that has happened between you and your stepbrothers that your mom doesn’t know about?”

“Yeah, lots,” you scoffed. “They hate us. They’ve always been rude to me, but ever since Hyukjun left us the house… it’s just gotten worse.”

“When’s the last time you saw or talked to one of them?”

You breathed out. “Uh… probably when Seohyuk came to inspect the property a few months ago now. Mom didn’t even know it happened, Nayoung took her for a walk.”

“Hyukjun was family to you, right? That’s what you just said.”

“Doesn’t meant his shithead sons have to be my family,” you retorted. “They said to me, at his wake, that my mom and I weren’t his family. Like, how awful do you have to be?”

“Hyukjun saw you as his family. His wife’s daughter,” she said slowly. “Do you think, your mom might see Hyukjun’s sons the same way? I’m not saying you have to. But consider your mom’s feelings for a moment.”

You took a deep inhale, trying to separate your thoughts from your own swirling emotions in that moment. “I… I didn’t think of that.”

It was then that you saw she had something in her hands, and she held out two small pictures to you. One was the wedding invite, a picture of Seohyuk and his fiancée smiling on the front. The other was of a young man around Seohyuk’s age, the image grainy, as it was clearly older and taken on film. It was undeniable who this was, though—Hyukjun.

“Your mom was showing me some photo albums earlier, when she saw the wedding invite,” Hyesoo explained. “She didn’t say it, but don’t you think he looks so much like his dad?”

You swallowed the anger in your throat, eyes tracing over the two photos, the similar smiles, the way their crow’s feet crinkled, their noses, cheekbones, and jawlines. It was hard not to see Hyukjun in his eldest son now.

“Yeah, he does,” you agreed.

“Nobody is saying you have to go to the wedding and be best friends with your stepbrothers,” she said. “Or at least, I'm not saying that. But it might be a good idea to think about why your mom would want to go. Those ‘assholes’ are living, breathing pieces of Hyukjun that are still walking around. They’re his sons, and maybe she wants to feel connected to him by connecting with them.”

“He was such a good guy,” you reached for the picture of Hyukjun, holding it between your fingers. “How did he raise three absolute fucking jerks?”

“A mystery we’ll never be able to solve.” Hyesoo clicked her tongue. “I’m about to help your mom get ready for bed, do you want to talk to her before?”

You sighed and nodded. “Yeah, let me do that.”

She handed you the wedding invite as well, standing up from your bed. “She’s in her room. Let me know when you’re done.”

Steeling your nerves, you knocked lightly on your mom’s bedroom door. “Mom? It’s Y/N.”

“Come in, sweetie.”

You opened the door quietly, immediately spotting her sitting on the corner of her bed, as if she had been waiting for you. Sitting down next to her, you took her hand, squeezing it.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” you started. “I should’ve listened to you instead of being rude and talking to you like that. I was only thinking about my feelings about Seohyuk and them, and not yours. Can you tell me more about why you want to go to the wedding?”

“I-I know you and your stepbrothers haven’t gotten along, sweetie,” she prefaced her reasoning. “But… When I think about the fact that Hyukjun won’t get to see this… Even if he did see the first two, you know.”

The both of you snickered a little at that, bumping your shoulders together affectionately. You held the two pictures out to her just like Hyesoo had done to you.

“I get what you’re saying, Mom,” you leaned your head against hers, looking at the nearly identical visages of Seohyuk and Hyukjun. “I miss him too. If this will make you feel closer to him, or that you’re honoring him or something like that, then we should go. I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” She ran a thumb over the picture of Hyukjun.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” You asked Jisung, searching the table for your next puzzle piece. Your mom had gone to sleep and the two of you were putting together a jigsaw puzzle in your relaxing time before your own bedtime.

Jisung dropped his own puzzle piece that he had been trying to place, staring at you from across the coffee table. “My what?!”

“Your birthday. It’s next week.” You finally fished an edge piece out. “When I looked up the genealogy stuff, it had your birthday on there.”

“I mean, I figured that’s how you knew, but I didn’t think you’d actually—I don’t know, I’m surprised.”

“What? It’s probably been a while since you’ve celebrated it, right?” You put your puzzle piece down. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I just figured it might be nice.”

“No, I-I’d like that,” he smiled softly. “Just don’t get me a cake with an accurate number of candles in it, please.”

“I think that’d get more candle wax on it than frosting.” You wrinkled your nose, making him roll his eyes. “Are you telling me I have to plan it? I asked you what you want to do.”

“Just you remembering is enough to make my birthday feel special this year, Y/N.” Jisung reached across the table to grab your hand. “I don’t really care what else happens. But I’ll think of something, promise.”

One week later, and Jisung’s birthday lined up with a night that Hyesoo was staying over, so you couldn’t use the living room, as she slept on the couch whenever she stayed. So the two of you retreated to your bedroom after dinner. Closing the door behind you, you turned to Jisung with your arms crossed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You still haven’t told me what you want to do for your birthday,” you reminded him, tapping your foot. “And your birthday’s almost over.”

“I know what I want,” he reassured you. “But you need to change into your pajamas first, so—”

And with that, he stepped back and through the wall, out of your room. You begrudgingly changed from your casual daywear into your pajamas, then called for him to come back in. Your ghost popped back in immediately, heading towards his side of the bed. You watched him suspiciously as he sat down and grabbed the book on the nightstand. Instead of turning on his lamp as he would usually do, though, he reached over to the lamp on your side of the bed and clicked it on, then offered the book out towards you.

“I want you to read to me tonight,” he requested.

“That’s it?” You frowned.

“That’s it,” he confirmed. “You can sing me ‘Happy Birthday’ too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You took the book from him and sat down against the headboard, pulling your covers over your lap. Jisung laid down on top of the blankets, looking up at you, waiting. You sighed and shook your head, fondly brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Happy Birthday, Jisung,” you said, opening the book to where he had left off when he’d been reading to you.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” Jisung grumbled, handing you a lid to the plastic container.

“Me neither,” you sighed your agreement, snapping the container shut.

Today was finally the day of Seohyuk’s wedding. You, your mom, and Nayoung had just finished up lunch, and the aide would be helping her get ready while you got yourself dressed. Your ghost had made his distaste of the situation plenty clear.

“You couldn’t just send money and a card?”

“My mom wanted to go, and she doesn’t have another daughter to go with her,” you put the leftovers into the fridge. “I would’ve looked like a bitch sending her with an aide while I stayed home. And felt like a bitch.”

“Can’t believe that guy has even found three people who wanted to marry him.”

You laughed heartily at that. “Me neither. It’s got to be the money. Investment brokers make good money, right?”

“To fuck if I know,” your ghost snorted.

“Anyway, stay here while I get ready.”

Jisung saluted you, making you chuckle a little as you left the kitchen. The dress code was cocktail, unfortunately for you, meaning that you had to dress in the nicest outfit you’d worn since Hyukjun’s funeral. Most of your day-to-day wear was lounge clothes lately. After putting on your outfit, and doing your hair and makeup as well, you did a final once-over in the mirror, honestly a bit surprised at yourself.

Walking back downstairs, you could tell that Nayoung was still helping your mom in her room, so you looked around instead for Jisung. You saw his dark head of hair sitting on the couch in the living room, and started that way. He turned upon hearing your footsteps, jaw actually dropping when he spotted you.

“You’re going to catch flies like that,” you teased, pushing his chin back up as you stopped in front of him.

He looked up at you with wide eyes instead. “Woah…”

“Good woah?”

Jisung nodded, standing up and offering you a hand. You gently placed yours atop it, and he lifted it to twirl you around, making a giggle bubble out of you.

“Great woah,” he confirmed. “So not fair you look like this for that asshole’s wedding.”

“It’s not for him,” you scoffed. “It’s for me.”

“Still… I think the bride is going to get jealous.”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes, putting your hand over his mouth insistently, despite you being the only person in the house that could hear him. “You’re awful, you know that?”

He was obviously grinning behind your hand, eyes crinkling up with a mischievous twinkle. You sighed and dropped your hand from his mouth.

“So not fair to be that cute when I’m trying to be mad at you,” you huffed, pinching one of his cheeks.

“Ow,” he pouted, covering the reddened skin once you’d let go.

You heard your mom’s bedroom door open, and her and Nayoung came out a moment later. You walked over to give her a hug.

“Mom, that dress is so pretty,” you complimented her.

“Oh, Y/N,” she cupped your cheek. “You look so beautiful, sweetie.”

“You’re really beautiful, Y/N,” Nayoung added quietly.

“Oh, thank you,” you brushed down your outfit. “Thank you for your help, Nayoung. We should be good to go, I think.”

“Yes, yes, we need to get going!” Your mom clapped her hands together. “Don’t want to be late!”

After putting your mom to bed following the reception, you crept out of her room with your heels in hand. Jisung was at the bottom of the stairs, clearly waiting for you. He held his hands out to take your shoes from you, following you upstairs.

“So how was the wedding?” He asked, stopping outside your door to let you get changed inside in peace.

“Oh, it wasn’t bad, actually,” you answered him as you got undressed. “I think everyone was on their best behavior because it was a wedding, you know?”

“That’s good.”

“Seohyuk’s wife is actually really nice,” you informed him, chuckling in disbelief. “I hope he treats her right. And if not, I hope she’s got a good pre-nup.”

“Did your mom have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, she tore up the dance floor.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” Finally in your pajamas, you called out, “You can come in.”

Jisung materialized through the door, and went to put your shoes away for you that he was still holding. “I’m glad you two had a good time.”

“Me too.” You plopped into bed, feeling the exhaustion of the night hitting you all at once. “I’m almost glad that I went.”

“Almost?”

“I’m still thinking about how I could’ve spent all night in my pajamas instead of getting hit on by Seohyuk’s best man.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm…” You yawned and pulled your blankets up over you as Jisung sat down against the headboard and robotically grabbed the book on the nightstand.

“Was ‘fuck off’ not clear enough for him?”

“Didn’t tell him to fuck off,” you shrugged.

“What?!”

You winced and rubbed your ear. “Loud…”

“Sorry, sorry,” he quieted his voice down again.

“I was bored, and he wasn’t a jerk about it or anything,” you explained simply, closing your eyes and pushing your cheek against your pillow. “Still would’ve rather been here in my pajamas with you, though.”

“Oh. Okay…” Jisung took a deep breath, opening the book up to pick up where he’d left off in the story.

You were putting leftovers from dinner away some nights later as Hyesoo dispensed your mom’s medications for the upcoming week. You knew your worry was written all over your face. Your mom had been having so many good days—so many lucid days—lately, but today was bad. She asked you why you weren’t at school multiple times, refused to eat, and had another fit over the house being haunted. You were putting her plate of food away right now, entirely untouched.

“It was stupid,” you sighed. “For me to think she was getting better. I know her diagnosis—she’s only going to get worse.”

“There will be ups and downs, Y/N,” the aide reminded you gently. “The important thing is to not blame yourself for any of it.”

You sighed. “You’re right. Thanks, Hyesoo.”

“You don’t have work to do after this, do you?”

“A little bit. You’re staying the night, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good, good.”

“You know, I’ve been doing this for a while, dear,” she said kindly, shaking out a few pills. “And while I don’t know everything, I do know you can’t run yourself into the ground trying to take care of them. Or else there will be nothing left of you, and then how will you take care of her?”

“I know, it was hard to focus on work today, that’s all.”

“I mean—I’ve been with you all for some time now, and when was the last time you hung out with your own friends? Or went on a date? You’re a beautiful young lady, you’re doing the world a disservice staying cooped up in here all the time.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Really—”

“I’m being serious! Just think about it, dear. I promise, taking some time to keep living your life now won’t be the end of the world. This way, you’ll have a support system when you need it.”

You nodded in understanding, putting the leftovers away with robotic movements as your brain continued turning over her words.

Just about a week after that conversation with Hyesoo and you were fixing your hair in the mirror when a gentle knock came at your bedroom door. You called out to the person as you continued messing with your hair. “Come in!”

Jisung phased through your door. “Dinner’s ready, are you—”

He stopped his words as he seemed to take in what you were wearing, tilting his head with a curious frown. “You got changed?”

“I’m going out for dinner,” you told him, leaning over to focus on putting your earrings in.

“Out? Like, a work thing?”

“No, I’ve got a date.”

“What? With who?” He sputtered, then collected himself a little. “I mean—This is the first I’ve heard of it. How did you meet them?”

“His name’s Dongmin. I met him at the wedding last week.”

“Wait, don’t tell me he’s the best man you were talking about?”

“He gave me his number.” You shrugged. “So?”

“I thought you didn’t even like him?”

“What does it matter to you?” You crossed your arms.

“What do you—? Of course I care if you’re going on a date with some creepy guy who you don’t like.” Jisung ran a hand through his hair.

“I reached out to him, Jisung.” You didn’t know why you were getting so defensive, why you felt so on edge at the moment.

He crossed his arms. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“I didn’t hide it from you,” you scoffed. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Yeah, but this is—”

“What? This is what?”

He held his hands up in surrender, looking away from you. “Never mind. Hope you have fun.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t passive aggressive,” you snorted, grabbing your phone. “You’re just pissed because I’m the only person you can talk to all day but I get to actually leave this stupid house and hang out with people other than you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jisung glared back at you, raising his voice to match yours. It was quite possibly the most venomous you’d heard the normally soft-spoken ghost be towards you. “You leave the house all the time, you always talk to your mom or her aides. I don’t give a shit.”

You checked the time on your phone, setting your jaw. “I need to go. I don’t have time for you to keep avoiding what you’re actually trying to say.”

“Oh, right, I’m the only one avoiding,” he retorted sarcastically.

“Lalala! Not listening! Too busy avoiding!” You said in a purposefully childish, loud, and sing-songy voice, plugging one ear as you threw your door open and slammed it shut behind you.

The lights in the house were dark when you got back. Good, you didn’t want to face Hyesoo like this. It was already going to be bad enough risking running into Jisung. Hopefully he was still pissed at you and would stay scarce. Taking a deep breath to dampen your sobs for a few moments, you unlocked the front door and opened it as quietly as you could. No paranormal force on the other side opened it for you this time. Hyesoo’s light snores could be heard from the living room, but other than the sleeping aide, the house was eerily silent. You locked up behind you and started up the stairs, but couldn’t even bring yourself to make it all the way to your room. You all but collapsed at the top step, letting your tears stream freely again as you cried quietly into your hands, hunched over your knees.

That was a fucking disaster.

“Y/N?”

You opened your eyes back up at the soft, familiar voice. Jisung was at the bottom of the stairs, hands in the pockets of his cardigan.

“Oh, Jisung, hey.” You didn’t bother wiping your tears this time as you greeted him. He hesitantly shifted his weight from one foot to another. You patted the spot next to you for him. “Déjà vu, huh?”

He sat down next to you on the top step, deep frown on his features. “What happened?”

“Ugh, guy was an asshole,” you sniffed. “Like, I thought he was really nice and everything, but as soon as he realized I wasn’t going home with him, he turned into a jerk.”

“He didn’t…”

“No, he just said a bunch of rude stuff. Called me a bitch, a whore who was just using him for his money or whatever.”

“Y/N—”

“All that, I didn’t really care about,” you admitted, curling your hands into fists and digging your nails into your palms as his words came back to you. “It was what he said about my mom that really pissed me off. Essentially said I should just put her up in a home and get on with my life. I about threw a punch in the middle of the restaurant.”

Jisung let out a light chuckle at that, but the humor in his features didn’t last long. He scooted closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well for you.”

You shrugged, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I expected, really. He was Seohyuk’s friend, of course he was going to be an asshole.”

Jisung wasn’t warm, but you found his cool embrace comforting enough, the steady pressure of his arm encircling you, his sturdy body supporting you as he let you lean against him.

“I’m sorry, for getting upset at you earlier,” he apologized quietly. “You didn’t have to tell me where you were going, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I wasn’t being very fair either,” you replied. “I’m sorry too.”

“But… Why did you go out with that guy? I mean, if he had been nice, would you have… Would he…” Jisung stopped, apparently frustrated at not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “Why not me? I know that sounds so pathetic, but that’s all I wanted to ask you before.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, biting your bottom lip against the emotions rushing up in your chest at his words. “Jisung…”

“I’m not… imagining all this, right? I mean, there’s something here, Y/N. A-A connection.”

“What kind of relationship can you even have with a ghost?” You asked sadly.

“Maybe the kind you need now.” He grabbed one of your hands, holding it tightly in your laps between you.

“I’m going to get older, Jisung,” you reminded him calmly, despite each word piercing your chest like a knife. “Not to mention—I won’t be here forever. Like, in this house. I don’t own it. I’ll have to leave once she… I’ll have to go. I can’t stay here.”

“Does everything worthwhile in life have to last forever?” He murmured, his voice practically begging now. “Tell me you didn’t think about me while you were on that date…”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I can’t…”

“You did? Think about me?”

“The whole time,” you admitted. “Even when it was going okay, I was thinking about you.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up from your entwined hands, realizing that you were gripping onto him maybe even harder than he was you. Meeting his dark gaze, you blinked away a few more stray tears.

You finally let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Until it’s over, you and me.”

A smile overtook his features as he rested his forehead against yours. Readjusting your hand to cover the back of his, you moved his index finger to his chest, tracing an X over his heart. Your ghost watched your movements fondly, echoing, “Until it’s over, you and me.”

“Do you have anything left here that’s yours? Hair in a locket under a floorboard or something?” You questioned, looking around your room.

“What? No,” Jisung scoffed.

“Figured I’d ask.”

The two of you were brainstorming. Jisung really wanted to be able to go somewhere out of the house with you, but the best ideas you had of course came from popular ghost media.

“Your stepdad kept a lot of the original house fixtures when he bought it. Maybe one of those,” your ghost suggested.

“I’m not carrying a faucet around in my purse,” you replied frankly. “Not to mention, I’m not allowed to damage the house while I live here. My stepbrothers could sue me for anything that’s not exactly how it was when Hyukjun left it.”

“What about…” Jisung walked through the closed door, and you could hear the squeak of the stairs as he went down them. A few moments later, he went back up them, then came through the door again. He held out something in his closed fist towards you.

You stretched out your hand palm-up, and he opened up his fingers to drop a small piece of metal into it. It had some weight to it, and you turned it over in your hand to get a better look at it. It looked like a knob to a cabinet or drawer, in the shape of an eight-pointed starburst. It wasn’t familiar to you at all, it didn’t look like he had taken it off any place in the house that you could tell.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Where…?”

“It’s one of the original knobs that was on the cabinets in the kitchen,” he explained. “Your stepdad’s first wife wanted them all replaced when she moved in. He put them in a box in the laundry room closet and they haven’t been touched since. I doubt your stepbrothers even know about them. She probably thought he got rid of them.”

“These were on the cabinets when you lived here?”

“Yep.”

You pocketed the cabinet knob. “Can’t hurt to try.”

Once you’d given your mom and Nayoung your goodbyes, you headed for the front door. Jisung was right behind you, looking positively giddy as he watched you put your shoes on.

Patting your pocket again to reassure yourself that the cabinet knob was in there, you stepped down from the porch and onto the walkway. After nodding politely to a jogger going by, you looked around hesitantly at the empty space on either side of you.

“Jisung?” You said quietly.

“I’m here.” He appeared next to you, beaming down at you. “I’m here.”

The two of you had never gone past the porch swing, not even down to the flowerbeds you had continued to tend to. You grabbed his arm to pull him down with you as you squatted in front of the snapdragons that had just come back into bloom. Pride and bittersweet nostalgia welled up in your chest as you looked at the flowers that used to be Hyukjun’s hobby.

“Do you know the secret with these?” You asked Jisung.

“No?” He replied, tilting his head.

You reached out to gently squeeze the sides of a pink flower, making the dragon’s “mouth” open and close. “You can make their mouths open and shut.”

Jisung watched you fondly, then tried it on another bloom. He giggled. “That’s kind of fun, actually.”

Standing back up, you continued to the end of the house’s short walkway, stopping on the sidewalk.

“This is the furthest I’ve been in… a while,” he said, eyes shining.

“We’re still in the lay lines of the property…” You kept your hopes guarded. “I don’t want to call it a success yet.”

Walking down the sidewalk, you kept your eye on Jisung the further you got from the house, waiting for him to hit some invisible barrier and disappear entirely, or at least flicker or something else to indicate that he was losing his connection to the house. But he looked… normal. Fine.

When you were a full three blocks away from the house, Jisung grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Would you stop looking at me like I’m going to die again?” He joked.

“Sorry, sorry,” you sighed. “I just… can’t believe it. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Great!” He grinned.

You'd never seen Jisung in direct sunlight before, only ever the lights of the house, sunbeams that filtered in through curtains and windows, or moonlight at night. You were surprised at how… normal he looked. His skin had a lifelike rosy tint to it in places, his hair shone and reflected a dark brown at some angles, and he didn’t have any sort of ghostly pallor to him. The only thing that didn’t change were his eyes, still as dark and enrapturing as ever, his pupils melting into his irises.

“So where are we going?” He asked, swinging your linked hands.

“You’ll see.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go, hearing the sounds of other people around the corner that you were about to turn.

The destination you had in mind wasn’t very far, which was good, because your shoulder was getting tired carrying your tote bag. Veering off the sidewalk at a seemingly random place, you walked through a gap between two bushes. Jisung followed you diligently, keeping whatever questions he had to himself. The path underfoot was overgrown with grass and clover, only a path to a keen observer, or those who already knew it was there.

Finally, you ducked around a large tree and emerged at a clearing in front of a small pond. Jisung looked around in wonder as you proudly put your hands on your hips.

“Hyukjun and I came out here a couple times, when he and my mom first got together,” you explained. “Bonding stuff. I’m happy I remembered where it was.”

“I think…” Jisung slowly turned around in a circle, still taking it all in. “I think my friends and I used to swim here in the summer. And when the pond would freeze in the winter, we’d skate…”

He walked over to the largest tree nearby, fingers tracing over the bark that had endless initials carved in it, until he squatted down by the base. “Yeah. I didn’t recognize the streets when we were walking over here, but…”

You joined him by the tree, watching as he pointed out a cluster of initials, seven in total, ending on PJS. “There you all are,” you said quietly. “I didn’t even know this was here.”

“They’re probably all old men now,” Jisung chuckled, a laugh that you could tell was forced.

You reached for his hand, holding it with both of yours. “It’s okay to be sad that you didn’t get to grow old with your best friends, Jisung. I know you’re the one that passed away, but have you mourned them yet? All your friends and family that you didn’t get to see grow old?”

“Damn it.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to make you all sad on our first real date.”

“I’m dating a ghost,” you pointed out, running your thumb over the back of his hand. “I think a little doom and gloom comes with the territory.”

“To answer your question, I haven’t thought about it like that,” he sighed. “I always felt bad that I left them, that they had to mourn me. But I never… grieved the fact that I lost them too.”

“I don’t want to make you sad on our date, either,” you panicked a little at the shadow that had fallen over his features, moving to wrap an arm around his shoulders and hug him. “I’m sorry!”

Jisung laughed a real laugh this time, hugging you back. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s better than feeling guilty for something I had no control over.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“I honestly hadn’t even thought about coming here with them in so long… Really, it’s nice to remember them all again.”

You let go of him to reach into your tote, pulling out the large picnic blanket you’d brought with you. “How about instead of the both of us making each other sad, you tell me a bunch of fun stories about your friends while I enjoy the picnic food I packed?”

He pecked your forehead, taking the blanket from your hand. “Deal.”

The pond had become one of yours and Jisung’s favorite spots to go when you could find time between work and your mom. The two of you could get out of the house together without risking you getting some very strange looks in public. Sometimes you brought a picnic, sometimes books or a crossword puzzle or deck of cards or just laid on your blanket and tried to find shapes in the clouds. Every so often, you’d get someone coming by walking their dog, or a gaggle of kids cutting through from one of their backyards to another, but nobody ever paid you much more attention past a ‘hello’ or ‘lovely afternoon, isn’t it?’

After submitting a big project at work, you finally had some free time again. As long as your mom was having a good day today. She’d been more sensitive to you leaving the house lately on her bad days, and while the aides promised that she always calmed down eventually, you hated causing her so much stress if it was avoidable—errands were one thing, but a date with your ghost boyfriend that already haunted your residence could take a raincheck.

You looked in the living room first, then the dining area and kitchen, and frowned thoughtfully when you couldn’t find your mother and Nayoung. Turning around, you were greeted by Jisung, who pointed to the backyard knowingly.

“They’re in the back drinking lemonade,” he informed you. “She’s having a good day.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, Jisung,” you let out a breath of relief, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you passed by on your way back into the living room.

Opening up the door that led onto the back porch, you immediately spotted your mom and Nayoung sitting beside each other on two rocking chairs, a pitcher of lemonade between them as they overlooked the small backyard. Their conversation stopped when they heard the door open, both of them turning to look at you over their sunglasses.

You held your hands up defensively. “Woah, I feel like I just interrupted something…”

“Yes, you can go, sweetie,” your mom said knowingly.

“What?”

“You finished your work and are checking on me to see if you can go out.” She took a sip of her lemonade, pushing her sunglasses back up and settling back into her chair again. “I’m telling you I’m fine, and you can go.”

“Nayoung?” You turned to the aide. “Everything okay—?”

“We’re fine, Y/N!” Nayoung waved you off with a smile. “Really!”

“Alright, alright.” You surrendered, backing up towards the door again. “I’ll be back before Hyesoo gets here.”

“What day is it, Nayoung?” Your mom asked.

“Wednesday.”

“You know, my memory isn’t the best, remind me, when does Hyesoo stay the night?”

“Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“Hm.” Your mom tsked. “Interesting…”

Nayoung didn’t add anything further, but giggled as she took another sip of her lemonade.

“You two are nuisances,” you scoffed and shook your head, finally heading back inside.

You beelined for your bedroom, finding your ghost already sitting on your bed clearly waiting for you.

“Oh yeah, she’s having a great day,” you snorted in lieu of a greeting, grabbing your usual tote bag. “That new medication her doctor put her on is doing wonders. I might have to have him cut her off.”

“I think she’s a lot of fun,” Jisung snickered. “Earlier, when you were on that work call, she was telling Nayoung about your third-grade science fair—”

“Ahh!” You cut him off by planting two hands over his mouth, eyes going wide with mortification. “Of all the things she remembers, that’s what sticks around?! Are you kidding?”

His shoulders were shaking as he let out muffled laughter behind your hands, and he eventually collapsed backwards onto your bed. Your hands dropped from his face as you stayed upright, allowing his laughs to echo freely in your room.

“If you’re going to keep making fun of me, we’re not going out.” You crossed your arms. “I’ll bury your cabinet knobs in the backyard, and your soul will really be stuck here forever.”

“You’ve got to stop being so cute when you pout, and I’ll stop teasing you.” He was still chuckling as he sat up and reached for you with two hands. With an eyeroll, you let him pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around your waist.

“This isn’t fair, I can’t find out embarrassing stuff about you unless you tell me,” you huffed, well aware you that you were still pouting.

“I always answer your questions. You just don’t ask me that stuff.”

“Well now I will.”

“Anything else you need to pout about?”

You let out a deep breath, your face relaxing a little bit. “No. Done for now I think.”

He cupped your cheek, leaning in to press his mouth to yours. Like everything else, Jisung’s lips were cool as they meshed with yours. Not uncomfortably so, he wasn’t quite an icicle, just unlike any human you’d kissed before. You put your hand over his on your cheek, remembering when even that used to be a far-away impossibility.

You left him with one more kiss on the tip of his nose before asking, “Are you ready to go? Mom and Nayoung gave me the okay.”

He started playing with your fingers, eyes focused downwards as he spoke. “I actually wanted to ask if we could maybe go somewhere else today?”

“Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t want to be a bummer or anything but…”

“What is it?”

His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “You wrote down the cemetery, right? When you went to library and looked up the genealogies and stuff about me. You said you wrote down where my parents buried me?”

“Yeah, I still have it,” you confirmed, cradling the back of his head as you patiently waited for him to finish asking what you knew he wanted to ask you.

It took him a few inhales and exhales to ask, “Can we go?”

“Of course.”

This was officially the furthest you and Jisung had gone from the house together. He’d gone with you on errands a couple times before—the post office, library, things within walking distance—but you had to get on a train for this. You were a little nervous that he might not be able to go this far, even with the cabinet knob safely tied onto a leather cord and tucked under your shirt. So far, the only limit you’d discovered to his leaving the house was time—six hours or so seemed to be the magic number. You’d found that out on a particularly lazy day, when you were looking up at clouds together and suddenly his lap disappeared from beneath your head. He’d apparently popped back up in the foyer with the first headache he’d experienced in decades. Since then, you’d been more careful to keep an eye on the time when you brought him with you.

But he sat comfortably through the whole ten-minute train ride at your side as if he were any other passenger. The car that you were in wasn’t full, meaning that you had a row to yourself, leaving an empty seat next to you for Jisung. After arriving at your stop, you had another five-minute walk until you finally arrived at the cemetery.

“This is where my parents are from,” Jisung stated as you passed under the metal archway at the entrance. “That’s probably why they didn’t choose somewhere back in town.”

A winding path went through the center of the land, smaller pathways breaking off into other areas. It was a big cemetery, gently rolling hills dotted with headstones, grave markers, elegantly carved statues, all sorts of tributes to loved ones. The two of you took a meandering pace, eyes scanning all the names for just one. You looked around the property warily, now extra aware of being a public nuisance somewhere so sacred. You especially didn’t want to risk disturbing any mourners who might be here. But you couldn’t spot anybody except yourself and Jisung, maybe because it was the middle of the day in the middle of the work week.

“There,” Jisung announced, his gaze locked on something in the distance, while you had been looking at markers much closer. He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he rushed across the cemetery.

You stopped in front of a simply shaped granite headstone with a carved border. The name at the top read ‘PARK JISUNG’ and under it, a birthdate and death date that were familiar to you. It was the epitaph that was new to you, however.

‘THERE WILL ALWAYS BE LOVE

CROSS OUR HEARTS’

Jisung reached a finger out, tracing over each letter in ‘LOVE.’ He said, “I always wanted to know what they wrote. What they said about me. How they wanted to remember me forever.”

“It’s lovely. They love you a lot,” you replied quietly, resting a hand on his back.

He looked over at you hopefully. “You’re talking in present tense. Are they…?”

“The records I looked at didn’t list them as deceased when I was looking for information about you, but I don’t know how often it’s updated,” you informed him. “I didn’t look any further into them, I was only trying to find out what happened to you.”

“Do you think two more headstones could fit there?” He gestured to the empty space beside his own.

You took the seemingly random question in stride, genuinely contemplating it. “Probably, yeah. Or one big one would fit better, like the couples that get buried together.”

Jisung had a satisfied smile on his face as he nodded. “Yeah, one big one. That’s it.”

It dawned on you then what he was thinking—his parents had most likely reserved the plot next to his for themselves once they passed, and since it was still empty, they were still alive.

“Thank you.” He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. “For coming out here with me. This must be the weirdest date you’ve been on.”

“Visiting my boyfriend’s own grave with him?” You tilted your head back and forth contemplatively, a teasing lilt in your tone. “Mm, yeah, definitely up there. But I’m glad that you wanted to do this with me, Jisung. I can’t imagine what this feels like for you.”

“I’m ready to go,” he declared, looking up at the blue sky above you. “It’s such a nice day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agreed, fondly admiring his little one-eyed squint against the sunlight.

Back home that night, you shook one of your sleeping meds from the bottle, setting it down on your nightstand as you went about getting ready for bed. Your ghost was already sat against the headboard, his legs covered by your blankets, hands folded over the book in his lap as he waited for you. Finally ready, you knocked back the tablet with a gulp of water and climbed under your covers. Jisung rested one hand on your head, thumb stroking over your forehead, but after an abnormally long period of silence, you opened one eye to peer up at him.

He was just gazing down at you tenderly, and you fought the instinct to cover your face, instead reaching over to tap the cover of his closed book.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” You complained in jest.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” he responded, still not moving to open the book.

“What about?”

“My epitaph. ‘There will always be love.’”

“It’s nice.” You bit back a yawn.

“Yeah. I was thinking about how they probably meant it like their love for me will persist, and proof that I was here and was loved and loved others when I was alive will persist.”

“I like that, Jisung. I think that’s what they meant.”

“And… there was no way they could’ve known this when they picked it, but I was thinking…” Your ghost paused, dark eyes enrapturing you in that moment that you didn’t even think about breathing. “About how even after I died, you somehow found me.”

You grabbed the book from his lap, reaching behind you to blindly put it on your nightstand. Jisung immediately understood, turning his lamp off and leaving the room in darkness as he slipped the rest of the way under the covers. You buried your face in his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head as you simultaneously pressed yourself into him and pulled him as close as possible. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into you hard enough to make you feel real, which you were glad for.

“I’m going to bring you with me,” you choked out past the tears rising in your eyes. “When it’s time for me to leave. I’ll bring all the cabinet knobs, a chunk of the foundation, whatever will make it work. Fuck my stepbrothers—I’ll pay whatever damages. If you want—”

“Of course I do.” He didn’t even let you finish that thought, and you could hear the tremble in his voice. “But we’ve never been able to get around the time…”

“I’ll figure it out for us, Jisung.” You pulled back just enough to show him as you drew an X over the left side of your chest. “Cross my heart.”

He took your hand from your heart, kissing the back of your fingers tenderly. “We knew it was going to be like this. We promised.”

“We said ‘until it’s over,’” you argued. “I don’t want it to be over yet.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But I don’t think it’ll be our choice when it is. Not everything worthwhile has to last forever.”

“Jisung—”

“We’ll try everything,” he assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m not giving up on you, Y/N. You and me, until you hand the keys over and close the front door behind you.”

“You’ll be coming with me when I do that, Park Jisung,” you declared, your voice cracking over his name.

He wrapped both arms around you again, tucking you under his chin. “Of course.”

⤷ sequel | masterlist

[cosmicconversations]

Astrology Lesson of the Week: The 11th House

Every Monday, I will be doing my series Astrology Lesson of the Week where I dissect a certain astrological subject. I am going through the houses now and we are going to be discussing the 11th House today. On my Patreon, I will be doing an extended portion where we will go further in-depth.

So, let’s explore the 11th House!

What is the 11th House really about? Every house has its buzzwords and this one is no different. Friendships, charities, communities, online activities. But, all of that has always seemed a bit vague to me. It is interesting because it feels like few people really dive in-depth into the 11th House and maybe that is fitting. It is associated with Aquarius, which is a sign famous for its detachment and distance. Maybe the best way that we can understand this house is from an objective standpoint. And that means that the things that this house represents needs to be looked at objectively in order for us to enjoy them.

Our friends, for example, have the potential to make or break us. There is that saying that “you are who you associate with”. And that’s a key energy in terms of this house: associate. This isn’t the house that is going to solely represent your closest friends. Your best friends are more so symbolized by the 7th House, which we will get to eventually. However, your bond with your besties is found here. It will just also be lumped in here with friends you have that you’re not close to or just general acquaintances. Your 11th House is how you will approach and experience friendships, in general. And it also shows how this connections can either bring positivity to your life or hold you back. People with 11th House placements feel this more strongly than others. These are people who value their friendships in a very powerful and notable way. They can be more socially active than others, past the age where many people stop going out and partying. Even into their more “mature” stage of life, 11th House people love housewarming parties, dinner parties, networking or business events. Any way they can gather with a large group of people that they are connected to in varying degrees, they’re here for it. Their most special friendships also have a way of surviving all the adult transitions that can make people drift apart, like moving or getting married or having kids.

“Friend groups” is another representation of 11th House energy and having planets here can give you a friend group that is a really colorful, fun, and powerful unit. It’s like the camaraderie you see on Friends or Girlfriends or How I Met Your Mother or Sex and the City. 11th House people can especially enjoy shows like this and identify with them because they, too, have a friend group that is formidable and always there for each other, through the ups and downs of life, with everyone having their own distinct personality. This can be a big group or a solid quartet or just a strong trio. But, friend groups can also get very exclusionary and closed-off. And infighting can also occur. This is when a seemingly ideal group of friends turns into The Plastics. Not only could there be a lot of inner conflict but people who aren’t a part of the group can feel very unaccepted. This often happens when there are difficult planets in the 11th, in particular, like Mars or Saturn or Pluto. It’s a “with friends like these, who needs enemies” vibe.

So, we can also see the downside of the 11th House: fractured or fake friendships, social alienation, being judged or picked on for being different or not following the “social rules”. The contradiction of the 11th House person’s life is while they may be very socially well known, they can also feel like a huge misfit. It often happens that these people become “cool” in adulthood while still haunted by the experience of being an outcast while growing up. So, they may not feel that cool or popular. As someone with Uranus in the 11th, I know the dilemma. It can actually be very hard for 11th House people to let go of the “misfit/weirdo complex” and receive or recognize the love and admiration that others have for them.

The thing is that everyone has a sign on the 11th House cusp. So, even if this house is empty for you, it doesn’t mean you’re immune to feeling misunderstood or made fun of or not accepted. (Empty houses matter, too!) It’s a pretty universal experience and the sign on your 11th House cusp indicates what you felt like your peers could not accept about you. The difference with people with an occupied 11th House, though, is that we are often more capable than most of resisting the urge to conform or of not responding to peer pressure. This is part of what contributes to that “cool factor” as time goes on. When you have the confidence or comfort within yourself to just own who you are or what you like, without a concern of what people will think of it, you earn more admiration than you do ridicule, especially as you enter adulthood. What makes you different while growing up becomes your superpower. If you have a planet or more in the 11th, it represents that superpower, a gift that you can just casually do all while making a big impact as you do.

It should also be said that the 11th House can focus on groups that are more interest-oriented. Any sort of fun organization or online community, centered around a hobby or goal or interest, falls into the 11th House domain. This is the form of socializing and connecting that is more impersonal and that can often suit 11th House people very well. Sometimes, having planets here means preferring these sort of groups to a specific friend group. We can go through periods of being immersed in one or the other. Often, an aversion to just one group of friends is a defense mechanism against having your independence or individuality taken from you. As much as the 11th House is about the crowd, it’s also about the people who go against the crowd. Maybe getting burned by certain friends or acquaintances in the past or feeling too alienated by them has made you more of a lone wolf. In this sense, it is easier to have more casual friendships, for the most part, and direct more energy toward Internet connections that still help you feel a part of something bigger than you. But, maybe this is a temporary phase and you just haven’t truly found “your people” yet. As an 11th House individual, you are meant to. So, hold out hope.

However, for everyone, you can still see through this house how you spend your time online and engage with various platforms or communities. For so long, people have attributed our social media presence to the 10th House, which I think is accurate. With the 11th House, we see more specific online platforms or spaces that are about something bigger than us, whether that is “stan Twitter” or fan message boards or Reddit communities or even communities on Tumblr. Through 11th House online spaces, it is less about us. We can remain anonymous if we choose and we gain validation more so for the individual perspective we are offering our community. But, it’s not just limited to the Internet. It’s also book clubs and casual athletic teams or organizations that help people in some fashion. It is something we all feel compelled to do, consciously or not. For some people, it is more often than others. But, it is healthy to join forces or energies with others and, because of our individual differences, doing so because of what we are mutually interested in or concerned about is highly effective.

Extended Portion of Astrology Lesson for the Week (11th House) (here we will discuss how this house rules the unexpected aspects of life, collaborations, making a difference, and how bullies and fake friends get their comeuppance)

[drill-teeth-art]

A late night, slight retrospective on the tiny amount of Tumblr fame I've gathered that also might be slightly annoying for my audience to read so feel free to skip it if you want.

I started sharing Transformers fanart on here back in 2022, around October. I had been posting art on here for a while before actually but people really started following me and asking about my work and actually reblogging my stuff when I started posting Transformers fanart in 2022. I was in a really low place then, and I really welcomed the attention. My art was and still is something I take a lot of pride in. It's my own. There's quite a few years of my life where the fact I could still draw was the only thing stopping me from attempting suicide. It's something that has always meant a lot to me, so the attention on one of the only things I really liked about myself was nice. It was nice for a while.

But I've gotta say the slight Tumblr fame (and I do mean slight, I've only got around 3k followers which is a lot of people and more than I ever thought I'd have following me and more than a lot of folks will ever have but not like A Ton Of Fame) has wreaked havoc on my mental health. Which is already pretty rough as is. Suddenly I wasn't just some guy making Transformers fanart while desperately saving up to get out of my parents' house. Suddenly I was some people's FAVORITE Transformers artist. Suddenly I was a role model to people and I had people in my DMs clambering for my attention and I had an audience that would cheer or boo or go awkwardly silent at my every post depending on how much they liked it. And it was Not Good For Me. I had and still do have people all over my inbox, excited about how I drew fat and disabled and trans characters asking me over and over to draw some specific representation that I don't want to draw right away. I had and still have people begging me to draw their favorite Transformers character who I happen to not really care about and not want to draw at all. And I am painfully aware how often people take personal offense to my polite "no I'm not drawing that unless it's a commission" and my not answering their ask because I'm not in the mood. I've had people send in asks asking for a specific drawing and then follow up asks when I don't answer in a timely manner. And it's really uncomfortable! And it's almost more uncomfortable that it feels like a lot of people don't even notice that they're making me uncomfortable.

And I like learning how to draw bodies I've never drawn before. I like looking at a character who I think is meh and being like "well actually how can I make them interesting to me...". But it really felt and still feels like my art was getting away from me, like I was drawing more what people were asking me to make instead of what I wanted to because people would take it so badly when I'd say no. I was getting commissions though and I was saving up money to move out so I ignored that bad feeling of getting distanced from my own craft because I was trying so hard to save money and I was actually making some. And I still wanted the attention. Plenty of people were still kind to me despite everything.

Things got weirder for me after I released my Good Bi Gender comic. Which I do still recommend people read I think it's some of my best work. But that comic became a huge hit. And it made things really complicated for a while. I got anon hate. I was told to kill myself by strangers online more than once while I was already deeply suicidal. Something I thought I stated very clearly in the comic itself, that I didn't want strangers calling me "she" though I did and do let my close trusted people call me "she", was immediately ignored by my regular audience and people reading the comic. I got a lot of "you go girl!" kind of messages in response to my comic, and I didn't say anything at the time but it made me deeply uncomfortable. The comic was partly about how the she/her part of my identity is off limits to strangers. How I don't let just anyone she/her me because I work so hard to have the he/him aspect identity acknowledged at all. And it was like what Tumblr decided for me was to go against my wishes. Was to be like "we'll accept your identity for you!" when that's not what I wanted. I did NOT want to be she/her'd by thousands of strangers at the time. And though I'm grateful to have heard the understanding stories of other folks with nonbinary gender identities in the notes, it was deeply humiliating and invalidating to watch as others decided for me to accept the Girl part of my identity. The opening lines of the comic are explicitly a plea to the reader to listen and understand why they're not allowed to use she/her for me even though I'm opening up about the complexities of my identity.

And like. I don't care anymore if people online she/her me. At least I don't care right now that's why she/her is in my bio right now maybe I'll change that. But at the time it was awful. It was something I asked people not to do. And between that and the constant clambering for my attention from people I didn't want to talk to (because I was severely depressed and wasn't looking to make a ton of new friends) and the alienation from my own work I felt like shit. I felt like garbage. I still do. I hate my art sometimes. I really hate it. And for a while, I considered breaking my own fingers just so people would stop acting so entitled to my art and I would have a reason not to post. And honestly the only thing that stopped me was just trying to get by financially. Just watching my follower count and regular notes steadily trend upward so I could do more commissions so I could move out.

And doing things for the numbers, even for a relatively short time, only made things worse. It sounds a little silly even to me, but I get so stressed out when my posts flop, especially if it's art I was really proud of. I'm struggling to detangle my sense of worth in my art from the online numbers game. And I'm proud of the progress I'm making, but it does really suck and it's really hard. And I really wish I was still the same person back in early 2022 who could say "I don't care about the numbers!" and actually mean it because god I WISH I didn't care about the numbers now. Especially now. I dunno if it's me posting more art people don't wanna see or people leaving Tumblr or a shift in the culture of Tumblr but fewer and fewer people interact with my posts despite my follower count ticking up slowly but surely and it kind of bums me the fuck out. But. I am very proud of myself for still drawing the ocs that I want to draw even if they get less notes every time. And even if I'm slightly frustrated they get less notes every time.

I don't really have a neat bow to tie on my personal story right now. I'm still healing and sometimes I backslide and it's hard and it sucks. I don't want to sound ungrateful or to sound like I'm trying to shoo people off my blog because I'm not. I'm really grateful for the attention and interest and I'm not trying to turn people off my art blog. But it's been a rough few years on here. And don't be surprised if you see me take more and more breaks from this website. I do sincerely hope y'all will stick around and watch me continue to post whatever art and say kind things because I do appreciate that a lot. I'm trying really hard to mend my relationship with my own art. To not be so hard on myself. And for the record I don't want any asks telling me to take breaks when necessary or reminding me to draw for me. I appreciate the sentiment, but I already know all that and I personally don't find it helpful to be reminded of things I already know. But anyway. I hope that I will draw more and more of whatever I want to, even if that means I fade back into obscurity.

If you stuck around to read me reflect on the stresses and occasional humiliation of my small amount of online notoriety, then thank you. I appreciate that. And really I do like people looking at my art on here and sharing it and sending asks about my work. And the person I expect to be responsible for my mental health and how much social media is impacting it is Me first and foremost. But sometimes I think that it's important to remember there's a person behind your favorite art blog. And sometimes when you get swept up in parasocial attachment and hype, you kind of treat that person really fucking weirdly. And no that doesn't make you a bad person or a monster. But it does mean you have to learn to deal with it when someone who you might even idolize is like "back off me you're making me uncomfortable".

Anyway. I shouldn't be up as late as I am. A headache has been keeping me up all night. I'm gonna try to rest though. Goodnight.

[atamascolily]

Gather round, everyone - today I'm going to talk about a topic I've never seen discussed anywhere: the use of lace in Madoka Magica, particularly Rebellion.

Earlier, I was examining sketches of some prototype designs from the Rebellion Production Note, particularly this glove with Homulilly's name on, and I noticed something interesting in the accompanying text.

"黒レース... kuro rēsu... black lace... Wait a minute. That fringe on the bottom of the glove is supposed to be lace??!!!!!!!"

Because I've seen this same "peacock's tail" motif a lot, actually--it's the outer ring on the mandalas that appear around Walpurgisnacht and Homulilly.

Here's a close-up shot of that last shot of Homulilly from the Rebellion Production Note, which has a much higher resolution than the finished film version, so you can really appreciate the details:

Take a look at the "peacock's tail" edges of the mandala and compare them to the lace of Homulilly's shawl. It's the same pattern. It's obvious once you know to look for it, but I never would have made the connection without Inu Curry's comment.

And this is interesting, because lace appears a lot in Rebellion and in surprising places.

Take the "pennants" in this shot, for instance. I had always thought of them as "cobwebs", but then I saw the original sketch in the Rebellion Production Note--again, a much higher resolution than the film screenshot--and realized that they're woven lace, albeit a very different style from Homulilly's shawl.

There's also this striking image of Homura framed by lace that has always puzzled me, because what is it doing there (especially since it doesn't seem to be visible in any of the wide shots)?

I mentioned all of this to Silver, who said, "But wait, there's more!" and sent me screenshots to prove it.

As you can see, lace is associated with curtains, which are also an important visual motif in their own right. Not only does the fringe of Homulilly's glove in the Rebellion Production Note resemble curtains if you squint, the curtains that rise over Homulilly's entrance in the movie are also framed with lace and have the same overlapping "peacock's tail" shape.

Having established the connection between mandalas, lace, and curtains, let's take a look at the other witch who uses these in her design. Here's Walpurgisnacht's curtains from the opening shot of the original series.

Take a look at the lace at the center. You can see the same "peacock's tail" shape around the edges, and also what looks like a flower or a star or a sun at the center. Compare that with Walpurgisnacht's mandala that appears a few seconds later:

As you can see, both the "peacock's tail" and the flower/star at the center are both visible. (The ring in between is full of tomoe, which I have written about elsewhere, and the hole at the center bears an uncanny resemblance to the black hole at Homulilly's heart in the Production Note sketch above.)

In other words, the mandalas here are visual representations of lace patterns (or vice versa?). All of these elements are combined in the mandala of the Law of Cycles, which is literally a lace pattern with a similar flower/star design at the center:

Finally, there are multiple mandalas at the end of Rebellion featuring all kinds of different designs; this one has both the "peacock's tail" design and the central flower:

All of the mandalas in this scene are made of up of symbols that have appeared throughout Rebellion, most notably the dollhouse scene, although not in the same configurations. While they don't appear as physical lace, they certainly have lace-like patterns like the others.

(As an aside: I've always thought of the mandalas in the show as "doilies" in my head, and it turns out that impression wasn't so far off the mark. Life's funny like that.)

Mandalas are typically a symbol of divinity and world-creation, so it makes sense that Walpurgisnacht (the Stage-Producing witch) and the Law of Cycles (a goddess who has adopted many of Walpurgisnacht's attributes including a cart pulled by the witch's green elephants). Homulilly, too, creates a world inside her labyrinth, and is associated with sewing and thread and lace--and since mandalas and lace appear to be connected, it makes sense that she would have a mandala. Ditto for Devil Homura--who, I should take pains to point out, is also Homulilly (see the runes on the glove in the opening image)--as she has set herself up as the Law of Cycle's opposite.

So what does it all mean? First of all, I think this goes to show how much thought and care went into the creation of this series, and how even small details are connected to each other on a thematic and symbolic level. Secondly, it suggests yet another set of visual parallels between Walpurgisnacht and Homura/Homulilly, albeit on a much more subtle level than I was previously aware of.

Inu Curry, if you're reading this--I bet you thought that no one would ever notice and put the pieces together, but I did and now I'm telling the world. My since compliments, and I can't wait to see what you have in store for us in Walpurgis no Kaiten.

[olayaxnangyaite]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 (I), 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝

NETEYAM SULLY x O'LAYA NANGYA'ITE!METKAYINA!OC!

SUMMARY - THEY DO NOT KNOW IT YET, BUT IT WAS LIKE EYWA MADE THEM FOR EACH OTHER AND THE SEA LED HIM TO HER. THE WATER CONNECTED TWO HEARTS THAT LONGED BUT ONLY GAVE THEM BORROWED TIME. 

WORD COUNT: 1.9K ( I AM SO SORRY)

TRACK #1 : SOMEONE NEW by HOZIER

A/N: NO ONE ASKED FOR T BUT HERE I AM FINALLY WRITING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE SERIES THAT HAS BEEN HAUNTING ME FOR WEEKS.

YOU CAN SEE THAT THERE ARE FEW REPRESENTATIONS OF REAL-LIFE CULTURES IN THIS FANFICTION, I FOUND THAT TAKING INSPIRATION FROM THAT VERY BEAUTIFUL CULTURE SOUND JUST RIGHT AND PERFECT TO REPRESENT THE METKAYINA CLAN! JUST TAKE NOTE THAT THOSE MENTIONED ARE FROM A REAL CULTURE! THAT'S ALL :)

I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY READING THIS ONE, THE TRACK THAT YOU SEE THERE IS THE THEME SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER ( I recommend listening to it while you read). ANYWAYS, IF YOU EVER RAN INTO AN ERROR OR A TYPO, PLEASE DON'T MIND IT HUHUH JUST KNOW THAT ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. ENJOY READING!

“Just breathe…” Ao’nung whispered into her ear as he guided her arms upon shooting the arrow, he held her arms straight and adjusted her posture.

“Focus. Only look at the target” He let go of her and motioned for her to shoot it, she took one more deep breath and closed one eye, she stretched her arms and gracefully let go of the nock. You can see how swiftly the bolt flew and perfectly pierced the bright red target. O’laya lowered her bow and took a good look at her masterpiece, she grinned and looked back to Ao’nung to see his reaction. He had a proud smile on his face but was soon replaced by a boastful smirk.

“That’s good, but of course, not as good as me” He mocked as smugness filled his ego.

O’laya rolled her eyes and swung her bow up trying to playfully hit him, “Oh yeah? Then what if I-” Before she could take a swing at him a loud longhorn roared throughout the village, stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Maybe next time, O’laya–when you can actually hit me” She scrunched her nose in annoyance and dropped her weapon on its rack.

On their way, they stumbled upon Roxto who was also walking his way to the front. He seemed to have heard of the announcement too.

“What’s going on?” Roxto asked as he walked with them, “Maybe it’s a drill? Or the sky people? I think we need to get our things. At last, after years of training we can finally fight” Ao’nung’s expression was filled with determination, he’s been meaning to make his father proud after all that training the two of them endured.

“Skxawng.” She lightly patted the back of his head which caught him off guard. “Us Metkayinas are not at war, and it will never be. Don’t ever wish that upon the people.” she was grave, with her detested towards the vision of war.

The trio arrived at the shore, where the people gather around something or someone. They walked closer and were surprised to see Na’vis, but distinct.

They approached compelling the crowd to make way. Ao’nung eyed the two kids who seemed to be the same age as them. And of course, the visitors did the same.

As Neteyam paid his respects and also observed the features of this new clan. “Oel ngati kameie” O’laya responded to them and showed hospitality towards the newcomers as she stood beside Roxto and Ao’nung. But Neteyam’s sight lingered on the girl, he couldn't seem to spell it out but he was drawn to her.

Her eyes were as blue as the ocean, her hair was like waves filled with sea shells, and her light skin shimmered against the sun.

Roxto was here throwing questions that seemed to mock the Neteyam and Lo’ak, but Neteyam couldn't care less. Usually, he would defend himself, but this time he couldn't seem to move–it was like he was caught in a trance. It was like he had seen the most beautiful creature there is.

“Ao’nung, Roxto. Enough” She scolded bashing their hands away from them. Tsireya who just arrived, also greeted the visitors. O’laya noticed how her eyes casually glanced at Lo’ak, she let out a titter upon realizing that this is going to be a situation in the future.

O’laya, Tsireya, Roxto and Ao’nung had been friends since the day they all reached the age where they could walk out of their pods and run along the shores and dive with the creatures under the water, so in short, they have known each other since they were kids.

O’laya and Ao’nung usually train together as an order from their fathers, Tisreya and her would practice medicine and healing as a time killer–sometimes they would also teach children to follow their steps as they often look up to them.

After a long process of accepting the Sully family, with Ronal and her critical opinions towards the infamous ‘Toruk Makto’, it was decided. The children of the Metkayina were required to teach them how the reef people work as one. And of course, the two girls were delighted to welcome the Sullys to a new home–Ao’nung on the other hand was forced and demanded to follow his father’s orders.

“Come. I and O’laya will show you the village” Tsireya hovered over the family with delight and a welcoming demeanour. They helped carry the baggage and briefly showed them around the village before leading them to their new home.

“This will be your Marui pod, your new home,” O’laya displayed, carefully placing the baggage down near the entrance. Tsireya gaily accommodated the family while O’laya wait for her at the corner.

Nightfall emphasized the luminous beauty of Awa’atlu. The skies were dark, but the village was alive, the ocean was like fireworks and corals had their different colours. The people were preparing for their supper, it was an annual festival that the Metkayinas perform. It was a way to keep culture humming and alive, it pays respect to the ancestors, and it showcase joy and appreciation towards the gifts and blessings. Looks like the Sullys were just in time, this somewhat serves as a welcoming ceremony. It just so happens that it was also a welcoming ceremony that the Chief arranged.

Roxto, who insisted to invite the Sullys, came to the ceremony with them. The family came and was surprised with the feast and the majestic harmony of the instruments, the solemn pound of the drum and the exquisite flow of the Pūkāea.

Neteyam and the other kids were surely amazed to be awakened to another culture and to open their eyes to a fresh start. They sang with apparent joy on their faces and danced with the wind barefoot on the sand.

The Chief and the Tsahik had arrived not long after, the people announced with lilting to respect their entrance. Behind them were the reef children and followed by O’laya who was at the very back.

Tsireya as the Tsakarem, wore a unique loincloth that was covered with pearls and corals. Ao’nung wore a bright shoulder and waist garment just like his father.

O’laya on the other hand, wore a kelp-like loincloth with braided ends. Hanging pearls and shiny shells would lightly clang as she walked, her hair moderately designed by specifically purple shells. She wore very faint tattoos on her shoulder blades and her neck.

And of course, Neteyam’s focus would soon be on the girl once again. His mouth narrowly agape from the sight, he was denying it in his mind and was trying his best to keep his head away from her. But he just can’t and I don’t think he won’t anytime soon. All the reef people had their unique designs, but for Neteyam, O’laya was simply different. And at this moment, even if Neteyam would restrict himself, he knew, that that girl across the shore would be the end of him.

The ceremony continued and the people feasted on the food that was handmade by the best culinarian in the village. The ceremony was just splendid, it was a night of colours and signing. Tsireya performed as a majestic dancer, side-by-side with O’laya, who sang with her. The men of Metayina, including Ao’nung and Roxto, had performed a very strong and emotional war dance that represented the tribe’s pride.

“Ah…Jake Sully!” Tonowari greeted with enticement, “I see you have met the people. This right here, is Pōwhiri. A welcoming ceremony” he explained with pride for his culture.

“Irayo, Tonowari. This is well appreciated by me–by us family. Thank you” He beamed, with Tuk by his side–who was also amazed by the dancing children.

“zola‘u nìprrte’, Jake Sully.” it was a fatherly conversation that no one intend to listen to, we all know how fathers talk. “Come. I will introduce you to my people.”

After the main event, The people subdued and enjoyed the party to themselves. Tsireya and O’laya parted ways and strolled through the ceremony by themselves. The music was still there, but it was now in a calm that would recreate the relaxing sound of the sea. The background filled with laughter and faint chatter, the people drinking booze and enjoying themselves.

“You should talk to her..” Kiri suggested, eyeing her brother the whole ceremony and noticing how he would constantly look for her. “Huh?” Proving that he was lost in her once again, not even hearing what Kiri had said. “You are no better than Lo’ak” she teased.

“Just look at her, Kiri” His eyes soften at her, and his expression grew calmer. It was like there are visible hearts in his eyes. “Nothing will happen if you just look at her. Talk to her, brother.” Kriri was right, she knew how much head over heels Neteyam was. And it was rare, she had never seen him so focused and so determined to someone.

The boy sighed and grabbed all his courage to follow his sister’s wishes. He pushed himself into the crowd and tried his best to excuse himself to walk to her. And finally, he was now a few feet away from her. She turned in his direction and noticed that he was lingering. O’laya smiled at him and didn't want him to think of her as a snob. Neteyam soon proceeded to her and finally, the two met. “Hey,” Neteyam smiled and stood just beside her.

“Did Ao’nung insist you drink it?” She assumed it was like she already knew what they were up to this whole time. “Yeah, he said ‘To be true Metkayina, you must drink the waipai’” He mimicked the way he talked. O’laya found it hilarious and crackled at his mockery, Neteyam’s tail swang joyfully and was proud to make her laugh effortlessly.

“Neteyam Sully?” She guessed, still not knowing which is which between him and his brother. And he nodded with acknowledgement. “Enjoying the ceremony, I see”

“Yeah. The food is great, Thank you” Neteyam replied, there was a pause after his reply. Rather an awkward silence between them as both didn't know what to talk about. “ did not like the waipai though…” He mentioned,

“I see, I can smell the Waipai on you. When you drink it, everybody could smell it. “ She managed to blurt out. “ yeah, it was too late when I realized he was tricking me.”

During the whole ceremony, Neteyam and O’laya would talk and laugh, sometimes O’laya would almost run out of breath from too much laughter. He would crack jokes and tell stories back from home, some were not even worth laughing at but she did.

The two were lost in their little world, talking about everything, It was the first words they shared but seemed like they have known eachother for too long. A bond of friendship was formed in a matter of just two conversations about how they would train and how important their roles were to their clans.

They were strangers to eachother, someone new. But Neteyam found something in her that he didn’t know that he needed, and that night for him could last forever until- “Neteyam!” a small and childlike voice called out for th boy, cutting off their connection. “Let’s go home” Tuk, who was a few feet away was calling out with the rest of his family.

He looked back at O’laya not wanting to leave her side, waiting for an assurance for him to leave. “Go ahead, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She confirmed. He grinned at the thought of seeing her again and soon followed his family.

A/N : OMG THIS WAS FUCKING LONG FOR A FIRST CHAPTER. I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE IF YOU FOUND THIS CHAPTER EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG. I AM ASLSO APOLOGIZING FOR THE TERRIBLE WRITING SKILLS, I AM STILL STARTING ANG I WOULD LOVE TO LEARN AND NOT TO MENTION, THIS CHAPTER IS SLOW BURN AT IT'S SLOWEST. ANYWAYS, I WILL BE POSTING THE CHAPTER TWO VERY SOON, IM ACTUALLY WRITING IT AT THIS VERY MOMENT. IF YOU EVER RAN INTO ANY ERRORS OR TYPOS, DO NOT BE AFRAID TO DM OR MENTION IT TO ME, I WILL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO CORRECT IT. AND OFC SUGGESTIONS AND REQUESTS FOR THIS SERIES IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE OPEN. MY DMs ARE OPEN SO CHAT ME UP, LETS BE BFFS GUYS MUAH <333333

IF YOU EVER WANT TO BE IN A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES, PLEASE, PLEASE MY DMS IS ALWAYS OPEN 24/7

[bamboobrat]

succession s4 e4 recap: ken brings a strap-on to a gunfight

I'M PSYCHIC! I'M PSYCHIC!

^^ from my recap of season 4, episode 1

turns out succession really is channeling their inner CW teen show. translation:

SHIV IS PREGNANT!

what gave it away? her face. oh, and she ordered a club soda with a closed top at the dive bar in episode two. don't think i didn't notice.

anyway, i know she's all poly representation and all, but let's be honest with ourselves: it's toms baby. she's planning her 20 week ultrasound, so i reckon.... italy?

kendall arrives at logan's makeshift wake/board meeting and overhears hugo in the lobby.

now, if you overheard someone saying "you fucked me in the ass with a strap-on" on the phone, would you guess that someone was talking to their daughter?

only on succession.

i'm not going to use space showing you hugos face, so let me summarize: his daughter sold stocks right before the news of logan's death was made public. he tells kendall. kendall has leverage.

now, enough hugo.

MARCIA IS BACK!!!

the girlies love marcia. lying about having intimate conversations with logan every night? we love that.

death truly does become her.

also, did anyone else pick up on the fact that cyd simply said "sorry babe" to kendall as he walked by?

supportive queen!

greg is also trying to be supportive and we collectively join in on the kids giving him serious side eye (or ignoring him altogether).

much like the rest of the roy family, he is incapable of any type of normal hug.

the kids discuss marcia and kerry, and roman notes that he thinks kerry is "in marcias trunk. inside an anaconda. inside a sarcophagus." for a pre-grieved boy who doesn't want to make phone sex jokes about his late dad, he's still got it.

the suits are also there, gathering in the kitchen to look at the china.

just two gal-pals backing each other in business and sitting on each other's faces

tom receives a proper whooping from karl and eats a seafood taco.

i know i should aim higher in my important trade of recaps and give you more detail, but i can't. i shan't. it is what it is.

oh, but important: karl is in on a greek island with his brother-in-law.

and "your wife doesn't even like you" is a wonderful insult.

shiv gives us an accurate representation of what it is like to talk to a swede:

for context, i'm norwegian. the banter is scandi culture.

saying "bad one" when your dad dies? also scandi culture.

willa is truly winning in this episode. she gets logan's apartment, a dig at marcia AND a moneymoon touring the midwest. cheese curds all the way.

and they save a bunch on realtor fees, of course.

the gang finds a piece of paper.

we are getting so much gerri/frank/karl content this season, i am chuffed! yes, sure, the sibling dynamic is interesting, but the gerkrank (?) vibes are strong!

they all make very funny jokes about throwing the piece of paper in the toilet. haha comedy gold.

kendall manages to make his brother and sister laugh for once in his life. all it took was for him to make a joke about their dad not being a pedo.

i'm going to make obit decoding my new thing.

a summary of logan:

threw phones at staff

racist

racist, again

relaxed about sexual assault

never payed a penny of tax

not a pedo

wouldn't even hug his grandkids

kendall's name is on the piece of paper. i reckon it's from around early season 1 times, maybe even before then.

it's not certain if the name has been underlined or crossed out. (but really, does logan strike you as the type of man who would underline anything?)

greg is also mentioned with a bunch of ????? and the big bozo deigns to suggest he might be logan's #2.

frank reacts appropriately:

they keep putting roman and gerri in the same frame.

AS IF i wouldn't notice. i see you, lorene. doing the lords work.

they rag on greg some more. it's a doodle, fuckface.

ken shares a moment with his #1 dad.

frank: he was an old bastard and he loved you me: sobbing

ken realizing he wants back in? that's self-destruction, bby!

shiv continues to hit rock bottom....

with a lil pregnancy hint and some narcisissm, framing it as if she's the only one who lost something she cared about.

but is she talking about logan? or tom? or none? or both?

i need a shiv redemption arc soon. it's beginning to feel so sexist, and not in a critique kind of way.

spooky embryo mencken is on his way to join the rest of the right wing crazies in logans eulogy.

if you are in need of motivation, work every day in your life to ensure a right wing guy will never feel inclined to do a speech at your funeral.

or, live a life that will make greg never want to talk to you. ever.

we all know tom wishes he'd taken that route.

sandy is smiling at logan being dead. sandy is us<3

why is this sex party so sad?

marcia sends kerry in a taxi to a subway so she can go home to her little apartment.

last time we see her, or does she have an unborn baby up her sleeve?

<3 roman showing kerry kindness and then immediately shitting on tom's redemption tour <3

wambsgans deserves to grovel.

stewy is a softie when it comes to ken.

his pubes got a little singed last time, but they are in love.

willa is enjoying her new apartment, as she should.

her mom is me at a buffet.

shiv gets shivved as her brothers decide to take on the role of CEO without her.

redemption arc! redemption arc! redemption arc!

obligatory screengrab that is just in here because gerri looks cute:

i couldn't even bother coming up with an excuse for this one.

chant with me: STE-WY! STE-WY! STE-WY!

power move from a power bottom. jk he is obvi a top.

and with stewy in the room, the power dynamic shifts to favor the siblings.

gerri makes a very slight move, but backs up immediately.

(don't think i don't notice that roman is still in this frame, guys. it's dark, but i notice.)

ken and his homey romey are the new interim CEOs. we all know what a thankful job that is...

shiv trips and falls and i want to kms.

do i need to chant again?

please, for the love of god, give shiv a win. the baby is not a win.

hugo and karolina suggest to the newly appointed CEOs that they throw their dead dad under the bus. roman reacts the way an emotionally mature person would:

utter distain.

ken, however, does not.

this photo will be in his phone and in his subconscience forever. the question of whether his dad loved him or not anthropomorphized.

so he tells hugo to go ahead with the "shit on logan roy" communcation strategy.

it's what his father would do.

he is pleased. and we, my girlies, are one step closer to kendall having a full godfather-like arc.

pretty sure i predicted that too, back in the day.

or is episode 4 too early to peak for our dear ken? time will tell.

next week: the gang travels to norway and i go absolutely bonkers.

[jentledaisies]

NOW LOADING. . . THEY GET YOU

[ gif by @laalisas ]

✎ in which your lover sweeps you into the beginning of forever after OR in which the mafia!pinks get what they want; you.

WARNINGS .ᐟ ⤷ Sexual content but nothing graphic, Illusions to Sexual Assault, Manipulation, Toxic Relationships, Graphic scenes of violence and death.

disclaimer: This is not in any way shape or form a representation of Jisoo, Jennie, Rosè, Lisa, or Blackpink as a whole. All reactions, actions, thoughts, words, and general emotions are fiction and created by me. The behavior shown in these reactions is toxic and unhealthy but fantasized romantically for simply that, fantasy. None of this should be taken seriously or sought after in real life, or performed. please do not romanticize this behavior/mindset in real life as it is unhealthy and toxic, and if you or anyone you know is in such an environment, should be taken out of it immediately. Again, this blog is purely fiction, and all acts taken place in this blog should remain so. ↳ None of my characters, yandere or otherwise, will ever nor would ever perform, act, or consider sexual activities of any sort without consent. full stop. Any and all sexual acts are done with the full consent of all parties taking place. i will never, ever, ever write otherwise or even consider writing otherwise.

[KIM JISOO]

[ gif by @kimjisoo ]

You were a very naive person, Jisoo knew this after just a day of following you. After leaving the flower shop she had returned to headquarters, where she had all her equipment. From there it was all too easy to hack into the shop's online history, seeing that you did, luckily for her unfortunate for you, pay with a card. After getting your name she was able to track down where you work and receive all your personal information. From there she had Chaeng place cameras in your apartment and extra personal cameras in your work. She was quite lucky to have been captured into your following, you were an easy girl to track. You stayed mainly at home save for the days you had work and when you went to get groceries. There were the odd days when you went out to meet friends or gather some more books to add to your large collection. On those days all Jisoo had to do was alert a group of subordinates and they'd follow you, sending updates every 10 minutes.

Jisoo was lucky, for all three of the other leaders had found their loves obsessions already and were more than eager to help Jisoo capture you. Jennie had placed everything on halt, all deals, meetings, etc. put on hold until they got you. You were top priority. Chaeng was in charge of your in-person surveillance, Lisa was preparing to have another lover to chip, and Jennie was busy overseeing it all as though it was any other important operation.

That all led to now, 2 weeks later with Jisoo staring longingly at you through the screen that showed the live feed from your apartment. There you sat on your couch, windows open to the light rain and the sweet smell it brought, in an oversized sweater and a book in your hands.

2 weeks. It had been 2 weeks of planning, talking with the other girls, discussing the best way to get you quickly without creating fear in your mind. 2 weeks of sheer torture of having you so close but unable to bring you into her arms. 2 weeks of watching your hands wander late at night, breathy moans spilling from your lips. 2 weeks of seeing you live your boring, mundane life, knowing that you could be living a much more satisfying life by her side.

Jisoo's thoughts drifted off from seeing you in such a domestic scene, imagining what it'll be like when she finally has you. As she snapped back to reality she saw you gone from the living room, switching the camera until she got to the one in your room, being met with the teasing image of your bare body as you got ready for work. Jisoo quickly transferred the screen onto her phone before rushing out of her tech room and into the private lounge where the other girls were.

"It's time. Let's go get my Darling, I've waited so long." Jisoo ordered and all the girls sprung up, already ready in their operation clothes. They filed into the large SUV all the equipment ready to grab you, the selected teams of subordinates following in other cars.

It was planned that they would get you tonight. They would sneak a special drug that Lisa prepared into a water bottle you would drink from during your break. You'd go outside for the breath of fresh air you always get from the busy department store, in the secluded alley outback where Chaeng and Jennie would be waiting to grab your drugged body and get you into the van. All the while this was happening, Alpha team was taking down all the cameras in your apartment and then messing with the gas lines before leaving the stove on and leaving.

All that was left of you was the memory that you disappeared from work during your break, and then your apartment burned down, leaving no salvageable items. All the world knew of you now, was that you were on the run, possibly far from Korea, where anyone knows you. But you were right where you were supposed to be, with Jisoo.

[KIM JENNIE]

[ gif by @jaennie ]

Silence rang out after the three shots hit their marks, the bodies of the three men bleeding onto the porcelain black and white tiling of the ground. Your breaths came out in heavy gasps as you realized that you had just been saved from the hands of your captors by another captor. Jennie’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, your back flush with her front. The three other girls with her spread out in front of the two of you, guns drawn in their hands and pointed out, ready to shoot.

"Choi Lee-Hyun! Show yourself, you bastard!" Jennie yelled out into the now silent diner, a man dressed in an obnoxious purple fur coat stepped out.

"Miss Kim, Miss Kim, Miss Park, and Miss Manobal. How wonderful to meet you. Although, I had hoped to take care of you before you could see my face." He spoke clearly with precise calmness, but burning anger could be seen in the way he held his body and glared at the four girls.

"You dare try and ambush us?" Rosé sneered angrily, both her hands holding guns aimed toward the man. “We offered to come to negotiate peace, and you try to betray us. You weren’t even smart about it, dumbass. You got caught, do you have a death wish?”

“The only deaths I wish for are the deaths of you and your little girl bands, Miss Park.” Lee-Hyun spat in retaliation, pulling out guns of his own. Jennie’s arm tightens around you as she pulls you further into her for protection. Her gun fires off a shot in warning, the milkshake glass on the counter behind the obnoxious man exploding from the force of the bullet.

"The only death you're getting is your own, asshole. We may have come in peace, but we're not stupid. Did you really think we wouldn't prepare for if you betrayed us?" Jennie spoke from behind you, her voice calm and cool but you could feel the tenseness in her body. "You're fucked, man. You should've just taken the money and ran like we agreed to. At least then you'd keep your life."

Lee-Hyun opened his mouth to retaliate but all the girls started firing off bullets, hitting the kneecaps of every rival gang member there. Jisoo broke off from the girls and ran to the wall by the door while pulling something from her coat. The next thing you knew the entire wall was doused in flames, the orange streaks of heat spreading across the walls and floor at an alarming pace, as though there was gasoline drenching the corners. Jennie started pulling you with her outside and you vaguely register the other girls rushing out too. Fire trucks are already on scene, but you know that there's nothing they could do now, the entire establishment already fully engulfed in flames, the doorway you just came through collapsing.

A shock blanket is wrapped around you from behind and you're suddenly made aware that Jennie is no longer holding onto you. The kind lady behind you is speaking in a comforting tone, her voice soft and familiar, but you can only focus on the burning building in front of you. The first person inside started screaming as the roof caved in, and tears fell from your eyes in horror. You're being pushed by the kind lady now, ushered away from all the firetrucks struggling to unload the water pipes. You start to question why you are being led to a dark SUV much too late, for Lisa steps in front of you and holds a damp cloth to your mouth and nose, your mind going hazy immediately as she lifts you into the car with Rosé. Your head is placed on Jennie's lap as she smiles at you before your entire world goes dark.

[PARK CHAEYOUNG / ROSÉ]

[ gif by @lavenderosie ]

Rosé was absolutely livid at the fact that she still didn't have you in her arms. There was no particular reason why after a month you still weren't in her possession other than the fact that the mafia world was busy lately. But that's not what mattered, what mattered was you were talking to your friend about auditioning to be a stripper at her club! Which was fine, she'd be perfectly fine with you being a stripper, as long as it's only at her club. But, you weren't with her yet. You were hers, everyone knew that by now, everyone but you.

As she watched your audition from the extra camera she had Jisoo install she gritted her teeth at your unmarked skin. Your beautiful, perfect skin, completely bare of Rosé's marks. Your body belonged to her, you belonged to her, yet there was nothing showing it. Why? Because Choi fucking Lee-Hyun decided now would be a good time to pick a fight. Rosé was fucking pissed.

And on top of all that, you looked absolutely delectable in the black one-piece with gold chains. You always looked good but fuck, when you flipped your hair and collapsed into that body roll all Rosé could think of was having you under her. Making you cum at least three times on her fingers before moving onto her tongue, finally ending with you clenching around her strap as she fucks you dumb. That's not what was making her mad, it was actually making her more excited to have you. What made her mad was that she could see the new security guy she hired looking at you with longing and lust, knowing he was thinking of doing the same thing. She sees him lick at his lips as you grind onto the pole and she snaps.

Shoving away from the table that held her laptop, Rosé stood up. She groaned as she felt her arousal coat her underwear, the feeling making her more desperate to have you here so she can order you to clean up the mess you made. She grabs a gun from her personal collection, tucking it into the waistband of your pants under your jacket, grabbing an extra one to place in her shoe holster. A couple of knives are added in hidden places before finally she grabs the bottle of chloroform Lisa gave her. She stormed out to her car, no plan in mind, just the fact that she would have you today, and she'd kill anyone in her way. Well, she'd kill that security guard anyway, he's a little too annoying.

The engine of her sports car practically purrs as she speeds through the streets of Seoul, eager to finally old you. She arrives at the club in record time, cocking her gun as she steps out. She's glad for her impatience as she's drawn to the alley between the bar and another shop by your whimpers.

"Please, stop. I don't want this." As she rounds the corner she's met with the sight of you being groped by that fucking security guard, makeup smeared under your eyes from crying as you try and shrink away but the wall won't let you.

"Aw c'mon. You were dancing like a little slut in there, you clearly want it. It's obvious how desperate you are so let me have my fun and be a good whore." He reaches up to yank at the collar of the dress you now wore but is stopped by Rosé's shout of anger.

"Yah, you fucking piece of shit! Get your hands off my girl!" Rosé is shaking in anger as he turns to face her with an unimpressed look.

"Fuck off. Who do you think you are, ordering me around? I'll give you her once I'm done, you can have my sloppy seconds. Desperate bitch.”

Rosé doesn't say anything, shooting a shot off at his foot, laughing as the blood splatters up his leg. You run away from his loosened grip and hide behind Rosé, your hands gripping her waist to keep her in front of you. The smile on her face becomes genuine at your touch.

"Listen to me, I need you to go and hide in my car. It's the red one, go." Rosé tells you over her shoulder, advancing on the man once she hears the door of her car shut.

She shoots another bullet into his other foot, tucking the gun away after that, he deserved to be tortured to death. She pulls out her daggers from where they were hidden, waiting patiently for the man to stop screaming.

"I'm Rosé. You should've listened to me when I told you to get your hands off my girl." His eyes widen as Rosé sends him a cocky smirk, realizing just how badly he fucked up. He starts begging and whimpering for his life, but all Rosé does is give him a haunting smile before bringing the small blade down.

Rosé opens her door before collapsing down into the driver's seat of her car, letting out a tired sigh before looking over at you. Your eyes widen at her now crimson-soaked hoodie, faint patches of the original white sticking out. You start fumbling with the door but it remains closed as Rosé wets a cloth with a substance from the bottle in the cupholder. And when she greets you by name your eyes start to tear up in fear before she's knocked into a state of rest from the chemical cloth

[LALISA MANOBAL / LISA]

[ gif by @luxyjenlisa ]

Someone is shouting. But all Lisa can focus on is your sweet form laying on the ground, bleeding from the wound in your abdomen. Someone is shouting at her, she realizes as she starts to come back to reality. The meeting room is cleared of anyone who isn't part of her gang, except for you. There’s one of her subordinates in front of her, shouting to bring her back from her reverie, she looks quite sorry she was ever born when Lisa sends her a scathing glare on reflex. She’s asking if they should finish you off, soldiers already dragging the fat old man's body out, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. She sees hands reaching toward your body before she can speak and her body stiffens in preparation to run to you.

"Touch her and I will dissect your hands from your body and make you eat them." She found herself growling at the poor soldier. At the gobsmacked stares she receives, she straightens up and clears her throat before speaking in a hard, clear tone. "From this point on, this woman is mine. She belongs to me and I will punish anyone who hurts my Angel. Now stop standing around like useless idiots and get me my first aid kit. You! Go get a stretcher and prepare my medical room."

That seemed to snap them out of it as everyone moved into action and various people rushed around the room and out of the room. Nobody touched you, however, even to help you, as they were too scared of Lisa. You looked up at Lisa as she came closer to you, your vision blurry but still able to see as the cold, uncaring woman turned warm and soft as she reassured you that you'd be ok. A pressure on your wound has you screaming out until you are once again shushed by her reassuring words before there's a prick in your arm and you fade into darkness.

----

You wake up in a white room, it's not a hospital room but it definitely feels like one. It was clean and bright, and that horrible smell of alcohol that breathes in the hospital was still there, but it was faint. That's where the similarities stopped. You were on a very large bed with a memory foam mattress and plush pillows under you. Panic starts to settle into you as you start recalling the events that took place before you had fallen into your slumber. You were shot, and you're assuming the rest of the gang left you, you weren't important enough to save and they were new and already risking a lot by agreeing to meet with BP.

The machine hooked up to you starts speeding up in beeps as your breath grows heavier, panic setting in full now. You toss the sheets off your body, seeing yourself dressed in a t-shirt and sweats instead of those horrible skintight dresses they would make you wear at your gang. You jump out of bed and lung towards the door but are stopped by a sharp tug on your arm and a flash of pain. You turn and see an IV needle connected to your arm, the tape holding it in place holding it fast. ou don't think about it when you rip it out of your arm, tearing the tape. You quickly come to regret it however when you end up tearing a large gash right over your vein, blood gushing down. You take a moment to silently scream, you didn't want your captors to know you were awake, before lunging towards the door again, luckily finding it open.

However, as you swing the door open, you are met with the tall figure of Lisa, who looks at you in surprise and happiness, until her eyes land on your injured arm. She immediately pushes you back into the room, easily guiding you back into the bed and immediately grabbing the necessary items to wrap your arm. She doesn't talk while she wraps your arm but when you start to struggle and fight when she goes to put a new needle in your other arm she pins you down on the bed and hovers over your body. A sweet smile on her face and a horrifyingly loving look in her eyes.

"Baby, stop fighting. They can't hurt you now, or ever again, don't worry. I'll keep you safe. Forever, I promise."

jentledaisies © 2024 no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion advised, your media consumption is your responsibility

[enbycrip]

ID: a Facebook post by Em Jay:

“Do any of you remember when I was posting about the recent scientific revelation that Cheddar Man was actually very dark-skinned and how pale skin is soooo much of a newer phenomenon (according to studies, pale skin began appearing in the human genome roughly 4,000 years ago as opposed to the previous assumption of 40,000 years ago) than originally surmised? A new genome sequencing study adds the famous 'Otzi the Iceman' to the list of incorrectly reconstructed (referring to the long-haired, pale-skinned rendering of him found in the Italian museum next to his real remains) ancient humans, as it has been revealed he was dark skinned and balding! The initial discovery of Otzi the Iceman in 1991 (on the Italian side of the Italian/Austrian border) was of enormous import for the scientific community for several reasons; Otzi is the oldest 'wet mummy' yet found and the clothes and equipment he was unearthed with are incomprehensibly unique as no other organic material from the Copper Age has survived. He also became popular for his 61 tattoos, which are the oldest preserved tattoos known to date. I absolutely love studies/revelations like this because (borrowing a lovely sentiment from co-author of the study Johannes Krause) they truly reflect our own biases in assuming what a person from that time looked like, and to use my own words, challenges many of us to re- examine the appearance of our ancient human ancestors in general. "The Iceman's new genome also reveals he had male-pattern baldness and much darker skin than artistic representations suggest. Genes conferring light skin tones didn't become prevalent until 4,000 to 3,000 years ago when early farmers started eating plant-based diets and didn't get as much vitamin D from fish and meat as hunter-gathers did, Krause says.

“As Ötzi and other ancient people's DNA illustrate, the skin color genetic changes took thousands of years to become commonplace in Europe. 'People that lived in Europe between 40,000 years ago and 8,000 years ago were as dark as people in Africa, which makes a lot of sense because [Africa is] where humans came from," he says. "We have always imagined that [Europeans] became light-skinned much faster. But now it seems that this happened actually quite late in human history!" (excerpt in quotations from Science News article by Tina Hesman Seay) Below are photos of Otzi, the first taken in 1991 shortly after he was discovered by 2 hikers, his naturally mummified body after he was carefully unearthed from the ice and his incorrect/false rendering with pale skin of 2011, and I hope to return to add a correct/more accurate rendering of him if/when a new one is made!”

Photos show 1) a pair of light-skinned, brown-haired hikers with brown beards, dressed in very 1980s clothing, with the exposed body of Otzi in situ in the ice where they found his body; 2) two photographs of Otzi’s preserved body from the top and back, 3) a close-up photo of Otzi’s preserved hand 4) an inaccurate reconstruction of Otzi in life, showing him as a light-skinned white man.

[firediamondsv]

Fighting, Part One

This is the beginning of the story of how Valtor and I ended up fighting his creators.

But first, some terminology

Being - Equivalent to a mythological god. Something, something, yeah the English language already has a term for this, but it doesn't really feel right to describe powerful entities that aren't part of this dimension's mythology that way.

Technicalities - The natural properties of a person, being, dimension, etc. Usually used to describe things that don't exist in this dimension, like magic or certain kinds of energy.

Multidimensional Theory - The belief that every story is a representation of another dimension.

A Brief Explanation of Naomi History

When I was a child, I was found by Starana, a multidimensional who had been given the power to do anything. I imagine she saw some potential in me, since I had been interested from a young age in trying to figure out why conflict happens, especially through watching my mom play Kingdom Hearts or in shows like Winx. But I was 7, and I couldn't really fight for anything myself yet.

Unfortunately, the technicalities of this dimension prevent multidimensional involvement, but Starana still did everything she could to help me through my difficult childhood. Eventually, when I was a little older, she invited me to Naomi, a dimension she had created, and extended the invitation to help her design it. That gave me a reason to begin to explore the full potential of what I could do in the multidimensional universe, a space where I could finally do what felt right for me. I made friends, realized my dream of standing up for people who couldn't protect themselves, and inevitably made enemies. Some of those enemies attacked Naomi. I defended it, found some allies, and discovered that the information I had gathered from studying conflict made me rather skilled at confrontation. And then things became so much worse for me in this dimension, and the only way for me to get out of that situation was to lose all my childhood memory. I lost my connection with Naomi and the multidimensional universe, and no one knew if I would return.

My Mysterious Desire to Confront People

I returned to the multidimensional universe about a year later, an entirely different person with no memory of their horrible past and little memory of my multidimensional adventures. The memory loss had the intended effect: I could finally be happy and explore my identity freely. All I was left with was a hole where my childhood memory was and the desire to make a difference in the multidimensional universe. Without knowing where that desire came from or that I had done this before, I began to act on that feeling through confronting those who hurt people I cared about in the dimensions represented by the shows I watched at the time. I also helped the allies I had made as a child continue to protect Naomi from the constant attacks it was experiencing (but that's a story for another time).

Enter 4. When he attacked Naomi for the first time in 2011, he saw me as the biggest threat despite having no magic or energy of my own. I was far from the most powerful of our team, and I certainly didn't want power. I was happy enough just using my confrontation skills. Despite that, I would prove him right. Those skills and my natural understanding of psychology made me, even at age 14, a formidable opponent. Of course, I didn't really see that in myself then, so I probably just brushed off his perspective as not knowing me well enough yet. My friends and I defeated him a few months later, and just in time! Later that week, I would start watching Winx 3, and it would change my life.

My Initial Interpretation of Winx 3

Since Winx 3 was by far the most interesting thing I had ever seen, I threw everything I had into understanding it. After watching the backstory shown in episode 7, paying very close attention to Valtor's part of it (oh my god, he was created by beings!), I came up with two theories. Either he's truly a horrible person and did everything his creators wanted him to do by choice, or he isn't a horrible person at all and experienced horrific abuse by his creators' hands. I hoped that by the end of the season, I would be able to confirm if either of those theories were correct. Unfortunately, as evidenced by his creators' extreme hatred of him at the end, it was the latter.

He and the season also made me feel things I had never felt before. By the end of that first viewing, I was completely obsessed with this being-level mess. (I suppose that could refer either to the Winx universe or to Valtor himself.) I hated him at first, but not as much as his creators. In true early adolescent everstar fashion, that hatred only made me want to confront him and try to hold him accountable for everything he did. My other goal to achieve by the end of the season was to figure out a way to talk to him that didn't interfere with the plot of the show. Him being destroyed made that very convenient for me.

Winx Nothingness

Since Valtor was created out of an essence and disappeared completely without leaving a physical body behind when he was destroyed, my multidimensional experience led me to the conclusion that essences can't be completely destroyed. With that technicality, I figured out that he had gone to a dimension I called nonexistence, and most importantly, that I could get him out of that dimension and confront him like I wanted to. I could prove my theory that he had been abused by his creators for an impossibly long length of time and also wanted to see how my confrontation skills compared to his. So, after getting my friends' permission to bring him to Naomi, I showed him a way out of nonexistence, ensuring that he could only go where I wanted him to.

Even though it was scary for me at first, we both look back at Winx Nothingness as a fun experience of confrontation. As 4 was right about me, Valtor was also surprised that I could match him in terms of confrontation skills. Even then, I knew it would take some time for me to get the confirmation I wanted about his creators' hatred of him.

The plan was always to send him back to nonexistence, but somewhere in those three weeks in January 2012, he complained to me about how horrible it was. He had been forced to relive the worst experience of his existence - being destroyed - over and over again. (God, the universe really couldn't give him a break.) It didn't feel right for me to sentence someone to that fate for all eternity, so I began constructing a plan to convince my allies to let me send him to Naomi jail instead. If I could get him to confirm for me that he had been abused by his creators since the beginning of the universe, that would be enough. But he was guarded, and so was I. It might take everything I have, but it would be worth it.

It took a few more confrontations, but I was finally able to piss him off enough so that he'd defensively talk about his past. I had the information I needed, and all that was left to do was wait until the scheduled end of the happening. When that day came and we had our final confrontation, he expected me to send him back to nonexistence. I said no, that despite the fact that my hatred of him had only grown, I'm not that horrible of a person. I sent him to Naomi jail, and all was peaceful until 4 attacked Naomi again that summer.

Part two coming soon.

[tantumuna]

Thoughts on Zora Biology

In this essay I will combine all the information I’ve gathered from the game with all the information I know about the real-life counterparts to the animals Zora are based on and from there I will not only make completely accurate assumptions about how they must be but also bring up a few things that are deeply concerning from an evolutionary standpoint.

Below a read more for your sanity and mine.

Overview

This is based solely on the Zora as they appear in Breath of the Wild/Tears of the kingdom with only minor consideration for how they’ve appeared in other installments. While chronically, BotW/TotK is very early in the Zelda timeline, the designs are the most recent iteration and likely a good representation for what Zora are supposed to be

The faults of this research -

They are obviously a fantasy species and may not correspond directly with their real-life counterparts, however, it’s about all we have to go on so this is what I’ll use

There is not a lot of diversity shown in the Zora, but the inclusion of a mysterious domain far far away in TotK implies there is more than meets the eye

I’m refusing to cite any sources because this is mostly me rambling about a niche interest so. allow me my peculiarities

This is very unorganized and stream of thought so godspeed

Methods include:

Research from the game, including both written and physical

I am a 3D modeler who likes to make fanart of these games, so I use the in game 3D models as reference

Research on real life counterpart animals and oceanology

Key Takeaways

Zora come in three main species

Dolphin (the most prevalent)

Ray

Only Yona and Muzu appear in the series, but Yona coming from another domain implies there are other Rays, for this reason, I am ranking them as the second most common type

Shark

Sidon is the only shark Zora present in the series, and based on the shape of his nose, I have deduced he is likely of the Hammerhead family, more specifically the Bonnethead shark, which has the curved nose crest, whereas most Hammerheads have a straight crest.

Side notes:

Other variations of zora have appeared in different installments and look most closely related to jelly fish, but we are counting this as an outlier for the moment because they are not even remotely related to any of the other species so what am I supposed to do with that

Dorephan is a whale and is likewise the only whale that is present in the series; however, all dolphins are whales. It might be more correct to say that Whale is the most prevalent type of Zora but since they look more similarly to dolphins (all dolphins are whales, not all whales are dolphins) i’m just gonna say Dolphin

Despite their difference in appearance, all Zora are of the same species or of at least close enough resemblance that they are able to intermingle - this is especially important to note for means of reproduction, as if they were all different species too far apart to reproduce, it would not make sense for Yona and Sidon to get married, as they wouldn’t be able to have children. More will be explained on this later down, including thoughts on lineage.

Physical Appearance

Teeth:

Dolphin Zora appear to have the most humanoid sets of teeth, including all flat teeth save for 4 canines in the 4 corners of the mouth

Shark and Ray Zora have all sharp teeth, implying they are primarily carnivores, as sharp teeth are not designed to chew on vegetation.

Outliers:

Dorephan has entirely flat teeth; he appears most similarly to a Blue Whale, which filter feed, but it is important to note that Dorephan does not have baleen

Mipha also has entirely flat teeth despite being more obviously a dolphin

Mipha’s model also does not include a bottom row of teeth, though this was likely done as a game optimization choice; her mouth is so small we never see bottom teeth and therefore it makes no sense to have the game load extra mesh when there’s no use for it

Neck:

All Zora wear some type of neck ornamentation

It’s also worth noting that despite not having much of a neck, Dorephan still wears neck ornamentation. not really sure what his deal is

Necks appear to be very long and very thin, which I believe makes the neck ornamentation entirely necessary. Zora have very large heads, and the size of their necks would not be enough to support them outside of water

Zora likely began to wear neck ornamentation as they left the water in early evolution in order to hold their heads upright. In water, the length/size of their neck would be less of a detriment

There are real societies today that practice elongating the neck and thusly wear rings their whole live to support their heads, so it’s not that crazy to think that the Zora either do it out of necessity or have a similar tradition

Zora cannot go without neck ornamentation or they will not be able to hold up their heads outside of water and would suffer a neck break.

Ray Zora have notably shorter necks, but they have much larger heads which accounts for them still having ornamentation, but it is shorter, as they likely need less support because their heads are closer to their shoulders.

Gills:

Zora can breath in and out of water, so they likely have a developed set of lungs in addition to gills

They have less gills than their counterpart animals tend to, but this is likely because they have the addition of lungs

Comparatively, species like sharks have the ability to breathe through their skin. Some can only breathe like this (which is where the rumor that sharks can never stop moving came from, though this is only true for some species), which would be applicable for Sidon and any other shark Zora we don’t see

We don’t know how much deep-sea swimming, if any, zora are capable of. This might be because they need to make up for having less gills by breathing actual air, or it might just be a weird oversight.

I believe in other installments, the Zora have been entirely under water; because of this, I think the less gills is probably just an aesthetic choice of not wanting to cover their torsos in gills (especially cuz some people find gills to be unsettling looking)

Zora can likely spend as long under water as they want.

The Dots:

I know it’s a common headcannon that the dots are bio-luminescent but I really just think they’re a cute way to tie all the Zora together; i can’t imagine what they actually provide from an evolutionary perspective

Furthermore, there is no IRL counterpart to show mammals emitting true bioluminesence

That being said they are a fantasy race so whatever who cares have your headcanons this is one i just don’t personally agree with.

Eyes:

Because Zora have eyes more or less on the side of their heads, they probably don’t rely on eyesight (especially in the water)

Dolphins and Sharks both have real life counterparts showing the use of electrolocation (the ability to detect electric-magnetic fields in order to navigate) or echolocation, so I’d like to think that the Zora have this ability as well

Yes, I know you can successfully scare Sidon if you ascend into the throne room in totk - i don’t think that disproves my theory, as these seem to be more manual things to use and not just natural things happening all the time

Dorsal Fins:

Despite IRL dolphins having dorsal fins, none of the dolphin Zora do. Sidon is again the only Zora with a dorsal fin, and he actally has two

Because of this, I don’t think Zora have any real use for Dorsal Fins and they’re likely just ornamentation/vestigial

Reproduction

The Physicality

Dolphins/Whales are mammals, but Rays and Sharks are not, however in order for the Zora population to thrive, they likely all need to be able to reproduce together, not just like with like

Because of this (and that they don’t really appear to be mammals in LoZ, even the dolphin/whale inspired Zora), I think it makes sense that they have more ~fish~ related genitals

Males would have claspers and a cloaca; similarly, females would have a cloaca

traditionally, species with claspers have two of them; only one is ever active at a time but go nuts idc

The process

Most Sharks, Rays, Dolphins, and Whales have live births, and because they all need to be compatible, it makes the most sense to assume they all give birth the same way

For the purposes of my long thought process - Zora have live births, but can likely have anywhere from 1-4 pups at once

Yes, I’m choosing to call them pups. Whale babies are called calves so i think pups is better

These species all have WILDLY different gestation periods, so to combine it all into one species, I’ll average it out and say about a 6 month gestation period.

Some sharks/whales have a gestation period of 11-12 months, some longer

some also have incredibly short gestation periods, for instance, the bonnethead shark’s gestation period is only 4-5 months

Obviously, just like IRL, there will be differences from Zora to Zora

Likely gestation period is 7-9 months depending on the Zora

However i could GENUINELY see arguments for Zora having much longer gestation periods especially considering we see so few babies in the actual game

That was a really long way to say They probably just have a normal 9 month gestation period like people do but whatever

Unfortunately, this is really hard to gauge since we don’t have a real gauge on how old any of the Zora are or when they reach maturity

We know Dorephan has been leading for 200 some years but that doesn’t tell us how old he was when he took the throne

we know Sidon is 100+ years old but we don’t know how old he was in his child appearances

It’s just as likely that they have 2-3 year gestation periods and take 50 years just to fully mature but WE WON’T KNWO UNLESS NINTENDO TELLS ME

Development

THIS IS ALL JUST PERSONAL HEADCANON IN ATTEMPTS TO COMBINE HOW THESE IRL SPECIES DEVELOP

I think Zora are born in a sort of tadpole state where they are MOSTLY just their heads + tiny stubby legs that haven’t developed fully yet

Baby zora would be kept in a communal nursery pool (incredibly shallow) while the rest of their development takes place outside of the birther

Kinda just think they develop like frogs do. eventually grow in the rest of their bodies and their legs/arms come in and as they get bigger they are transferred to deeper and deeper pool. they’re free to roam probably slightly smaller than we see the canon kids running around

Some of the kids in totk appear to be quiet young, as their head-side-fins are still growing in and haven’t reached full length

fins are likely one of the last things to develop as Zora get older because all they REALLY need to swim is the big head-tail but we like ornamentation in this species

So to put it simply, here is the development cycle

Vital development happens while still inside the birther, including gills and lungs and head-tail for swimming

Once outside - the head is the first thing to finish developing

While the head is developing, the stubby legs develop out into an actual body with legs and arms

the head finishes developing first and the body has to catch up (see: how fucking massive baby Sidon’s head is compared to his body i mean his head-tail drags on the ground!!! he’s so cute!!!!)

the side-fins will also develop faster than the body

Their development/growth likely never stops, but they will only grow as large as their eating habits can support

This would support Dorephan being a true herbivore as herbivores tend to grow the largest (the largest whales are baleen whales and dolphins, which are whales, tend to be carnivores and much smaller

Hard to say how long it takes them to fully develop or reach maturity, so I’m not even gonna take a guess. it takes however long to work for your fanfic tbqh

Diet

The difference in teeth makes it hard to pin-down an exact Zora diet, and it’s likely entirely decided by what kind of teeth they have

Shark and Ray Zora

They have sharp teeth exclusively, which hints that they may be carnivores

If they do eat any vegetation, they likely need to swallow it in large chunks or whole, as you do require flat teeth to grind vegetation down

Dolphin/Whale Zora

We have instances of omnivore teeth and herbivore teeth

to me, this only makes sense for Dorephan to be a herbivore since he is clearly based off a baleen whale; Mipha’s teeth I think are entirely a weird decision choice given that there are no recorded herbivore dolphins

With this in mind, the Dolphin Zora have likely developed an omnivore diet in order to better survive in their multi-environmental life (ocean and land); they also have the longer necks which to me says that land-life is a bit more important to them

Rays have likely spent more time in the water and their secret far away not-plot relevant domain may even be more akin to the domains we see in other Zelda games, where it’s mostly if not entirely underwater

What do they eat?

Probably fish.

For vegetation, it’s probably limited to larger vegetation for our poor sharp teethed friends whereas the omnivore Zora can eat anything they want; probably a diet similar to Hylians, though the Zora would eat more fish and Hylians eat more land-meat

Zora likely don’t need as much vegetation to survive/be healthy as other groups might given that they seem to have evolved from carnivores

Conclusion

This is meant just to be a fun deep-dive into fantasy biology; no offense is meant towards anyone who disagrees with me and I will take no offense from anyone who disagrees with me

Mipha’s lack of a bottom row of teeth haunts me

I think Sidon and Mipha had a shark mom because otherwise how did Sidon happen

[revvethasmythh]

Random-ass fic question: Of all the dialogue you've published so far, what is your favorite line/exchange/monologue? What is it about that dialogue that you enjoy most? Was there anything notable about the process to come up with it?

Did I just go through ALL of my published fics scouring them for favorite dialogue? 100%, absolutely I did. But, ironically, my answer is actually from the most recent fic I published, which was a holiday themed Gale/Durge piece I wrote back in December.

I suppose the context of the moment is important, in that Durge is having trouble adjusting to mundane life after everything and Gale is seeking advice from Jaheira about this. My favorite published dialogue is Jaheira's monologue from the end of that fic (that first dialogue is from Gale):

“So what do I do?” Jaheira shrugged, her voice uncommonly gentle. “You find space for her. Space for her to try and to fail. Space for her to experiment and to grow. I was growing larkspur recently—they’re beautiful flowers, but, like anything, they require care. Full sun, moist soil, and mine grew to be quite tall, so they required a stake to give them support.” Her hands opened and closed and she stared into the corner of the room, as if searching for the right words. “Living things love to grow. All living things can grow into something beautiful, I believe, as long as you treat them right and give them the support they need to keep going. But the growing itself? That’s for them to do. You want my advice? Be her sun. Keep your hand steady at her back. Find her the space to grow and the means to do so. Then you can only hope you will watch her flourish.” She tipped her head from side to side. “I don’t know how much that will help, but that’s what you get when you ask for wizened advice, yes?”

I don't know, something especially about "living things love to grow" stuck with me after writing that. I actually, genuinely think about it frequently, as if it was advice given to me by Jaheira and not something I thought up on my own. Also, I think I love it because it feels very in character? I finished it and I was like "yes! THAT was a successful representation of her character and something she absolutely WOULD say."

I WISH there was something notable about the process of writing this. Well, actually I'd written 7k of that fic in one day all at once because I was trying to meet a deadline to publish it, so by the time I got to this I was a little delirious and I actually think it helped me channel Jaheira because I just was not overthinking it. If delirium can give you anything, it's the ability to not overthink what you're doing and just follow your instincts to put the right things on paper.

Also a bonus favorite UN-published dialogue below the cut because it's funny and also I just like to add bonus things whenever I talk about my writing:

This is a conversation that never ended up getting published because I lose momentum on the piece (I might return to it one day, still, but for now it's on indefinite hiatus). But every time I see this in my notes it just makes me cackle. Like, yeah, this IS a conversation Beau and Veth would have

Beau threw her head back and growled in frustration. “I know you love your husband. But are you happy?” Silence fell. Assurances sprang to Veth’s lips, but for the first time she found she couldn’t force them out. To her complete humiliation, she felt tears start to gather in her eyes. “Beau,” she began haltingly. “I-I don’t know what to do.” “Oh, shit,” Beau’s hands were planted on the table, fingers splayed wide and rigid. “You’re crying. Oh gods. I’ve literally never seen you cry.” “I don’t know what to do, Beau! Oh my gods, I’m crying.” She paused to swat at her wet cheeks in disbelief. “Oh shit, oh fuck, okay, come here.” Beau practically vaulted over the table to get next to Veth, throwing her arms around her and pulling her close. “I don’t cry!” Veth wailed, letting herself fall into Beau’s arms. “What did you do to me?” “I don’t know! I just asked you a question. Shit, I wish Caduceus was here. He would know what to do.” “Caduceus? I don’t want to talk about this with Caduceus!” “Okay, cool, cool, cool, good thing he’s not here, then.” Beau patted Veth’s back and tightened her grip on her. “Let it out, Veth. Just let it all out.” “You’re so bad at this.” “Hey, I’m trying! And, no, I’m not bad at this. I give great hugs.” Veth sniffled pathetically, nuzzling her head into the crook of Beau’s shoulder. “I bet Yasha gives better hugs. What if I want Yasha to hug me instead?” “Veth,” Beau’s breath hissed in through gritted teeth. “I know you’re going through a crisis right now, but I will punt your ass right back to Nicodranas.”

[zraloci-sharks]

Giuseppe Arcimboldo's lesser known paintings

Most people probably know this artist from this painting:

And that's not wrong, really. It's a pretty good representation of the kind of art he did. But recently, when I borrowed a book about him from the library, I saw lots of cool paintings he did that are not nearly as well known. He really was a master of his craft!

Here are some of my favorites:

Look at this. I really like the color palette. It's a subtle combination of various neutrals, mixed in a way that makes them look quite rich. Look at the way all the animals are tangled up together, combined with their frantic poses and expressions, it really creates a chaotic, naturalist mood. Look at that subtle streak of red on the left - if you colorpicked it, it would look really dull, but next to the other muted colors, it really pops!

Now we are getting into more familiar territory - people made out of stuff. This one in particular is pretty cool to me. Again with the neutrals and pops of red, but this time, there are a lot more greys mixed in. They look great against that dark background. Look at the way the eye of the fish is the eye of the person (you can see the person better if you squint!). Look at that crown made of eels!

That is what I love about Arcimboldo - the playfulness of his art. It may not seem that crazy today, but remember, this is Renaissance era art. It's interesting to see something like this be portrayed with a sophisticated painterly style.

It probably took him a long time just to gather enough references of all those fish and clams. Fish move a lot, so his reference models probably weren't alive. That just makes the fact that they look so full of life in this painting more impressive!

This one has similar colors and, again, sea animals, but i put it in here because the level of detail is once again absolutely insane. You can really get lost in this painting. The shark's mouth is the person's mouth, how cool is that?

This painting is from Arcimboldo's series of paintings about the elements. This one is meant to represent the element of water and... yeah, it sure does that!

This one is a bit different. Arcimboldo also did lots of random studies, including this one of a three legged chick! Not as impressive as the other ones, but it proves, that he really had the range. Also, it's just fascinating to me, that there is an inherent story behind this painting.

Once upon a time, in Renaissance era Italy, a three legged chick was born. It probably did not live very long. Then, its feathers were plucked and an artist took the body and immortalized it in a drawing.

A long time ago, a strange chicken was born, and thanks to that artist's effort, we can see what it looked like. Isn't that a bit magical?

And finally, this painting. Oh my. This one probably looks gorgeous in person! If you're gonna steal any of Arcimboldo's color palettes, steal this one. Look at that complex greenery, tinted with reds and yellows. That flower hat, my god - if you look closely, there are not that many different colors in it, but it looks colorful, because the strong colors are so close together.

Those daisies around the neck really look like a real part of a dress. And the face is so pretty! It stands out because it is so much lighter than the body, and there are so many shades of pink...

This painting is meant to represent the concept of spring, and it does that really well!

If you like these paintings , I have to inform you, that these are just low quality scans I had to make myself. They look better printed and they probably al look incredible in a museum. So if you ever end up in one, look for this guy's work! He really was great at what he did.

[rayezaeri]

Intoxication

This is a lil fic I have written of two of my own original characters from a story I'm writing. This was written for a friend of mine as payment for making art for a game I am working on.

---

The night was cold, bitter and unforgiving, the falling snow threatening to swallow everything in a seemingly eternal freeze. It was nights like these that saw the city at it's truly lifeless peak. Everyone remained indoors, unwilling to risk freezing outside, the absence of the sound of animals made it clear they felt the same. Despite the frost and the dead atmosphere that overwhelmed the populace, one soul remained away from the protection of her home. Kathar found nights like this to be enjoyable, the large absence of people made her much more confident, and her adventurous inventors' mind led her to build an internal heater long ago, to her the cold was a trivial matter. She even enjoyed that the frost added to her colour palette, her short lavender hair was highlighted by the specks of snow. The patterns that covered her shirt and cardigan were disrupted by the welcomed invader, which in her eyes, made them more unique.

Kathar wasn't just out for a nice midnight stroll, she intended to visit a flower garden. One that resided outside a seemingly abandoned castle, and appeared to be enchanted, as no matter how much it snowed, not a singe speck ever made it near any of the flowers. Although it was a bit of a trek, Kathar found it an enjoyable and necessary one. She had recently begun to learn about souls, she was mostly interested in how they were made, and what their creation needed, was life-force, life-force which flowers could provide plenty of.

As she arrived at the outskirts of the castle she took a few moments to admire the contrast between the obvious winter theme that surrounded her, and the apparent summer theme that surrounded the castle. Neither merged with the other, almost as if they were stuck in a standstill of a territory battle. She walked forward, passing the untouchable barrier, as she did she felt the snow that highlighted her being brushed off, and although it saddened her, she was glad to know that she wouldn't cover the flowers with it, even if she was about to pick them and take them away from their home.

Like she always did, Kathar begun her flower collecting by simply admiring the field of colours before her. Admiring how the fields kept their own individuality while slowly merging with the others to create a smooth swarm of natural colours that personified the beauty of mother nature. Of course there were oddities, small absences from where she had picked before. She found a small joy in creating these spots of darkness, seeing it as her way of marking the world, her small way of making her existence known. Unbeknownst to her however, her existence was already known.

As she begun choosing which specimens to gather, she remained completely unaware of the figure that stalked her from the castle window. It watched Kathar with admiration, paying close attention to her every movement, watching as she very delicately grasped and plucked each flower, placing them carefully in her bag. She enjoyed watching the ends of her hair sway as the wind carried them; the way they flowed so freely acting as a representation of Kathar's own freedom. She enjoyed the way Kathar moved, there was a clear purpose in every movement she made that gave away her confidence. Most of all she enjoyed the delicate hand that belonged to her, no matter what it was, she clearly handled whatever she held with care, the figure couldn't help but yearn for her touch. Everything about her made her feel wistful, for she longed to carry her around her home and introduce her to the beauty of an extravagant life that she felt was befitting for the subject of her admiration.

The figure had been watching Kathar from day one. Upon first sight she felt anger towards her mildly destructive tendencies, how dare someone invade and ruin the beauty of her home. It wasn't until she fully diverted her attention to Kathy that she changed her mind. She soon found herself entranced by every little detail of her. The soft and light material of her clothes that somehow made their patterns stand out more, patterns that blended so well with her silky skin, soft smile and cheerful personality. To her, Kathar's lack of an eye only highlighted the beauty of her singular ocean blue orb. It had been a while now, since Kathar started to come here, and so the figure felt that today would be the day she introduced herself.

Kathar never bothered to worry about the possibility of other people while she was in this garden, as far as she was aware, she was alone. "Do you enjoy stealing from others?" The sudden disturbance in her silent peace startled Kathar, and she threw her head towards the voice. There, stood a woman, not much taller than her, with piercing rose red eyes, and long snow white hair. The clothes she wore were eloquent, the kind of clothes you'd expect to see on royalty. The figure giggled, "Did I startle you into silence? You aren't used to being caught, are you?" Kathar threw herself out of the apparent trance caused by her admiration of the figure in front of her. "No, I'm not, so I'm afraid I must go now" Kathar turned to sprint away, only to be met with the figure's face, she looked back over her shoulder to see nothing. "Trust me, little firefly, I'm faster than you, you won't be leaving without my permission."

Kathar felt a small spike of annoyance that turned into mild fear as the figure began to walk towards her. Something about her unsettled Kathar, so she started walking backwards, trying to keep the distance. "There's no need to be scared, I have no intention of harming you, and I'm not mad about the flowers." Something about her voice felt calming, so calming that Kathar slowed her movements until she stopped completely, allowing the figure to get closer, until she too stopped, right in front of Kathar. She felt slightly nervous as the women didn't say anything, instead, her eyes traced her body. "What are you doing?" "Admiring you, I've only been able to do it from afar." "You've been watching me?" "Have been since day one darling. Trust me, if I wanted to hurt you, I would've done so ages ago." Although it unsettled her to learn she was being watched, she felt more at ease, knowing she had no intention of harming her. The women's eyes stopped wandering, and stared into Kathar's eye, her gaze was one that demanded attention, attention that Kathar wasn't sure if she was going to give or not. "Your name, what is it firefly?" "Ka-Kathar" The women closed her eyes, smiled, and took in a deep breath, almost as if the name intoxicated her to the point that she wished to absorb it. "Such a lovely name" she opened her eyes "you may call me Rithika, and you are more than welcome to come here again, whether it's to pick flowers, or to see me." Rithika stepped to the side and extended her arm, signalling to her that she was free to go. Kathar awkwardly shuffled past her, increasing her speed as she got further away, but looking back every few seconds to see Rithika smiling and waving to her.

And this is how Kathar’s life went for the better part of a month. Everyday she would journey to that castle she once thought was abandoned. Of course she did so with the intention of gaining more specimens to use in her studies. Rithika enjoyed her presence anyway, she spent all of their time together being close to her, watching her pick flowers and just generally admiring Kathar as she did her thing. Despite the unusual first interaction between them, Kathar found herself warming up to Rithika’s presence, she didn’t exactly have many friends, so the company of another, although only for a short time each day, was rather pleasant to her.

Rithika never followed Kathar outside of her castle’s boundaries, and so she decided that today she’d at least find out what it is her little firefly was collecting her flowers for. “So, why have you been coming here so often to pick flowers? Would it not be easier to grow your own?” Kathar shivered a little, while the pair had spent a decent amount of time together for the past month, they spent it in silence, this was the first time either of them had spoken since their first meeting. “Why the sudden interest, getting bored of just watching me?” “I could watch you for the rest of eternity and never be bored. I’m just curious.” “Well, given that you seemingly live here, and after witnessing you that night, I imagine you’re probably responsible for these flowers and the potential invisible force field around this place, so I guess I can tell you, it probably won’t seem as outlandish to you as it does to others.”

Kathar looked carefully at a pair of flowers, then picked them both and turned to Rithika, presenting them. “Can you tell me the difference between these two flowers?” “Nope, they both look the same to me.” “Every living thing has energy in it, most people can’t see this energy, it doesn’t exist to the untrained eye, think of it like an aura that surrounds it. This unseen energy is it’s life force.” She held up the one in her right hand. “The aura that surrounds this one is brighter than the other, meaning it has more life force to it. Hence why I’m being so selective about which flowers I choose.” “So, can you see the life force of every living thing?” “I can, it did take quite a while for me to figure out how to see them, let alone manipulate them, but I can.” “You can manipulate them?” “Yes. It’s the whole point of what I’m doing, by collecting enough life force one could, theoretically speaking, create an entire soul; which is what I’m aiming to do.” Rithika’s admiration for Kathar only grew with these statements, she found it so amazing how she was able to learn all of this, when even someone as powerful as her, knew nothing about it.

“Could you demonstrate how it works? Being able to manipulate life force I mean.” “I guess I could, watch the flowers.” Rithika begrudgingly pulled her eyes away from Kathar’s and to the flowers so she could witness what Kathar was capable of doing. As she watched, Kathar began to focus and with seemingly very little effort, transferred the life force between the flowers. The only indication that this was actually happening, was the flower in her left hand suddenly decaying at a rapid pace, and the one in her right, seemingly getting healthier. “From what I’ve learned, life force can’t truly be destroyed, as something lives it gathers enough life force to sustain itself from seemingly nowhere. It’s like the energies just exist and flow about as freely as oxygen does. When something dies, all of that life force is just released into the surroundings, unless someone is directly channelling it, like I was with the flowers.” “You truly are marvellous.” Kathar blushed a little at the unexpected compliment. “I do hope that when you are successful in creating a soul, that you will come and show me, or perhaps, moving to the source of your research would be better for you?” “As nice an offer as that is I wouldn’t want to intrude on your home.” “You’ve spent a while coming here and stealing my flowers, and have you not seen the size of the castle that is my home, I could have 20 of you living with me and there would still be plenty of room.” “I-I guess I can consider it, I would like if you showed me around your home first, if you would be so kind.”

“To have such a gem set foot in my home would be an honour, how about I show you around now?” “Well I’ve collected all that I need for now, so sure, I have plenty of time to spare.” Rithika stood on one leg and spun around in a moment of joy, “oh how wonderful. Come now Firefly, we best not waste time.” She held out her hand for Kathar to grab, which she did so in the most gentle manner she could. She was so gentle in fact, that Rithika felt as if the soft embrace of her hand had made her physically melt; her desire to hold her only enhanced that feeling. It had been a while since Kathar felt the touch of another person, the feeling of Rithika’s hand in hers made her realise just how much she had missed the sensation. The pair walked through the castle’s garden without a word to each other. Rithika was busy humming to herself, clearly happy with being able to finally touch Kathar and have the opportunity to show her around her home, and Kathar had found herself enjoying the little tune that escaped her lips, wishing not to disturb it.

The tour of Rithika’s mansion lasted a couple hours, it would’ve gone quicker but she felt she had to explain some of the stories behind her home. Kathar found herself enjoying her time with Rithika more than she thought she would. There was something about her voice that made it pleasant to listen to, making it easy for Kathar to allow Rithika to indulge in her need for telling stories. During the tour Kathar also came to the realisation of just how lonely Rithika was. Kathar had always enjoyed her own company, in her normal life, most would avoid her as a point of viewing her as weird or scary. She learned to become unbothered by this, and soon found herself living the life of a willing loner, and as such, she could tell that Rithika had not gotten used to the loneliness.

Kathar spent a few days after that considering taking Rithika’s offer. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was considering it out of pity or her own desire, but she was considering it. She slowly started spending more time at Rithika’s home, still collecting her flowers but making sure to get it done quickly so she could enjoy being with Rithika for longer. The sudden change in the amount of attention she gave her sent Rithika wild. She wanted more. She wanted to be able to spend every second she could with Kathar at her side. She wasn’t stupid, Kathar could see how Rithika’s obsession with her was growing, but she found enjoyment in teasing her about it. It soon got to the point where any outsider looking in would be convinced they were lovers forever cursed to be unable to interact with the other. Until a certain day where Rithika was unable to hold herself back, revealing one of her many secrets to Kathar.

Kathar had become very comfortable around Rithika, and didn’t mind holding her hand, hugging her or other various forms of physical touch. She of course used this to her advantage to toy with Rithika’s obsession of her. They had gotten into the habit of hugging each other goodbye whenever Kathar would leave for her home, except this time, Rithika didn’t want to let go.

“You know I don’t actually live here yet, you’ve gotta let me go at some point.” Rithika moved her head to bury it in Kathar’s neck and she swore it felt like she was smelling her. “I think at this point we should just call your home away from this castle a holiday home, you stay here often enough.” “Still I’d have to move all of my stuff here, you would have to let go of me so I could do that.” “You can do it later, right now, I want you.” She moved her head up so that she could look Kathar directly in the eye. Kathy was momentarily shocked upon seeing those rubies glow, and when Rithika opened her mouth once more, Kathar bared witness to a pair of fangs. “You. Smell. Delicious. And it has been driving me crazy, you’re like a drug, and I’m high on you without even having you.” “Well if it’s just my blood you want,” she leans in and whispers into Rithika’s ear, “go ahead and take it.” Without a second thought Rithika sank her fangs into her neck and held her as close as possible. Kathar was a bit caught off guard at the sudden speed that she had moved at, but got over it quickly and allowed herself to sink into Rithika’s grasp.

Once she was done Kathar felt as if she were about to pass out. The only thing keeping her upright was Rithika’s hold on her, who looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world whilst simultaneously seeing her as the most satisfying prey she had ever caught.

Kathar attempted to speak; the only thing that came out of her mouth was a raspy breath before she actually passed out. When she awoke, she found herself in an incredibly luxurious room, laying on a bed which probably could’ve fit ten of her on it. “You’re awake.” Rithika’s voice came from the bedside and Kathar turned to look at her. There was nothing but adoration on her face as she looked upon Kathar. “Were you watching me sleep?” “I had nothing else to do.” “Well, that’s fair, but with a bed this big you could’ve joined me.” “As much as I love the idea, I felt you should get to enjoy the wonders of a bed you can actually move around in, compared to your usual resting place.” Kathar had never mentioned anything about the state of her own home to Rithika, and decided to ignore the apparent unintentional confession of stalking. She had found herself falling for her, and so decided that she wasn’t bothered by it. “Where are my things?” “Right here.” Rithika picked up Kathar’s usual bag from right beside her to show her. “I imagine you’ll be wanting to get back to your home, however I was wondering if you��d perhaps stay for dinner?” “Haven’t you already eaten?” “The normal kind of food, the stuff unlike the delicacy that is you.” “You flatter me.” “I only speak the truth, I’ve never had blood that tastes as good as yours.” “Well why not then, I’ll stay for dinner, but I must go home after.” “As much as it saddens me to be away from you, I suppose I can’t stop you. However you should consider my proposal of moving in with me.” “I’ll give it some thought.”

Kathar found herself to be an immediate fan of Rithika’s cooking, swearing that it was the best food she had ever had. Before long they said their usual goodbyes as Kathar left to make her usual trip home, feeling once again the change in nature as she stepped away from the castle and it’s denizen that she had grown attached to. As she walked she couldn’t help but constantly run her hand over the bite marks left behind from Rithika. This was the first time she had ever bit her, despite that she knew that she was a careful women, and so suspected that the light burn was just a mild irritation of her skin’s reaction to being punctured. She did note however, that the feeling of pain seemed to be getting greater, the further she got from the castle, from Rithika.

When she got home she had barely made it to the bed before she collapsed, the burning feeling overpowering her will to move. Slowly, she crawled her way onto her broken, messy bed, realising amidst the pain that Rithika was right; the bed she awoke in earlier, was much nicer, even if it was oversized. The thought of Rithika made her smile, before she forced herself asleep to avoid the pain.

Unfortunately for her, the pain was not temporary. It took every bit of her energy and willpower to get out of bed come morning, let alone make herself some food. She had a look at herself, moreso the contraptions she had made that rested inside her, none of them were in disarray, and yet none of them helped with the pain. She had suspected that perhaps her internal heater might be of help, as her pain was a burning one, but it did nothing. She continued to tinker with a few more of her creations that weren’t inside her, yet still nothing worked.

Her thoughts wandered back to Rithika, she was careful enough to avoid giving her a mark that would cause pain, wasn’t she? Then she remembered how the pain got worse the further away from the castle she got. “She’s marked me.” Kathar uttered. Given what she knew about Rithika’s obsessive nature, and the fact of the pain being worse the further away she got, this seemed the most reasonable conclusion to the matter. She decided to pay an early visit to Rithika, mostly to see if the pain would in fact go away the closer she was to her.

Kathar started her trip in a state where she quite literally had to drag her feet across the ground to get anywhere. Once she had reached the castle, the pain was extremely minimal, practically unnoticeable. Rithika greeted her with a confused smile, Kathar however could see it in her eyes, she was expecting her. “Not that I’m complaining, but what brings you here so early, you've never deviated from your schedule before." Kathar wanted to mention the bite and the pain she felt from it the further she was from Rithika, but found herself completely unable to. “What did you do to me?” “Whatever do you mean?” She tried to mention the bite again but the words were never formed. She instead revealed her neck to Rithika and pointed at the punctured holes. She said nothing. Then smiled at her, and opened her arms. Kathar found herself suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to be embraced by Rithika, and threw herself at her.

Rithika held her tightly but gently, her voice was soft as she spoke, to the point that it made Kathar feel relaxed. Instead of the question Kathar expected, Rithika asked her “do you wish to be mine?” To which the only response Kathar could even think of giving, was a silent “yes.”

[spidey-bie]

So, Onto terms of actual Comic Hobie fluff. I actually have a couple things for this, surprisingly it might be after that analysis. (HEHEeh) Because brain is hyperfixating on both Hobie and Moxie, I'm throwing them both in here interchangeably.

-Someone had the headcanon that hobie would make guitar picks out of everything and anything, and I loved that. I also heard that when you go to band-practice, you pick up like fucking everyone's picks from your guitar case. I love both these Ideas, you know what I absolutely love even more, though is the thought of him specifically making pics because of the idea of someone comforting and then using those comfort pics interchangeably through a set.

-Hobie actually has several very healthy coping mechanisms. First you ever see him is his ready willingness to ask for help, his comfort blanket (I'm refering to spider-man because that's what it is to him, an emotional crutch, armor for his soft bits during spider-punk) I feel like you can very easily get him started on a work life balance simply by giving him another one separate from his work. Imagine hobie walking around in a knitted sweater, and that's what makes him feel safe. In my head, I had actually imagined it'd be bright pink because it wasn't his. In my head, after Hobie goes back to his own world Moxie and Hobie would've made such an impact on each others lives that even if they don't speak about each other (Because private moments, not romantic but emotionally intimate.) they visibly are changed after meeting each other. Moxie learns to be themselves expressively without fear, or regret just like Hobie, and Hobie learns how to carve time out of his day for soft, kind moments just for himself. To try and find beauty in a rainy day.

-It actually came with a thought that after Hobie had gone home, he realized one of the bags Moxie threw at him for him to take his shit with him actually had other things in it, and one of them was a change of warmer, softer clothes for when it gets colder. Cue actual literal 3 foot avalanche of shit when he decides to throw the bag off to the side without closing the lid. Imagine an entire tidalwave of fucking highlighters, markers both permanent and washable, sticky-notes of literally fucking every single goddamn color, an entire boombox with a box of cassettes, yarn balls falling out of it, a set of knitting needles, empty notebooks falling out of it, a goddamn earth-shattering amount of fucking guitar picks and paintbrushes, an entire collection of knitted sweaters and scarves and cardigans. The instant fucking regret he feels when he realizes he has to clean that shit. On the positive side, he will literally never need to make a pick ever in his entire life, and he'll never be cold. So...

-Moxie has a shit ton of muses, but the catcher with them is that they don't paint people or objects. Moxie has a specific self-made qualification, they paint emotion and experience. Most of time when they meet people, they ask them to sit down with them and explain to them what it felt like to experience something. They paint a visual representation of what they gathered from that person. Hobie would be one of their muses because they'e spent time around people long enough to know the fear and anger rule. (anger is secondary to fear) They paint alot of rose bushes on the sea side when they think of Hobie, pretty and red and very prickly with a vastly underestimated depth. Very much not meant to be touched, but cared for from a shorter distance before you step further into a world unknown. It's the emotion and vulnerability that makes him "pretty" to them.

-Hobie, I think would knit to get out frustration into a repeated, simple and tedious task.

-He's a younger runaway, having decided the streets were better. He still doesn't talk to his family or even know what's happened to them since he's been gone.

-Moxie keeps paintings that remind them of people around their space. They have one of the first assault they ever witnessed. (the police brutality that spurred them down the vigilantee route) It's covered, but it hangs above their work bench. Can't take it down because it's too important, can't look at it without feeling angry and afraid.

-Hobie in the comics isn't as touchy as movie hobie, he only ever reached for someone in a way that wasn't kicking their ass when he met gwen stacy (who he fanboyed over like hell because gwen stacy in his universe was a rockstar who died epicly) and when gwen stacy returned during spider-verse in a very "I lived bitch" way after thought dead. (ran straight for the hug) He doesn't mind when someone else puts their arms around him, though. Possibly incredibly touch-based person when he's being vulnerable in a way that isn't crying his eyes out.

OH MY FUCKING GOD HOW DO THESE ASKS KEEP GETTING SO FUCKING LONG. Your ask box is my rant box, suffer.

Moxie and Hobie would've made such an impact on each others lives that even if they don't speak about each other they visibly are changed after meeting each other.

Hey what if I cried here huh? What then? Dang this makes me think about how Hobie and my Spidersona would react if they ever met. I have to think more about this later.

Your writing is so poetic y'know. Every time you send in an ask about Moxie I just know that this is something I'm gonna have to give a lot of time and energy to. I'm just gonna have to set aside a time to read through everything so I can just take it all in.

*Squints at the last line* If this is supposed to be suffering then I will gladly take it with a smile.

[skyjynxart]

Mmm sorry.

Ah, the good ol’ readmore yellfest. Seriously no need to read this, I just need to get it off my chest. If you do skim through, big fat TW for transphobia, and like- body image issues? This is a fucked up little diary entry and I’m going to delete it later- this is purely for catharsis & self-reflection after I’ve had some sleep.

And a note to that one very close friend who may read this despite being warned off: I know it’s stupid on some level, I know this started like 2 weeks ago, and I am yelling here so I DON’T yell in your direction again so shoo.

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I like to think I’m someone who handles bigotry well. Most of the time, things slide off me like water off a duck. I’m at this point pretty visibly gender non-conforming, because I’ve been on T for like a year and a half, but refuse to cut my hair off. Microaggressions pretty much mean nothing to me at this point, I hear them all the time, and 99% of the time they’re unintentional and from complete strangers in a town I don’t really like anyway.

Sometimes people are deliberately cruel- but then I can just avoid them, and that’s the end of it. Even at work, where I might have to see certain patrons regularly, there’s juuust enough protections in place for me that I can reasonably refuse to interact with them after they’ve said something, and if I were to gather up the energy to go to HR about it, they’d at least probably be talked to about it.

It hits a little different coming from someone I know online who I thought of as friendly, if not a friend.

It especially hits different when it’s about something I’m not- used to.

Specifically, it hits really fucking hard when it’s comments like ‘it makes me want to gag’ and ‘seriously nobody wants to see that’ and ‘Ive never seen this side of trans’ ( grammatical nightmare aside, that IS a direct quote ), and these comments are being made about an OC that I chose to update an old femme design into a transmasc one. One that I chose to keep the old art of around because the whole point is that we trans folx don’t just pop out of the womb with top surgery scars.

And with the bulk of that disgust being directed at the fact that, when drawing a nude body reference of this OC, I drew him with a vagina ( can I still say vagina on tumblr? ). You know. Like... Trans men are typically born with. Like a great majority of trans men have, because bottom surgery is expensive and painful and frankly doesn’t really work as well when it comes to giving you functioning parts as one would assume. They can’t just- graft a dick onto someone.

It’s like people wanna support us until they’re confronted with the reality of what being trans means.

And I guess this just hits hard because I already struggle with feeling-- like I’m wanted on like, a very basic level lmao, but particularly with internalising a lot of rhetoric and frankly narrow representation of transmasc people ( skinny or buff af, white, short hair, no hips, only clockable by voice or height, still hairless somehow, and either wearing a strap in sexytimes or not sexy at all ) that excludes someone who presents the way I do pretty heavily on multiple counts.

So someone making those kinds of comments because they don’t like that I re-designed an OC to reflect parts of my experience- parts of my body that I am struggling to love, but can love more easily on a piece of fiction made out of pixels- I guess it makes sense that it’s circling around in my head even weeks later. And I’ve never really- felt hit by transphobia in this way- I’ve never felt cut directly by it before because I’m usually so fucking prepared, and so used to recognising when there’s a high risk and cutting people off before they have a chance to enact this kind of shit and hurt me with it.

I dunno I’m dealing with a lot of weird things for the first time in my life because my late 20s is a weird as fuck time to exist, and my body is changing from age and a second puberty at the same time, and some of those changes are amazing things that I’m happy about while others are waking a lot of internalised issues I never knew I had until now, and this was just a really fucking inopportune time for something like that to come along, and ever since those screenshots got shared with me I just- haven’t been able to feel right or comfortable. At first I thought okay, I am fueled by 99% spite, so I’m gonna draw SO MUCH transguy smut now, but--

every time I sit down to do it, I freeze up.

I don’t know why- this has never happened to me before. And I hate it. I hate that words not even spoken directly to me- maybe even because they weren’t spoken directly to me, because then I have to wonder how many other people are secretly saying and thinking the same things- can make me question my body, question what I draw, question-- so much about myself. I fucking hate it.