#i know repressing makes it worse in the long run but again i dont have the option

[eggthew]

I am soooo emotionally repressed but there's nothing I can do about it. It's an unhealthy coping mechanisms, I know that, but it's also the only one I have right now. I'm not in a place where I can deal with all That without becoming a danger to myself, I simply don't have the resources for it. Any strong emotions can and will fuck me up, even positive ones, so just. Constant dissociation and repression ig? It sucks, I don't like being like this, I hate never feeling connected and zoning the fuck out without any warning or control but I also can't actually do anything about it

[penguin--person]

I’m mad happy your fic is still up I thought it got taken down or smth 😭 I literally requested to have an acc on AO3 just so I could read your fic. It is very good, feeds the brain worms

omg thank you so much!!!!:3!!!!! teehee!!!! i appreciate it so so so much!!! im writing another pafl fic rn (temnova centered) so tomorrows chapter is . not gonna come out tomorrow so sorry . but !! but . the temnova fic is p swaggin if i do say so myself.. n its already like halfway done ! wont take much longer n right after ill go n continue swap:3 ill also draw smth for it maybe... bc your nice words rlly made me happy . m. im gonna ramble about these two under the cut, and how i hope to portray them (mostly through yuras perspesctive tho, not gonna be having much of dimas for some time) n such !! teehee

so !! cleave by tart is a good song n it made me. delve into yura x dima a bit. while im not a big fan of the ship, i Am a fan of the song! i wouldnt have made yura crush on him if i wrote it now lol BUT i still think its cool . so . this also might be a bit spoilerish?? but god this fic is long i wanna talk about it!!!

dima, does not recipocrate. he does not feel the same as yura. does not like him all that much, if hes being honest. yes, he fed him and gave him a place to stay for the night, but, come on have you seen yura !! most suspicious guy around. thinks he's up to something, that he knows he's a mutant, that he wants to report him etc. yura doesn't know this though. yura himself doesn't even rlly knows how he feels towards dima. its. dima is a mutant - yura can't like him, yea sure lapses in reason can be pretty fun, but, he can't like a mutant, especially not one so lame, yea? especially one that sucks so bad at hiding that he's a mutant. but. even though he can't like him ... he can't help but blush ... he can't help but feel silly around dima ... little does he know what he feels isn't rlly love.

so. yuras messed up. depression n all that. speaking from experience, it's easy to feel like you're beyond saving when depressed and such, that you've fucked up too much, that this is it, nothing will ever get better, all that shit. he sees dima, this mutant on the run that throws up every five minutes. and it's obvious he's worse off than yura. so. in a lapse of reason. he thinks, "Oh! If i can help him, if i can take even the slightest care of him, if i can get him better, then. that means i'm not beyond saving, either. if i help him it'll mean i'm ok. that i still have a chance." . and just . smth like a bit of a hero complex moment. but dima is a BOY and yura is a boy TOO so he CANT LIKE HIM!!! because that will be GAY and yura is a young slavic teen lol of course hes got some homophobia shit going on. internalized, repressed, whatever it is its NOT good !!!

yura doesnt rlly love dima as much as he loves the idea of proving that he can prove something to himself, in short ❤️or Something like that. only knew him for a week anyway and for half of it dima wasnt all that concious. dont know if this makes sense. 👍

dont know if any of this makes sense but !! thank you again!!! :3 i appreciate it lots!!!

[furiosity-wills-the-cat]

Chara, the fourth Blook cousin:

A crack theory that accidentally become way more serious than it should have because it somehow, despite my best efforts, ended up making sense

Brought to you by my idiot conspiracy brain (affectionate) and by encouragement from my Tumblr followers

Under the cut for the sake of your dashes and sanity

Ok here we go my very elaborate accidental theory, because in order to answer the complex questions simply you must first make simple things more complex or something

First, you need to know that Chara became a Blook cousin by adoption.

All of the Blooks are adopted.

Ghosts are not born into families, they make their own.

Got it? Great, because we’re about to start running

so first, im gonna make surprisingly uncommon claim in this fandom, and I am going to say that undertale ghosts are all dead

I’m taking the tiny details we know about ghosts and sprinting with them to new places

Ghosts also do not have souls I decided

Undertale souls do not work the same as souls in traditional mythology

So every ghost is soulless Unless and Until they become corporeal

Evidence: Monster souls cant exist without bodies, and ghosts are monsters, therefore ghosts cannot have souls without bodies

Further evidence: Asriel doesnt steal blooky’s soul, blooky is unkillable, we have no concrete evidence that blooky has a soul

What about mettaton? He only has a soul after he has completely committed to being corporeal and to a specific body.

Also maddy and mettaton are both only killable while corporeal

Im also connecting the dots we have about souls in a new creative way so let me live for a second

Additionally, i am going to claim that there are a lot more ghosts than just the blooks, some evidence given below

Theres like actual scientific knowlege of ghosts in the undertale verse which seems unlikely if theres literally only three or four

The underground is so much bigger than you think, theres that giant forest in snowdin, a large town in the ruins, the huge city of new home, who knows how much space in the large open areas of waterfall etc. Its really really big okay

Also based off evidence of blooky, we can conclude that ghosts can turn invisible whenever they want to and/or haunt objects to hide

So I personally think that ghosts are, generally speaking, extremely reclusive

And the blooks are just a special exception, a beautiful family, amazing for them

So anyway im going with typical ghost lore for now, for the sake of ease, so im gonna say ghosts generally come from monsters who are particularly restless or unsatisfied when they die

HOWEVER i dont think they remember being monsters or anything before being a ghost. They just kinda fizzle into existance with a fully formed personality and immortality while being unkillable and feeling vaguely uneasy

ALSO i personally think that chara was a ghost for a long time before they became a blook by adoption

Based on game lore, i think ghosts can possess any inanimate object and just kinda wear it? But it takes a lot of strong emotion to become corporeal

And chara is the super weird exception because they were a human not a monster.

They dont have a soul (i headcanon that their soul got destroyed when asriel died)

And they KNOW this, which is a huge part of why they kinda just... give up

Because they lost their ability to fulfill prophecy

Also, without a soul, they lost their ability to reset, so for the first time since falling underground, theyre subject to the relentless march of time

But theyre still weirdly strong and powerful and more emotional

ALSO they DO still remember being a human but they catch on pretty quickly that other ghosts dont have memories and because chara is stupid they just lie to fit in

Theyre too tired to explain themself, they just want to be alone and feel awful

Now back to ghost lore

Emotions are a lot harder for ghosts??? I decided

And they dont know why,, they tend to blame it on the soul thing

But realistically its actually more of the immortality thing making actions not have consequences and/or or not having a body so they cant have a sense of touch or have physical effects of emotion

They all know that ghosts just tend to be way more floaty and bored and numb

And thats part of why the blooks are so special

Maddy’s rage and Mettaton’s yearning and Napstablook’s misery are like... not great all of the time...

but theyre also way way more emotion than most ghosts have,,, they are just a family supporting each other, being as functional as they can,, just an emo(tional) ghost family

most ghosts barely do anything except like stare at walls but the blooks have their snail farm and that helps them have purpose and it is good

And they hold each other accountable and it is nice

So anyway chara just chills and is in a depression coma for a few decades before the blooks find them and are like “our child/baby cousin”

and they raise them for a cool minute

They are all very protective of the new baby emo blook

And chara doesnt get therapy but at the very least they once again have a family, and they decide they want to try to become corporeal eventually just like mtt and maddy

So anyway chara starts hanging out in the ruins a lot more and they finally tell the blooks theyre leaving to go become corporeal in the ruins

This is actually because they are trying to hang out with toriel

because they miss their mom ;;

but chara’s not gonna admit that to anyone, especially not to themself

And because theyre still repressing their emotions constantly and pretending to be fine, they cant become corporeal

And they hang out in the ruins for a long time because they feel guilty lying to everyone about everything

They still feel like its their fault that all the monsters are stuck underground, because they were SUPPOSED to save everyone and they COULDNT and it HURTS

But again, they are doing too much repression to use this guilt to become corporeal,

so instead they just kinda hide and watch toriel from a distance and cry

Blooky visits them the most, thats why blooky is chilling in the ruins so much at the start of the game

Theyre just there to visit their shy baby cousin ;;

Ofc they wont tell frisk about this because chara wants space and privacy and blooky respects that

but maddy and mtt also visit them a lot

Oh also when mtt and maddy start dissapearing, blookys mental health plummets as their family and support system starts to dissolve

Blooky was actually doing extremely well (for a ghost) for a long time, i headcanon,

but theyre doing the worst theyve been in a long long time during the game, because of family issues

So anyway, chara dissapears when frisk shows up, and maddy assumes this is becaude frisk hurt their fragile feelings

Maddy spends hours desperately searching the ruins for chara and cant find them and assumes that they had their heart crushed and went to hide and disappear in a depression coma for another few decades, and thats part of why maddy is so furious with frisk

Like,, to be clear, maddy is still jumping to conclusions and throwing blame around with no proof, but also, its a logical conclusion to come to

And mettaton has already disappeared too and been gone for a while, too, by this point, so it hurts even worse

But anyway, what actually happened to chara is that;

Because chara is a human ghost, not a monster ghost, normal ghost rules dont apply to them

And they can possess living things too they find out

Maybe they knew it a long time ago, maybe its a new discovery, but for whatever reason they end up possessing frisk and theyre like “what the heck”

And frisk still has most of the control

But now chara is like,,, “this is my chance, im a human again, gotta save the world for real,,,”

and they cant explain this to anyone without revealing their past

so they just chill in frisk’s mind while being super crypic and trying to figure out how it works

Pacifist route, this is pretty much exactly what happens

They manage to help frisk save the day

And in my headcanon, the no mercy route is started by frisk who is scared when faced by monsters attacking them

And then chara, who was aready hiding in a semidepression coma for a while, immediately transitions to a panicked “gotta protect this body, gotta protect my chance to be human, i died and threw away my chance to save everyone the first time, i CANNOT lose this chance again”

And so the combination of both frisk and chara is the genocide run

Because frisk kills in self defense, and whenever frisk hesitates, chara jumps in

Also theres leftover feelings from the whole asriel incident

Because again, ghosts come from monsters who died unsatisfied

And chara’s main source of unsatisfaction is how they were trying to get asriel to kill people before he died and then he didnt

So thats a strong strong feeling ruling them

So anyway by the time they both realize how bad its become they figure its too late and also the amount of LOVE has made them numb

And thats when chara who, despite everything, still has idiot hero complex and thinks they need to save the world

So, while panicking, they step in at the very end, and erase the timeline and delete everything

And also to clarify

They DONT HAVE this power at any other point in the game

Because, guess why

They become corporeal

Just like maddy, the no mercy route is the only thing that gives them strong enough emotion to spontaneously become corporeal

So they become corporeal and as soon as they have a soul again and can reset again, they just erase everything

Ok back to fluff

Post pacifist route, they are still a non corporeal ghost

They can still float around and look just like the other blooks

And it takes them a while to open up about things, but they do end up moving back in with blooky so that blooky isnt completely alone

And also they do way better with a family

Also they can float through the mountain and talk to flowey down below and bring him news

And now that they know about him, they can bond with him and explain that they dont have a soul either but that doesnt mean theyre worthless

Oh ALSO

The other dead humans dont have ghosts

BECAUSE

ghosts only come from restless dead MONSTERS

and chara is the weird special exception

Because they were a monster when they died

They became a ghost and asriel didnt because they were way more restless and stressed than asriel was when both of them died

Like sure, asriel felt awful, but chara was the one who was way more like “this is my fault, i CANT die now, the world NEEDS me”

So anyway

charablook the emo tween ghost and asriel flowey the eldrich goat daisy are siblings once more and they hang out and eventually they are okay and have a family again

Thank you for reading, this has been my thoughts on a crack theory that accidentally went too far

This isnt even everything, maybe i’ll make a part two eventually, but i promised to have this post out like two days ago, so i wanted to post SOMTHING

Anyway leave your thoughts if youd like

Im not looking for people to disprove it, i already know its crazy, i dont think it was intentional by the game writers, but i do think its a fun concept

thats the fun of it, so if anyone wants to run with it im all for it lol

Thanks again! Have a nice day!

[xnchxntmxnt]

Boys Don't Cry

Oikawa Tooru

not an x reader fic just a vent fic lol

Hahaaaaa oikawa kinnie moments

Anyway im ✨ sad ✨and projecting onto fictional characters

Im not having a mental breakdown, oikawa is. it’s fine. We good.

Tw// cursing (esp at the beginning), maybe almost anxiety attack? I dont know if you’d call it that. Repressed emotions. Lots of them. Not proofread.

boys don't cry by the cure

So I try to laugh about it

“Fuck, fuck, shit--where’s my phone, shit, where’s my god damn phone--”

“Captain?”

“Hey, shittykawa, you good?”

“Fine!” Oikawa snapped, pulling his phone out of his gym bag. He didn’t intend to sound angry--of course he didn’t, Kindaichi hadn’t done anything to upset him. Neither had Iwaizumi. Then why did he feel like this? Why did he sound so angry, why did he feel like every squeak of a sneaker against the floor and every word someone said to him was a poke at his already-disappearing composure?

“Sorry, that was rude of me,” he continued, taking a breath. He bowed to Kindaichi (who had gotten the worst of his lashing out) and shook his head. “It has been a very long day. My apologies. Let’s just get back to practice, yeah?”

No one questioned him after that, but he could see the worried glances shot his way through the rest of the night.

Cover it all up with lies

Things only got worse. He was losing his rhythm--tripping over his own two feet, missing sets, zoning out at random moments. It got so bad towards the end of practice during a scrimmage, he face-planted in the middle of the gym. In front of the whole team. Because he stepped on a ball he needed to go pick up.

Iwaizumi was the first to run over to make sure he was alright. Even if he acted like he hated him some days, he knew they were as close of friends as you could get.

This wasn't something his friends could help him with, however.

“Oi, ‘kawa, are you okay?” he asked, tossing the ball to Kunimi to put away. He knelt down next to him in an attempt to help him up.

However, Oikawa barely heard the question. His ears were ringing and he could barely see from the tears that were threatening to fall from his face.

I try to laugh about it

“Fine,” he said, trying to keep the most composure he could at the moment. He knew he didn’t sound fine, but that was besides the point. He stood up without using Iwaizumi’s help (although he had to catch him from falling again when he stumbled) and broke into a stupid smile. A broken, stupid smile. He didn't know why he was smiling. There was no reason for him to be--he just embarrassed himself in front of the entire volleyball team and could barely walk on his own.

The gym was dead silent besides his snickering at himself. Oikawa took the opportunity to wipe his eyes free of tears and turned to the coach. “I’ll be back in a moment, excuse me,” he said, not giving anyone a chance to argue before walking out of the gym.

Hiding the tears in my eyes

He went to the club room where he knew he could be alone for a couple minutes--no one was going to walk in there unless it was someone on the team. And they wouldn't either--not right now. Not when he very clearly wanted to be left alone.

He always wanted to be left alone. He had his friends in volleyball and his adoring fangirls, even his teammates he wasn’t as close with. But he never wanted to be with them anymore. Everyone got on his nerves with the little things they did, no matter what they did. They could be trying to help him or even asking if he’s okay, but it would just irritate him. Even Iwaizumi.

Oikawa sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t break down now, he had to get back to practice. But his legs shook so bad, almost all of his weight was on the table in the center of the club room. If he tried to go back now, everything would be worse.

What was that trick Mattsun had mentioned one day? Something about numbers. Breathe in...4, was it? Hold seven, out eight. He repeated that several times until the tears stopped and he could stand by himself.

Oikawa turned to the club room door, looking in the window as a mirror. His eyes were red and puffy and his hair was a mess, but that was a simple fix. He splashed some cold water on his face and wiped it with his shirt, and played with his hair till it looked normal again.

'Cause boys don't cry

Nevertheless, he’d carry on with a smile. He couldn't cry. Not now. He needed to do his best. Not when people were relying on him.

Boys don’t cry

[thechangeling]

The Box

Tiberius Blackthorn had gotten quite good at compartmentalizing. Pretending that things weren't happening, that they didn't effect him. Pretending that he didn't feel. It was almost like flicking a switch. If things got too painful or too real he just turned it off. Closed his eyes and told himself over and over.

This isn't real. This isn't really happening. This doesn't matter. I don't care.

She isn't really dead. I don't miss him. I don't love him. Over and over until the pain stopped. Ty could usually make it last for awhile. Until something brought up an unpleasant memory or feeling and then he had to start all over again.

Being around Kit again was certainly making this worse.

Kit, in true Herondale fashion was in deep trouble with multiple people. As it turned out, he was the first heir and now a bunch of people were trying to either kill or kidnap him. So now a bunch of shadowhunters and downworlders had banded together to help him defeat his enemies and keep him safe. Ty had made a huge fuss to Drusilla about being forced to help. But secretly they both knew that he would rather die then let anything happen to Kit.

So now Kit was here, back in the Los angeles institute and currently sitting at the breakfast table with that vampire friend of his and Dru. She seemed to be very adamantly telling a story and Kit was laughing hysterically. Ty felt his heart turning over in his chest at the sound. He had to fight the urge to smile.

It isn't real. I don't love him. This isn't real.

Having him this close was torture. Hearing him laugh, watching him train, watching him flirt, watching him try not to cry in front of the others. There were so many times that Ty wanted to just reach out and touch him. Run his fingers through Kit's hair, trace the curve of his cupid's bow, hold him in his arms. It was a burning, suffocating ache.

Ty leaned back against his perch up on the windowsill. He had asked Livvy to give him some space to be alone. He was doing a decent job of blending into the background with his black clothing and dark hair. Or maybe they were just ignoring him. Ty pushed away that thought.

Suddenly he felt the weight of someone hopping up beside him. They made no noise or attempts to get his attention. Ty could hear the faint sound of Under Pressure coming out of headphones.

Alyssa.

Alyssa Reyes was the werewolf from Maia's pack who had been assigned to essentially be the scholomance's liaison to the downworld and help educate future centurions about downworlder affairs. She hadn't exactly been happy about this situation and had been pretty hostile towards most of them for awhile. But she and Ty had bonded over both being autistic, and also being queer. He could honestly say that meeting Alyssa had changed his life.

He turned to face her. She was staring up at the sky, mouthing along to the words of the song. Her black wireless headphones were slud over her ears and her dark waves were tied up into a low bun. She was excitedly fiddling with the straps of her white crop top which contrasted nicely against her golden brown skin. He stared at her for awhile, just basking in her presence.

He was sad that she was going back to New York in a week. He was really going to miss her.

Eventually she turned her gaze on him, sliding her headphones down. "You have all the best hiding spots" she confessed with a smile. 'Also I figured it was time to come interrupt your lurking because it was just getting a little sad." Ty rolled his eyes at her.

"I wasn't lurking! I'm literally just sitting here!" He protested worrying instantly that they were speaking too loudly. But everyone else was deeply preoccupied with their conversations and also they were several feet away. He stole a quick glance at Kit again and practically felt Alyssa disapproval radiating off of her. Ty turned back to face her displeased expression.

When Ty had first met Alyssa she was scared and standoffish but had quickly warmed up to him. He often described her as having pure magic in her warm brown eyes, so much excitement and life practicing buzzing out of her. But now her eyes were cold and dark. She seemed angry.

"I have just about had enough of this Ty" she announced. It's clear to me how much you want him, how much you love him, so why don't you just go talk to him already?"

Ty sighed, avoiding her gaze. "I can't."

She flailed her hands haphazardly. "What do you mean you can't Ty? You can. You just won't! I'm so sick of this!" She shouted.

Ty spared a panicked glance back at the kitchen table, but they hadn't looked their way. Still Ty hopped down from the ledge.

"Here, follow me" he said to Alyssa, pulling her off the ledge. She didn't protest. She allowed him to lead her out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

"Look" he began, "I don't want to talk to Kit alright? I'm still mad at him. I'm not just going to let that go." He explained. Alyssa just stared back at him.

There was a long drawn out pause where neither of them spoke. Ty wasn't that concerned. Long drawn out pauses were kind of their thing.

"Ok" she said slowly. "I need to tell you something that you might not be ready to hear. In fact it's probably going to make you really angry. But I need you to listen."

Ty had no idea what to say to that. But Aylssa kept on talking.

"Ty you need to get over yourself" she stated simply.

Ty bristled instantly. Rage flooded through his entire being. Who the fuck did she think she was? And to hear this from Alyssa of all people. Didnt she understand why he was so hurt? Why he was so angry?

Alyssa kept going before he could yell at her, stepping towards him slightly. "Listen to me Tiberius Blackthorn. I understand your pain, better than anyone else most likely. I understand your anger. I feel it to. I feel it everyday. The way the world treats us it's like little jagged cuts everyday, slowly whittling us down into nothing." Her voice broke. Her eyes were brimmed with tears.

"But I need you to ask yourself something" she continued shakely. "I need you to ask yourself, did Kit Herondale really do this? All of this? Is all of this really his fault? Something that we talk about a lot in therapy is putting the blame where it belongs. Recognize what was caused by which person and how much fault really lies with the person you're mad at. I know you don't want to forgive him because you're hurting and your also so fucking stubborn love" she laughed despite the fact that her eyes were filled with tears.

"You refuse to move. And I know why you do that because you think if you move, you will be admitting defeat. Admitting weakness. But you aren't Ty. You are saving yourself" She reached for him but shot backwards, shaking his head. He couldn't believe her. Maybe somewhere deep down he knew that she was probably right but he didn't care. He didnt care about what he knew anymore. All he could think about was the pain he felt.

"Please" she whispered "It isn't healthy to hold a grudge for this long. It isn't good for you. It isn't good for your soul." Alyssa wiped her eyes and stood up straighter, hardening her voice. "I know you're fed up with everything, and the same things keep happening over and over again. But here's the thing. Kit isn't responsible for what Paige did to you or what your father did, or your uncle or anyone else." Ty instantly began to shake at the mention of Paige Ashdown. He could feel all if those instances coming back to him. All of those kid memories he had tried to repress.

Whenever Ty had something horrible and traumatic happen to him. Everytime someone laughed in his face, everytime someone whispered behind his back or called him a slur. Every time someone made him doubt if he was really loved. Every autistic hate crime, every murder, every debate over the concept of his soul and whether it really existed. Livvy's death. Everything that happened that day on the beach. What Kit had said to him. Kit leaving him. He took all of it, all the bad memories, all of the pain and heartbreak. He took it and shoved it into some deep place inside of him. He usually envisioned a box of some sort. He shoved it all inside of that box, shut the lid and buried it.

This isn't real. This didn't happen. This isn't happening.

Ty's entire body was vibrating now. Alyssa put her hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me. Kit Herondale is not your enemy. He isn't trying to drown you or ship you off to an institution or shove you into ABA. And I know what you're thinking, that's a pretty fucking low bar and I know!" She exclaimed. "I know! But we have to start somewhere Ty. We have to start somewhere or else we will never get anywhere. That kid is so fucking in love with you and yes he does not deserve a gold medal for doing so, but he is fighting like hell to win you back."

That much was true. Kit had been trying to talk to him all week, but Ty kept brushing him off. It wasn't enough, he always told himself. It wasnt enough. He wasnt actually sure if Kit really loved him. He just refused to believe it.

Ty shook his head at Alyssa, his fingers fluttering at his sides. He began to hit his hands against his thighs to ease some of the tention he was feeling. Alyssa squeezed his arm, taking a deep breath.

"I know you are sick and tired of explaining the same things over and over and answering stupid questions and always having to make adjustments and put in the effort when everyone else doesn't try. I am too! Believe me! But I think at a certain point you need to ask yourself if you can forgive him for not knowing?" She asked. "Can you forgive him for being ignorant and making a mistake and breaking your heart because you've hurt him too? Can you accept that he is not perfect?" She dropped her arm down and stared him directly in his eyes. "Because neither are you. Ty I know you dont wanna hear this, but you live in a very privileged bubble where most people let you get away with murder because you're a man and you're white, while those same people condemn me for being rude and intolerable." She said pointedly.

Ty bit his lip. He felt like he should argue with her but he knew she had a point. "You're a shadowhunter!" She glared at him. "You're a shadowhunter and your people have committed so many atrocities against mine. You and your family spent most of your time ignoring all of this and only focusing on helping your brother and sister. You joined an organization that has a history of doing terrible things to downworlders!" She shouted.

"Well so did you!" He shot back even though he knew it wasnt really the same thing. "And by the angel Ali if you really hate me that much then why are you even here?" Alyssa just shook her head at him and rolled her eyes. "Because I don't hate you genius. I could hold these things against you, but I don't. I forgave you for not knowing. As long as you acknowledge it and try to work on making things better, which you are, then I can let it go. Because like I said Ty, we have to start somewhere" she pleaded. "

"You have to be brave and let it go."

Instantly Ty sucked in a breath. He recognized the words she had used perfectly. They were from a song.

Their song.

Tears instantly gathered in his eyes. He let out a shakey exhale and she smiled sadly at him.

"Because right now all you're doing is hurting is yourself." Alyssa said with a shrug.

Ty squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I know" he whispered. He opened his eyes again, she was staring at him sympathetically with those warm eyes. "I just dont know how to do this" he admitted. "I don't know how to deal with all if it. I don't think I can."

Alyssa looked confused "Deal with what exactly?"

Ty took a deep breath. "The box" he exhaled. Alyssa looked even more confused. It was a little funny.

So he decided to tell her. He told her about the coping mechanisms he had been using since he was a child. He told her about the box and how many things he had buried in it, and what they were. She cried and held him tightly to her chest. He let himself cry along with her.

He cried for that kid who had the door slammed in his face, that kid who had his interests mocked and spat on. That kid who had his heart broken over and over again long before Kit Herondale. That kid who never felt accepted or like he belonged, not even with his own twin. He cried for Livvy. He cried for that kid on the beach who lost everything. Who wanted to apologize to Kit and make everything right because he was so fucking naive and stupid, and Magnus Bane told him to go away.

So he did. But it hadn't solved anything.

He also cried for Kit. His Kit.

Ty pulled away from Alyssa, wiping at his eyes. "The worst part is it's not just my pain that's in there. I put all of the stuff with Kit in the box too" he confessed. "Like I mean the stuff that's happening right now. He's in a world of danger and I can't feel that because if I feel it then I'm afraid it'll break me."

Alyssa contemplated this for a while. "I know Ty, but you have to face it. All of it. You have to open the box or else you'll never get through it." She said sternly.

Ty leaned up against the wall if the institute. When he spoke, it sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. "Every bad thing that happens to him feels like it's happening to me. Everything from when he was younger. When he was alone." Ty was making an effort not to cry again.

"I want him to know that he'll never be alone again. Not as long as I'm alive."

Alyssa looked at him incredulously. "Well then don't you think you should tell him that?"

Ty didn't answer her, just stared ahead. He still needed to think. Alyssa seemed to understand that because she spared him one final glance and then walked towards the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go eat" she announced. "Come join us when you're ready."

And then she left Ty alone in the hallway with his thoughts.

You have to open the box.

This is real. All of this is real.

You have to open the box.

@older-brother-kit @zafirafoxx @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @ti-bae-rius @anxiousbookenthusiast @emiikas @eutony-in-whisper

[jadedbirch]

Hi so i have a question if you dont mind and im curious to hear your thoughts on it. So what do you think of lwj becoming emperor in the end? I read the novel watched cql but i might mix up stuff with my personal headcanons too lmao. So maybe i have a wrong understanding or forgot stuff but to me it always seemed like not sth lwj would actually want for himself. I thought he wanted to help bring justice to normal (aka not rich clan) people 1/3 probably sry for this long ask

(which i think as emperor he would be a little distanced to the normal people with the duties to the other clans and all? I mean he would be a kind of politician). I could go on like no education to become the emperor/leading people on such a big scale (with having an older brother i dont even think he was ever meant to become clan leader was he? 2/3

But idk im going from some similar historical situations and how the leader of a state or a group of people usually acted and what mattered then) and also xiaosong parallels? My headcanon is he would have enjoyed traveling with wwx and helping people like xiaosong did while they were both still alive. Anyway thanks for your time and i hope i can get your thoughts on it. Have a good day :) 3/3

Hi there, nonnie!  Not sure what makes me the expert to tackle this, but I’m happy to try!

First, I think we need to establish which canon we’re talking about here.  In MDZS canon, LWJ and WWX get married, fuck like rabbits, and go on night hunts together while treating Cloud Recesses as their home base.  It sounds like Lan Qiren is running the sect, at least until Lan Xichen comes out of seclusion, which in the book (extras) happens a few months after Guanyin Temple, if I’m not mistaken.

In CQL canon, LWJ becomes Chief Cultivator/Xiandu, which is not the same thing as Emperor and it’s a pretty important distinction.  In order to become Emperor you have to, historically speaking, either be placed directly (via blood or adoption) into the line of succession (like Chinese dynastic cycles or Emperor Hadrian),  or via conquest (Napoleon, Alexander the Great).  I’m not an expert, but my understanding of the position of Chief Cultivator is that it’s an appointment.  In fact, they are (at least ostensibly) elected via a democratic process, with all the sects getting to vote for the appointment.  (Whether the elections are rigged are a different and totally existential discussion.) Before Wei Ying calls Lan Zhan “Xiandu” in CQL, the other people with this title were Jin Guangyao and Wen Ruohan.  It’s actually not clear to me whether Jin Guangshan ever held the title of Xiandu in CQL, but he certainly positioned himself that way. According to MDZS, this position was created by Jin Guangshan only after Jin Ling was born, so Wen Ruohan being referred to as “Xiandu” in CQL would be out of sync with MDZS canon.

Regardless, I think your question is what do I think about LWJ taking this position in the end.  So since this only happens in CQL, I have to base my answer on CQL!LWJ and what I think about him as a person.  At the end of the show LWJ says “We took a vow here” and we get the bunny lantern flashback (always so sweet to see the first time LWJ fell for WWX).  His vow was to curb the violent and assist the weak, and live without regrets.  As you say, LWJ is very much not a political animal. He can assist the weak and curb the violent without needing to take a position of so much political clout.  In fact, we know he’s been “where the chaos is” for the last 16 years anyways, but of course the implication is that he was only doing that because he was looking for Wei Ying.  Plus, he comes from a very wealthy sect, so he doesn’t need the money, and he has never shown any inclination for power.  There are other people who can do this: Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng, Sect Leader Yao (LMAO J/K, I hope he chokes). So why bother???

To me personally, it’s pretty apparent that he takes that position because he has to protect Lan Xichen from the fallout at Guanyin Temple.  Lan Xichen is now in exactly the same position that Lan Wangji was after Wei Wuxian died - he is suspected of collaborating with a demonic cultivator, he’s been implicated in Nie Mingue’s death, and tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if certain factions (Sect Leader Yao, looking at you again!) start hollering for his blood.  It’s very FORTUNATE that Nie Huaisang manipulated him into killing Jin Guangyao, in fact, things could have looked a lot worse for him had he not.  Someone is going to have to clean up the mess Jin Guangyao left behind and part of cleaning up that mess is making sure that Lan Xichen is exculpated, or at least not further implicated in his crimes.  And Lan Wangji isn’t going to trust Jiang Cheng or Nie Huaisang or any of those other fools, whom frankly he kinda loathes, to have his brother’s best interest at heart at this point.  In that regard, it makes sense that he would let Wei Ying go on his walk-about, while he stays home to clean up the enormous JGY fallout and take care of his brother.  I can only presume as soon as the mess is clean, Wei Ying is back, and they’re happily and grossly married and back to humping like rabbits, he will find a way to unburden himself of his responsibilities as Chief Cultivator.  Surely, this should all be Nie Huaisang’s problem anyways?  ;)

That may not position LWJ’s actions in the same “noble” light as him purely altruistically just wanting to help out the little guy and uphold justice, but I don’t see Lan Wangji as a purely 100% nobly motivated character, because that would make him boring as hell.  He is very good and very pure in many ways, but he’s also petty and he’s embittered and he’s been repressing decades of fucked up trauma (let’s not even mention his fucked up childhood).  What he needs is some cuddle time with his husband and a lot of therapy, not this Chief Cultivator gig.  So yeah, that’s my take on it anyways.  Thank you for thinking that I might have something useful to offer on the topic!  Love you!

[fucker-anon]

Bloody Painter Headcanons

am i gonna write about helen even tho no one cares? fUCK YEA @creepy-bi-day hope you enjoy. Im still not a writer sorry :/. also my personal hcs, its okay to disagree. Also dark themes again. 

Bloody Painter

Backstory:

was born on Oct 1st, 1980, fully name Helen Otis

mother is white, father is Japanese

is an only child. Helen’s parents had a very difficult time in getting pregnant like yeeeaaars (10 ish) and they also really wanted a girl. Like in their head, they would be getting a girl. and when they did get pregnant the ultra scan did show a girl. so they were in shock when a boy popped out. 

they no likely. Since helen’s mom was a teacher, they decided to raise the boy as a girl and simply homeschool them until they had to go to college, once there they could simply transition into a girl. This is how they thought trans people were so they thought they’ll do the same to get a girl (This was obliviously wrong)

so they tried to do that but mother couldn’t get the needed forms and paperwork to homeschool Helen so they had to go to school. so their parents decided the best thing to do was to make them as manly as possible in 6 months. so everything pink and girl (lots of which were comfort items like plushies, and art things) were thrown out in front of poor 6 year old Helen who didn’t understand what was happening. Helen couldn’t do art, couldn’t wear certain clothes, couldn’t say certain things. punishments weren’t physical but there was a lot of yelling.

around the 3 month before school started, their parents decided that maybe Helen should meet their grandparents (parents kept giving excuses why they couldn’t visit). everything was going swell until the grandparents on the father’s side asked why name their BOY a GIRL name. before the parents could say anything, helen said “cause im a girl?” ... yaaaa queerphobic grandparents and little helen didn’t get along. plus helen was white passing so asian grandparents blamed their mom.

parents cut contact with the grandparents, and yelled at helen a lot. (poor bby) this mental abuse continued over 3 months and caused helen to stop talking and start repressing a lot of his feeling which his parents encouraged cause “”bOYs donT hAve fEeLinGs””

in school, the parents told the teacher that there was a mix up when filling out his name and that they should call him Otis. Of course one teacher messed up and called him Helen, and then they got a lot of comments form their peers, but they learned not to say that they were a girl at this point. 

helen was lightly bullied for his name, and when they tried to tell a teacher they were told to “man up :))” 

and so more repressing feelings

it wasn’t until middle school where someone (a kid who they later learned was named tom), stole and planted a watch of another girl into helen’s bag. This meant helen’s bullying got a lot worse. Before it was a comment here or there, now it was physical and a lot often. this is also when he began to develop symptoms of anxiety and depression.

he slowly became friends with Tom, who was also bullied a lot. But one day Tom took Helen to the roof where Tom confessed into planting the watch. Helen was very upset, and the two started to argue when Tom slipped off the edge, Helen tried to hold on to Tom, but Tom let go of his hand. Tom dead.

there was an investigation done, and Helen wasn’t in trouble as some students and teachers said how they saw him hold onto Tom. The school was given a speech about how bullying was bad, and tried to get things back to normal. Helen’s bully did die down, tho lots of ppl tried to spread rumors about how he pushed Tom. 

his parents were more upset over how this would look and not about Helen’s mental health. Helen never told them about the bulling. 

When high school started, the bullies acted as if nothing happened. and on Halloween, Helen snapped and killed 5 of the main bullies. He was caught and sent to a mental hospital. 

so you think that finally, Helen can get the help they need right :)). ahhah no....

so the hospital did diagnose Helen with depression and a mild case of anxiety, but basically put them on pills. the actually therapist had a very hard time getting Helen to open up. this is because the on their first session helen started with his gender identity, and the therapist told him “look you are biologically a boy, so you must be a boy :))” and when they said that sometimes he felt more comfortable when they were more fem, they was told that was wrong. 

so helen shut up like a clam cause they did not feel safe with this guy

at least they learned how to somewhat manage their depression and anxiety :)

once helen turned 18 he was released, and Helen decided to be an artist and not kill. but he saw another one of his bullies and said fuck it.

slender saw and was like “i like this child. imma adopt them”

and Helen joined the mansion

Personality:

look Helen was mocked and betrayed by basically every person in their life, they don’t trust ppl

they are nice, but they don’t new people

if you’re nice they’ll be nice, if you’re mean they’ll be mean, simple

cold hearted, look if you are neutral to them and get run over by car they wont do anything. the world was shit to them, they’re shit back.

quiet. like Helen could be inches away and you still won’t hear them

buttttt if you get close (good luck) you see a passionate, kinda nerdy, very kinda touch starved, sarcastic person who just lived a shitty life. 

Fun Facts:

k mans has a 6 inch dick, 7 when hard, but is thick, and stretches you out-

*cough* moving on-

bi sexual. Helen has a very hard time acknowledging romantic feelings but is down to date the girls, gays and theys. again good luck getting there but it may happen.

gender fluid Helen has come a long way and their gender identity has ranged from girl, boy, both, none and yes. They’ve settled on gender-neutral pronouns but doesn’t hate being called she/her or he/him usually. On a bad day, they can’t say the same. 

Called them painter. The only ppl who can called them by their birth names are ppl who are close to them. On fem days, they like Helen. On masc days, they like Otis. Sometimes they don’t care, sometimes they just wanna be called painter. If you’re not sure and you actually care just ask, he’ll say what day it is. usually they dress accordingly, but still if you’re not sure ask, they’ll prefer it.

Speaking of clothes, the fit??? is on point???? like imagine dark academia with more blues, blacks and tans. Helen looks like the protagonist of a boarding school au.

they will wear skirt and dresses and corsets, and do they’re (slightly basic) hair and makeup.

some creeps (jeff) tried to make fun of helen for this. And when you look at Helen you dont think that they’re much of a fight. Helen’s lean and kinda thin (kid doesn’t eat a lot), but Helen did karate for year cause their dad wanted their “perfectly normal son” to do something manly and kinda close to their culture. Helen learned how to fight with a very good guard and how to be very fast but not so much strong. Wasn’t until he got out of the mental hospital did he learn about pressure points, specially those that dont need a lot pressure :) you see where this is going. 

Basically Helen is that one movie character who touches a spot on someone's neck and they pass out. (this is the best i can describe it, they dont do this exactly but similar things) 

also very talented at art and arty things. like annoyingly good. he’ll try wood craving and make amazing things after only learning about it an hour ago. Current draws online and does online commissions to pay for his coffee

actually likes hunting, not with gun but with like bows an arrows. they dont hunt often cause they like animals

has to finish whatever they’re working on. please force this baby into bed

has a coffee addiction

likes classical music and lofi. 

dont talk about the whole painting with blood thing, they were 14, it was cringey, they know

hair is like chin length ish, its black with waves, so if they wanna be masc they can tie it up and when its fem, they can let it down and straighten it 

forgets to eat, feed them

k this is long. As you can see I can also write a whole essay about Helen. I will write about Helen’s and Johnny friendship, along with the other creeps later. but im tired. 

[valeriethepussycats]

Assemble

Chapter 3

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing 

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Flashback Bold

The next day.  Y/n  is standing outside a gym trying to keep her powers under control but but it’s hard when your surrounded by people.

What’s in my fridge right now?....Do I have any milk?

I think I’m pregnant with my brother in-law baby’s

How come you never read about a psychic

winning the lottery?

Am I Ashy? I hope I’m not Ashy.

Why is  Batman a superhero when he brutally Beats up bad guys for saying hello.

When I get home I’m watching A Bug’s Life.

Calming down the voices she finally walks inside the gym and see Captain America. He’s beats the punching bag harder, like physically hurting it will repress the memories.

Hydra base, Captain America is running through a forest, didging mortar shells, gunfire and Tesseract energy blasts.

“There's not enough time! I gotta put her in the water!” Steve’s Voice echoed.

In the present, Steve's punches become harder and more violent.

Steve places the compass he has, featuring a picture of Peggy Carter, on the dash as the plane plummets towards the ice.

The present, punches become voilent and agressive.

“You won't be alone.” Peggy declared.

Red skull picked up the Tesseract, and vanishes.

In the present, Steve is beathing the bag with everything he has, destroying it and beating his fists.

“Oh my god!”

Steve is lying on a table, half frozen, and still partially trapped in a slab of ice. Two SHIELD scientists run equipment over him, checking for his vitals. Something flickers...

“This guy is still alive!”

Y/n  gets pulled out of Steve’s mind. “Wow. That one way to come backwards to the world.

“You punch any harder your fist is gonna go though it.“

Steve stops punching the bag and turns around and see Y/n. “Agent Munroe ma’am. Phil told me that you were coming.”

“Y/n. Just call me Y/n.” She said with a smile.

Steve starts to punch the bag again. “It's nice to meet.”

“Likewise. So how do you feel?” Y/n asked showing concern for a man she just met.

Y/n walks up to a punching bag next to Steve and, starts playfully punching it.

“Like I belong in a different time.....all of this is so strange. Flat screen TVs, cars that run on electricity.....” Steve trailed off.

“It’s understandable but look at the bright side you can have food deliver to your house.” Y/n said with a fond look.

Steve looks at Y/n confused.

“Pizza. Chinese food... Oh men we have to make some stops before we go to Shield.” Y/n  proclaimed.

“We don’t have time to make stops. They need us this is important.” Steve protested.”You’re right they do. But you need to experience this first and I know you're hungry.” Y/n insisted.

Steve sigh defeat. “Ok fine but only for an hour two at it’s tops.”

“Yes! You dont know it yet but This the start of an beautiful friendship.” Y/n said With a sincere smile as her and Steve walk out the gym.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Inside the Quinjet, Steve is sitting down with a tablet, watching the footage of the Hulk's attack on the Army at Culver University.

“We're about forty minutes out from base, sir.” One of the pilots said

Agent Coulson stands up from his seat and wipe his face with a napkin.

Francis’s pizza is so good.

Y/n chuckles as Coulson and walks over to her and Steve.

“So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?” Steve asked.

“A lot of people were. I was assign to stop some of them. You were the world's first superhero.” Y/n  replied.

“Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula.” Coulson informed Steve.

The Hulk roars with fury as he slams a jeep apart.

“Didn't really go his way, did it?” Steve queried.

“Not so much. When he's not that thing though, guy's like a Stephen Hawking” Coulson explained.

Steve looks confused.

Y/n leans over and whispers. “He's a smart person.”

“I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you, officially.” Steve smiles at Coulson as he continues. “I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping.”  Steve looks down then a Y/n. He stands up, closes his laptop and walks to the side with Coulson following. “I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really, it's just a... just a huge honor to have you on board.”

“Smooth. Real smooth Coulson.” Y/n lied.

“Well, I hope I'm the man for the job.” Steve remarked.

“Of course you are you’ve done amazing things in the past. You’re the perfect person for this job.” Y/n said sincerely and with a small smile.

“Ya Absolutely. Uh... we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input.”  Coulson told Steve.

“The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little... old fashioned?” Steve supposed.

“With everything that's happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old fashioned.” Coulson stated.

As Steve takes in Coulson's sentiment. The Quinjet lands down a massive battleship known as the Helicarrier. It has two runways. One with direct access to a hangar at the rear is aligned along the spine of the vessel.  Y/n walks up to Phill.

“Does the name Ororo Munroe mean anything to you?” Y/n questioned.

“No. Does it suppose to.” Coulson lied.

“No I guess not.” Y/n remarked not hiding her disappointment.

Agent Coulson, Y/n, and  Steve walk down the ramp, meeting up with Natasha.

“Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers.” Coulson said introducing the two.

“Ma’am?” Steve replied.

“Hi.” She looks at Coulson. “They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face-trace.”

“Nat” Y/n said happily. “I didn’t know you were going to be here Coulson doesn’t tell me anything.” Y/n hugs Natasha then they both look at Coulson like ‘explain.’

“See you there.” Coulson said walks away, leaving Steve and Y/n with Natasha, the pair walking towards the railing of the Helicarrier.

“It was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice. I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?” Natasha wondered.

“Trading cards?” Steve asked confused.

“They’re vintage, he's very proud.” Y/n disclosed.

Bruce Banner is seen walking around the ship, trying to stay out of the way while people walk in his way.

“Dr. Banner.” Steve called out.

The three walk up to each other and shake hands.

“Oh, yeah. Hi. They told me you'd be coming.” Bruce began. “You must be agent  Munroe.”

“You can call me Y/n it’s nice to finally meet you.” Y/n replied.

“Thanks.” Bruce said in a casual tone.

“Word is you can find the cube.” Steve Inclined.

“Is that the only word on me?” Bruce questioned.

“Only word I care about.” Steve answered.

Bruce takes in the sentiment. “It must be strange for you, all of this.”

Steve looks off to where a group of men in training are running, remembering his days in the army. “Well, this is actually kind of familiar.”

“Gentlemen, you might want to step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breath.” Natasha disclosed.

The Helicarrier starts to shake as it prepares to take "sail". Others abord strap down planes and Quinjets in preparation.

“Is this a submarine?” Steve asked Y/n.

“Really? They wanted me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?” Bruce Said with sarcasm.

“No no it not a submerged.” Y/n answered.

The two both move closer to the edge of the Helicarrier. Four huge lift fans mounted on the sides starts to lift into the air as the ship takes flight. Steve watches in awe while Bruce just smiles.

“Oh, no. This is much worse.”  Bruce said with mock astonishment.

The doors part and we enter the bridge of the ship. A flurry of activity, dozens of agents sit in front of their viewscreens. Agent Hill shouts instructions to leave. The camera turns to Nick Fury who is at the command chair.

“We're at lock, sir.”  Agent Hill disclosed.

“Good. Let's vanish.” Nick answered.

The Helicarrier rises high into the heavens. Suddenly the entire ship is covered in reflecting mirrors, which then camouflages in the sky. Steve, Y/n and Banner walk through the glorious, gleaming bridge

“Gentlemen.” Nick started.

Steve gives Fury 10 bucks, referring to his earlier statement about never being surprised again. “And agent Munroe what a Surprise I thought you were in Sydney.”

“Well I got tired of helping Umm Marlin look for Nemo.” Y/n said with fire.

Fury walks over Banner and extends his hand. Banner, reluctantly shakes it.] Doctor, thank you for coming.

“Thanks for asking nicely. So, uh... how long am I staying?” Bruce asked.

“Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you're in the clear.” Nick replied.

“Where are you with that?” Bruce asked.

Nick Fury turns to Agent Coulson to explain, while Natasha eyes an image of Clint Barton on a computer screen.

“We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cellphones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us.” Agent Coulson explained.

“That's still not gonna find them in time.”  Natasha mumbled.

“Couldn’t we use spectrometers to speed up the process?” Y/n said pondering out loud.

“Yes that could work. How many spectrometers do you have access to?” Bruce voiced.

“How many are there?” Nick asked Bruce.

“Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I'll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?” Bruce said with determination

“Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please.” Nick order.

Natasha nods and walks off, leading Banner down the hall. “You're gonna love it, Doc. We got all the toys.”

Y/n goes to leave as well but gets stop by the sound of Nick Fury.

“Agent Munroe my office.” Nick announced.

“No offense but I don’t think you want that right now.” Y/n said fire.

“My office now.” Nick hissed ordered

Y/n and Nick walks to his office in silence. Y/n is barely holding back her anger and this Conversation with Director Fury is not going to help but she needs to get this off her chest or she’ll explode.  Director Fury opens the door to his office and Motion for Y/n to walk in. She walks past him into the room and sit down in the chair in front of his desk. Director Fury closes the door and looks at Y/n.

“What are you doing here?” Nick asked.

“I’m here to help.” Y/n declared.

“You were supposed to be in Sydney.” Nick pointed out

“How do you know I was supposed to be in Sydney I haven’t called to do a check in.” Y/n teased.

I wonder if he’s going to tell me that he has a Tracking Device on me.

“Agent Coulson told me of your whereabouts.” Nick answered.

“Hmm I bet he did.” Y/n replied.

”Your assistance is no longer required we can we can handle it from here head home.” Nick ordered.

“Are you kidding me.” Y/n shouted. As she shot up from her seat. “I’m the only one here that knows anything remotely about Loki and you’re gonna bench me.”

”And how would you know that.” Nick questioned.

“re.....search.” Y/n lied.

Nick gives Y/n ‘the I’m not believing you’ look.

“Ok fine I was there ok I fought The Destroyer.” Y/n  confessed.

“I already knew I was just waiting on you to tell me.” Nick replied.

“Of course you knew why wouldn’t you know.” Y/n said dryly.

“I’m not saying you’re not best the person for the job I’m saying  it’s not safe with your condition.” Nick remarked.

“My cond- what is my condition?”

“It is not....it’s not safe for the people on this Helicarrier if you don’t have control your powers.”

“You want to talk about safety of the people, was you trying to keep me safe by not telling me my mother is alive or keeping me away from Gambit.” Y/n Stated.

The anger she felt roll off of her like a wave which made the room begin to shake.

“Y/n I didn’t tell you because-“

“You are afraid another November 18 is gonna happen.....ye have little faith. I want Gambit here now and if you can’t get him here I want a number. I’m not talking those stupid pills anymore.” Y/n declared as she throws the pill bottle in trash. “And I’m going to stay here and help and you’re going to allow it.”  Y/n finished as she walks out of the room not waiting for his response.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back in the underground lab, Loki is looking Looking through all the Shield Agent portfolios until he comes across one in particular. Agent Munroe’s portfolio. As Loki opens portfolios to read it he finds every page in there to be blank.

“Agent Barton a word.” Loki called.

Clint walks over to Loki like a puppet with strings.

“What do you know of Agent Munroe?” Loki asked.

“She is a powerful mutant that can control the weather and read minds.” Clint answered.

“Read minds hmm that will be all.”  Loki said smirking.

Erik and several scientists work around the CMS device. Clint walks in, holding a tablet.

“Put it over there!” Erik told Clint. “Where did you find all these people?”

“Shield has not shortage of enemies, Doctor.” Clint Stated as he holds up a screen showing information on Iridium. “Is this the stuff you need?”

“Yeah, iridium. It's found in meteorites, it forms anti-protons. It's very hard to get hold of.” Erik explained.

“Especially if Shield knows you need it.” Clint Mumbled

“Well, I didn't know!” Erik said gruffly. Then he Sees Loki walking in. “Hey! The Tesseract is showing me so much. It's more than just knowledge, it's... truth.”

“I know. What did it show you, Agent Barton?” Loki wondered.

“My next target.” Clint voiced

“Tell me what you need.” Loki replied.

“I'll need a distraction.” Clint said grabbing his bow. “And an eyeball.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

That night in the Helicarrier bridge. As they are waiting to locate Loki using satellite facial recognition, Coulson is standing with Steve.

“I mean, if it's not too much trouble.”Coulson suggested

“No, no. It's fine.” Steve reassured Coulson.

“It's a vintage set. It took me a couple of years to collect them all. Near mint, slight foxing around the edges, but...”

“We got a hit. Sixty-seven percent match. Weight, cross match, seventy-nine percent.” Agent Jasper Sitwell announced.

“Location?” Coulson asked.

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding.” Agent Jasper Sitwell answered.

“Captain, you're up.” Nick disclosed.

Steve nods and walks off the bridge. Walking down the hallway he passes Y/n.

“We found Loki he’s In Germany.” Steve informed Y/n as he’s walking down the hallway.

“Radio silence  and now he’s making appearance that’s not strange at all.....You got this Cap now go show him who’s he’s Messing with.”  Y/n sincerely with a smile.

“Yes ma’am.”  Steve said with a fond look and a head nod.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Outside the Stuttgart Museum, it’s night. Loki is standing in front of the museum, dressed in 21st Century attire with his scepter disguised as a cane. He walks up to the entrance of the gala.

A lavished gala with an orchestra playing is interrupted as the head doctor walks up to the mic.

Inside Helicarrier where Steve's locker is. Steve walks into the locker room. As he approaches to the steel cabinet, the doors already reveal the updated Captain America uniform, along with the famous shield. He stands in silence.

Outside the museum. German guards stand in their positions. One of them is standing on tip of the roof, scoping. He then hears a sound. He looks down. One of his guards is shot with an arrow. He raises his gun. He is shot dead by an arrow. Falls down. Barton and his crew arrive at the doors of the locked science building. Barton looks at the retinal scanner.

He pulls out a Shield eye scanner instrument. Inside the gala, Loki looks from above the museum and descends down to where the head doctor is. As he makes it down and near the stage, he flips his cane the other end. The guard there notices him, pulls out his gun, but Loki clubs his head in. Chaos erupts. Guests begin to leave the museum. Loki grabs the doctor and flips him over onto a marble table of the mythological creatures bilchsteim. Loki pulls out an optical torture device. He plunges down the doctor's eye. The doctor twists in pain.

Outside the museum.

Suddenly from Barton's instrument, a holographic eye of the head doctor appears and the image of the doctor appears on screen. The doors to the facility open. Barton walks in and finds in a cabinet, a glass thermos with a cylinder of iridium. As the crowd runs away, Loki slowly walks out and materializes in his gold armor and helmet. The police arrive and with no hesitation, he blasts the cars, flipping them over and over.

“Kneel before me.” Loki voiced but  crowd ignores him. Three more Loki's appear, surrounding and blocking the crowd from escaping. “I said KNEEL!” Loki yelled. While the crowd quietly kneels, Loki embraces out his arms with a wide smile

“Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.” Loki declared.

As the words resonate to the kneeling crowd, an elder German man refuses to kneel and stands, heroic. “Not to men like you.”

“There are no men like me.” Loki specified.

“There are always men like you.” Elder German Man remarked.

“Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example.” As Loki is about to execute the man with his scepter as the light glows blue. Right as the energy beam shoots out, Captain America arrives, diving in just in time to block the blast with his shield, and knocking down Loki.

“You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing.” Captain America explained

Loki Standing up. “The soldier. A man out of time.”

“I'm not the one who's out of time.” Captain America replied.

From above Captain America, the Quinjet arrives. A machine gun is pointed towards Loki, while Natasha speaks from inside the aircraft.

“Loki, drop the weapon and stand down.”

Like greased lightning, Loki sends a blast of blue at the Quinjet. Natasha maneuvers it just in time, giving Cap the time to throw his shield at Loki. They both began to duke it out. Loki flings Cap to the ground, and then Cap throws his shield, but Loki swats it away. As Cap is knocked down by Loki, the scepter is pointed to Cap's helmet.

“Kneel.” Loki ordered.

“Not today!” Cap flips and knocks him out with his leg. Loki grabs him and flips him over]

“This guy's all over the place.” Natasha mumbled.

Suddenly AC/DC's "Shoot to Thrill" overdrives to the Quinjets speakers.

“Agent Romanoff, did you miss me?” Tony Stark wondered. Both Cap and Loki look up at the sky. Tony flies over in his Iron Man suit and blasts Loki right back to the ground. Iron Man touches down. He stands up and pulls out every piece of weaponry the suit has. “Make your move, Reindeer Games.”

Loki puts up his hands and surrenders. His armour materializes away

“Good move.” Tony said in a level tone.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Captain.”

Part 4

[azuries]

why i abandoned twitter, ig and closed my main form of interaction (asks)

i dont really want to give a long explanation of why ive been so out of it lately, so ill do my best to keep it brief.

my second term in university, which was like..i guess 5-6 months ago, was the most stressed ive been in, ever.

i was struggling with deadlines, i was way behind my classmates, and i didnt feel like i was doing enough when it came to quality with my projects. i also felt like i was on the verge of failing. it felt worse knowing i had a scholarship to maintain and with my parents warning me constantly that it was possible to lose their job due to the pandemic, i basically felt pressured bc i couldnt afford to fail, despite my lack of motivation and mental capacity to exceed. i was also going through some familial issues, along with relationship issues with some people which i am guilty for not controlling well.

the stress basically piled up in one go and i felt trapped.

in my final day for the sem, i was miserable. i felt like i was in the lowest point of my life and i thought of things to do to myself i wouldnt dare imagine doing now. i felt empty and lonely, and i didnt want to talk to anyone. i didnt deserve to talk to anyone. i felt like i wasnt worth spending time with. i could barely look at myself in the mirror.

i took a break from twitter specifically, for a couple of days, probably weeks. i came back for a short while, but i refused to let myself interact with anyone bc of how ashamed i was. i even locked my account so people wouldnt find me anymore. i was in a really bad place and i never felt lonelier, and as a person who's known to be usually vocal with feelings, i repressed what i was thinking to everyone i knew, and that kind of terrified me. instead of fixing it and confronting the problem, ive been running away from it. the guilt just kept piling up for the past months, and i still feel disgusted with myself for ever thinking i was worth their time and lacking communication like a dumbass, knowing that i was a sorry excuse of a human being and how it would hurt even more if they found out how much of a failure i am.

i was gone from my old twitter for god knows how long now. i avoided talking to my friends because i was so afraid of confrontation, and most of them had connections to the person that was affecting me the most. if one dm'd me, id immediately uninstall the app out of fear. i never had the courage to see their message and panic blocked them. it even got so bad to the point a friend of mine who commissioned me had to follow me up on their order, and i wasnt able to deliver after so many months of waiting. i refunded their money and gave them extra as an apology. i havent checked my business email since it was linked to my twitter and it showed notifs of my friends.

this is the main reason i closed asks and messages. i didnt want to be found, and i was afraid id run into them. if im being honest, i dont think im gonna be fully back anytime soon. im still figuring out my feelings and its still up for debate if im ever planning to talk to them again. i owe them an apology for being gone for so long without at least an explanation, but i feel like its too late for me to say anything, considering how long its been. they probably hate me right now, and honestly they have every right to. i also dont want to blame that person, since they tried their best to make it up to me after what they did, but i simply could not have forgotten how much it hurt no matter how hard i tried. ig that also plays a major factor in why i couldnt talk to my friends since theyre connected to that person as well.

so all in all, yes ive been strayed away from it for a while. even though the pain and guilt is there, i dont think i wasted my time sulking. ive been focusing on my schoolwork a lot more, ive (mostly) repaired the relationship with my parents, and i finally found the courage to reopen commissions again as a way to swear to myself to never leave anyone hanging like that again. i feel a lot more lonely tbh, but at least much more productive. things that happened made me focus on the things i wouldnt have prioritized if i didnt spend most of my time online.

it doesnt mean i regret i met them though. not one bit. spending time with them made my life less of a living hell and i will forever be thankful for the laughs and love they gave me. i feel guilty that i wasnt able to give them the same amount.

if you guys ever read this, im so sorry im too much of a coward to confront you guys myself. i just wish the best for all of you and i hope youre all staying safe and taking care of yourselves. maybe ill come back, maybe i wont. but just know, i truly am sorry for leaving so suddenly, and in better circumstances we can hopefully be reacquainted when we're all in a better place mentally.

thank you for reading, and if you reached the end of this message, congratulations you saw my oversharing 👈👈

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

[thisstableground]

I kinda want to see how Usnavi deal with stress or when he's sad in general. Idk if you mind,,,, just in the mood for angsty stuff,,,,,

why would he deal with stress or sadness when he can just repress it heavily until he has an anxiety breakdown about it?!! 

 i pretty much see him as working in a cycle like that and never quite learning to just share his feelings BEFORE they get overwhelming. i think he was much less anxiety prone when he was a kid/teenager – he had his share of heartaches and stresses and things that upset him, especially when it came to schoolwork, but even when he was struggling he had this optimism at his core that everything would work out okay eventually. he’d talk to his parents or his friends or abuela and know that they’d help him out, he had this kind of confidence in his support system. 

 and then his parents died, and it pretty much changed his entire worldview. for one, it made him a lot more anxious on a daily basis, because now he can’t tell hiimself that everything turns out okay when he knows that sometimes it doesnt and how badly wrong things can go. this is also where i see a lot of his tendency to just kind of freeze up and not know how to act starts: he’s so worried about making the wrong choices and losing someone/something important to him again that he’ll just sit and talk himself in circles for hours without making any progress. and he still trusts his support system as people, but he has this new fear now that somehow he’ll lose them too, so there isn’t quite the same sense of security about it. 

 he was pretty fucked up after it happened and when he’s finally made some progress on recovering from that, that i think he’s very scared of ever ending up in that dark emotional place again. a lot of little habits that crop up whenever he’s feeling particularly bad are ones that started around that time: he’s a stress smoker, and even though he doesn’t smoke regularly theres always periods of a week or two a couple of times a year where he temporarily picks it back up again. he already isn’t the best sleeper but it gets significantly worse when he’s having a bad time so he takes a lot of depression naps to make up for only getting 3 hours of sleep at night. he has a tendency to just kind of disappear without telling people, not on purpose and like obviouslyy he’s still in the store but he’ll suddenly stop answering texts and he’ll cancel socialising plans for no reason. he’s usually way more on the hyperactive side of ADHD but when he’s in a bad place emotionally then he tends to lean way more to inattentive type, just spacing out mid-conversation. 

he always has this worry that if he’s kept hold of these bad habits from after his folks died then what if that means the rest of it could also come back? he hated feeling that way, so he worries that by acknowledging when he’s feeling bad then he’ll be opening a door to the whole thing coming back as hard as it did the first time. and he also knows how much everyone who loves him worried about him during that time and he feels this sense of duty to not put them through that again and to keep them all happy. he puts a lot of his sense of self in being the bubbly, cheerful, silly dude he is and it’s sort of a blow to his sense of identity whenever he’s having a prolonged bad time, so again, just tries to put the happy face on and hope it all blows over. 

he also, i think, feels a very increased need to look after people and to be the caretaker role, partly because he’s trying to make up for his own sense of guilt about his parents, and partly because it just makes him feel more in control of his life, so he isn't as good at letting people take care of him when he feels like he should be taking care of them. usnavi is someone who knows how to work his ass off and he works his ass off at being happy as much as he does with running the store. 

he’s still got a lot of optimism, its just that his life has put a lot of anxieties and mental roadblocks in the way of it: it’s not so much that he believes everything will work out fine the way he used to believe, but more that he so desperately wants everything to be fine and is trying his best to make it happen. i dont think this is always a bad thing: sometimes just telling himself that things will be okay and making himself go about his life as usual and refusing to let lifeget him down does help, because some problems fade away on their own if you don’t give them the time of day.

 but then for recurring/long-lasting problems like money, health, exhaustion, grief etc it’s the exact opposite of helpful, because the problem isn’t going away and so repressing it just means he’s shoving more and more things inside a mental cupboard until eventually the door just bursts open and it all spills out on the floor. that’s like, usnavi freaking out in Hundreds of Stories vibe, where once things start coming out it all comes out at once in a babbling frantic mess. this most often happens in front of abuela because she’s the one he finds most comfort in when he’s feeling like that. 

 its kind of got to the point where everyone just recognises that this is how usnavi works. when he’s going through a bad phase – i think he’s mostly happy now but sometimes life throws shit at him, and i also think that he has a mild case of seasonal affective disorder because winter just reminds him of a lot of bad stuff – then they know eventually it’ll all come out in one big explosion and then he’ll feel better after that, and they just kinda have to wait for it to happen. and usually once he's had a meltdown about it, then he's a lot more receptive to advice or being looked after or like having a decent night's sleep for once.

[suppressedanxiety]

Hey Pat? Are you feeling okay? I’m sure your meal was delicious, Logan and Roman just have a lot on their minds that’s all

Anonymous said: Noooo Pat ok I wanna be nice, until Virgil becomes big again, all of Patton’s meals with taste 3x better than usual, and all cookies will taste 5x better than usual. On that note, I wanna magic a few chocolate chip cookies (on a plate) to his room, and also a comforting feeling once he enters (because I platonically love my Sander dad and I dont like him being sad) ~💙

@oxylillikay said: With Anxiety still contained, how is Patton doing?

Patton sniffled in his room, wrapped up in a blanket burrito and desperately trying to stave off the negative thoughts crowding the back of his mind. He had paced in front of Anxiety’s room for almost half an hour before knocking, quiet at first and then loud, but to no avail. 

The anxious side was still avoiding him. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Anxiety for days now, and while normally he would remind himself to be patient and let the other side take things at his own pace, his endurance was running thin. 

It seemed like no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. Anxiety didn’t respond to any of his olive branches, and Roman and Logan were both withdrawing, going off to do their own important things and leaving Patton behind. Leaving him alone. 

He wiped his nose on his sleeve, caught in a cycle of longing for company and hating himself for longing when they had their own lives and duties to attend to. Thomas needed them, all of them, and what was Patton doing? Sitting around being useless and forgetting to help him socialize until it was already too late. 

Logan had already started to get suspicious after the study group, and Patton was sure he’d only managed to get through that because Logan was loathe to inspect anything to do with feelings too closely; If Roman began sniffing around the incident, he’d see through Patton in an instant. 

Especially since Patton had let Thomas muck everything up so badly. 

Sure, he had felt just peachy while the study group was happening, and brushed Logan’s concern off at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the event had gone horribly wrong. 

Thomas hadn’t cleaned up anything, feeling self assured in his appearance, even though there was a kind of gross smell emanating from the trash can and he’d already slept in the shirt he was wearing. He’d said a few embarrassing pick up lines to the cute guy in the group at exactly the wrong times, interrupting the flow of the study group and making everyone feel awkward. Patton was terrified that they had all left early because of it. 

He couldn’t even get Thomas to apologize properly, because he was hiding all these negative thoughts from his host, keeping any worries about the situation tucked close to his chest. 

After all, if Thomas started panicking and the others found out, they’d be so upset with him! They would probably start ignoring him like Anxiety was, and then he’d really be alone, all the time. Forever. 

Anonymous said: Is it just me, or does Patton seem like he’s taking over the role of anxiety as well? :0

Anonymous said: So it’s becoming apparent that Patton is being affected with anxiety. Are there going to be any external effects of this like the darkening under the eyes that happened in AA Part 2? (I know this is pre-AA but I was just wondering if the puffball is gonna get some eye shadow).

Anonymous said: But it would take a while to remake everything and the current food would get cold and gross, and what if they came downstairs to eat and there was only gross cold food and they left without eating anything and maybe passed out in their rooms and hit their heads on something on the way down and it would all be because of him?“ That sure is a run on sentence you got in your head there Patton. I’m sure you’re doing fine mentally. That’s a totally normal, healthy thought pattern I’m sure…

Anonymous said: From the sounds of it Patton is starting to have his own anxious thoughts. When he was worried about the others passing out from lack of food and hurting themselves because of it. Is it possible that if anxiety is repressed too long that he would cease to exist and essentially fuse into Patton since he’s the other main emotional side?

Anonymous said: Gee Patton it’s kinda starting to sound like your spiraling? Or developing anxiety yourself? Everything looking ok there bud?

Patton gave in and rubbed at his eyes even though he knew it would only make them all puffy and that would worry the others if they needed him for something and then they’d find out, and-

His increasingly panicked train of thought was swiftly derailed as he caught sight of a dark smear on his knuckles, the ones he’d been rubbing his eyes with. 

It was… eyeshadow? But that didn’t make any sense. That was Anxiety’s motif, representing the sleeplessness that often came with his presence and Thomas’s tendency to rub at his eye makeup when stressed or exhausted. It shouldn’t be on Patton, especially not when he hadn’t seen the anxious Side in ages. 

Come to think of it, had he slept lately…?    

He thought back on some of his behaviors for the past few days, and didn’t like what he saw. He had been feeling increasingly… well, anxious. That would be all well and good if he was a person, but he was a Side. He wasn’t supposed to take on other Sides’ roles, not unless… 

Not unless something had happened to them. 

Panic hit Patton so hard that his head swam, imagining all the ways Anxiety could have gotten hurt or worse without him knowing. He’d been sitting around moping about his own hurt feelings while the other Side was dealing with something bad enough that he could be fading entirely! 

He jolted out of bed, tears blurring his vision, and immediately hit the floor. He was hit with another wave of self loathing. No wonder the others didn’t want to be around him. 

… Wait. The others.

Anonymous said: Hm. The boys being evasive around Pat screwing with his head probably is making the extra negative processing EXTRA HARD.

Anonymous said: Patton, don’t you think Roman and Logan have been acting a bit strange recently? -🐌

Were they okay? The two of them had promised to give Patton’s meals to Anxiety if they saw him, but what if they ended up hurt by whatever was hurting Anxiety? What if they had been acting different lately because they were on their way to vanishing too? 

He couldn’t let that happen. 

Patton pushed himself up off the floor, untangling the blankets from his legs and drying his eyes. He needed to be better than this if he wanted to help Anxiety, help Logan and Roman, help Thomas. 

He took a few deep breaths, focusing. Right now, he needed to not be upset. He had to be calm. Self-assured. Happy. Perfect. He had to focus. He HAD TO.

… 

Alone in his room, desperate to protect those he loved from an imaginary threat, something in Patton shifted.

[itsthesinbin]

Anpiel

I own the “unnamed” character that’s speaking/thinking about the focus of the ficlet. His name is Mol’Gomach, a fallen angel/demon.

@beansapalooza owns the main focus of the ficlet, an Angel (now fallen) named Anpiel.

These ocs..... there’s something about these ocs that REALLY drew me in. Mol’Gomach was one of the Angels that aided Lucifer before ultimately Falling. Anpiel was his mate, but was captured before they could fall with him. Their memories were repressed (multiple times over the course of their life), before finally being broken free by Mol’Gomach and his servant-turned-best friend Trel’Gech.

This isn’t exactly poetry (unless it IS and i just dont know poetry SDJKDSKJD), but I wanted to try a more poetic way of writing. You’re gonna be reading that name a LOT btw. You can always just skip the last word of each paragraph if you don’t wanna keep seeing it DSKJDSKJDS.

                                ---------------------------------------------------

It’s been so long since he Fell. Since he had to leave you behind, Anpiel.

Been so long since he’s seen you, since he held you in his arms. Since he was torn from you, Anpiel.

It wasn’t long since he cried. Since he mourned for what he’s lost. Since he locked himself away from the thought of you, Anpiel.

It was a shock when you were found. All smiles and confusion and wonder. Nearly just as he had left you, Anpiel.

Yet, you don’t remember him. Everything was taken from him, as everything was taken from you, Anpiel.

You were in there. He could see it in the way you regarded him. The way you carried yourself. The way you weren’t destroyed by their teachings. He wished he could hold you once more, Anpiel.

He could see it, the cracks in your torture. Your true self trying to shine through. If only you could remember, Anpiel.

He felt fury, as he watched you walk around like Newborn. Unable to speak, mind too broken from their constant resets. He held you as you cried when the recent turn was reversed. He knew you could be saved, Anpiel.

“God, please don’t make me go back,” you pleaded, his heart torn in half. The same thing you said when you tried to leave with him. He would rather die than leave you again, Anpiel.

The Angel appeared, demanding you be returned to her. He told you to run with his servant- his friend. He would rather die than you be torn from him again, Anpiel.

Blood loss leaving him breathless, he refused to leave your side again. Clutching you tightly with his three remaining arms, he took you to Beelzebub. He didn’t want you to hurt, but your Halo needed to be gone. Then you could be with him again, Anpiel.

Food was something you had always wanted, when you were going to Fall with him. You were so curious, eyes finally free from the Halo to see what you wanted to see, not what others wanted you to. He knew your eyes would be beautiful, Anpiel.

You approached him, terrified and shaking in the middle of the night. Memories returned, presented as nightmares. The battles, the Fall. Watching him and Lucifer being forced from you. He was so close. He hoped he knew how to help you, Anpiel.

A single kiss. That’s all he wanted. Even if it didn’t work, even if you were angry with him, he could be at ease. He couldn’t before you were taken, he could now. One last kiss to put a stop to his grief. Let him finally move on. He was so sorry, Anpiel.

You fell against him, eyes unfocused before ultimately closing. Too much at once, leaving you weak. He would know in the morning if you were too far gone, or if he could have you back. Leaving you in your room, he watched you for as long as he could. He would finally leave you to rest, and let himself grieve one last time, Anpiel.

You awoke the next day, eyes on fire and head nearly exploding. You found him over his desk, all twelve wings drooped and a sad coo in his throat. His name on your lips, voice cracked with tears, was a miracle to him. The way you held him, just like long ago, made his tears match yours, Anpiel.

One kiss was what he wanted, but you gave him many more. Small, fragile wings trying to wrap around his massive frame. The remnants of your Holy Light left a small sting on his skin, but he would suffer much worse to love you again, Anpiel.

He locked himself away to grieve, but you broke through the walls in mere seconds. He no longer needed to shy away from emotions, as he had all he needed in his arms. His fragile little angel, his sweet little sunbeam, just as you always had been, Anpiel.

It’s been so long since he held you. Since he could truly love you. Now, you could hold him back. Return his love once again. And he would tear apart Hell and Heaven themselves to keep you by his side, Anpiel.

[solarianradiance]

Heartsick: Loving Rage

https://skaianradiance.tumblr.com/post/174939512530/heartsick-quelling-nightmares

You are ROSE LALONDE

And you just finished your third therapy session with JOHN EGBERT, and things were pretty productive. 

EB: so is... that it then?

TT: That’s it, unless you have something else you feel like sharing. Which I encourage you do, since we are still here.

EB: nah, i was actually getting a lil sleepy, glad we can do something else now.

TT: Ok, then why dont you run along and play now, the big kid toys on the playground are open~

EB: ok i’ll-

EB: ...rose...>:B

TT: Sorry, you just seemed like an eager child waiting for recess, wanting to burn off his energy in a game of tag. A lil playfulness isnt going to hurt~

EB: right, well, your eagerness to reduce me to child-like context makes me think you might want kids, or could be an assertion to your unfulfilled childhood.

TT: Using my status as psychologist, and attempting to use it on me, can be interpreted as a sort of challenge, a display for primal ugres pertaining to the desire for dominance.

TT: Is this your way of saying that you want dominate me John?~♥

EB: what?! no! i want nothing of the sort! <:B

TT: Or perhaps you want me to dominate you?~

EB: ok, enough! this is weird enough as it is and i want no part of your weird kinky fantasies!

TT: Doesn't take a psychologist to know that you love it~

John absconds tfo, likely off to reevaluate his sense of company... or at least grab a bite to eat. Which might be a good idea for you to do yourself. You haven't eaten much of anything all day, and you are gonna need some energy to digest all of these notes.

Oh boy, what a choice of words to apply to your thoughts, you really are hungry!

Either way, you got a lot of things to go through, today really was productive, so many notes to go through!

Which is what you WOULD say, or think, if you werent a liar. There really isnt much more you have garnered that you don’t already know. The therapy sessions with John haven’t yielded much thus far, but these things tend to take time.

At least he is here with you and Kanaya. Speaking of whom, you feel like visiting her afterwords... specifically after your own snack.

You head out of your office, and into your kitchen. Its a spacious place, nice and wide, ready to make a feast if it needs to, especially a state dinner meant for discussing the worlds issues and the like. Rather dull affairs usually, even if they do tickle your “woman of power” side quite a bit. Being a Goddess has its weight of duty behind it, but it also has its perks~

You don’t worry about wealth or food, and you feel rather fulfilled acting as both a literal Queen and Goddess ruling a part of the world. Your Mother would be proud were she alive today... which she technically is, both alive and proud of you.

Speaking of whom, you informed her of the situation this morning, about John’s general condition and beckoned her return as soon as possible given that the situation is rather urgent, though not dire. However, you omitted the part about his incident in the bathroom. You don’t want to build up excessive stress in their minds and risk making them hysterical.

Kanaya had the duty informing Terezi of the situation as they know each other better than you do, being Troll lends an air of intrinsic understanding that you would not be innately imbued with, that much you have come to understand  studying the psychology of Trolls.

Anyways, you simply are here in the kitchen for a slice of pizza, you don’t know why, but you have been craving this pie of Italian cuisine for over a month now. Meat lovers in particular has caught your fancy, though you have been mixing things up with everything on it and veggie pizza’s.

You guess its that they remind you of home, you sort of miss those nights your Mother called in for a delivery when she didn’t cook anything for the evening... or did cook something, and it was an egregious disaster. Part of you thought she did it out of spite, but looking back, she simply enjoyed it as much as you did. In fact, you think it was one of those times when the two of you sort of put your supposed game of will’s aside and just enjoyed each others company, in your own ways.

Regardless, you have been on a pizza kick, and you need your fix for the night ahead, so you open the fridge

to find your leftover are missing and now assumed eaten by an entity other than yourself!

... ... ...

TT: ...

TT: Whatever, didn’t need it anyways.

Need is the correct term, but you really did want it. You guess John must have eaten the last of it. Oh well, its not the end of the world again, you can always just order another one, you get them basically for free. Then again, you don’t want to go through the hassle, you’re not that up for pizza again now that you think about it. Annoyed from hunger pains, you instead choose to go a much more healthy rout of crafting yourself a rather tasty salmon sandwich, with a side of cheese and a glass of grape juice.

You WOULD have some wine, but you need your wits about you for the upcoming trial in mediating this interaction between John and his romantic partners. Both have been gone from his life for a long period of time, months in fact. Breaking the news to them of their lover’s emotional decay into self-harm and outright suicide is going to be a dance of caution to say the least. You really don’t want them to turn into hysterical broads over this, like you think they might. They might just blame themselves, which is an overtly strong possibility.

You finish your meal, not as fulfilling as pizza, it lacks that mild-mannered bread crust which you dig all kinds of hella on, but salmon has its own sweet charm~

As you were consuming your middle-class gourmet, you went over your notes during your sessions with John and things are... odd. There is certainly depression going on. Deep depression, yet nothing that would compel suicide. He is sad, very sad in fact, but not outright miserable, at least from what you can glean from so far.

At least he is in your care, you wouldn’t be much of a friend had you merely left him there alone in his house... sort of like what you did over the last few years. You literally had no idea he had gotten that bad, or else you would have intervened earlier. But then again, Roxy and Terezi might not have had any idea, as John was hiding his emotions and repressing them. Seems like they’re finally coming out due to isolation in the form of deep depression. You really can’t let him be alone again anymore, or else you might get a repeat of the bathroom incident.

You feel a reasonable compulsion to share this information with your wife, Kanaya. You clean up your mess in the kitchen and go looking for her. Which isn’t a very long search, as you find her in the living on a terminal. She seems to be playing a video game of some kind

GA: NO! I Dodged It’s Grabbing Lunge And Got Away, How In The Blazing Hell Did That Fat Fucking Bastard Catch Me?!!

She seems to be having a bad time.

TT: You seem to be having a good time.

GA: I Am Having An Absolutely Lively Celebration...

TT: Do you have a minute?

GA: I Do Now. I Need A Break Anyways, For This Game Has Ben Crush My Patience For Several Half-Hours Now.

TT: What were you playing? An RPG Action game?

GA: A Gaming Title That John Discovered Recently.  Supposed To Be Considered Quite The Quality Recreational Engagement From What I Understand.

TT: Seems like a lot of fun.

GA: It Is! I Am Rather Enjoying Myself.

TT: I was... being sarcastic?

GA: And I Was Being Sincere.

TT: It sounded like you were hating it with a true passion.

GA: I Was... But In A Sort Of ♠Caliginous Manner♠. I Don’t Know What It Is, But This Game’s Brutality Is Rewarding When You Overcome It’s Challenges~♠

GA: This Thing Sincerely Hates Me, But It Wants Me To Win, And So I Hate It In Return For That~♠

TT: Uh-huh... anyways, I wanted to talk to you about our guests that are going to arrive shortly

GA: Terezi And Roxy? In Relation To Johnathan I Assume.

TT: Yes, more specifically on how we are going to break the news to them directly. I am not sure as to what method we should use.

GA: Perhaps Isolating Them Would Help Us Engage In The Relaying Of Our Honestly Dour Predicament?

TT: Maybe, but as I said, I am not certain, this whole situation is tricky to even talk about with John.

GA: Well, We Don’t Have The Time To Dally On It All Evening, They As Our Guests Will Be Arriving Within The Hour.

TT: I actually expected both of them to be here sooner, I suppose they had to take care of something before coming.

GA: But More To Your Point, Maybe It’s Better If We Just Told Them Both Up Front At Once  And Get It Out Of The Way.

TT: Both at once? Why? That just seems like a way to escalate the situation to an all time high, wouldnt it be better to just be more subtle and work up to it?

GA: If We Did That We Might Make Things Worse, Especially With Terezi, Who Has A Habit Of Figuring Things Out, Being A Seeress Of Mind And All.

TT: How do you think Terezi will react? I can fathom what Roxy might do, probably become distraught over news of John’s self-harm, but Terezi I don’t think I can predict given how wild she is.

GA: She... Might Be Calm And Collected About It, OR She Might Become Overly Furious Over Him Committing Such An Act.

GA: Which Is To Say That I Am Not Sure Either As To How Terezi Will React Either. I Am A Bit Worried How This Is Going To Transpire.

TT: A stern possiblity is that th-*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

TT: Sounds like our guests ar-*KR4SH*

TT: !!!

GA: !!!

TT: I do believe that our guests are indeed here... glad one of them could give us an adequate amount of time to prepare for their entry

*Terezi and Roxy enter the room, proving the Seer of Light correct in her assumption of their arrival. They dont appear overly happy at the moment.*

CG: G33T1NGS OTH3R L4LOND3. N1C3 TO SM3LL YOU 4G41N K4N4Y4!

GA: Good To “See“ You As Well, Terezi. I Hope Your Trip Was Fruitful.

CG: 1T W4SNT, 4S 1 4M ST1LL CURR3NTLY SHORT OF 4 VR1SK4...

TG: hey rosie, how you doin?

TT: Hello Roxy, I am doing fi-

CG: WH3R3S JOHN?

TT: That was brief. What? You don’t want to relax and catch up for few minutes?

CG: YOU C4LL3D M3 4W4Y FROM MY S34RCH FOR MY SCOURG3 S1ST3R, NOW 1 W4NT TO KNOW WHY. 1 4M 4SSUM1NG 1TS SOM3TH1NG S1GN1F1C4NTLY 1MPORT4NT, 4S YOU H4V3 R1SK3D MY WR4TH. 1 WOULD R4TH3R SK1P TH3 PL34S3NTR13S 4ND G3T TO TH3 PO1NT 1F YOU DONT M1ND.

TT: He’s...

TT: Actually I am not sure what he is up to at the moment.

GA: He Is Currently In His Respite Block I Believe.

CG: WH1CH R41S3S TH3 QU3ST1ON 4S TO WHY H3 1S H3R3 TO B3G1NG W1TH.

TG: ye, y isnt he at his house? you made it snd like smt srs happended

GA: As You Were Informed, Johnathan Is The Subject Of Strenuous Circumstances And Has Come Under Our Watchful Care.

TG: wat kind of issues we talkin here? like hes got a broken leg or pranked the wrong asshole and now we got a polkal debecle again, or wats the story here? TG: *political debacle

TT: No, it’s more like something along the lines of personal care. He... well, in your’s and Terezi’s absence he seemed to have become reclusive and appeared to have gotten depressed and he might have engaged in some harmful behavior.

TG: wat? laik he tried to hang himself or smthing?

TT: Um.... oh boy...ok so, “Tried” isn’t the word I would use... buuut...

TG: ...w-wait, wat the fuck r u saing rose? did he actually try to kill himself or smthing?

GA: Should We Just Tell Them?

TG: tell us what?

CG: TH4T SOM3TH1NG R34LLY B4D H4PP3N3D TO JOHN. 1F YOUR3 B31NG TH1S DODG3Y, TH4T WOULD 1MPLY TH4T 1T W4S OF TH3 D1R3 V4R13TY 4ND W3 M1GHT P4N1C, SO STOP ST4LL1NG 4ND T3LL US WH4T H4PP3ND3D!

GA: Rose, I Acknowledge That You Already Had A Plan In Place To Prepare Them But Should We Simply Tell Them Now? It Seems They Made A Number Of Assumptions They, And Are Making Things Worse.

TT: Im literally trying to tell them. But im trying to do it in a way that wont make them hysterical!

TG: tell us wat?! nuff of the third degre and tell us whats goin on with john! hes ok right?!

TT: Yes, at this moment he is fine. You shouldnt be so worried right now.

CG: BUT H3 W4SNT F1N3, OR 3LS3 YOU WOULDNT H4V3 US3D THOS3 WORDS 1N ORD3R TO D3SCR1B3 H1S CURR3NT COND1T1ON 1N R3L4T1ON TO WH3N YOU OR1G1N4LLY FOUND H1M

GA: Rose I... Think They Have A Strong Idea Of What Happended, I Do Not Think There Is Much To Be Gained In Dragging This Out.

TT: *sigh* Very well then... a week ago, we were getting worried about John and his condition as he was becoming withdrawn and his behavior was particularly odd. He wasn’t really as energetic or as lively as he once was and Kanaya and I began to notice. He wasn’t answering any of my calls or messages for a long while, so Kanaya was sent to his home to investigate if he was well... turned out he... wasnt

TG: ...and? what was wrong?

TT: Um... we arent entire sure what caused it, or if John was aware of what he did to himself. God this is harder to break than I thought.

GC: W41T... YOUR3 S4Y1NG TH4T H3 4CTU4LLY... TR13D TO OFF H1MS3LF?!

TT: ...Apparently, yes... Kanaya found him in his bathtub.

TG: back the fuck up, what do you mean by that exactly?!

GA: I Found Him In His Bathtub... There...There Was Blood Everywhere And He Was... Not Moving... I Was Afraid He Was Gon And... I Kissed Him In An Attempt To Revive Him-

TG: but you said he was alive right?! hes ok right now?!

TT: Yes, as stated, he is currently all right. Its as though it never happened. Kanaya Revived Him.

TG: so hes ok then, right now i mean?

TT: Yes, he’s fit as a fiddle. As I said, its like it never happended.

TG: ok good, terezi, they said he was in his room in this apartment, didnt they?

CG: Y34H TH3Y D1D, WH1CH M34NS H3S SOM3WH3R3 1N H3R3

TG: thanks rezi *does the rouge of voidy thing and vanishes tfo*

GA: Um... What Did Roxy Intend With That Stipulation Prior To Her Visual Diminishing?

GA: Then Why Did She Engage Her Voidy Powers?

=======

Elsewhere in the apartment, a very hysterical broad slowly opens the door to her boyfriends bedroom, and finds him watching a video with a pair of earphones, meaning the door opening went unheard. He seems rather into it, not sure why, but either way provides the broad with an opportunity to do this to the bum that she calls boyfriend.

*PILLOW SMACK*

EB: AH WHAT THE FUCK?!  *windy thing*

EB: holy shit what was that?!

TG: me, thats what *un-voidy thing appearify*

EB: oh, its just you... what the hell is- *PILLOW BOPPED*

EB: ow! what the motherfucking shit roxy?!

TG: im motherfucking mad as hell at u right now, thats the motherfucking shit, john!

EB: well, hello again to you too i guess, why the fuck are you mad exactly?

TG: u kno exactly why im mad u dum adorable bastard, u cant fool me!

EB: oh... u saw it then?

TG: no! i wasnt there and shit, i just learned about it! i would have been here sooner if i knew what you did to yourself!!!

EB: ...wait, what are you talking about?

TG: u killing urself and kanaya finding you dead in the bathtub, wat the ever living shit do u think i was talking about?!

EB: ooooh, hehehe, thought you were mad about something else.

TG: wha-...what in the hell r u doin laffin about this? this is srs! REALLY serious! Seriously, why in loving fuck are you so chipper about this shit?!

EB: well its kind of hard to explain but-

*Rose, Kanaya and Terezi Appear*

TT: May I ask what you two are doing that is doing me a significant concern?

GA: I Second This Query, What Are You Doing?

EB: hey rose, kanaya...

EB: t3r3z1...

GC: JOHN...

TT: Roxy, answer me, what were you doing running off like that?

TG: to see john, duh!

TT: And why was there a commotion that was making a stir the ocean?

EG: hah!

TG: dude, srsly, i am so srs right now, y r u laughing?

EB: cuz it was funny?

TG: how could u be lafing about this shit?

EB: like i said it was funny! or at least i thought it was funny, so why wouldnt i laugh?

TG: because u killed yourself, or tried to! this isnt something u should be laughing about!

GC: 1 AGR33 W1TH 1NFORM4L L4LOND3, TH1S S1TUT4T1ON 1S NO L4UGH1NG M4TT3R. DO YOU M1ND T3LL1NG US YOUR S1D3 OF TH3 STORY FOR TH3 S4K3 OF POST3R1TY?

TG: yeah, tell us y u did it john! from your mouth, i wanna hear what u have 2 say bout wat happened.

EB: um... ok, theres really not much to say. where do you want me to start? 

GC: HOW 4BOUT TO TH3 PO1NT? D1D YOU DO 1T JOHN 3GB3RT? D1D YOU 4CTU4LLY TRY TO K1LL YOURS3LF?

EB: i don’t i did?

TG: da fuks that supposed to mean? u either did it or u didnt! now which is it?!

EB: i guess i did it in my sleep then? i dont really remember how it happended if im being honest, i just sort of went to sleep one night and i woke up in the bathtub with kanaya...

GC: TH4TS 4LL YOU R3M3MB3R?

EB: thats all i remember!

GC: ...

GC: BULLSH1T! YOU H4V3 TO B3 OM1TT1NG SOM3TH1NG! NOW STOP PR3T3ND1NG TO B3 4 CR1M1N4L W1TH SOM3TH1NG TO H1D3 4ND T3LL US WH4T YOUR3 H1D1NG!

TT: Oh God, Terezi, no! Stop this line of questioning immediately! Its not good for him to be invoking emotions he doesn't feel comfortable invoking on his own!

EB: ok, this is getting a little bit uncom-

TG: would u knock it the fuck off rose? were tryin to get a grasp of the situation, we got a right to know whats going on!

EB: can you guys ju-

TT: Thats not your call to make, you aren’t his therapist, I am!

GC: L3G4LLY OR AR3 YOU JUST S4Y1NG TH4T TO L3ND YOURS3LF 4N 41R OF 4UTHORITY?

TT: Yes, legally! I’ve been having therapeutic sessions with him and helping him adjust enough to get comfortable and you two have been undoing all of that progress with your incessant questioning like an unexpected inquisition!

TG: well we didn expect him to offhimself while we were gon n shit rosie, wegot a right to know y he did it and all that jazz so we can help him!

EB: guys, seri-

TT: Yes you do have a right, but you need to wait until John is ready, any sooner and you might make him more withdrawn. That’s why we didn’t have John with us so that we could minimize stress!

GC: W3LL TH1S WHOL3 SH1TTY S1TU4T1ON 1S STR3SS1NG M3 TH3 H3LL OUT! 1 D1DNT W4NT TO COM3 JUST TO F1ND OUT MY K1SM3S1S 1S ON TH3 BR1NK OF T4K1NG H1MS3LF OUT! HOW DO YOU TH1NK W3 F33L 4BOUT TH1S?!

TT: Its not about you, Terezi, its about helping John, and your current behavior isnt helping anything at all, including your stress!

EB: guys im willing to help, it’s jus-

TG: doesn't help when we don’t know what happened to john. laik, did he do it or did he not do it?!

TT: That’s what we are trying ti figure out, Roxy, it’s just that this is going to take time, and we need to give him space so he can get adjusted and emotionally heal, and you two are making that quite difficult to do in the first place!

TG: bullshit! ur tellin me u had all week to figure out what the fuck went down and u still have-

GA: Would You Collection Of Inconsiderate Buffoons

GA: ♣SHUT THE EVER LOVING FUCK UP!!!♣

TT: <:X

TG:<:P TG:*<:O

CG: !!! >:O

EB: <:B

GA: ♣THE SINCERITY THAT IS MY PERSONAL DISBELIEF AT THE WITNESSING OF YOUR APPALLING MISTREATMENT OF YOUR QUADRANT-MATE IS MAKING ME ABSOLUTELY GOD DAMN FUCKING LIVID!!! NO WONDER HE TRIED TO HOMICIDE HIMSELF, HE HAS YOU TWO TO MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE LIFE ISNT WORTH LIVING TO BEGIN WITH!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU INCONCEIVABLY VEXING FUCKWIT CUNTS?!♣(♠?)

GC: 4LL R1GHT NOW SM3LL H3R3 M1SSY FUSSY F4NGS! 1 W1LL-

GA: NO! Shut! Up! Cease Your Bitching This Instant And Remain Silent Before I Literally Smack Your Shit Out Of My Hive!!!

GC: ...ok  <:T

GA: You Two... You Two Are Supposed To Be His Quadrant-Mates... And Upon Learning Of His Predicament, This Is How You Treat Him? By Interrogating Him Endlessly Like He Did Something Wrong?! You Have Done Nothing But Not Even So Much As Asked Him How He Felt! You Should Be Consoling Him, Not Berating Him Like You Are Doing Now!

TG: i dont have to take this, wat do u think we’re doin? we’re tryin to help him and we’re-

TT: Actually, it seems like you two are trying to get to the bottom of things on your own terms, but from what I can tell, you two are merely panicking about it.

TG: ...

GC: ...

TG: ok... maybe we did panic a lil, and...

TG: shit i didnt this through at all did i?

EB: can i say something?

TT: Of course you may John. This situation IS literally about you.

EB: yeah, i... roxy, terezi, i don’t know what happened to me, but im being honest, i really dont know how i ended up in the tub. and since i guess you two care alot about me, you were upset over me not being open with you or something?

TT: John, its not your faul-

EB: hey! can i finish!?

TT: ...Just remember that its not your fault...go on.

EB: thanks rose. anyways... whatever is making you angry about this... its ok i think. we can just talk it out, right? 

GC: ...Y34H, W3 C4N B3 R4T1ON4L 4BOUT TH1S.

TG: i just wanna kno y u didnt tell us about how you were feelin. like were u sad or some shit?

TT: AH! We can discuss all of this later, together, in a more formal setting. Otherwise, let’s just focus on relaxing. I think we should just this all emotional turmoil for when we are ready.

TG: ok! but just let me ask one serious question.

TT: If John wants to answer, then go ahead.

EB: sure rox, only under the condition u tell me y u panicked so hard that u snuck up on me to hit me with a pillow.

TG: i was... mad. thats y i rogued u.

EB: about what exactly?

TG: alot of things. things like, when i asked u to come wtih me an calliope on our tour and u said no. made me think u were mad or sad or something when rose told me bout ur... tub-nap, like i did it or something.

EB: oh... i said no because i thought you and calli wanted some space, thats all.

TG: dude! if we wanted space we would have let u know up front! i dont play that shit! i asked u to cum because we both wanted u to cum!

GC: H3H3H3H3H3H3333

TG: y u laffin?

GC: OH JUST SOM3TH1NG FUNNY 1 THOUGHT 4BOUT

TG: whateves, rez. look, john, im sorry if i made you feel bad at any point over the last few yeras, but i need u to talk to me about this sort of thing, ok? im also sorry about boppin u with a pillow, that was a dick move on my part. TG:*years

EB: its roxy, dont worry about it! you were just having a panic attack-

TG: no its not, u scared the fuck outta me, and i really... REALLY dont wanna lose u! espeically not like that! i ju-

TT: I think thats enough for now. We can have a therapy session sometimes next week. For now lets just calm down and try to have a good time together, ok?

GC: HMMMM

GA: Is There Something You Wish To Add Terezi?

GC: MMMMM, NOT H3R3. JOHN, YOU 4ND 1 W1LL T4LK L4T3R

EB: oh great, alone with the swamp monster that licks everything and rarely brushes, fan freaking tastic.

GC: W3 W1LL SP34K 4S M4T3S, 4ND NOT 4S R1V4LS, YOU D1TZ.

EB: ...... uh...

TT: Ok! We are done in here. We shouldn’t even be having this honestly rather awkward conversation in John’s bedroom of all places.

TT: Why don’t we all go downstairs and watch a movie, or play a videogame or something. I’ll order us a pizza for dinner!

GA: No.

TT: ...Kanaya, we talked about this. You can’t stop me from ordering pizza, even if you wanted to. Besides we have guests, so one more night of Italian gourmet isn’t going to kill any of us.

GA: That Is Not What I Meant, But If You Wish To Get Fat, Be Guest Rose, For I Shall Love You All The Same.

TG: pfff-fff-fft, rood~

GC: H3H3H3H3333

TT: In that case, what do you mean by “No” then?

GA: No. As In, No, We Shall Not Be Engaging In Familial Bonding. Not With Me And Not With Johnathan.

EB: really? how come?

GA: Because You And I Are Going Out Together.

EB: you mean like a date?

GA: ♣An Ashen One, Yes♣

EB: those are a thing?

GA: Yes, They Are.

GC: NOT W1THOUT 4LL THR33 P4T1C1P4NTS TH3YR3 NOT!

GA: Yes, They Are, Terezi. Especially If The Auspice Feels The Need To Punish One Member.

EB:.... uuuuuuuhh, why are we going out together?

GA: Because I Don’t Think That After This Little Fiasco Of Theirs In Reacting To News Of Your Apparent Suicide, It Would Be Wise To Avoid Rewarding Them For Such Behavior. That And In Light Of What Has Transpired, I Do Not Feel Very Comfortable Without Knowing You Are All Right On My Terms.

TG: hang, u cant just make a desicion like that, i wanna spend time with john for a while! i didnt end my vacation just to let him flounder like a depressed fish by hijmself! i came here to help fix him!

GA: That Is Not What I Saw.

TG: well, john doesent haf to go if he doesent want to, so there.

EB: ...well...

TT: It... actually would be a nice way of resetting the mood. Getting a fresh start all that. And it could give us to catch up together, Roxy! I can fill you in better and what we can do.

GC: 1T WOULD M4K3 OUR PR3D1C4M3NT R4TH3R L3SS...3MB4R4SS1NG TH4N WH4T 1T 1S. YOU D1D K1ND OF P4N1C TH3R3 4 B1T, ROX.

EB: ... i guess that is kind of a good idea. i wont if you dont want me to though cuz i really don’t want to upset you again as well as placate Kanaya and stuff along with other shenanigans maybe.

TG: ... ur fukin luky that ur kewt... fine, u go out an have a good time or somthin we’ll stay here and wait 4 u 2 come home.

EB: great, i’ll c u latr gatr!

TG: 1 more thing *mmmwah*... im sorry again... i shoulndt have been a bitch in rage or wateves~♥

EB: heh... not problem rox <:d EB:*<:D

GC: *L1CKS*

EB: AH-GOD DAMMIT TEREZI YOU FUCKING GOBLIN CRETIN!

GC: YOUR3 ST11L MY N3RD, SO DONT FORG3T TH4T... S33 YA L4T3R DUMMY~♠

GA: Very Well Then, Now That You Group Of Flighty Broads Have Been Calmed, We Can Be On Our Way. Come Along Johnathan.

EB: all righty then, cya roxy! later rose! good to c u dumbass!

*John and Kanaya Absconds*

[tamisdava-blog]

Me and my sis playing lobotomy corporation

Me: Sis, please make my wish :3

sis: oh god what now?

*after hours of persuasion*

Me: finally!

Sis: FML

*game starts*

Me: so lets start with basics! *explains everything about abnormalities, the skull guy(dont force me to write their full names please) act and TRALALALA!

Sis: fuck this shit! *runs away after first day in game*

Me: COME BACK HERE NYAAAAAAAH! *chasing*

*after a week of chasing my sister*

Me: lets start again :3

sis: FML again.

*this time i somehow holded her so she wasn't able to run this time!*

me: choose our new abnormally monster!

sis: this cant get any worse right? *chooses grandma*

*i already had grandma before i started playing this game so its was easy*

me: nu how? :3

sis: the game is getting more interesting.

me: LETS CHOOSE! >:3

Sis: *chooses meat lantern*

me: o i didn't had this in my first walkthrought!

Sis: OMG this one is so cute :3

me: yep :3

*after of our first meeting with meat lantern*

Me: WTF?! IT RAN AWAY?!

sis: whata you said?

Me: SEARCH IT!

SIS: WHEREEEE?!

Me: SHOW THE BASE!

Sis:...

*Meat Lantern comes out and eats someone*

Me and my sis: O_O ... *dead silence*

Sis: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! I THOUGHT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE!

ME: I SAID THAT I DIDN'T MET IT! WHY YOU CHOSE IT?! PANICKING! PANICKING!

*after we learned about it more and we with miracle completed the day*

ME: oh so its only needed temperence lvl 1...

Sis: choosing new one! *chooses theresia*

*the next day in game*

Me: so... oh you chose Theresia :D

Sis: let me guess you already had this one and it was good?

Me: yep

*next day opening information team!*

Sis: sis i chose a butterfly!

me: *looks* O_O *sights* thanks to god its not butterfly, its just a fat fairy.

Sis: oki doki!

*choosing the burning girl!*

Sis: oh its new right?

me: lets not touch her.

Sis: But-

me: I SAID NOPE!

*because of problems we weren't able to complete this day fast and we were stuck there for a long time*

Me: HOLY SHIT! WE ARE DOOMED!

Sis: what?

Me: *turns her head* THE BURNING GIRL! SHE RAN AWAY! WE ARE SO DOOMED! SHE IS GOING TO BOOM AND KILL EVERYONE THERE!

Sis: AAAAAAH WHAT SHOULD WE DO!

ME: MOVE THEM! MOVE THEM IN OTHER ROOM!

SIS: OH *%# IT ISN'T WORKING!

ME: FUUUUUUUUCKAA!

*the burning girl boomed*

Me and sis: O_O

Me: wait they are alive?

Sis: HOly i dont know what to say here! THEY ARE ALIVE!

*happy music and hugging with tears*

After that day in game*

Sis: *chooses the naked woman*

Me: *oh crap i dont remember what we should do with her* *i played demo but i dont remember .-_-.*

Me: lets test her instincts!

*and after because of other reason we weren't able to complete the day fast*

Sis: *SCREAMS* OH MY CRAP! WHAT THE HECK WAS THIS .O_O.

Me: oh i remembered. SHE DID IT! *points on naked woman with a evil voice* because we weren't visiting her fo a long time she decided to scare us :D

Sis: you couldn't warned me?!

Me: nah :D

*after that day in game*

Sis: AAH MY EYES! I AM ALREADY TIRED!

ME: Me too :) *cant close eyes*

Sis: *chooses book that is made from skin*

Sis: lets check it?

Me: nope

*opening training team!*

Sis: *chooses butterfly face*

ME: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! D: FUCK YoU!

Sis: you are saying it to me?

Me: TO BOTH OF YOU! You know why he holds coffin?

Sis: em no?

Me: oh i'll tell you why! FOR THE START HE WILL RUN AWAY AND HE WILL KILLS EVERYONE AND HE WILL PUT US IN THAT COFFIN!

Sis: met him?

Me: YES AND BECAUSE OF HIM I LOST GAME D::( WHY THE HECK YOU DIDN'T ASKED ME BEFORE CHOOSING THIS MOTH THAT CRAPS IN THAT COFFIN!

Sis: wait does he really do it? :)

Me: NEIN! AND STOP PISSING ME FOR FUN!

*after our first meeting with him*

Me: FML he just ran out.

Sis: what should we do?

Me: send our people to die, we'll lose anyway -_-

Sis: why the heck you are so heartless?!

Me: in real life i amn't heartless and you in real life aren't so emotional.

sis: but we are sending them to death!

ME: Oh wait i am a bad cop and you are good cop! And btw that butterfly face is death himself belive me, i experienced that.

Sis: oh Holy cheese burger without meat, Meat lantern ran out!

ME: we are sooo craped!

*meat lantern eats someone*

Me: OMG TAK DO YOU SEE IT?!

Sis: ???

Me: that stupid moth is going to Meat Lantern.

ME and sis: HAHAHAHAA *evil laught* we are going to see the battle of titans!

*the butterfly attacks Lanter from far*

ME: ok lantern is doomed how i see

Sis: COME ON COMECOKEMCOEMCOEMC ON@!

*the stupid butterfly goes to Meaty*

Me and sis: OH SHITOHSHITOHSHIT! MEAT LANTERN WON! OUR SAVIOR! .^_^.

sis: oh shit there is only Yuri left.

Yuri: .o-o. *the only poor worker left alive*

Me: faster lets collect energy before that stupid thing that is butterfly or moth with coffin ran away again.

*didn't make it in time and that stupid thingo with coffin ran away and with him ran away Meat lantern*

ME: LMAO our savior knows when he needs to help us >:D

Sis: he is truly our savior >:>D

*and meaty won this time too*

Me and sis: WE WON!

Yuri: Fuck those stupid girls .o~o.

*continuing*

*after this day bootyfly ran away again*

Sis: W.H.A.T W.E S.H.O.U.L.D D.O?

Me: we should force Meaty to run away. What he dislikes more?

Sis: ... Repression.

me: lets do it!

*after of several times doing so*

Sis: why the heck it isn't running away?!

Me: IDK D:

Sis: lets do something else with him!

ME: NOOOO! He dislikes this REPRESSION!

Sis: i promise if we'll lose i wont start playing this game again!

Me: like you would have a choice. You remember that i am having birthday in march? =)

Sis: FML >:>

Yuri: please butterfly with the dam coffin come and kill me! because of them died my friends! i want to be with them!

Butterfly: Nu if you are asking me, i'll try to come =)

Yuri: NO NO! come now! I cant take it anymore!

ME: oh fuckin dam miracle Meaty finally broke free!

Sis: finally.

*meaty eats Yuri*

me and sis: O_O'

Butterfly: you %^## i wanted to kill him! >=(

Meaty: *turns* you can fight me and take him from my belly if you wont lose again you stupid moth in a costume!

Angela: Managers, you lose the day, you should start this day over.

Me and sis: ok lets watch the battle of titans 2 and we'll go to sleep

Angela: but-

Me and sis: shhhhhhhh

Angela: *sight* what a stupid kids. *disappears*

Sis: *closes game*

Me: whatcha think?

Sis: i thought Meaty was on our side!

Me: tak-tak we repressioned it, you know that its bad right? you would like it on his place?

Sis: But it was Yuri we just were commanding-

Yuri's ghost: *shows middle fingers*

Sis: wait, justice was executed, Yuri repressioned meaty and he was eaten, we were commanding him and many died because of us so we lost the game.

Yuri: fuck you *goes in heaven*

Me: karma, now i feel bad. Meaty was the one who saved us, and with what we paid him? We just repressioned him till he ate Yuri.

Sis: geez i didn't thought that the game would be so hard.

*after the week*

ME: *opens game* *restarts game*

Angela: *sits on chair with a turned back* *turns* Oh so you came back... without your big sister, i see...

To be continued?

Lobotomy corporation is really a great game. In my opinion it deserves more fans and respect, its still a demo but its great and now it has a plot.

[sootonthecarpet]

if it's not too much trouble to answer, can I ask what's been the going on with doctor who that's bad? I've seen little bits of it when my parents watch it in the other room but not enough to really get a good sense of it?

heyyy sorry to keep ya waiting on this. i tried to keep this as short as i could, but it’s about five paragraphs long, sorry. it’s not in any way a comprehensive list of problems with the last few seasons, just a quick tour of the moments i shouldve let be my ‘i can’t keep watching after this’ point. i wanted to write it objectively but i got pretty aggro, bc this show that in some part i genuinely adore has been producing unforgivably bigoted content. (it’s kinda a ship of theseus situation, except where the parts of the ship were replaced with worse, shittier, fake-woke parts.) i ask ppl to avoid reblogging this, because i don’t want my words to contribute in any way to online buzz surrounding this show or make anyone want to see it, even if ONLY to hatewatch or criticize.

content warning for misogynoir/antiblackness, racism, bury ur gays, some shit with nazi germany (yeah lol) and just the slightest kiss of antisemitism.

(edit: i seem to be having some problems with the read more cut. it’s there on dash view and when i edit the post, but doesn’t show on some instances of my blog. i can’t fix this but gksfkgls. wanted to at least be overt that i wouldn’t post this kinda long ranty stuff without a cut.)

in the last season where peter capaldi was the doctor, two seasons ago now, he had a new companion, Bill. she was a black lesbian and literally the only reason i started watching doctor who again. i loved her, and i was really glad to see the show moving back towards the more diverse cast of characters that we saw in the late aughts. then the season had a repeated theme of FORCING her to either repress or not feel her emotions. there are two scenes that stand out most to me. in an ep set in like, early 19th century london, she and the doctor are talking to a racist rich white dude who is being super nasty to Bill. the doctor keeps telling her to cool it and not show how angry she is. then HE gets to punch the guy out and knock him to the floor.

this theme of the white man being the only one allowed to get angry was big all season, iirc. then at the end of the season, Bill is turned into a cyberman. they’re usually like. soulless scary automatons, but some characters keep their individuality, which has been explored in a few past seasons, usually leading up to a tragic/heroic death. in Bill’s case, they did this trick with filming where we could see her perspective of herself in some shots–an intensely emotional performance, Bill was completely traumatized and her actress was working her ass off–and in others, just this metal body incapable of expression, scaring people like she was a monster and monotoning these otherwise very emotional statements. it’s an interesting narrative device, but after a whole season of this show putting Bill through all kinds of terrible shit and forcing her not to show her feelings on the matter, it hit me as like. this nauseating exaggeration of how society treats actual black lesbians as monsters and tries to make them bottle up their emotions and especially their justifiable anger. anyway, then Bill died and got to be with her dead girlfriend from her first episode. wow, cool.

idk what made me watch the season after that. i guess i wanted to see the new doctor, and i liked her companions (one was like. a young man with disabling neurological symptoms, tbh even if i’d missed Bill’s season that might have had me back on board). i had plenty of problems with how the season played out, obvs, but nothing was standout horrible to me the way the shit with Bill had been (except maybe the episode that started out like ‘space amazon is a hellhole’ and somehow ended with ‘space amazon was taken advantage of by a broken AI that hurt some people and they didnt fix the infrastructure we explicitly showed harmed their workers but now it’s fine!’ if that sounds weird and heavy handed with an unsatisfying ending, it’s because it was). the new season tho? the OPENING EPISODES OF THE NEW SEASON, THO? it opens with alexa product placement, in an episode about how a fictionalized google was actually run by a black man who had ties to a large number of aliens who had secretly infiltrated our society, altered our dna, and shit like that. so uh, 1. brand war lmao, sellouts etc etc 2. y’all remember those conspiracy theories about jews? and white supremacist beliefs that black people are ruining the world but aren’t smart enough to do it on their own so they must be agents of jewish corruption? HUH. HUH! that’s not even my big problem with the fuckin thing, but it’s FOR SURE a suspicious writing move from a tv show with suuuuch a huge viewership. (and it’s just plain embarrassing for a show with alexa product placement to try to go all scary panopticon tropes specifically @ a google analogue.)

anyway, we run into an old recurring antagonist, the master, a time lord like the doctor. he’s a guy again after having been a woman for a few seasons, and now played by an actor of color. i figure the reasoning at least partly relied on “dude, how fucked up will it be if we force the doctor’s black friend to call a white dude master” but i was immediately afraid it might go to the like…. Righteous White Woman Gets The Better Of Evil Brown Man tropes and oh boy!!!! i tried to be good and give it the benefit of the doubt until i saw something racist but it wasted no time. the doctor got stuck in the past at one point, and met the master, who was currently a military official with the third reich. oh boy. so she asks him why they let him work with them and he explains he’s using a device to psychically disguise himself, they see him as white. (we missed a great chance for him to monologue about how they were willing to bend their morals when they saw how evil he could get or something.) this was awkward enough for me as a viewer, but i wasn’t prepared to go into it, in case there was some tiny shred of nuance somewhere that would make this situation anything but a clusterfuck.

well, the doctor executes a genuinely clever scheme and makes a radio transmission to the brits that she knows won’t reach em, talking about how helpful this officer has been–setting up the master to be falsely outed as a double agent when the nazis intercept it. she tells the master this and then skedaddles, letting him be arrested by his own men. could be a satisfying karmic victory where he presumably gets a military trial and weasels out of his fate, although i don’t like the implications of a white woman punishing a brown man for racism. BUT IT DIDN’T STOP THERE! she disables his psychic filter, causing his men to see his true identity as a man of color–she exposes her oldest frenemy and Basically The Only Time Lord Who’ll Talk To Her to nazi racism when he was ALREADY about to fall into their hands as a prisoner. what could have been a marginally satisfying defeat was instead a kind of emotional horrorshow for me as i had to stop and wonder what kind of hell they’d put him through and why the writers decided that the doctor (who has literally since the show began in like the sixties been set up as an enemy of naziism via allegory and has always been firm in the idea that NOBODY, including literal maneating space monsters, deserves to be treated as less than human) would DO that. IT’S LATER IMPLIED HE ESCAPED FROM A CONCENTRATION CAMP. the narrative DOES NOT allow time for that to sink in before moving on.

i dont have a conclusion 2 this. im just hurt as fuck about it. i hope i gave u the info u were looking for without getting too deep into my personal feelings, but it’s difficult, maybe impossible to be objective about stuff like this.