#idk if I should tag this because I don’t think this has enough meat to it for it to be interesting to other fans ahahaha

[white-weasel]

hello my dear mutual i cannot add it to the tournament now but what was the straightbait couple you would've submitted

Hello beloved mutual! It was Hardwon Surefoot and Moonshine Cybin aka HardShine from Not Another DND Podcast. They are some of the biggest straight bait I have ever seen. I technically haven’t finished the podcast yet (have 5 eps left) but, I know they don’t get together. However!!! There is SO much joking flirting between them and the chemistry is THERE. There are three things that stick out for me though. Two require a bit of context (so please pardon the rambling below lmao)

First, the one that doesn’t need much context, is just how the party’s relationship is structured. It’s Hardwon, Moonshine, and Beverly. Beverly is a 15/16 year old boyscout and pretty early on Moonshine and Hardwon step into parental roles for him as they travel. Not like full on mom and dad, but it’s *enough* and I’m not trying to enforce like a nuclear family view of found family at all (because that’s what they are) but idk just how they act as a tag team in keeping Bev’s goofs and antics under wraps really gets me

Next, there’s a part in the campaign where (due to dnd plane shifting and time dilation stuff) the party reunites with some old friends who have aged, like, 40 years since they last say them. These two have gotten married and have two kids. One is named Beverlin which is putting together the names of Beverly and his canonical boyfriend Erlin. The other is Moonwon, aka smashing together Hardwon and Moonshine (I fully believe this kid’s name would have been Hardshine aka their ship name if Beverly hadn’t already named his sword Hardshine after the two of them). Just, there’s something there with naming the kids after these two ships that makes me go a little crazy

Finally, the characters these guys parallel also have a romantic connection, probably reciprocal but at least canonically one sided. The conceit for this campaign is that the world was already saved by legendary heroes years ago. And as you go on you get to see how each character of our party members parallels one of these heroes. For Hardwon, his counterpart is Ulfgar and Moonshine’s is Alanis. Ulfgar is very clearly in love with Alanis when we see them interact and idk if anything comes of this for them (once again haven’t finished the podcast) but it’s just very reminiscent of Hardwon and Moonshine could be.

This is utter word vomit rn and probably makes NO sense but yeah basically….. HardShine is my non-canon straight ship of choice now lol. Thanks for letting me share, I have been rotating them in my mind with incoherent thoughts for a little bit now

[longhands-the-second]

Thoughts on volume 1 (disorganized and very sparse, I don’t have the brain capacity for meta this week)

Greetings everybody! I probably won’t be super insightful or anything but I’d really like to have conversations with people (can’t convert my irl friends no matter how hard I try). I’ve really enjoyed reading about people’s thoughts in the tags this week.

Thank god for the people at trigun overhaul they are saving my ass so much time and money right now. It’s really accessible and I appreciate it very much, that shit could NOT have been easy or quick.

I was really iffy on Nightow’s style for a long time, but it’s growing on me pretty quickly. There’s something about that 90s style of manga I was never quite sure about, but Vash’s babygirl eyes are winning me over.

Manga Vash just kind of feels different already? He’s still Vash obv but he feels more blue as opposed to maybe a warmer color. There’s a palpable melancholy about him and it’s making me feel weird. Kind of like I’m seeing the reality of his character and situation? (*I should mention that I’m basing my picture of him on all animated material + a decent amount of manga spoilers.) Maybe part of that is the kind of baby face he has here. He looks younger but seems older? His eyes feel different. It’s the lashes, probably. He looks like a wet cat in a lot of these drawings because of those eyes.

Odds are decent that I’m just weird emotionally right now lol. Probably good this is scheduled to be read slowly instead of all at once. Maybe this is just putting into perspective that his Antics are for his own sanity as much as his image. I, too, make jokes to ignore the Existential Dread. He is more often visibly upset without the theatrics.

WAHOO! (<- obligatory Dante comparison)

Gonna flat color some pages. I have to get it out of my system. It’s killing me they’re like coloring pages I MUST.

The Plants are good and proper fucked up here, aren’t they. I see why Trimax people make Vash an eldritch monstrosity. Very excited to see how much of that is based in canon. Also, wings! (I am going to be normal about this (<- lying)).

Not to homestuck post on the trigun blog but Vash and Knives are so hope/rage coded. Could make an argument for like 4 different classpects for both of them but I’m not that dedicated. This isn’t related to the specific thing we’re reading, it's just on the brain right now. It’s a fun way to think about how character philosophies/personalities interact with each other.

Volume 1 complete! I like Meryl a lot more here. 98 gave me the wrong impression, I think, so seeing this stuff in its original context makes more sense. More often I find myself thinking “oh, that’s more reasonable than I thought.”

Overall I'm enjoying the manga more than I enjoyed my 98 rewatch so far. Once we get into the Meat I’ll probably like it more than Stampede (idk we’ll find out). It’s generally pretty rare for me to like manga more on account of whatever flavor of neurodivergent I am making it fucking impossible to focus on reading long enough for it to not be word soup. Knowing as much as I do about the adaptations is definitely helping with the reading comprehension.

Anyway, I've started coloring a few pages and I might start doing at least one or two per volume if time permits. Got carried away with these ones though. I’ll post them to the tag later.

[vonkarma2]

9 13 & 19?

9. What is one of your character's theme songs?

Very difficult to pick just one this is so much pressure. Does anyone have like only one song associated with them like a side character or something. Ok I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t embarrassing so Im dodging the question. To make up for it here’s a playlist I made of ed ideas like if it was an anime these could be the ending song. Or an ending song if it was the same as like dorohedoro where they had a bunch of different ones 

13. Which OC do you make art/media with the most?

I think it’s actually Angel, like Rocio used to be the OC I drew by far the most but I actually think I draw Angel slightly more these days or at least like in terms of drawings that take more than 15 seconds. Probably bc there are more poses and outfits I can draw him in + expressions I can draw him with, whereas Rocio only does this 😐🧍and wears the same thing like every day of their life. But yeah he’s super fun to draw and I actually have written some things from his perspective as well which I also think is fun :) he has like a unique perspective like within the characters because of his personality and backstory. I feel like I haven’t shown like the negative sides or what he’s like enough so far though so I’m looking forward to doing that in the future 

19. Who is your most recent OC?

So I think like I’m not going to count people as an oc if they don’t meet the qualifiers of 

-Having a name -Having a solid defined storyline and/or personality -Having been drawn or written abt more than once By this metric I haven’t made any new ocs in a while 😔 I’ve done like character designs but none that have really stuck, probably because I like already have a lot of established ones that I’m focusing more on yk. Like there are a lot of storylines I already have, so I feel like a lot of dynamics + types of characters I find interesting are already covered, and I usually don’t really need to make new ones. Usually my motivation for trying to make new characters is like an aesthetic or tone I think would be interesting but that’s not really enough to base a whole character off of yk. I’d like to come up with more ocs bc I like designing characters but yeah I think I’d like to focus more on my older ones for now. Maybe I’ll try to come up with new like main ocs if/when I finish writing out their story. I feel like the side stories will be in minor character limbo forever bc I don’t really have a story with them and also bc I was picturing them as a comic or visual novel which I would never finish in a million years. Whereas I think I could eventually finish writing something yk.

But anyway time to actually answer the question <3. Actually now that I think abt it it’s probably Connor Armitage collab with @lycanthrology . Does he really count he like canonically exists (long story short he’s another character’s shitty absent father) but doesn’t ever appear or get directly mentioned or anything. Absolutely 0 relevance to the story at all. Also he might not count because Ive never drawn him + I don’t think anything had been written with him.

Before that it’d have to be Dominic Ortega from meat city which is also a collab with various people including @zipmode whose art you should check out <3 (the other people I’m not going to tag here because idk their usernames on this website). First and foremost he is a rabbit furry. But also he’s like an old man who used to be a lawyer but got incredibly tired of his life and so moved to meat city and became an evil wizard instead. Carnomancer specifically bc yk meat city. He likes creating monsters for fun and unleashing them among the populace also for fun, main goal is to escape boredom in life + find some kind of connection even (especially) if it’s negative. He used to have a sort of friend in thr form of James Bianco who was like. His Jesse Pinkman. But unfortunately he was accidentally killed horrifically, and Mr. Ortega’s (Im not on a first name basis with him it feels weird) attempt to resurrect him instead created a mindless zombie which eventually gained an entirely new intelligence. This person’s name is Rico theyre like their own character but the question didn’t ask to explain them as well so I’m not going to <3. But the two characters do interact I might give them like a goal they have to work together to accomplish that might be fun to write abt. But yeah he was created May 2022 so that’s when I have most recently made a new character.

[officersnickers]

Hi i see you love my post about isabella being a dentist to her kids. Thank you so much :D Also i would like to give a bit of a brainstorming and answering your questions based on my opinions/theories Personally for me when i was a kid losing a tooth is not as disturbing one would think especially when you have a parent like isabella who assures you that it will grow back because you are still a child and it will not hurt because your teeth are not permanent yet. (i experienced many of my teeth being pulled due to tooth decay when i was young) but again its my opinion and experience. I'm not invalidating you or anything. I'm sorry if i did. (plus isabella can be manipulative at times and would bribe her kids with rewards) other question - are the kids vaccinated? while it is possible that they have doctors in the tpn world that does not mean they live in the same time and mindset as us. I believe My answer would be no. There's no viruses like covid in the tpn world. Just simple sickness like colds. Plus they live in a different time and "safe" isolated area. what happens when someone needs an operation? ok this is a tricky one. I believe it would depend on what part of the body that needs a surgery. They will either give the kids an operation while they are babies to cure whatever disease they got or give the baby to the demons. They can't risk the kids finding out the dark truth. Meaning very very few people will go the the orphanage.

but what if the kid needs surgery when they are no longer babies?

I can imagine the mamas make sure the kids eat on time, drink 8 or more glasses a day, sleep on time, and many health procedures. So chances of that happening are rarely. but when they do, they will probably get shipped out or the mama will be the one doing the surgery. who knows Maybe they will send a doctor?????? idk what do you think?

First of all, thank you for giving such a great analyses! It was a pleasure to further think about your takes.

Talking (and apparently writing) about The Promised Neverland, one of my favourite hobbies ^^ I‘m delighted to see my little babbling in the tags made the gears in your head spin and twist and even resulted in a further analyses!

Surely, a child loosing a tooth is something truly natural and normal; still, even as a kindergarten teacher, seeing some teeth hanging on their dear life in a childrens mouth is giving me nightmares, for sure 😨🦷

Surely Isabella would have found a way by the events of the series to make the procedure less stress- and painful, so the children would have no second thought than to come to her when they will start loosing their teeth (if they grow old enough for this event to happen). Surely, the headquarters showed the sisters and Mamas to be how to deal with children loosing their teeth – however they did this – and Isabella has surely seen worse by now than a bleeding gap in a children‘s gum.

Are the children vaccinated – you said probably no, I would beg to differ and would say: It depends. I just looked up which vaccinations are recommended in the first twelve months (which would be the time window till the babies are shipped out to the farm). Tetanus (which would be a must have for children who could hurt themselves anytime!), diphteria, whooping cough, poliomyelitis, HIB, pneumococci, rotaviruses and/ or meningococci. You may ask why they should vaccinate the children, since they will probably never get in contact with these diseases, but remember this: The babies are constantly together with other children and adults. On top of that, we don’t know how much contact the sisters/ Grandmother have to deal with the demons and Ratris, which also work in the headquarters. It’s surely safe to assume the demons don’t want to loose their precious meat to diseases they could prevent prior, even if the children never would get in contact with them anyway.

Additionally, I also would assume the sister candidates get more vaccinations as soon as they enter headquarters. Spreading diseases in a farm and possibly bringing harm to the goods aka the babies would be the worst case scenario for the demons, I bet. Non to mention, rubella for example could kill the precious merchandise or lead to severe disablities. For a farm that concentrates on intelligent cattle children, this would be a no-go.

Plus, Covid – are we sure one of the scientists or Ratri’s who operated at the headquarters didn’t spread it at one point in the 20’s in any farm? I wouldn’t bet my money on the fact that the big ol’ Rona spared the demon side of the world 🤔😷

Now, operations. Normally, the Mamas and Sisters wouldn’t be in need of it, I guess. On the other hand, Krone stated the orphanage is equipped with tools and medicine products if all would fail.

After all, children are stupid and reckless and even if their bones are more flexible, they are not invincible. One could hurt and break something any time, and for this events the caretakers are surely prepared.

Not to forget, Isabella knew excatly how to break a leg effectivly without making further harm (poor Emma, but it was still impressive). These techniques are probably learned at headquarters and even more, trained with other sister/ Mama-candidated. How many bones did they broke each other while their training? I don’t even want to think about.

Surely enough, the caretakers know, well, how to take care of open wounds, doing stiches, treatening allergic reactions or other diseases a child could develop in the few years they’ve got.

About the former sisters and Mamas becoming doctors – why not? We already saw some of them implementing the heart chips into the girl’s hearts, not to mention to possibility of having to do a c-section, so all some of them would need would be degree in medicine. If they would pursue this goal is another question, regarding everything they are through...

That would be my hot take on this whol discussion. What do you all think? How would Grace Field House (or any other farm) handle these kind of thinks?

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Does Archaeology - Part 4

(As before, if you’re only seeing this part 4, the rest of them have the tag KyidylCL)

THE ARTEFACTS

Ok, so I’ve talked about the site and what we’ve been digging in and such, but I’m gonna be honest with you guys: I like lab work exponentially more than field work.  So I am the one who has been processing the vast majority of the finds and ergo have lots of stuff.  That’s why I sometimes make jokes about the stuff in my basement - I’m storing the majority of it here in my basement.  I’ve gotten the question before about ownership, so here is how that works.  The dig is on private land so anything we get technically belongs to the owner of the land.  Now, as far as I know, he has no interest in keeping any of it so it’ll likely end up in the hands of the arch society, who will basically just be custodians of it but not owners.  It might end up in a museum, too.  I don’t really know, but that determination won’t be made until we’re finished, and not by me.  

So every site has its own sort of categories of stuff that you find depending on who lived there (although for ease, archaeologists often categorize this stuff based on location and time - more on that later.).  For our site the majority of it falls into these categories: animal bone, shell, lithics, pottery, charcoal, modern contaminants, and artefacts.  And, to lend a bit of clarity here...lithics are anything made of rock.  So they include fire cracked rocks, flakes from stone tool making, material that was used in construction, material that was crushed to make temper for pottery paste (more on that later, too.), etc.  If it came from a rock it’s a lithic.  

And imma tell you a secret: I hate lithics.  Everyone has their thing, their category of human refuse that they simply do not like.  A prof of mine hated teeth and pottery.  That’s just how it is, and mine is lithics.  I think they’re boring, I can’t tell a flake from a blade, I don’t give a single fuck what material they are, I don’t care about the style or craftsmanship...I just don’t care.  I call them all rocks, and I do it so much that everyone on the site has started accidentally calling them rocks, too, which amuses me.  Rocks, to an archaeologist, means “stone that wasn’t altered or used by people”.  They’re worthless.  Not that I think lithics are worthless - far from it - I just really hate them and this site has so.  goddamned.  many.  Lucky for me, we have a Rock Guy aka someone who really loves lithics and actually has gotten pretty good at flint knapping and just, y’know, is really into rocks.  

And to clarify about artefacts.  When you’re out in the field everything you find is either an artefact or a find.  The collection of these things is called an assemblage.  When you’re doing lab work and sorting through it all later on an artefact is, well...like a thing.  I’m explaining this poorly....it’s a complete object with a specific function.  So, a whole pot = artefact, broken pieces = sherds (not shards, sherds.). Complete arrowhead = artefact, flakes or a broken one = lithic.  Artefacts also tend to be somewhat unique, or at least something you don’t have a lot of.  They don’t always have to be complete, anything that is a specific object can go in here.  Like, for example, this piece of pipe we found: 

To recap, we’ve got pottery, charcoal, lithics, shell, bone (animal - we haven’t found human. But I’m just gonna say bone.), and artefacts.  If you are sensitive to things like that, this is your warning that this post is going to have pictures of animal bone and you should scroll quickly.  

Now, for reference, this is what it all looks like before I clean it and after it’s been dying out for a day or two (the ground has natural moisture, so I basically just open the bags and let them air out.): 

And, yes....I am cleaning them off on an actual antique blotter with real silver edges that my mom gave me for this express purpose.  A factoid I’m only sharing because it amuses me in that sort of “bet they never envisioned this use for this thing” sort of way.  Normally, if I was in a real lab, you’d do this over a metal tray.  When you’re working with an assemblage you never hold it over empty space, you always hold it over the bench and preferably over whatever your work surface is.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t dropped my fair share of stuff anyway, but most of it just lands on the work surface and not the floor, which is why you hold it over a work surface.  But anyway, as you can see, it just looks like a brown, dirty mess.  I usually do a quick sort of the stuff I know for sure what it is and then I wash it with a soft toothbrush and some water.  The rocks I just submerge and swoosh around because they’re rocks and I can’t really damage them and there’s SO FRIKKIN MANY that I refuse to clean them individually.  

So now that you’ve gotten through that long-winded but necessary explanation of terms, where are we at? Since I’m a bioarchaeologist and I prefer things that were once alive to the general detritus of human society, we’re gonna start with the bone.  Specifically, we’re gonna start with how I know those two pits from yesterday’s post are one pit.  This is how: 

This is a deer bone.  Don’t ask me which one bc I’m really not good at ID’ing species and animal anatomy, but it’s a leg bone of some kind.  See how it’s broken? One piece was found in one hole and the other piece was in the other.  Clearly it’s the same animal, ergo the pits are related to each other.  The vast majority of what came out of that particular feature was bone, with the rest being charcoal and the occasional pot sherd.  This means it was probably used for cooking and not as a garbage pit. Also there was food in it, if you recall the cooking accident from yesterday.  but sometimes y’know, stuff falls into the fire pit or it’s put in there as a way of disposing of it.  

But wait, I have more cool animal bones!! 

Ok, so there’s this one: 

This bone has a special place in my heart. IDK what species it is (I *think* it’s a fragment of deer long bone.), but that’s not why it’s cool.  This single bone is strong evidence for the presence of dogs.  =D See that circular mark on the right? That is the impression of a canine tooth from a carnivore.  Human teeth can’t make those marks in bones - our teeth aren’t strong enough to do significant damage to bone, and anyway we tend to crack bones open with rocks (a form of damage called percussion marks.) and not with our teeth.  Those other longer scratch marks are also likely from chewing, not butchery, because they’re in the right places and they’re the right shape.  Now we know this was a settlement, and this bone was found smack in the middle surrounded by human detritus and not on the fringes or outskirts.  There were no domesticated felines in the Americas at the time BC this is from the lower pre-contact level, so what’s really the only carnivore that would be wandering around a human settlement? Dogs.  I love this kinda stuff because it’s so easy see them chilling around the fire pit, talking and eating, teasing whomever it was that spilled dinner, and then tossing the bones to their dogs to gnaw on after dinner.  It’s just such a people kind of thing, you know? All from one small, circular mark.  I actually found more on later bones that came out of other places, so it’s pretty safe to say there were dogs living here with their people even though we have found neither people nor dogs.  

So here’s another cool bone: 

Again, no idea what species it is bc I’m not a zooarch (yes, there are archaeologists that specialize in animals and wooooo boy can they tell you a LOT about migration and eating habits of people.). It’s about the size of half my thumb, IE, not large.  This one is cool, and it’s the only one I have like this, because of that notch you can see vertically in the image on the right hand side.  I don’t know what it was for, but I DO know that it was an intentionally made modification to the bone.  Those striations aren’t natural - natural bone is smooth or has a very specific texture and this isn’t that.  It’s probably not damage done to the bone after it was deposited in the archaeological record.  It has the same patina as the majority of the rest of the bone, which you can compare to the lighter area there on the right hand end of the bone.  That lighter area does not have the patina of age that the rest of the bone does, and is the result of damage in a much more recent time - probably as we were taking it out of the ground.  Small bones are fragile.  So someone gouged this channel intentionally in this bone, either because they were going to use it as decoration or it served some purpose as a tool.  I’m not really sure what though.  Hell, they could have just been bored and fidgeting after eating.  Either way, it’s a human modification to this bone that has nothing to do with cooking or consumption (damage from human consumption is cracks and breaks, not scrapes.).  It could also be a butchery mark, although it’s a bit deep for that.  Butchery marks are there from separation of meat from bone - they’re usually just shallow scrapes.  

Ok, last cool bone I’m gonna show you.  Well, bones, plural.  

Ok so this is part of the same assemblage as the ones above, and if I remember correctly these were the ones that came out of that pit.  You can see the same bone with the canine tooth mark there in the center.  There’s also some interesting things like some pottery on the left and a couple teeth off to the right (one is a deer and I *think* that curved on is a squirrel.), but the really interesting thing is the series of 3 shiny bones that are in the center.  There’s a lot of ways to cook meat, and they all do different things to bones.  You will often find the dry, brown looking ones like you can see here in the non-shiny bones. That’s like...your basic “this bone had meat on it when it was cooked”. Then you’ll see ones that are black, and that’s “this bone probably didn’t have meat when it was cooked, or someone tossed it back in the fire when they were done”. Lastly, you’ll see white bone, and that’s a bone that has been burned at a high temperature for a long time.  Usually it’s done on purpose (you can use burned, powdered bone to make stuff.).  

But the shiny ones were in a soup.  And the reason I know that is *because* they’re shiny.  Bones, especially old ones, aren’t shiny.  I mean...you can see that.  You have to do stuff to ‘em.  And bones are porous, but those weren’t.  They felt like hard plastic. And they get that way by being boiled.  The shiny patina is what we call pot polish - they were stirred in the soup while it was cooking and rubbed against the side of the pot and each other, and it gives them a smoother texture.  

All of these collections of bones tell us what and how they ate things.  I know from what I can ID here (which isn’t everything, trust me.) that they ate a lot of deer and wild turkey (we have an entire almost completely intact turkey long bone.). There is also, I believe, squirrel (I found a portion of a skull and jaw that I’m pretty sure belong to a squirrel), and an assortment of other small rodents and birds.  Lots of birds.  Bird bone is really distinctive, it’s light and the spongy bone has a distinct texture.  A zooarchaeologist can look at bones like this and ID species and age, and from there tell you what time year something was probably killed.  Societies that hunted a lot tended to do it seasonally so that they wouldn’t damage the populations.  Plus especially with fish and stuff they have very specific growing cycles and short lifespans, so they can also tell you a lot about where the people were hunting and when.  Like certain fish will only spawn in certain places, so it’s really informative.  Zooarchs are so important and there just aren’t enough of them.  

Anyway, there are other cool things in the bones but I’m trying to strike a balance here between too much and not enough and I really love bone so I’m going to stop here for today.  Tomorrow is going to be other artefacts (yeah, sadly, even lithics, lol), and what they tell us about the site and the people who lived there.   As an aside: if anyone has any like just general “how do they know this?” sort of questions about history and archaeology those would be fun to answer.  I love to tell people how we do things but I don’t just wanna infodump.  I DO want to explain procedure in what I hope is a readable way because I think understanding how we make the sausage will help people have more trust in science.  So if you have any questions, please, send asks.  If I don’t know the answer I’ll research it or pass it on to someone who does.  

[naynah-pinsence]

I’ve been chipping away at the brittle skeleton of the project. I’m like, maybe a fourth of the way through of writing first-draft summaries of what I’m going to consider season one of the rewritten mermaid melody? Writing is hard. 

Anyway, at some point I’ll rewatch and read mermaid melody (pitch, pure, and keep up with aqua) to put some meat on the bones. When I do that, if I post about it, I’ll use the tag “rewrite research” for organization and if you do/don’t want to see that then there you go. Misc. related thoughts below!

1. I am really hoping to do a web comic format, but I currently lack a tablet that I could use to realistically make that happen. So even if I get the skeleton done, it’ll probably be a long while before anything ~officially~ happens in that regard.

 2. I currently have four “seasons” planned. Idk how to split them up as of now, but as I flesh stuff out more, there should be more concrete arcs.

      Season 0 is all backstory about Aqua Regina, Panthalassa, and other world-building stuff. Realistically, all of that information will be spread out throughout the story instead of being an info-dump in a googledoc.

     Seasons 1 and 2 are the core of the series, being Pitch and Pure respectively. I would really like to expand on other characters outside of the main trio. I’m especially interested in how Gaito grew up, Sara’s journey from accidentally destroying her kingdom to being where she is during Pitch, and Karen’s journey to finding Noel. I hope that I can expand the history of Panthalassa in S0 enough to give the Amagi siblings a more interesting role.

     Season 3 will just be Aqua. The potential is being WASTED. I want to explore the world that S2 will leave behind (I’m being vague bc I don’t want to spoil the plan for how I want it to end) and the concept of 1/2 merfolk. NO ARRANGED MARRIAGE.

3. I would love it if I could write a scene of Coco and Sara that has a similar dynamic that’s in this song (spoilers for the Tangled Series. I suggest watching it if you can it’s cute).

4. I don’t want Michal to be reborn. The universe-reset-button doesn’t really work for her, I think. I can’t fully put a finger on why, but part of the reason why it doesn’t work for me is because it feels very Sailor Saturn copy. (Sidenote: I feel like Sailor Moon, being pretty much THE formula for the modern magical girl show, is used a lot for comparison, which is a thing I already did comparing Usagi and ChibiUsa to Lucia and Lukia/Rukia, but in all honestly I really feel like MM is inspired by/borrows from SM a little too much?) The reset-button also is kind of a hit-or-miss for me in general? I think it would be much more interesting if Michal is offered a good ending in S2, but rejects it out of anger and becomes the main antagonist of S3. Michal and Lucia already have some foiled traits, so why not just go full throttle with that?

5. If you look back through my MM stuff, you’ll see I used to use the “Luchia” spelling instead of “Lucia”, which I use now. I switched when I realized that the letter “C” can make a “CH” sound in Italian, which is one of the roots for the name “Lucia”. I feel like a total dumbass for not realizing this sooner, considering the pronunciation of my own family and saint name.

6. I’ve been thinking about Hanon and Rina’s love interests.

      Hanon gets Taro and Nagisa. When Taro is introduced, there is about a seven-year age gap between the two (about 13 and 20). Even when I was a middle-schooler, I found this kinda weird. I now know that a relationship would be very bad and illegal sooooo. With that, I think that Hanon’s crush is pretty natural! I too, was a young teen girl, surrounded by other young teen girls once. A good portion of crushes are on older men: romance is kind of a new thing at this stage in life, and older men tend to seem more attractive than your possibly hasn’t hit puberty yet classmates. A reminder to the kids, DO NOT start a romance with an adult. Taro, from what I remember, is very soft-spoken and polite, so kind of just lets Hanon do her thing? Nagisa, on the other hand, is the opposite situation: younger, he’s interested in her, but she’s not really into him. Idk how I feel about them having a lasting relationship, but I think the relationship acts as a good point of growth. It could be played in two ways: the first is that she thinks that he is too young for her (12 and 15 I think?) and she realizes that she might have made Taro uncomfortable by being on the other side of things. If I solely go this route, Hanon probably doesn’t end up with Nagisa in the end. The second is, if I remember correctly, what ends up happening more or less: Hanon learns to let go and relax. Making a little self-awareness with the first option and ending with the second seems the most appealing to me atm. 

      Rina gets Kaito and Masahiro. There is a hot second where Rina gets a crush on Kaito, but actively doesn’t pursue it. She values her friendship more. Honestly, I kind of liked that plot-point. It shows a good bit of Rina’s personality, and adds some quiet conflict. Again, if I remember correctly, Rina doesn’t say anything to anyone about it, including Kaito and Lucia. It could have been so easy to do a Moon and Mars love Tuxedo Mask thing, but the way I remember it being handled made a more interesting and strong character. I have trouble with Masahiro as a character. On paper, he’s a rebellious and fun dude with daddy issues and secret money, which could be cool! But I feel like he was kind of just slapped in the story so Rina could have a bf too. Because he could be more interesting than just love interest #3, I want to keep him in the story, but idk how at this point. Not as a love interest bc Rina is not into dudes in my story, which also means the mini crush on Kaito is probably out the window. idk

7. I want Rukia to skateboard bc she can’t surf bc of the mermaid transformation. Radical.

[domesticmail]

scrapes

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: fuck if i know lmao

requested: nope!

summary: idk how i’d explain this one. reader is frustrated that the pogues keep treating her like a baby, so she takes things into her own hands, and when she gets hurt, things come to a head in the kitchen of The Chateau

warnings: ANGST. cursing, blood, and ANGST BABY ANGST

a/n: starts quick, gets sad/angry, ends content and kinda happy! also for reference the Pogues are all 17 and the reader is 16 here!! might make this a multiple part fic, who knows !!

Your feet hit the ground, rubber soles slamming against pavement. Broken pieces of road and rubble crunch under your feet. The sound of pebbles cracking under your weight is lost in the commotion of noises, your heart throwing itself against your ribcage, the friction of your hand sliding against a wall, cold air blowing in and out of your lungs.

Splinters embed in your skin as you scramble up the fence, wood cutting into the meat of your thigh. As your body hits the dirt, you swear you can feel the wound opening, blood painting the ground. A ringing fills your ears, but there’s not room in your schedule today to worry about that - you’re on a bit of a time constraint here, if you hadn’t noticed. With that in your mind, the panic of falling behind floods your veins, and you’re up again, sneakers throwing dirt and rocks in your wake as you high-tail it away from your bad decision.

Shouts come from behind you, telling you to stop, but clearly they haven’t gotten the message: you’re not sticking around. You round the corner and haul ass down a few twists and turns before finding your final destination, a friend’s house. You burst through the front entrance and slam it shut, leaning back against the front door, chest heaving.

John B. raises an eyebrow at you. “Woah. Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t respond - you’re busy doing that mental-checklist thing you always do.

Shoes? Ratty old converse, several years old, scuffed on the sides - but they were like that before. Check.

Cut on your leg? Not too big, hurts like a bitch, though. Can be fixed with a towel, rubbing alcohol, and some pressure. Check.

Any other cuts? Some splinters in your palms, yes, but nothing else major. Thank fuck.

A pat of your back pocket reveals that your wallet is still there, secure. Your earrings - still there. Phew. Necklace didn’t break or fall off when you hopped the fence? It’s still dangling around your neck, holy shit. Check. 

Aside from the cut and some flecks of dirt dug into the arm you landed on, you’re in remarkably good shape for someone running from hired security.

You shoot a grin at John B., who’s now been joined in his confusion by the rest of the group: Kie and Sarah looking worried, Pope looking exasperated and mildly concerned, and JJ looking very, very confused. Walking past them to the kitchen, you start rooting around for supplies to clean up your leg. Nobody’s said anything yet, and you know why. It’s not common for you to come home like this, out of breath, roughed up a little, bleeding. You can feel them holding their tongues, waiting for you to explain.

The silence stretches into uncomfortable territory. You’re too busy trying to fix your cut to care, really. You know what comes next, anyway - you’ve seen them do it to JJ about a thousand times. The quiet, palpable tension of concern, and then the inevitable eruption.

Just as you expect, as soon as you hop up on the counter and begin your at-home wound treatment, showing no signs of speaking first, everyone explodes at once.

John B. “So no explanation? You’re just gonna walk in here like this is normal?”

Kie. “What the hell, Y/N? We didn’t know where you were! You could’ve died!”

Pope. “That’s a huge cut, what is wrong with you? What were you doing that was so stupid you got a cut like that?”

Sarah. “We were so worried! You weren’t picking up! Are you okay?”

And, of course, JJ. “Who did this to you?”

You’re applying pressure to your leg (fuck, fuck, ow, fuck, shit, bitch, motherfucker no thank you, ow), listening to your friends voice their concerns, when something hits you - JJ thinks someone hurt you?

More importantly, why is JJ so angry about it?

You’d been expecting him to be the least concerned, to give you a high five or a compliment or at least a proud grin, but no, you’re facing anger, frustration, radiating off of him. This is unprecedented - you never thought you guys were close like that.

Don’t get it wrong, you’re close with all the Pogues, just as family as the rest of them - JJ just isn’t really your person. You tend to be glued to Sarah and Kie at the hips, tagging along with them when it’s not a whole-group outing, so their worry makes sense. (You usually tell them everything, like sisters, but a two-day long excursion to do some very reckless shit hadn’t felt like something you should tell them. They’d just try to convince you not to go, and you were having none of that, two mornings ago.) But JJ? If anything, you were each other’s least favorite Pogues. The youngest and maybe the most reckless of the group (excluding Pope), you’re typically the one who reminds JJ of all the stuff that can go wrong with his ideas and schemes. You would think he’d be glad to see you get into a bit of trouble.

But there he is, jaw clenched, those eyes fixed directly on yours. His neck’s gone all tight (you’ve been around him long enough to know that only happens when he’s angry; it’s a little endearing, actually, a little cute), the hand not placed protectively on your knee clenching into a fist laid on the counter. And there’s something in that touch, the way he’s got his hand on your knee - there’s affection there, emotion, something you’ve never felt from JJ before.

All of a sudden, it’s like the greatest hyperfixation in the world is JJ’s hands. They’re not soft, necessarily, not the type of hand you want to hold just because it feels like it’s gentle and kind. Maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to this weird, unexpected touch. You can feel the callouses on his palm pressing into the pink, scraped (oh, you missed a spot in your checklist, your knees look wrecked from that fall over the fence; probably shouldn’t do that again) flesh of your knee, the pads of his fingertips pulling your attention away from the group and to him.

To put it lightly: it’s a very intimate three seconds.

You want to disappear for a second, want to vanish in a puff of smoke and not exist, because the intensity with which he’s looking at you is scary. Not like you’ve done something wrong, but like whoever he thinks did this to you is going to pay, and pay a hefty fee at that.

You don’t like it. Not at all. You would do anything - anything - for him to never look at you like that. Like he’s going to kill someone.

“What - Nobody did this to me, JJ,” you scoff, matching his intense gaze with an annoyed look. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re covering up for them. What did they say they’d do to you? I’ll do worse to them, Y/N, I swear, just tell me who did it.”

You scowl at him, scooting over to move your knee from his hand. This isn’t about you and JJ - this is about you wanting to prove yourself. This is about you showing them you’re not a baby. That you can handle yourself. Not that you need JJ to get all weird and protective over you. “I did this, JJ, back off. I don’t need you to be weird about it.”

The rest of the group has been quiet, but John B. pipes up. “He’s not being weird about anything. We were all worried.”

“I don’t need you guys to be worried about me. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine, you have a fucking cut on your leg - “

“I’m fine, JJ - “

“If you were okay you wouldn’t be fucking bleeding, Y/N - “

“Will you stop acting like I’m a child for two seconds? Nobody did this, it wasn’t Topper or Rafe or - “

It’s like a lightbulb goes on in JJ’s head. “It was Rafe, wasn’t it? I’ll fucking kill him, he has no right to put his hands on you - “

“JJ, shut the fuck up!”

He looks at you in stunned silence, leaning back a little as though your words had physically struck him. 

You’re fuming now, blood running hot. This is exactly why you didn’t tell them your plan - they’d start with this shit. The constant babying. You understand, they’re seventeen, you’re sixteen, you’re younger and they want to protect you, but jesus christ, it’s not like they had some worldly experience - they’re seventeen years old, for fuck’s sake. “Don’t use my actions as a reason for you to go beat up Rafe, JJ. I’m not a fucking excuse for you to get in a fight. I did this for a reason, so how about you leave me alone and let me get to it instead of acting like I’m a fucking child?”

Everyone is silent.

The group looks actually stunned, like they’ve all been sucker-punched. Where the hell did this come from? You’ve never yelled like that. You’ve never yelled, period. You’re never the angry one - you’re the quiet one, the one who would rather be helping at The Wreck or on the HMS Pogue than be at the Boneyard at a kegger. 

JJ, after the initial shock, looks even angrier now. He pulls away from you and storms off, running a hand through his blond hair. The sound of his shoes on the hardwood floor echoes through The Chateau, and you sit on the counter quietly, tears filling your eyes.

Not tears of sadness, though. You’re not sad.

You’re fucking angry. At all of them. For bringing you here. For pushing you to this point. For making you feel like a child. 

“You treat me like a kid,” you say quietly, but with force, scowling at your tears.

Sarah’s the first to approach, wrapping her arms around you softly. You want to push her away, to refuse the affection, but you don’t. You just accept the distance, reluctantly hugging her, resting your head on her shoulder and just breathing, breathing, breathing. Maybe the tears’ll go away if you just breathe.

Pope is the next, not Kie. (She’s still surprised that you yelled. The indignation of being yelled at is fading, her initial annoyance becoming gentle concern.) He envelops you and Sarah.

Kie joins next, and then John B., and it’s when you feel his hand on your back that your breathing, breathing, breathing, becomes choked sob after choked sob, cries wracking your body into Sarah’s shoulder. You feel like you’re breaking down into them all, like the anger is pouring out of you like a waterfall, just gushing and gushing and gushing. It’s so frustrating, so difficult, so annoying, you just can’t deal with it anymore.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying when your sobs recede their way to gentle hiccups. Your face is dry from the tears, and when everyone pulls away, you see tears in Sarah’s eyes. She offers you a weak smile, one you return.

There’s a conversation then, right there in the kitchen. It’s not one full of anger, or sadness, or anything especially negative. It’s just tired. The words float out of your mouth - “I’m sorry” - and it’s like you’re disconnected from yourself. It lasts maybe twenty minutes, apologizing from all ends, promises to do better, and at the end, you feel so full of love that you’re nearly bursting at the seams. We’re family, we love each other, you could’ve just told us if we were being frustrating, reassurances floating their way through your head like water, pushing out all the anger. 

You don’t know how you ended up on the hammock with the rest of the group - excluding JJ - one arm thrown across John B., snuggled in with Pope, legs resting on Sarah and Kie’s, who are laying together the opposite way. The warmth of the sun on your arms and your friends around you is lulling you to sleep slowly, the hammock swinging gently from side to side.

You know you’re going to have to talk to JJ.

But you’re falling asleep now, and you’re losing your train of thought quickly, words floating into oblivion.

You’ll talk to JJ tomorrow.

For now, you’re going to sleep.

[infinitegalahad]

Idk I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. Something cute, angsty, and smutty with a jealous Merriell Shelton and fem reader ?? You can have fun with it

Doux Comme Des Bonbons

Pairing: Snafu x Gender Netural! Reader

Summary: Snafu has a tendency to always wound up into trouble. Regardless, you still manage to put up with him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Implied sexual harrasment, jeleous! snafu, cursing, fighting, but very minor! 

A/N: Of course I can! I feel you, hope this cheers you up! ❣️✨ I’m sorry this came so late. I’ve been studying for a few tests. I promise to work on a few requests this weekend though! I love the requests though, keep them coming in! This one was a little longer than expected. Snafu is my favourite himbo. The title translates to “as sweet as candy” bc this is fluffy-is. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

“Snafu, he’s just a classmate!”

Snafu slammed the door to your apartment building. If school and work weren’t hard enough, this had been your breaking point. As much as you loved your Cajun boyfriend, he was an absolute handful. It was like taking care of a manchild who you loved one minute, the next you wanted to scream in his face. Whenever things were peaceful between you, it was bliss. Endless worship, cuddles, cute french nicknames, romantic and steamy nights. It was anything a partner could ask for.

But when all hell would break loose between you two, it would be full-on discord.

“Classmate ma’ ass. Prissy lil’ fucker. I’ve seen ‘da way ‘dat preppy boy looks at you.” Snafu annoyingly badgered. He followed you around your apartment. Stopping at the kitchen counter, you spin on your heel to look at him straight in the face, a hand on your waist and an angry pout proudly displayed on your face. “ ‘Dat Chris or whatever his n-”

“Chad. His name is Chad.” You corrected.

The Cajun groaned as his calloused hands grasped onto the counter. He was extremely aggravated with hell in his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘yah hangin’ ‘round him. Chad kept starin’ at you like you were a piece of meat. Tried to fuckin’ steal ma’ seat next to you! ‘Dat lil’ sunva gun tryin’ to sit next ‘ta ‘ma Cher!”

Chad wasn’t someone you considered a friend or acquaintance. He was someone who was in your lecture who happened to be one of your friend’s inner friends. Whenever you would go to study, Chad would always tag along. He mainly wouldn’t study and would pester the hell out of you. He had even followed you to Snafu’s jeep, which proceeded to Snafu almost running him over. Thankfully you had convinced Chad not to press charges.

There was no denying he was a total asshole. He wore the brighetst polos, cheated on every test, and did whatever he pleased. Snafu was convinced that his parents paid his way into college. It baffled you how you’re best friend could even consider someone such as Chad a friend. His whole purpose of being alive was to annoy you. Snafu surely didn’t care for him. But you only had the class for another two months, and then you would be rid of Chad.

Two months had gone by and Chad’s advances had begun to slowly die down. He was aware that you were dating Snafu, who he deemed a man out of your league. It was true, but you loved Snafu with every part of your soul. Snafu was not your everyday boyfriend. It was like dating a man child off of his ADHD medication. He was a somewhat (but still young) man who worked in lumber, a little rough around the edge with a thick Cajun accent. You were a teacher’s pet with a kind heart and gentle presence. When your friend Eugene had set you up, you’d never thought it would work. But date after date, the two of you only grew closer. Within three months, you had moved into Snafu’s apartment since you could barely afford to live in a shitty dorm. When Snafu had offered his home to become your home, you knew you had fallen in love with him. As much as Snafu was the occasional pain in the neck, he was yours and you were his.

Also in those two months, your professor had invited you to a semester party after you had finished up exams. The university you attended was celebrating his retirement and had invited the whole school. Not wanting you to be alone, Snafu tagged along. He looked amazing that night; his wild curls tamed with copious amounts of gel, a white collared shirt, and dress shoes that were crisp. It would have been a lovely night if Snafu had simply kept his mouth shut, which he struggled with.

-----

Walking arm and arm with your Cajun boyfriend, you were literally the belle of the ball. The amount of compliments you had received on your outfit was impressive. You had to thank your friend for the simple, yet elegant outfit.

One of your classmates had stopped to compliment your outfit. After a short discussion, you and Snafu continued your way to your assigned seating. Smiling at one of your classmates, Snafu pulled you in closer to his body.

“Relax Snaf,” You smiled as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout? I’m fine. Justa’ lotta guys comin’ up ta you-I don’t blame them ‘doe. But if the-”

“Y/n!”

Snafu was cut off by your friend Hana. Best friends since birth, the two of you were inseparable. Same neighborhood, same high school, and same world-renowned university. Hana knew you better than your own parents at times. You left Snafu’s link to go give her a hug. Hana walked over and gave Snafu a pat on the back, knowing him quite well. You could tell she was a little standoffish with him since she thought he was way out of your league, but was glad to finally see you happy.

“Someone's looking dapper tonight!” Hana commented, patting Snafu’s shoulder. Snafu chuckled and nodded back, complimenting Hana’s (hideous) pink coral slacks. You saw Snafu’s confusion at how bright the pants were. Hana, even if she was your best friend, was a drastically different person from you. “Glad you brought him along, y/n. You guys look so cute together!”

Snafu stood right beside you. Feeling a firm hand on your waist, he looked over and gave you a devilish smirk. “Hana, my cher right here is ‘da real belle of the ball? They don’t even have to try-they just always look flawless.”

While being flirty, Snafu’s sweet side was starting to break through. The three of you chuckled as you gave Snafu a peck on the cheek. Cooing into his ear, “Merriell Shelton, you’re one heck of a kiss up.”

“What? I’m only speakin’ the truth.” He defended.

Hana smiled along at that, giving you a small wink. “Snafu is only speaking the truth. You guys are looking for your table?”

You nodded in response. The banquet hall was small and full of people. It was also dark which made it near impossible to find your assigned seating.

“We’re actually at the same table! Allow me to lead the way.” Hana stated. Snafu and you followed here through the crowd to the table. It mainly contained your classmates and a few of their families and friends. Everything was at peace until you saw a flash of a preppy patchwork suitjacket. It took a minute to process before it hit you and Snafu.

It was the one and only Chad.

Chad had been conversing with his friends.Upon seeing you, he let out a bostieorus laugh with his other preppy friends. Snafu felt immeidntly threatened in his presence, his hold tigenthing at your waist. He was trying to act tough but came off more as a child who’s favoruite toy was going to be taken away. As Chad stood up to come greet himself, you leaned over with your teeth gritted into a smile.

“Don’t say a damn thing. I can handle this.”

The tension between Chad and Snafu was evident. Here Chad was a young and egotistical frat boy who thousands of girls would squirm after. Here Snafu was, a bug-eyed Cajun with a heavy accent and one hell of an attitude. Chad still seemingly wasn’t over the fact that he was almost run over one time by Snafu. He even lightly joked about it, which didn’t sit well with any of you. This only caused Snafu’s burning hatred for Chad to grow even more. Chad was the gasoline and Snafu was the flame. Unfortunately, you and Snafu were placed right next to Chad and his friends. Hana was right next to you and knew that this wasn’t going to end well with the prepster and Cajun. Snafu would swing around the cheap whiskey in his cup and glare down Chad whenever he would even dare look at you. You hated the fact that Snafu was acting like this just because of Chad. The inner immature child in Snafu was beginning to show when Chad began to talk politics. It led to a passive aggressive agreement before you became the mediator before someone got a black eye.

Chad was busy talking to his goons when Snafu turned to you, a hand on your thigh. You placed your hand, squeezing it as you leaned in. “Bab-”

“I don’t like him. Prissy little bitc-”

“Merriell!” You scolded. “Langug-” Snafu smirked as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “I ain’t a Proctologist, but I know an asshole when I see one. Do people think he’s straight? With those pink tight pants, it’s sendin’ another message.”

A snort escaped your mouth as you leaned into the Cajun’s shoulder. He did have a point though. What did people see in Chad that was so attractive?

Snafu noticed that you were amused by his humor. That devilish smirk you knew all too well was plastered on his face. “We should bust outta here, ditch the party and go back home. Watch a ninety day fiance. I like what’s on ‘da outside, but i wanna see what’s on ‘da inside…”

Snafu’s fingers crawled closer to your stomach. You bit your lip in response, your cheeks burning. It was so hard to resist him all dressed up and neat. Two could play this game.

“What the hell am I ever gonna do with you, Merriell Shelton?”

“Beats me, (Y/p) (Y/l/n).” He purred into your ear. It was definitely starting to become harder to resist him, especially when he called you by your professional name. But you had to contain yourself and watch over Snafu for another hour.

Your professor had walked over, interrupting your intimate moment. It was mostly for the better. Snafu had a chance to talk to your professor and learn more about the class you had been taking. He chatted up a storm with Snafu, who seemed integrued. Snafu wasn’t one for learning whatsoever. But anything that his partner would do was of interest. Your professor had even complimented Snafu saying that he had found a lovely partner. As he walked away, Snafu stood by and grabbed your drink to go get a refill. You attempted to get up but Snafu put a hand on your shoulder, holding you down.

“Sit down, darlin’.” He stated, saying a hard d in his creamy Cajun voice. “I’m takin’ care of my smart lil’ student.”

The next few events happened too quickly for you to process. Once Snafu had left, Chad had scooted into his seat. You could smell the vodka on his lips. He began to be his typical self, but got much more invasive of your space. You mostly ignored him as he talked about how rich his family was and his summer house on Nantucket. Hana wasn’t there, so you were stuck until Snafu came back.

Chad began to insulet your boyfriend. It started out as nothing more than a drunken rant, but things slowly came to tug at your heart. He began to make fun of his appearance, calling him “bug-eyed” and “dirty looking skin”. He made fun of his work occupation, outfit, almost anything and everything about him. It was definitely an uncomfortable situation. Where the hell was Snafu?

The breaking point was when Chad had wrapped his arm around you, asking you “What the hell do you see in that loser?”

The next events were full of discord. Snafu had come over, furious. He had yanked Chad out of his chair, yelling in his face. Chad began to cry, threatening to sue you and Snafu. He had also thrown pathetic insults at Snafu, which only made Snafu’s burning hatred brighter. Everybody had their eyes on Snafu, you, and Chad. Embarrassed, you grabbed Snafu and dragged him out of the venue. It was best for the both of you to leave before the police were called. The last words you heard before leaving were Chad’s drunken cry.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer next day! Hope you both get evicted from your shitty little apartment! You people are so evil!”

------

“You could have just ignored him!”

“Like hell! He had yah’ hand ‘round you, tryin’ to s-”

“Oh for the love of god!” You cursed. “I could’ve handled that on my own. You didn’t have to yank him out of his chair!”

“I did have ‘ta! He was assaultin’ you! You’re my c-”

“Merriell, do not cher me. This is serious,” You hissed. All you wanted to do was go to bed and escape this horrible nightmare. “He could charge you for assault. Even if it was minor, you did try to run him over with your car. There’s no way you could stand a chance against that. If you had let me handle it, it wou-”

Snafu raised his voice, “Y/N! HE WAS HARRASIN’ YOU! TRIED TO PULL DOWN ‘YER PANTS! WHAT ‘DA HELL DID YOU THINK I WAS GONNA LET HIM DO? YOU JUST NEED TO FUCKIN’ LISTEN SOMETIMES!”

His sour tone definitely made your whole body go numb. When Snafu raised his voice, you knew he was mad. He was usually pissed off at the world, but it was chilling to hear him scream. His eyes widened as the gel in his hair began to wear off; his unruly curls began to show. You stepped back, feeling tears sting at your eyes. Snafu, upon seeing this, freaked out. He had been irritated the whole night. The last thing he wanted was to see you all upset. Your lip began to quiver as warm tears streamed down your cheeks. The Cajun’s face softened, walking over to apologize. He had fear all over his face. You were the person he loved the most yet at times he had no idea how to comfort you. Emotions weren’t his speciality. He grew up greedy and selfish since it was all he knew. When he had met you, Snafu had truly changed. He didn’t know how to describe it, but you had made him a better person. You gave him hope that the world wasn’t such a shitty place.

Turning around, you walk upstairs and block out everything. Your eyes are full of tears, blinding your vision. Snafu followed after you, begging for forgiveness. He was like a lost, heartbroken puppy. Instead of heading towards your shared bedroom, you decided to hide away in the bathroom. Slamming the door, you back into the wall and slowly slide down. All you wanted to do was just let your emotions loose and not have to think about absolutely anything. You just wanted to be alone with your tears and nothing more.

-----

The tears eventually stopped with your vision cleared. You could feel the dry makeup under your eyes. Your arms and legs felt numb as you were backed to a wall, staring into the shower. What did your professor think? It was horribly embarrassing for you. There was no way you and Snafu could win a lawsuit against Chad. He knew the power he had over the both of you. It was going to be an absolute nightmare. Hana was most likely blowing up your phone with notifications. What di-

Your thoughts went away when you heard the bathroom door open. It was the one and only Snafu who had the look of a sad puppy. He normally wasn’t this soft, but his face was ridden with guilt. You didn’t even react when he walked over and sat right next to you, his thigh right next to yours. Staring at the wall, he let out a sigh. His big blue eyes were right on you.

“Cher,” His fingers trailed onto your chin as he gently turned your head. Your face was destroyed with ruined makeup. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Guilt was all over his face. But there was no time to be whining, all he could do was attempt to make things right.

“Come on,” Snafu cooed. Grabbing your hand, he gently led you up to look in the mirror. This was the second time you saw yourself in the mirror that night. You looked like you had been hit with a tornado. The once neat outfit had been wrinkled, your neatly gelled hair wispy and falling apart, and your face covered with runny makeup. Snafu had gone through the cabinet to grab some makeup wipes. His fingers titled your head to him as he ran it gently over your face. Instead of fighting back, you let him remove the makeup from your face. He made sure to clean off every little bit from your foundation to your lipstick. As he reached your eyes, he peeled off one of your fake leashes and jumped back.

“Sacre bleu!” He cursed, throwing the eyelash into the sink. Snafu was a man who was scared by nothing, except for a fake eyelash. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a chuckle.

“ ‘Da fuck is dat thing? Fuckin’ spiderweb lookin’ bitch. Looks like it has a damn life of its own...” Snafu ranted as his words slowly turned into french. He turned over to you, biting your lip as you held back a laugh.

A smirk appeared on his face as he placed his hands on his hips, “You’d wear this shit?”

“Hana gave them to me.” You shook your head, smiling. He did have a point; they looked like spiderwebs. “I know, they're ridiculous.”

You felt Snafu’s calloused hands grab your waist and halt you on top of the bathroom counter. “Well atleast you make them look hot. Speakin’ of hot, you looked amazing tonight…” He looked down before looking right back into your eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry darlin’. Just seein’ him bother you made me livid. Ain’t no one gotta treat my cher like ‘dat. Especially ‘dat vineyard vines lookin’ prissy.”

You let out a sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “God, his suit was awful…”

“Fuckin’ blindin’. Like, pick a struggle with ‘dat middle part and layerin polo shit…”

A snort escaped your mouth. Snafu wasn’t wrong; Chad looked even worse than he usually did. It was always bright, blinding colors matched with even brighter, more hideous clothes. Snafu’s hand gently caressed your hair as you leaned onto him.

“By the way…” You cooed into his ear, “I’m not condoning what you did, but hearin’ you rip Chad to pieces was kinda hot...”

“Want me ta’ do it again? I’d love to see his little face all scrunched uppa’ ‘gain.”

“God no,” Shaking your head, your hands fiddled with his unruly curls. “If you do, i’m gonna take away all your cigarettes. We can’t handle the lawsuit that’s coming.”

“Y/n, hate to break it ‘ta yah, but I’m not a rule follower. Can I atleast run him over with ‘ma car? Or steal his trump sign?”

“Snafu Shelton, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

Snafu wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He held on tight, like a child holding a teddy bear. “Stay with me. Right here, right now.”

You smiled into his shoulder as the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms. Snafu was certainly a handful, but you loved him more than anything in the world. He was truly willing to do anything to protect your honor and make you happy. That was a true man, not a boy.

“Ok, your chokin’ me Snaf.” You stated. Moving his arms, Snafu looks at your eyes as you rubbed them. “What time is it?”

“Ten? Darcey and Stacey are on.” He said, grabbing your hand as he led you out of the bathroom into your bedroom. “We can poppa’ few beers and order from Shanghai.”

An relieved sigh escaped from your mouth. Alcohol and chinese food were the perfect cure to a horrible night. “Thank freakin’ god. Anythin’ to forget this god awful night.”

You walked away to throw on your sweatpants and one of Snafu’s flannels on. Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours as he pulled you back to whisper into your ear. “Can’t wait ta’ see you outta’ dat pretty lil’ number ‘ya got on.”

An over exaggerated gasp escaped your mouth as you playfully (gently) slapped his face. A snarky laugh escaped his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to change. “Keep it in ‘ya pants, soldier.”

“Sorry. Whenever I see yah, I lose control darlin’.” Snafu smirked devilishly. “Can’t help it that you're smart n’ sweet. Just like candy.”

“Seriously, what the hell am I going to do with you?” You repeat yourself as you finish changing. It baffled you how you could handle Snafu. He was a manchild at times.

The Cajun grabbed your waist and began to tickle you. You fought back as you held back your giggles. Carrying you to the bed, he laid you down as the two of you held each other. His hand drew careless figures into your back as you nestled your face into his neck. He placed a kiss into your face, gently sighing into it.

“I love you, y/n.”

“Love you too, you dirty bastard.”

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo Preview | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk but it’s... not on purpose??, jungkook looks soft but he’s tattoed and pierced, accidental edging (you’ll... understand) → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: ...listen. i am not in the right state of mind right now. i am actually bordering on insane... but that’s not gonna stop me from being a clown so this is!! something i’ve been working on for a Year now but @jincherie​ literally commissioned me to finish writing this piece of shit so here we are... here we fucking are... idk when i’m posting this but it will be Soon and i’m not ready

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there. 

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that. 

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. He feels his eyes bugging out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you. 

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

[chaoticspacefam]

2020 In Review: Wordcount Tag

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch​ , thank you! I’m not sure who’s already done or been tagged for this cause I am, once again, late to the party LOL but I shall (no pressure and sorry if you’ve already done it!) tag: @rainofaugustsith​ , @darth-bagel​ , @thatmmolesbian​ , @thelastenvoyyy​ and anybody else who wants to do this. Yes, I promise I mean you!

Words: 45,314

Published: 0 (I’m not counting the couple of Six Sentence tags I’ve gotten, they’re snippets of an unfinished piece & are included below instead :), or roleplay replies, cause that feels like cheating lol.) I actually wrote a lot more than I thought I had, this is a rough guesstimate as well, as my oneshot WIPs tend to be all over the place across something like 6 different documents, some of which have existed since 2018, so I had to guess at how far up to count from the end for some of them, but I think it’s a fair guesstimate XD I also have included lore/worldbuilding docs in this because that was a 3-month long Lockdown 1.0 Boredom/”Canon is a trash fire so I’m ignoring that and making up my own lore” passion project and I’m goddamn proud of how much I wrote for that. It’s the most I’ve written in one stretch (think I finished it over a span of 3 nights or so, once I’d done all the research and made all the notes ofc ^^)

Not Published: 45,314

The Breakdown:

swtor - 45,314

for creeping shadows (my main longfic/part one of the subterfugeverse series) - 1,553  - Aria, stop being difficult! *shakes fists* XD

oneshots - 16,223

lore/worldbuilding (for subterfugeverse naturally) - 23,001 (is this ALL tomato alien lore? pretty much, yes, yes it is :’D ~400 words is “the WIP reworked timeline to correlate my worldbuilding with the canon timeline that was released”, but 98% is just...me thinking way too much about Purebloods and how they deserved way better goddamn lore. I blame @fluffynexu ‘s amazing tomato worldbuilding posts,  reading them when I went looking for “canon” lore one day for the rp is what got me started down that rabbithole (it’s awesome and if you haven’t already you should totally go check hers out too :DD), I had a “fuck you then canon I’ll do it myself too >:L” moment and once I started I couldn’t stop until I’d crapped out literally over 20k words on the subject *whispering* thank you LOL)

zephyrverse au bonus oneshots - 4,537 (stuff I wrote to fill in time gaps or “just cause I had a plot bunny”, relating to mine and k-christine’s zephyrverse au rp. None of these will likely be posted publicly, but they still deserve to be counted as words I wrote this year :’D

As you can see, most of my “muse” this year came from sporadic oneshots :’D The Ahaszaai twins also properly plot-bunnied their way into my brain in late 2019 and haven’t stopped making a nuisance of themselves the whole fucking year. Every time I tried to carry on with a chapter, one of the two of them would pop up like “Nooo write about ME! pay attention to ME!” - Yes, Ni’kasi, I will get to you this year, I promise XD

New Things I Tried:

Just Writing. Not worrying about whether “it wasn’t part of the next chapter” or “it comes from a part in the story that I’m nowhere near close to posting yet”. If I felt like writing something, or for a specific pairing/feeling/scene, whatever. I wrote until I ran outta muse juice. Yeah, it meant I didn’t technically “finish” anything this year BUT - the important thing is I wrote stuff. and that’s all that really matters, eh? :’D

Polyam ships! May not seem like a big deal but I spent a long time talking myself out of them because of internalised toxic monogamy and finally saying “you know what, fuck it! I can ship three or more people together and it can still be a perfectly wholesome, healthy and loving relationship and that’s okay” was a BIG thing for me this year.

Dialogue Scripts: which I didn’t count as wordcount because really it’s just word vomit of general tone/inflection and dialogue that I came up with right before falling asleep which I didn’t want to lose. Basically, if an exchange or a particularly punchy or moving line of dialogue popped into my brain but I wasn’t ready to write the whole scene that it fit into out, but didn’t want to forget the line(s). I wrote it out in movie script/script-style roleplay fashion e.g. Character’s Name: (emotion, hand gestures etc.) [Dialogue here] and so on. I know this is probably a well known trick of the trade, but I never took it seriously until this year. Seriously, do it. It’s great.

Favorite Thing I Wrote:

Hmmm, a snippet for Andronikos/Ni’kasi that I started this week which isn’t posted yet (saving it for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday so look out for it! :D) was pretty fun to work on, I love their dynamic and Kas is suprisingly fun to write for.

Also the Aria/Vano proposal scene that I posted a snippet for the week before last. I’m having great fun with that scene, and I really enjoy putting a non-serious spin on the classic “proposal scene” tropes. Can’t wait to finish it, though it may be a while before the full one goes up on AO3, as it depends whether it ends up fitting in as part of the mainfic or as an additional oneshot

And I have a D’leah/Kissai oneshot that I need to give another once-over before I finally yeet it onto AO3 and Tumblr for you guys to see :’D

Favorite Fic I Read:

@sleepswithvillains Eleanora/Quinn fic, Helplessly Hoping. I’m horribly behind on chapters and I gotta catch up and read the finale this week, but it’s been a helluva great ride and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the story! <3

Also The Invitation collab with @tishinada featuring Zas and Fiona had me squealing, I can’t wait to catch up on HH and see more of these two, they’re adorable ;-; @a-muirehen​ ‘s Relu/Merkara series of course! I’m a complete sucker for (friends to lovers to in Ariano’s case but yea pfpfpf) enemies to lovers ships and these two are just so good, I am on the edge of my seat every time we get a new snippet for them, ngl (grimace emoji) @darth-bagel ‘s Sylvas/Graz’zt and Sylvas/Liz/Rilfaen snippets which they’ve been spoiling me with on Discord @mercurypilgrim ‘s Ven’fir/Quinn AU oneshots, Cloudbank (Western was a particular favourite, but all are very good!) and of course @rainofaugustsith ‘s Lana/Viri updates are always fantastic, some personal favourites from this year were Almost There & Memory of Healing :3 (I totally still go back to read Commander & Advisor too sometimes, getting to see Viri be a little diabolical and messing with “MiNiSTeR LoRMaN!” was and still is my favourite thing XD)

If I’ve left you out I’m sorry!! These were the ones that stuck out in my memory, but I’ve loved everyone’s writing this year, it’s been great :3

Writing Goals:

to actually finish and post chapter 8 & 9 of Creeping Shadows. Then we’ll get to the meat and potatoes of the story and maybe Aria will stop being a brat and fighting me every time I try to stick to a semi-regular update schedule Get off my butt, finalise the name and get started on Ni’kasi’s part of the Subterfugeverse story. Maybe run the updates in-tandem with Creeping Shadows but idk if I want to wait till after CS is done before I start posting Kas’s side, or do them side-by-side yet, we’ll see ;) Keep writing! I know better than to pressure myself by setting a specific word count goal, that’s never worked well in the past

At least 2 chapters of each of the works mentioned above would be great though, more would be better! We’ll see how I go

Words of Thanks:

honestly, to everybody in the fandom I’ve met this year. Anybody that I follow, thank you for being there and engaging with me and/or posting amazing content for me to look at! I came over from deviantART where the SWTOR fandom is incredibly small and generally quite inactive and the contrast since moving over here has been incredibly uplifting. I very nearly cancelled Creeping Shadows and stopped posting fic for my SWTORverse altogether because I got next to no engagement on dA and it was very disheartening to the point where I felt I could enjoy the game and the rp partners I had, but the solo projects I’d put so much thought, time and love into already weren’t worth continuing. You guys took that spark and kept it going and I really don’t have enough words to say how grateful I am for that. Even if I haven’t published much this year, making posts on this tumblr, interacting with everyone and working on lore, plot points and so on for Subterfugeverse has kept me going through the Hellish Year of Nightmares that was 2020 <3

to the amazing new friends I’ve made in this past year, who have listened to me ramble about headcanons, character backstories, writing snippets (and rambled/sent some back), keep being awesome: @walk-ng-d-saster , @darth-bagel , @kyber-heart , @deepseacritter , @thedinalixlegacy to further friends and meme tag buddies, I get so excited every time I see a mention for a new meme or ask game in my inbox, so thank you!! : @mimabeann , @palepinkycat , @a-master-procrastinator , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @actualanxiousswampwitch , @thatmmolesbian , @a-muirehen to my regular commentors/rebloggers/likers/askbox lurkers, I see every one of you and every time your users pop up I grin like a kid in a toy shop: @starlightjedi , @sparkles-and-rust , @wilvarin-chan , @sunsetofdoom , @ask-an-andalite , @thelastenvoyyy . @lyrishadow and more because Tumblr only goes so far back and I have the memory of Swiss Cheese. If you regularly comment, like, reblog, or anything, from me, know that I see you, and I love and appreciate you for it! <3

I couldn’t possibly remember to tag everyone and I promise if I missed you out it’s not because I hate you! Anxiety just sometimes be a bitch and I don’t wanna look like a clown calling someone a “friend” if I’m not explicitly sure we are, in fact, friends. I think you’re all awesome and I’m so glad to have moved over here and met you all <3

[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.”

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Episode 9 Review (The Future: What Does It Hold?)

Tagging @coldsoba per request

This episode was a headache for me. I was anticipating it, and although it wasn’t entirely bad and it wasn’t the worst, I think this episode highlights all the bad aspects of this season and brings them together. It brings some of the good that this season brought out together as well, but it’s evident to me now that we’re reaching the end so far that the bad is outweighing the good. This episode has me worried about the future of the series, and angry overall. I’m concerned that if this series does continue and has a season 3, it won’t be good, and it will turn into a shit show like The Walking Dead did (they want a season 3, although, based on the low ratings and low viewership, AMC might cancel, no one truly knows yet, especially if BBC and all that other stuff helps boost it).

Before I start this review, I’d like to say right here and now: this is a pretty critical analysis, and possibly has a bunch of unpopular opinions, but I’m saying it anyways. I’m mad, I’m annoyed, and I’m ticked. Last week’s episode ticked me off, this... Oh, man... just know I’m cool if you disagree with me, but I’m hoping by the end you all understand why I feel this way.

Now, don’t get me wrong: like most episodes of this show from this season, despite entire scenes and plot points being bad, it has great moments to enjoy. Did this episode contain lots of action and intensity? Hell yes, and I liked that. Did it stay true to the book ending so far? In a few ways, yes. Pretty much all the ways it didn’t due to the changes they made that were already questionable were the things I didn’t like, which leads me to this: Do I like the direction the story is going, based on what we know and have so far? Hell no. Of course, we don’t know 100% the direction it’s going until next week’s episode, but right now, I’m very on the fence.

Because there is a lot of bad I’m going to discuss, let’s get the good out of the way.

Lou and Vic in the beginning, as per usual, are sweet and I love them. Tabitha and Lou’s interaction was sweet as well. Seeing Charlie frightened and shook was oddly cute, but also funny. And Wayne and Charlie’s interaction... I’m sorry, it was just adorable. I like the idea of Maggie and Vic going to Christmasland together, that was a good choice (although now... I’m uncertain).

To begin the negativity, we’ll start with Charlie and the house scene. I like Charlie confronting his own fears, it’s a very interesting concept. I find it kinda stupid and confusing Charlie wouldn’t know this house exists in his own mind, I mean, it is a part of his own mind, even if it was in the back of it. Why would he not know? Despite that, we’re gonna move onto the meat and potatoes. Now, Cassie’s POV, based on how she was presented in the show (which I still hate, btw, and I am greatly annoyed with how she is not the abuser she was in the book, but I’ve discussed this already a million times), makes sense. We get why she’s pissed, she should be, although I don’t think she understands that her ex-husband had all of this shit happen to him as far as creating Christmasland and becoming a vampire and all that by having a mental snap. It all happened due to his mental pressure. He didn’t have full control (if any control!) over that entire situation. It happened, his life depended on souls and energy from that moment on, and he had to make do with the shitty end of the stick being presented to him. Christmasland is both good and bad, and vampirism is both good and bad, and Charlie has to try to make do with what he can to give himself and his daughter happiness, and focus on the positives. Cassie could’ve maybe given him at least that credit, but she makes it out like, “You’ve brought her happiness in presents and candy, not making her a woman.” Uh... Cassie? Charlie and Millie became vampires out of his control. All this shit happened, how the hell could he reverse all of it? Is there anyway he could? It’s not even explained if he can, but the writers ignore this fact and make it out to be like, “Look, he’s so evil!” Writers, is there anyway he could change these things, even if he wanted to? “Well, no, not exactly, but look, he’s still evil!” So... you’re not even allowing him to have an opportunity to change, and then when he’s stuck in the situation and making the best out of it, even if it isn’t 100% the best way... he’s still super heinous and evil? “Yes!” Okay... whatever... see this is another reason why it annoys me how they’re writing Charlie as “the worst person in the world,” when really, he isn’t. He’s not an angel, but he is not as evil as this show wants to present. Pretty much all of Cassie’s criticisms are valid, but she could’ve at least given Charlie some credit. Nope! But the thing that really bothered me in the back of my mind was how much better this scene would’ve been had they actually written his backstory properly. I kept thinking how much better it would’ve been if an abusive Cassie comes back to haunt Charlie and taunt him, degrading him, and mocking him, how much more sense it would’ve made. And if Millie pointed these things out to him, it might’ve changed his mind some (he would think, “oh, even my daughter kinda agrees with the abuser”). It works here with the way they portrayed her, despite the point I mentioned about Charlie making the best of shit falling flat on Cassie’s end, but it would’ve been 1000% better if they made her an abuser and she scared Charlie, then Millie brings up similar points and Charlie’s POV starts to change a bit.

(Plus, I’d like to add that by doing that, you’re setting potential up for a Charlie redemption arch, and he wouldn’t have to die, Vic and Maggie wouldn’t have to die, and season 3 has interesting potential, and you still have your main characters that we enjoy).

On the topic of this scene, here is a take a friend of mine gathered from it that I definitely can see as well: The point they were trying to make in this scene is that Charlie is a coward. This is their interpretation of Cassie being ‘abusive,’ they didn't leave it out (her being angry at him) like we thought they would. They wanted to give her a concrete reason to hate him so much and call him out for his bad deeds. Also, this house, which was hidden away at the back of his mind, is a mesh of Charlie's fears and his guilt. Based on his facial expressions and his mannerisms, and how he forcefully held Millie, this was all out of fear and guilt for what he did to them that first time and how The Wraith pretty much consumes you. She's literally trying to tell his stupid ass that they can never leave, otherwise, they'll turn to static, which they will. Millie can't go anywhere because she's stuck there and Charlie knows because he was selfish, he robbed her of her future without intending to. Charlie is highkey a yandere, even for his own kid, but it makes sense because he's never really had anything, Also, as to why he’s sort of controlling in a sense: he's driven by fear and also anger if you think about it. Christmasland is how he projects and saving other children because he had a rough and traumatic childhood, he has some serious mental health issues. This I see 100% presented here too, which is a good aspect coming out of this scene. This season does show us a really vulnerable Charlie as they explore his past and give him a breaking point, which we like! But we both definitely agreed that they wanted to make Charlie more of a dick than needed throughout this whole season. Maybe these writers really wanted more drama, especially Manx family drama, through Charlie acting worse? Not so sure. Either way, it gets on my nerves, and it’s almost inconsistent with the narrative they want to spin. They keep going back and forth with “Charlie’s so sad” (which, I would agree, he is, but they even mess that up and somehow still make him look worse) and “Omg he is the worst person ever.” I hope I’ve explained myself well enough in this area, it’s a very complicated and convoluted topic that has me conflicted and annoyed myself.

I think most importantly, the thing that annoys me about all of this Manx family drama the most is: How tf are they gonna “live normal lives” and “escape?” Millie grabbing onto the ornament prevents her from disappearing, which really doesn’t make sense. I’m sure they’ll clarify it next episode, but how is she gonna become a woman and live a normal life? For Christ’s sake, Charlie can barely understand the modern world as an adult man! You think a kid like her is gonna truly enjoy it or understand it? I have my doubts on this and how they’ll write all of that. Plus, she’s a vampire! If she returns human and all the other kids do when their ornaments break, and this is something that confuses me even in the book... where will they go? Oh yeah, they’ll somehow find normal lives! Honestly, it would make more sense to have them move onto the afterlife. Are they gonna keep them human and alive to make them the stars of the show? That possible concept of, “Oh, the kids are gonna be the stars of the show now!” No, writers... just no. Nobody is gonna care about that. Again, it’s a possibility, and it’s a possibility I’m not thrilled by personally. I don’t want them to be the stars. They can be awesome supporting characters, but not the main focus. Idk man, I’m just saying right now, I’m not so sure how this whole concept is gonna work and I fear how they’re going to write it.

Next up: Wayne’s shitty behavior. Wayne is acting like a really big asshole, and it’s getting on my nerves. “He’s now a vampire!” I hear someone say. “Of course he’s acting this way!” Yes, but the reason why it’s especially annoying is because Vic keeps trying and trying to get the point across to him, and it’s all for nothing. We know Vic’s opinions and her heartfelt feelings for her son, and she ends up having to repeat herself when she might as well be taking to the wall. What’s the point? Filler? We already know Vic’s determination is strong. In the book, how Wayne was acting was better. He held onto himself, but he also didn’t, but Vic’s words managed to get across to him quite a few times throughout his journey. This would’ve been much better on screen, but the writer’s were like, “HA HA NOPE!” The scene that really angered me: what was the point of Vic making her speech (which was really nice btw) only for Wayne to not listen... you’d think that’d be the scene where he changes, but the writers decided to turn it into a shock value filler moment (similar to Chris’s death, which, btw, all this nonsense is making his death for near nothing). And, let’s not forget my question from last week.. where is Craig in all of this? Hmmm... guess he decided to take a vacation from helping his biological son, because he’s just gone! Why?! What was the point?! He better at least appear next week, but even then... too late now, buster! Probably should’ve been here earlier! I mean, for real, what was the point of Craig’s character at this point? What a waste of potential...

The worst part imo from this entire episode: Okay, so the writers make Charlie an even worse villain, even giving him those subtle sadistic undertones even as Vic is trying to talk to Wayne (alright, I get it, there’s that element to “saving” Wayne that’s vengeful when it comes to Charlie, but it’s honestly just too much darkness; it’s almost out of character, especially when it’s in a scene like this. I get it, he likes the idea of getting revenge on Vic, but does he have to be THIS dark? That laugh he gave was funny, yes, and I couldn’t help myself but laugh just because of how stupid it sounded, but looking at the reason why he laughed... if anything, he would’ve stood there with a smug smile and say something like, “I told you he loves me more.” They make him way too dark and it really takes away from the fact he is a villain with moral code, but these writers have seemingly forgotten that with the exception of the one scene in episode 7 where he condemns Bing’s rape. Of course, the rapist might be getting a redemption arch anyways, not Charlie, but uh... moving on from all that past shit!). Yeah, as I was saying, they make Charlie darker. Okay, let’s forget my opinions on that for a moment: the characters have the opportunity to make him, this super evil and irredeemable villain, weak to the point he couldn’t get up at all... But Maggie stops him from being in this state? WHAT?! That shit is very out of character for her, and it’s very out of character for Vic to just stop! Vic would’ve persisted, and if the roles were reversed, Charlie would’ve persisted. That’s the thing about them both: they are persistent and protective about their kids. Why did Vic need to stop? “We need to find your son!” MAGGIE! You’ve both tried multiple times already! Focus on Charlie when you have the chance! How stupid are you two?! And better yet: Why would Vic drop the weapon?! She would’ve grabbed it!!!! What the hell is this shit?! I can’t even express how stupid this is... I get you can’t exactly kill him, but you could make absolute certain he would be subdued and unable to even have the chance to get up and grab his weapon. But nope! They need to attempt for the thousandth time to save Wayne in the exact same way, when it has shown not to work. You’d think they’d at least attempt to think of something else, even if their options are limited, but nah, we’re gonna do something very out of character instead... why?

Things aren’t looking too good for Maggie, so I have to ask: is Maggie gonna die? And if so, that is beyond fucking stupid. They set up the potential for a plot with Tabs and Mags for the third season. I didn’t pick up that they officially broke up, rather just separated for now, and... for what?! If she’s seriously gonna die, I’m gonna be extremely pissed. That wasted potential and insult to her character would be so fucking stupid. Yes, she dies in the book (in a different fashion, and it’s probably not that great how she goes there either), but look at all they’ve done for her character, especially giving her a girlfriend, a character that’s become even more important. Her death would be questionably more insulting here for sure!

Overall, while there were things I liked about this episode, I am majorly disappointed and concerned for the future of the series. I’m afraid it will take directions that are not good, and if it does continue, I am afraid it will be a living dead show of sorts. I think the only true way this show can carry on and be good is if all our main most important characters (Vic, Maggie, Charlie, Lou, Wayne, and Tabs) are all alive. Now, Vic and Charlie might be the only exception to this, just because they both do die in the book, and although even that is rough and not the best, it is expectant and I think this show can still be good with Maggie, Lou, Tabitha, and Linda taking care of Wayne (I’m not gonna go into the potential with Millie in this scenario because that’s a rocky topic lol). But if this show follows the path of TWD, where we have a whole new cast of characters you’re not really gonna care about and all the old cast you got to know and love is just gone... that’ll be the cherry on top of this shit sundae. I am excited for the concept of exploring the world of other Strong Creatives, as many rumors speculate the next season will contain, but if the show that explored the world of zombies failed by getting rid of pretty much their whole old cast... what about this show? They’ve already messed up quite a few things I don’t like this season I’ve discussed before, and if they go the route of doing anything that can get worse... I can’t describe how disappointing it would be. Not saying things have to be perfect or my way all the way, but it has to be generally good and enjoyable for everyone. Growing attached to a cast of characters only to erase many of them and focus on a new one is not a way that is good and enjoyable for everyone. AMC: This happened with TWD; for the love of God, don’t let it happen with NOS4A2.

As I said in my last review: let’s hope next week is better, and AMC, for the second time in a row, doesn’t deliver a disappointment of a show.

[ultrahamilham]

You tagged me in a thing and I had a stroke, bless you

I get all Pikachu meme whenever I see you in my dash and you've referred to me and acknowledged my existence because it is literally the best thing ever, I have a mini stroke every time

Three ships: Jamilton, Jamilams and Jamilmads (would've said lams but then it just sounds like I'm saying the same ship in three different ways lol)

Last song: Uhh, I don't listen to music much, but Ultimately by Khai dreams

Last movie: The Hunchback of Notre dame

Currently craving: Sushi, oddly enough (I haven't had it in about nine years but still, want)

Currently reading: The Da Vinci code, and about five different fanfictions

About a very late answer to your question (My family has COVID, which is shocking to hear, or so I'm told, but they're recovering and they fortunately had a mild case and no one has any history of disease so they're going to be okay! That's what the doctor said and I'm praying), Taco hell made me laugh really hard when I read it and really lifted my spirits because I remember being in not a great place when I started it but it made me smile which was like, a thing for me, and don't judge me but I think The three way was probably my favourite and I don't want to think about what that says about me but it was really because I love works that are that long (around 50k is always my sweet spot). I'm not sure if I'm remembering right and I'm so so sorry if I'm getting the title song wrong but that one Jamilton fic with uh, Gucci and fendi in the title was really fun to read ;-;

I also remeber the first work of yours I ever read was this comfort Whamilton around 1.5 or 2k where it starts raining and Alexander is on edge but George comforts him- Okay, I'm ranting now, apologies. ;-; (idk You're super cool and I want to talk to you like, normally, but you'll hateee me and I don't want that and so here)

I never really get a chance to respond as soon as I'd like, BUT I never get to and if you don't want to know/care about my life- please skip to the next paragraph thank you. So, I did end up watching Snowpiercer! I watched all ten episodes in one day which is iffy to say the least, but I'm still alive! I did love it. And I've been alright- a bit anxious with everything, but I've been giving my tests and uni and stuff. Yesterday, I was about to go to the vet when u realised about two minutes into the ride that I forgot my dog so that was embarrassing. Almost competing with the time I dropped my phone and then followed it, dropping to my knees and immediately bursting into tears (Nothing even happened to my phone!). So if you read this, thank you again.

I wanted to ask how you were doing too! If you don't mind xxx

And as for the fanfic writer asks, would you mind answering 50 ;-;

Wgjfvqkcwkh also I heard about you and Henni getting married so CONGRATULATIONS that is the most amazing, sweetest thing and in honestly so f*cking happy for both of you. I audibly awwed when I saw that post and I can't believe I just remembered.

I'm so sorry this got out of hand with how long it is, I didn't mean for it to be ;-;

-shy anon, sincerely apologising for possibly ruining your day by oversharing and/or overstepping (also with love and congratulations for you and her)

I get the surprised pikachu face whenever you show up in my ask box ;-; It always makes me happy!!!

Okay but sushi is always good. The craving comes randomly for me as well. I didn’t crave it at all when I used to make it for a living, because I got so tired of it, but now I crave it every once in a while lol it’s really good ;-;

I really hope everyone is doing okay! COVID is scary and it’s no joke. Having it before was horrible for me and I would never wish it on anyone. I hope everyone including you is okay ;-;

I’m glad Taco Hell did what I was meaning for it to do! It’s meant to be lighthearted and make people laugh. It’s based off of my life and it’s actual situations I end up in all the time. It’s quite amusing lol

I would never judge you. The Three Way is literally the one fic I am most proud of. I could never judge you. I literally go back and read it every once in a while and go like “I made that... Holy fuck...”

Oh! Gucci Not Fendi is the title. I’m glad you liked it!!!

Rant all you want! I adore that Whamilton fic ;-;

Seriously, my dear, I can promise you that I won’t hate you at all. Believe me, I really won’t. I’m probably the most awkward and annoying person anyone will ever know and I overshare like everything. People know more about me than they really should.. Lol

I care about your life, I was the one that asked you to tell me! But honestly, snowpiercer was soooo good... Like I tried to binge it all in one day but I was trying to write as well and it didn’t go over well lmao, snowpiercer ended up winning! I’m really glad you watched it!!!

That whole forgetting your dog thing is a mood. Today I forgot to turn on the food heaters and I realized it right before it was too late. Almost lost $200 worth of meat... Oops... Lmao

I do that with my phone if I drop it even if it’s okay. I just freak the fuck out and cry before I know if there really is an issue

Also I’m doing good! I decided to just lay back and relax tonight so I’m having a few drinks and I’m gonna watch random shit lol I was up for 33 hours the night before last and slept for 15 hours after. I can’t recommend doing that, especially not when you’re like 24. I’m too old for that shit.

Hell yeah I can do 50! I will give you a sneak peak at the 3rd part of the three way... .-. It will be posted on Oct 19th!!!

Here it is. This is seriously NSFW lol:

Alexander looked down at Thomas and ran the fingers of his free hand through Thomas' hair. He licked his lips as he watched Thomas work his tongue expertly inside George. "You're such a good boy Thomas, you're already wrecking him." He purred. 

Thomas let out a low moan and kept up the work, getting a little more aggressive. Alexander could feel himself getting hard in his pants at the sight coupled with George's shameless moans. Alexander looked back at George's face and grinned a bit. "Are you proud of us, Daddy?" He asked. 

George pressed his forehead against the headrest and panted as Thomas wrecked him. He tried to push back against Thomas to no avail. "Fuck… Y-yes… Yes you two did so good… Please… Please do as you wish… Whatever you choose, do it… I will take whatever you give me, you de-deserve it…" George bit out desperately.

Alexander grinned in delight at that. He looked at Thomas who looked just as excited from what George just said. He then touched Thomas' shoulder. "Alright, that's enough babe. I'm going to stretch him, then we can give him a good spanking. Why don't you undress for me? I have a little treat for you." He purred.  -END of the preview.

Thank you so much! We are so freaking happy that it’s happening. We were planning it more today! It’s so amazing ugh.

I appreciate it all the same! It’s not too long for me at all!! Don’t you worry my dear <3 you didn’t overstep at all!

[serendipitous-magic]

Question Game - AKA Oversharing Hour

I was tagged by @the-angry-pixie​! And I’m a chronic oversharer, so this was fun. I’ll put most of it under a read more line because there’s a LOT.

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? 

Black. Dunno why.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? 

City city city city city city city city. I’m already going fucking batshit as it is, trapped in suburbia. I want to be able to actually do things, anything. Anything other than just being around the house and / or work. (And I felt like this before the pandemic started.) If you live in the city you can walk out your door and be somewhere else within like 5 minutes. A city park, a cafe, a train/subway, a local attraction, a museum, an artist’s booth, an outdoor market, etc. etc. 

Living in suburbia is like, well, to go literally anywhere you have to get into your car first and drive like 10 minutes minimum to get out of the neighborhood, and then if you want to go anywhere that’s not the grocery store you have to drive 20 minutes to get to another area of town, and then once you get there that’s the only place you can be without getting into your car again and getting a nice shot of anxiety from having to drive in traffic and have aggressive drivers roar up on your ass because you’re going 5mph above the speed limit and they want to be going 15mph above, and god help you if you have to merge, and oh by the way this is your only option to get around because public transit doesn’t really exist in any useful way in Big Suburbia, and nothing in within walking distance of your house except like 2 playgrounds and maybe one (1) gas station. (I hate it here lmao)

If I was trapped in the country I’d probably be chill with it for about a week, and enjoy the break, and the on day 8 I’d snap and go on a murdering spree out of stir-craziness.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? 

I want to learn German and eventually be fluent in it. But since I’ve already started trying to learn and I don’t know if that counts, I’ll say cinematography. As in the actual working of the camera and lighting and all that. I can dream up some pretty striking images but actually getting the camera to do the settings needed to capture them is another story entirely.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? 

Nope. I drink coffee and tea both, and I don’t put any kind of sweetener in either of them. I used to put a shitton of sugar in my coffee and honey in my tea, and then I had some mild eating disorder struggles in college and I never got back in the habit of putting stuff in my hot drinks after that. It just tastes wrong now, after being used to plain black coffee.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? 

Either the Harry Potter series or The Hobbit. My grandma would take care of me a lot when I was really little because my parents both worked full time to support us, and every single time I was at her house she’d sit us down at the dining room table and read something to me. Not Junie B. Jones or anything, either, but real, big, thick books. I loved the shit out of Harry Potter and The Hobbit; I would request them repeatedly. We pretty much went back and forth; we’d read Harry Potter, and then The Hobbit, and then when a new Harry Potter book came out we’d read that, and then The Hobbit again, and so on and so forth.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? 

Showers. I love baths, they’re magical, but ain’t nobody got time for that unless it’s a special occasion. I got too much shit to do to spend an hour lying in the bathtub.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? 

Vampire. Purely on the basis that if I was immortal maybe I’d finally have time to get my to-do list done and accomplish things. I’d miss the sunlight though.

8. Paper or electronic books? 

Paper. Here’s the thing, I really want to enjoy ebooks, but they just don’t hold my attention at all. Maybe I’m too conditioned by the internet to have a short attention span when I’m looking at a screen, idk.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? 

I have a dark gray hoodie from the Seattle Aquarium from when I went on a road trip across America with my BFF a few years ago. It’s still my absolute favorite thing. I also enjoy my hiking boots a lot. (I wear them all the time, really they should just be called “everyday boots” haha)

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it?

I like my name and I would also like to start going by something different. Probably just because I’m a restless soul and I feel the best (and least trapped) when I’m on the move or when things are changing. The second I get somewhere I want to be somewhere else. That’s just how I am. Gwen is a cool name (I’ve personally met maybe 3 people in my whole life with the same name, face-to-face), but there’s a lot attached to that nickname that I don’t necessarily want to carry with me when I eventually escape my hometown and start down a new path.

11. Who is a mentor to you? 

A friend and former professor whom I usually refer to online as Producer Man. He’s a producer (as you may have guessed) who kind of took me under his wing after I was in one of his film classes in college. We work together on film projects now and he’s teaching me bit-by-bit (usually by way of long, rambling, tangential stories / lectures) about the industry. He’s a really good guy. Like, he for sure has a case of Old White Guy sometimes, but his heart is absolutely in the right place. “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.” He’s always leaving $10 tips at coffee places and working himself to the bone to get his students connected to jobs and internships that will help them with their careers. 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? 

Yes, my stories. Actually, “famous” is not the right word. It’s just that fame is so tightly associated with success in our society. I want to be successful. Whether I’m widely known or not is pretty inconsequential to me. I want to make stories and I want them to have an impact. Books, film, etc. It’s about as simple as that.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? 

Oh yeah. I have trouble  sleeping as much as I should because I usually kind of jerk awake in the morning with this vague feeling that I forgot something or that I’m late for something. Also I stay up later than I should because I’m a night owl, and yet I like being up early because early mornings are great. And usually if I dream at all it’s something kind of stressful, like I dream that I forgot something important or did something wrong. I’m a Stressed Bean. 

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? 

I think so, yeah. I’m pretty obsessed with the idea of romance (I mean look at my OTPs), but heteronormativity got me fucked up enough that I’m bad at actually navigating real romantic feelings or relationships because society never prepared me for The Gay.

15. Which element best represents you? 

Fire, probably.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? 

My mom. We fight a lot and there tends to be a lot of tension between us. It’s a long complicated story. It boils down to, she really hurt me when I came out as not-straight at 15 and she lost all of my trust and even though she’s working on being less homophobic we’re still kind of trying to repair that divide seven years later.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? 

Dude, I miss everyone. I’m an introvert and I’d love to be at a big party right now. I miss socialization. (As does everyone.) 

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. 

The first time I experienced deja vu, I was about eehhh 6? And I legitimately believed, for several years of my life, that I had future-predicting abilities. Like, supernatural-level future-predicting abilities. Because I didn’t really know what deja vu was, so I thought, every time it happened, that I had already ~seen~ that moment in my dreams or something. 🤣

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? 

Hm. (My immature ass brain yells “DICK.” No, brain. Those were dark heteronormative times. Also, grow up.) 

Probably some of the sushi in Seattle. I actually love sushi, it’s just that when it has full-on legs and eyeballs I start getting a little squeamish. I like the rolls and the kind where there’s some fish meat laid out on a nice little bed of rice, that’s delicious. But when they brought out the whole shrimp with legs still attached, I was like “How in the (redacted) am I going to chew / swallow that.”

20. What are you most thankful for? 

That I happened to be living with family when this pandemic hit. I was supposed to move out (and across the country, actually) as of... like 4 days ago, as it happens. That was the plan. Plane ticket was gonna be booked for 7/15/20. Obviously, things didn’t quite work out that way, because of the pandemic and a few other reasons. But I can’t imagine if I had been in an apartment living with roommates, or in an apartment on my own struggling to get by, when this happened. A lot of people couldn’t pay rent and lost their homes. I was very, very lucky to be where I was, when I was, and very lucky that I have family who let me stay in their house pretty much indefinitely while this clusterfuck of a year happens.

21. Do you like spicy food? 

Yes! I looooove spicy thai food especially. I miss the massaman curry from a local Thai place so much 😭

22. Have you ever met someone famous? 

Um. Maybe? I met Veronica Roth once at an author talk in the library where I work, although it was before I worked there. And I met some guy from New Zealand who’s famous for his sword fighting skills because my dad does sword fighting stuff. Don’t remember his name though.

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? 

Yep. I have to write down everything or I forget. (I often say I have the memory of a goldfish.) Also, I have this compulsion to record and preserve my experiences in life, because I feel like our time on Earth is so fleeting and if I don’t write down what’s important to me, I’ll forget it and lose it.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? 

Pen. Pencil gets smudged.

25. What is your star sign? 

Scorpio, which is ironic because they’re supposed to be ~hyper sexual~ I guess, and I’m like gray-ace or something in that zone.

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? 

Crunchy. Who eats soggy cereal? Are you okay? Do you need help? This is an intervention. 

27. What would you want your legacy to be? 

My stories. Life and sentience, as we experience it, is made up of just that: experience. And I read somewhere that, on some level, the human brain doesn’t differentiate that much between real life experiences and fictional experiences. I think that’s true. If you read or watch or hear the right story, it can really touch you and change the way you see life, or even change the way you live life. Stories have an incredible amount of power, both in individual people’s lives and in larger society. A huge amount of power. I want to be able to give people experiences that will Enrich Their Lives (do I sound like a lifestyle coach yet? 🤦🏼‍♀️), but also stories that actively do good in society. Positive representation, body positivity/neutrality, diversity, healthy relationships (Hollywood has a real problem with that). Hope. It’s the best thing I can think to give society, and storytelling is what I love to do.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? 

I love reading. I wish I did it more. Part of my problem is that I get caught up in the hectic Rat Race of modern society and I never feel like I have time to sit down with a book for hours. Another problem of mine is that I start too many things at once, meaning I currently have like 5-10 (I lost count) books that I started reading, and I want to finish all of them, which means no progress ever gets done on any of them.

I last finished The Goldfinch, and I am currently working on The Secret History, Good Omens, Dune, a book my dad wrote, Directing Actors, Shot by Shot, The Way of Kings and I forget what else.

29. How do you show someone you love them? 

Physical affection, acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time, and gifts, in that order. If I’m close to someone, whether romantically or not, I want all the affection. And I’m kind of dying in quarantine. 

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? 

Depends. I usually don’t put any in, because it’s just gonna water down the drink and get in the way of drinking it (you know when the ice attacks your face?), but I don’t really mind ice in my drinks.

31. What are you afraid of? 

Helplessness. I Have Control Issues. ✌️ Also stagnation.

32. What is your favourite scent? 

Amber. Or any scent that’s kind of autumn-y. You know what I mean. Some other examples include dryer sheets, wood smoke, cigarette smoke (my big sister used to smoke a long long time ago, and although I never saw her do it, I still associate the scent with her), pine resin, rain, that Mahogany Woods scent from Bath and Bodyworks.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? 

If they introduce themselves as Pam I call them Pam. If they introduce themselves as Mr. Brown I call them Mr. Brown.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? 

 If “money is not a factor” means I have an infinite amount of money to spend as I wish, then: buy land, build film studio complex on land, found company, hire fellow creatives, make movies.

If “money is not a factor” just means that I don’t have to work 40 hours a week to afford rent, then: move to Chicago, rent a nice studio apartment, write stories, maybe work 15 hours a week at a used bookstore or coffee shop to get me out of the house and socialize. Go to museums, go to the park, walk along Lake Michigan, go to gay bars, ride the train, brave the Illinois winters, own a cat, paint, play guitar. Build my actual career on writing / storytelling. Probably also do some filmmaking.

Alternatively: buy an RV (not like an American Trailer Park shitty RV, I’m talking the NOICE ones), buy good film equipment, be a freelancer, live in RV driving around to wherever the next filming location is. Life is a road trip and I’m doing what I love. Writing, storytelling, filmmaking. My home would travel with me. Writing in cafes; roadside attractions; early mornings on the road with coffee in the cup holder as the sun comes up; being able to go anywhere to film; always experiencing something new.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? 

I’ve lived in a landlocked state my whole life, so I guess swimming pools. And, listen, I CANNOT get water in my mouth at the beach without wondering exactly how many kids have peed (or worse) in that water. (I know that’s a thing with pools too, but pools get cleaned.)

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? 

Wonder what some poor European is doing in America right now. But if it was $50, I’d probably yell “DID ANYONE DROP THIS?” and then take it if no one speaks up.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? 

A few times, yeah.

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? 

Grades are not the end-all-be-all. Skip some homework assignments to spend time with friends. Skip class sometimes. I’m serious. If you make school your top priority, even over your own personal life, you will come away with good grades and a lot of regret and missed opportunities. Learning is HELLA important, and very very little of it happens inside a school building. Get a 15 hour weekend or after-school job in high school, befriend your coworkers, and have fun with it. Use your paychecks however you want. Join a school club - one that you’re actually interested in. Do stupid shit. Light your textbooks on fire after graduation or go to the 24 hour Wendy’s at 2am with your friends or kiss that person you met at summer camp or sleep on the porch because it’s too hot to sleep inside. Be smart and safe, but follow your whims. If you let yourself fall into routine, apathy will poison you.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? 

I already have a couple small ones, but the one I want next is a four-leaf clover. Don’t know where. Maybe my right inner wrist or maybe an ankle. Or like behind my ear. Luck has saved me so many times. (See above, with how I happened to be living with family when COVID hit.)

40. What can you hear now? 

Swamp cooler downstairs, the clock ticking in my office, cars outside, people moving around the house. I’m surprised the neighbor kids aren’t shrieking their absolute heads off as per the usual. 

41. Where do you feel the safest? 

When I’m alone and unobserved. 

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? 

TMI warning, but I absolutely despise public bathrooms. How am I expected to pee when there’s somebody sitting like three (3) feet away, with only a partial wall between us, hearing everything that’s going on? My fight or flight response simply will not allow it. It’s too awkward and therefore Not Safe. Either that public restroom has to be empty except for me, or it has to be so loud and bustling that ain’t nobody hearing anything. Anything in-between and I’m in hell.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? 

The ‘80s. Let’s be honest, even that far back makes my life (as a woman, and as a gay person) hella difficult. But, consider this: it’s the ‘80s. Furthermore, consider this: a part-time job might have actually supported me and paid rent back then 😱 Holy fucking shit. Sign me up. I just wouldn’t want to go any further than than like 1980, because again: lesbian. Being a woman in the past = even harder than it is today, being gay in the past = even harder than it is today, being a gay woman in the past = oh no.

44. What is your most used emoji? 

In order of descending frequency:

😂🙄😊😁🤦🏼‍♀️👀😬🌈🤷🏼‍♀️😙

45. Describe yourself using one word. 

Creative

46. What do you regret the most?

Wasting my entire teenage experience. (See #38.) I did quite literally nothing with my life except homework for like 18 years. If I had taken even a tenth as much time for myself as I did for school, I would be so much farther along as a person today.

47. Last movie you saw? 

In the theaters? ........ uh. Shit, I don’t actually remember. It’s been like 5 months. (As it has for everyone.) But the last movie I watched was Lights Out, because I’ve been watching the director’s youtube channel. You could tell it was low-budget and that the director was still kind of finding his stride, but it had a lot of heart behind it and the creators clearly gave a fuck, which made it enjoyable. I am firmly in the camp of “not everything has to be a Magnum Opus or have a multi-billion dollar budget to be a good movie.” If I engaged with it and got some sort of emotional experience out of it, and if it had a good message, I consider it a good movie.

48. Last tv show you watched? 

I don’t usually watch a whole lot of TV shows (who has the time?) but I think the last thing I watched was either The Witcher or that new Unsolved Mysteries miniseries on Netflix. Oh and I was watching Dead to Me because I just love Linda Cardellini’s face and I want to wrap Judy up in a blanket and cuddle the shit out of her and protect her from all things 🥺 My precious beautiful unstable sweet murder baby.

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. 

Apapanic. It’s where you’re so stressed about things that half of your brain is panicking but the other half is so overwhelmed that it circled all the way back around to being calm to the point of apathy, so you just kind of sit there like

[sharkfish]

ps i loved this one

(rereading bookmarks edition)

i’ve been rereading stories from my bookmarks as a comfort thing. i’m getting real deep in there to stuff i haven’t (re)read for years, and damn do i have good taste. the ones i’ve read recently that you should, too: 

(under the cut so i’m not that asshole that makes you scroll past an endless post) 

A Change of Scene by SurlyCat

When Dean goes over to see his Dom on Christmas Eve, he isn't expecting Cas to play naughty Santa, and neither of them is expecting how it turns out for them.

ooooomg fuck me up with that sex to lovers thing featuring bdsm. yessssss 

A Room of His Own (or not) by Valinde (Valyria)

Dean took a deep breath and reassessed the situation. He was in bed with a guy, sure, and technically they were snuggling, but it was Cas. The guy had absolutely no reference on what was appropriate physical contact between two dudes sharing a bed in the... normal, completely unsexy, no-funny-business, way.

cas is fallen, dean is confused (what else is new), A+ cuddling. that’s the fic. 

Boys On Film by LoversAntiquities @tragidean​ 

But maybe that’s what it is—maybe Castiel’s finally realized something Dean is too chicken to admit, despite the fact he’s been jerking off to the idea of Castiel fucking him for the past few weeks. The idea warms him as much as it pains him to think about, his friend not being able to talk to him about something like that. That has to be it—it’s the only explanation. Castiel likes him.

“Or maybe he knows you do cam shows.”

Dean chokes on his burger.

idk what to say, i love a good sex worker fic and here you go. @tragidean​ is always here with that first-class content. 

Castiel's Angel by Valinde (Valyria) @valinde​

The angel took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. He was fidgeting Cas noticed. Usually he was so bizarrely at ease in his human form, lounging around and tossing winks and smirks at anyone with a pulse. That more than anything had Cas straightening on his stool and wishing he was a little less tipsy.

“Ineedyoutogroommywings,” Dean muttered in one long, almost unintelligible, string. He was blushing.

all my fellow wing hos should flock* to this fic. i also love me a good switcharoo with angel dean (and hunter cas, as this is an alternate canon universe). and dean gets all claim-y, which is also my jam. 

*this was unintentional but a pretty funny joke 

For Science! by pm_lo 

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

i believe this was the first abo fic i added to my bookmarks. story time: many, many moons ago, i kept track of my reading list. i was doing that “50 books a year” thing so it was mostly for tracking that, but i had another tab for fics, because i read few enough that i could track them. i rated things and sometimes left notes, and by all the abo ones i was like “don’t tell anyone i read this.” yes, i shamed myself for liking abo. it was a dark time in my life.

anyway, then i read this, and was like, all right i can see what’s going on here.

this is a great fic for multiple reasons, and the format is one. it’s written as dialogue-only transcripts from their experiment. it’s hard to make that kind of format work, but pm_lo ain’t fucking around. 

Just a Stranger On the Bus by Amelia_Clark 

December 31 9:32 PM When Castiel boards the bus in KC, they think it’s empty at first—but when they toss their backpack onto an aisle seat and climb in after it, there’s a muffled yelp from the dimness at the back of the bus. They turn in time to see a man in a faded Carharrt jacket, sitting up and yawning as he rubs sleep out of his eyes. The man’s hair is greasy and matted down on one side, and there’s drool on the side of his face; nonetheless, he’s ridiculously good-looking.

“Hey man,” he says. Castiel does not correct him. “This can’t be Chicago.”

the non-binary tag, just like the trans tags in general, are a house half-built and left to rot in the rain. even if that wasn’t true, this series is goddamn amazing. also there’s rimming. also there’s a line in there that said something like “they don’t dislike their body, it just never felt like theirs” and i had a lightbulb moment irt my own experience. did dean ever wear carharrt in the actual series? if not, mistakes have been made. 

Just Turn Around and Go by PorcupineGirl @porcupine-girl​

Dean should be happy. His best friend and housemate of five years, Castiel, is moving out to live with his boyfriend, Balthazar. Dean's career is going great, so he can easily afford the house on his own now. This is just growing up, moving forward to the next phase of their lives.

It would be awesome, if he weren't in love with Cas.

Well, here we go, he thinks as he opens the refrigerator and digs around for sandwich supplies. First day of the rest of your life. Time to move the fuck on. As he slams his meat and mayo and pickles down on the counter, he considers adding the bottle of whiskey he knows is hiding in the cabinet, but decides that he has enough self-respect to wait 'til five. Then he'll get fucking blackout drunk. Yep. Awesome.

y’all, do i even have to say anything about this? roommates to friends to a pathetic amount of pining without saying shit to disgustingly in love. also i think i cried, but i’ve been in tears so many times in the last week, who’s to say. 

Plus One by ceeainthereforthat @ceeainthereforthat​ 

Castiel Novak might have to attend three weddings in two months, but he’s not about to let his brother play matchmaker. His family’s Internet streaming company is too important to let a relationship steal his time, but he knows exactly what to do–hire someone to pretend to be his boyfriend.

Dean Winchester has worked five-star hospitality long enough to know how to fit in with Castiel’s crowd, and this job could score him the connections to make his acting career take off. It’s a business deal, no matter how they’re drawn to each other. When the lines of their contract start to blur into real feelings, can they withstand Castiel’s family and jealous fans working to split them up?

there are a lot of great fake dating stories out there, but this one takes the cake (or, at least, a slice of it). also, i cried a lot rereading this, both “ohhh god i love their love” tears and also “ohhhh god this hurts so bad” tears. 

Should've Just Asked by Annie D (scaramouche) 

Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.

they’re both oblivious idiots in love, cas is grey-ace, dean’s a total dork, it’s all just very lovely (and frustrating in the way oblivious idiots can be!!!). 

PS - annie d is writing marvel fic lately and i’m sure it’s fantastic if you’re into that kind of thing. 

Support Your Local Gay Beekeeper by Powerfulweak

It’s not like Dean goes on Grindr very often, just when he’s bored and alone. The blue-eyed guy's profile reads "Beekeeper, 29, 5'10, Single, I watch the bees." Dean is intrigued. He has to send a message.

this is a series that starts with some great phone sex and then goes on to very, very awkward sex injuries. a goddamn cringefest that had me in complete horror imagining it. but it’s fun! they persevere! people so rarely write about Sex Going Wrong and i love @powerfulweak​ for taking the bullet for us on that one. 

Take Me Home Tonight by Persephoneshadow @persephoneshadow​

“Come on, we’re finding you someone to…engage with sexually or whatever,” Dean explains, chancing another swig of beer before going on. “Anyone in this bar, no limits, who would you would be your top choice to bang?” “Well, you, ideally.” Dean spits out some beer before collapsing in on himself, legitimately choking this time. “Excuse me?!” ---- Or the one where Cas wants to have sex and Dean is there to help.

your classic denialist “i’ll be your wingman” turning to “actually imagining someone else touching you makes me want to punch someone.” which is dumb, because cas actually wanted dean all along. 

Words with Friends by betts

"Dean Winchester is as straight as an arrow. He’s a lady’s man of epic proportions: the king of the one night stand, the messiah of the friends with benefits paradigm, the emperor of perpetual bachelorhood.

Except, apparently, when it comes to his best friend, Castiel Novak."

***

Wherein a longstanding acquaintanceship leads to friendship, then best friendship, then sexting, then dirty talk, then mutual masturbation, then, inevitably, fucking.

look i think you’re always in good hands with @bettsfic​. but this one has some good sexting and phone sex right at the start, which i’m totally into, and then it gets even better. cas is a lil bossy, by which i meant to say he’s the kind of bdsm geek who has equipment installed in his bedroom for sex purposes. 

You're The Only Stranger I Need by lyndsie_l

When Castiel receives a text from a stranger, he finds himself engaging in conversations daily. He's drawn to the outgoing college student and longs to interact with the other man as often as he can. Slowly, he finds himself falling in love with the other and can't imagine ever meeting a more beautiful person.

The only problem?

He's never actually met this other man.

be still my heart! a long distance/texting/phone sex thing! i want to read it again right this second. cas is such a cool nerd, dean is a brat, it’s a good time all around. 

if you enjoy these fics (and you should), please give the writer some love via kudos and/or comments. <3 

ps - as always, if i didn’t tag the writer and you know their tumblr, please tag in the comments. i don’t think there’s a writer alive who wouldn’t be happy to be on a rec list. :) 

[izzy-b-hands]

Quarantine Tag Game

Tagged by @dabitchisback thank you!! I needed something to get me through this very slow morning of work!

Under a cut because y’all know I’m a wordy motherfucker lol.

Are you staying at home from school/work? 

Yes I am! I actually requested to be moved to work from home in part due to the COVID-19 stuff and due to some coworkers behaving like high schoolers and flat out bullying me (and I had had enough of that shit once it started making it hard to do my job lmao.) 

So just as they were setting it up for me, the clinic suddenly started realizing how serious this was and all of a sudden, they could find all the money for all the work from home equipment for a bunch of us in the non-direct patient contact side of things (funny, considering I’d begged to work from home over a year ago due to how bad my anxiety was getting with coworkers and patients when I was still in the direct patient contact part of it all, even offered to pay for the equipment, and was told it would always be too expensive and never be in the cards, even after my therapist recommended it for the sake of my mental health and blood pressure. Funny. that. Real funny.) 

If you’re staying home, who’s there with you?

Mostly my cat, Nisha. My mum works at the same clinic, but is front desk, so they’re rotating who goes in to the clinic and then who gets days off “to keep the financial health of the clinic” aka begging anyone who stays home for a day off (or in my sector who takes a day off due to reduced call volume) to take that time unpaid and not use PTO or EST...but we both have that time to use, so it is Being Used or we won’t be able to keep the lights on or the condo lmao. However, she does have assigned days off coming up, so on the weekend and those days off, my mum is here too. 

Are you a homebody?

Ohmygod yeah. The older I get, the more I dislike going out in general like. I work a full time job, I barely have time for chores or relaxation after, even now being work from home because scared patients asking you questions you can’t answer or don’t have an answer to (because no one has answers right now) just...idk how to explain it. But it gets weirdly exhausting, even though it sounds like it shouldn’t, and by the end of my 8 hours I just wanna lie on the floor and nap usually. So going out has never been my thing too much, because then my writing/chores/nap time gets neglected lol. I don’t mind the occasional appetizers and drinks night with mum and her friend, back when we could go out, but tbh it’s just nicer still to drink at home. Even on vacation, I go out more than usual, but also if there’s a night we can drink in the hotel with the mini bar, and just enjoy being somewhere other than home...I will take that night in a heartbeat. 

My anxiety also doesn’t love going out, but I’ve been working and getting better at dealing with that. Of course, current times might mean a bit of a setback, but I’m going to work really hard for it not to be too bad. I haven’t been in six years of therapy for nothing lol.

An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

Um...does my root canal count? And I wasn’t really looking forward to it per se, I just am afraid of the tooth getting worse and starting to have worse pain. 

Other than that, it hasn’t been cancelled yet because we’re playing it all by ear (but I admit I’m afraid it probably won’t happen due to the virus stuff, even if it’s over by the time this thing was supposed to happen), but I have a trip to New York City planned with a good friend in August. Even if things have calmed down, I know New York has gotten hit extremely hard, and if they’re still fighting with the aftereffects of it all...might not be fully open for business by August so to speak. And besides, with everything as it is right now, and the talk of a vaccine being at minimum over a year away, with periods of possible social distancing needed even if this calms down but possibly goes through flare ups until a vaccine is ready...travel might not be back to normal for awhile, I can’t say more than anyone else on that I suppose. I’d really like it to be, by August, I admit that as selfish as it is. I was just really looking forward to it, kind of living for it even, and now...yeah. 

But, better to be at home and healthy in the end, travel insurance exists for a reason, and trips can always be rescheduled. 

What movies have you watched recently?

Haunt (Mum and I never got to see it when it was in theaters), Queen Rock Montreal (my go to oh no I’m sad movie), Tammy (a fave of mum’s, and we both just like Melissa McCarthy in general), and Jojo Rabbit. I’ve got a bunch I bought and rented just last night too (maybe not a smart financial decision, but I’ll deal with that when I have to lmao), since it feels smart of have a backlog of stuff to watch right now.

What shows are you watching?

Mostly rewatching the IT Crowd, the Office, Travel Man, and other tried and true faves. It helps mum to relax since she loves all those too (including any episodes of 8 out of 9 Cats Does Countdown I can find, I finally got her hooked on that!) Basically if it has a chance of Richard Ayoade or enough episodes to keep us going for a bit, then it’s on the list to watch.

What music are you listening to?

So many. No, but legit, I’ve been all over on Spotify as of late, especially searching for music to help the fic writing. A lot of Queen, Elton, Clams Casino, The Weeknd, Kendrick Lamar, David Byrne, Childish Gambino, St. Vincent, and Moses Sumney especially.

What are you reading?

Fanfic, trusted news sources like AP, Reuters, updates from WHO, wanting to reread Mercury and Me and Elton John’s Me, and really need to get back into reading And The Band Played on by Randy Shilts (started it right as shit started to get wild, so it got put to the side, but I want to finish it asap.) 

What are you doing for self-care?

Trying to enjoy that this is also the trial time to see if I want to make work from permanent (work is making me make it a trial, I’ve wanted to work from home for years so...yes is the answer to that lol) and what I can do now that I’m home, like work more on my writing and music. Not to mention, eating foods that normally upset my stomach/I have sensitivities to like meat and dairy (I might be developing straight up allergies to them, but we all know I can’t afford to see an allergist lmao) but that since I’m safe at home where I be sick and still work...I can indulge. I can also play music more and movies so long as I pause them if I get a phone call during work hours, so overall I’ve been a lot more relaxed and my BP is down during work as a result, which is something I’ve never really felt before in my life, and I’m rather enjoying. 

Aside from that, video games have also made a resurgence in my life, especially Saints Row, and that’s been fun as well. 

All of this in between taking care of Mum of course, who worries and panics, and tends to believe everything she hears and reads and watches without thinking critically or carefully, so...that’s been a thing. 

Actual therapy appointments would be my best self care of course, but the last few have been cancelled due to everything going on. This week, however, my appointment is supposed to be done via telecommute and I should finally get to catch up with my doctor, which I admit I need pretty desperately right now. It’s getting hard feeling like I’m on my own, helping soothe others but struggling to soothe myself most of the time. But, c’est la vie, right?

Tagging (if y’all feel up to it and wanna!): @skylinepigeon, @freebooter4ever, @bearkare, @rathernotmyname, @galaxy-starheart, and @youdontrememberthesomme