#like the jokes and stuff are world building. im getting a better view of the average civilian in the mcu I LOVE IT!

[the1975attheirverybest]

i really enjoy your fics but i geel like i view your blog moreso as a space to interact? so whereas on someone elses blog i might send in a gic idea to you im like how are you what have you been up to ect so not that i would do it to anyone else because i know how youre doing im not gonna be like where are the fics 😡? - 🐸

Awwww 🥹💗 thank you! This is really, really sweet.

No, I was half joking, haha. Like, I am constantly blown away by and in awe of my fellow fic authors on here, who clearly pour their heart and soul into building a whole world for their readers imagination. So I definitely get the, like, urge / impatience. Cuz I, too, am a fan of them. But yeah, sometimes we gotta give them space cuz they’re humans too and they have a whole life outside of fanfics. I wouldn’t be so bold as to put my silly little one shots and concepts alongside what they do! That’d be diminishing their effort.

And I’m so glad you’re here to interact cuz I genuinely love hearing from you all the time. Like it really warmed my heart to learn about your experience with Homer during the academic term, and I’m glad you got to see AM, and had fun at prom and stuff. Like it makes me happy to get to know more about the coolest fuckin people in this fandom. Cuz I just think people who like the 1975 are genuinely awesome humans with good taste. So having you here is better than anything I could’ve hoped for!

[bigskydreaming]

That last reblog is very informative and useful in figuring out where to find certain storylines. Purely on a personal recommendation note, for anyone looking for good reads and who tends to like my take on things, my recs from that list (and not saying that others I don’t rec aren’t good, just what immediately popped into my head) would be:

Batman: The Long Halloween (yes. its a good)

Batman: Birth of the Demon (if you want to set canon on fire, as many people are wont to do, a good place to start is aggressively ignoring Morrison’s take on Damian’s birth and origin and instead treating this story as his origin and just building off the idea that Talia lied at the end which is waaaaaaaaay better and just like...go from there)

Batman: The Killing Joke (kill it with the fire. we’ve had enough of the killing joke. it can die. even alan moore hates it and he wrote it and alan moore usually loves everything he writes and hates everyone ELSE for like, liking it the wrong way, so I mean, that should tell you a lot)

Batman: The Cult (holy shit I totally forgot about this story and now am off to go reread it again myself)

I have Issues with how ADITF AND A Lonely Place of Dying play out and most popular takes on them, so like, I’m not like, recommending RECOMMENDING them, but I mean like, they are pivotal.

Batman: Knightfall, Legacy, Cataclysm and all things No Man’s Land related have some good stuff throughout all of them. Like, things I don’t like, sure, but overall, there’s a lot of good material in them. Also, a good way to get a strong sense of actual canon Tim, who is not fanon Tim, and who would probably take one look at fanon Tim and go LOL nerd, and kickflip away on his skateboard to go tell Nightwing about this AU version of himself he just met, as like, he actually likes and respects Nightwing, among other differences.

JLA Tower of Babel (its a yawn from me, lads. the source of pretty much all “Batman can beat all of the JLA because he has the greatest superpower of all: PREP TIME!!!” hot takes and I mean, yeah that’s pretty core to Batman and who he is at this point, but the story itself its just like. Eh. Could you not. Idk. Basically I just mean this is all part of an era of JLA that for the most part I actually tend to LIKE Bruce’s interactions with the rest of the team, but then there was this and it was just like. Eh. Could you not).

Bruce Wayne: Murderer? and Bruce Wayne: Fugitive (Quality reads IMO that emphasize the Detective part of the Batfranchise and contain good moments for the whole currently present Batfam, lots of great Cass and Dick stuff in particular. Idk. I havent read them in awhile but I have fond memories)

Batman: Hush (this gets a bad rep and not entirely deserved IMO. Like, its not the greatest story in the world but I like how it portrays Bruce as having flawed dynamics with a lot of his loved ones but not shying away from his role in that but also without overly vilifying him....he’s an appropriately complex character in this, is what I mean, and I also like that this is another story that emphasizes the often lost-and-forgotten Detective part of his core concept. Also, it utilizes some of my fave villains in ways that bring home how much potential certain combinations/team-ups of villains could have if they were utilized more instead of overlooked in favor of ITS TIME FOR THE JOKER AGAIN WHEEEEEEEE!)

Batman: Under the Red Hood (hahahhahaha no. like could you imagine me reccing this? LOL its not realistic. Nah, stick with the animated movie retelling. At least Bruce doesn’t slit his son’s throat in that one to save the damn clown again)

Batman: R.I.P (I reluctantly rec this not because I like it, cuz I don’t, its Morrison back on his bullshit in a most I AM THE MOST GALAXY BRAINED OF ALL THE GALAXY BRAINED AND ALSO IM A CHAOS MAGICIAN DID U KNOW THAT HUH DID YA DID YA, like, fashion. Its. A lot. The story is A Lot. I don’t say that in a complimentary way. BUT I recommend it anyway out of pure stubbornness and Dick Grayson fanboy spite, as its set like, directly before Bruce is believed dead and gets lost in time, and like, A LOT happens to Dick in that story that SHOULD BE extremely relevant and crucial to examinations of his mental and emotional state at the time of him assuming Bruce’s role in the family and as Batman, but that just like....ISN’T, and that annoys me. Also, the primary villain of this, Dr. Hurt, like.....

his grand endgame involved torturing the fuck out of Dick to hurt Bruce specifically, and pretty much the first thing that happens when Bruce DOES come back from being lost in time is Dr. Hurt pops up out of nowhere and shoots Dick in the head, like FIRST THING, like this is the absolute first thing Bruce has to deal with when coming back, and this is just like....NONEXISTENT in most fics about that era. Because lolol how can we blame Dick for everything that went wrong and make Bruce be mad at him for how Dick wronged Tim and Jason and all of Gotham probably, if we’re going by actual canon and thus dealing with the fact that Bruce is preoccupied with hovering over his just-shot-in-the-head-specifically-to-fuck-with-Bruce son’s bedside and WORRYING about him. LOLOL hashtag Fandom Willfully Erases The Majority of Dick’s Canon Traumas Not Because They Want To Set Canon On Fire - they’re usually fine with sticking to every instance of canon in which Dick does something even in the ZIP CODE of wrong - but rather because if we acknowledge Dick’s traumas then eww, he might come across as....sympathetic? No, we can’t have that. ERGO HE WAS NEVER SHOT IN THE HEAD HAHAHAH WE FIXED IT, WE FIXED CANON).

But I digress.

Battle for the Cowl (another reluctant rec because like, its dumb and its bad, but its one of those things that I’d still rather more people read than didn’t, because like it is pivotal and relevant, and it contains key plot points like oh Idk, Arkham literally blowing up as all the currently locked up inmates escape, which led to Dick having Wayne Enterprises rebuild it himself, and like, the only villains present in it when he was Batman being the villains he and Damian CAUGHT while he was Batman, which did NOT include the Joker, and thus all the hot takes about how Dick locked up Jason two doors down from his murderer like the uncaring bastard that he is, like.....instead of the reality that Dick pulled strings to have Jason put in Arkham instead of Blackgate when the POLICE ARRIVED ON SCENE AND LOCKED UP THE ANONYMOUS RED HOOD BECAUSE HE WAS CLEARLY DEFEATED AND CLEARLY A WANTED CRIMINAL AND THUS LIKE, HIS IMPRISONMENT LITERALLY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH DICK OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT DICK DEFEATED JASON RATHER THAN LETTING HIM KILL HIM AND DAMIAN.....

like, its literal canon that Dick explains himself for having Jason put in Arkham instead of Blackgate because it allowed him to keep Jason OUT of gen pop where he had literal dozens of enemies that he, Jason, WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR PUTTING THEM IN THERE HIMSELF, and it was to keep Jason SAFE, and it WORKED as Jason’s only actual canon complaint at that time was that he was BORED. So in conclusion, AS ALWAYS, you can do what you want, but when you literally manufacture the fake fanon - and completely fail to make any effort to establish that this is NOT actual canon and that you’re not actually riffing off of an actual canon moment - that Dick callously locked his brother up a few doors down from his own murderer (the dude that Dick himself literally once beat to death because he killed Jason).....like, inquiring minds would like to know, why are you trying so hard to make Dick look like THIS MUCH of an asshole, hmm?)

Batman: The Gates of Gotham (a weird, but fun little read IMO, that delves deep into the backstory of Gotham, the Waynes, and also Dick’s ancestors the Crownes, and establishes a lot of the history revolving around all of the above, and like, it actually has Dick as Batman and being competent and respected by the rest of the family in that role, and its also one of the only times Cass and Damian interacted one on one, stuff like that)

Batman and Robin Eternal (eww no, kill it also with the fire, burn it, I hate it, uggggggh why is this series so praised, its so baaaaaaaaaaaad, its like what if literally every character involved in it is an asshole to Dick for no valid reason whatsoever.....huh, weird thought, wonder if the fact that its so praised as being so good and Dick’s so hated for weird reasons by a lot of fandom are connected....almost like.....the fiction influenced how people viewed his character....and thus....critical commentary of how the fiction was bad is....relevant....HMM I MUST PONDER THIS STRANGE AND NOVEL THOUGHT).

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon back again. I had a sort of writers block for the last like 2 days which made it really hard to do some questions, but I got em done finally. Sorry about the wait. This one is split between the numbered questions, and next ask is the other questions you asked!

I think I accidentally skipped a question in the last one. I honestly don't completely remember but in case I did skip it by mistake, the groups first travel out of the city's limits and even further beyond in a carriage. When they reach the end of how far the driver is willing to go they then get out and start walking. With Jackie screaming about how their finally going on a adventure. 

1: It thankfully doesn't get to to bad before the others notice. And he immediately told them about Dream, wanting to be very clear with what happened and what they where getting themselves into. But they accepted him anyway and helped him. 

2: Isaac is the leader cause Cletus is too much of a wildcard and too impulsive to lead safely, Charles is too shy to lead, and while Benjamin is perfect for leading he doesnt really like leading and is more of a follower than a leader. But Isaac can joke around and gets along with everyone but also be able to take things seriously and know when something needs to be handled.

5: They do not, they last for a few minutes and unless its a healing or regeneration potion (in which it can take a few days for it to fully go away) they have no long lasting affects. They do know of eachothers past to an extent, they know enough to avoid triggers and enough to know what not to do when around eachother. They know through telling eachother, and they feel awful Grievous and Jackie had to deal with that, but leave it in the past and focus on making their current life better. 

6: Yes and no, while Jackie did mean to throw it at Ran, he ment for it to just hit nearby him, not directly hit him. It was ment to be more of a scare/intimidation tactic than anything else honestly. Grievous's luck is for basically everything, he has won the lottery twice before actually but only those 2 times, he's correctly guessed how many items are in a container more than a few times as well. 

7: I use the height charts and they help mostly for comparison, problem is I have trouble applying it to real world stuff and because of that I still have trouble knowing if something or someone is to tall or short. Jackie can get very mean, like he can make fun of someone who just lost a loved one or experienced a traumatic event at the worst. But he usually doesn't get nearly that mean, most he does normally is making fun of how someone looks or how they do certain things. The others comfort him the best they can when he gets sad, and when he gets mean they either encourage it (Grievous), or discourage it and stop him (Watson. Ran is between either encouraging or discouraging it).

8: He was! He spent most of his life adventuring actually! He misses it somedays now since he lives in Subbin, but he believes giving up his adventuring life for a family and friends who needed him is a more than far trade and would happily pick his family over adventuring again. For around 4 years after Ran left Mizu (including the day he left), Ran traveled everywhere, and learned how to survive himself and taught himself different things, like sewing. Ran has made new socks, fixed clothes, and made blankets for everyone at least once. Watson also designs bows and arrows for show, for top functionality, and for just simple (training) gifts to the others. Ran (and Watson) has visited the nether, though Ran tended to stay in it longer than Watson cause he could withstand the temperatures better. And while digging a new tunnel across the nether he ran into ancient debris, which he then messed with until he figured out to mix it with gold and coat his sword in it. He tried to find more ancient debris but sadly hasn't found any, leaving his sword permanently damaged and at risk of breaking. Jackie isn't good at all at painting, its more of a hobby he's trying out. They try to camp out there at least once a week, where Grievous will sometimes build a pillowfort and either force everyone inside or play a game of capture the fort with them. Sometimes Ran will also read during the pillowfort nights, but not to often. Jackie wants to vist a Snow, Savanna, Jungle,  Tagia, and if possible, a Ice Spike biome. He also wants to vist the nether but he'll have to fight Ran on that. Ran and Jackie's secondary titles are in Javanese!

9: Ran just kinda went "Hey Jackie, stand still for a second." "Ok?" And then he just picked him up and threw up. 

10: When he's first given dinner after already eaten lunch, he just kinda stares at the food. Then asks if they meant to give him food, and when the others say yes, he asks why because he thought people only ate once every few days. His answer shocked the others and they ask him to explain, and he explains futher that he was only allowed to eat and drink once every 3 days. Their horrified by this answer but explain to him how theres 3 meals a day and he can drink whenever, he doesn't believe them at first but eventually accepts it. 

11: When the fishermen first come to Ranbob about their worry, he expresses the same worry as them. But says that it's unlikely Ran will hurt the fishermen specifically, because Rans haunting are already friends with them, and Ran wouldnt risk breaking the friendship unless he deemed it necessary for their safety. 

12: Ranbob is sad that Ran goes to such lengths to avoid him and keep people away from him, but he has resigned himself to it. As he knew that if Ran was alive it was greatly unlikely that he would trust him and knew he would be avoided. Which is actually particularly why he believes Ran will never trust him again and why he views Ran as a kind of lost family member. One he'll never get back no matter what he does.

13: Their first stop is a nearby flower biome, and after that Watson has planned to lead them to a waterfall he found with a shattered Savanna somewhat close to it. They plan to travel for a minimum of 6 months, they can actually travel for as long as they want to, but Prokius made them agree that they must be back before the next General Pit Battles (which happens once every 5 years). 

14: He would 100% run himself into the ground until he's barely alive while searching for them. Benjamin compares Ranbob wanting to go back to Dream, to an abused person wanting to go back to their abusive lover. They believe they've changed and that they truly do love them and want the best for them, but in reality that's not it at all and others have to help them see thats not true and help them save themselves. So it doesn't surprise Benjamin or Isaac that much (it surprises Charles and Cletus though), and after its explained to them, their all more than willing to help Ranbob get over Dream and help him be himself again.

15: Oh definitely. Once they hear the Green-Eyed Enderman is back from hiding they all set out again, and after the group gets attacked and once word spreads that its in a group and there's another enderman with them, they all get targeted. With the Gladiators and Fishermen being targeted as bait or hostages to try to trick the enderman into following a trap. Ran wasnt affected like his brother was. Im talking about trauma and maybe even a bit of PTSD that came from Mizu, caused by Dream. Though both of the brothers have gained different amounts of trauma and PTSD from Dream. I may give the raven to either Watson or Ran, I think its fits both of them really well. I want to have them come across ruins of other Tales but im not sure which ones. Maybe they could find the remains of the Wild West Tale and the Haunted Mansion?

Glad to see you, Brothers Anon, and excited to read!

1: The perfect start to an Adventure. And a funny mental image. Imagining these two groups cramped into carriages is pretty amusing. How ready was everyone to get out by the time they could?

2: The fishermen are really great, and Ranbob is very lucky. I love them.

3: Isaac sounds like he’s a pretty good fit for it then. But nobody’s perfect! What are some flaws of his, leadership-wise?

5: Interesting. What makes Regeneration and Healing last longer? I suppose it’s not relative to the AU, but I am a bit curious. What’s the world’s potions mechanisms, if you don’t mind me asking? And that’s good! They may not know everything, but they know what to avoid, and that’s important. Everyone’s moved forward and are making the best of life, and honestly, that’s pretty cool of them.

6: Welp, Jackie, it seems intimidation tactic failed. However, you have managed to anger Ran, so..there’s that. He won the lottery? Dang. Well, if they ever need money, they can just send him to the nearest casino, I suppose.

7: Aight, so I may have a solution for you there. Whatever height you’re going for, find something in real life that’s just about the same height. Like a tree, or something. Or not, we can always just leave it at short enough to be tossed and tall enough to be the tosser. Jackie sounds like he knows where to hit to make it hurt, honestly. It’s good that they comfort him, though I am curious why they all react as they do to him being mean. Why does Grievous encourage it? And is it more of a depends on the day thing for Ran, or a depends on what was said to Jackie, and what Jackie’s saying thing?

8: Nice! What kind of places did he go? Does he have any particularly interesting knickknacks from that time period? And Ran personally sounds like he knows what he’s doing. Watson’s weapons sound really cool, where did he learn to make them? Is visiting the Nether not a common occurrence these days? Or is it simply that the others never got around to it before? Well, hobbies are always fun to try. Does Jackie keep at it and get better or get bored and try something else? How does Capture the Fort go with these guys, considering they’re gladiators? Why does Jackie want to visit those particular biomes? Is there a reason, or do they just sound cool to him? And why would Ran not want them going to the Nether? Because of the danger?

9: FDXGHJ- He just- tossed him?? No warning?? Oh my gods, I’m dying. How did Jackie react to that? Heck, how did Porkius react to that? I doubt anyone was expecting that display.

10: Oh, no. Now I really want to punch Dream in the face. What the heck, Dream?! He legit asks if they meant to give him food...If one of the fishermen or gladiators doesn’t eventually find a way to punch Dream, I will be forced to travel realities and do it myself. 

11: Kind of sad that Ranbob was equally concerned about it. But hey! He won’t have to be, one day!

12: Poor Ranbob. I hope he’s proven wrong, eventually. Do the fishermen know that he thinks this? If so, how do they feel about it? Or does he kind of just keep those thoughts to himself?

13: Flower biomes are really pretty. What did everyone think about it? Did they bring any flowers with them? So this roadtrip could possibly go on for a few years. Did they leave just after a General Pit Battle, or do they have like, less than five years? Speaking of General, is Jackie still the General in this AU? Does he have extra duties because of it? Or is that not something that happened in this AU?

14: Yikes. Reactions to this? Why does Ranbob believe Dream’s changed, as you put it? Is Dream still able to talk to him, or is it because he just misses being there? So Benjamin and Isaac aren’t all that surprised about it. Do they take the reins in helping out? And how do they all do so? It’s good that they’re helping him though.

15: Well, this sounds like it can’t end well. They try to use the hauntings as bait? Is anyone actually captured? Rescue missions? And alright, that makes a bit more sense. I can see how they’d both be effected differently, and honestly, they’d probably both have very different perspectives of the event, all things considered. Ravens for the win! And it’d be really cool for them to come across the ruins of old Tales buildings. Can you imagine the kind of things they’d find? Diaries, faded photographs, moth-eaten clothes, blood stained floors...Like a walk in the past, but they’ll never know what came to be for the people of that time.

[nightowlfandom]

Anime! Fictional! BTS x Real World! Reader- Welcome To My World~ Episode 1

HEY HEY! IM SO EXCITE! Btw who here plays BTS World? This is very loosely based off that.

I need to download it again tbh.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

What does it mean to escape? To get away. If it means leaving behind all you know, all you’ve been raised to know, all you’ve been led to believe, with just yourself and the clothes on your back. Scary, but thrilling. Terrifying, but inviting. Unbelievable, but definitely possible....

...

On a early Tuesday morning where the sun was barely grazing the orange sky, you sat by your windowsill. You were dreamily staring out into the halo that was a mixture of red and orange. The halo of greyish clouds matched your mood to a complete tee. The aesthetic beauty of nature wasn’t enough to make you smile or even blink twice, however. It was always like this though. Yet something about this scene made you go sour.

Releasing a sigh, you stepped away from the window, shutting the curtains. Another day, the same thing. All you could do was attempt to power through.

As you lazily pulled your shirt over your head, you had managed to dodge that annoying dog. The little brat wasn’t even yours, but your oh-so loving step-sister’s. He always had a affinity for making your room a hot mess.  Only yours in particular. 

“Get out of here you little-.” you chased the dog out of your room, slamming your door as it scurried off. “What did you screw up this time?” you curiously scanned the room. Everytime that little fluffy beast rammed his little head into your personal space, something would end up broken, ripped, shattered, or completely destroyed beyond repair. 

You almost screamed when you saw a familiar book cover on the floor. You instantly dropped to your knees, praying to yourself that it wasn’t true. The cover had a pretty violent looking rip along with the first few pages. 

Your absolute reason for waking up in the morning was tarnished. A signed cover of BTS Universe Issue #1. Probably your one and only favorite series on planet Earth. You gingerly picked up the book, trying to inspect it with hopes that the damage was minimal. As little as this was, you almost felt like crying. However there was no time, you needed to tape up the pages and fast! Who cares if you missed breakfast.

...

“Morning Y/N!” Your step-dad greeted you in the kitchen. “You were upstairs an awful long time, I was about to send your mother to see if you were still up playing that game of yours!” he smiled warmly.

“Thanks Mr. Chai.” you replied politely. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“You know...Y/N...you could call me Dad.” he set a plate down on the table. “I know I’m not your father, but I want to be the best father-figure for you because I know...you haven’t really had that.”

You had to stop yourself from saying anything else. You haven’t had the best parental relationship, and your new step-dad really was trying. Maybe it was just his daughter that drove you nuts.

“Thank you.” you replied, smiling. “...Dad.” you winked, making finger guns. “Geez! You made a lot of food for just the four of us”

“ Well you ain’t see muffin, yet!” he winked. “You and Nari have a busy day today. She auditioning and you, my friend....well I don’t know exactly what you have planned for the day.”

“I’ll tell you if we can skip the food related puns.” you sat down at the table. It was a rule that everyone waited for everyone else. Even though you had taken the extra time to repair your copy of BTS Universe, you had seemed to be the first person down the stairs. In all honesty, you were just going to hang out at the comic store until Nari called to tell you she was done.

“Hey now, Donut kill my vibe!” he continued, laughing. “I have a million more of these, come on. Don’t go bacon my heart, Y/N.”

“Good job Y/N, you’ve gotten him started.” You mom came down the stairs in her little blazer and pencil skirt. “Whatever will we do now.”

“He did it himself, the guy’s an animal! You married a wild child, mom.” you joked. “He might just be a serial killer.”

“Don’t you mean...cereal killer?” he held up a box of Raisin Bran to make his point. You could only shake your head as your mother and step-father laughed together. Food related humor so early in the morning had to mean today wasn’t going to be a horrible as it started, at least for you.

“WHERE ARE MY THIGH HIGH BOOTS!” you heard a screech from upstairs. “THEY BETTER NOT BE IN YOUR ROOM, Y/N!”

“...WHY WOULD I WANT TO WEAR YOUR SHOES!” you yelled back after taking in a deep breath. “NARI, IF I WANTED TO BREAK MY ANKLES, I’D HAUL MYSELF DOWN THE STAIRS.”

“When will you two get along?” your mom shook her head. “It’s been three years.” 

“We don’t not get along.” You shook your head. “Not my fault she’s difficult.”

“I can think of a few times you’ve been difficult yourself, young lady.” you mother pointed a stern finger at you. “Like when you locked yourself in the room to read that silly cartoon of yours.”

“It’s not silly.” you defended yourself.

“Oh come on!” Nari’s voice voice could be heard alongside some loud footsteps. “I think it’s cute to be honest. Y/N here actually has a hobby besides stalking celebrities online.”

“Shut up, Nari.” you grumbled. “And keep your dog out of my room! He ruined my signed copy of BTS Universe!”

“Dorie got out again?” she seethed, looking annoyed. “I really have to put a bell on that dog.”

“Yeah.” you sighed, you bummed mood returning. Everyone knew just how much you loved that edition. You kept in in a super special display case, you cleaned the case every week, you kept your other issues on their own bookshelf along with your figurine and digital visual novel editions of the series. You were even on the buyer’s list for the special early anime release. You LOVED this series. Not even Nari dared to disrespect something as important as that, and she loved getting under your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find another one.” your mother set down a bowl of cereal in front of you along with a muffin. “Now eat, you have a big day today.”

“Yes mam.” you replied, helping yourself to some cereal.

“If you want, you can take a muffin or bagel with you.” your step dad said. 

“Dad! I can’t, I have to be super focused remember? Breakfast will just slow me down!” Nari scoffed.

“Not having breakfast will make it even worse, dummy. Dude, you’re gonna pass out on stage.” you threw a tiny cereal piece at her. “Eat something.”

“I’ll eat later, I just have my eye on the prize and nothing is going to stop me.” Nari stood up determined. 

“Will you at least eat some toast, crazy girl.” your mother said. “Y/N’s right, you need to at least have eaten something to calm your nerves. Y/N make sure Nari eats something before you two go your separate ways.”

“I’ll try, no promise.” you shrugged. “Nari, if you’re done, then get your stuff and let’s go.” You promptly finished your cereal and went to go back upstairs. “You got ten minutes.” 

“What’s her deal?” you could hear Nari ask, followed by an sudden whispering of your mom stating exactly what she thought was wrong with you. Your bet was on ‘everything’.

You walked back into your room, grabbing your purse from your desk. You eyed your taped up issue of BTS Universe #1. There was no way you were going to find another issue like that, and that damned dog just treated it like a loved toy. You grabbed your phone and shoved it into your purse. You went over to where the issue was and placed it on your desk. 

“NARI LET’S GO!” you shut the bedroom door behind you as you walked out the room. 

...

You sped to a stop outside the building. Nari was shaking in her shoes. She seemed hesitant to even open the door. 

“Call me when you’re finished so I can pick you up.” you said, getting ready to unlock the doors.

“You’re leaving me!?” Nari looked like she was about to explode.

“Hello?! It’s idol trainees only?” you raised an eyebrow. “I can’t go in there with you. Nari what’s the problem?”

“...Um...I’m nervous alright! I’m giving up almost everything and if I don’t get chosen...I’ll just prove my dad right. I need this.” she stared down at her hands. “I’m not used to being a reject. I don’t know how you-”

“You wanna leave here with two working legs, I suggest you don’t finished that sentence.” you cut her off. “I’m not a reject.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. I’m saying I don’t know how you deal with nerves like this.” she looked like she was gonna pass out. 

“...You just do.” you nudged her shoulder. “You just go for it and hope. Go for it.”

“...Okay, I’ll try.” she opened the door. “...Thank you.” she stood up. “I’ll call you when I’m all set.” she shut the door. 

“I’ll literally be at the store around the corner.” you replied before driving off. You watched in the rear view as she took her sweet time going into the building. 

...(Later on)

You trudged behind Nari as she ran through the door. She seemed happy, so that must have meant the audition went well.

“I’m gonna take a nap.” you called to your mom and step-dad. “See you guys at dinner!”

You didn’t wait for them to reply before you closed the door. As you walked over to your bed, you noticed a disc laying on your bed. Just a random DVD. The closer you got, the font on the front got clearer.

“BTS World?” It didn’t look familiar in the slightest. “It’s called BTS Universe, Nice try Nari.” you wrote it off as a stupid prank by your oh-so-loving Step-Sister. It was only then you realized Nari was with you all day. 

You took another look at it, gently taking it in your hands. It looked like it was glowing. 

Call it curiosity, but you needed to know.

Your laptop was sitting at the edge of the bed, so you put the disc in. 

“State your name.” a voice came out of nowhere. 

“What?” you looked around in shock. The voice sounded like it came from right behind you.

“Please state your name.” the female robotic voice repeated. 

“Y/N.” 

“Are you sure that you want Y/N as your name?”

“Um Yes?” you raised an eyebrow. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

“Would you like to start a new game? You don’t appear to have any saved filed under the name Y/N.”

Maybe you were sleepier than you thought, but you ran with it. “Yes.”

“Starting new game....now”

Your screen began glowing a bright blue, a vivid, saturated blue. It was like your screen had turned into a flashlight. 

“What the fu-” you suddenly stared at your hands, the very tips of your fingers turned pixelated. “MOM!!!” You tried to scream, only to have it come out in the form on an echo. You felt your feet leave the ground as tiny little pixels moved towards your computer. You could see the color draining from your walls, leaving everything white. It was like an earthquake ran through your room...only through your room.

Then...everything went dark.

...

(Why hello there...LET US PREPARE. I’m gonna go through with it this time, I swear on my bacon! The guys are coming next chappie!)

[mallowstep]

I'm interested in the math university stuff! What kinds of jobs can you get with a degree in math?

What are you wanting to do after university?

If you want to talk more about this, please ask on my main @mattieandmatter

You can do a lot with a degree in math, depends what kind. I mean that’s true of any degree. Do you want to do more math? Or are you looking to get a job? What kind of math?

I’m a pure math major, which is not what most people think of when they think of math. I hate that I have to clarify that but if one more person asks me how I’m a math major when I can’t do arithmetic I will Scream.

Anyway, I’m not really a great person to ask about jobs. My dream, since I was five, has been to work in academia. So everything I’ve ever done has been with that goal in mind.

So after university — I go to grad school, get a PHD, and then look to get a job as a professor. Not that that’s easy, but. I can hope.

Anyway, to be a good little math plug, studying math is about studying logic. Math is — a chaotic field. It’s about asking “what if?” and finding an answer, about asking “what about?” and finding an answer.

I have a very serious joke presentation about forks that features a system of fork notation and several forms of fork equality that’s a spoof on topology, but it’s also fairly serious.

And that skill set — being able to prove something, solve a puzzle, build complex theorems up from axioms, is a very useful skill. Your local math major is probably the kind of person who thought, “it sounds like fun to draw a graph of all of our friend groups mutual relationships to make event planning easier.”

(An example, for once, not taken from my own life. Just something I absolutely support.)

Anyway, pure math is great for logic. We’re very good logicians. Applied math is — well. I always say if someone says they’re an applied math major, you should ask, “applied to what?”

(No shade on applied math here, other than my usual not-serious teasing. It’s just a genuine question — what ARE you applying it to?)

But like I said, I’ve wanted to work in academia since I was a child. My earliest memory is my mom reading over her medicinal textbooks while I was coloring. I frankly don’t Know what other jobs are out there. Like I legitimately don’t know what most white color jobs are about.

What is an office job? What do people do in them? I don’t know and I’ve never stopped to find out. My entire family works in specialized industries. My mom’s a doctor and professor. My aunt is a social worker. Etc.

That said — I think math teaches you how to think in a very specific way. It’s critical thinking. I think the world needs more math politicians. We probably still wouldn’t get very much done, but it would be for a better reason than we didn’t want to break party lines.

As for math as an industry bc im sorry my brain is jumping around So Much — I will say, people think of math as introverted, but it’s very social. There’s some famous tea time stories, my core math class (university specific thing: there’s only 7 of us left but we’re tight) does problem sets together, etc.

We talk a lot. I find math majors tend to get on with engineers for the mutual fuck around and find out.

(Again, I’m speaking abt pure math. Applied math, actuarial science, statistics, etc., all tend to attract a very different sort. My view is colored for some personal reasons like my ex who couldn’t cope with his math major bf being better at math than him among others but it’s just a different vibe.)

I could ramble on abt my passion for math for ages, but warrior cats blog and also u just asked for post university plans and such. Again, I would Love to talk more but preferably on my main just for — organizational purposes. So I don’t have to feel bad abt rambling abt my thoughts on discrete math or comp sci or what have you.

So yeah, if u wanna talk more! Would love to! When it comes to — what do I do for a job? — im prob not the Best to ask bc my goal for my entire life has been to get a research position at a university, but I will gladly talk abt what math is like, study tips, my general anxieties abt the four semesters of analysis I’m staring down, how mad I am abt discrete systems, and my crippling fear of numbers that lead to a long email chain with the physics department bc everyone in the math department agreed with me.

And if you want like — to talk abt what kinds of math r out there n stuff, yeah! I can gladly help w that kind of thing. Again my main is @mattieandmatter and you can send an ask, or dm me if u want. Okay. I’m gonna shut up before I ramble on endlessly.

<3

[aquarius-hood1996]

When I'm With You - C.H.

Summary: Calum is on a much needed break when he meets the one person who can make him feel himself again.

A/N: This is inspired by the song I like me better by Lauv. The moodboard is made by me as well. 

To be young and in love in New York City

To not know who I am

But still know that I’m good long as you’re here with me

To be drunk and in love in New York City

Midnight into morning coffee, burning through the hours talking

Damn

Calum can exactly remember how he met you for the first time. He was on vacation. Finally seeing New York. Not being there to promote another album or having to do any kind of band stuff. This should be a way to lay low for a while.

A time he desperately needed. Already on the verge of feeling like he was losing himself a long time ago and not knowing how to turn back. The dark haired man knew how much he troubled his friends and mostly family with his behaviour recently.

But there was nothing any of them could do. It was not his family or friends fault. Being in the industry, everything was so self-centred and usually Calum did a good job staying low and keep his feet on the ground. Lately he recognized his own change and he didn’t like that at all.

So, he made the decision to take some time to himself and try to figure everything out. In his mind, there would be no better place than New York to exactly do that. It was the one place that did hold good memories for him. Something that was far away and still could feel like home.

It was Calums first night in New York. Just flown in, he decided to start off with having a night out. No party, just a little bar and a drink. After taking his wallet and key card leaving his room and making the way out of the hotel.

He walked for a while around the neighbourhood. Looking around and catching a few sights, taking mental notes on what he wants to see later before spotting an inconspicuous bar. All black and just with a little light but still homely. Exactly what he had been searching for.

It’s not a big one and there are not many guests as well. Everything is wooden, a counter taking place on the right side of it. Sofas are pressed against the light grey walls and in the middle is decorated with lots of tables and chairs.

Calum orders himself a beer and sits on one of the sofas that are standing in a corner. Being careful that not too many people can see him but him still being able to sit around and watch others. He would much prefer to stay incognito for a while. Calum knew that people in New York barely gave a shit but as of now he rather be safe than sorry.

Looking around the bar someone is catching his attention immediately. The way they leaned against the chair, strands of hair falling into their face while they seemed to be engrossed into the book they are holding. The sleeves of a black hoodie tucked over their hands. A bottle of beer standing in front of them.

The Y/E/C coloured eyes following the lines that are written, completely blacking out all surroundings. At least until they takes a sip from your beverage.

That’s when they catch Calum watching. A small smile gracing their lips and swears he can hear his heart stop beating, trying to catch his breath. Him thinking how stunning the person is. But at the same time shaking his head. He feels crazy for being so intrigued over a stranger at a bar. Sure he was no stranger for making friends that way. But it was usally when he went out with the boys to party. Not while he was sitting around basically lonely in a bar.

Little did he know that you feel the same about him. The brown coloured eyes watching them but in no disturbing way. As soon as he sees you watching, he turns his gaze somewhere else. A faint colour of red on his cheeks, making you chuckle over it. He is cute and in a way he also felt familiar to you but nevertheless very cute.

You turn your attention back to the book to the relieve of Calum. Meanwhile he secretly tries to steal glances at you, for whatever reason contemplating if he should get up and talk to you or if that would be just too crazy. He was never a shy person, always outgoing and down for an adventure. During the change and uncertain, Calum get nervous. He starts playing with his hands, trying to get his mind somewhere else. It doesn’t work. From time to time he still takes a glimpse back to you.

Both of them taking a glance at the same time and his eyes are switching fast enough to the empty bottle in front of him. That’s at least what he thinks until someone coughs in front of him. His eyes widen and Calums mouth slightly falling open when he sees you standing there.

A smile on your face and book in one hand, extending the other one to him.

“Hi.” Your voice sounding soft and kind to him. He stares for a moment before taking your hand in his.

“H-Hi.” He stumbles over the greeting.

“Soo. I saw you watching me and thought I would at least introduce myself.” He could hear the teasing voice and instantly turned a shade of red again.

“I-Im so sorry.”You interrupted him fast.

“Don’t worry, I saw you kinda, too.” Both of you laughing about the situation.

“Would you mind if I take the seat?” The brunette showed that he was okay with it and soon the conversation started to flow.

I like me better when I’m with you

I like me better when I’m with you

I knew from the first time, I’d stay for a long time, ‘cause

I like me better when-

I like me better when I’m with you

Turns out that you kinda did know who Calum was. Just in other ways he had thought. Having a cousin who was a big 5SOS fan, you were more or less forced to listen to some of his music. Being a fan but not like he had expected.

You were a pleasant surprise. The two connected in a lot of ways. It started from having similar interests, pet peeves as well the reason why you two found your way to New York. Taking time off to see a little bit from the world and find yourselves.

Both stayed the whole night together, talking, taking glances at each other and just enjoying each other company. Shy Calum dissappeareand for the first time in a long time there was his old self. Making fun, enjoying the time he was having without the pressure of maintaining a perfect imagine for the media or who knows what.

Calum, at first, was a little unsure because he didn’t know if he could trust you. But as time went on he started to feel a lot more comfortable with you. Starting to give him a safe feeling as the conversation went on. He knew he couldnt completely let his guard down, yet. But when time came around two in the morning and the bar started to close down he started to feel disappointed that soon your ways could split. He enjoyed the time and was not ready to let you go, yet. So, he took all of his confidence and ask your number which you gladly gave him.

It felt like a connection between the two, nothing to be named yet but nevertheless, it felt good. Both wanting to know more about each other and at least get to spend some more time with the stranger who gave them a close feeling.

I don’t know what it is but I got that feeling

Waking up in this bed next to you

Swear the room, yeah, it got no ceiling

If we lay, let the day just pass us by

I might get to too much talkin’, I might have to tell you somethin’

Damn

The morning after you two met, you went for a coffee in an 80’s inspired bistro. It was one of the funniest things Cal ever did. Talking about past, present, dreams, futures, jokes and all you two could think about. It felt natural, normal and all in all like you knew each other much longer than a day.

The week continued with both owalkingf you spending time together. Going through the Central Park where first his pinky would graze yours until his hand would hold yours. A smile playing along both of your faces. Calum and you would visit different sights. Seeing the Liberty of State, Staten Island or going to different museums or just spending time in their rooms talking.

Another Highlight was the Empire State Building. Both of you always wanting to go there. The view was incredible, but someone was more intriguing to him. You.

Leaning against a little bit behind, he watched how you took a few photos of it. He could imagine how you must be smiling over it. Just as you were trying to take another picture of the sunset, he slung his arms around your waist.

“Sorry.” He cheeky whispered with his mouth pressed against your hair.

Your sweet scent filling his nose and for a moment he closed his eyes inhaling it. He only had a few days left until he would have to leave New York and you. Trying to hold onto the time a little bit more, he didn’t want to go. Meanwhile you had turned your camera around and took a photo of you two together.

Calum opened his eyes, smiling into the lens before pressing a kiss onto your head. You looked up to him. Smiling at him before he lowered his head and pressed a short and sweet kiss to your lips. You turned around, your hands crossing over his neck before pressing him down to you and kissing him again. This time both of your lips pressing longer together, moving against each other.

He places his forehead on yours once you started to loosen the kiss. Both having your eyes closed for a moment to enjoy each other’s presence. Slowly opening his eyes, he sees you watching him. Taking all of him in. A huge smile not able to hide on your face. He smiles back. His eyes twinkling at you.

His hand cupping your cheeks. Before taking your hand and leading you down again. The sun has already set, and it starts getting cold so both of you decide to go back visit the dinner you went earlier the week.

When you two walk into the pink themed dinner, hands holding, the waitress is smiling. You two take a up a little pink booth in the back. Both ordering a coffee and a tea with strawberry cheesecake. As soon as the waitress leaves the two continue to smile at each other and Calum could swear he has not stop smiling since the night you both met in the bar.

When your beverages arrive, Cal can see you crinkling your nose over his. A small laugh escaping his lips.

“What is it now, love?” You force your eyes away from his tea, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment over being caught by him.

“I don’t get how you can drink your tea with milk.”

“I can’t believe how you can drink your coffee without it.” He teases. Grinning at each other before laughing about it. You cross yours and his fingers on the table and Cal swears he feels like so intoxicated by you. It’s the good kind. The one that makes him smile so hard and he can’t stop. His stomach tingling like there are actual butterflies or whatever people believe in.

He rubs his thumb over your hand, pressing light kisses on to it once or twice, while the two continue to talk over god and the world.

Stay awhile, stay awhile

Stay here with me

Stay awhile, stay awhile, oh

Stay awhile, stay awhile

Stay here with me

Lay here with me

It’s three days before Calum has go back to L.A. and he still feels like he is not ready to. Not willing to let you go, if he could ever at this point. It’s raining outside when he asks you to come to his room to spend the day. He doesn’t feel like exploring, just laying next to you and enjoying each other’s presence.

But you have other plans for him. Lying to him and telling that the clerk doesn’t let you in. Calum is forced to go to the entrance of the hotel. That’s where you are standing, waiting for him with an umbrella in the hand and a big smile.

He can’t help himself but to smile back at you. His jacket in one hand, pressing a light kiss to your forehead as he hugs You. Your arms naturally going around his waist. They are not leaving as he leans back.

“Didn’t you say, you don’t get in?” He teases you.

A smug smile on your face. “I lied.”

“Why?”

You press your hands against his sides.

“Because it rains.” A laugh escaping him.

“Love, hate to break it to you but I once lived in england. It constant raining there.” You playfully roll your eyes at him before crossing your hands behind his neck and pressing him down.

“Very funny.” Your lips hovering over his.

“You know what rain means?” He is intoxicated by your scent as you whisper. He wants to press his lips against yours but you slowly lean back.

“It means…” You continue before taking his hand.

“That we need to go dance.” Dragging him outside into the rain. Cal looks up to the sky and it’s pouring.

But it’s not concerning them. Their holding hands and just start dancing in the middle of the sidewalk. He can feel his hair even more curling and in the matter of seconds both are soaked. After what felt like eternity Cal stops you and presses himself against you once again. Holding your cheeks while slowly pressing his lips against your after giving them a little squish.

When both stop to take a breath and the maori man whispers

“You know what you remind me of?” You shake your head while he smiles.

“Home and I w-wanted to ask if y-you would like to come to L.A. with me?” Your eyes widen and her mouth falls open.

“Do you mean that?” You nervously asks.

“Of course. I only have a few days left but I’m not ready to let you go. I didn’t say it until now, but you make me feel incredible. I feel at home in your arms and I need you. If it wouldn’t be too early, I would say three different words.”

Calums eyes are closed, and his head is pressed against yours as he talks. He can’t see it, but your eyes are glazed over his words. You squish his cheeks back a bit before pressing your lips against his.

“Yes.” The brunette man opens his eyes at you, starts smiling and twirling you around.

Both laughing like little kids. They spend a while like this until running back into the hotel and Calums room.

I knew from the first time, I’d stay for a long time ,cause

I like me better when I’m with you (yes, I do, yes, I do, babe)

I like me better when I’m with you (ooh, no)

I like me better when

I like me better when I’m with you

Better when, I like me better when I’m with you

Now he is watching you, sleeping peacefully next to him. The next morning having already arrived. Having talked through a night again and falling asleep next to each other. He doesn’t know how it happened, but he feels like the kid from Australia again. Calum starts to feel like himself. Like he is content and happy with the world for once. If he knows one thing for certain than that he would onto it, hold onto you. For as long as he could. He truly liked himself better and only because of you.

[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.”

[heat0death0of0the0universe]

i gotta talk about Narrative Telephone

I. Fucking. Love. It.

when my extreme dislike of second-hand embarrassment takes a loud backseat i can fin so much that i love about it. 

but what i love most isn't the humor. or even the continued critical role content. no, i love the allegory and the metaphor of the whole concept. 

all my life i loved the concept of watching time move forward. seeing evolution, hearing language change, watching cultures rise and fall. but what i dont like is time and the fact that im along for the ride. id rather watch evolution, not be step 48801 of a process with no end. and sadly most media and general public doesn't like watching time change. no one wants too see how the English language evolves with a rise in Spanish speaking folks and pop culture creating new idioms and words. everyone would much rather watch something with the same animals with the same people walking the same cities speaking the same language, albeit maybe with a few more neon lights and holograms to make you feel like its in some vague ~future~. but narrative telephone gives me the change i like to see. i can finally feel like im watching a story going through the times and changes of a culture.

im gonna need to explain a little more. what better way than to show off all the current episodes.

episode one is simple, pumat and the big bad wolf. the sorry starts with pumat on a stroll through the woods. he finds a talking wolf and they fight. the story ends with the pumat eating a nice mushroom and wolf stew. but the changes to the story are what get to me. i love ashley, trust me i really do. but in this context, she’s basically the dark ages. everything crumbles and the story follows in the crash. this point is when the more brothers grimm tales and nonsense folklore are added in. people dont like the night, so the seen changes to match. suddenly the wolf not only speaks, but has a beak! the fighting through being somewhat vague in the original story now is lost to time and is none existent. taliesin builds off it, changing it ever so slightly from a garbled to a more of a warning story. a story that reflects a change in a cultures thoughts on the woods. when everything was all writings and giant building the woods where just a place to rule over and harvest, but after the fall now its returned to the unexplored. the place of fey and monsters that should never be explored at night. marisha adds winter and gives it just the smallest bit of added context. a man in the woods during night before might have been seen as mad or crazy, but a man scrounging for some mushrooms in a dead forest in winter isnt tempting fate, he’s struggling to live. a shift in view also makes it so that the beaked magic wolf is just as weakened by the winter, and is easily turned away by just a voice. sam is..something. if ashley is the dark ages than id say sam is like a renaissance. specifically a very drunk renaissance. the kingdom was risen and is filled with hubris and pride.its gained a very “man falls for his hubris” greek vibe to it.  pumat has gone from scavenging to walking unbothered by cold dead winter. the kingdom has lost its enjoyment of strange creatures, monsters are still around in legend, but most have been replaced with magical people, with a clear rise in “person in an animals skin” tropes. the original fight has been mostly lost, now the story is that of a magic hunter who eyes the mushrooms taken by pumat and gives a chuckle and permission to continue exploring the woods unimpeded. pumat eats just the mushrooms, which now have gained the lupine taste, and the vague description of “he became something more” giving the idea of some sort of curse for his nature. Laura has added back the wolfs anger, but removed the suspicion of pumat. the curse is still in the end of the story though. this could be a change into more of a forbidden fruit trope. because pumat still trusted strange mushrooms in a dead forest with a magic guardian, he paid the price. travis is a sort of close to modernization of the story. its the point in time when its nonsensical nature and magic was viewed as weird and convoluted.  similar to when we look at older myths with long intricate plans and think “nice story, but poor pacing”. liam goes for the “granddad telling stories by the fire” vibe. the tale has died down and is being co-opted for new use. now the rather dark tale has turned into more of a children's storybook with messages like not to trust strangers and to not do drugs being tagged on. 

ep. 2: jesters ability to say 1000 words a second. pickadors plume is a story in a story. a story about gaining a treasure through a complex and detailed series of events  with lots of loaded lore about the world with no clear description of what the treasure truly is. liam is the first few generations. the generation close enough to the original to try and remember, but not enough to keep every detail. the best example is of the ending, where the treasure should be. humans love rewards, so a story with a vague reward isnt enough for people. in liams generation transition to the griffon, travel, and fruit specifically being the treasure begins to lay its foundations. since this is already so long i will also mention that the transition from stone shaped like a heart ---to----> stone shaped like a hut could be an example of a changing dialect and language. sam, travis, and marisha are clear evidence of a shift in culture. jesters complete backstory wasnt introduced till now. and in it comes the cultures want to explain this event. humans love simplifying, but we also love to describe things. if we want to, we will add words just as much as we remove them. the dialect changes just as much. the new word of “schtupping." has either replaced or become a synonym of the word fucking, the name of the plum as even changed too. the treasure has gone from “lost to time” to “there is treasure, i just wont name it”. but fret not, for the mystery aspect is still in the story. for now everything will disappear like it never happened, or did it? though travis specifically specifies that you keep the treasure. humans love rewards, it was gonna come back eventually. matt is the sorta an enlightening moment in the society. at the very least its the point in time where people who know geography and history say “wait, that layout doesnt make any sense”. taelisan and ashley are the beginning of the end. the slow fall into the dark ages. the story becomes vague and small. slowly becoming more of a statement and less of a story. the society is forgetting large chunks and its bleeding out into other legends. there maybe a sort of thanksgiving/ christmas sort of event spawned from or because of the myth, but the story itself isnt going to live every far (hence why its ending in a dark age and not somewhen else)

Ep. 3: boy do humans enjoy rich’s, love, and drama. sam’s story comes from a society that warns against wanting what you wish for without expecting some strings attached and features a evil ruler to boot, just so they can date the legend. the story of a delivery boy who invents a pair of glasses to see through objects and uses them to win rewards and gives them all to a rich woman that only loves him for the money, and really loves the prince. matt changes the story so the two are already in love. but also changed it so that it was the greed of the prince and the wife that lead to the heartbreak rather than the delivery boys naivety. travis changes delivery boy from a clever inventor to just already owning the glasses. both matt and travis with there respective fictional cultures are showing how humans like to remember the stuff they liked in a story, so when they forget when something specifically came in, they just fill in the blank and assume its always been there. travis specificaly begins the stories slow march to a less heartbreaking story by adding a joke to help give the couple a more flushed out relationship. this is also the shift in cultural perspective. the antagonist began his life as a evil prince, but now is simply a rotten neighbor. this could mean the myth was co-opted to fit a better role, possibly after the removal of monarchy or just of a specific bloodline.the rich wife becomes just the wife, no money involved. this is also the beginning of what a full fledged re-write of the story. now the delivery man has gone from giving up to still being in love with the wife and now even standing up for himself. (possibly a mix of when the story was of a prince and used to promote the common folk to rise up against the kings, leading to the theory of a removal of the crown). ashely...oh ashely. this moment in history atleast solidifies the love between them, and even brings back delivery husbands inventor skills. liam is the slow clawing climb back up out of the collapse. he’s still very much in the collapse of the kingdom. but aleast its just before when begin to solidify into the new meta of the era. laura and taelisin’s era is a complete re-write after the collapse of the society. the focus has moved to more of a folk-hero style legend about rising above through theft and cheating (could mean that after the collapse the culture around theft changed from crime to fighting to survive. the antagonist has really changed from being the bad guy to just in the love triangle. the society seems to agree with every polyamourous person when we all say “this how drama triangle could have been avoided if you guys all just got together”. marisha’s only real change a more modernization from “specticals” to “goggles” and that the culture either wants to make half-orcs feel more inclusive or just really dont like goliaths and changed it. 

ep. 4: deargodfinallyigottheneedtowritethisoutofmysystemsoletsspeedrunthisshit. liams story is an analogy for the horrors, pointlessness, and sacrifics of war. but over time the story shifts from a “we did this to ourselves” narrative to a “an outside force did this to use”. this shifts the goal from a need for peace to a need to protect everyone for the sake of the many. ill write more later but dear god i my hand might fall off soon

[versdan]

Sharing is Caring (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: You and Bucky go on a camping trip. You forget to bring a sleeping bag so you have to share with Bucky, which leads to some confessions being shared.

Prompts:

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!” (this will be bolded)

Reader & Character go on a camping trip. R forgets to bring a sleeping bag, so they have to squeeze into characters sleeping bag with them

Pairings: Bucky x Reader and yeah, that’s it lol

Warnings: swearing & mentions of kidnapping

A/N: This is for the @buckygrantbarnes writing challenge!! Also this is my first time doing a writing challenge so hopefully it’s alright!! I hope you all enjoy + sorry for any typos!!

———

It was an annual thing you’d do. Go out camping, disconnect from the real world for a weekend and really think about what’s happening around you. You were a pro at the campsite you would usually trek to. You knew where the trails led, where picnic areas were and even restrooms.

This year though, you thought you’d try something a bit out of your comfort zone. Try out a new place.

You had begun planning you trip up to the Catskills campsite when your best friend, also crush, Bucky barged into your room with a Rubik’s cube in his hand, interrupting your productive brain storming.

“I honestly don’t know why I decided to play with this, it’s frustrating as fu- whatcha doing there?” He asked, coming to sit next to you on your bed. You looked up at him briefly and smiled.

“I’m planning my camping trip that I do every year” you said. Bucky looked at you and smiled. “Camping huh? At a new campsite?”

“Yep! It’s sort of like a challenge for me but I know I’ll get through it” you said, looking back down at the map, pin pointing certain destinations you want to go to

“Maybe I should go, ya know make sure you’re safe and don’t fall off a cliff or anything” Bucky said, sliding down on your bed so he’s now laying down.

“You? Want to go camping?” You stated, scoffing at the end “I’d like to see this happen”. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach after hearing him say he wants you to be safe. Your crush on Bucky developed after a couple months since you joined the team. You saw how kind he was but also how fun and flirty.

“Well, give me a list of stuff to bring and I’ll show you I can do it. Can’t leave my girl alone in a new place” he said, looking at you smirking. You felt your face heat up, so you looked away as he got up from the bed. You handed him a shopping list before he walked out the room. “This is gonna be so fun (Y/N)” he said, smiling back at you before exiting the room.

————

Once you both had everything ready and packed, you and Bucky drove to the campsite, blasting music and singing along.

You arrived at the campsite and begun to gather your things from the trunk of the car.

You looked at Bucky’s stuff that he was gathering and couldn’t help but have an inkling you forgot something really important. You started creating a mental checklist in your head and thought you had everything so you shrugged off the feeling and begun the hike up the campsite.

After about 20 minutes, you reached the campgrounds and came to the beautiful site of a lake with an open view of the sky above it surrounded by trees.

“Wow” you breathed out, “this is absolutely beautiful”. You felt a smile creep out on your face as you took in your surroundings. You and Bucky were the only campers there on the site which you were glad for so you both had your space away from others.

“Yeah, it is” you heard Bucky say. You looked at him and he was already looking at you with a smile on his face. You looked down and felt your face heat up again before clearing your throat.

“Let’s get unpacked and set up our tents” you said, before taking off your bag and getting your tent ready.

“Last one to set up the tent is a rotten egg” Bucky said, before rushing to get his gear out

“You’re so on” you challenged him, laughing throughout the race as he tried to mess up your tent building

Once you set up your tents, you winning of course, you finally figured out what you were missing, you sleeping bag. You groaned loudly and placed your hands on your face.

“This cannot be happening” you stated, hanging your head down.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky said in a worried tone. You felt your face heat up at the nickname he called you.

“I forgot my sleeping bag” you groaned, looking at him. He laughed, trying to cover it up with a cough. You looked at him seriously before laughing at yourself for forgetting it.

“I’m surprised that you, the great camper, forgot their sleeping bag” he chuckled looking away before looking back at you.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to share!” You said, sarcastically. Bucky shrugged his shoulders before smiling.

“I don’t mind at all” he said, before going to set up the campfire and you placing your bags in your tent since you won’t be sleeping in there for the night.

—

Night came quick and it was time for you both to go to bed. You went into your tent to change into some pajamas quickly which were black leggings and a big long sleeve shirt. One you were done, you went into Bucky’s tent and he was already getting arranged in the sleeping bag that looked like it could fit 5 people.

“Need a bigger sleeping bag?” You asked, chuckling before getting under the blanket with him.

Bucky scoffed, “hey, you’re lucky I have this one because then someone would have been freezing to death” he said, smiling at you sarcastically as you laid down.

“Well, it would be better if I could have this all to myself so I can feel warmer” you laughed, joking towards him.

Bucky let out a fake gasp “you can’t banish me! This is my bed too, you dork!” He laughed, looking taken a back

You rolled your eyes, chuckling “yeah, yeah. Goodnight, old man” you spoke, turning to face the opposite direction and drifting off to sleep.

-

You were woken up to hearing Bucky screaming your name in a dream. You turned to see him sweating, arms flailing on his sides as he was panting.

“(Y/N)! Please! Don’t go!” He said, his voice cracking. You shook him awake. His eyes popped up and he sat up quickly that he bumped his head against yours.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! I’m so sorry” he said, placing his hands softly onto your head. He wanted to make sure you were real after the horrifying dream you just had.

“I’m alright, Buck. But I should be asking you if you’re okay” you looked up at him as his eyes cashed downwards, not wanting to make eye contact.

“I just” he started but paused, taking a breath. “I had a dream that you were being taken and I couldn’t do anything. I was running in slow motion that I could save you” Bucky said, voice cracking at the end.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an embrace. Bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body and you both stayed like that.

You pulled away, looking from his eyes to his lips before he crashed his lips onto yours. You kissed back just as roughly as you melted into the kiss. You felt as if you were missing out this whole time. Chills ran down your back as you both held each other there.

Pulling away to catch your breath, Bucky laid down on his side, patting the spot next to him. You laid next to him, cuddling close to him, feeling the warmth from his body which heated up your cold one. Bucky placed an arm around your waist, and you felt in awe that this was happening.

“Im glad I forgot my sleeping bag” you smiled up at Bucky, who placed a kiss on your nose before you snuggled into his chest for a good nights sleep.

———

feedback is appreciated!

requests are open!

[dreams-in-blxck]

Disposable camera  d.d

David Dobrik x reader

PURE FLUFFFF AN: so this is my second shot that ive ever writte, so is shit. I just wanted to write this idea that has been in ky mind for so long. Sorry for any mistakes, I speak Spanish, ok that's alllll.

Been in a relationship with one of the biggest YouTubers was something out of this world. Yo met David through Matt, a friend of yours since childhood, you were invited to his 22nd birthday party three years ago, since then you’ve been inseparable. People started to ship the two of you and you really didn’t mind at all, you kept it going with it for the vlogs, until the day he got his wisdom teeth removed. You took care of him, and he being all out of him confessed that he liked you. Everything was kept only for you and the group in the begging, but after your six month anniversary you decided to finally make it public. To your surprise the majority of his fans actually liked the relationship you two have. After a few years of ups and downs he proposed to you. it was honestly something you never thought it would happen so quickly. You were in New York for your birthday. It was amazing, you stayed near Central Park and explored the whole city. David always by your side, walking on the busy streets, and enjoying the company and everything you did. 

The last night you stayed he said you were going out to have dinner, you went to the prettiest restaurant ever, it was in the top flor of a giant building. “David, this is amazing” you said while walking to your table and watching the city at your feet. “Only what you deserve” he said back kissing the top of your head. You smiled to him at sat at your table. You ordered your food and talk for a few hours, when you were done and only the dessert was left, David went to the bathroom. The music form a piano started to travel through the air until it reached your ears. It was weird since all night the only thing you could hear was the noisy streets. The music of the piano made you turn your face to the door that lead inside the restaurant, only to found David walking towards you with a little black velvet box. Your eyes started to tear up a little. Your hands covering your mouth in disbelieve, a shy smile on David’s face while he went onto his knees and opened the little box. A tear when down trough your face and breathe became hard to you. “Y/N… a literally practiced this so many times in the mirror, but im speechless right now” you chuckled, “I love you, and I-I can’t believe I found you. You have no idea of how you make me a different person, a better one, and I honestly don’t know what would I do without you. I know sometimes is hard to keep up with all that happens but I know ill be lost without you, so that’s why I want you to be with me for the rest of our lives” You started to cry again, David took your hands on one of his, “Y/N would you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” You literally couldn’t talk so you nodded and bit your lower lip. David took the ring out form the box and put it in your finger. He stand up and pulled you to his arms, you hugged him back still tearing up a little. He took your hands back to his and talked again, “I love you and I can’t wait to spent our lives together” you smiled and kissed him. Your lips dancing with his, “I love you too”.

Eight months after the wedding you sarted to feel bad, nausea, pain, you let it passed. One David went back to Chicago for some business he had there, sou you stayed in L.A and made your life as normal. During the week you had an appointment with your doctor, normal checks ups. You started and drove there, on your way David called. “Hi baby” you answered. “Hey babe, I just called to say that ill back tomorrow morning” “Yeah I know, you’ve been bothering me all week long” “Oh, so you don’t miss me?” “No, not at all. I’ve been really relaxed. Not doing anything at all” “Im glad to hear that. Me and Stacey been all crazy” you laughed at his story. “I gotta go babe, I have an appointment, call you later” “Yeah its fine, im gotta go sleep. I’ll call you when I make it there” “Yes baby, love you” you hang up and entered the building. +++

“Everything is normal, you just have to take some vitamins and you’ll be okay” you nodded and sat up. When you were about to leave the nausea came back and ran to the bathroom, emptying your stomach. A nurse came after you and ran her hand in your back. You stand up and washed your mouth. The nurse asked you to come with her, and you did. She took you back to the doctor’s office and took some blood samples. “Are you ok?” The doctor said. “Yeah, I just been with nausea and pain this days lately. Its nothing” you said rubbing your forehead. The doctor nodded before talking again. “By any chance, can you pregnant?” The question took you back for a little but soon replied. “No, Im with birth control, haven’t stop in 4 years” you said. The doctor nodded again and explain you that all the symptoms you had were pretty similar to the pregnancy ones, you just went with it and waited for the results.

++++

Back home you took one of David’s cameras out and put it in the island of the kitchen, adjusting it to you. You started o record.

“Hi guys. I know this video is going to be weird” you paused”I don’t know how to do this thing, David is the expert one” you smiled ”so… Im going to be pretty face forward. I went to the doctor today and” you bit your lower lip and gasped ”im pregnant” you let the air you didn’t know you were keeping out. A big smile appeared in your face and your eyes got watery. “To be honest I didn’t expect it, I’ve been in birth control for so long and never in my mind I thought I could be pregnant. David doesn’t know yet, I want to tell him tomorrow he gets home from Chicago. And I have an idea of how im gonna do it” you took the camera in your hands and started walking to the bedroom. So you know how David keeps doing all the stuff about his disposable camera. So he left some of them to be done before he went to Chicago and I picked them up today. So tomorrow” you sat on the bed” when he gets back I know he will like to see how the photos turned out, so im going to put this” you grabbed the printed ultrasound and showed to the camera ”in the bag with the other photos. I really wanted to do it like that, cause you know how much David loves all those videos” you smiled remembering when Josh told David that Page was pregnant” and im going to record it, cause I know he loves his clickbait” you paused taking everything that you happened in the last few hours. “I guess ill see you tomorrow”. +++

Before leaving to the airport to pick David up, you sited a camera in your room and the bag of photos on the bed. You started to drive and recorded with your phone two minutes before picking David. “Ok guys, so I left the house all done, a camera and the bag in the room. Im not recording with a camera right now cause he will definitely know something is up. So im just going to keep recording with my phone down and maybe he will record to” you said before putting your phone down still recording. You parked to the side of the street and met David. Opening the trunk he left his stuff in the back and sat next to you. “Hi baby” you said and kissed him. “Hi babe” he said hugging you. “Rough night” you chuckled looking at his under eyes. “I couldn’t sleep on the plane” he said while resting his head on the seat. “Im sorry baby, I’ll take us home quickly ok?” He nodded and slept till you got back. When you arrived David went straight to take a shower and you walked to the living room to update the video. “So David is taking a shower right now, im going to ask him if hi wants food and tell him that the photos are in the bed” you walked to the bathroom and knocked. “Yeah baby?” “Im going to Postmate something, you want anything?” “Yeah some chipotle please” he yelled. “Got it, oh by the way, I picked up the photos they’re in the bed” “Thanks baby”. You walked out of the room and stopped the recording, ordered the food and went to the kitchen. You opened your phone to see the camera through it. You sited another camera in the kitchen cause you knew he will come here when he saw it.

David entered the room changed and with a towel in his hand. He sat in the bed and opened the bag with the photos on it. The photos were in his hands, one by one being thrown in the bed after being examined by him. Photo of the whole vlog squad in a random party, some of his famous friends and some of you, he steered at them the longest a smile appearing every time you came to his view. He was just one photo away from the only thing that matters. Your hand covering your hand to stop the whimpers you didn’t know you were making, feeling the tears end at your hand, you cleared your face and waited. David threw the picture he had in his hands and looked down. His breathing stopped. Everything inside him stopped. He couldn’t believe what was in between his now shaking hands. A single tear started to roll down his face. He sat up and started to jog your way. “Y/N please tell me this is not a joke” hi said reaching the kitchen. You let your phone fall and sat up running to his arms. “No is not” you said while tears covered your face again. “Oh my god” David sobbed “Im going to be a dad” you took his face in your hands and kissed him “Yes you are” you said looking into his eyes “We’re going to have a baby” he said before picking you up and turning around. You’ve never been happier.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Ok uhhh claia, lukemaryse and malec superhero au headcanons

first of all, id just like to say that i love this new trend of u guys sending me really vague prompts and giving me complete creative freedom to do whatever i want with them. i think it really shows that u trust me to create good, interesting content, and that means a lot to me. second of all, that trust is entirely misplaced. why would you ever think that id make something good. have you met me. what im trying to say here is basically: this is your own fault

behold:

In a world where everyone has a superpower, the world is bound to work a little different. No one knows what determines people's superpowers; some are fairly common (like teleportation, which led to a lot of ppl working as cabs, taking ppl to and from wherever they need) and others are unique and particularly powerful (and also dangerous, which is why particularly powerful people are part of an elite squad dedicated to keep the world safe; our very own superheroes)

Alec's superpower is definitely unique: he can sense trash. That's it. Hes just going around, living his life, sensing trash. He knows when people are littering. He can sense it from a pretty far away distance. Everywhere he goes, he knows where all the trash cans are. His life is just. Him and the trash, everywhere, haunting him

No one's ever heard of this before. Alec's mom, maryse, can bend all four elements, and is part of the Elite Squad; so is his father, although he retired from action and works behind a desk now. His sister izzy has superspeed and was trained to perfect combat in the hopes she would follow their footsteps, but ultimately decided to give it up and become a biologist instead. And Alec. Can sense trash

This was the source of a lot of Family Drama, since alec's parents were pretty strict and held their position as elite superheroes with pride, expecting nothing less from their children. But after many years of trying and failing to somehow make up for it, Alec decided to say fuck them and fully embraced who he is, refusing to live in apology. Once he finally left their house to live on his own, maryse realised he meant wanting to cut them off his life for real, and came around. Robert's lack of understanding was one of the factors that led to their divorce

Alec became an architect and works to build better and efficient waste collection systems in the country. Due to his power, he knows which places need the most infrastructure investment, as well as the problems that lead to the littering. He also knows which companies are illegally discarding their waste and how, the exact effects of that on the environment, and a lot of stuff that would otherwise only be possible through extensive research. He is an activist for both a better public, free, universal waste removal system, and stricter regulations on companies that profit from environmental destruction.

And the thing is, he likes this life. He's passionate about it. Everyday at work he gets to do a little something to make the world better and fight against injustice and use his place of privilege that comes from his education and his so-called "useless" superpower for change. He wouldn't trade it for the world and he's really passionate about what he does, even if it does take up most of his time

So when his mom comes in one day saying that a new villain named Trash Man is going around and killing people and they need his help to track him, Alec is not. amused.

First of all: Trash Man? come on

But he kind of has no choice, since this is top priority at the moment and the very ministery of security is calling him or something - every citizen is required to register their powers so they know exactly when they're needed

So he goes, and for the first time, he meets the rest of his mom's Top Secret team; first of all, there's the leader, Luke: his power is persuasion and hes very good at de-escalating events to guarantee minimal damage and better solutions, making him the most valuable asset of the team. Then there's Maryse, and under them, a team of relatively young, but very powerful, heroes: maia, a shapeshifter; clary, who can summon weapons and is very good at Stabbing; and Magnus, who can bend time and space

Magnus is also kind of the Group Genius; his power also got him an special interest in physics and chemistry, meaning that he is not only able to use his power intelligently and creatively, but effectively enhance it; he's also very good with tech and responsible for a lot of their non-power-related assets. Honestly, he likes that part way better than the crime-fighting blah blah blah, but he kind of has no choice over what he does because he's an orphan and extremely powerful, meaning he's viewed as a threat by the government while simultaneously being dependant on them, and would pretty much have nowhere to turn to if he didnt start working for them

But really, he wants to be a scientist. He wants to do good things. He wants to create stuff that will make people's lives, and the world, better. He doesn't even believe in this whole "crime fighting" shit; he believes in a just world crime would be minimal and using their resources to fight bad guys instead of working on crime prevention is an absolute waste. But it's not like anybody asked for his opinion.

Alec and Magnus immediately hit it off; Alec was kind of tense at first because surely these guys would have the world's hugest chip on their shoulder, right? But instead everyone welcomes him, and Magnus kind of jokes that he envies him, which takes him by surprise

Because Maia and Clary are both Magnus' great friends as well, Alec also gets closer to them; Clary can be a little self-centered and annoying, but she's cool and Maia always calls her out on it. Maia is a fierce, amazing, smart girl and Alec can totally see why she and Magnus are so close, with their similar sense of humor, shared experiences (Maia is not an orphan but she ran away from home when she was pretty young), and gleaming, almost mischievous intelligence and talent. Alec can hold a conversation with them alright, since as an architect he needs quite some knowledge of physics and as an activist he can also hold pretty good and deep conversations with them about the system and its flawed, unjust logic; but there are some topics they get into that just kind of escalate and seem to get them in their own little world. Alec finds himself watching from the sidelines sometimes, and while he admires that - and doesnt miss the way clary will sometimes sit beside him and watch them as well, a small smile on her face that tells him everything he needs to know - he finds himself... a little upset by it, too

Not that he has a problem with them, but he finds himself wanting to feel like he belongs, and that's kind of- new. It's not like his life is a sad wet sock of loneliness or anything, he has his sister, he has some friends, but he's a private kind of guy and he finds himself more comfortable at the sidelines than the spotlight, except when it comes to his work, because hes good at that

It's just his luck, then, that Trash Man turns out to be really smart and hard to track due to [vague plot noises], giving him all the time he needs to, well, figure this out

So he spends more time with them, particularly Magnus. The both of them will sometimes sit talking for hours, and soon learn a lot about each other. Magnus listens, enraptured, whenever Alec goes on a passionate Trash Rant™ and Alec is always in awe by Magnus' smart solutions. They begin some sort of camraderie that's also laced with Magnus' oh-so-smooth flirting, which started strong and eventually died out as Magnus began to realize he really liked Alec and his usual confidence and devil-may-care attitude vanished. But Alec mistakes this as Magnus losing interest or him seeing things. Cue lots of mutual pining

At least once Alec gets thrown through a wall by some villain; but, little did he know, it wasnt just a normal wall that he broke; it was the fourth wall. Alec looks straight into the reader's eyes, and goes: "I can sense trash. That's why, in this AU, i was never friends with jace". Then Magnus comes in and takes him back to the other side of the wall, and Alec blinks, confused, not remembering what had just happened. This is never mentioned again

Idk theres some gay shit in here, Alec introduces Magnus to Izzy and Magnus is absolutely in awe with her work. Izzy specializes in pollinators and works trying to restore the bee population and guarantee a more sustainable environment. Her work crosses with Alec's a surprising amount of times, and Magnus, who loves both animals and the incredible amount of knowledge her research requires, and they become super good friends almost immediately, which makes Alec very pleased.

More gay shit, Alec and Magnus decide to team up to try and get Clary and Maia together, only to be knocked sideways when they find out they're already dating. Maryse is like "do the four of you ever work" and Alec is hit with the realisation that his mom, too, kind of lives in the sidelines when it comes to things that arent work; luke seems to be kind of the mediator between her and the rest of the team, which is kind of sad. She does seem to have a good relationship with Luke, tho

Eventually they defeat Trash Man and Alec is no longer required to work for them and can go back to his trash activism; and when he does, so does Magnus, who is invited to work with izzy's team, which he gladly accepts

Somehow Alec confesses? And Magnus is in awe because he of course never expected Alec to like him back but. It turns out Alec is the most confident out of the two of them despite their exterior telling most people otherwise. And Magnus just says that yes he likes him back and will go out with him and they kiss passionately in the middle of the lab surrounded by bees but there are also flowers so theres that. And then they get married. I mean not right after but some years later

Magnus leaving inspires the rest of them, in some ways; Maia, Luke and Maryse start actually fighting to change the crime fighting policies to investment in crime prevention because new supervillains will always keep coming. The romantic tension between them finally snaps and they start going out. Maryse seems like such a different person now, more open and happier. Alec is pleased

They save the bees and the trash and the impending environmental apocalypse that looms over us is avoided idk that's all Ive got

Again this is your fault

The end

[not-a-space-alien]

hey its me again wall of text sorry not sorry

k i saw your little treatise justifying zadr and yknow its a cartoon its not the worst thing ever of course nobody is gonna sue you for reblogging fanart or burn you at the stake or w/e and im glad you decided to open yourself up to a differing opinion but zim IS portrayed as an adult. there was even an unfinished episode where zim’s childhood and growing up training from start to finish would be shown so by the time of the pilot he is definitely a full grown developed adult by irken standards especially if hes a former member of an elite military force like the invaders. jhonen has said that the irony and sad comedy of zims character is that hes a grown ass man and a war veteran to boot who VOLUNTARILY goes to an elementary school every day and throws hands with an 11 year old boy who should be well below his notice because he’s that pathetic and desperate for validation that he’ll stoop to seeking it from a child. it also sets up a dynamic between them where dib is CHALLENGED by having to go up against an adult with way more experience than him while dib is just a child, so when he wins its more meaningful, which is a common trope in childrens fiction that an underdog young hero has to take down a powerful adult villain.

jhonen might joke a lot but he’s serious about this part of the characterization of zim and dib and he even went to great lengths to make dib look and act more like a kid in ETF (more emotional and naive, designed to look smaller/softer, going in depth with his relationship to his dad and sister and needing his dad to protect him at the end when he’s too overrun to fight alone) just to drive home the point of how young he is. it was a very deliberate move and jhonen knows what hes doing ESPECIALLY since he also left zim pretty much unchanged and also includes gags about zim’s relative maturity like animating him briefly grimacing because his joints are sore and the part where he pretty much gestures to his crotch and goes “theyre afraid to look at ALL-A THIS”. like you would not see jhonen do that sort of joke with an underage character ok. dont confuse his social awkwardness and self deprecating/trolling humor for not knowing the difference between right and wrong and not acknowledge when he means something sincerely because he doesn’t just clown on people and troll ALL THE TIME 24/7 hes a human, and times have changed with more awareness on issues such as the grooming of minors so he can go back on things he may have said in the past that he doesn’t agree with now or said by mistake. he has said enough times that zim is older than any human alive that its safe to take his word for it by now. judging by the one strip he did in JTHM about johnny murdering a pedophile who was about to prey on squee i think his stance on protecting kids is pretty clear. also i wouldnt put it past jhonen to have redesigned membrane to be more chaddy looking to divert the adult fandom’s attention away from dib and throw the fangirls a bone but thats a whole nother can of worms lol.

and the justification that zim is immature so hes essentially on dib’s level is a reversal of something lots of kids hear from either creepy or ignorant adults who tell them theyre “so mature for their age”. no matter how emotionally mature you are it wont ever compensate for the number of years youve been alive so that’s not very sound logic, and even in fic where theyre both adults it’s still pretty weird because it doesn’t erase their history where zim knew dib as a kid. that’s sort of like a grownup waiting with bated breath until a kid is “legal” so they can start dating. kinda like when jacob imprints on bella’s newborn daughter in twilight then having it handwaved away by saying he’ll wait till she’s grown up, which understandably drew a huge amount of criticism. it’s a loophole that might be mildly acceptable in some cases but the context leaves it colored with a residual ickiness that sets off some red flags for me and a lot of other people.

also you said zim is an alien and therefore the situation itself is unrealistic, but the reason invader zim’s writing resonates with people is because zim is written with very HUMAN emotions and motivations and part of the humor again is how irkens despite being aliens from another planet mirror some of humanity’s worst flaws such as being petty, gluttonous, willfully ignorant, arrogantly believing they are special and better than everyone else, easily manipulated by propaganda, all too eager to greedily colonize other societies etc making them not so different from us at all. so the premise out of context might not seem realistic but the idea of a sad burnout adult who doesn’t realize how humiliating it is to be consistently outsmarted by a kid less than half their age IS realistic and applicable to human interaction since we’ve likely all met someone like this before at one point in our lives for example a schoolteacher who has a personal vendetta against one or more of their students and has nothing better to do than antagonize them, or a really dumb parent that you fight with a lot.

another thing, i know you and other fans probably have a lot of sentimental value and nostalgia attached to zadr because you probably shipped it back when you were a kid yourself and you cant be blamed for something you liked as a kid, but youre an adult now, and you have to listen to the portion of kids in the fandom who dont like zadr and say without question that the age gap makes them uncomfortable. those kids ARE the priority. we’re grown up now and we have to put our feelings aside for them because that’s part of being responsible and mature. i feel like zim himself is a pretty good example of how not to act at our age [shrug emoji]

and anyway a lot of the same elements of zadr can be explored with zadf just as well with just as much potential for cute moments and as a bonus is it’s not creepy

You do bring up some good points, and I’m not saying you’re wrong...  But honestly I’m still not convinced.  I mean, stuff that Jhonen said, the thing is even if it’s the author saying it it’s still outside of canon, that’s the reason why Neil Gaiman got flack for Good Omens because they didn’t write an actual kiss or hug or hand-hold between Aziraphale and Crowley yet Neil Gaiman went on Twitter saying they were queer representation.  I still don’t really put much stock into what he says because the unfinished episodes and Jhonen’s commentary don’t really change the dynamic that’s actually in the show.  And again...Jhonen said if there were going to be romance in the show it would be Zim/Gaz, so he’s either a huge hypocrite or doesn’t view Zim as being incompatible with Gaz.

I do think it’s much better when Dib is an adult and it just makes more sense, and I actually do prefer zadf to zadr and if i were going to ever write fanfiction or make fanart it would probably just be zadf, just because i know this does have some stuff to think about and I totally respect that you have a different view of it, but i honestly just don’t see it that way.  The analogy with Jacob imprinting on Bella’s child in Twilight isn’t really the same thing honestly.  The author in that situation tried to make it not......that....by saying that imprinting isn’t always a romantic relationship thing, and that Jacob would be more of an older brother, but honestly that doesn’t really negate the impact of grooming that kid would have with Jacob around.  The idea that Zim would somehow be grooming Dib seems really silly to me although you’re right, I think his characterization in Into the Florpus has evolved somewhat especially with regard to Dib wanting to get his father’s approval, but again Zim has parallels with that in trying to please the Tallest.  the world-building and characterizations are inconsistent and scattershot at best.  Like no, zim isn’t waiting for him to turn legal, that’s absurd, they’re nemeses coming at each other then learning to be friends.  You’re right that that doesn’t have to be zadr but I still tag it as zadr so people can block it if they want to.

Like, I’ve seen people ship Zim with Professor Membrane instead of Dib.  That seems very weird to me.  that professor membrane would have a relationship with someone who literally goes to his son’s elementary school and who doesn’t know anything at all about human behavior and emotions.

I feel like with this discussion people don’t really understand the problem with age gaps. With age gaps, it’s not a matter of mature/immature, it’s about development.  A ten year age gap sounds like a lot right?  a 25-year-old and a 15-year old would absolutely have a predatory “relationship.”  But a 35- and a 45-year old, that’s perfectly fine.  Having a difference in age doesn’t automatically make the relationship unhealthy.  so if Dib is 25 and Zim is [whatever the hell aliens years i still don’t really take Jhonen’s word for it bc he’s not consistent], that’s doesn’t mean it has to be bad.  The thing about telling minors they’re “so mature for their age” to try and convince them that a person interested in them isn’t a pedophile is that we know a human being who is 15 isn’t developmentally at the same level as a 25-year-old regardless of their behavior.  What is Zim?  All we have to go on is how he acts, and he acts like Dib is an equal match, it’s not “he’s immature for his age,” it’s very unclear.  Raw number of years isn’t the ultimate decider, for example in DnD lore elves reach maturity at, like, 100 years old so a 25-yo human trying to get with a 50-year-old elf would be predatory to the young elf even though the “younger” one is technically twice as old as the human.  Do you see what I’m saying?

I also don’t really buy the idea that Invader Zim’s writing resonates with people because Zim is ~~so human~~.  The guy steals a bunch of kid’s organs in one episode and flies into a tantrum over the slightest inconvenience.  You have to be reading really deeply into it and dig into some old internet archives of things Jhonen Vasquez has said to paint it as realistic.  You can do some interesting things with it wrt like, Zim being defective and starting to experience human emotions but that’s mostly fanon.

Well, you’ve given me some things to think about, thanks for explaining your side to me.  I’m still going to tag things as #zadr so people can block if it can’t plausibly be categorized as zadf.  I’m not actually making any fan content for Invader Zim so the point is kind of moot, but if I ever do I’ll definitely take this into consideration.

[notmuchofarolemodel]

It's 4 a.m

I'm still awake

Thinking of all the

shit

I've done

I've been told to meditate

ican'tican'tican't

it's called 'loving kindness'

the practice.

I was supposed to start by saying kind things to myself

but it became clear that I couldn't do that

either.

I tried sending love to other people.

but I couldn't decide who

so many people deserve

more

Than I've given them.

does laying

out

these words

d

i

f make me cool? quirky?

f I'm a shallow self-absorbed kid.

e

r i play ukulele ffs

e

n

t

l

y

I HATE PEOPLE

i hate me

i read three books today. people think im so clever. they're dissapointed when they find out the truth

SMART PEOPLE SLEEP DAMNIT

i have two running commanteries

in my brain

One is where The other is a web

It's like I'm of confusion but

Being constantly. blindingly clear

Watched or Thoughts.

Interviewed

.

noise

Is it better to have no noise?

when i put the headphones on, i hear nothing. Is it nice? no. my head is echoing. Ah, early morning paranoia. WHO'S CALLING MY NAME? I rip them off. No noise. My clock ticks.

I breathe. Something Hits my window. (under no circumstances look up) but the space between the noise is

a g o n i z i n g l y SILENT.

I don't listen for the noise that could shatter the void. but they're invading my ears like caterpillars, if they liked inhabiting ears. someone's downstairs. Footsteps. They're going to kill us all. "WHO'S THERE?!" I scream. silently. nobody. I'm crazy.

I try to block out the thoughts, and memories of what I've said to hurt people.

OK WHY AREN'T I TIRED?

I'm too tired to get up

though. Not uncommon. still.

I CAN'T SLEEP

I wish I could write songs.

but I can only do whatever the hell these are.

you know when the teacher falls silent and you know you're in trouble? I hate that.

I hate answering teacher questions

I hate being scared

I DON'T LIKE VERY MUCH NOWADAYS

I have to do the things I hate though

mY hoMeWoRK lOOmS in front of me. like something stuck in a door hinge. I can't shut the damn door on it and enjoy myself.

because i 'NEED' to do the stupid stuff(not what a need is defined as in business studies) but I don't.

hypocrite

adj. (1)/ me

i dislike people

I'm not unhinged but I'm desperate for someone to view me as normal

c a n' t y o u s e e

I act like this as a defense?

If the weirdo does something weird it's because she's weird so it's not questioned, but if other people do the same thing, they're judged ad ridiculed and pitied and Hurt and i don't want that

how can I so crave attention from other people but want to be left alone at the same time?

I don't want to sleep

I don't like the

lying sTILL LIKE a log

thing. Too much thinking.

I can't channel them into anything

When I was little I loved dressing up girly and fixing things. Pretending to build bookshelves with my plastic power tools. building bookshelves with my dad. I'm not asked to help with that stuff anymore. then I'm called lazy? I wonder why?? Hypocrites. I wonder where I get it from.

I gained like [lots of] kilos in a year. Yes growing, and yes hips and shit, yes I was really skinny but still

f a t t y ✓

hm. I need a shower.

It's 5:05 a.m

my parents think I don't get enough sleep anyway. shit.

Last time this happened, they didn't believe me so it's fine.

I'm a tad dizzy.

bystander

The world is too awake

For me to sleep

but yet I can only watch it go by.

the moon. How bright

For a ball of cheese.

C O M E D Y

lockdown is more busy than non lockdown

I feel numb

Indifferent

numb

OW. I dislike emotions.

huh.

I wish people would stop commenting.

"you're eating too loud"

*Insert laugh here*

"stupid"

*pitying look*

ok maybe it's not just comments.

the little ones hurt the most

when they didn't expect you to care about something stupid. About you.

I really wanted this jumper (profile pic) but they're sold out and were limited edition. FB said there was one left.

This started as a poem thing.

funny.

My pencil is running out.

I wrote it originally in watercolor pencil.

A bit of water and "all gone"

they were my first words .

my logical thought takes over and tells me my irrational thoughts are stupid. And me. I can't tell them apart anymore.

h

P i L os OPHY

gotta make it into a joke as per usual

hehe I'm nocturnal. ♪

WOULDIWAS SHOOKSPEARED

i want my phone back now. It's 7 minutes past 5:05 a.m. I'm sick of thinking.

I need a haircut

I don't like acting anymore because I dislike thinking about my emotions and acting is trying to harness these emotions that I've got locked away

[NOTE: my organs could implode somehow for some reason somehow]

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Emotion layered leftovers

1+2 constantly refreshed, not deep, happy sad angry etc.

They're the ones ppl see

3. Stuff. If I trust u, u get this mess

4. Lol idk

5+6 stagnant sad shit. Fermenting.

Haha my therapist would like my emotion kombucha. Yum. I'd like a therapist. Y O M

I'M DONE WRITING NOW

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

[missjackil]

Miss Jacki’s Wincest World

Tonight I have Wincest on my mind... I usually do, but more tonight than normal so Id like to share with anyone interested, my thoughts and headcanons about it, and maybe those of you who read this, may view Sam and Dean’s relationship a little differently, or, at the very least, see there are many ways to enjoy Wincest, and maybe even inspire you, writers and artists, to create around this view. I know not all my followers dig Wincest, so I’ll put in a cut so as not to spam your feed with something that may squick you. Anyone who is interested, please feel free to comment, ask me stuff, or share your own view. So click the cut, and enter if you dare 😎

I want to start off by stating that Im not into m/m sex, and I definitely don’t have an incest kink, however, Sam and Dean have something very special that I noticed and loved immediately when I first started watching. The first time we see the brothers together, I was hit with “WOAAH easy tiger” Dean’s smile. a breathless Sam “Dean?!” and I knew, this was gonna be interesting! At first I was intrigued, but still a little put off with how thick the subtext was, with all the sexually charged pushing each other into walls, unnecessary touching and grabbing, and heart eyes they would look at each other with, I remember thinking “the writers know they're brothers.... right?”But it wasn't long before I found all this downright adorable. and though I didn’t think the brothers have sex, when Dean sold his soul for Sam, I knew they had an unmatchable love. Something that goes far beyond familial love to something none of us will ever experience. 

I don’t know when it happened exactly, but by the end of season 4 I was thinking “If they had sex, would it even be the worst thing they’ve ever done?” Sam and Dean do immoral, unethical and illegal things all the time, but for good reasons, so, if they crossed that line into banging each other, it would be for a good reason. Like, they love each other more than words can express and need each other more than oxygen. So really, is it a reach to think it would become sexual at some point?

I know it won't ever be canon, and honestly, I don't want it to be, but it’s obviously something the writers have always wanted us to consider, a risque thought to entertain, and maybe even accept between the 2 of them. Jared and Jensen aren’t offended by the thought, they play into it at con panels and on gag reels. Sometimes the show jokes about it, and the cast and crew even play into it. It was great to learn I wasn’t alone in thinking Wincest is the best ship ever!

Now, my headcanons and preferences are different than many other Wincest shippers, and that’s fine, there's more than one way to love this pair. but I must say that it makes it difficult for me to find a fic that matches my opinion. It’s not your fault, it’s that I am a picky little shit, and though I accept and respect the views of others, for my own personal satisfaction, sex between the boys has to be a certain way, or it doesn't do much for me. 

I know for many, if not most of you, like the idea of the boys being sexual since they were young. I am absolutely turned off by any underage sex... Sam and Dean or anyone else... and I am also turned off by them being an age that wasn't played by Jared and Jensen. All that aside, I do understand the romance of the thought of the boys, lusty and passionate for each other and tearing at each other in the Impala after a hunt, that's all good, but for me I like all that tension to build up all these years, through everything they've been through together, and how they've felt when they were apart. 

I've never felt that the boys lust after each other. It's pure honest love. They see each other as beautiful and the center of their universe.  The sun rises and sets just for each other. It’s not “Damn he has a hot ass” (for me anyway) I don't think either brother is bisexual. This would mean they have an interest in men as well as women, and neither has shown they have any interest in men at all, but they have a bond with each other, that even they don't fully understand. They just know they belong to, and with their brother, in every sense of the word. Even death doesn’t part them. In fact, Death tried to, and Dean killed him 😉

I see them as not being together romantically until recent years. In fact, the later their “first time” is in a fan fic, the better. The longer that tension builds over surviving Hell, dying over and over, fighting, reuniting, watching people they care about die, and a world they've saved half a dozen times, still crumbling before them, Finally, the boys have nothing left to fear and give themselves over to each other. 

To get more personal, and maybe even a little smuttier. I dont see either as specifically a top or bottom ( hehe) I think they switch depending on the mood. I think Sam loves his role in Dean’s world. The little brother that Dean would sell his soul to protect. Dean wants to be sweet and gentle with Sam. Worship him inside and out. This works for me because if you have noticed, when Dean barks and bristles up to Sam, Sam rolls his eyes and pushes through it, but when Dean talks softly or expresses how important Sam is to him., Sam melts like cheese on a hot plate. Dean enjoys melting Sam 😊

Dean, however, loves that his little brother is big and strong and nerdy as he may be, is a lethal mofo if someone hurts or threatens Dean. When Sam makes love to Dean, he likes to be a little rough, playful,. not overly aggressive. He likes to take control and Dean gets all tingly when he does (that's literally canon folks hehe) If you've noticed, when Sam argues with Dean but is being the nerdy, logical peace-maker, Dean rolls his eyes and blows him off. However, when Sam expresses emotions, whether he’s angry or sad, Dean listens and softens up to him. Dean responds best when Sam is passionate and emotional. 

Dean also likes to feel Sam’s size and strength. As protective as Dean is, sometimes he needs protection himself and loves that his nerdy little brother is a freakin tank who would let the world burn to protect him. 

Sometimes, sex is just fun. Awkward and sloppy. Laughing because they're too big to do it comfortably in the car, or maybe they played a stupid drinking game or lost a sexy bet on a football game. They trust each other implicitly and experiment sometimes, and both are comfortable enough to say if they like it or not. 

Wincest is just the best, isn't it? The show has done well at painting them as a married couple. Nowadays, Dean hasnt even shown much interest in finding a chick and getting laid, and Sam has had sex once in 6 years! They may never admit on screen that the boys have sex, but they’ve made it obvious that they dont need or want other people for anything anymore. 💕😍

[larissaloki]

sharing is caring 4

man this chapter was just me self indulging in the little moments , that this got dragged on for over 6 pages XD hope everyone enjoys! @schwergaeneuser​ @msmynx​ @im-tops-bottom​ @jacksonfrost24​ @seven-oomen​ @el-rezet​ @thoughtfulbreadpolice​ @cwar1864​ @radiant-gift​ @tonakings​ @starsofyggdrasil​

“Found anything yet General?”

T’Challa approached Okoye slowly, hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the wreck of Stark’s craft. Besides him, Okoye calls out instructions to those investigating the craft; trying to work out just how exactly things went wrong. What caused it to crash the way it did?

The plane is completely destroyed. The beautifully crafted and sleek craft now a pile of metal sheets and sparking wires. The front of the plane is still relatively intact but crumpled from the force of the crash. The pilot that they had pulled free was thankfully still just alive and taken away for intensive care. Not long after they had found Tony. Most of the damage is from the rear of the plane, making it the most likely spot where whatever caused the accident is.

Surrounding the plane is serval groups of a mixture of scientists and the Dora Milaje. Smoothing down his jacket, T’Challa makes his way closer to a group near the back of the wreck who are becoming a bit more animated. Okoye shadowing right behind him.

“Looks like we just did sir”

Taking the lead just in-case, Okoye joins the group that are carefully removing rubble from what was once a storage part of the plane possibly. Using scanners and other various tech that T’Challa hasn’t a clue how to use, and no doubt recent inventions of his brilliant sister; the group scan a smoking black object they found.

Even T’Challa can see that this box must have been the cause of the explosion, the top of whatever this was meant to of been, was blown off. Jagged, black metal warped and split by the force of the explosion that came from it and the intense heat the explosion caused at the time. As it is, there is currently no way to tell what exactly this was.

After a few moments, the team determined that whatever this was, is no longer a danger. With great care, two scientists don some thick gloves incase the metal is still too hot; they carefully pick up and turn the object around. Examining and recording each observation they find.

“Your Majesty, we found something. It’s a logo we think,”

Frowning, T’Challa makes his way to stand by the scientists to see what it is they have found on the item.

Hammer Industries.

T’Challa recongises this logo, it’s the logo of industrialist: Justin Hammer. A man that has been trying to out do Tony’s tech since the very beginning of Tony’s career if he recalls correctly. T’Challa’s not stupid either, he’s read the tabloids and papers, he knows that Tony openly despises Hammer, especially after the whole Vanko incident a while back.

So why was something with Hammer’s logo, be on Tony’s plane?

“Do you think the explosion was intended?”

Recongising the logo herself, Okoye glances up at him with a frown, both know that Hammer’s tech was faulty at best and downright dysfunctional at worst. They have seen the videos; they saw the reports that were kept out of public eyes. They found all this from research after Hammer had reached out to them, not long after they decided to open their borders to the world. To share their resources.

Hammer had not been happy when they had turned him down in favour of working with Stark, the alpha had made a few jokes, but they could clearly see that the man had felt slighted.

“Perhaps, but for Mr. Stark or us I cannot be sure. It could have been something innocent that just happened to malfunction. I’m not sure which idea would be the better option…” T’Challa nods at the scientist that found it. “Please take this to the lab, find out as much as you can about this thing. I must go and Talk to Stark about this, see if he can shred any light on this,”

Confident that everything is in good hands, a few quick words with Okoye to look out for anything more from Hammer that may have been snuck onto the plane.

~ ~ ~

When T’Challa reached the lab, he expected to see many things to be happening in there. Many odd and curious things that his sister had cooked up or wanted him to try out. Yet despite this expectation, he was still not prepared to see what greeted him.

Shuri was stood to one side of the room, her beads activated to record the scene before her, a massive grin spread across her face as she watches the others with pure joy.

The others in question where trying to unlock some sort of Vibranium ball that was shut tight around Bucky’s leg. The ball in question has a series of purple lines over it and looks like a overly complicated puzzle, similar to the Japanese puzzles. Only more Vibranium and made by his delightful sister.

Trying to work out the Puzzle is Tony and M’Baku who are both trying to yank the ball off and hitting it with a club. However, that approach seems to only yield the result of them being flung away from Bucky. Who at this point was starting to look a bit alarmed. Swearing and cursing in his native tongue, M’Baku tossed aside the club he picked up; glaring at Shuri all the while as she laughs at them. “You! the hell kind of puzzle is this?”

“Work it out!” Grinning without restraint, Shuri moves to get a better view to film them. Tony had picked himself up already and was examining the ball closely, his face drawn into a contemplative scowl as he nudges the ball this way and that. While an anxious Bucky looks on.

Shaking his head bemusedly, T’Challa makes his way over to his sister. Seemingly unable to keep his eyes off of the trio, a grin forming on his own face; watching M’Baku trying to pry the edges open. Seeming determined to use brute force to solve this issue.  

“What is that sister?”

“It’s a toy, I came up with the idea for it last week while trying to solve that puzzle Nakia got me. Who better to test it than our guests?”

The cheeky, shit eating grin Shuri has speaks volumes as to how much joy this is bringing her. Watching one of the smartest people on the earth, try and solve something she made. And from the looks of it, Tony seems to be enjoying solving it.

The Omega is grinning as another idea of M’Baku’s fails, meaning that the large alpha will have to bend to the balls will and try and solve it. Already Tony is making suggestions as he converses quietly with the two alphas. T’Challa smiles as he watches before remembering why he came here in the first place.

“I must speak with Tony soon as you guys are finished here Shuri, we found something on the plane.”

“What did you find brother?”

“Trouble I fear, Hammer tech was on board…”

Frowning at that, Shuri looks up at her brother confused.

“Hammer tech? On Tony’s plane?”

Nodding, T’Challa watches as Tony starts to move sections of the ball, lining up the purple lines and pressing grooves to move other parts within. The genius seemed to be doing well at first, confidently moving the ball around. Until Suddenly Tony comes to a stop and looks a bit stumped. His hands hovering but hesitating. Humming lightly, Tony converses with the other two who now seem more focused, all three looking closely as they can at the puzzle.

Watching the trio was giving T’Challa ideas for team building exercise; also, a way to prank Okoye for her antelope in headlights comment.

After a further 20 minutes of watching the trio try and solve the ball; Tony knows he’s close to solving it, he was just struggling to work out the last bit to finally free Bucky from the wretched thing! Shuri finally takes pity and gives them a hint, a gentle nudge in the right direction. “You idiots” Shuri laughs as she walks over to them, “try turning that part the other way and press that symbol…there see! Not that hard!”

Grinning down at the three grown men with wicked delight, Shuri carefully picks up the ball and way from Bucky’s poor legs.

“That is some genius engineering there kiddo,” Pulling himself to his feet, Tony smiles at the teen, he genuinely means what he say and he cannot wait to see what this kid will bring into the future. Dusting off his clothes while M’Baku helps Bucky to his feet behind him, Tony spots T’Challa nearby finally.

“Tony, I would like to speak with you if you are well enough to?”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Tony makes his way over. Unaware of twin looks of concern that follow him out of the room.

Leading Tony to another, more private room, T’Challa gestures for Tony to take a seat at a sleek glass table. Taking a seat next to Tony T’Challa offers the omega some water and food that he had sent to this room before hand for them.

“How are you feeling Stark?”

Puffing out his cheeks as he leans back into the stupidly comfortable chair, Tony takes some sort of sweet bread and takes a nibble. Humming his approval as he swallows.

“These are great! What is it called? Pep would love these,” Taking another bite Tony turns his attention fully onto T’Challa. “I’m not to bad actually, which is nothing short of a miracle if I recall I was in a hell of a lot of pain earlier. When you found me that is. While I’m impressed by the medical care, I really wish I hadn’t been on the receiving end of it”

Chuckling a bit in agreement, T’Challa nods at that, “agreed, we had planned on showing you that stuff but well, I do often hear you like to try things yourself”

Snorting, Tony stuffs another bite down his throat, he likes T’Challa. The guy is down to earth and relatable, not at all stuck up like you would expect from someone from a high standing in life. Like how Tony was in his youth.

Pulling on a more serious face now, T’Challa leans forwards a bit. “Stark-“ “Tony”

“Tony” T’Challa smiles briefly at the correction but continues, “we found something on your plane that we believe shouldn’t have been onboard. I would like to confirm it with you.”

Pausing in his eating, Tony gestures for T’Challa to carry on as he drinks some water. T’Challa fortunately, waits till Tony has put his drink down before explaining what he found. Describing the charred object as best as he can and even brings up a picture that Okoye sent him. Humming contemplatively, Tony regards the object with interest.

“We found something else on this object, a lead.” T’Challa switches the picture to show the logo that they had found.

Hands closing into tight fists on the table where his arms were resting, Tony glares at the image, the all to familiar logo making his jaw clench in anger.

“Hammer…how the fuck did Justin get that on bored?” seething internally, Tony practically spits out Justin’s name as if it was bile in his mouth. “I’m going to need a phone to contact Jarvis or a computer, need to get Jarvis to retrieve some footage so I can find out how exactly that weasel pulled this off,”

“of course,” T’Challa soothes as he gets rids of the images, his voice soft and comforting as he speaks to the upset omega. “Shuri should be able to help you in the lab, if you would like I can have my people review the footages for you? You still need rest Tony, despite how well you may feel. It took a lot of energy to heal you”

Rubbing a hand over his face, its true that despite the amazing healing he had received, Tony was still very tired and starting to get a bit shaky on his feet. His stomach rumbling loudly for food even though food was the last thing on his mind right then.

While Tony so wanted to go through it all himself, he knew that what T’Challa was offering made more sense. Tony needs to rest and heal properly.

Damn, it seems that Tony was finally growing up and accepting help.

Huffing in tired amusement at his thoughts, Pepper would probably have a heart attack if she was here. Tony nods at T’Challa.

“I’ll tell Jarvis to send them to Shuri then, thankyou T’Challa,”

Inclining his head at Tony, T’Challa stands and helps Tony stand, leading him back to the lab where M’Baku and Bucky were still hanging around near Shuri. Both quickly standing to attention when Tony came back and both taking note of how tired Tony suddenly seemed again.

“I shell ask for more food to be sent,” M’Baku murmurs quietly before walking quickly away to the door. Shuri shouting after him to send it to the guest room that has been prepared for Tony.

“You ok Doll?”

Tony peeks up at Bucky, his face drawn up in concern as he takes a few hesitant steps towards Tony. Flashing Bucky a tired grin, Tony nods at him.

“Just need some food and rest Buckaroo, saving your ass from the Vibranium ball was hard work,”

Relaxing a bit at that, a shy grin on his own face, Bucky chuckles at that. “I make a good Damsel though, you gotta admit”

“Eh 6/10”

“As amusing as this is, Tony should rest,” Shuri grins at them, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes. “Tony, your room is right next to Bucky’s. I hope that’s ok? It’s in a private wing of the palace”

Hesitantly Tony seems to mull over something in his mind before quietly speaking, “Are the others in that wing as well?”

The others he’s referring to of course being the rouge Avengers. Steve, Natasha, Sam and Clint and Wanda. The fights of what was dubbed the ‘Civil War’ were still to fresh for Tony, His anger at Steve still to raw.

Tony’s come to understand their view, in fact he pretty much always did, but he could also understand the public’s view. Tony had also had enough time since the fights, to calm down and think more rationally about the Winter Soldier being the one to kill his parents. Not an accident like he had thought.

The anger that was once the forefront emotion whenever he thought about it, had turned to pity and sadness for Bucky. Tony was not proud of how he reacted, being usually so clear headed in battles and able to keep a distance from the situation to not allow his emotions to rule him.

Tony was hoping to bend that bridge with Bucky, if the poor guy was willing to of course.

Understanding Tony’s fears T’Challa shook his head, “The former Avengers have rooms elsewhere. We gave Bucky the area your rooms are in because he asked for a room away from everyone while he still had active triggers. They are, thankfully, gone now. It will just be you two”

Shoulders relaxing minutely, Tony nods at that.

“Care to show me the way Metallica?”

Confused at that reference but deciding not to ask for now, Bucky agrees to show Tony the way. Keeping his strides short and slow for Tony so that the omega isn’t rushing after the Bucky, they leave the room. Leaving the Wakandan siblings and a few working lab techies behind.

[nascentflash]

never-ending survey: j’lihmu

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs! 

tagged by:@violet-warder​ (thank you so much!)

tagging: honestly? anyone that wants to do it! (i don’t know who actually got tagged already) you are more than welcomed to tag me :>

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :  J’lihmu Rhatni

NICKNAME : Crimson, Li

AGE :  25

BIRTHDAY :   19th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (5/19)

ETHNIC  GROUP : Miqo’te (Seeker of the Sun)/ Elezen (Wildwood)

NATIONALITY : Ul’Dahn

LANGUAGE / S : Common, a hit of Hingan/Doman (broken)

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION : Demisexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : Panromantic

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  Taken (Single in some AUs)

HOME  TOWN / AREA :  Abalathia’s Spine/Sky Frost

CURRENT  HOME :  The Lavender Beds — a small home she bought herself.

PROFESSION : Hunter, mercenary, the good ol’ Warrior of Light resume being handed out.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Naturally red with orange highlights.

EYES : A bright green.

FACE : Resting bitch face syndrome, always /annoyed, slightly round.

LIPS :Full, tinted with the same color as her eye paint.

COMPLEXION : Slightly tanned.

BLEMISHES :None.

SCARS : Littered across her body, reminder of the victories — or losses — she always came out alive.

TATTOOS :  Tattoos litter her form, it is part of her tribe back home. Her arms are covered, legs, and back.

HEIGHT :  5′2″.

WEIGHT : 143lbs.

BUILD : Athletic.

FEATURES :  Large, somewhat almond shaped eyes, small, slightly refined nose, both ears pierced and longer than the normal miqo’te.

ALLERGIES :  None.

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  When long — messy, unkempt until told otherwise. A large braid would encompass a portion of her hair, and the other wild and free. Sometimes in a large, messy bun when she’s working, or doing anything out of battle. Short — has now a tendency to keep it up to date with oils and minerals, making sure her hair is looking better than before. She would not have it in a braid, with the exception of one on her side or most of her hair swept away from her face.

USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Thick painted eye-makeup, whether blue (for her tribe) or red (for herself), lips tinted red. Besides that, she has no other make up on her whatsoever. It is rare to see her without her tribal paint unless she’s at home, relaxing.

USUAL  CLOTHING :   Leather, furs/coats, jewelry made from bones of bears long dead from her home. However, she adapts and changes depending where she is. Example; in Kugane, she is seen wearing more of their traditional outfits in some instances, but will always opt for the good ol’ tank top and shorts if she can get away with it. Yes, even under the kimono.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Failure (more so towards her WoL than anything else), falling to her Inner Beast, death— in a sense.

ASPIRATION / S :  To achieve greatness and be worthy of remembrance outside the confines of her tribe. To eventually help lead a line of new, young warriors from her tribe.

POSITIVE  TRAITS : Confident, resourceful, passionate, outspoken.

NEGATIVE  TRAITS : Short-tempered, impatient, competitive, ruthless.

MBTI : ESTP-A/ESTP-T

ZODIAC : Azeyma (?T-Taurus?)

TEMPERAMENT :  Choleric.

SOUL  TYPE / S :   Warrior.

ANIMALS :  Bear.

VICE HABIT / S :   Isolation, punching the wall a couple of times until her knuckles bleed in anger, running head on in battle and not tending to her wounds.

FAITH : Questionable, leaning on no beliefs.

GHOSTS ? : Yes.

AFTERLIFE ? : Believer.

REINCARNATION ? :  Believer.

ALIENS ? :  ????

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : The only time she gave a shit is when things started going down in Ishgard, just to be spiteful to Ul’Dah later honestly. Would care for her tribes political shenanigans, but thats about it.

EDUCATION  LEVEL :  Home-schooled in a sense. Her father and the elders of the village taught her all she knows to a point.

FAMILY.

FATHER : Close.

MOTHERS :  Estranged, trying her best tm.

SIBLINGS : ...Complicated (Half-siblings are a handful)

EXTENDED  FAMILY : Many, but she does not know her mother’s side, only her father’s.

NAME MEANING / S : Her name has no meaning, but, if you asked her father—J’zahlu would say it reminded him of the sun.

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : No..?

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  Intricate pages describing worlds she will never know.

DEITY : Azeyma.

HOLIDAY :  Starlight Celebration.

MONTH : October.

SEASON :  Autumn.

PLACE : Mountaintops with caves, deep within, a system of caves that lead you to the deepest part of home.

WEATHER : Sunny and cloudy days.

SOUND / S: The sound of metal clashing unto one another, the sound of rain hitting the earth.

SCENT / S :  Damp caverns, burnt fur, perfumes.

TASTE / S :  Sweets, orange, blood.

FEEL / S : Fur, cold floor, rough skin, broken wood.

ANIMAL / S :  Bears, hunting hawks, paissa — who is now her son, don’t @ me 

NUMBER : 18.

COLORS : Vermilion, black, gold, aquamarine, orange.

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Existing, hunting, beating people at bars, talking shit about powerful people because she knows she can’t be killed, headbutting is her specialty.

BAD  AT :  Loss, dancing, drinking — she will fall asleep or drunk fight, who knows.

TURN  ONS : Men — large hands, broad build, scars, messy hair, independent. Women — someone who can kick ass, makes her laugh, independent.

TURN  OFFS : Attention-seekers, arrogance, stupidity, carelessness — basically what she does what else is new.

HOBBIES :Hunting, people watching, trying to be a good blacksmith, mining — it’s therapeutic.

TROPES : Green-Eyed Redhead, Fiery Redhead, An Axe to Grind [idk a lot im baby]

QUOTES : “If one more noble attempts to be snotty with me, he’s about to get his ass ripped open by my axe.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :  If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

—The Lost Crucible, it would be filmed like a documentary, so to speak, switching from third POV [narrator] to first POV [dumb catgirl] that would be finding out about her tribe, and the trial young warriors go through. 

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

— Songs that remind you of a time when you’re one in nature; drums that give you that itch to move and dance to the beat, to appease the old and new gods, whatever you believe in. It would be of her home — where the village barely touches the heavens itself.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?          

— I did it in a way to sort of make a new oc from an old oc, so to speak. The OG version, as you could call it, is vastly different and I kept making lots of jokes with her when I name changed and eventually she just started to slowly build up.

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

— It’s a mixture of self insert, so finding a way to incorporate stuff into my own character is what sort of ... made her my lovable daughter. She’s not all self-insert, her attitude, her anger, her sorrow, her accomplishments and failures and imagines on how she would deal with X and Y is just absolutely fascinating for me and having a fierce miqo’te hailing from the snowy mountain tops of Abalathia’s Spine who’s tiny with a big axe is my aesthetic okay.

Q5 :  Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

— Her desire to keep things quiet until the last second—mostly when it’s about her. Anything related to her life, her health, her problems, she’d rather deal with them alone. Even if there’s been major character improvement, there are some things she does not feel comfortable sharing, or letting people in. Her desire for more power so she can finally be at peace.

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

— We are both stubborn bitches. However, she deals with things far better than I ever could, as I am baby. Similar in arrogance, and in anger — to a point.

Q7 :   How does  your muse feel about  you?          

— She’d fucking kick my ass. I think she would appreciate me, and not be as bully as with others — not because I am her mun, but more so as I think we’d clash a lot but get along quite well, too.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

— I, unfortunately haven’t had a lot of interactions with Li trying to be nice, or fight somebody but— people like her, who are broken yet continue on. Who carry a mantle too big to carry and they do it anyways. Fighters that only know how to fight, when she eventually wants peace, but that will never leave her soul. People so nice that it makes her want to protect them; to view the world the way they see it. Warriors, even if they are not from the same village, are all brethren to one another and the desire to meet and see how they live out their lives — just a handful of stuff in my head I’d like to see.

That and a bar fight, she really is the one who would start a bar fight drunk or angry okay. Also nobles. She sort of hates them cause of her mom but then eventually doesn’t and it’s awkward asf.

Q9 :  What gives  you inspiration  to write  your muse ?        

—Vikings, Game of Thrones aesthetics of the Dothraki tribe, anything tribal honestly. The existential dread that is Nier: Automata, some Fire Emblem aesthetics, a lot of stuff honestly.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?          

— I STARTED YESTERDAY. I finished late today cause my last two braincells hate everything