#odd. very odd. also I had it’s been so long by the living tombstone stuck in my head the entire exam

[hella1975]

i can’t believe not even 24 hours ago i was in an exam like that still feels like something i hallucinated

[kaondecay]

Yes Wolfwood as Judas, but also Wolfwood as a psychopomp? I feel like that’s closer to how he sees himself, anyway. Not a priest, but an undertaker. Once Knives/the Eye of Michael decides someone should die, there’s no saving them; if Wolfwood didn’t do it, someone else would. Really, they’re already dead- Nico’s just taking them across the river.

Being assigned to keep Vash *alive* for so long is an odd twist, but (at least in the beginning) it’s not hard to convince himself it’s just more of the same- it’s not the first time he’s gained a target’s trust so he can lead them to their death. Vash is just another dead man walking.

In Stampede specifically, the incident with Rollo highlights how he doesn’t quite see himself as “one of the living” either- he thinks he & Rollo are inhuman. Really, they both died a long time ago, and it’s just a cruel trick of fate that they’re stuck haunting this godforsaken desert world until the Eye of Michael is done with them. (Wolfwood is just “one really well-prepared dead guy”, hauling his own tombstone everywhere he goes.) Letting Rollo finally cross over is a mercy. So it’s jarring for him to see Vash treat Rollo like he was still a person, like there was anything left for him in the world of the living, like his death was anything but an exorcism. Wolfwood can convince himself Vash is just naïve, but it still puts the first crack of doubt in his worldview.

The sand steamer turns that crack into a fracture. Wolfwood believes that death is the only mercy he can give Livio right up until Vash knocks his shot off-target. The stubborn seed of Vash’s hope digs its little roots into the gravestone Wolfwood made himself, and Nico allows it for the sake of his baby brother- if any of the Eye of Michael’s lost souls deserve a miracle, Livio does. (and it *works*, if only for a second! And then he and Vash undo the death sentence Legato set on the orphanage, and it gets much harder for Wolfwood to keep writing himself and Vash off as a couple of ghosts who just haven’t found their graves yet.)

It doesn’t stop him from doing his job guiding Vash to the gates of the underworld in the end, but at that point it’s clear Vash is headed that way regardless of Wolfwood’s intentions. (Could the Grim Reaper stop an angel from walking straight into Hell, if the angel wanted to?) But afterwards he’s released from his contract, and his first act as a free man is saving Meryl's life, which is about as direct a rejection of the psychopomp role as it gets.

I don't think it'll save him in the end, but I'd love to see Wolfwood have a shot at being an Actual Fully Living Person for a while- 98 Wolfwood never really got the chance, and Maximum Wolfwood ran off to get himself killed pretty quickly after rejecting his role by saving Vash from the ship. Wolfwood's biggest tragedy in the other 2 iterations is that he came *so close* to attaining a peaceful life surrounded by people he loves- a life he didn't even let himself want until it was too late, because he thought he'd given up too much of his humanity to ever deserve it. Only at the very end does he see that his ticket had been blank all along- he was never really a spectre of Death, he'd been a living human person this whole time, and the people he cared about loved and accepted him for who he was. It had all been within his reach.

(Except that it wasn't, because this is The Story Where Wolfwood Dies, but that's a whole different thing. Narratively he was a psychopomp after all but in the end he guided himself across too or something. idk.)

[upsidedowninmyworld]

All of them? :$

I can’t sleep. Why not

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? The height I am now

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not) Hmm...Gizmo

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? Anything comfortable really

4: What was your favorite video game growing up? Sonic

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: My partner, my future, and what it all holds

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? Very quiet, slow to anger but proceed with caution

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]? 🤷🏻‍♀️

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] uhh when I took this test in high school, I was melancholic

9: Are you ticklish? Yes

10: Are you allergic to anything? Loads

11: What’s your sexuality? Bisexual

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? Cocoa

13: Are you a cat or dog person? Cat

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? Hmm vampire

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? I did

16: How tall are you? 5’2”

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? I like mine

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] too much for me to be comfortable

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? Yes

20: Do you like space or the ocean more? Uhh I like both equally

21: Are you religious? Kind of

22: Pet peeves? When people touch my stuff without asking. Bad breath

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]? Nocturnal

24: Favorite constellation? Not sure

25: Favorite star? Not sure

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? No?

27: Any phobias or fears? Not saying

28: Do you think global warming is real? Yes

29: Do you believe in reincarnation? Not really

30: Favorite movie? Forrest Gump

31: Do you get scared easily? No lol

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? 5?

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] what?

34: What is a color that calms you? Blue

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? Australia, London

36: Where were you born? LA

37: What is your eye color? Brown

38: Introvert or extrovert? Intro

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? No lol

40: Hugs or kisses? Kisses

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? Cody

42: Who is someone you love deeply? Cody

43: Any piercings you want? Second ear piercings

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? Yes

45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so? Before

46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! He’s pretty great. Been with them for almost 4 years :)

47: What is a sound you really hate? A certain person’s voice

48: A sound you really love? The ocean

49: Can you do a backflip? Not anymore

50: Can you do the splits? If I stretch, yes

51: Favorite actor and/or actress? Natalie Dorner and Ed skrein atm

52: Favorite movie? I already answers this

53: How are you feeling right now? Tired

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? Half white half Black

55: When did you feel happiest? I think it’s been a while

56: Something that calms you down? Writing or drawing

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] nothing diagnosed

58: What does your URL mean? My world is odd

59: What three words describe you the most? Quiet, contemplative weird

60: Do you believe in evolution? Yes

61: What makes you unfollow a blog? Posting things I don’t like

62: What makes you follow a blog? Posting things I like

63: Favorite kind of person: a genuinely nice person that is honest

64: Favorite animal(s): pandas, otters

65: Name three of your favorite blogs. 🤷🏻‍♀️

66: Favorite emoticon: 😻

67: Favorite meme: I have too many

68: What is your MBTI personality type? I can’t remember

69: What is your star sign? Uhhh Pisces...?

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? Yes

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? A black shirt and jeans with converse

72: Post a selfie or two? No thank you

73: Do you have platform shoes? I do!

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? I can bend my thumb all the way to my arm

75: Can you do a front flip? Not anymore

76: Do you like birds? Sure

77: Do you like to swim? Love it

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? Swimming for sure

79: Something you wish didn’t exist: not saying

80: Some thing you wish did exist: someone that is no longer here

81: Piercings you have? Just my ears for now

82: Something you really enjoy doing: reading

83: Favorite person to talk to: Cody

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? I like this site

85: How many followers do you have? Uhh I haven’t looked in a while

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? I use. To lol

87: Do your socks always match? Yes

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? Yes

89: What are your birthstones? Aquamarine

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? Panda or a cat

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? A rose

92: A store you hate? Hmmm not sure

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? I don’t

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? Read minds

95: Do you like to wear camo? On occasion

96: Winter or summer? Winter

97: How long can you hold your breath for? About 30-45 seconds

98: Least favorite person? HAHA

99: Someone you look up to: my dad

100: A store you love? Any bookstore lol

101: Favorite type of shoes. Converse

102: Where do you live? In LA

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? Nope

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? I don’t have one?

105: Do you drink milk? Yes

106: Do you like bugs? No

107: Do you like spiders? Yes

108: Something you get paranoid about? The future

109: Can you draw: kind of

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? How sex was with a person I slept with or how I could stand sleeping next to ex because he snores really loudly. Like freight train loud

111: A question you hate being asked? Who’s the smarter or prettier twin. I usually get that I’m smarter

112: Ever been bitten by a spider? Yes

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? I do

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? Cloudy

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: codes

116: Favorite cloud type: what

117: What color do you wish the sky was? Purple

118: Do you have freckles? No

119: Favorite thing about a person: clean hands

120: Fruits or vegetables? Fruits

121: Something you want to do right now: see someone

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? Ocean

123: Sweet or sour foods? Sour

124: Bright or dim lights? Bright

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? Sure

126: Something you hate about Tumblr: 🤷🏻‍♀️

127: Something you love about Tumblr: 🤷🏻‍♀️

128: What do you think about the least? Work

129: What would you want written on your tombstone? 🤷🏻‍♀️

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? HA

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? My mind

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures? Yes

133: Computer or TV? Computer

134: Do you like roller coasters? Yes

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? It depends

136: Are your ears lobed or attached? Attached

137: Do you believe in karma? Sure

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? Like an 8 on a good day

139: What nicknames do you have/have had? Quite a few

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? Yes

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? Yes

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? Good

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? Both

144: What makes you angry. A lot

145: How many languages do you speak fluently? One

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? I’m bi soooo

147: Are you androgynous? No

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: my butt lol

149: Favorite thing about your personality: my ability to see the good in everyone even when they’re shitty. Also my least favorite thing about myself

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. Well my dad, Cody, my grandma

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? The one rn because I am a minority

152: Do you like BuzzFeed? Sure

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.] uhh dating app. Technically a football game.

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? No

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? Just codys

156: What embarrasses you? Not a lot

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: the future because I can’t really talk about it with anyone without stressing people out. But it helps me feel less anxious so I’m kind of stuck

158: Biggest lie you have ever told: oof

159: How many people are you following? 🤷🏻‍♀️

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? 🤷🏻‍♀️

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)?🤷🏻‍♀️

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)?🤷🏻‍♀️

163: Last time you cried and why: ooh like a few days ago

164: Do you have long or short hair? Short

165: Longest your hair has ever been: to my butt

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon? I don’t want to answer this

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? Yes

168: Do you like to wear makeup? Yes

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? No

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? Yes

[gimmeyoon]

Slayer: Call It Magic

   ✰ pairing: warlock!Jimin x Slayer!reader

   ✰ setting: Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU (part 4)

   ✰ word count: 5.6 k

   ✰ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, violence, heavy angst, smut (oral (f), bondage, choking, degradation,  )

   ✰ summary: ❝Yoongi has been missing for months and the Slayer has lost focus because of it. Jimin offers to brew her a potion that should mend her broken heart.❞

Prev | Next

    It's strange the way the world keeps turning even when you're certain it won't. It's almost unsettling how unchanged things are. The demons keep maiming, killing, or bringing about the apocalypse, and you still head to the front lines to defend the world and all the good that is in it. Even when it feels like there is no good in it.

    You haven't seen Yoongi in a month now, the pain of it all only slightly better. Namjoon's seen him. He checked in with your watcher a week ago when he heard a demon had plans to kill you.

    Jungkook said after the demon was long dead that he could smell Yoongi the whole fight.

    He had still be watching, ensuring your safety.

    You wish he had stepped out of the shadows long enough for you to stake him. Or maybe to hold him. You weren't sure.

    He was staying in the city nearby. Jimin had scried for him just to make sure he wasn't dead. He found him ten miles away. Close enough that you could track him down and kill him if you really wanted to.

    Maybe that's why you knew if he did come out of the shadows you would welcome him back with open arms.

    You felt weak for even thinking that.

    "All of the demon's victim's are young people who have given into one of the seven deadly sins," Namjoon said, pulling your attention back to the meeting.

   Your watcher had called the Scooby gang together after he got a tip that the police reports on the most recent murders all had some unexplainable elements. Namjoon, of course, could explain them. The supernatural was afoot.

    "Wait," Jimin said, sitting up straighter. "You're telling me all of the things my grandma tried to tell me about sin was real?"

    "Well," Namjoon said, looking a bit uncomfortable at the question. "That depends, do I know if you will be ultimately judged by one specific higher power? No, I don't know. Do I know that there is a demon that specifically targets people based on what also happens to be the seven deadly sins? Yes. Yes there is."

   "Maybe he'll come for me," you said, looking down at your hands and sighing.

   "Way to keep the mood up, kid," Jimin said, patting you on the shoulder.

   "I've got a lot of wrath," you said turning to look at him.

    "Yes, and I'm the king of lust, so let's not bring any 'maybe he'll come for me' energy into this room," Jimin replied.

    "_____ has a point," Namjoon said, pushing his glasses further up his nose bridge. "We should always be vigilant."

    "How does he feel about cursed humans?" Jungkook asked, earning a punch in the arm from Jimin.

    "Oh, so you're cool if you're safe? What about the rest of us?"

    "What about former demons turned human?"

    "Hey!"Jimin said turning to Taehyung. "Since when is it every man for himself?"

    "I just want to know how vigilant I should be?" Jungkook grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking further down in his chair.

    "At least you have magic," Jin said. "I'm a sitting duck, waiting for this demon to get me."

    "What's your vice?" Jimin asked.

    Jin shrugged. "Depends on the day."

    "It might be easier if we all die," you said, not thinking much before letting that thought out.

    "Yes, but then we'd miss the annual Kappa Alpha Tau roast and toast, miss doom and gloom," Jimin said turning in his seat to look at you. "And I for one want to get drunk and eat pork in the middle of the day for no reason one more time before I die."

    "You have to be invited,” Jin said, earning a scoff from Jimin.

    “As if I haven’t had my date with the one gay guy in the fraternity lined up since Fall.”

    “Maybe Yoongi’s gay,” you said. “Maybe he realized that and that’s why he left town.”

    “For some homoerotic self-discovery?” Taehyung said.

    “Well, Vampires are usually described as being bisexual in the literature on them,” Namjoon said, drawing everyone’s attention across the table to him. “The act of drinking blood can be very erotic and as they don’t discriminate against victims based on gender.”

    “So, he is gay?” Jin asked.

    “I don’t mean to presume someone’s sexuality,” Namjoon quickly added, shutting the book in front of him. “I just meant to present the facts for a fuller understanding of vampire sexuality.”

    “We’re all a little gay,” Jimin said with a shrug. “Jin said he’d suck my dick once for a cup of coffee.”

    “That was hyperbolic,” Jin said, eyes wide.

    “Is dick sucking an acceptable form of currency among humans?” Taehyung asked.

    “Depends who you ask,” Jimin said just as Jungkook and Namjoon replied in the negative. “Oh, so I’m the only one?”

    “It’s prostitution,” Namjoon said, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re looking for, Taehyung.”

    Jimin frowned. “Respect sex workers.”

    “I might as well have prostituted myself,” you said, earning a sigh from Jimin.

    “No, you slept with a guy and he didn’t call you back. Welcome to the very real world of human problems.”

     “At least I would have gotten something out of it if I had prostituted myself.”

     “Very true,” Jimin said, earning another dismissive look from Namjoon. “The moral of the story is never sleep with anyone without securing the bag first. Love is dead.”

    “My heart is dead,” you agreed.

    The room went silent as your friends all looked back at you an uneasy look on all of their faces. This was becoming a very familiar look.

    “So, a demon is murdering people,” Jin said breaking the silence.

    “Yes,” Namjoon said, nodding his head slowly. “We should patrol.”

    “Okay,” you said, standing from your seat and grabbing your stake off of the table.

    “We,” Namjoon said, standing as well. “Plural.”

    “Nosotros,” Taehyung said, causing everyone to look at him. “What? I speak seven demon languages, but you draw the line at Spanish? That’s racist.”

    The Scooby gang minus Jin and any vampires that may or may not want to be a part of the group, all go patrolling through campus. It's odd, having so many people with you. Occasionally Namjoon would join you, especially when had his suspicions that you might skip it for a party or other various social event, but having Jimin and Jungkook, basically undertrained humans, with you. That was weird.

     You accidentally bumped into Jimin when both of you rounded the same mausoleum and a you were inches away from piercing his throat with a stake. He looked back at you with wide eyes that seemed to wake you up from whatever haze you were in, but only for a moment.

    Sometimes you find yourself looking at your own life like a spectator. Like you know you're no fun to be around right now. You can hear yourself whining, feel yourself losing focus, but you can't stop yourself. You can't make your heart hurt less and its infuriating sometimes.

    It feels like Yoongi stole something from you.

    Like right now, you know your lack of focus is why Jungkook and Jimin are risking their lives. Namjoon, this was his job. He had killed plenty of demons without your help. But Jungkook and Jimin? This was not easy for them.

    Jungkook was basically a human who got a little hormonal three nights a month. Jimin was a novice witch with little to no fighting skills. Yet they stood beside you as your rocks. As the one's here to ensure you didn't die tonight. It was unfair of you.

    Still you couldn't get your head on straight.

    It was like watching someone else live your life. Like you were controlling yourself in a game of Sims but couldn't get your character to respond for some reason. Probably needed to restart the whole game.

    What was the real life equivalent of restarting the game? Cutting all of your hair off, moving to a new city, and adopting a new name and accent?

    But you liked your hair and didn't have enough money to move to a new city.

    So you seemed to be stuck like this.

    The demon has bright red eyes. You stare into them, seemingly unable to move. You're not sure why, it's like he has a power over you, but he doesn't. Not in actuality. Yet you stand frozen right in front of him.

    He roars in anger, one of his large clawed hands coming up to slap your face, sending you tumbling to the ground.

    Jimin shouts something that you can't make out as your ears ring from the blow.

    Jungkook reaches you first, pulling you away from the demon and behind a tombstone, one next to where Jimin is chanting something, holding a crystal in his hand. You try to identify it, but Jungkook blocks your view as he crouches down in front of you to see if you're okay.

    You don't respond immediately to his inquiry, causing his eyes to widen in fear.

    "I'm fine," you said, shaking your head slowly to try and wake yourself up. "Namjoon?"

    "Right," Jungkook said, standing up and running back towards the demon.

    You're able to stand up slowly, and as you turn back to the demon, you watch as Namjoon swings a scythe, taking the demons head off with one blow.

    "That was close," Jimin said, taking your hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. "You good?" You nodded your head in response as you dropped his hand. "I'm okay but I'm not okay."

    "Yeah, I know," he said, following behind you as you walked to join Namjoon. "It's going to get better though."

    You spend more days as a ghost, your physical body being present but your mind being far away.

    You feel yourself just existing, though at the same time the days seem to blur together. Each one seemingly as insufferable as the next. You have never been happy, you are sure of it. Life has always been darkness.

    "_____ will agree with me," Jungkook said, calling you attention back to the group.

    You've actually left your apartment today to get lunch with Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook after Jimin promised to buy you a cake pop for your sorrows. It hadn't been as effective as you had hoped.

    "Hm?" you mused, as you picked at your lunch.

    "Should Jimin sign Taehyung up for Tinder?"

    "All dating is suffering," you said with a shrug.

    Jungkook seemed to hesitate for a moment before turning towards Jimin. "I think that counts as a no, so I was right she sides with me."

    "There is something seriously wrong with you," Taehyung side, causing both Jungkook and Jimin to turn quickly towards the former demon.

    "Tae, we try not to tell people they have something wrong with them when they are going through emotional trauma," Jungkook said, earning only a noncommittal head nod from Taehyung.

    "I mean he's not wrong," Jimin said, offering you a small smile. "I've been looking into potions."

    "To fix me?" you said, looking around the table, a bit embarrassed. You knew you weren't at the top of your game, but it was never nice to hear your friends were actively looking for ways to improve you.

    "There's nothing wrong with you," Jimin said, shaking his head. "I just want to make it hurt less."

    "So you've found a potion that'll rip out my heart and any emotions I have ever had and/or ever will have?"

    Jungkook's eyes went wide at your remark before he turned to Jimin to wait for his answer.

    "No, it's a potion to mend a broken heart," he said. "We're not turning you into a robot."

    "Not even if I ask nicely?"

    "Can you do that?" Taehyung asked, leaning forward on the table.

    "No," Jimin said. "Well, I mean, I don't think so."

    "Lame," you said, earning a scoff from Jimin.

    "At least you still have your sense of humor," he deadpanned.

    So that's how you end up at Jimin's apartment three days later, on the new moon.

    You like his apartment, it's changed a lot since he discovered Wicca. It's usually dark, his preferred method of illumination being vintage lamps and candles. Velvet curtains stop any outside light from entering, and his opulence is accented with a velvet couch he got from his grandmother and the velvet throw blanket and velvet pillows on the floor next to it. It's a sea of darkness and velvet.

    He's in the kitchen when you invite yourself into his home. He never locks it, even after learning that all of the horror stories he was told as a child are real. Or at least most of them. Still no word on Bloody Mary.

    His argument is that vampires need permission to enter your home. You almost thank God you never invited Yoongi over. Your apartment will always be free of him.

    "I'm making it now," he said as he acknowledged your presence.

    He's placed a small piece of rose quartz in a glass jar, surrounded by a nearly clear liquidly you can't identify, and rose oil which you ascertain by the bottle on the counter. he throws in Chamomile leaves almost as soon as you stop beside him.

    "You need to inhale this," he said, motioning towards the rose oil on the counter. "Relax your mind."

    "Easier said than done."

    "All I'm asking for is a good old college try from my favorite co-ed."

    You picture yourself floating in nothingness, clearing your mind until everything around you goes silent. Rose petals float around you as the scent fills your sense. For the first time in what feels like forever your brain actually stops yelling, even if for just a moment.

    "And now we let it charge," he said, drawing his line through the salt circle surrounding the jar and taking it to the balcony where he left it in the moonlight.

    "May I interest you in bad reality television?" he asked as he reentered his apartment.

    "Sure," you said, following him towards his couch. "I want to hate other people more than myself for a moment."

   "Don't hate yourself," he said, earning a glare from you. "I know, easier said than done."

    "Do you ever tell your brain to stop doing what it's doing, but it doesn't?"

    "Yeah, I get it," he said, pulling you into his side. "It's going to listen to you one day. Hopefully soon, if I'm actually a warlock."

    "Best warlock I know," You said, as you let yourself relax in his embrace.

    "Only warlock you know."

    You fall into comfortable silence as Jimin's terrible reality show of choice numbs your brain just enough to keep you content. He rubs small, slow circles into your arm as his head comes to rest on top of yours. Jimin is nothing if not comfortable to be around. He has the kind of presence that makes you feel at home no matter how well you know him.

    You've always liked that about him.

    "It's going to be okay, friend," Jimin said as the first episode came to an end. "I know it's not right now, but one day, one day you'll feel whole again."

    "How can you be so sure?" you asked, looking up at him.

    "Because you save the world. You can save yourself."

    That night, you don't rub the potion over your heart as Jimin instructed you to do before you left his place. Three times he told you exactly what to do, but you don't. You're not sure why, but as you hold the jar, something in you says to set it down on the table and go to sleep.

    You suppose in some ways Jimin becomes the potion. You find yourself at Jimin's almost every day that week, him always coming up with a new way to distract you. Your favorite was when the two of you went shopping for clothes that reminded you that you were in fact "that bitch." Your least favorite was when you, Jimin, and Jungkook went mini-golfing, as Jungkook insisted Jimin cheated using magic, and ended up breaking the club in half in his rage. That's how you all discovered the wolf was latent. Always ready to emerge. It wasn't how you had expected your night to go, though in the course of the last month or so it certainly wasn't the worst.

    Jimin manages to convince the whole gang to go see a movie together, even Hoseok shows up, which is perhaps the oddest experience you've had in recent memory. It's a horror movie, per your request. Namjoon and Jin scream like babies, Taehyung looks the happiest you've seen him perhaps ever.

    At some point you start to feel better. You're not sure exactly, when but one night as Jimin and you do homework together on his bedroom floor, you realize you're not waiting for Yoongi to walk in the door so you can stake him or hold him, the jury is still out on that one.

It's not life changing, you're not your old self again, but you feel slightly more at peace.

    You laugh easily for the first time in many moons. Jimin is telling you stories about his child hood, and the animated way he recounts them has you nearly rolling on the floor with laughter.

    "Can I say something and you promise to hear me out?" Jimin said, his bright smile causing you to mirror it.

    "Of course."

    "Of course," he laughed. "Like you ever listen to me."

    "I do," you defended, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "You're my best friend."

    "You don't listen to anyone," he said. "Especially not me. Maybe Namjoon, but I have several nights out with you to prove that you don't listen to him."

    "Get to it, or you'll piss me off so much I won't let you."

    "Okay," he laughed. "I think you should sleep with someone."

    "Oh, so you're a comedian now?" you said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Do I need to recount to you my past two sexual encounters?"

    "Please do, with detail," he said, earning another punch in the arm.

    "Seriously, I slept with a demon that tried to kill all of my friends and a vampire that hit it and quit it."

    "So sleep with a human," he said, to which you rolled your eyes. "Have you ever considered that both of those sucked because you slept with creatures of the underworld."

    "Are you kink shaming me?"

    "Never," he said, with a wink. "Seriously, find a nice, normal, safe guy and fuck him."

    "No," you said.

    "See, you don't listen to me."

    You laughed at this as Jimin's wide, accusing eyes stared you down. "Sorry, I can't be the hoe friend you always wanted."

    "I guess I'll forgive you."

    "Only if you can find it in your heart," you said, batting your eyelashes dramatically.

   Jimin and you laughed together as the two of you laid back on the floor, the melody of your friendship filling the room.

    "Seriously," Jimin said looking over at you as you lay side by side. "It helps me. Stressed? Fuck. Heart broken? Sex. Feeling the existential dread of life? Do the do."

    "You just think sex is the answer to everything."

    "That's because it is."

    "I just can't keep hooking up with people I barely know," you said, shaking your head. "I've put my trust blindly in two people and it was horrible."

   "What about me?" he asked.

    You shoved his shoulder, pushing him away from you. "What is this, an elaborate ploy to get into my pants?"

    "Fuck off," he laughed. "Someone explain to me why two friends can't fuck and still be friends after. I mean, your friends offer emotional support, so why can't they offer physical support when necessary. I'm not about to confess my love to you, no offense-"

    "None taken."

    "I just don't understand why two friends can't blow off some steam together."

    You lay there in silence for a moment, letting his words fully sink in. "Why is that a solid argument?"

    "I've been thinking about it for a while."

    "Okay," you said.

    "Okay, what?"

    "Okay, I'll do it."

    "Seriously?" Jimin asked, sitting up quickly. "I'm going to join the fucking debate team, I can't believe I convinced you."

    "But only when it feels right," you said, sitting up as well. "Right now it feels like a mediation. I want to be in the moment, feel sexy, want dick."

    "Fair," he said, giggling as he laid back down on the floor, looking up at the ceiling with mirth in his eyes.

    You're in the moment a week later at a party that Jimin dragged you too. It's at a frat you he   usually frequents and the two of you are easily pulled into the party atmosphere by his friends. You want to feel miserable but Jimin's making sure that it isn't, pulling you into his friends room to play drinking games.

    It's about 3 shots of tequila later that Jimin pulls you to the dance floor. It's innocent at first, him jokingly dancing to try and make you life, which is highly successful due to the aforementioned tequila shots. At some point the two of you start dancing normally but facing each other with enough room for Jesus and at least one if not two disciples to dance between the two of you.

   It's when a stranger unceremoniously starts grinding against you, that Jimin pulls you towards him, spinning you so that your back is flush to his body. You don't hesitate to continue moving your hips, grinding into him as his strong arms keep you against him.

    The hit and run grinder gets the message and leaves with his tail between his legs, and even though that is enough of a reason for you to return to your safe distance away from Jimin, you don't. The two of you stay body to body, moving to the rhythm together.

    And while you want to say this is what did it for you, that feeling him grow hard against you was what convinced you tonight was the night, you knew you would end up there before he'd even lead you to the main room to dance. It was earlier, when he pulled you into his side and laughed at a funny story his friend was telling that you knew. You wanted him, if only for the night.

    You're absolutely sure hours later as the two of you sit on his couch, greasy gas station food between the two of you as you watch the Kardashians. Jimin's saying something about how Scott is the only valid member of the family when your hand casually rests on his thigh and begins to move upwards.

    He just looks at you as if this is something that happens all of the time between the two of you. It almost makes you rip your hand away and return your attention back to the show. But there's the other part of you that takes it as a challenge.

    That part of you wins as you move so that you're straddling him, his hands almost instantly coming up to rest on your hips.

    "Can I help you?" he asks, a smirk slowly growing on his face.

    "I think we can help each other," you replied, your hands moving across the expanse of his chest.

    "I think you're right," he said, smiling as he pulled you as close as possible to his body.

    You're not sure who leans in first, maybe it's you, maybe it's him, but it doesn't matter as your mouths connect in a rushed kiss. It feels better than you expected, no trace of awkwardness as the two of you move together, your hips rotating against his crotch as your tongues dance together.

    When your hands move to his belt, Jimin stops you, his hands grabbing your wrists. "Bed," he said, moving his head in the direction of his room.

    You almost try to make a joke about him being bossy, but there's something in the way he looks at you that has your brain disconnecting from your mouth and leaving you at a loss for words, so you do what he says.

    "Strip," he said, as the two of you stood before his bed.

    You blush at how quickly you oblige, your skirt falling to the floor almost instantly. Jimin smiles in a way that lets you know he noticed, but he doesn't tease you. Instead, he closes the space between you and lightly caresses your face as he looks at you with fierce eyes.

    "Lie down for me, _____," he said, lightly pressing on your shoulder until you sat down on the edge of his bed.

    You feel safe and loved among the velvet and silk of his bed. Even as Jimin moves around the bed, looking at you with predatory eyes, you know there's no one else you trust more in this moment than him.

    "Are you sure?" he asked, coming to sit on the bed beside you and giving you a softer look than before.

    "I thought you were going to fuck me?" you said, smiling at him. "What are you? Afraid of the Slayer?"

    Jimin's gaze grows predatory again as he stands to his feet. "Snap," he said. "Do it."

    You did as he instructed, though not without a raise eyebrow and look of confusion.

    "I would have suggested a safe word," he said, smirking as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "But I'm afraid you might not be able to say anything with that pretty mouth of yours.

    "So this is what you're like," you mused, looking him up and down.

    "You've thought about me?" he asked, humor in his eyes.

    "You talk about sex all of the time, it's kind of hard not to."

    He laughed kissing you on the lips this time. "I've thought about you too, baby."

    "And how do you want me?" you asked, more confident than you perhaps should be considering his earlier warning.

    Instead of answering you, Jimin only smiles as he move to stand at the food of the bed. “Irretite.”

    You only notice the plants placed at the four corners of the bed as they stir at his words, the vines quickly growing to ensnare your limbs. You instinctively fight against them, but Jimin's magic ensures your bond and unable to move on his bed.

    "Now," he said, getting on the bed and resting between your legs. "Do you trust me to make you feel good?"

    "You and no one else," you said, your breathing already slightly erratic just at the sight of him.

    "That's what I like to hear," he said, kissing the inside of your thigh.

    He licks slowly up your cunt, pressing a light kiss to your clit, before looking up at you with those same predatory eyes. He sucks your clit into his mouth, causing your head to fall back into his pillows, his comforting scent filling your senses.

    He laps at your clit as he fingers your cunt, his movements precise and motivated by your sounds as they fill the room.

    You long to entangle your fingers in his hair, but despite your pulling at the vines, they don't let up. If anything you swear the tighten, but you don't mind as Jimin's attention to your body has your mind completely focused on him.

    “I always knew you were just a dirty little slut,” he said lookin up at you with dark eyes.

    There’s something in you that feels a stranger to this Jimin. His foreign words have you clenching around his fingers and yearning to pull your arms free and get your hands on him.

    You can feel your high approaching as two of his fingers fill you and another works circles into your clit, but just as you go to tell him to keep doing what he's doing, he pulls his hands away from you.

    "What?" he asked innocently, though the look on his face said differently. "I thought you trusted me?"

    "I do," you said breathily, panting as you felt your high disappear.

    "Good," he said, kissing your hip as he moved up your body. "I like it when you do as you’re told."

    "Please Jimin," you said, pulling against the vines. "Fuck me."

    "Only because you said please," he said, before leaning back on his heels and pulling his shirt over his head. It feels like torture as you long to run your hands over his defined abs, and it feels practically like murder as he slowly removes his pants. You want nothing more than to reach out and quickly rid him of them, but all you can do is whine as the vines tighten back around you.

    "None of that," he said, throwing his clothes into a corner of his room. "Behave, baby, and you'll get what you want."

    You don't shy away from staring at his hardened cock, the tip red and dripping with pre-cum. You almost moan at the size of it and the thought of it filling you up. "Give me what I want, and I'll behave."

    Jimin raised an eyebrow as his hands gripped tightly at your hips. "You might regret that."

    You go to respond, just as Jimin aligns himself with your core and immediately rams into you, not giving you any time to prepare. He gives you the small mercy of catching your breath before he starts setting his pace and rhythm.

    He grunts above you as he works to angle your hips so that he has better access to your g-spot, his face breaking into a proud grin as you let out a loud moan once he finds it.

    "I get it," you said, panting as one of Jimin's hands moved to play with your nipple. "I get why everyone wants to fuck you."

    "You gonna fall in love with me and my cock? Want to be my cock slut forever?" he teased, bending down to kiss your chest directly between your boobs, before slapping your ass. What ever happened to sour then sweet?

    "In your dreams, Park," you said, though the bite of the remark was cut short by the load moan that followed it as he spanked you again.

    "Oh, that most certainly will be," he said, picking up his pace.

    "Creep," you said, laughing a little, though regretting it as soon as Jimin didn’t follow suit.

    "If you don't have anything nice to say," Jimin said, giving you a dark look and yet another spank, the burn of your skin hard to ignore at this point. "Don't say anything at all."

    You considered his words for a moment, a thought hanging on the tip of your tongue. "Make me," you said, a thrill running through your chest and to your core at the thought of what he would do.

    Jimin raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Irretite," he said, causing another vine to stretch from the plant on his right bedside table and entangle itself around your neck.

    Your head feels light as the vine pulls tight around you, but you're not sure if it's the thrill of the danger or the actual lack of oxygen that does it.

    "Oh look at that," he said, a smirk on his face. "Looks like the Slayer's not so big and bad after all. You're weak for my cock. You couldn't fight it even if you wanted to, which you don't. Because you're just a cock slut pretending to be the chosen one, right?"

    A mumbled yes dies on your lips as the veins tighten around you, causing your eyes to roll back in pleasure.

    Jimin's thrusts seem more intent to be your undoing as he watches the vines on your throat with the sort of proud confidence you loved to see from him.

    His moans increase as he thrusts become sloppier, and as you cry out in ecstasy, Jimin drops the vines hold on you. He helps you ride out your orgasm, your hands reach for his arms on instinct, and when you finally reopen your eyes and look at him, you watch him pull out and stroke himself to his own completion. He cums in long ribbons across your stomach, panting himself as he finishes and pressing a quick kiss to your thigh again.

   He looks at the cum for a moment, before swiping some of it up with two of his fingers, and pressing it to your lips. You take his fingers into your mouth and suck them clean, Jimin muttering a curse as he watches you.

   "Please," you said as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. "Not all of it."

   Jimin laughed at this, a bright melody filling the room. "Okay," he said. "But only because you asked so nicely."

    The next time you see Jimin it's normal. The two of you go your separate ways the next day after cuddling each other to sleep, and when you finally see him at lunch two days later, he's the same way he always was. You don't expect it.

    He doesn't tell anyone either, which perhaps is what surprises you the most. Jimin was absolutely the type to kiss and tell. When Taehyung asked what had gotten into you as you laughed easily with them at that lunch, you nearly choked on your coffee, already anticipating Jimin to say his cock. But he doesn't.

    "It's nice to see you happy again," he said instead. "Whatever it is, I'm glad it helped."

    "Me too," Taehyung agreed with a nod as he returned his attention to his sandwich.

     You feel lighter. You smile more. It's all you could really ask for. You're not cured; the only magic was that of friendship.

    You want to choke just thinking that.

    You can already hear Jimin offering you his vines in the back of your mind.

© gimmeyoon — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, or translation onto other sites even with proper credit given is not permitted.

[ramblesanddragons]

When Someone Has Your Back

(I thought I posted this last night but apparently not.)

Here’s my entry for @forduary based on Week 2: Trust/Paranoia.

Summary: Life on the sea has done wonders for Stan and Ford Pines but a stop in New Orleans brings an unwanted, surprising, and dangerous guest.

Word Count: 4417

Warnings: There is fighting in this (this was good practice for me since I've never written a fight scene before) but no mentions of blood. I did not want this to be considered graphic. 

Ao3 Link for those who prefer!

“Ford for Pete’s sake I can handle myself. You want to do your nerd thing and I want to go hang out at a bar. It’s okay,” Stan said slightly exasperated.

Close to a year at sea had done wonders for the old Pines twins. Stan hadn’t felt so at peace for a long time. Sure, that fact that some of his rougher memories had been AWOL for most of the year helped but being with Ford at sea, doing what they always dreamed of doing? Well it was a dream. Even dreams have rough patches though.

Ever since Stan had been erased to defeat some sort of dream demon his brother had been perhaps a little too protective of him. It was an improvement from the sad sap that Ford had become after the erasing. That had really pissed Stan off as more memories of who his brother was came back. He wanted to sail with his brother not this sad, sullen nerd that was holding his tongue so much that Stan was sure it had bled a few times. Stan put his foot down before they sailed out.  

“Ford if you don’t stop being so down and start being yourself, I’m not going out with you. I’ll probably throw you overboard within a week.”

That had worked more or less. For the first time in years they talked their problems out. It was a good start and within a day Ford had been back to bantering with Stan like they had never been apart. Of course, that hadn’t stopped the other issue Stan was having. Ford had become incredibly protective of him. Sure, that had been a thing in a way when they were young. Stan handled the bullies and Ford covered for him with the one he couldn’t deal with, their dad. He would stick up for Stan and help him when homework got too hard. Once he had even stayed up all night to talk Stan through his whining when Carla McCorkle had broken up with him.

Now it was different. More...intense. Stan knew it was a strange mix of Ford’s caring for him, wanting to make up for his so-called sacrifice, and his paranoia. Boy howdy was Ford paranoid. Not that Stan blamed him. Whenever the subject of his time traveling the multiverse was brought up his brother would only speak of the good but there had been bad as well. Stan hadn’t told Ford but the memory of the quick change in the fearimaid had come back a few months ago. Stan remembered the scars that told a horrific story across his brother’s body.  

So, Ford had every right to be paranoid and Stan would let him have that. He could understand this at least. He let his brother be the odd boy guard he really didn’t need and went along with whatever protective measure his brother saw fit to take. He would deal with his brother being uptight in crowed places and seeing danger everywhere. He was there with his favorite tea when the nightmares would wake him in a fit of crying. Just like Ford was there for him when nightmares wrecked his own sleep.  

But Stan was also a grown 58-year-old man and had most of his memories back and he just wanted to go get a damn drink.  

“The tour is fascinating though. I thought it would be a good place to start for ghost hunting,” Ford reply looking like a slightly hurt puppy.

“We can go ghost hunting later. I promise but it’s hot as hell here and I don’t feel like going.”

“Then I’ll go get a drink with you.”

“Ford. I know you feel like you need to like watch over me or somethin’ but I promise you, I will be okay. Okay? Look if we don’t do some things apart, you’re gonna get sick of me.”

“Stan, I have told you over and over again I will never, ever, get sick of you.” Ford said standing to grip Stan on the shoulders.

“Yes, and I believe that now...mostly,” Stan ignored the frustrated look in his brother’s eyes, “But everyone needs space now and again. I’ve been to New Orleans before I know where I’m going. While we’re here I can show you all the good places to eat. Look how about I go get a drink, you go look at tombstones or whatever and we’ll meet back here to find a place to eat. We got these cell phones for a reason you know.”

The kids had insisted that they get phones if they were going travel like they were. McGucket had even decked them out so they would work wherever. Ford and Stan, with lots of help from the kids, had even figured out texting.  His twin sighed and let go of his shoulders.

“Very well. But keep that ringer of yours on okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

So, they parted ways. Ford seemed hesitant to keep walking down his street but eventually kept walking. Stan found the place he was looking for and took a seat. Jazz wasn’t his favorite thing in the world but nothing beat a good live band and a fruity drink that he wouldn’t be caught dead drinking any other time. The afternoon passed in piece and as the sun started to get lower in the sky Stan made his way back to the boat. It was a good afternoon and Stan had even scored a date for tomorrow, which meant some working around his brother but the boat had separate rooms for them for a reason. All and all a good time. He walked lazily back to where the boat was docked when the sound of a dinosaur roar made him jump. Mabel thought it was a good text tone for his brother and, while she wasn’t wrong, it still made him jump from time to time.  

I need to get her to tell me how to change it.  

Stanley. I will be back at the boat in 10 minutes time.

Ok Ford. ‘Bout to walk on.  

…

Please remember to turn off the alarm!

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford had installed some sort of proximity alarm and he had to turn it on and off as he came and went but it eased his brother’s mind so whatever.  

Stan had only managed to take a single step on the deck of the ship when a cold feeling went up his spine. Someone was watching him. Before he could react, there was the thundering footsteps behind him and the feeling of something blunt on the back of his head. He fell onto his knees and yelled out in pain. Looking through blurred vision he turned to face his attacker. Stan almost screamed again. A dark green creature was glowering down at him. It vaguely reminded him of a snake if a snake had grown arms and legs and had been on a steady steroid regiment. This had to be an alien of some sort, right? Despite what Ford thought Stan did pay attention to his nerdy rants. This didn’t match any of those cryptids he was looking for around here unless a snake man was an option, he wasn’t aware of. Well it was Louisiana.  

“Stanford Pines,” it hissed, “it had been too long.”

An alien that’s looking for my brother. Wonderful.  

He will be fine. Everything will be fine.  

What if he had a memory lapse?  

He hasn’t had one in 6 months. If he does, he keeps his facilities on him enough to ask for help. Your number is his emergency contact.  

What if he gets hurt?  

He’s right he’s an old man who can care for himself!  

This internal argument had been on repeat in Ford’s head for about two blocks now. He forced his feet forward anyway. He did it for Stan’s sake. He needed space and Ford needed space even if he would never voice that to his twin. Stan was right, not about Ford getting sick of him no. Ford was determined to use his last 30 years or so to make up for lost time. Traveling with his brother brought about a pure joy that he didn’t think was possible for him to feel again and he would never want it to end. But they were still very different people and being stuck on a small boat for months, even with separate rooms, had frayed a few nerves. Yes, this was healthy and needed.

But Ford’s damn brain would not shut up.  

By the time Ford reached the tour Stan had already been mentally kidnapped by swamp creatures 3 times. Maybe just texting his brother would help, or would that annoy Stan too much? Ford had been trying very hard to be considerate of Stan’s feeling since he had spent so much time frankly not doing just that. Part of his worry was that Stan would maybe get tired of him and want to stop, go back to Gravity Falls with the treasures they found and get Ford to leave him alone. The old scientist knew he was hard to deal with at times but Stan seemed to take most of it stride. What was worrying was his twin brother seemed to really understand what he was going through. Why would Stan know about the need to watch his back almost constantly? Why did he insist on having his own pistol under his bed and brass knuckles on him at all times? Both of them hadn’t been very forthcoming with bits and pieces of their past but at least Stan had an excuse up until now. He claimed he had most of his memories back so he was just choosing not to share at this point.

“Sir?” Ford jumped and his hand flew to his concealed weapon before he focused on the young man that looked wide eyed and concerned.  

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you it’s just the tour is about to start are you joining us?” In his thoughts Ford had paused to think and the tour group had started moving without him.

“Ah sorry just didn’t see you there. Yes, I’m coming.” Ford said awkwardly shoving his hands behind his back. The young man gave him a thumbs up and started the tour with an explanation of the above ground graves they were walking by. The guys’ voice reminded him of Fiddleford a bit but there was a difference in the drawl, it lacked that mountain twang. He found himself thinking that he should give his old friend a call tonight after dinner. Ford followed at the back, away from the crowd. It was an ideal position; he could watch the people in the front and look out for things behind him. The crowd was bothering him no matter how hard he tried to shake it.  

That was another reason he had wanted his brother along for this. Ford had gotten used to Stan’s presence in his life. Knowing he wasn’t alone all the time anymore had been a Godsend for his mental health if he was being honest. Paranoia is easier to deal with when you know someone has your back. Standford Pines could trust his twin brother and it made a world of difference.  

The tour was informative and it led to a good place to start for some ghost hunting. The watch Ford had modified had picked up on several ectoplasmic disturbances and he was pleased with the adventure he had planned out with Stan. Ford finally allowed himself to text his brother. He had managed to only text him two times before now in an attempt to show some restraint with his worries. Hopefully Stan would turn off the alarm as it made a very annoying buzzing noise come from his watch. The alarm annoyed Stan, especially when he had a guy or girl over and he had to fiddle with it before getting to whatever business they were doing for the night, but he never told Ford to get rid of it.  

There was a sigh as the alarm went off and Ford put it to snooze. A minute later it went off again and it sent a worried ringing up the old man’s arm. Ford texted Stan.

Please turn off the alarm.

Another minute passed. The alarm buzzed some more.

Stan?

A knot began to form in Ford’s stomach. He gave up texting and called.

“Hey uh this is Stan Pines. Leave some info unless you’re the IRS.” Straight to voicemail. Stan had promised to answer it and keep it on him. Something was wrong. Ford immediately began to run the remaining distance between himself and the boat. 5 minutes of straight running was making his lungs burn but he didn’t care, he had to find his brother. The docks were empty as he finally caught sight of the Stan of War.  

Not good no one around to see if he got dragged off dammit Stanley you had better be okay!  

The running stopped as his trained eye spotted something shine on the deck. It was Stan’s phone. He had made it to the deck of the ship at least.  

Focus. Look for clues and calm down. You’re no good like this. What’s your big brain good for if you can’t find and follow clues? Use your logic. Okay he made it to deck that’s for certain maybe...is that...my voice?  

Ford’s head snapped to the cabin. Muffled voices were coming from behind the door. With more stealth than an owl hunting in the moonlight Ford made his way to the door. Inside it was indeed his voice coming through the wall as well as another that sounded so familiar, his mind raced to place it. It had to be one of the bounty hunters that had been after him in the multiverse he knew that but which one? The unknown hunter and his brother were in the middle of a conversation.

Good Stan keep it talking I need to think of a plan!  

“And what about those extra digits?” The unknown voice questioned.

“Had them cut off. They were a very identifiable mark. You’re not the only person after me after all. Perhaps it would be best to not to deal with me so hastily. Don’t want to have any other bounty hunters jealous of you, do you?” Stan said imitating Ford’s voice.

“Your time here has made you forget. The multiverse fears me. No one would dare challenge me. Prepare yourself, your head is now mine.”

“Very well. If last wishes are something you care about just leave this dimension when you are done.” Stan again said in his impression of Ford.

The impression was flawless, just like it had been in the fearimaid. Ford finally put two and two together. A cold feeling enveloped his body as thoughts of a memory gun in his hand and his brother at his mercy swam to the top of his consciousness. This was worse.  

Oh, sweet Moses.  

He’s pretending to be me again.  

He’s about the take the fall for me again.  

Stan’s about to get his head chopped off by a blood thirsty inter-dimensional bounty hunter to protect me.  

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO!  

In a rare moment all logic left the mind of Stanford Pines.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!” Ford screamed bursting through the cabin door and tackling the killer into the other side of the cabin, causing it to drop the razor-sharp blade it was holding. Ford began to punch it in the face with all of his might.  

“Oh, hey Ford there you are.” Stan quipped in his normal voice. Ford could barely hear him over the roaring of blood in his ears.  

The hunter was thrown off by the sudden appearance of another Stanford Pines and Ford wasn’t going to waste the opening. He tugged at the hitman’s blaster, wresting it free from its holster. The hunter gave him a powerful kick to the chest that sent Ford halfway across the cabin.

“Hey Ford I know you’re a little busy but if you get something sharp my way, I can cut myself out!” Stan shouted.  

“Shut UP! I don’t know what sort of magic this is but I’ll kill you both for good measure!” The creature hissed and lunged for the gun. Ford’s chest was aching but he didn’t pay it any attention as he pulled his own gun.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Ford roared and fired. The shot hit square in the chest but the monster’s hide was too thick. With a cold jolt in his being Ford now fully recognized the bounty hunter. They had clashed more than a few times over the years and every time Ford barely managed to escape with his life. The last time had been 6 years ago. That encounter ended with Ford jumping into a rushing river as a last stitch effort of escape.  Its species was tough and blaster fire barely did a thing to them. The scientist in him often wondered if more traditional firearms would work better but the pistol was under Stan’s cot, there was no way to get to it. Ford kept firing desperately.

A part of Ford was sure he wasn’t going to survive this encounter with the hunter and it didn’t matter to him if he did in the long run, as long as he brought the monster down with him. He would not let him hurt his brother. If he died and the hunter was still alive Stanley would have to face it alone. So, Ford couldn’t die just yet and if he did, he’d just have to get back up again until Stanley was safe. The hunter picked up its own blaster and aimed for Ford’s head when Stan crashed into the creature chair and all. The blaster went sliding again across the cabin.

“Hey dumb-ass you kind of suck at this if you can’t tell two targets apart!” Stan heckled the thing from his now prone position. The creature hissed again and lunged at Stan’s neck but Ford was faster. He took the thing by its neck and slammed it into the floor and struggled to put his own gun to the creature's head.

“Let’s see if you can shrug off point blank ARGGGGG!” Sharp claws ripped into Ford’s shoulder and peeled him off. The hunter sprung to its feet and gave Ford a kick, and then another. Somewhere in the chaos Ford’s gun flew from his hands and landed under a desk. There was a crack of something in his chest and face but Ford didn’t care. On the third kick he grabbed the boot of the killer and tossed it off balance enough to give Ford time to stand.

Get it away from Stan! Get it away! Repeated in his head.

Taking out his knife Ford slashed at it wildly. Each step towards it brought claws closer to his face but he didn’t care. Seeing an opening Ford got in close and with all of his might he shoved the hunter through the door of the cabin earning him a clawing to the chest in the process.  

Ford had exactly one idea but he needed to reach the stern of the ship. He managed to make it half way there when the killer caught up to him, using its claws to try and bring Ford down again. He stumbled but stayed uptight turning to face his attacker. It had managed to pull another blade and swung, missing Ford by a hair. He took the chance to kick it back away from him but it had less of an impact that he hoped. Sharp black claws ripped into his sweater and it held the blade at Ford’s throat.

“30 years of chasing you and this is how it ends? How pathetic!” It rose its arm to swing when another pair of arms appeared underneath the creature’s elbows. Stan had gotten free and with all his might pulled it away from Ford. Stan threw it into the wall of the cabin and started to go at it with his knuckles covered in brass.

“30 years huh? Well you’re never fucking with my brother EVER AGAIN!” Stan thundered.

Ford saw his chance. Pushing back the sickness in his stomach at the thought of pointing another gun at Stan he reached the harpoon at the stern. “STAN MOVE!”  

His brother didn’t even need to look back to tell what he was doing, with a leap the way was clear and Ford fired, hitting his mark. There was a loud crack as the harpoon broke the cabin wall. Then silence.  

Ford collapsed onto the deck of the boat.

“S-Stanley,” he croaked, “are you okay?”

Stanley stood and ran over to him wincing at the sight of the damage. To Ford’s relief his brother only seemed to have a minor injury or two.

“AM I OKAY!? Ford, we need to get you to a hospital!” Stanley began to try and lift Ford who responded with a hiss.

“No, no we can’t leave that here like that. What if someone comes by.”  

“Ford it’s 5:30 on a Friday night no one’s gonna see this.”  

Ford began to try and stand on his own. “Really Stan I’ve had worse. I’ll sail us out to open water, deal with him, and then maybe rest.” Try and he might his ribs wouldn’t let him stand.  

“FORD SIT THE FUCK DOWN!!!” Stanley screamed. Ford finally obeyed and gave his brother an owlish look in surprise.

“You’re worried that much about people finding it? Fine I’ll sail us out a bit, deal with it then I’m getting your ass to a hospital.” Stan stood and within a moment or two had the boat pulling out of the dock. Ford was quiet for a moment, observing his brother and making sure no underlying injuries were causing problems. Five full minutes of silence passed before Stan spoke again.

“He was looking for you. I guess I don’t blame ya for being so paranoid,” he muttered.

“Yes. Stan...Stan I’m so sorry.” With the adrenaline wearing off all Ford could feel was the pain and the fear. Fear that his brother almost died again.

“I-I should have warned you this could happen...I know I haven’t been very forthcoming about my time away but I’ll tell you now and, and...” Tears were building in Ford’s eyes. Stan turned from the wheel for a moment to look at him.

“Ford you don’t have to tell me anything okay? And stop apologizing.”

“YOU ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF ME!” Ford’s voice cracked with the stress. Stan flipped on the auto pilot Ford had built and sat next to his now sobbing brother.  

“Ford...”

“Stan, I heard you. You were pretending to be me again. Why? You were going to let him kill you t-to protect me? Why?”

Stan opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare say better you than me!”

Stan coughed to perhaps give himself a moment to course correct and spoke. “Meh I was okay...”

“Okay? How...how are you so calm with this...how did you know t-that?” Ford was sure he had taken too hard of a hit there was no way Stan was okay with this.

“If ya let me finish Ford. I was saying I knew I was going to be okay because I know you’ve got my back.”

Stan, to Ford’s utter shock, was smiling.  

“You know the more I remember about my past the happier I am to be here. I mean that in all senses of that statement too. Like to be alive. People have tried to kill me before too and I was all alone then. Just like you were. And it’s awful.” Ford wanted to hug his brother and simultaneously find whoever had dared to go after him. That’s why he understood so well.  

“But I think I’ve finally managed to hang on to the idea that you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours. Hell, even if you woke up hating me again tomorrow, I’d still have your back.”

“ I never hated you and I never will,” Ford whispered quietly.  

“Meh I think it might have been touch and go there a minute.”

“...I will always be there for you Stan and not because of what you did either, I know you think that’s the only reason I’m here sometimes no matter how hard you hide it. I will always be there for you because you are my brother.”

“Thanks. You know I should probably tell you the people who might have me on their kill list...I just need to remember their names first.” Stan rubbed his sore head.

“Don’t freak out things just get a little jumbled after crazy stuff like that.” He pointed to the hunter.

“I’m not,” he was, “but just so you know if anyone so much as touches you wrong, I’m going to kill them.”

“Yeah I got that point. Guess this isn’t going to exactly ease those nerves of yours huh?”

“I’m sorry I’m so...”

“Ford if you apologize one more damn time, I’m gonna...I don’t know...toss one of your nerd books overboard with that guy.”

Ford closed his mouth.  

“I can handle you dealing with whatever your time is space sideburns land did to you in your own way. I just hope I can get you to relax and enjoy life a little more ya know?”

“I am. With you around watching my back I have been able to relax a bit. Thank you, Stanley, for understanding.”  

20 minutes was all Stan was willing to spend on the job. Stan patched Ford up as much as he could in the meantime. He also started to do the math on the repairs then decided to say fuck it to that for the night. Before disposing of whatever this guy was, Stan pocketed some of his fancier looking stuff to Ford’s amusement.

“What Fiddlenerd might like to look this over.” Was Stan’s only argument.

Once docked he called an ambulance (“This crazy huge dog came out of nowhere and attacked us!”) and they were on the way.

“Once you’re healed up Ford, I’m going to show you the time of your life and some of the best damn food in the world.”

Ford smiled, “Looking forward to it.”

[awed-frog]

hiya *waves* ... a couple days ago you had a post about death--about living well? The oldest living generation in my family have started dying. (It feels so odd to say it like that. but.) It feels like my family is stuck in endless loops of grief. Do you have any advice for making the sadness a little easier to bear? Thank you very much for your time.

I’m sorry you’re going through that. I know exactly what it’s like, because my family is 90% old or oldish people, and it’s so damn hard, isn’t it? Thank you for trusting me to give you advice on this - here is my best attempt at an answer on this complicated topic.

Some say we now find it harder to bear death because we’re not used to it anymore. Very few of us kill our own food, child mortality is exceedingly rare (in luckier countries, that is) and old age is generally disguised, disregarded and hidden away as much as possible. Even funerals, which used to be held in the family home, have become a business (I think around the late nineteenth century, which makes it a very recent development): nowadays, dead people are ferreted away, washed by professionals, dolled up, even pumped full of questionable chemicals so they’ll look ‘healthy’, ‘serene’, and ‘at peace’. I know people who prevent children from visiting older relatives and seeing them after their death, and even going to the funeral, because ‘it’s too much for them’.

(I disagree, by the way. I think it’s good to show children everyone’s different and getting old is a thing, and it’s better to give them a chance to say goodbye, to understand a loved one is truly gone, so they can process it and ask questions about it. Some of my younger students were left traumatized by hidden deaths in the family, and it was heartwrenching to watch.)

I think there’s some truth in all that; but on the other hand, I also see this idea of ‘people getting used to death because shorter life span’ as a bit of a myth. If you read letters from Antiquity, or go through tombstone inscriptions, you find a lot of people ravaged by grief. The fact it was common to lose children and spouses didn’t make it particularly easier to bear.

I don’t know that I can answer your question with anything worth hearing or sharing, because I haven’t found a good way to deal with grief myself. There are days I can be okay with it, and I’m happy and grateful for the time I had with my loved ones, and can imagine they’ll never be truly gone (I’m not sure that I believe in Paradise, but I like the idea that the matter making up our bodies simply goes on to become something else: the old wisdom vita mutatur, non tollitur readapted for the age of science, if you will), and then sometimes it all seems pointless, and pointlessly sad.

What I learned, however, is most of our sufferings come from one thing: we find it very hard to accept change. 

Poet  and historian Hillel Schwartz once said the biggest challenge when facing old age, a life-threatening illness or a sudden disability is not the practical side of it (for instance, that you can’t walk anymore), but the certainty that without this specific thing you can no longer do, you’re no longer yourself. He encourages people to find their sense of self in more profound things, because most of us build it by relying on stuff that’s not permanent and can disappear at any moment (our family, our job, our favourite sport or hobby). I heard him speak two years ago, but I still think about that regularly, because it’s hard, isn’t it, to know who you are without these external supports we take for granted in our daily life (walking, running, a salary, a mother and father, your best friend)? 

And I think the same is true for grief. When you grieve for someone, your grieve for two lives lost: your loved one’s, and your own. You grieve because the person you were with them no longer exist. You’ll never again be someone’s grandchild. That’s gone forever. That side of your personality you only shared with this person, the inside jokes, the quiet moments of affections, the secrets you kept for them or they kept for you - that’s finished. A piece of your sould that’s just missing. And my best guess here is that, like Hillel Scwhartz said, you need to accept you can function as yourself without that relationship in your life - which takes time, of course, and it’s easier said than done.

We know Japanese noblemen cultivated this quest of your deepest, most intimate and essential self by doing three things, which I think we can all practice to try and overcome our saddest moments.

First of all, there are the famous reflections on the worst case scenario. Nobody wants to think about their own death, or your loved one’s death, or other traumatic events like a severe illness, losing your job or your home, but there’s a theory that by staving off those thoughts, what happens is that you’ll be even more afraid of them (because ignorance breeds fear) and completely unprepared when the thing actually comes. That’s why samurais thought about their own deaths a lot, and research shows that being prepared - for anything, and especially for the worst - is a very good way to reduce anxiety and unhappiness. It’s particularly good to gently encourage ageing relatives to make plans for their future lives on living arrangements, medical care and so on.

Meditation is another good way to force the mind to be still and be more present and more aware of why you think and feel the way you do, and it’s also been proven to have health benefits. Plus, as a Zen abbot told me, when you sit in meditation for a long time, you ultimately start to realize all things are equal - that you’re not ‘wasting time’ by doing that, because objective reality is an illusion, and things only assume meaning depending on your attachment to them. 

Finally, something I like about Japanese and other Eastern cultures is that they are quite happy to celebrate impermanence. In Japan, you get an entire nation obsessing over cherry blossoms - a phenomenon that only lasts a few days; in the Himalayas, monks spend a ridiculous amount of time creating intricate sand mandalas, which will then be destroyed. In the West, we take a completely opposite view, and that’s one reason why we’re such hoarders and we give such special meaning to old movie ticket stubs, clothes we no longer wear, and hideous childhood crafts everybody’s secretly ashamed of.

(Also feelings of hurt and resentment which can dog us for years, even after the person we’re angry with is long dead.)

All of those techniques will hopefully lead to a quieter, calmer mind, which still experiences feelings but is not dominated by them. A concept we tend to associate with Buddhism, but that’s actually hailed as as the recipe to happiness in many cultures (through independent philosophical thinking or cross-contamination? that, I don’t know).

When you manage to overcome your own mind, you overcome myriad concerns, rise above all things, and are free. When you are overcome by your own mind, you are burdened by myriad concerns, subordinate to things, unable to rise above. Mind your mind; guard it resolutely. Since it is the mind that confuses the mind, don’t let your mind give in to your mind. (Suzuki Shosan, 1579-1655) 

I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I am free. (Nikos Kazantzakis, 1923)

The bitter truth about being mortal and self-aware is that saying goodbye to an old, beloved relative is not only part of life: it’s the best option for everyone involved. Living to eighty or ninety, having the opportunity, the time and the emotional skill to forge deep bonds of affection with those around you - that’s something we can all aspire to. But in order to fully understand and accept that, we need to reverse our traditional way of thinking.

Becoming more mindful and more tolerant of impermanence is a long journey, but I honestly believe it leads to a better life. I think the best thing you can do now, and what I’m trying to do myself, is to be there for your older relatives and deepen that connection, while also focusing on the life they will not see: you as an adult, as a parent perhaps, as an older person. Nurture your mind and soul, be curious, be passionate, be patient. Enjoy the present without fretting about the future or regretting the past. Breathe.

(Oh - and here is my favourite poem about grief - I find it helps.)

[browsingcopy]

Altogether Somewhere: On Growing Roots Amidst Shifting Sands and Moving Landscapes

A response to Charles Lim’s SEA STATE

I come from Singapore, a country plagued with “a history of amnesia,” in the words of poet Alfian Sa’at. One of our national day songs written by Dick Lee titled “Home” contains the line: “I will always recall the city, know every street and shore.” It is odd to sing this knowing that “every street and shore” is constantly shifting—the sounds of construction are pervasive, highways are ever-widening and the sea is constantly being reclaimed.

An oft-told narrative is one of Singapore’s growth from a third-world fishing village to a first-world smart nation within the span of 50 years. A lesser-known story is one of how our total land area has grown from 578 square kilometres in 1819 to 719 square kilometres today. The fact that 25% of our country’s land mass is reclaimed may have astounded German, French and Italian visitors to Charles Lim’s SEA STATE pavilion at the Venice Biennale. But they may be less of a surprise to our neighbours in Cambodia, Indonesia and Vietnam, whose sands we draw upon in dredges. Where there were fishing villages on stilts on the sea, now stand ports, airports, luxury hotels and casinos, built with sand imported both legally and illegally through smuggling and deals with corrupt officials. Riverbanks collapse, estuaries erode, mangrove wildlife and coastal livelihoods are lost. Yet, the drawing and redrawing of our coastline and skyline continually defer their political and ethical implications on both regional and national levels.

I only became more conscious of these realities when I encountered and engaged with the various phases of SEA STATE through sitting with the work, listening to its lulling siren-like voice, digesting the catalogue and attempting to grasp the rich curatorial and artistic research underpinning the decade-long project over the course of breakfast and dinner conversations with Charles and curator Shabbir Hussein Mustafa. Growing up in Singapore, I was always surrounded by rapid modernisation, the loss of significant cultural and heritage sites, and the strange resurrection of demolished buildings like the National Theatre and old National Library in the form of giant floats paraded at the annual Chingay parade, prolonging a nostalgia that no longer exists in present memory. I find it jarring to imagine a similar fate for architectural landmarks such as Golden Mile Complex and Tower—spaces that are significant and familiar to me, where I’ve built connections and friendships over Thai food and open-air rooftops.

Architect Tan Cheng Siong behind the iconic horseshoe-shaped Pearl Bank apartments recalled what it was like during the early days of Singapore’s post-independence urbanisation: “It was an interesting challenge for young people like us. I can remember thinking ‘very good, we are a free people now.’ But at the start, we were so badly informed and had nothing to hang on to. The neighbours, the community, the streets and the shops all these things were lost in some of the early apartments, but young people like me were rushing to fulfil our ambitions. Our parents were the ones that felt lonely every now and then.” The curved corridors of Pearl Bank were designed as an antidote to this growing loneliness and social dislocation, with kitchens facing inwards to encourage people to invite neighbours in for chicken curry. The physical structures in Singapore barely stay long enough. Pearl Bank is slated to be demolished in 2019. Memories attached to old buildings often exist only as projections of the mind or are glimpsed as superimpositions on current, newer replacements. In Between Stations, writer Boey Kim Cheng laments the loss of old spaces in Singapore’s Central Business District: “But in my mind, both the Arcade and Change Alley form a continuum of light and shade, an interim one that is neither outside nor inside, blurring interior and exterior, time and space, past and present.”

In one edition of OH! Open House, I was standing amongst a group in the garden of somebody’s house in Potong Pasir when ceramic artist Michelle Lim reflected as she shaped mud: “Nowhere is sacred, nowhere is permanent. Nowhere where you can build your stories over and over again.” OH! tells alternative stories of Singapore through art by working with artists to create site-specific works in unconventional locations such as strangers’ homes and under-utilised public spaces. I lived in Potong Pasir when it was under the stronghold of the opposition party. Residents of ground-floor HDB flats took great care in nurturing small gardens—trellises, patios, benches and swings spilled over onto public land. In the years that followed the change in hands during the 2011 General Elections, Potong Pasir’s landscape was no longer stuck in the 1980s and quickly evolved. Sidewalks were built, barricades erected, covered walkways constructed, bridges repainted, roads tarred, street lamps installed and lifts upgraded. For the first time, an NTUC FairPrice supermarket sprouted and POSB bank opened a branch. In describing her former hometown, Lim commented, “It’s changed so much that I wouldn’t even know if I’ve arrived.”

My father grew up in this neighbourhood and often went jogging through the quiet, hilly terrain of tombstones in Bidadari. He knew the dimly-lit streets well enough to walk home with his eyes closed. When my great grandmother passed away at the age of 93, we moved into her house. Like my father, I grew to develop my own memories of this neighbourhood. I learnt that several notable persons from Christian, Muslim, Hindu and Sinhalese communities were interred at Bidadari cemetery. The graves have since been exhumed, slopes flattened, trees uprooted, making way for Housing Development Board (HDB) flats in what is touted as “the new Bishan,” a bustling district which also occupies a plot of land built on a former cemetery. Bidadari, or “angel of paradise” in Malay, is derived from the Sanskrit word “widyadari,” an angelic being in Hindu mythology. It used to house kampong villages, the Japanese-style garden and lake Alkaff Gardens, and the istana or palace of Zubaidah binti Abdullah (née Cecilia Catharina Lange), the Danish second wife of Sultan Abu Bakar of Johor. Later in the OH! tour, as we were traversing through the former Bidadari cemetery at sunset, I smiled to myself when our guide warned us: “Be careful there are a lot of roots.”

How do we begin to unpeel the layers of our histories and uncover the rhizomic roots? Not too long ago Singapore separated from Malaysia, but between the tears and pregnant pauses, it remains to this day an issue that is still not fully talked about. To quote Josephine Chia, author of Kampong Spirit Gotong Royang: Life in Potong Pasir from 1955 to 1965, “The separation from Malaya was traumatic and no one really talks about this. But we had uncles and aunties and cousins who lived across the highway... I’m Peranakan so I had relatives in Penang and Melaka. And suddenly, you couldn’t be friends anymore.” This history is further complicated by the fact that most immigrants are divorced from Java, Sarawak, Yemen, Fujian, Guangdong, Hainan, Tamil Nadu, Sri Lanka, Punjab and other places where their ancestors came from.

Separations and traumas on a national scale often have large repercussions on the individual. In talking to a friend from Bayreuth, he described how even today, his parents only go on family holidays in West Germany and avoid the East at all costs. Even though it has been 30 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, the invisible wall lingers on in their minds. Differences in powers, ideologies, religions and races have resulted in crimes against humanity and acts of violence inflicted upon oppressed communities. Although Germany has recognised its role in the Holocaust, it is still coming to terms with the genocide in Namibia. Turkey continually refuses to recognise the Armenian genocide. Malaysia has only just begun a public inquiry into the mass graves of Rohingyas. While underlying traumas exist, they are often buried deep within our national consciousnesses. Yet, we feel their reverberations every day. We are at once connected yet isolated from our past, present and each other.

We all have an innate need for security and belonging. French philosopher Simone Weil once wrote that “to be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognised need of the human soul.” The idea of home may be associated with a permanent residence. However, the reality is landscapes, cultures, lifestyles, populations, borders and national identities sometimes change faster than we can acclimatise. Political systems can disappear overnight. The only method to counteract against collective feelings of uprooting is our individual attempts at rooting, even if they are temporal. I recall our first 12 days in Venice, working almost non-stop from the moment we wake to the moment we sleep. In my journal, I wrote “SEA STATE submerges us in this endless underwater continuum that lingers even as we lie flat in bed. We call it the vaporetto effect, the feeling that you're bobbing on a platform floating on the sea, waiting for a boat to come.” For awhile, that felt like home, truly.