#the major point it all hinges on is that Mom was bad too and not a fellow victim of dad

[atonalginger]

TIL you think the family drama you've set up for your big tough, dangerous character is far enough removed from your own lived experiences to trigger any memories or feelings and then you get to writing and...SURPRISE SAME HAT!

[pocketgalaxies]

i feel like we're gonna need a whole long individual post from you where you sum up your thoughts and feelings of c3ep51...it's a doozy and i'm interested to hear what you have to say!!😵‍💫

okay. okayyy. i just finished the ep so i haven't had a lot of time to think about it yet but. initial reaction is that i'm feeling a little hm. bad! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

obviously i haven't been on tungle so idk if a lot of other ppl feel this way or if i'm in the minority but. a lot of the latter parts felt bad. like in my soul, i mean. i was simply not having as good of a time as i wanted to be having.

cue complaining! apologies in advance:

it was like. liliana being obstinate, even with appreciably high rolls from imogen. ludinus giving this stupid-ass speech that went on for ages about how his life is sooo so so so hard. sky ship was a complete and utter bust. beau and caleb were a complete and utter bust. keyleth was obviously a complete and utter bust and then some. fcg was just stuck in a goddamn automaton for half the thing. destroying power cores maybe caused the key to malfunction, we'll find out, but they certainly didn't feel particularly influential in the final climax. nobody in the party even had an opportunity to do anything during initiative with the backpack having an AC of fucking 25 (when bh is only level 8!!!). laudna and ashton weren't even there, which obviously couldn't have been predicted or controlled, but it didn't feel good

i can appreciate and understand the idea of having it be very clear that this effort was actually futile from the beginning, because ludinus is unbelievably powerful and otohan beat their asses already and this was a plan centuries in the making and the manpower was there and the group is low-level etc etc. maybe this was always meant to happen, maybe the rest of the campaign as matt planned hinges on the majority of ludinus' plan succeeding, which is FINE. but i don't think i was alone in thinking that there was a non-negligible amount of hope going into this ep that something amazing might happen, esp with beau caleb and keyleth all explicitly involved. and it was all, very very unceremoniously, crushed piece by piece and all ludinus had to do was raise a fuckin pinky. you know what i mean? it just felt too easy for him. after watching bells hells painstakingly plan and desperately recruit help for two straight eps, i just sat here and watched ludinus shit and spit on all of that within seconds? felt bad. i think if there was more of an encounter, more of a fighting chance, then it wouldn't have made me as a viewer feel stupid for thinking something might actually fuckin work

i think it could be argued that the otohan fight in bassuras was similar in its feeling of futility, but like. it wasn't??? bc they were fighting her, they were doing damage, they were using up her spells and her legendary actions/resistances, and there was decision-making involved esp on laura's part. there was good rp and there was tension and risky choices, and the players were driving the ship. here it was like every single thing they threw at it didn't even make it in the door. the whole thing was over in one round

speaking of one round, i really actually quite unironically hated the 5 full minutes during which matt rolled 200 damage or whatever against keyleth. obviously because i love her, but also because it was the quintessential moment in the ep of making me sit here and go "what is the fucking point." one of the most powerful people on the entire planet, down before she can even think to do anything about it. and then vax shows up in this triumphant moment of divine victory just to get totally fucked. BY IMOGEN'S MOM, NO LESS. and NEITHER of them got a turn in initiative. bc ludinus is sooo smart and sooo powerful and sooo wise and sooo evil. vom

so anyway. i don't think i'm nearly as mad as this post makes me sound, but i am definitely having trouble finding parts about the latter half of this ep that i particularly enjoyed, at least in hindsight. like in the moment vax's appearance was Amazing. Legendary. but the fact that all it did was play into ludinus' hand made it feel lowkey like shit. so idk!

sorry this post turned into me saying mean things. i was trying to keep an open mind during my liveblog but i was quite frustrated at certain points lmao idk i'll keep thinking on it and you'll prob see posts from me if i change my mind about things

[motownfiction]

domain

She may have a home of her own these days, but Lucy’s true domain is her office in the English Department.

Sure, she has to share it with another master’s student. Who cares? She has a desk of her own, a side of the room filled with her books and pictures, and best of all, the feeling of being a twenty-four-year-old professional. In a few months, when she graduates and moves on for her Ph.D., she’ll get a new office. That will be good. But she doesn’t want to think about that. This is her very first academic domain, and that means something, even more than her first home.

It’s the third week of the new semester, and she’s having one-on-one meetings with her first-year composition. This student is the last for the day. He’s also the one Lucy’s been looking forward to the least.

There’s nothing wrong with this guy. He writes well, he’s not disrespectful, and he participates in class discussion. It’s just that he’s so … eager.

He knocks on the door hinge, and Lucy takes a sharp breath in.

“Hi, Luke,” she says. “Come on in.”

Luke Egan looks like he should be in a Campbell’s Soup commercial. He has short hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes, which is what Lucy thinks she would have looked like if she was a man. He takes a seat in the student chair and smiles a little too widely. Lucy suppresses the urge to cringe in front of him.

“Hi, Lucy,” he says. “I like that you let us call you that. Lucy. It’s very college.”

“Yeah, well,” Lucy says, “Ms. Callaghan would feel too high school, and if we don’t make it very clear we’re not professors, we get crushed.”

“Crushed. What a great word.”

Lucy nods. This kid couldn’t be anymore obvious if he tried.

“You know, my mom is friends with your mom,” Luke says. “Avery Egan. She teaches Women’s Studies at Eastern.”

“Oh. Yeah, we’ve met. Smart lady.”

“The smartest. You’re probably that smart, too.”

Lucy smiles, but inside, she wants to rip off all her skin and maybe die. Don’t these students know she’s married? Don’t they know she’s a mother?

“I’ve got a long way to go,” she says. “So … this is your second semester?”

“Yeah,” Luke says. “I’m from the Ann Arbor area. Saline.”

“And you didn’t go to Michigan?”

“I only got into the commuter campus. This was the best I could do. Full scholarship isn’t bad, either.”

Lucy tries not to think about how different her life would be if she’d gotten a full scholarship anywhere. Not even faculty parents could fix that.

“Definitely not,” Lucy says. “So, what do you think you want to major in?”

“Business.”

“Hmm. Somebody’s got to make the money.”

“That’s what I was thinking. You’d like my brother better than me. He’s still in high school, but he’s really good in English class. He writes short stories. Kinda reminds me of the kid in Stand by Me.”

“Wouldn’t that make you dead John Cusack?”

“I guess so.”

Luke looks around Lucy’s desk until his face falls. Lucy traces his eye line all the way to her favorite photograph – one of her and Will, holding hands and grinning outside the Fox Theatre around Christmas two years ago, a bouquet of light behind them. They never even spotted Sadie with her camera.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Luke asks.

The question is, of course, overstepping. But Lucy sees no point in lying. She holds up her left hand in case he missed the bands before.

“Husband,” she says.

Luke’s face falls even closer to the floor.

Lucy takes no pleasure in it. Poor kid can’t control it. This is just the price of having your domain exactly where you want it.

And after this, she’ll get to go home and see Will.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day 2! yes, this was kind of purposefully written as a crossover with my new fiction blog, @irishhills, but i kind of felt like i had to do a soft launch, lol)

[collisiondiscourse]

on the wonder duo (part 1)

(BNHA Analysis Post Ahead! This isn’t explicitly romantic, but it is an analysis of the relationship between the two most popular characters in BNHA--Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Split into two posts because I realized that this was gonna be long as HELL)

yall ever think about the fact that the wonder duo is perfectly set up in so that bakugou and deku together are the better version of all might?

bc like. ive been thinking.

everyone knows the win to save and save to win parallel. How they are supposedly two halves of a whole perfect hero (which, previously, was defined as all might)

but ever since bakugou and deku started working as one—growing together to win AND save and continuously reminding each other that they shouldnt try to do things alone, ive realized that its BECAUSE theres two of them that they surpass all might. its not a case of deku and bakugou both being 50% of an ideal hero, but rather i think that they are 100% of what all might SHOULD HAVE BEEN from the very beginning.

as early as the AM v AFO battle in kamino, we see the effects of all mights flawed existence. the fact that he, the greatest and supposedly infallible symbol of peace, was destroyed—society had begun to collapse. there was suddenly no pillar to hold people together and the impacts were so severe that even in the latest chapters of mha it keeps on getting worse. the truth is, all mights biggest mistake was the burden he placed on his own shoulders

with bakugou and deku... its different.

its different for them because down to their attributions, they seem like two halves of a whole person.

i think that the wonder duo are going to surpass all might because of the fact that they work together.

@bakugoukatsuki-rising @svpercraigus @tybee​ @isaustraliaathing​

(batshit crazy and conspiratorial essay under the cut !)

1. Complementary Colors

I’d like to first preface literally everything I say by the fact that I am not an expert analyzer or literary major in any way. I am literally just some random fan on the internet who has wayyy too much time and looks wayyy too deep into things, but here we go!

A common thing we see when we talk about bakugou and deku is the way they are... sort of an inverse of one another.

Down to the design of their features and the way they move, Deku is the obviously softer of the two. There’s an intentional contrast between the two of them, in the way that Deku’s drawn with round shapes and curvy hair and the way Bakugou is literally all spikes and half-mast eyes and rough muscles. Bakugou’s movements too are languid and showy, with the way he leans when he walks and splays his legs and kicks open doors. Katsuki, in a casual sense, is loud and dramatic. 

Deku on the other hand s finicky. He jitters when he walks and he’s often fidgeting and mumbling. Comparatively, the aura he radiates is energetic and frenzied, even self-conscious to a point unlike Bakugou’s calm and confident movements.

the point is, there’s a clear difference in how either of them are designed and what exactly they are supposed to represent. They utterly complement each other down to the way they behave and even their main colors (red-orange and blue-green) being literal complementary colors.

Now, moving to my more ungrounded points, this is quite a bit of a stretch so I’ll try as much as possible to make sense of these with hyperlinked sources because. yeah.

Down to their names, I think Deku and Bakugou both symbolize something deeper. I think that the way Hori expresses characters and what they’re meant to do is something that we have to pay close attention to when we talk about the Wonder Duo’s rise to success.

Izuku Midoriya (緑谷 出久), as some of us may know, does have an interesting meaning when broken up. According to a lovely fan translation of his name, ‘Izuku’--while not an actual name used commonly in real life--means to ‘Come out’ or ‘Long time’. ‘Midoriya’ on the other hand means (Midori) ‘Green’ and (ya) ‘valley’. The translator further pointed out that his first name ‘Izuku’ could be a reference to him being the first legendary hero to come out of the long-running All Might Era. (or, if you’ve been reading @/bakugoukatsuki-rising’s posts, the first significant anime protag in a long while to come out as queer, ppfft)

but that isn’t my focus right now.

We know that Hori LOVES telling stories with names, and more often than not in the BNHA universe, names alone tell us a lot of things about the characters. When referring to Izuku’s last name, Midoriya, it’s important I think to step back and realize that hey, maybe there’s something more to Green Valley than just the fact that his motif is all green.

After searching for a lil on the specifics of green valley, I’ve found out that across many cultures, the colour green and valleys in general tend to represent life. From dream analysts, to Christianity, and even old Taoist teachings, valleys are seen as areas of fertility and escape. They are seen as safe havens and often escapes for people to come to after running away from bad circumstances.

(Sound familiar?)

Deku, in essence represents life and peace. He represents being the “salvation” that the world in BNHA needed. To me, it sounds like Horikoshi is trying to say that he is the long-awaited hero in the sense. The one that people can feel will create a society that feels safe for everyone after years of All Might just saving people from themselves as a band-aid solution.

On the other hand, we have Katsuki Bakugou (爆豪 勝己), who’s name we commonly know means (Katsuki) Winner and (Bakugou) Explosion Master. He is essentially, the champion. The power. His name means success and power and all the things that make up winning.

When putting them side by side, it then becomes increasingly... interesting to me how their names almost perfectly slot into All Might’s save to win and win to save mantra, and how they are both quintessential parts to what made All Might as a hero.

2. Hero Too!

Now, I’m not even gonna really TOUCH much of what happens in canon. If you want me to do a step by step breakdown of their arcs in regards to the plot of manga and anime, feel free to send me a gratuitous ko-fi tip so I can pay for the headache I get after trying to organize my thoughts into word vomit.

What I WILL talk about on the other hand, is the subtle shift both of them slowly have in regards to how they look. Bakugou and Deku, while growing up, seem to have MANY many parallels--but before I elaborate on all of that, I wanna talk about something else.

Detour: Deku’s Red Shoes 

We all know the iconic symbol being Deku’s red shoes. For all his life, save for some outfits like his hero one, we see Deku more often than not wearing his signature red sneakers which have become a running joke in fandom.

But the funny thing is, in Japan, red shoes seem to have an interesting connotation.

In 1922, a popular Japanese nursery rhyme was written, called “Red Shoes”. The interesting part to me about this song was the symbolism that, in my tiny pea-sized brain, I could connect to the story of BNHA.

The story goes that there was a little girl with red shoes named ‘Kimi’. She was from Shizuoka prefecture (which, if you didn’t know, is most likely where Musutafu supposedly is) and was raised by a single mother. When she was young, her mother had to entrust her with a foreigner under the impression that they would give her a better life in America. The stranger is a man named Charles Hewitt (who was described to have blue eyes) and supposedly took her away. 

The singer of the song (supposedly the mother, but some argue it was written from the perspective of a childhood friend) believes that Kimi is happy and living a better life away from them, when the reality of the situation was much worse. The young girl with red shoes in actuality had Tuberculosis, and thus the foreigner whom she was entrusted to had left her to fend for herself and eventually left her to go to America while she died alone and orphaned.

“When I see red shoes, I think of her.”

A very interesting story with very interesting implications indeed.

-

Anyway, moving on to the more... “nuanced” and connected parts of this section, I have every reason to believe that Bakugou and Deku were simply MEANT to be working together down to how they dress. Now, I’d like to discuss their hero costumes.

At the start of their series, using these godawful pics for reference, it’s clear to see that neither of them seem alike in any way--reflecting the dissonance in their relationship at that point in canon.

ough. deku why. (yes we know why its because you love your mom you stupid little bunny <3)

Anyway, we see an immediate gap in how the two of them are. Deku’s first costume is one that reflects how he treated his dream of being a hero. He was still in that childlike idolization phase, the one where his dreams and aspirations were hinged on pure feelings and inspiration from All Might. Katsuki on the other hand was a lot more tactical--professional to an extent. The gap between their respective development with their quirks is something that is clearly felt in every fashion decision they’d made.

(Notice how Deku’s green is a lot brighter and less like the green accents Katsuki has all over his costume.)

As time progressed however... their costumes changed. The colors, the silhouettes, the practical functions, most things.

(Deku’s Gamma Costume and Bakugou’s Winter Costume used respectively)

we begin to notice a few similarities.

As the show goes on and we see more evolutions of their costumes, it almost seems like they begin to look like a matching pair. Deku’s green grows darker and almost teal in nature, while Bakugou’s orange is veering towards red territory. This is important to note because red-orange and blue-green as I said earlier were complementary colors as compared to simply orange and green. The minute shift is something I really wasn’t quite sure was intentional, but something I find interesting to pick up nonetheless as the colors they used to accent their costumes begin to match up.

Secondly, I think and important thing to note is silhouettes. The way that both Bakugou and Deku’s costumes are designed follow a lot of parallels that typically we don’t see with the rest of 1-A. For one, they both have a combination of tight long-sleeved tops with a bulkier set of bottoms. They also share the use of utility belts and metal pieces typically worn around their necks. Deku has his bunny-eared hood that mimics All Might’s hair, while Bakugou has his orange and black explosion ear-pieces that mimic his own quirk.

i don’t think any other people in class 1-A match each other as subtly yet strongly as these two. Uraraka and Deku and Bakugou and Kirishima do come close however.

“But Codi, you fucking knob!” I hear you plea. “This is such a reach and tells us practically NOTHING!” And yes, I’m inclined to agree with you! You’d be sort of right in the idea that this is a reach. Maybe I am looking too much into this, and maybe it really isn’t that deep--but I do think that them subconsciously matching outfits means something quite brilliant.

In the way that their costumes are designed, each aspect of either outfits have a very logical explanation. The changes were strategic and made with their fighting styles vividly in mind, so what that tells me is that BECAUSE these costumes are so complementary or similar in nature (Bakugou’s reinforcing his arms while Deku reinforces his legs), these two are implicitly showing the audience that their combat styles are complementary as well. 

The evolution of their design choices and similarities tell us that even unknowingly, their minds line up in strategy on the battlefield--a clear exhibit for why they would be INCREDIBLY POWERFUL as a Hero Duo to begin with.

When I look at their hero costumes side by side, I see a mirror. I see the way that these two are reflections of each other and are strong where the other isn’t. The point I see in BNHA repeatedly is that EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS. Nothing is infallible, regardless of how hard you train or how powerful your quirk is. Everyone will always have a weakness, but the significant difference I see when fandom discusses the future of Pro-Hero Society is that the new generation is finally raising itself to be RELIANT on each other. 

Observing their fighting styles and the simple use of their quirks, its obvious that they are indeed two parts of a whole hero. Bakugou, who’s quirk emphasized his arms and hands and the power that comes from it, while Deku who’s quirk now emphasizes his legs and lower body and the way he’s always running to save people.

IN CONCLUSION:

As they become heroes, it is easy to assume that if nothing else, Bakugou and Deku will cover each other’s weak spots (especially when you consider the way Deku probably won’t be able to keep using his arms with the way both the anime and manga are going...) (also chapter 285, anyone?)

-

Part Two: Interactions, OfA

kofi || commission details

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Season 5 Retrospective

Finished season 5 rewatch a few days ago. Season 5 was an eventful year for the show, on and off the screen. Off screen the show got cancelled on Fox, had a huge public outcry over the cancellation which included several celebrities, and then got picked up by NBC all in 48 hours. It was an exhilarating time as a B99 fan. Lot of stuff happened on screen as well, Jake and Rosa were in prison, team got them out, Jake and Amy got engaged, Rosa came out as bisexual to the precinct and her parents, Holt was in the running to be NYPD Commissioner, Amy became a Sergeant, and then Jake and Amy got married. Eventful season to say the least. Its also my favorite season of the show.

Honestly, this season is about as close to perfection I felt with a season. In other seasons there are at least an episode or two which I felt were meh or problematic. Season 5 is near flawless. I think Return to Skyfire is the weakest of the episodes but its still pretty fun. There are several episodes of season 5 that all rank in the top 10 B99 episodes in my opinion. The show also takes some risks with a couple of experimental episodes. There are episodes with a lot of heart, there are episodes that absolutely hilarious, there are ensemble episodes, there are two hander episode. some excellent new guest stars, and many great recurring stars.

I think the two prison episodes are pretty interesting. Tim Meadows as Caleb is absolutely amazing. He is so likable and low key hilarious that the fact that he's a cannibal who eats children always feels like a dark surprise. He and Andy Samberg make for a fun duo. The first of the two episodes is particularly fun. The show doesn't hesitate to show the danger of Jake being in the prison, especially the situation he finds himself by the end of the premiere. The show does connect one story to the next pretty seamlessly with the end of the Melanie Hawkins story connecting the the Seamus Murphy story which then connected to the Holt commissioner story. There are also a couple of really good experiments in experiments and story with The Box and Show Me Going. The Box is B99 at its most confident. Apart from Gina very briefly at the beginning and Boyle very briefly at the end, the entire episode really hinges on only three characters. Jake, Holt, and Sterling K. Brown's Dr. Davidson. Its a brilliant showcase for all three actors and all three characters. I believe Brown got a Guest Actor Emmy nomination for his performance and he's brilliant as the smarmy Dentist who really is in control for majority of the episode. Braugher and Samberg were old pros with their dynamic at this point and this is fantastic Jake and Holt episode because you completely get why Jake wants so badly to prove that he's right in front of Holt why being cast as the screw up and the idiot in the interrogation frustrates him so much because we know how much Holt's approval means to him. We also see why Terry call Jake his best detective back in season 1 because of how he riles up Davidson to get the confession at the end and getting the approval of Holt that he wanted. Its an incredibly satisfying episode and one of the show's best imo. Then there is also 'Show me Going' which is a surprisingly tense episode in which nothing tense actually happens on screen. The episode does a great job working with the fact that the only knowledge the squad has is that Rosa is on the scene of an active shooter situation. Basically we are in the same situation as the characters. Since all the characters are on edge, so are we. The show does a nice job balancing humor and recognize the danger of the situation.

The season has probably my favorite B99 episode and definitely by fav B99 Halloween episode with HalloVeen. Whereas the last three Halloween episodes were predictable or spoiled from the promos, this one actually threw a genuine surprise. I knew Jake and Amy would get engaged some point in the season, but I expected it to be on the much hyped 99th episode. Instead it can much earlier with HallowVeen and its a delight from start to finish. Its great to rewatch the episode because you pick up little signs that Jake was a bit more desperate to win than usual. First when he says that planning for the heist is what got him through prison time, and then when he says to Boyle that he has to win this time and this heist is way too important. On first watch, these details just slip by as regular overzealous Jake but they have additional poignancy on repeat. The actual proposal moment is handled beautifully in a very peraltiago way where it is both funny and romantic, with Charles' reaction being the cherry on top. There are quite a few strong related episodes that follow. The Venue being a fun return with the Vulture, Two Turkeys being a TWW reunion with Smits and Whitford returning as Amy and Jake's fathers. Its a better Thanksgiving episode than the previous season Smits appearance. Bachelor/ette party is another glorious episode with wild, fun shenanigans with Reginald VelJohnson appearing as himself. Jake & Amy is a very typical wedding episode where everything goes wrong but its perfect in all the right ways. Its heartwarming and sweet. You get more examples of how Jake and Amy are perfect for each other with Jake knowing the inside and outs of how Amy stresses out, and then ending on a wonderful B99 wedding with Fred Armisen returning to make a cameo appearance as Mlep(clay)nos. The episode was designed to work as a series finale since the potential for cancellation was there and while it leaves the season on a cliffhanger about Holt's job, its the sort of cliffhanger that we could have interpreted positively if the show hadn't gotten picked up by NBC.

The 99th and 100th episode of the show were also memorable. The creators chose to acknowledge the 99th episode in a way that most shows acknowledge the 100th episode, in true 99 style. Its a full ensemble episode barring the absence of Chelsea who would return on the 100th episode. Its a typical road trip episode which kickstarts the Holt commissioner storyline. It also is the episode where Rosa comes out as Bi to Charles. This was obviously a big story for Stephanie since she is bi as well and she championed this story. It gets explored in further depth next episode, but Stephanie Beatriz gets to do some of her best work in these two episodes, showing her vulnerability without losing her toughness. Game Night honestly feels very true to not just coming out as Bi to your parents but true to any child who has to confess something that would be against their conservatives parents' values. I think Game Night is a fantastically bittersweet episode and Danny Trejo is brilliantly cast as Rosa's father. The episode positions him as the parent whose reaction Rosa is most worried about and I love how they show that while its difficult for him to grasp the concept bisexuality, he comes around to accepting it and accepting Rosa. But the episode is still bittersweet with Rosa's mom not having come to terms with it. Its also an excellent Rosa and Jake episode where we see Jake endure incredibly uncomfortable situations to help Rosa. Its a characteristic that helps make Jake so endearing that he's willing to cross all limits for his friends.

There are lots of fun and hilarious episodes in between. Craig Robinson shows up as Doug Judy in The Negotiations which is another fun ep. Kevin and Jake get a great episode dealing with their dynamic in Safe House. Rosa and Amy have some fun in White Whale as the Sleuth Sisters. Pimento returns in Gray Star Mutual for some more crazy shenanigans. Gray Star Mutual also has my favorite cold open of all time with Jake leading a suspect lineup in a rendition of 'I got it that way', totally forgetting the crime that he's got the lineup for. Its pitch perfect and I've lost count of how many times I've seen that cold open on youtube. It basically has its own fanbase and introduced so many people to B99. We also get to see Naseem Pedrad as Jake's sister Katie and the end up having a cute dynamic. David Fumero shows up in The Puzzle Master. There are also pretty funny episodes dealing with some serious subject matter such Jake dealing with his own doubts in his ability to do his job after Prison in Kicks and Holt dealing with gambling addiction in Bad Beat. All handled very sensitively.

All in all, this was a fantastic season for the show. I had a blast rewatching it and it ended the Fox era in spectacular note. A 9.5/10. Now on to season 6.

'

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 71

“Wow,” Howard said in his lean forward in his seat taking in the manor that came into view after having followed the Twins’ points to guide the car down the proper pathway on your land. And through the drive inside the wall the car pulled up to the front door where they saw Victor in the doorway. His smile spread as Jarvis parked and him, Howard, Peggy and Daniel climbed out to look around at the Howlett Manor.

Daniel lowly muttered, “Oh ya, not after perks of the title at all.”

Victor in their walk over chuckled and said, “More for the size for the babies than anything. Our old cabin had seven bedrooms. Have to reshuffle some room for the babies.”

Daniel, “Shouldn’t the walking through the big place be contradicting to her need to rest?”

Victor, “Not really, Bunny has been pacing. The room is helpful for that.” His head nodded to the side, “Come on in she’s fixed up a snack.”

Every room along the way was detailed until Peggy smiled and crossed the spacious kitchen to give you a hug and then take a moment to take in the growth in size you had taken on since the last time you had seen her. “You look fantastic.”

“I feel like I’ve doubled in size, but we’re coming up on the end of the worst of it. Because if I grow any more they can just roll me around the place.”

Howard was next for a hug and said, “Now now, you are not being rolled anywhere. You look perfectly plump as you should.”

When he pulled back Sousa said, “Hell of a house.”

“Well it’s been in James and Victor’s family. Just finished off the major repairs and fix up jobs around the place and spent all our paint and stocked up papers for the walls.”

James smirked loading up the wheeled cart to guide everyone to the sitting room outside the kitchen to enjoy the snacks. After which another tour was to be had crossed by the path of the excited puppies and the babies in their being gathered up to head to their grandparent’s again.

Norma and Leanora, the former with a wide smile and the girl on her hip took her husband’s side for the rest of the tour as talk of the film took over and from another stop to a sitting room they got to business while Peggy and Daniel strolled with you through the Manor and out to the lake.

Daniel said, “You are sure you are fine? We can barely see the house.”

In a smirk at him as James’ hand smoothed over your lower back after you’d stepped over a known bunny hole in the tall grass you had marked with a rock. “I am perfectly fine. Go fishing daily. Helps to bring more food in for supper and helps to knock down the fish population. They’ve seemingly doubled since last summer. River must have froze over early preventing the bears time to fish later in the season.”

Daniel, “Bears? You have bears?”

You giggled and James said, “They’re not ours, but they’ve grown up on our land. They keep their space and are fairly docile when we cross in the forest.”

“I have a picture of some of the cubs we crossed by on our honeymoon. Heavier than they look but they are friendly and curious.”

Peggy said, “I thought it was key to not touch the cubs to prevent angering their Mum.”

“Normally, but they know our scents and we haven’t hunted any of the bears in years actually. We have a sort of deal with the zoo to loan out our males to help breed with their own bears when they need it. And they don’t seem too bothered when they are brought back. Or at least they tell us they aren’t.” James said and that had the confused Chief look at him making you giggle.

“James and Victor can talk to animals and trees. Helps to keep the land. Ooh,” you said lowering your gaze to a large porcupine that jumped at the sound of your approach and in its planned twist to flare out its barbs you could see its three baby porcupines who scurried across the path. With a fourth that was tangled in a small bunch of clover and wild flowers with wound up stalks who let out panicked cries at being left alone.

“Hey little guy,” the Chief watched as James’ hands clenched into fists and his iron laced claws with patchy spots of polished metal extended to be used in his crouch to slide between its now locked up legs while he panted and the plants trapping it there. In just a few careful motions the puffed up mother watched him scoop up the worried baby porcupine between both sets of claws he used like salad tongs to let the baby down a couple feet from her. Gently he released it and stepped back to your side with his claws receding and a smile that spread back across his lips. “She’ll calm down,” he said in the eager trot of the freed baby to his siblings’ sides.

Daniels said, “What was that? With your hands?”

James said, “Bone claws.” He said lifting his arm flat to show the still exposed nubs that eased back between his knuckles and bones in the back of his hand. “Though Jaqi helped to leech iron from our blood into the claws so they won’t break as easily back in the war.”

“How is that helpful?” Daniel asked.

Peggy, “Wouldn’t that make your arms heavier?”

James said, “It’s not a lot of iron, and it’s all from our own blood so there isn’t much difference beyond the fact that it took more effort for the other guys to break our bones. Not that they’d be broken very long.”

Daniel, “So you have fast healing like in the comics too?”

“Oh ya, makes war fun when you get to be shot left and right and pop right back up.” He mumbled with his voice fading off in your stroll past the grouped up porcupine family who took his murmured word as true that they could go back to berry picking when you had passed by in safety.

Peggy said, “Bunny, didn’t you have special healing as well in the comics?”

“Yes, although unlike them I turn metal after I heal.”

Daniel asked, “Actual metal?”

You nodded and raised a hand to lift the sleeve on your t shirt to show a small bruise on your shoulder you had been whacked by a trick door in your closet wardrobe that had him and Peggy tap your skin and the metal patch. “It fades to peachy again in time. Still getting used to the built in wardrobe in my closet. Some of the doors hate me.”

James said, “Vic is oiling the hinges for you now. Shouldn’t spring out anymore.”

You eased the sleeve down and you said, “So this birth should be interesting to watch unfold. But my Doctor is prepared for anything. Says the girls are healthy and it shouldn’t be too rough a birth on me outside of nerves for how many there are.”

Peggy, “They do have gas now. I have a cousin, she just gave birth and they gave her this gas that helps with the pain.”

“My Doc says that won’t work. Pain medicine dissolves in my bloodstream within seconds thanks to my healing powers,” parting their lips, “But he says he has a pair of medicines, one like laughing gas and another to make me sleep if it gets too bad. Sort of strong enough to kill a rhino medical grade pain meds.”

Daniel’s eyes shifted to James and he said, “How are you even standing right now? My brother in law just about collapsed hearing my sister might need stitches after her last birth?”

James smirked, “We’ll get through it. Can’t pass out I’m supposed to be there to hold one of the girls when they come out.”

Peggy, “You’re going to be there?”

He nodded and you said, “Victor and Eddie have been there for their daughters’ births, I was there for Teddy but they wouldn’t miss the girls since the nuns won’t be there to bar them.”

James, “As many people as Jaqi wants in the room will be there. Tons of space now for them all to do that.”

Daniel said in a turn of his head and view of the dock where Eddie was there already with fishing pole in hand, “Looks like your spot is taken.”

You grinned and said, “That’s my cousin Erik. His mom shouldn’t be far away.” You turned your head and waved to her in her stroll from an apple tree she’d gathered a group of apples to hand out to her son and your group who joined Erik on the dock to catch a couple more fish to go with his five he’d already caught.

.

“You should stay the night if you like. It’s a long drive back to Alberta and can get confusing in the dark.” You said as you caught Jarvis’ eyes drop to the inked numbers tattooed into the forearms of your aunt and cousin that Howard had stolen a glimpse at as well.

Howard with a wide smile said, “Sounds like a wonderful plan. Who would turn down a night in this place?”

The Twins and Herc came in with small tarps with metal handles on bundles of chopped firewood they split between the kitchen and a couple fire log stations nearby at fireplaces. When they came back to join you all as Victor and James got to start on lunch with Edie’s help Jeff said, “I think we got enough logs to stave off the storm.”

Daniel, “Storm?”

You said, “There’s a storm rolling in the week I’m due. Just prepping, it’ll be sunny tomorrow for your drive back.”

Herc asked in his lower to sit beside you with a nudge of a foot stool to lift your feet onto, “Still restless?”

You nodded and said, “No troubles yet. Nice and calm as usual like the day before my next Hicks blows in. Should be just fine for the Berry Festival tonight.”

“Berry Festival?” Howard asked with a smile and added that for the schedule. After lunch a round of desserts were gathered up to be taken in to town that had the group was excited to follow you in to the festival the town was readying. Excited buzz came from the people who gladly met your visiting friends and helped to warmly fold them into the activities as they took turns checking in on you.

Nestled under James’ arm sweet kisses were stolen between stops at your favorite spots and snack stands before you took up your seat at the dessert for a dance raffle. Gladly exempt you remained off of your feet beside Herc and your unseen parents with Leanora napping in the pram beside you that your hand kept rolling a couple inches back and forth to help her stay asleep.

Across the way you saw Teddy and his sister asleep by their grandparents and aunts and uncles while James took up the dance the woman who won his dessert grinned through hearing the plans ahead for his brewing family. Sharp and clear in a squeeze of Herc’s hand you inhaled deeply and brought his free hand to stroke your back in his hushed guidance through yet another painful Hicks contraction. “You’re doing good. Just a couple weeks yet.”

“Easy for everyone else to say,” you said in a reach for your drink Beau moved closer to you when the wave of pain washed away. Again you stroked a hand over your belly as the girls got to squirming around to show their return to ease.

Sight of the group of your guests who took up more of the un-partnered females onto the dance floor brought out your grin to Peggy and Daniel in a timid try for a dance that showed a few pauses to avoid trouble with his cane while his body still required use of it. In all the time he had been adjusting to the new leg his posture had grown better and a few strolls across rooms were simpler without use of the cane until he had to turn or step aside. Signs that he was close to a more natural ease of motion were made clear as Peggy’s hushed suggestion had the dance simplified and had her move in closer for a slow dance that coaxed his grin wider.

From home you subtly called your camera and snapped a picture of the groups. A kiss could have been stolen yet wasn’t, not even through the beautiful sunset and firework display. But with hands still interlocked when time came to drive home again the near to blushing duo accepted their guest rooms that were side by side. Spare pajamas already in the closets were found in their sizes and the peaceful dark everyone eased into nightly rituals to coax them off to sleep.

Changed and on your way to bed again as you sat on the end of your bed with a leg curled underneath you to the sound of James changing into his pajama pants you marveled at this new magnificent room. And from the edge on planted hands you eased back farther onto the bed to tuck your legs in and close your eyes to take in the gradual changes in your body. Still without change to your hips to show signs of labor your eyes opened to another stroke of your hands underneath James’ t shirt you brushed up exposing the giant shiny bubble your stomach had grown into. “You grow more beautiful by the day.” He hummed lifting your gaze to him on his approach of the bed.

“I wish I could be more affectionate in return.”

He chuckled and lowered onto the bed to nestle up against your side with arms around you in the release of the shirt that wrinkled under his arms, with a press of his lips to your cheek he hummed sweetly, “You are more than affectionate. The greatest thing you could do to show me affection is tend to the whims of our wandering girls.”

Softly you sighed and leaned in to claim a kiss on his lips he melted into and smirked in the rest of your forehead to his afterwards, “I just keep wandering around. I don’t get it. Trips to the lake, strolls around outside, in the house, I can’t just sit and read like I used to. Even my translations are behind.”

“It’ll be over soon, my incredible Darling.” He said accenting it with another kiss on your lips that had him hunch into an awkward position to keep you from being into an awkward position at the rest of your hands onto his neck and cheek. Sweet kisses and a round of cuddling that broke for a yawn ended in his help for you into the nest of pillows he followed you to wrap around you when the lights were out to get ample rest.

.

Two weeks seemed to roll by and with each day levels of exhaustion waxed and waned to the clear radio coverage on the odd storm brewing over your chunk of Canada. Now with this since a trip of a reporter Howard brought who was covering the upcoming film along with an interview for Norma through him you were confirmed to be alive still and not missing. Yet when the reporter arrived back in New York word spread and now your doomed status took a new height at this freak storm out of nowhere. Amusement from that story however faded in the latest shift of your mood. Only inside you wandered between bouts of your having to sit upright and hunched forward that you took the chance to try and translate a bit of your documents until you had to eat or go to take another nap.

Even plans of Teddy’s second birthday or tries to plan more for your first set of lessons to arrive in the mail in the next week focus was fleeting. And now daily to this evident change on the tail end of Elliot’s arrival had you checked by Herc and given promises that Elliot would help to double check your latest flawed translation. Just notice of a mistranslated word had you shoving the papers away to keep from tearing them all up as you fought off frustrated tears your parents coaxed you through in a snuggling pile and distracting stories to calm you. After a sniffle you wiped your cheek again, “I don’t get it. First my socks didn’t match now I’m mad at a word.”

“Perfectly on schedule. All from the storm, my Dazzling Queen of the Cosmos.” Your father rumbled and pressed a kiss onto your forehead guiding you to lean into his chest.

“I would get furious when I carried you,” your mother said in her own brush of a tear from your cheek, “And I broke two of our mugs. Shoving a bit of paper is not much to balk at.”

Back in the kitchen James sighed and used the can opener to open another can of baby corn, “She threw socks at me.”

Victor chuckled, “Norma prefers pillows.” James sighed and looked at his brother making him chuckle and say, “One week, Herc says we’re near the end. First the gravity change and stair trouble, now this storm is rolling in.”

“If I may?” Elliot said in his ease into the kitchen while the Twins had been readying some tea for you to go with the snacks. The brothers nodded and Elliot said, “It’s not truly a rage, or anger, it is a bout of confusion. One of the final stages, helps to irritate mothers in the end stage. We don’t truly understand the purpose yet, however it is a good sign and will pass by morning.”

James sighed and said, “She could hurl a wall at me I wouldn’t care. I know it’s not under her control right now, but she cried for such a long time at throwing socks at me.”

Victor rubbed his upper back, sighing, “Nobody wants to see her cry. I hated those waves with Norma and the same when Dawn would be lost to tears. It’ll pass and then we get to have a calmer post baby sea of hormones.”

Elliot said, “She is strong, and will pass through this brilliantly. We are all here to see her and you through it.”

James nodded and the closer he got back to your side he felt that electric wave of nerves spike at the hints that you had been upset again. Internally his mother hen switch had been flipped so much so that Teddy had taken to cuddling with him to calm the trouble the boy didn’t understand to be brewing between his aunt and uncle. All day you bounced back and forth tossed about by the whims of your hormones.

And the day after the slow ease into your seat for breakfast had Erik and the Beserkers with the ability to feel your babies and their heartbeats in heart racing stares your way. Eddie however broke the silence asking, “What are you staring at?” His eyes switching between them and you in your groggy reach for some toast to strangely bite into unbuttered.

Herc said before James could repeat the question, “The girls are turned down now.”

Dawn said, “So, she’s near to labor?”

Herc nodded, “Yes,” and his eyes scanned over you in a glance over the tray of butter James brought over you used to spread across the piece of toast you took another bite of for a more satisfying bite. “Either later today or tomorrow. When we are through eating I will give her another exam.”

Sharp inhales and squirms in your chair at the end of the meal had you helped up and guided to your bedroom where a series of checks on both blood, scans with the girdle and physical presses of your belly confirmed the unmistakable.

A clap of thunder came and as the signs showed the storm was descending you were heard muttering in the hall as you paced through a break after your first contraction, “What about the bears?”

James smirked with hold of your hand he wrapped around his arm, “The bears will be perfectly fine.”

“But the rain, and the flowers! Jeanie worked so hard on the gardens!”

Your father said on your free side, “We have a barrier to protect the gardens.”

“The house flooded before, if it keeps raining-,”

Victor said on his chair along the wall you slowly walked past, “We built up the stone drainage walls to divert rainwater. We won’t flood again. We’re prepared for the rains, Pipsqueak.”

You nodded and remained fixed in the wait for the next contraction. Slow didn’t come close to the progress of this labor. More than half a day and still by Eddie’s watch the contractions were still over an hour apart while you felt more restless than ever showing signs that something was going to happen.

 .

“Your Highness, how are things in England?” Victor said with another glance down the hall at Edie returning to your room with a tray of food to keep up your strength.

“Very well. However we have been warned of this storm and I simply had to check if your family was safe.”

“Oh ya, we’ve seen this storm coming and are plenty prepared for however long it takes.”

“That is very good.” The line began to go static and he was heard saying, “Well I will let you dig in and please do call us if you need anything.”

“We will, Your Highness.”

“And do give our love to Bunny,”

Victor chuckled, “I will, and we are sending you the best as well.” He managed to say before the line went dead and he hung up to go and see what else he could do to help you.

Out of the bathroom when you had been helped from a bath now in a fresh pair of pajamas and your hair twisted up into a new braid he entered your bedroom. Sight of Victor mid exhale had him grin at your mildly irritated tone saying, “Don’t tell me to breathe, tell someone else to breathe. I am breathing fine.”

“That you are, Pipsqueak.”

“Come sit down, come eat.” Your mother said ushering you to the table set up beside your armchair coated by towels that helped you to hunch forward between painful contractions as your hips and pelvis refused to separate as it should to make room for the girls who were checked hourly for progress.

Food bled into a stolen nap, one of dozens where you would tuck up in your chair only to groggily awake to the next wave of pain that only worsened the struggle of those who had been on watch as you rested. Small stolen naps only seemed to worsen things as the pain grew more intense in the shrink of those time gaps.

.

One day bled into another supposed to be sunrise and while your father went to fetch some ice for you to chew on James took hold of your hands and eased them around his neck while you felt the next contraction coming on. Low and soft you squeaked out a whimper in a press of your forehead into his chest his hands rubbed your back in the mock slow dance pattern of steps to help ease this. Tired and simply aching to let this get over with your arms eased down and his hands planted again on your sides to follow behind you on the continued means to continue moving to not be stuck in one spot on a bed to suffer through this there.

“Shake,” Victor said in an offer of a glass and with ease his free arm moved out to let you take a grip on his bicep to drink a good few gulps of the shake he claimed hold of until your next lap when he would offer it to you again. Meals in one place now were out of the question and the few bathroom breaks you had were near unbearable at the pressure building in your hips. The tremble of your hands had him just about in tears and had him need a turn of his head away for a few steady breaths.

While Dawn and Norma rested the Twins watched the children in Eddie’s wing to let them be out of earshot if you did begin to get loud if things ever did pick up. And to the next loud explosion of thunder and shot of lightning across the sky the barely audible hum of the generators powering the lights were heard between the switch of records your mother was changing on the record player. Music was hoped to help calm things and give you something to focus on and even hum to as she had gotten you to do earlier in a failed try to get labor to quicken.

.

Eleven chimes of the clock sounded and fresh from another bath you walked to the foot of your bed to take a pausing moment with grip of the wooden frame to breathe after having faced another contraction in your closet Eddie and Victor in the hall asked Herc, “Two days?”

Herc wet his lips and said to another wailing wind that whipped around the walls outside on the other side of the shuttered windows at the end of the hall. “It shouldn’t be long now. Half an hour apart now.”

His head turned however to your mumble to James, who looked like he was in need of being knocked out to get some sleep at his reluctance to do so since you had been unable to get more than an hour long nap for two days. “Soon as these girls get out they’re grounded till I say so.”

Into your back his head tapped a moment and his hand moved to stroke your still hardened belly. “No arguments here, Darling.”

To the next tick of the clock however your eyes opened and your head turned to your dad who walked closer, “Another pain?” Your hand extended in the well of tears in your eyes and his rose to be claimed to plant on your stomach, a move that brought Herc and the guys back into the room. “Herc,”

Herc asked in his cross of the room, “Are the girls giving a signal?”

James, “Jaqi?”

Tearfully you whispered, “Their hearts, are slowing, down.” The last word was painfully squeaked and had his breath quicken with worry.

Your father said in a cup of your cheek with his free hand, “We mentioned a sign the girls could give. They know you’re tired, too tired to keep going. They’re ready to let us get them out now.”

Herc said in the plant of his own hand on your belly to check for himself, “Jaqi we’re going to move you to the bed and get these girls out.”

Elliot from the doorway said, “I have the tea,” fresh from your kitchen with tea cup in hand he added the ground herbal medicine into and brought it over to your reach as you were moved to be lifted onto and laid back on the bed. “Slow sips and you will start to gradually go numb to prepare for this.”

You nodded and accepted the cup while Herc readied the table and lined up Victor, James and your father to take hold of the babies while Eddie climbed to settle on the bed at your side to hold you up steady and to keep hold of your hand through this. From mental warning of the birth the Twins went to fetch Norma and Dawn from their own calming break in another sitting room at their own lack of sleep. Edie and Erik readied the bathing bowl your mother brought some warm water for it in a pitcher so they could clean the girls off nearer to you for the warned moment of panic after the birth was over and your body had healed.

James was the one to ease up your shirt through a stolen press of his lips on your brow as Herc with middle finger held by his thumb gave your belly a few gentle flicks. “Can you feel this?”

“Feel what?” you asked between sips and looked his way from James’ supportive grin that came into focus in his step back. “My, um, my hand is tingling.”

Elliot said, “Ooh, that is enough then,” careflly claiming your cup to not let you drop it on yourself and Eddie eased you back to lay down so Herc could feel around your belly.

Herc said in his catch of your eye, “Just a few moments now Jaqi and your girls will be here,” he said in a muffled voice tearing you from focus of the still slowing heartbeats in your belly. Into his hand a scalpel was produced after he had added his gloves. Firm and easy a single cut was made underneath your belly that was followed by another.

Just pressure alone in place of pain came in the feel of blood pooling to Eddie’s hands folding around yours tucked up near your shoulders in his hold in his slump beside your side. All of the bleeding was fully under the control of Herc. Who kept a stop on the incision that he kept open mentally to scoop out the first girl in a section of the conjoined sack that separated and over a towel on his lap he split open causing her umbilical chord to snap free from the other two parts of the joint sack holding her sisters. In the aftermath of that splash she was laid in the towel in James’ arms with a sharp cry that split his smile out widely as tears filled his eyes. Another splash followed in her sister being eased out with chord snapped off on its own as well for teary Victor to have hold of the wriggling girl who let out a shrill cry of her own then went quieter in his step back.

“One more,” Eddie murmured beside your ear after another kiss on your temple and a third cry had the final girl nestled in her grandfather’s arms while Herc finished the steps of the procedure and let the wound meet up again to instantly seal in a spreading silver ripple of skin. Venom meanwhile in his rest above your head through your mental link caught the same static feeling for when you had neared the end of your tether.

“Um,” you managed to murmur to a ring in your ears to the shallow shift of your breath signaled the reaction you had hoped to not face. Just as when you had lost your finger the very first time and again when you had seen the new hand to replace the one you had fed Venom to see three babies being pulled out of your belly sent a wave of panic through the others when your eyes rolled back and your head slumped to the side. Above your head Venom pressed his cheek to your scalp having felt the hazy blip that was your birth. And without the wound having healed yet still he was unable to ease into your body and help you through this to be conscious for your girls and family.

“Jaqi!” James said and Herc raised a hand to sense for any internal wound he’d have missed after tearing his glove off to sense what was wrong.

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle and said, “I think she fainted,” relaxing the others who came to sit around you at Herc’s reminder.

“Don’t go too far, have to keep the girls close,” they nodded and with his glove free hands he felt around your now fully silver belly that under your mother’s watch he folded down your waistband halfway to see the silver had spread lower. And in a shift back he eased up one of your pant legs he watched the silver spread down to a ring beneath your knees.

The line made her ask, “Is this normal?”

Herc replied, “For long labors, yes,” his hands shifted to the silver soles of your feet showing just where more of the stress of the past couple days had put on your body. “Ample meals, rest and massages should help her to recover. And we have the breast pump ready for if she is tired to nurse all three in a row after her first lessons on that.”

She nodded and asked, “How long would she be unconscious?”

Eddie, “Ten, twenty minutes. Jaqi hoped she’d not have passed out with the surgery if she had it when Herc first mentioned it.” He chuckled again seeing Norma and Dawn come over to see the girls the guys one at a time eased into the bathing bowl that was changed after each girl was clean and fixed into a diaper and a clean blanket from the pile Edie brought over. All in differing colors they were draped lovingly and as he sat down by your shoulder Erik drew attention to your belly that as the third girl was wrapped in her blanket began to shrink.

Inch by inch from your large belly as if pushed back in time from 48 weeks to your former figure now with a more toned layer of muscle visible in place of the dissolved fat and water weight absorbed back into your system. Careful presses of fingers showed proof that the muscle was healthy and had been built up to carry the weight of the three babies.

The Twins after having taken respectful pictures and filmed the baths used the body scanner to confirm the healing process when completed had you back to your original 89 pound self from after the war that had the baggy sleeping clothes and underwear you had on lay loosely over your slumbering body. To the clear need to change again Norma and Dawn went to your closet to bring out an old set of underwear and a nice set of your favorite two piece pajamas with a sleeveless buttoned silk top that would aid in nursing and being checked for progress on your healing. Your face and hands were the last to seemingly deflate and had Erik happily bring over the open jewelry box that held your original wedding ring and band laid in it to be swapped for the now oversized pair slumped sideways on your ring finger.

Twenty minutes later to the hushed question of if they could go ahead and assign the three names between the girls a deep breath from you had everyone ease in again with James, Victor and your father come to sit down at your side. From a view of the wall of shuttered windows your eyes turned to the top of Eddie’s head that had you tilt yours back to groggily grin up at him. “Hey Sis.”

Venom’s head from his neck smiled and said, “Hello, Sister.”

From them your head turned and the grin on your face fell taking notice of the lack of the giant belly that had your pulse kick up. “Darling,” James’ voice split through your moment of panic in his lean into your view with the girl he brought closer to you. “Our girls are right here.” On his knees he came closer and he moved over your legs to settle at Eddie’s bent legs and into reach of your chest over your folded arms she was eased luring focus of your loose rings on your raised hand.

“Hey, little one,” you said and turned your head in the ease of the other two closer as her curled fingers came out of the blanket to slide around your finger. All three girls cooed and shifted into your touch and gentle pecks on the tops of their heads.

Herc out of your sight said, “Just be careful on sitting up.”

Edie asked, “Are you hungry? It has been hours since you have eaten.”

“I could eat,” you said and smiles spread to that tired statement she hurried off to answer to that problem and grab the serving of stew and rolls from the kitchen in your wing. Erik at the nightstand over the girls’ heads reached for your loose rings and smiled in a shared lock of eyes and handed James your original rings he eased back onto your ring finger and sweetly kissed your lips.

“Have you settled the names yet?”

James shook his head and said, “Waiting for you. This angel was first.”

You nodded and said with a smile, “Aurora Nyx,” she answered with a coo followed by her sister to, “Belinda Rhea,” and lastly joined by, “Nova Carina.” All of the names that Herc had printed on their birth records with Pear Howlett and their title of The Honorable to the birth records and in the presentation of food Eddie helped to guide you up a bit to sit up against pillows while the girls were measured and had their hands and foot prints taken. Along that were given anklets that would grow with them that bore their initials to help differentiate between the three of them that they would be unable to be harmed by or remove.

To the other end of the room the group moved when your dirty dishes were taken so Sarah and James could help change you into your older layers which gave you a tear stirring view of the widespread bruises all over from the lower ribs to just below the knee. And when you were settled back she asked, “Did you want to try a breastfeeding lesson before you sleep? They shouldn’t be hungry but we can let you get some practice?”

You nodded and Aurora was brought over as your shirt was opened and nursing bra undone to have her guide you on your first nursing lesson, “Just ease her head, just like that,” she smiled in a nestle closer to your side as James stroked the top of your daughter’s head in the groggy droop of her silvery lilac eyes. The same shade all three had with the same white hair in tiny tufts of curls across the tops of their heads with a matching seven and a half pound weight to boast on.

When her few suckles had the infant drift off to sleep the two other girls were brought over for their own brief snacks that drifted them off to a deep sleep that by the droop of your eyes was welcome to give you a chance to be helped off the comforter they eased over you when you were redressed again. Soft and sweet she urged James to remain with you and the family would watch the babies while he nestled up with you and proudly he eased you on your side against is chest with gentle kisses given until he drifted off. Every second of his consciousness through this excruciatingly drawn out labor his only thoughts through his pain being how impossibly beautiful his wife was to have suffered so long to bring three girls into this world. Every second more beautiful than the last.

Exhausted from the process Victor took Norma to their bed to curl up around her as Eddie did the same with Dawn after Venom had seen the babies one more time and nestled his head into their foreheads wishing them a good night and promised to see them in the morning. Edie and Erik were last to head off to rest in the decided early breakfast they hoped you would rest until it was made. Just leaving the Beserker group awake to comment on the unbelievable birth process their dearest of friend had faced so adamantly to see it through no matter how long it took.

Silent relief and chimes of midnight echoed through the house to the roll of more protective thunder inside the cone of the storm channeled around your property that waned to softer drizzle over the distant town. Loud and boldly bells in the abandoned Beserker lands in Asgard woke every single creature there who knew as those within earshot of other Beserker outposts on other planets in other universes heard the message of Mother’s successful birth. Three little girls yet unknown across this planet were named throughout several Universes and Dimensions to swell pride in the chests of those who knew just how long the return and expansion of the ruling clan had been awaited.

Pt 72

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​​, @alishlieb​​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess​, @changlingkhat​

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam​​, @swoopswishsward

[itsclydebitches]

Do you think Ruby will kill Grimm!Summer and if so, how do you think that will clash with her objection to killing Penny?

I think it's all going to hinge on a) how the story portrays Ruby reacting to Jaune in Volume 9 and b) what sort of shape grimm!Summer is in.

First, they may not have Ruby kill Summer at all. And I don't just mean that the plot will twist to ensure someone else has to (somehow, without silver eyes) do the deed because she's unavailable, thereby freeing her of that hard choice — precisely like how Ruby was conveniently in the void by the time Penny needed to die. Rather, Summer might still be able to be saved. Many (myself included) have theorized that if Ruby's eyes destroy grimm and grimm only, she might be able to destroy the portion of a grimm that possess a person (for lack of a better word), leaving the rest of them intact. That's mostly come up in Salem discussions — could Ruby remove the influence of the grimm pool, leaving human!Salem behind? — but now that same question applies to Summer too. When she used her eyes on the Hound we saw the grimm part of him get stripped away, revealing the faunus underneath, before the goo of the grimm started Venom-creeping back over the rest of him. If Ruby could give off a more powerful blast, perhaps she could erase the grimm portion entirely, all in one go, sort of akin to how they won the geist fight in Volume 4. Hit it harder, all at once, until after a single blow only the core of the beast remains. In each case the grimm would leave the thing it possessed.

So that's Option B: is Summer in a state where it's possible for her to recover in some way? How deep do these grimm experiments go, are silver eyes capable of destroying the grimm without killing the person? How much of the original Summer would be left without the grimm parts? etc. etc. Lots of questions we don't have any answers to. Option A, however, comes up if we're given a scenario where Summer is beyond hope. She's a grimm now, no way to fix it, killing her is seen as a mercy. And that, I think, is the crucial difference. Ruby unequivocally said no to killing Penny... but Penny also wasn't presented as having to die. It's one of the rare moments in the volume where I 100% agree with what Ruby is saying. Penny has been hacked, her order is to open the vault, and then she's set to self-destruct. So how does killing her benefit anyone in anyway? They obviously want to save Penny, so all killing her at the manor would do is hurry the self-destruct along, the thing they want to stop. They want to keep the Maiden powers safe, but killing her might risk sending them off into the world, lost, or even wind up with Cinder if her attempts to steal them formed any connection. Obviously we know now that the powers didn't go to Cinder, that Penny was able to think of Winter and send them to her, but my point is that just killing her then is a HUGE risk. Finally, there's no real danger in opening the vault. I mean yeah, they don't want Ironwood to get the staff... but like, he just wants to leave. If Ironwood were planning to use the staff to, idk, decimate all of Atlas I can understand the group considering killing Penny to be worth avoiding the potential death of an entire kingdom, but there's no threat to anyone if Ironwood does somehow snag the relic. The only threat here is that opening the vault will allow Salem to get the relic instead, but the group decides to open the vault anyway. Penny is basically going, "If you don't kill me now then I'll open the vault, which will lead to Ironwood escaping Salem with a large portion of the kingdom and standing down from his bomb threat, and then I'll die!" So you want them to kill you to avoid... other people not dying? And you want to die so you don't... die?

It's absolute nonsense.

This is basically a long-winded way of saying that killing Penny in that moment wouldn't benefit the good guys in any way, shape, or form. The fact that Penny suggests it at all is monumentally stupid. It's a Deep, Dramatic Moment that makes absolutely no sense. "You have to kill me!" she cries... even though killing her does nothing good, likely does a whole lot of bad, and absolutely does a Big Bad by hurrying along one of the major things everyone is trying to prevent: Penny's death.

Of course Ruby said no. That's the smartest Ruby is in the whole volume.

But when Jaune is faced with the question? Well, it's meant to be a very different context. I've gone on the record multiple times as saying that the show did a HORRIBLE job of justifying the need to kill Penny, but I also recognize that we're supposed to believe that was the best option on the table. Unlike at the manor, Penny's death does achieves something here: giving her the ability keep the powers safe. It's also presented as inevitable: Penny will (supposedly) die regardless, so better that she die when she chooses, preventing Cinder from getting more power, then dying in a few minutes with more risks attached. The manor death had nothing going for it. The finale death — no matter how badly executed — is meant to be justified to some extent, whether we personally agree it or not. We're still meant to realize, "Yeah, Penny is dying, no way to avoid it, so killing her will at least help keep the power out of Cinder's hands and will give her some agency over the time she has left." It's still stupid, but it's a "You wrote this scene really badly" stupid rather than a "This entire concept is nonsensical" stupid.

So Ruby has never actually been in Jaune's position. For all her insistence that she won't let anyone die, Ruby has never actually been in a scenario where killing someone would do the most good for the world, or would put someone out of their misery, or would give them some agency over their own existence — all the things that Penny's death is (again) supposed to represent. We don't know what she'd choose if death was inevitable and she was faced with providing a "kinder" death, or what she'd choose if a death was, from a practical perspective, presented as the best way forward. That's because right now the story is horribly written and Ruby isn't forced to choose anything, but if they actually brought her back to her Volume 1-5 self, I can easily see her killing her mother as an act of kindness. Summer was turned into a monster by Salem. The very thing she's spent her whole life trying to eradicate. There is no possible, other way to help her. She is a danger to Ruby and all of her friends. Perhaps, if a part of her is still lucid, she expresses that she doesn't want to continue living like this, being the thing she despises, being Salem's tool, being a danger to her daughter. So Ruby kills her as an act of mercy and love. It's presented as a release from a nightmare existence.

But that potential, future characterization depends on whether Ruby understands the choice Jaune made. Again (again, again, again) I think the story did a terrible job writing that scene and that it didn't succeed in justifying the kill, but for the purposes of what I think the story was trying to do, Ruby may well parrot all that back in Volume 9: "Yes, Jaune. Penny was dying and there was no way to save her even though your semblance is healing. There was nothing else you could have done even though you might have gotten her through the portal and saved here there. Killing her then kept the powers safe messy lore aside. You did the right thing, horrible as it was." And that acts as setup for Ruby doing the same thing for Summer later on. Either that, or she's initially furious at Jaune and comes to realize — after some messy and contradictory character arc — that he did the right thing all along and she was just too grief-stricken to realize it. Which I will hate if we get that given how badly it'll all end up lol.

So those are the two theories I'm leaning towards. Either the story, in the fashion of Volume 8, will ensure that Ruby never has to make the hard choice of whether to kill her mom or not (oh god I'm imagining a scene where Yang offers to do it instead as some act of sisterly devotion/a sacrifice so the "pure" sister remains pure no no no no), or Summer's situation is (no doubt just as badly) presented like Penny's second request for death, as a necessary act that Summer wants, will assist the heroes in some way, and is definitely the Best and Only Thing To Do.

Of course, Option C is that this is... just never resolved. It definitely speaks to my lack of faith in RWBY atm, but given how many important things we've dropped I would not be surprised if Summer is never actively introduced into the series again. RWBY may well treat this as the answer to a mystery that never existed until said "answer" arrived, the writers viewing this merely as the explanation of what happened to Summer and nothing more. Don't get me wrong, viewers are 100% right to expect more in the future. This change raises even more questions than were already attached to Summer's disappearance and the existence of the Hound absolutely implies that, in a well written story, grimm!Summer will appear somewhere down the line. But, to be blunt, RWBY is not a well written story. So if some number of years from now we look back and go, "Wow, the answer to how they'll handle this is that they... didn't. This was never brought up in a meaningful way again" I really wouldn't be surprised.

[chat-noir-always-here]

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is 

actively 

trying

to kill you?!

 Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold! 

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show���Miraculous. 

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends. 

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.” 

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see. 

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage. 

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

 Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid. 

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids. 

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him. 

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality                   vs.          Surface Personality

 I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into. 

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien. 

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

 Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

 Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time. 

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time. 

 In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series. 

 But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

 And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity? 

Clinginess. 

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that. 

 What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

 It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed. 

 The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

 He treats his friends better.

 He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE. 

WORST.

 PARENT.

 EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

 Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s. 

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning. 

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that. 

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying. 

 But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight. 

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

 The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

 The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do. 

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

 Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.” 

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story. 

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is. 

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks. 

 But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes. 

 I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette? 

;)

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

hello friends this is a post about Food Issues, having a body, and wearing clothes. I would actually like some advice, if you have any ideas for how to circumvent this problem.

tl:dr: all of my clothes are too big. like, to a ludicrous, untenable point. I need to wear clothes, as one does, but how?

I have lost an amount of weight recently, because of the Not Eating Problem. I do not own a scale and am not interested in one, for compulsion-minimization reasons, so I do not know how much weight.

the problem, however, is that absolutely none of my pants fit! I don't have a lot of summer pants, like three pairs, and all of the ones I have are much too big now. very too big.

I am not super invested in how clothes look on me, but I generally like to own at least some clothes that support the standard modesty requirements for leaving one's home. significantly too-big pants just don't want to stay on your body, because of how gravity is.

I don't own a belt. I could get one, which might fix the problem for the pair of pants I wear most often, so I should do that, but I don't think the other two pairs of pants have belt loops. I should dig them out of the laundry (or, like, wash the laundry) so I can check. is there a way to belt pants that don't come with loops?

belt acquisition would bring my wearable wardrobe to at least one pair of pants, no skirts, and I think three dresses, but I'd have to try the third one on. dresses tend to work better because they just look sort of awkwardly large on me, rather than literally trying to migrate off my body whenever gravity happens.

oh, plus my new dress, which I haven't unboxed yet, but also did buy with the assumption that I was approximately the size my body was in April, and I am some distance from that size, so we'll see how that goes.

so four dresses, one of them theoretically a bit fancy for casual wear, but also clothes is clothes, and one pair of pants if I can figure out belts.

that's not completely dire, but it's also Not Great, right? how many clothes items should one have? that doesn't seem like enough. I feel like I should have maybe two pairs of pants, in theory. also, I'm quite bad at laundry, which would be a problem even if I could wear all the clothes I have.

I am hesitant to buy pants that fit my current body size, for several reasons

(a I don't know how long I'm going to be here. I'm eating slightly better. I'm certainly not out of the woods, but I'm cautiously optimistic. my understanding of how this works is that once you start eating reliably, you bounce back up to somewhere that I am hoping is roughly around where I started out, so I can wear my clothes again and not have to buy a whole-ass wardrobe. if I do end up in a very different place long-term, I will burn that bridge when I come to it.

the place I currently am in seems temporary, is my point.

(b I do not actually spend a lot of time actively thinking about my weight, even when my food issues are as bad as they get, but I do have a history of having big negative feelings when I discover that clothes that used to fit me are now too small, because of Cultural Messaging and also being neurotic. I am feeling a bit fragile and the idea of giving myself a ticket for Future Bad Feelings About Your Body To Be Redeemed Once You Start Taking Care Of Yourself Again seems like a bad ticket to get.

(c being more mentally ill is already costing somewhat more money than being less mentally ill does, which is making me a bit scrupulous about the idea of buying clothes that will only be useful to me for... what, like a month? who knows! I do actually have the money, but it feels like Bad Choices money and I'm already spending my Bad Choices money on "making my life easier so I can focus on trying not to die."

(d this problem doesn't feel as insurmountable as the others, but usually my clothes acquisition process involves "talking to my mom or aunts about different clothes items" and I 3000% can't do that here,

all of those people would hear "lost weight due to literally starving to the point of physical sickness" and go either "great!" or, at best "maybe figure out how to eat enough that your body works without gaining any of the weight back" and NOPE.

I'm theoretically supposed to see my parents in October, but I may have to cancel for allegedly COVID reasons but actually like 40% insecurity about being exposed to my parents' COVID choices and 60% the knowledge that if they see me like this they will say something complimentary about my ED-related significant weight loss and that would be... a very bad experience! I do not want to have it! so I should table "convincing my parents not to be here" for right after "being able to dress myself"

also (e I kind of don't want to know how much I weigh now, or any current size measurements of how small I am. it seems like information I would prefer not to have for compulsiveness reasons. they feel like numbers I could get attached to.

okay! time for the solutions I have thought of

(a suck it up! get a BuildingFriend to measure me so I have some numbers that correspond to my body size and just don't be fucking insane about them! use those numbers to buy some clothes, probably cheap ones, as they will be temporary! spend some amount of money! tell my parents nothing and convince them not to come here! eventually donate the clothes when they no longer fit you! just don't be fucking insane about it!

the pros of this plan are "will own clothes I can leave the house in." the cons are that this does hinge to a certain extent on "just don't be insane in the future about things" which seems like writing a check I cannot cash.

(b just figure out how to do laundry, like, once a week. wear your dresses. get a belt. just don't wear pants when you're alone in your apartment, for maximum longevity of your few clothes options.

the pros here are "minimal expenditure of money, less to be insane about in future." the cons are both "laundry is so hard, though" and also, this feels like it will end with my five options getting worn out pretty quickly. how many times can you wear a dress before it ceases to dress? what if one or more of these things gets totally destroyed during its tenure as an essential clothing item and then I have to figure out how to do even MORE laundry?

option A feels like it relies on a major expenditure of current and future Mental Health, which, do I have that? any of that? it's daunting. not impossible, but scary.

option B feels not implausible, but also somewhat tenuous? I would prefer to have more redundancy than that in my "being able to wear clothes" systems. it also relies on Magic Laundry Spoons and I feel like this will result in even more time in objectively very dirty clothes.

I have already considered and discarded "asking my mother for help with the thing she is most literally insane and damaging about" and also "just ceasing to wear clothes" mostly because I have been explicitly told by my therapist that I need to go outside and socialize more and both of those things typically require clothes.

if anyone has an option (c, or a suggestion for either "doing more laundry/preserving longevity of clothes" or sort of "being less insane generally about clothes" please do share!

[reptile-ruler]

Agshr wait tell me more about that bad enemies-to-loverd subplot, I'm curious now

LMAO yes I will. I've had this rant in me for a while now. (CW for discussion of sex, noncon, murder, sexism and other dark themes) Also major spoilers for the book Freja by Johanne Hildebrandt if anyone meant to read it. I don't even know if it's available in other languages asdfgh

TL;DR is that I don't like romantic subplots where the only spark between the characters is physical attraction.

So this book is an origin story for the norse gods. It's about Freja, a priestess and seer for her people, a matriarchal queendom where her mom is the ruler.

Tor is the love interest. He, his father Oden and their family worship a warrior god and are really sexist. They've come plundering and killing people in the neighboring kingdom, and Freja and some priestess friends are sent to negotiate and possibly find some weakness in case there needs to be war between the kingdoms that existed here and there intruders)

It's so clear from the beginning that Tor and Freja are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum of values and their outlook on women's role in the world. He's very 'men are the best and women should be submissive and obedient and do as she's told' and she is very 'there must be equilibrium, or the world balance will be broken, but also men can't rule, ruling is a woman's job'. And you know, both have flaws in their values in my opinion. I felt like that was something that could help them both grow as characters. And Opposites Attract are port of the whole enemies to lovers thing.

From the moment Tor sees Freja, he's horrendously horny for her. She's the most attractive woman he's ever seen, and he wants to bang that.

From Freja's point of view, Tor is a plunderer, a rapist and a murderer. She hates him and it's her mission to find out how to kill these men if they won't pay for plundering the land. But then she receives a vision from her Goddess that she is going to have intercourse with Tor. And it horrifies her.

They never really grow to understand each other. The whole book kinda steps between them being so damn horny for one another, to being so damn mad over how the other person can possibly think they're right in their beliefs and values. Even as they go through big trials for each other, make huge sacrifices, I just never felt like there was... any spark of liking each other, at all. Only physical attraction, and maybe I'm just too asexual to be interested in a romantic plot that only hinges on two characters wanting to bang.

Things they do without growing closer: Freja convinces her people to not kill Tor when he's shot by one of their arrows (in battle when he's trying to kill them. Her Goddess told her to do it). Freja becomes ostracized from her own people for it, and is forced to tend to Tor's injuries alone. She goes to war against his people while he's forced to be a war prisoner and worry both about his family AND about this Sexy Woman he wants as she fights. she helps him escape and they travel together through the curse woods, meeting countless challenges across the way. Freja becomes cursed and balances between life and death and Tor has to find help from the dwarves, and he has to sit and wait while she almost dies.

I'd like to think that all of that SHOULD MEAN SOMETHING

I think they had sex three times, and only the first of those was actually consensual. The second time was straight up noncon and the third time was kind of a religious orgy and Freja's body was controlled by her Goddess.

At the end of the book Freja had a better relationship with Oden, who murdered her only parental figure in front of her eyes. She hated him even more than she hated Thor in the beginning, but they somehow managed to understand each other better than she did with her actual love interest.

They don't get together by the end of the book, so I guess it's not REALLY an Enemies-to-Lovers. But in the end, Freja leaves, pregnant with Tor's child. But I just spent the whole book waiting for something, ANYTHING to happen for them to grow even the slightest bit of an emotional bond. And I got nothing. And in the author's notes after the book, Hildebrandt talked about how natural it felt to make them lovers. But I just feel like it was the most unnatural love-situation possible!! And that's what I think made me extra peeved.

It's a shame, because the book, and the rest of the series, has some stuff I really love in fiction. It's a low fantasy that tries to be as historically accurate as possible. It has the main source of conflict being the unbalance in the world when one group of people decide they're better than other groups of people (men over women in this case). And it had Strong Female Characters. But I was just so annoyed with Freja. I was annoyed with Tor. I wished they'd grown more. They travelled through the dark cursed lands together, for god's sake! Freja sacrified everything for Tor! But in the end, only because her Goddess told her to. And it felt like none of it really mattered. But it could have.

[boymeetsweevil]

And then there were two

Grouping: Reader x College BF!Mark (NCT)

Word Count: ~3.48k

Warnings/Themes: non-graphic first time, too many friends with too little boundaries

Prompt: “what do u think abt college bf mark and awkward and fumbling first time”

The dorm is suspiciously quiet when Mark enters. There’s no sound of the XBox going, no sound of raucous laughter, no sound of beer bottles clinking. It’s almost as if you’re alone in your dorm. Odd.

“Mark?” You call from the common area shared by you and your suitemates. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

He finds you curled up on the couch, biting at your nails with your computer at your lap.

“Hey. Did you get your test results back yet?”

“I mean, the portal is open. I just haven’t checked it yet.” A sigh ghosts past your lips. “I don’t know if I passed this one. And if I don’t pass, I’ll have to retake the class later.”

“Want me to open it for you?”

“Please.”

Mark makes his way over, arms behind his back as he hides the treasure he brought with him. Once he’s seated you slide your laptop over to him like you can’t get it away fast enough and push yourself back until you’re at the opposite end of the couch. Your toes are the closest thing to him and you wedge them under his thigh while he types in your password from memory.

“Class average was a...64. Yikes,” he reads off that stats from the exam’s page.

“Yeah. It was a doozy.”

“Okay, let’s see. Woah, you got an 83.”

“What,” you shout.

“Nerd.”

Your eyes grow wide and you lunge forward to yank the computer away, hoping that he’s not messing with you. Mark laughs, nose scrunching at you as you take in the actual 83 on your exam’s results screen. The hoarse little shriek you let out is so cute that his heart aches a bit.

“The prof said she was adding a curve for this one. 6 points, she said.”

“Congrats, baby—oof!” 

Mark’s back hits the arm of the couch with a thud, taking the brunt of the force from your tackle. It’s a bit awkward but you still manage to get your limbs around him and squeeze. A breathy chuckle floats up from where you bury your face in his neck.

“I was so nervous. I hate Orgo so much.”

“I know, but you work so hard. How could you not do well?”

“Thanks,” you say once you pull back. Your eyes are velvet soft with relief and fondness as you look him over. 

You press a soft kiss to his lips and Mark presses back for a moment before pulling back with a jerk. Somehow you’ve ended up in the splayed V of his knees as a pleasant weight in his lap. Not an often occurrence.

“I, uh, I might have brought you something,” he mumbles against the skin of your cheek when you kiss the hinge of his jaw. His eyes and voice go gravelly and dark at your proximity.

“What is it?” You sit back on your heels with a staccato bounce. 

“Chicken Haus.”

From the side of the couch he brandishes a large paper bag with a familiar crowing chicken logo printed on the brown surface. The thin paper barrier does nothing to keep the smell from wafting over to you.

“Oh, did you get fries? Let me see!”

“Ah, ah!” He moves the bag out of your reach, causing you to stumble forward. Your glare down at him but all he does is cackle in response. “Say please,” he sing-songs.

“Dude, come on. This isn’t kindergarten!”

“So, I’m ‘dude’ now?” He sniffs and moves to put the chicken back. “Alright, I see how it is.”

“Mark—Mark, wait! Mark, my man. My super capable, handsome man. Please. Let me see the chicken.”

“Nice,” he hands you the bag, trying his hardest not to be flustered by your performance.

There’s a small mountain of your favorites in the bag and you do a little dance before hopping off the couch and making a beeline to the small communal kitchenette.

“Did you eat dinner already?”

“Yeah, I had some stuff at the studio.” 

You turn to give him a little disappointed pout. “Still, come sit with me!”

Mark ambles over with a pleased smile on his face. As you look for napkins he admires the straight way you hold your back. The university is notorious for its cutthroat biology major but you’re not the competitive type. So exam weeks are especially hard on you. You always end up stressed and shrunken in on yourself and Mark hates to see it. Few things cheer you back up right away. One of them is the atomic spicy nuggets from Chicken Haus.

“Should we eat in your room,” Mark asks. Your mutual friend Jungwoo, who introduced you and Mark, usually has virtual tutoring at this hour. Mark always feels bad for interrupting him, but normally you’d share some of your congratulatory nuggets with him.

“We don’t have to this time. Jungwoo went home for his mom’s graduation and Doyoung’s at a public health conference.”

“Oh. They didn’t tell me that.”

“Mark,” you let out an incredulous laugh when you finally open the box. “I think you got too many nuggets this time.”

Mark looks down at the party-sized box he handed over a hefty portion of this week’s paycheck for. He supposes it’s a lot for two people to eat, but the dorm is usually overflowing with friends. Tonight he bought a lot out of habit and none of the people he expected to be over are actually present.

“Shit. Are none of the guys coming over?”

“Mm, I don’t know. What’s Johnny up to?”

Mark wracks his brain for his friends’ whereabouts. “Uhh, I think I remember him saying he was gonna go visit his girlfriend at her school. So, I guess he’s not coming. 

“Okay,” you sit at one of the stools. “And Taeil and Haechan?”

“Probably, like, playing Fortnite or something.”

“I know Taeyong said he had some work he had to do for his design class, so he’s definitely not coming.” You bite down into a nugget finally and let out a soft moan. “This never gets old.”

Suddenly Mark is hungry again. When he grabs a napkin and a plate you give a gloating smirk.

“I think Yuta’s probably just asleep,” you say after you’ve finished moaning around another chicken nugget.

“That just leaves Jaehyun, I think.”

“I mean, I can text him and invite him over if you want me to.”

Before you can reach for your phone, Mark’s free hand covers yours. You can’t help but laugh a little. Jaehyun and Mark may be good friends, but you know Mark is still a little wary since Jaehyun tried to hit on you the first night you met everyone. There’s no hard feelings, though. According to Mark.

“N-no, you don’t have to. He’s probably just enjoying the night in. Let’s...leave him be.”

“Okay,” you grin and take another bite.

After you finish eating, you make the decision to migrate back to the couch to check out some of the stuff on your DVR. Doyoung has dominated most of the drive space but there’s some shows that you know Mark likes. You tape them on the off chance that he comes over and no one else has something else they want to watch instead.

“Should we watch that zombie series,” Mark asks as he scrolls through the listings.

“I hate their graphics.”

“I know,” he snorts. “But it’s funny how mad you get at their fake blood. Might be fun to watch.”

“If you really wanna watch you can, but I’m not looking. I’m just gonna make myself comfy here, instead.”

You say all this as you proceed to stretch yourself over Mark’s already lounging form. You slot yourself between his thighs before hitching a leg up over his hip. Your head is pillowed by his shoulder and you cage him in with your arms.

“We don’t have to watch it. It’s more fun to watch with Yuta anyway. He always screams so loud, like, I swear he has a 4 octave range sometimes.”

“You’re such a music major,” you wrinkle your nose before peeking up. “Can I hear that project you’ve been working on in the studio?”

Mark’s cheeks flush under the blue light cast by the TV screen. He doesn’t say anything at first, but he does nod. You get up just long enough for him to grab his phone and the pair of over-the-ear headphones he always carries with him.

He takes care to brush your hair out of the way and slip the headphones onto your head gently. He sneaks in a pinch of your cheeks while you wait for him to cue up the song and laughs at the way your eyes crinkle in light annoyance.

The song begins and he alternates between gnawing at his bottom lip and watching your expression unblinkingly. Mark is actually doing super well in his Music Production 401 class and his professor is trying to get him to do an independent study next term. But he’s a perfectionist when it comes to his music. The song’s not finished even though he and Taeyong have been working on it nonstop for the last week and a half.

After a few minutes, you slide the headphones off. 

“I like it,” you whisper. “I wish I could tell you something more helpful but I don’t know anything about making music.”

“No, no. Honestly, that’s enough. I feel like you always tell me when you don’t really like what we have, so this is—good.”

“What are you gonna call it?” You grab his free hand and Mark darts his head around to survey the room. 

“Tae wants to call it something like “welcome to my playground”. We have to run the name by the other guys in the project. But Professor Seo thinks we should put it online once it’s done.”

“Promise you won’t forget about me when you blow up on SoundCloud.”

Mark tosses his head back and laughs at your teasing, before reaching out for revenge. He grabs at your waist and pulls you down so he can dig his fingers into your sides, knowing exactly where to go so he can torture you.

You let out a gasp and try your hardest to protect your sensitive underarms and the sides of your ribs from him, but it’s too late. Frenzied laughs pour from your mouth and you fight to stay upright. It’s a fight that you lose but not without bringing Mark down with you.

The two of you topple over the edge of the couch in a heap of throw pillows and decorative blankets. You fall first and brace yourself for the impact of Mark’s body. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be and when you crack an eye open you realize it’s because he managed to prop himself up at the last second.

Mark laughs again, but this time it’s small and breathless as he takes in the sight of you underneath him. He yanks himself up so at least his upper half is upright and he looks around again.

“Why are you acting so suspicious? You’ve been acting like you have a dirty secret all night.” You sit up too then, pulling your knees to yourself.

“Ah, really? I dunno.”

But he does know. 

Mark is a man of many good traits. He’d like to think, based on what others have told him, that he’s reliable. Hardworking, nice. Maybe even a little handsome if he listens to his mom. But most of all he is incredibly patient.

The last 2 months that you have been dating have consisted of being cockblocked at every turn. And the same thing happened when he was trying to find a good moment to confess to you after realizing that he liked you. Because he and you shared too many friends. Well-meaning but stupid friends.

“I mean—like, I guess I just got so used to us being interrupted by the guys that it’s a habit. Sorry.”

“We’re alone now, though.”

“Ha, right,” he tugs on the collar of his hoodie. “Yeah.”

“So...do you still want to watch the DVR on the couch?”

“Uh, we don’t have to. We could do something else.”

“What do you want to do,” you ask as your fingers crawl up his torso. With a gentle press to his hoodie-clad chest, Mark‘s back hits the seat of the couch. 

“Wuh—we could listen to the new SuperK album.” 

You shake your head and slink into his lap. You fiddle with the zipper on the front of his hoodie, enjoying the way he fails to keep his cool in the moment.

He looks up at you then, eyes round. “We could... watch that movie Cloud Break. It’s supposed to be really romantic—”

You shake your head again and lean in. “Saw it ages ago,” you murmur against the skin of his neck.

He huffs out a laugh, partly because of the tickle from your lips planting light kisses on his throat and partly because your answer is ridiculous.

“It premiered in theaters two days ago, dude.”

“I have connections,” is all you say before switching to kisses on the corner of his mouth.

Rarely do moments like this ever arise. With your friend group, someone is always in your dorm, or in Mark’s, or texting one of you to let you know you’ll be interrupted soon. One too many traumatic occasions where he didn’t heed the warning taught Mark to be hypervigilant of how he interacted with you. 

Honestly, he’s not even sure what to do first now. You’ve already unzipped his hoodie to splay your palms over his chest. He’s certain you can feel the fluttering dance his heart is doing under your hands. His own palms itch with inactivity. But laying them on the bare skin of your waist under the fabric of your shirt feels a bit like a balm against his clammy skin.

It’s like a switch is flipped. Like you’ve both realized how long you’ve been waiting for this moment. Suddenly everything is wandering hands and soft gasps. Time behaves funny in the privacy of the little universe being created on the floor by the couch. First it’s the quick, rough pass of your shirt over your head, getting tangled along overeager elbows along the way. Then it’s the slow and gentle brush of Mark’s knuckles against the skin of your abdomen as he attempts to unbutton your pants with shaking hands. You ask him if he’s scared while thumbing at the plush swell of his lips which are pursed in concentration. He tells you he’s just excited with an equally-shaky chuckle.

That’s what you love about Mark. Probably one of the things everyone loves about Mark. He’s thorough, admirably so. Just like he took his time with his confession,!l and his time with your jeans, he takes time appraising every inch of exposed skin. Some moments are moments of familiarity and he nips at the skin like it’s an old greeting. Some moments are moments of discovery, for both of you. He’s gentler then, drawing a new version of you out from yourself in the form of drawn out gasps or curses.

Many are moments of reciprocity. There are times when you hope his touch leaves fingerprints behind, something that you can keep long after your sweat has dried. And every touch he gives is matched with one you return. The feel of your palm on him, over him, around him draws his muscles taut. When you finally slot together, of course it’s like two puzzle pieces. It’s just right and the breath Mark releases then is almost like a sigh of relief. 

Often relief is a quiet, calm thing. Not always, certainly not now. You and Mark chase this relief panting and sometimes clawing at one another. He’s jerky as he moves over you. With arms shaking on either side of his head and this jaw grit tight, he tries his best to make it to the end with you. The way you moan and lock your thighs around him to pull him closer and deeper are the things that push him off the edge. He spills into you with a choked off groan that tapers off when he pulls away finally.

He’s exhausted, but still attentive in his aftermath. Mark whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he beckons you closer to your own orgasm with his hand. The feeling of working over you through the slick of his cum awakens something in the corners of his mind, but he puts that back. For another day, he reasons. Another one of those rare days when he can get you alone. Next time he won’t hesitate.

“You feel good,” he nuzzles the tip of his nose by the base of your ear.

Your breath hitches wetly and you reach down to grip his still twisting wrist. The touch grounds you only slightly because he changes the angle and suddenly you’re floating towards white light once more. Mark watches your hips raise in little broken motions to reach your own high.

Immediately, you pull him back in. He’s confident in the way he follows this time. He swoops in over you, kissing you like the sex had merely whetted his appetite.

“Is there still chicken?”

The sound of Jungwoo’s voice drives you two apart so fast your joints crack. You shriek and pull the closest piece of clothing you can find over your lap and torso. It just so happens to be Mark’s sweatpants, leaving him defenseless and bare.

Jungwoo pokes his head out from behind his bedroom door, headphones hanging around his neck with music oozing softly from the ears. Whatever he sees must be appropriate enough, because he nods to himself then and strolls toward the kitchen. The leftover Chicken Haus sits neatly packaged away thanks to Mark’s previous care.

“Bro, what the hell,” Mark whines from behind the safety of the couch. Just his head peeks over the cushions, making him look tiny. Like a tiger cub woken prematurely. Jungwoo laughs.

“I thought you said you bought enough to share. There’s no way you guys were gonna finish all this on your own.”

“That’s not—” Mark sighs, “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“We’re kind of doing something here.” He jerks his chin down to where you’re hidden from view still. Neither of them can see your grimace. 

“Oh, yeah, we know.”

“We?” 

Your head and naked shoulders pop up then. Mark shifts his arm subtly in front you to preserve what’s left of your modesty. It doesn’t do much.

“Yeah, me and the others were in my room. We heard you did good on the test from our friend Lucas—you know the one who TAs for orgo? We were gonna surprise you, so we all got here early.”

“How early,” Mark’s voice is steady, eerily so. 

Jungwoo picks up another nugget and chews thoughtfully while he picks the right things to say. Johnny is the one who is known for being scary when angry, but Mark’s silent fury is frightening in its own right. A tiger cub is still a tiger, after all.

“Early,” he finally says.

“Fuck,” Mark covers his eyes with his hands. His cheeks bloom over rapidly. “Are you kidding me? Like for real?”

“Jungwoo,” Taeyong’s stage whisper cuts through the outburst. “Are they done yet?”

“You think he’s just standing out there talking to himself while they’re still doing it,” Doyoung’s voice enters next.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t stop to watch a little on the way back,” Yuta scoffs.

“Guys, stop, this is so weird. That’s Mark we’re talking about.” The sound of Johnny’s internal crisis is almost as loud as his distressed non-whisper.

Jungwoo snorts before piling a plate high with more chicken. “You sound like such a mom, John.”

“Hey, wait is there still chicken?” Taeil’s sleepy voice is followed by Haechan giving an affirmative.

The guys stream out of Jungwoo’s tiny suite like a swarm of ants making a line towards the kitchen. Some of them hop onto the counter while Doyoung distributes plates. Others grab up the remaining stools and continue to discuss Mark’s new lack of virginity while serving up fries and nuggets. None of them seem to be concerned about yours or Mark’s presence with their backs turned towards you.

As the others continue to bicker amongst themselves, you turn to Mark. With a knowing look, he gestures for you to pass him his sweats. In silence, you both dress yourselves before making a break to your room. You enter first, diving head first into your bed out of mortification. Mark makes sure to close the door as soundlessly as possible before turning to you.

“We need new friends,” the two of you say in unison.

[brandstifter-sys]

Since I missed Remus’ birthday x_x please take this dukexiety mess as an apology

Dead?

Word Count: 1944

Pairings: Dukexiety (background royaliceit)

Rating: T

Warnings: death mention, intersex enby remus, sex mention, frog mention, spider mention, sibling rivalry

Virgil is just an ordinary necromancer with friends in high places. He goes off exploring on a quest to find a white stag and finds something, well someone, who looks like they’re sleeping in the middle of a tomb that’s been sealed off for a century. It’s one heck of a shock to accidentally raise the dead, if that’s the case, and even more of a shock because Remus is....themself.

Reblogs > Likes 

There were legends and stories that circulated the kingdom, all of them fantastical and hard to believe. Most of the time there was some sort of inaccuracy in the legend, like the story of the princess cursed to sleep for a hundred years with her whole kingdom, only to be woken by true love’s kiss. She woke up after a hundred years and went ballistic, screaming at her father for not inviting the thirteenth fairy to her first birthday party, but that was ages ago, and like her parents, she angered the fae as well. Her two children were hit with a similar curse, but unlike her, her children would sleep for eternity until their true loves came. She never told them.

The legend got marred over time, so that people only remembered one of the children. No one believed that legend until recently, when Prince Janus, recently married to the man who he saved from his own curse, found the old tower and investigated. He found Prince Roman and woke him, not giving details on how he did it. It was fine because Janus and his husband, Patton, were madly in love and madly in love with Roman. Too bad Roman didn’t mention that he wasn’t the only one cursed in that tower. 

...

It was a rather overcast day when Prince Patton suggested his oldest friend go investigate reports of a white stag in the forest. If change was afoot, Virgil would be the first to tell if it was a blessing or a curse. Virgil reluctantly agreed, if only because Patton made puppy-dog eyes at him. Those puppy-dog eyes were going to kill him someday, and he was the only person he couldn’t resurrect. The things he did for his friends.

That’s what led him deep into the woods, beyond where most people dared to tread. He hated the looming feeling of foreboding nipping at his heels, the way the wind whispered his name. But he kept going, always glancing back, and always moving on when there was no threat. He only considered turning back when he found the tower where Roman was sleeping before. There was no reason to go beyond the boundary of the kingdom, especially with a crumbling ruin in the way. 

The door was still open, hanging on its hinges, just as Janus left it. Virgil neared it, just to see what level of stupid Janus reached when he found the tower. But something caught his eye. There was a trap door at the foot of the spiral stairs. Something about it called to the nervous necromancer, and he couldn’t fight the urge to investigate. 

Virgil coughed when he opened the door and a cloud of dust hit him in the face. Covering his nose with his cloak, he descended the stairway he revealed, using the magic gem on his walking staff to light his way. 

The walls were lined with bones, artfully placed to scare the average person away. Virgil worked with death, it was more of a comfort to be surrounded by it, even if he accidentally reanimated a few bodies when he was startled. If this detour didn’t reveal something new and useful, it would still be fun to tell Prince Roman that he was asleep over a tomb for however long he was there. He would probably cringe at that information.

Something was certainly there, a door that looked ancient with dark hinges and an even darker stain. It radiated magic, making Virgil’s hair stand on end. He could handle a few zombies if he had to, so he flipped his bangs out of his face and pressed forward.

He opened the heavy door with some effort and stepped inside. The room was simple stone with old green tapestries and a stone slab in the center. The green curtains around it were drawn, displaying a body that showed no signs of decay. The person looked like Roman, but they had a mustache and longer hair. Virgil stared at them, wondering what kind of magic kept a dead person so well-preserved. They had to be dead, Roman was trapped for over a century, sure, but he had some kind of air flow at the top of the tower. This person, they didn’t, and they weren’t breathing or twitching like a normal sleeping person. Virgil was confused.

BAM!

“Holy shit!” Virgil yelped and spun around when the door slammed shut. He hastily tried to open it and breathed a sigh of relief when it moved.

“Ack! What the hell!?” a voice yelped from behind him. Virgil’s heart stopped. Not again. He turned around to see the person, sitting upright, glancing around the room. Their eyes landed on Virgil, and a smile crossed their confused features.

“Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where we are, would you?” they asked with way too much enthusiasm.

“We’re in a crypt under a cursed tower,” Virgil answered slowly, gripping his staff tightly, “and I accidentally disturbed your resting place.”

“I was dead!?” they gawked, “And I don’t have any maggots to show for it!?” 

“Yeah I thought that was weird too. But it’s probably been over a hundred years for you so I’m gonna go ahead and put you down again.”

“Aw, do you have to? You’re the first person to talk to me since my brother before he got cursed! And he yelled at me for putting a frog in his shirt! Can I stay undead just a little while?” they pleaded and fluttered their lashes. Virgil blinked twice as their words hit him.

“Who are you?”

“Me? Well I’m Princex Remus! Second in line for the throne! Who are you?” 

“I’m Virgil, a necromancer, but you probably figured that out already. You said your brother was cursed.”

“Oh yeah, him,” Remus pouted, “He turned 18 and then he went into a major coma. Mom said it was her fault and we had to keep him safe. Let’s not talk about him, I’d rather know about you, VeeVee.” 

“I hate that nickname,” Virgil deadpanned.

"Virgilicious?" 

"I'm not responding to that."

“Scare Bear?”

“Sure,” Virgil huffed, expecting the list to go on if he didn’t stop it there and then. 

“Okay, Scare Bear! So what is a snack like you doing in a place like this?”

“I was on a mission for the three princes–Patton, Janus, and Roman–and then I stumbled across this place and got curious.”

“Roman!? He woke up!? Okay you gotta take me to him right now! I’ll come back and stay dead but I gotta see him! I owe him a century’s worth of ramblings!” 

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Nope! He got cursed and passed out and wouldn’t get up until his true love woke him! I set him in the tower and came down here to relax with the decomposed after that workout!”

“And then?”

“That’s the last thing I remember! That guy had some nerve getting cursed at the bottom of the stairs, I might be strong and nimble but mommy’s favorite is as heavy as he is whiny!”

“Shit," Virgil grumbled as he tried to put the pieces together, "Let me try something." Remus watched him expectantly. The gem in his staff glowed a bright purple, as did his eyes. Remus couldn't understand the words slipping from his lips but that double voice was doing something for them. He was trying to put Remus back. It wasn’t working!

“That was cool! Can you magic me a pair of big ol honkers?” Remus cheered and clapped their hands. Virgil’s shoulders sagged and his face fell, his eyes losing the purple glow.

“I’m a necromancer, I can only raise the dead.”

“And my dick!” 

“Right, yeah, okay, point is you’re not dead, you were asleep for a century.” 

“Just like Ro-hoe?! Then that means—”

“Oh no,” Virgil groaned. He did not sign up for this. He was too aro for this. Remus was cute and hyper but he wasn’t sure how they’d handle a full on rejection. It could get ugly.

“Oh yes!” Remus giggled, “It was the same curse, you woke me up, you’re my true love! This calls for a celebration! No one should love me so it’s a huge deal!”

“Wait, what?”

“We should definitely make out!”

“You have near-death breath, and more self-hatred issues than me. I'll pass."

"Self-hatred issues? Me!? No! I just don't do that romance shit and I was born in between! That's why I didn't think I would be cursed like Prince No-Bone! But I was and you woke me! We’re gonna be bestest friends! With benefits!”

“I know Roman, if you’re like him, there’s no benefits whatsoever.”

“Ha! I like you! We’re gonna be besties! Let’s go so I can show off that I got a hot soulmate and make Ro jealous!” Remus cheered and jumped to their feet full of life and running on sibling spite. 

“Don’t. Just tell him I raised your corpse. He’ll shit himself," Virgil countered and leaned on his staff with a dastardly smirk. Remus had never had someone come up with something else to torment the precious firstborn. It was too good to be true.

“I’m starting to think I did die and went to heaven,” Remus mumbled. Virgil shook his head and stood up. 

"Sorry to disappoint but if I'm here it's hell." 

"You are selling me on this whole soulmate business! C'mon let's go get some embalming fluid and really sell it! And some frogs! Ooh maybe there’ll be some mama frogs out there with their eggs in their backs! Trypophobia and even more frogs! Roman’ll shit a brick."

“The frogs aren’t gonna cut it this time. He’s got two husbands, and one of them was a frog for most of his life.”

“No frogs?” Remus pouted. 

“If you can give up the green, salamanders would work,” Virgil shrugged and pushed the door open with just as much effort as when he opened it. He didn’t catch the bright grin that crossed Remus’ face, but the body slam to his back when he got that damn door open, he didn’t miss that!

“You’re right! Or maybe I could use worms! Or spiders!”

“Just don’t touch mine. Gigi just finished molting,” Virgil grunted and balanced himself.

“You have spiders! Ooh! You have to show me! Spiders are so cute!”

“Don’t eat them.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, that would be awful!” they laughed, then purred “But if you wanna give me something better to eat---” Virgil jolted and stumbled back when the frisky little whirlwind grabbed his butt.

“Give me a good enough reason once we’re out of here, and I’ll consider it,” he huffed and led Remus to the stairway.

“Really?”

“Yeah, if you can convince me. But don’t hold your breath.”

“You know if I die and you want some action all you have to do is bring me back! You look like you’d enjoy some zombie fun, and I’m just a rotten kind of cute when I don’t get startled awake!”

“Don’t you have some sibling scheming to do?”

“Yeah, and I have to get back to arting and training and pranks and making people uncomfortable with my existence, that last one is my specialty!”

“Then let’s go. You need to get started on all those things soon.”

“I’m not making you uncomfortable?”

“I know, I’m just as surprised as you are. Maybe it is that soulmate bs,” he teased and led Remus into the world again. Maybe the soulmate thing wasn’t bs, and maybe it was the best day of either of their lives, they just hadn’t realized it yet.

[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.”

[anna-justice]

Lost or Found - 11

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

11 - The Waiting ...

After a long night of waiting and then being forced to go home, Adam was seated beside Kim’s bed while she lay there still unconscious. He was beyond anxious, she hadn’t woken up since they found the girls and with the potential loss of her hearing looming over them, waiting was getting worse by the second. The steady beeping of her monitor was the only noise piercing the silence. Her mom had gone home to shower and talk to her dad, so it was just Adam in the room.

His almost fist fight with Jay the night before was still very prominent in his mind. Jay’s words stung, but he was right, all of this was Adam’s fault. If he had ended things like he was told to, he would be heartbroken, but Kim would be fine or at least not laying in a hospital bed. He had acted selfishly and it almost got two people he cared about killed, there was no room for mistakes in the sick, twisted game they were playing.

He leaned against the bed and put his face in his hand. She looked peaceful, the most at rest that she had been in weeks understandably. He reached out and wrapped his hand around her limp on, gently brushing his thumb over the top of it. He knew that in the movies this was the part where the mourning love interest makes a heartfelt speech professing his love for the other, but he didn’t have anything to say other than “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, Kim stirred and her eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light. She looked around the room and Adam stood immediately. “Hey, I’m here.” She smiled softly to acknowledge him, reaching to pull her oxygen out of her nose. “Oh, no, I think--”

“Take this off…”

“Let me help you.” He helped her pull off and leaned forward. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How’re you feeling?” He asked. He smiled big, she was responding so obviously able to hear him.

Kim’s face fell and she stuttered a bit. “I feel like a-like-like a puppet who someone else is making talk.” Adam reached out and brushed a stray hair that had fallen off of her face, “How long was I out?” She groaned.

“Well, they sedated you last night to help with the swelling in your brain. You remember what happened?” He asked.

“What? What happened?” Adam stiffened and reached out to touch her cheek, his heart beating faster. “What year is it? Who is the president? What’s the internet?”

Adam fake laughed and gave her a pointed look, “You are very funny. I’m not,” He swallowed, “Strong enough to be messed with right now.”

“Hey,” She said, grabbing his arm. “You were worried about me?”

Adam looked at the ground and scoffed, “You have no idea.”

“It’s okay.”

He shrugged, “I love you, you know?”

Kim grinned and nodded, he had said it before, but this time it felt so different. “I love you too.”

Adam stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pressing another against her lips. He sat down the bed next to her and took her hand in his, and as if on cue, her doctor entered.

…

A few rooms away on the same floor, Jay sat next to Trudy in Hailey’s hospital room. Like Kim a short time ago, she was still asleep after spending the majority of the night in surgery.

Jay had gone home against his will at about one the night before, Trudy insisted he needed sleep and a shower. He had only accomplished one of the two. He spent all of his short time away thinking about her, whether it was the situation with her dad or what had happened to her and Kim, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

Fear had begun to consume him and he wasn’t a huge fan. The situation felt all too familiar, he could feel her slipping away just like Erin did.

He glanced up to see Adam in the doorway, “Hey man, Kim’s awake.” He said and Jay looked at Hailey one last time before following Adam down the hall. When they reached the room, Kim was watching the news with a bored look on her face.

“Hey,” Jay said, “How’re you feeling?”

Kim gave him a soft smile as he crossed to her, “I’m okay, bit of a headache. But, I’m fine.” Jay nodded, eyes focused on the floor. “How’s Hailey?”

Jay shrugged, “Still asleep.”

Silence fell between them, Adam spoke up to break it. “So, now that we are free of the prying doctors...can you tell us what happened?”

Kim nodded while the two boys sat in the seats beside her bed. “We were going to get ice cream since Hailey was so upset.” Kim froze when she realized what she had said, Jay grimaced. “Anyway, the last thing that I remember is leaving the house and then I woke up on the floor of the garage. Hailey was still out when I woke up, so I tried to get her to wake up and I kept trying to open the door of my car, but it was locked. Then I remember Hailey hitting the window with a tennis racket, then I’m pretty sure I vomited. After that, I don’t remember anything.”

Adam nodded, “Okay, we need a fake story, to tell the police. They are bound to come by soon right?”

“Yeah…” Jay said, he was only half paying attention to them. He was trying to piece everything together, if Hailey had been trying to break the window then how did she end up all the way on the opposite side of the garage? How long did she lay there before they got there? What was she trying to do? His mind was racing.

“So, we tell them that I accidentally locked my keys in my car and when I tried to get something to open it, the door fell and we couldn’t lift it up. Skip all the middle stuff, and we both woke up here?” Kim suggests.

Adam agrees, “I think that it’s the only way we can spin this, I mean it’s going to make the two of you sound like idiots…”

“I know.” Kim grumbles.

“I’m glad we’re all on the same page, I think I’m going to head back.” Jay says, standing. He doesn’t wait for a response before he walks out of the room.

Part of him is so angry, he’s been trying to convince himself that it wasn’t Adam’s fault for hours but it’s not working. And, it seemed so unfair that Kim was fine and Hailey wasn’t when Kim was the intended target. Unless Kim wasn’t the intended target, he had no idea. Nothing made sense and the one person that could help him was still not responsive.

Not long after he returned to his perch by Hailey’s bed, Trudy announced that she was going to go update her husband and grab them lunch. Jay muttered a thank you before she left. Trudy left the hospital feeling uneasy, she hated watching the young man be in pain but it was comforting to know that Hailey had someone like him in her corner.

Jay sat back in his chair at the foot of Hailey’s bed, he pulled out his phone, deciding that he could find something to do to pass the time before he could look into those beautiful blue eyes again.

“Ohmigod.” Someone said, and Jay’s head snapped up. There was a petite, blonde woman standing in the doorway. She glanced over at him, her eyes widening. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Jay stood cautiously, “You’re fine.” He smiled nervously, his hand scratching the back of his neck. Jay looked at the woman with a cocked eyebrow, attempting to get her to introduce herself.

She must have gotten the memo because she stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “I’m Anne, Upton. Hailey’s mom.”

Jay immediately noticed the resemblance, feeling stupid for not thinking that before. “Jay.” He said, shaking her hand.

“Are you her boyfriend?” She asked, glancing between him and her daughter.

Jay blushed. He wished. “No, just a good friend.” Anne nodded, but he was pretty sure that she didn’t believe him.

Anne took Hailey’s hand in hers and Jay took a few steps back, considering leaving the room all together, but he couldn’t convince himself to walk out. “Do you know what happened? Trudy was very vague on the phone…” She trailed off, looking at him with glassy eyes.

“Uh, we had all made plans to hang out, so Adam and I--Adam is one of our friends--picked up Kevin and headed to Kim’s. Um, Hailey was at Kim’s house, she’s Adam’s girlfriend. Anyway…” Jay cursed himself for stuttering so much. This should not be so difficult. “Kim woke up a few hours ago and she told us that she accidentally locked her keys in her car and when they were looking for something to open the door, the garage door fell off it’s hinge.” Jay sighed, having successfully told their made up story. “Adam and I pried the door open when we got there and found him passed out on the floor, Kim said that Hailey tried to break the window with a tennis racket.”

Anne smiled softly, proud of her daughter for doing her best in a bad situation. “Kim, the other girl, is she alright?”

Jay nodded, “She’s fine.”

“Good,” Anne swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Thank you for being here with her.”

“Of course.” Jay gave her a reassuring smile, but he didn’t know if it was for her sanity or his.

Anne wiped a tear from under her eye. “Do they know when she’s going to wake up?”

“They said it would be at some point today…” Jay said, shrugging. He took a moment to take her in. He realized that this wasn’t the first time that her mother had stood over her uncious body in a hospital and it made his blood boil. Hailey didn’t deserve any of this, and her mom seemed so kind. It took him a bit before he noticed that he was intently checking Anne’s exposed skin for any signs of harm. When he found one his breath caught in his throat, there was a dark bruise poking out from under her short sleeve blouse and it was a scary reminder that Hailey’s past situation was all too real.

A few minutes of silence pass before Anne speaks up again, “Is she happy here?”

Jay thinks about it for a second. He really hoped she was. Even in the middle of the shitshow they were living, they had all managed to find ways to laugh and have fun, ways to just be tennagers for a little while. “I think so.” He said, a lopsided grin on his face. “I know that he makes the rest of us really happy.” Jay wanted to add an “especially me” to the end, but he figured the last person he should send mixed signals to is her mother.

Before Anne could respond another person walked into the room. “Sorry I took so long, I had to find parking and then figure out what room she was in…” The man looked up and gave Jay a questioning look. He looked at Anne, “Who’s this?”

Anne smiled, “Honey this is Jay, he’s a friend of Hailey’s.”

The man gave Jay a megawatt smile and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you son, I’m Eldon, Hailey’s father.”

…

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry my updates have been so sporadic! Classes just started and I am drowning in organic chem homework. I hope you enjoyed the nugget from season 2 that I snuck into this chapter, it seemed fitting. Thanks for reading!

@lissethsrojas @fuckyeahkillianemma @puckluck28 @chilly7188 @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman

[felixnation]

THE TOP 10 WORST KPOP SONGS OF 2020

(WARNING: I DON’T LIKE THESE SONGS AND WILL BE MEAN AT THEM. I DO NOT HAVE ANY PERSONAL BEEF WITH ANY OF THESE GROUPS OR ARTISTS SO DON’T COME FOR ME IF YOUR FAVE MADE A STINKER TRACK THIS YEAR.)

Ah, 2020. The year where disco came back, the 80s came back, and everyone was titling their songs after nonsense words. It was a good year for k-pop overall, with a lot of new trends entering the game towards the end of summer. However, there were some real clunkers that refused to get out of my head this quarantine and pissed me off to varying degrees each time I heard them. This list is an attempt to chronicle all of those.

So without further ado, let’s get this shit done.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

NCT 127 - PUNCH This isn't actually a bad song, hence it only making it to the honorable mentions section. In fact, I think this could've easily made the best list had it not been for one thing, and that's the presence of NCT 127, namely their rap line. The instrumental on this thing is absolutely killer and one of the best productions to come out of SM in a long time. The entire thing is bizarrely structured and incredibly gutsy, and therefore I think it's a travesty that an instrumental this incredible was drowned in ASMR-esque whispers and EYYYY WE BALLINs. There are a few salvageable sections, namely the first post-chorus, and we see glimmers of NCT 127's true potential, should they choose to explore this sound further.

CIGNATURE - NUN NU NAN NA Similar to Punch, I admire the production choices here - there are a few sections that blast you with 100gecs-esque womps, and that's always something I enjoy. The vast majority of the song rarely dips below decent territory, but since the entire thing hinges on the titular hook, it ends up falling apart right when it needs to bring the hype the most. I mean, building a hook around those notes was...an interesting choice, I guess. It reminds me a lot of fromis_9's FUN!, which also constructed the entire song around a terrible set of notes. Listen to them yell that hook at you and tell me it doesn't sound off. Most frustrating song of 2020.

ONG SEONG WU - GRAVITY Have you ever heard a drop this weak? I sure haven't. I hate the way he says DIVING INTO YOUR LOVE, the over-enunciation kills me and there's one syllable too many. Also, thanks Ong Seong Wu for giving CRAVITY the promo they deserve.

BTS - FLY TO MY ROOM I can't relax while listening to this, the beat is so sparse and has this nauseous sway to it that really makes me feel like I'm reliving these past 9 months of quarantine all over again. And just like quarantine, it really feels like this goddamn thing never ends. That final set of choruses is really a chore to get through, and I'm not the only one who thinks so - shout out to Taehyung for serving taste and I'm sorry Jimin convinced you to sing out of your natural range yet again.

TREASURE - MMM Ew.

I*ZONE - FIESTA It's a pretty standard girl group song up until that chorus hits and oh my god, who on earth produced this? Are they actively trying to trigger my psychosis? There are so many sounds happening that it feels like three or four demo tracks laid on top of each other, it makes me confused even trying to figure out what's going on here. And that post-chorus drop is horrendous, it's like the instrumental is literally screaming into my ear STREAM BLOOM*IZ!!! STREAM BLOOM*IZ YOU DUMB CUCK!!! YOU LOVE IT!!!

NOW FOR THE REAL LIST.

#10: TAEYEON - HAPPY

I do not like this. Taeyeon has one of the most powerful voices in the industry and instead of putting it to good use, she decided to put out the musical equivalent of eating a stick of butter. Bland, horrible texture, seems to go on forever and ever, you know you shouldn't be consuming it and you don't know why you're doing this to yourself, etc.

The MV contributed to my dislike, with Taeyeon whitewashed all the way into uncanny valley as she lounges around her beautiful apartment. Well of course you'd be happy if you lived in a place like that, I know I would. The sad thing is that there's some really nice vocal work here and there, but for the majority of the song, Taeyeon decides to serenade us in the most nasal tone that she can muster. I know she can sing better than this, and I'm disappointed in her for creating this and unleashing it on the world.

#9: WEKI MEKI - OOPSY

Whereas Picky Picky was annoying in the best way possible, Oopsy is annoying in the worst way possible. The instrumental legitimately sounds cheap, the drums sound so tinny and artificial that it's hard on the ears. Not to mention the hook, wherein the girls force their voices as high as they can go as they proclaim OOPSY! 

I'm a huge fan of cute concepts, but when it comes to putting out a high-energy sugary track like this, you're walking a fine line between adorable and irritating. Weki Meki didn't even try to walk the line, they just dove headfirst into irritating territory without a care in the world. It literally feels like the audio equivalent of having to hold a whiny toddler and then it pisses itself and the mom is just cooing about how her little darling made an oopsy.

#8: VICTON - MAYDAY

It feels like for most of the year, the vast majority of boy groups were stuck in a rut, knee-deep in sludgy EDM and leather harnesses. You know the songs I'm talking about, and I could've put any one of them here, but I chose this one purely because that chorus makes me feel like I have a concussion. I don't like this song nor the trend it's representative of - I spent most of quarantine having the same dark BG concepts thrown at me over and over and I'm glad things are starting to take a bit of a turn.

The bridge on this is actually pretty great, and the guys in VICTON do know how to sing, as can be seen in the final post-chorus. But man, there's just nothing fresh being brought to the table here, just the same stale trends in their worst form yet. The hook is so slow and drowsy, the same few notes just repeated over and over. I have not seen the MV because I feel like I can picture it well enough in my head just by listening. Are there harnesses? Don't forget those, boys.

#7: MCND - SPRING

Only Pentagon are allowed to do these concepts.

#6: HYO, LOOPY, SOYEON - DESSERT

This is genuinely unlistenable as soon as the drop hits, with a vocal stitching job that might be a horn synth, I'm not sure. That's how annoying it is. The producer is clearly incompetent and the performers are oozing with personality, though not the pleasant sort. The hook is  bratty and the raps here are beyond generic. After the halfway point, there are a couple interesting sounds thrown into the mix, but it's not enough to save things.   

Soyeon in particular sounds awful here, with her iconic nasally tone morphing into something genuinely irritating and borderline spiteful. Age up the toddler from the Oopsy comparison to around 7 or 8 and that's basically what you've got here. All I can hope is that this song is not influential in any way, shape or form, because I just had a vision of Blackpink imitating this production style and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

#5: SECRET NUMBER - WHO DIS?

I'm not sure how many Secret Number fans are out there, but I'm about to make all of em real mad at me right about now. However, it must be said.

This is basically Your Turn by Kaachi again.

I don't think I need to explain that hot take, just listen to the song. It's surprisingly amateurish, to the point where I feel like the vocals aren't in sync and they just used the first take they got from each girl. The raps in particular are awful, and I swear they even sound like they go off-key a couple of times. How this blew up in any aspect is bizarre to me. Anyways, stream Photo Magic and stan Kaachi.

#4: BAEKHYUN - CANDY

Did you want a k-pop version of Yummy by Justin Bieber? No? Well, Baekhyun decided to make it anyways! At least Yummy was sort of funny in how bad it is, this is just...a somber affair. Inexplicably, he manages to oversing the final third of the song, which I don't get the point of, but okay. Lazy, underproduced and overproduced at the same time, bland, boring, annoying...

Wait, did he just say...

Okay, I changed my mind, this is hysterical. Like Pop rocks, strawberry, bubble gum...

#3: (G)-IDLE - DUMDI DUMDI

I'm so sick of this group's 'ethnic' schtick, it's like they never learn. They just don't give a fuck - after a string of genuinely great tracks like Hann, Lion, and Oh My God, they just decide to put out this shit and expect me to listen to it? They're a group with a lot of potential, with some brilliant vocalists and the talent that is Soyeon (who really loves being on this list, apparently) but if they continue down the path of using different cultures as concepts I can't support them any further.

The song itself has salvageable parts, a recurring theme on this list, but the over-the-top tribal influences are so obvious and tropey that even listening to it feels gross. (G)-Idle have more creative control than most groups, and the fact that they're capable of creating works of art like Lion is what makes me harsh on them. Instead of moving forward, they continue to regress into their comfort zone of cultural appropriation.

#2 YOOA - BON VOYAGE

Speaking of cultural appropriation...are we gonna address this? Nah? Okay.

Oh My Girl, YooA's parent group, has a history of blatant cultural appropriation (and arguably some legit racist moments depending on how you look at it) and they seem like they're not changing anytime soon. That's why this particular song stings even more than it probably should. If you thought Dumdi Dumdi's tribal influences were a little too on the nose, take a listen to this chorus.

YooA has a bad voice, is wearing tribal face paint, and is running around the wilderness whitewashed into oblivion while a choir of nameless voices chant vaguely tribal things behind her. Even in an industry like k-pop, this sticks out as something in bafflingly poor taste, and I can't see how she got away with this in 2020.

#1 BLACKPINK & SELENA GOMEZ - ICE CREAM

Well, this is a predictable pick. 

I don't know why or how Blackpink thought they could get away with drip-feeding blinks content for 4 goddamn years in the lead-up to their first album, only to drop this big fat clunker on them. I honestly felt insulted by the song, from its cheap, tinny production to the god-awful lyrics. I don't know how anyone could find any value in a piece of music this soulless and hollow.

Lisa's raps are by far the worst part of it, with FIRE BARS such as "you're the one been chosen, play the part like moses" and "mona lisa kinda lisa". Unfortunately, these raps take up a good portion of the song, and there's nothing going on in the instrumental to distract you from them, save for that little ice cream truck jingle. (or at least I think that's what the producer was going for)

Selena is a non-presence and essentially blends in with the girls, who WAIL that awful hook like their lives depend on it. Also, there's some really cheesy innuendos here that're sung with all the sex appeal of the actual ice cream truck driver from literally your neighborhood. 

I loathe what this song represents - the only good thing about it is that the girls look stunning in the MV. And that's exactly the thing - this song represents the exact moment in time wherein Blackpink admitted to their audience that music is no longer their main focus. This is the peak of their influencer-ization, and only time will tell if they'll redeem themselves. (Spoiler: They sort of did, goddammit.)

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 105: Know Your Fusion

“Cuz everybody loves a callback.”

While praising Kindergarten Kid, I talked about the subjectivity of humor, and here we have the downside. This isn’t a bad episode of Steven Universe, but it doesn’t matches my sensibilities, which matters quite a bit when comedy is its major selling point. Meta humor is tricky, and for me, Know Your Fusion pushes just a smidge too hard at that fourth wall.

I’m not against meta humor in principle: going off the discussion of Looney Tunes from Kindergarten Kid, no appraisal of Daffy Duck is complete without Duck Amuck, an uproarious deconstruction of animation. Steven Universe is no stranger to self-commentary, from Crying Breakfast Friends to Peridot’s teen drama fandom to Ronaldo’s whole shtick. Hell, we even have Say Uncle, a non-canon episode with similar energy to Know Your Fusion that I mostly enjoy!

But I’m not into this canon iteration of the joke. I don’t think Sardonyx switching from a theatrical egotist bound to her native dimension to someone who knows she’s in a cartoon feels natural, and I’m not compelled by talk show or game show parodies. I’m thrilled for anyone who does enjoy this type of thing, because it’s not as if the joke is executed poorly, it’s just not the kind of joke that I’m looking for in Steven Universe.

Part of the problem is pacing, which I’m happy to criticize independently from my personal mismatch with the humor: considering Sardonyx’s goal is to find out what makes Smoky Quartz unique, it’s absurd to have them try to recreate the abilities of other fusions. It gives us decent setpieces (and Aivi and Surasshu give us glorious recreations of the music that accompanies Opal, Sugilite, and Alexandrite) but the whole thing feels forced. There isn’t a moment where it isn’t obvious that these scenes aren’t going anywhere, so instead of progressing the plot it’s as if we’re just stalling for the eventual reveal that Smoky’s specialty is humor.

It’s a shame, because the episode starts strong: Steven and Amethyst are adorable rehearsing their reveal, and the presentation itself is amplified by Pearl going full mom mode and Garnet correctly answering that it was Peridot that beat Jasper. The older Gems aren’t quite patronizing, but there’s a sense of bemusement that translates well to Sardonyx’s more extreme attitude, in the same way Steven and Amethyst’s nerves translate to Smoky’s awkwardness. All the pieces are in place, but then the episode takes another eight minutes or so to continue hammering in the point that Sardonyx is a steamroller and Smoky doesn’t feel like they measure up.

None of this is to criticize Natasha Lyonne or Alexia Khadime, two guest stars who carry the bulk of Know Your Fusion by themselves. Lyonne seamlessly shifts from quippy to embarrassed now that Smoky is in a social situation that can’t be solved with yoyo, and Khadime fleshes out Sardonyx’s loud first impression with quiet sass and condescension becoming of such a diva. This is the longest amount of time we’ve spent with "guest fusions” (so not Garnet, who’s a lead, or Stevonnie, who I’d consider recurring), and it’s cool to see all four main Crystal Gems condensed into a duo.

It’s less obvious than Cry for Help, but this is the second Sardonyx episode that acts as a sort of sequel to Coach Steven. We get an aside about whether Nicki Minaj gets paid for archived audio (which is the only fourth wall joke I really loved here) and a Strong in the Real Way reference, but we also get a similar message: that fusion might be great, but it amplifies the bad as well as the good. Sugilite is awesome because she’s Garnet’s power and Amethyst’s vim, but the recklessness of both Gems doubles up as well. Sardonyx also has Garnet’s power, now with Pearl’s precision, but Garnet is a leader, Pearl is a control freak, and both can be insensitive when their minds are set, so Sardonyx is a big scene. And Smoky Quartz, whose existence sprung from Steven and Amethyst commiserating over their status as “the worst Gems,” is now shown to have their own issues with self-esteem. Relationships are important, but they don’t fix all your problems, especially if those problems are shared among all members of the relationship. It’s telling that the resolution comes only after everybody’s back to normal.

I feel that the conclusion takes too long to arrive, but when it does, it’s almost worth the wait: I think it’s clever as hell to wrap up a meta humor episode with a metaphysical action sequence, considering the existence of Sardonyx’s room hinges on an ephemeral being’s existence and every thing falls apart when this person stops being one person and is instead two people (but is actually three people, because one of them is also two people). This is the perfect episode to put this trippy scene, as we go from contemplating the nature of this show to the nature of its characters. It has a similar feel to Steven reaching the roof of the gauntlet construct in The Test, but trades the emotions for hi-jinks befitting the tone of Know Your Fusion.

And while the fourth wall jokes aren’t for me, it’s not the only comedy to be found here. Estelle’s extended shout of delight at Smoky’s arrival is amazing, and my unhealthy appetite for puns was sated by the abundance of wordplay. I don’t hate this episode, I’m just not the right audience. But don’t worry, I’m sure Sardonyx could make a better audience if that bums her out.

(There’s really not much to write about for this one, huh? Sorry for the self-commentary in a review about how I’m not into this episode’s self-commentary. We’ll be back to normal review length when we return to episodes I find more interesting, which is very soon.)

I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?

I wonder if this episode was ever gonna be called Self Study? The actual title is in there, just smaller, but it makes you wonder. I also love that Peridot is by herself while the less fusion-phobic characters are grouped; I’m sure she’s grown past this phase by now, but again, everybody loves a callback.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Episodes like this are why my “Enh” rating exists. But as a reminder, because this is the first episode that hasn’t at least made “Like ‘em” since Gem Drill, this is a personal list, not what I think the definitive ranking should be.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

When It Rains

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

No Thanks!

     5. Horror Club      4. Fusion Cuisine      3. House Guest      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure