#(im actually entertained but also a little bit pissed off with her)

[willkimurashat]

Oh, you wanna get my li, Uma? May thy knife chip and shatter babes, may thy knife chip and shatter💅

[nutal]

URGH NEW GUITARSPEAR (multichaptered ???) fic idea hear me out IM GONNA YAP SO MUCH also for convenience sake, Eve isn’t existing in this universe LMAO also warnings for like abuse n shit

But like it’s a human/modern au and Adam’s with Lilith, and they’ve been married for a while now. Lilith’s always been a little manipulative, but now she’s gotten subtly abusive almost, very demanding and Adam suspects she’s cheating too. One night she straight up just kicks him out of the house for that night saying he can find his own place to sleep because she’s not willing to share a bed with him nor even let him on the couch after a heated argument. He resists heavily, but only gets way too much slack for it there’s no way he can stay with that psychotic bitch admittedly.

He’s obviously really pissed the fuck off, but he ends up walking out late near the suburbs, ending at a nearby park. When he’s there, he finds Lute!! And she’s also alone, just by herself, sitting on a bench seeming really irritated/isolated herself due to her annoying ass roommate vaggie. He’s got nothing better to do so he tries talking her up a bit, and the conversation veers into smth like this:

“Shit, you seem fun. What’s your name?”

“Lute.”

“Lute? Weird name but sick as hell.”

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“Oh, so you’re not even gonna ask me my name back?”

She sighed. “What’s your name?”

Or like smth like that and then they explain their issues to each other, mainly adam to lute and while she’s very hesitant of him at first she is admittedly curious as well. And then eventually she’s like, “wait I think I recognize you” and then he’s like “Yeah? With a face like mine I’m hard to miss” or smth like that and she’s like “ur that guy from the band that sometimes plays at the bar I go to” and he’s like “well shit, that’s me. You should come see us more, we fucking rock” and then they just keep yapping til morning getting familiar with each other until adam like passes out, and she has to wake him up.

Back at home, Lilith’s behavior jus keeps getting worse until Adam finds out for good she actually IS cheating when she catches her in bed with Lucifer. The next time Lute shows up to the bar, she sees Adam and tries to catch him after the show, asking him how everything is and he explains what happened over a cig and lowkey? She’s pissed because she gets what it’s like to be betrayed like that then have to live with it bc of how Vaggie constantly acts. So, she ends up helping him out, even eventually offering him a place to stay in her apartment for a while after some time with lots of precautions at first until theyre more comfy with each other. Also Vaggie is so angry with this its lowkey funny and then they just give her shit for it LMAO

THEN as adam and lute spend more time together, unexpected feelings get involved and when they finally accept it, they entertain a revenge cheat thing. Like if Lilith’s gonna cheat on him? Fuck it, he’ll do it back, and then he divorces her after she finds out so she can get a taste of her own medicine. Around like a month passes and after some legal proceedings, he gets the rights to the old marital house and lets Lute hang around there sometimes, also letting her crack out on some of the property he was able to get too. And boy is it satisfying when they take advantage of that same bed Adam caught Lilith and Lucifer in one time. Revenge coming full circle.

MY BAD FOR THE HUGE YAP SESSION COULDNT HELP MYSELF obviously a lotta details might change but heres this random ass premise i stirred up at *literally* 1:00AM thanks for reading this whole shitshow if u somehow made it this far im literally gonna write this i swear i cant wait

[tired-biscuit]

this is like maybe a little specific and really just me rambling

but FIRST of all im obsessed with your portrayal of kiba. he's like always been my fav but his content is so limited so its been away since my imagination flew but phew these last few days reading your blog has been a journey.

but back to the ramble ive been thinking a lot of the brother's bsf trope for him. at first i was riding naru bc bros but then i thought about sasu and the whole prideful uchiha vibe. even in the modern version, then just being like these corporate giants alongside the hyugas and the other ‘noble’ clans. and like maybe kiba isn’t really bsfs with sasu but like the whole ‘genin’ growing up around each other thing. probably all just went through the same school system.

ANYWAY rambles

i imagine like the uchiha ‘princess’, the only daughter and youngest sibling to sasu and ita. and like she’s just really grown up with that whole corpo royalty vibe, getting everything she wants, always supervised low key suppressed LIKE NOTHING NEW HERE low-key maybe even loosely in talks of being engaged to one of the ally corps like hyugas or something the point is its SCREAMING corruption for kiba. like the forbidden fruit. subtle classism, like kiba’s family isn’t what the uchihas would envision for her but like I just imagine her sneaking out with her brother to a uni party or something (like maybe sasu got to go to a public uni and she got the private treatment) and just like bumping into kiba in all his alpha buff man-ness and just like that first spark of lust just like overwhelms her like doesn’t even know whats going on but OH BOY KIbA does and he’s just like ‘yeah I got what you need bbygirl’ and yeah. Asdfsjhkgrhgo I have a lot of thoughts sorry for all the words 🐣

i don’t see kiba and sasuke being friends because kiba is too big of a hater, BUT i think that would even add more to the appeal because, like… he can act like a real proper shithead towards the people he doesn’t particularly like, so scoring sasuke’s little sister? yeah, he’d definitely try it just to get a sense of some kind of victory from it.

and i think it’d be the initial motive at first — the whole ‘haha, i fucked your sister, whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?’ — but then one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s caught… feelings. feelings that he doesn’t really know how to comprehend yet, and it’s weird because you’re like his exact opposite; so fancy and with your nose upturned whenever he winds up in your presence, pushing your whole princess agenda forward. and he knows that he should find it annoying because you’re acting just like your equally as annoying brother, but instead he’s catching himself thinking about you more and more and he’s almost finding it entertaining. pestering you is almost fun to him.

i think he’d wonder what you’d look like without the make up and the pretty skirt. what you’d look like with messy hair instead of it being in that almosy eerie state where each strand is sitting perfectly in place. he wants to see actual sweat coating your face instead of that matt powder he’s seen you reapply once or twice before because you hate the shine on your forehead. he wants to fuck you nasty and ruin that idea of you being a perfect girl in every single situation just so that he can see what you’re really like underneath.

besides that, i also imagine him initially pursuing you because he hates, hates, hates the whole idea behind noble clans, as well as the set of strict, mostly unfair rules that they’ve got going on, because of what they did to hinata. so if you’re his ticket to fuck with them a little bit, hey, why not?

you would find him appealing because he just simply does not give a shit what anybody thinks. he might get pissed off if someone insults him, sure, but he still ends up doing whatever it is that he wants in that moment and he doesn’t apologize for it. plus, his clan is more like one big family instead of a picture on the wall where everyone is smiling their most perfect grin despite the fact that their eyes still end up looking cold.

he’s warm, you know? carefree and dumb and not uptight at all. he finds joy in the little things and instead of spending money on fancy dinners, he buys things cheap because he’s saving up for a roadtrip that he’s planning to go on this summer with his shitty truck. he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty and he loves his dog more than most people.

…and he’s also the first man who actually looks you in the eyes and tells you you’re full of shit when you start acting bratty and deserve to be called out for it. he treats you like a person instead of delicate glass.

[brookiidookiii]

okay so i am having a lot of thoughts abt a killer elizabeth fnaf au.....

(in this au CC survived the bite of 83 but has permanent brain damage from the accident. michael never got scooped or changed his name)

im thinking mmmaybe elizabeth goes apeshit after learning that willy killed a few kids + charlie and murders then decides to murder him to avenge the kids. well elizabeths always been a little bit messed up even from childhood (like killing dead animals and the behavior was usually endorsed by william too) and this time she finalllllyyyy snaps and decides to actually do it then that leads her down a rabbithole of violent tendencies

and eventually she kinda gets driven to madness and needs to tell someone and she decides to go to henry bc she knows he hates william and tells him the truth that willy killed charlie (by now henry has abandoned the company and just makes animatronics as a side job). obv henrys pissed off and believes williams death is justified so he decides to help her cover it up so they stuff william in the spring bonnie suit and leave it behind a sealed off room to rot away

meanwhile because after a while william is pronounced death when nobody can find him and michael inherits the company against his will and is now the only owner of both fazbear entertainment AND afton robotics

basically kind of the evnts of sister location take place. michael goes into the weird underground place and finds old blueprints and realizes uh oh!!!! his dad is a psycho!!!! probably planning to kill kids with these robots!!! and then links the deaths of the 5 kids + charlie with william and comes to the conclusion ohhhhhhh so yeah he did it.

mike tries to contact CC (i call him evan buttttt yea) to ask him if he knows about any of this but CC basically is seperated from anything related to the afton family or fazbear so mike cant get in touch with him, so he goes to henry if he knew anything abt william being the killer and eventaully they meet up in person and henry tells him everything he knows and mike is just horrified beyond comprehension

basically he goes on the same journey of trying to find william but henry refuses to tell him the whereabouts of his location and just replies with stuff like "i cant tell you" or "its better if you didnt investigate" and mike gives up

soon after mikes got no clue what to do with freddys and needs money so he turns it into fazbears freights, finds springtrap but doesnt rlly theres a corpse inside and just thinks it smells from all those years of decaying, and decides to use it as display. while hes in the midst of construction and revamping, he doesnt have that much cash to hire a security guard so he decides to take up the position himself, and fnaf 3 happens from there

after that the rest of the timeline goes on. mike decides to reopen a new restaurant to lure springtrap and take him apart, and his original idea isnt to burn down the place, but instead, elizabeth hears that hes reopening a new restaurant, is infuriated, and burns it down herself with springtrap and mike inside, also killing herself in the fire as an act of suicide. henry kind of moved on from charlies death once he got total closure that will was dead and his death freed the spirits of all the kids

im stilllll working out the details idk if im gonna do anything with it (probably not) but i needed to get my thoughts out and have someway to make elizabeth follow in her fathers footsteps, intentionally or not

[gotmesimpin4levi]

🚫‼️DISCLAIMER❗️🛑

This fanfic plot is not mine, it is the plot of the summer I turned pretty TV SHOW not book. All I did was replace each character from tsitp with an aot character. Above is a list of all the characters that will be featured in this story and who wil play them. There isn’t much smut at all just some kissing and ano more than two 🔞 scenes

A/N

I’ll try to post frequently and I’ll post multiple chapters at a time. I did add a bit of originality to it so it’s not just a straight copy and paste with different names. Lemme know is you wanna see more anime crossovers and please enjoy!

PART 1:CHAPTER 1

The air is hot, the water is warm, the sun was blazing in the beautiful blue sky. It was summer which meant that it was almost time to go to Carla’s beach house in Cousins. The place I grew up at with her two sons Eren and Jean, and of course my brother Connie. The place where I lost my first tooth. Learned how to ride my first bike. Had my first love. Cousins, was my home.

“Hitch! I can’t wear that! It’s so… slutty” I said with a disgusted but playful look. She held up a pink tube dress with long sleeves, the shoulders exposed and a pair of pink platform pumps.

“That’s the point y/n!” Hitch. Hitch and y/n, best friends till the end. Sometimes I wonder how we even became friends, it’s been so long I don’t even remember. We’re complete polar opposites. She loves to go out and party, I like to stay inside and watch musicals.

“And besides Eren’ll love it” she said teasingly

“No!” I protested “ We’re not even into each other like that” I lied. Eren and I were like a commensalism. I needed him to breathe, to live. But he never really paid attention to me like I did him. Whatever I did didn’t affect him so he didnt really care.

“LIAR LIAR pants on fire!” Hitch yelled out “ you like him and you know you do”

“Maybe” I murmured “ but he doesn’t like me back so I don’t need the outfit”

“Y/n, look you can’t stay the young gullible little sister forever. Whether you like it or not your changing. Actually you’ve already changed a lot! There’s no way Eren can resist a hot steamy make out session with you. No way! And you’ve gotta get out more!”

I knew I looked different but not enough for Eren to notice me. Right?

“Maybe but I don’t wanna get my hopes up”

“Girl if he doesn’t notice you then he’s cra cra. Here, take these just in case” she handed me along with her slutty outfit a neon green bikini ithong, a pink crochet cami with light colored cutoff shorts and a pair of white Tommy Hilfiger flip flops.

“Thanks Hitch, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m really gonna miss you”

“ hey don’t worry, I’ll see you in a week for your birthday” Bursting in to my room Connie said

“Come on y/n, moms pissed we haven’t left yet” I just blew him off. We walked downstairs and said our goodbyes. Connie drove, I rode shotgun and my mom, Hange, sat in the back seat. This was it, this was the beginning of our perfect, annual, summer getaway!

A/N

I’m soo sorry for the long chapter and all the boring exposition😭

My goal was to make it so that someone who has never seen tsitp could still read this fanfic and enjoy it so my apologies the next chapter is also long but a lot more entertaining!

CHAPTER 2

As soon as we arrive in Cousins every summer, we always stop at this gas station a few miles from Carla’s to get gas and snacks.

“Come on y/n let’s get snacks while Connie fills the tank. Connie just meet us inside when your done”

“Got it!” Me and my brother said unanimously

I walked in and went straight to the slushie machine. Half cherry, half coke. Perfection! I got a couple airheads, a bag of cheetos and made my way toward cashier. He was tall, very pale, and had red hair. He wasn't a very attractive guy but he wasn’t particularly ugly either. The closer I got to the register the more our eyes met and the more his attractiveness started to increase.

“ Hey, im Floch, and you are?” he said with a smirky tone of voice

“Hey im y/n” I responded. I reached out to slide him my snacks and slushie and when he reached out to grab them from me, our hands touched. I blushed, he chuckled a bit.

“ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here in cousins, I’d definitely remember if I saw a pretty girl like you, this your first summer?” He said as he rung up my items

“Oh umm no I’ve been coming here since before I can remember I just don’t really get out much” I could feel my cheeks get hot as my mind was still lingering in the compliment he gave me.

“ Well if you wanna get out more, all us summer Cousins kids are going out to the beach for a bonfire, if you wanna come?” The way he said it. The way his voice lingered when he said “if”. This is what Hitch meant. I had to take advantage of this opportunity!

“ yeah sure I’d love to-“

“Love to what?” My mom said curiously. I could hear Connie “oooooohhhh-ing” from the back of the store

“Nothing! See ya later” I had a goofy cheesy grin on my face. I couldn’t believe it, a boy wanted to invite me somewhere! I had to be there. Mom and Connie followed me back to the car.

“🎶We wanted to believe there was no

No Hell on Earth worse than what we know🎤” I sang out.

“Y/n. No” Connie said hiding a smile

“But every day just seems to worsen We weren't prepared at all🎤”

“🎤Now we must rise to this occasion Devoid of all consideration” I heard my mom hun in the back. After a few more verses we were all screaming at the top of our lungs,

“SASAGEYO SASAGEYO SHINZOU WO SASAGEYO!!🎤🎶” the song ended just as we pulled up to Carla’s beach house. When I got out the car I met with Jeans eyes. It felt like I was looking at a completely different person. Like he hadn’t been my best friend since before I can remember.

“ Y/N!!” He said as he took me in for a big bear hung

“ jEaN!” I said as he lifted me off the ground still bear hugging me

“Damn,Look at how big you’ve gotten! You're not out little y/n anymore” I blushed a bit when he said it.

“Yeah I guess I am changing” I walked over to Eren to hug him but decided against it at the last minute. He, like Jean, looked different too. His hair was a lot longer, he was taller, and you could definitely tell he was more toned than before. But the main thing I noticed was his aura. Something felt off with him. Like he was masking an important feature that made him, him.

“Hey, Eren” i said

“I see you stopped wearing your glasses.” That’s it?! That’s all he said to me?

“Yeah I guess I grew out of them!”

“I liked you better with them”

“Well,” I started, “ I like me better without them,” I said in a snarky tone. Eren was acting differently. Something was definitely up. I looked over at Jean and he had a look in his eye. The kind of look he gave before he did something he knew was bad.

“ guys,” he began, “ you know what time it is?”

“ no. No, no, no, no,no!!” I protested playfully

“Y/N SWIM! Y/N SWIM!!” They all chanted. They picked me up, Connie at my feet and Eren and Jean on each arm. They carried me to the pool out back.

“1!” They all said with a swing. “2! 3!” Before I knew it I was catapulted into the pool. I could hear them all up there laughing and I couldn’t help but laugh too.

“ Come on Jean, help me out of the pool” I said as I reached my arm out. When he grabbed my hand I saw a perfect moment for revenge. I had pulled Jean in the pool along with me. Connie and Eren just laughed and in that moment I saw a glimpse of the old Eren.

CHAPTER 3 Hange pov

“We are all set for your party tonight” the book store attendant said to me

“Great!” I replied.

“How was your?” He asked

“Oh my publishers didn’t send me on tour for this one, it’s been a pretty quiet release!”

“Are you on social media?” The girl asked. “You should really be on social media!”

“Ah, well, no, I’m not.”

“Are you working on something new?” He asked

“Always!” I replied Carla walked over and asked,

“How many copies did you make for tomorrow's night?”

“I think 20”

“Oh, that’s not nearly enough!” Carla protested “I’ve invited half the town!” She exclaimed. I looked at her in shock.

“What?” I said “ you said this was just going to be a small thing?!”

“Look, Petra,” she said to the store clerk “ I am so sorry but you might have to run to the Barnes and Noble in Portsmouth and get some more.”

“Business has been slow we haven’t had many copies of anything coming in” Petra said. Carla picked up a book off the counter and said

“ You must have 100 copies of this book?!”

I read the front of it

“ Levi Ackerman is the off brand Jonathan Franzen. Levi Ackerman is such a phony name. it’s like “hi I’m masculine but I’m intellectual” I mocked “ I bet Hemingway is his hero“

“Mm-hmm” Carla agreed

“ I bet he has horn rimmed glasses!” I teased some more.

“Yeah,see? I I held up his picture in the back of the book. “Yeah,” I heard a voice from across the room. “Contacts irritate my eyes.”

“Goodbye Levi!” The store clerk said as the man walked out the door.

“Yeah that was him,” Petra said “ he’s renting the Burke house this summer“

“Oh, that’s a nice place!” Carla said

I put the book back down on the counter ashamed of the situation.

“Sorry” I winced

CHAPTER 4

On the first night we always have Carla’s special, Stuffed bell peppers for dinner

“Eren, I heard you quit football,” my mom said

“Yeah. what’s it to you?” He replied

“ So, Connie, I heard you got a job for this summer?” Carla asked

“ oh yeah I’m gonna be working at the rec center-“

“Wait seriously!?” Jean cut off “me too!”

“Jean it’s not nice to cut people off”

“Sorry mom” Jean said he turned back to Connie “I’ll be a lifeguard at the pool”

“Saweet!!” Connie said. He always says dumb stuff like that.

“Y/n, as you know you're becoming a woman,” Carla began “ and here in Cousins we have our annual Debutante Ball and I think you should do it!” My mother practically choked at the news.

“ Ball?” She spat out “ that’s not really y/n’s style, right?” For the longest time I’d always seen Carla as a second mom. I always tried to please her and do everything like her. I even wished sometimes she was my mother. This would be my chance, my chance to do something for Carla to make her proud.

“ Sure,” I heard myself blurt out “I’ll do it. It seems harmless”

“Y/n, I don’t think you know what your getting yourself into” my mother lectured “ a ball is a lot of work and dedication and if I’m being honest you’ve never been one to really care about such things” I could feel the tension in the room rise.

“ Well Mother, it’s my decision and I’m doing it.” Eren rose from the table,

“May I be excused please?” He asked Carla

“Aren’t you going to finish dinner?” She rebuttal

“No, mom” he said sternly “now may I go?”

“Sure,” she replied. The table went silent.

After Dinner I went outside to find Eren. He was sitting along with his feet in the pool smoking a bud. I sat down next to him. He couldn’t have been more bothered to acknowledge me.

“ Smoking is bad for your health, you know?” I told him

“ Well it’s good for my stress,“ he replied. I looked into his eyes trying to find a glimpse of the old Eren, of who he was. Nothing.

“ hey you preached it first” he looked at me with a playful grin.

“ I guess I did, didn't I?” The tip of his bud met the concrete and he threw it across the pool.

“Are you seriously considering this ball thing?” He asked me

“”I mean yeah, I’ve gotten nothing better to do”

“Don’t let my mom make you her little doll because she never had a daughter”

“I don’t mind, sometimes I really wish I were her daughter!”

“Your better off with Hange, trust me”

Before I could get anything else out of him Connie and Jean came running at the house

“Come on Eren!” Jean had called “we ready to hit to the bonfire”

“ Can I come?” I asked joyfully

“ hell no!” Connie told me “ you're not old enough yet” I was furious at those words. I was old enough to go. And you know what? I didn’t need them, I'd go on my own. As soon as the boys left the house I ran upstairs to change into Hitch’s slutty outfit. To be honest I didn’t look that bad. I could get used to this me. The new me. I slipped on my shoes and tiptoed towards the door. Before I left I saw Hange and Carla sitting on the couch together watching a musical. My favorite one actually. West Side Story. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe one day me and Hitch would be like that. Growing old together watching movies on a couch. I slowly opened the door and left. I’d walked in the dark for about 6 minutes until I heard the laughs of teenagers. I saw the glow of the bonfire and knew this was it.

CHAPTER 5

I walked down towards the bonfire and was immediately met with the smell of beer. I saw other kids drinking and making out. I walked out a bit more and I saw Floch, the guy from the gas station who invited me. He was making out with some blonde chick when he saw me. He quickly pulled away and ran over to me.

“Hey, it’s not what it looks like I was just-“ I cut him off.

“Just making out with some girl knowing good and well you invited another one here. Cuz that’s what it looks like to me!” He looked unbothered.

“That’s not it. See she was just holding your place till you got here!”

“And you know what? She can have that place cuz I don’t fuck with man whores.” Angrily I stormed off. How could I have been so foolish to really believe a guy liked me.I looked around a bit and I saw Eren. “ finally a familiar face“ I thought to myself. Until I saw him lean in and kiss another girl. I’m that moment my heart sank. I’d known Eren was probably interested in other girls but, to see it with my own two eyes boiled up a whole new anger in my heart. I could feel myself tear up. And Jean must’ve seen it too, because immediately after he came to me and pulled me away from the scene.

“Hey,” he shouted cheerfully “y/n is here!” I saw Connie’s head whip around.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come!” He had his arm around some girl I'd never seen before. She had her dark brown hair in a high ponytail, a Nirvana crop top on and a bikini thong.

“Because I can do whatever I want. I’m not a damn baby Connie!” He looked furious now

“Why am I even arguing with you? I'm taking you home now!”

“Con,” Jean interrupted, “just give her this one night.” Connie looked at him unamused “please 🥺” he said giving him a little pouty lip.

“Fine!” Connie said “but if you dare to even look at a drink you're out”

CHAPTER 6 Carla pov

“ When the boys threw Y/n in the pool today, I swear I almost saw a smile on Eren’s face. He was in a better mood today than I’ve seen him since him and Historia broke up” I said to Hange

“ I didn’t realize they were that serious?” She replied

“ Neither did I“ we both chuckled. “ he’s just always in such a bad mood. So unlike himself.”

“ since when did he quit football?“ she asked me.

“ A couple weeks ago. He only ever played football to please Grisha. I told you they weren’t getting along. I'm just gonna… let him have his space, you know? let him do his thing.” Hange looked at me with a concerned look.

“ don’t you think maybe it’s time you talked to him?” I looked at her blankly

“ There's nothing to talk about. Can we just have a really great summer like we said we would?” I leaned my arm out to touch her shoulder. We both laughed. “ How's your writing coming?” I asked her

“I just wanna hang out with you,” she replied “I could give a shit about that book right now”

“Liar! You give all your shits about your book. You give too many shits”

“It’s a mid list book” she said “ it’s been out for a month and it’s barely selling.

“ Well it is going to sell a ton of copies tomorrow and I can’t wait to read it!”

“ you never read my books“ she protested

“ Yes I do“ I lied. We both burst into laughter

“ read Levi Ackerman‘s book instead he’s got 150,000 followers on Instagram!” I chuckled a bit

“ you know it wouldn’t hurt you to put yourself out there more. Get on Tinder while your at it” I teased

“Oh my God, please stop!”

“Okay, okay. Maybe not tinder but what is the e app for the 40 and up crowd?”

“Oh I’m begging you stop!“ she cried out

“It’s Ourtime?!” I teased more

“No it’s not!” She said while laughing up a fit.

I scooted in closer and we laughed even harder. I looked at her with soft eyes.

“What?” She asked

“I really think you should let y/n have her deb season.”

“Please” she began “Debutante Balls are just so problematic!”

“I really want to see our girl in a white dress” I told her. Hange looked at me with sadness in her eyes.

“Fine. You win!”

“I always do” I told her

“ is still think it’s a bad idea” she exclaimed

“She might surprise you” I said as I rested my head on her shoulder “people can change you know?”

“Not us though.” She said

“Right,” I agreed, “ you and I are immovable objects.” We sat there together looking out on the lake.

CHAPTER 7

Yess! I had managed to stay. I turned around to talk to Jean but he was already gone with his friends playing an idiotic drinking game. I walked around a bit more until I saw some commotion over where Eren was. I quickly ran over to the scene to find a drunk Eren screaming at another guy.

“Give me the fucking beer back, Reiner!” He yelled

“Dude get your own!” He clapped back

“IT WAS MINE FIRST!” Eren lunged at the other guy knocking the beer out his hand. The two started throwing punches.

“Ereh, please stop, I'll get you another beer!” The girl he was making out with said

“Mikasa, stay out of this!” Eren yelled in a headlock. The boys started throwing punches at each other. I had to stop the fight. I ran over to Eren and pulled his arm back.

“The hell?!” Eren said. He had flung his fist back and striked me across the face. I held my cheek in awe. Jean came and held me from behind. Eren looked up and realized what he had done.

“I-I-I’m sorry, I didn’t” a drunken Eren said to me. My eyes started to tear up. I felt stupid for trying to come to this party. I ran over to the empty part of the beach and sat there and cried.

~

A little while later. I heard feet in the sand walking towards me. I looked up to find a tall white boy with short blonde hair and soft eyes sit down next to me.

“Hey” he said to me

“What do you want?” I replied back

“I just wanted to see if you were okay, that was a pretty nasty fall,”

“Yeah it was.”

“Is your far okay?” He asked

“Yeah it’s feeling a bit better”

“Well umm.. I have a cold beer if you want it?”

“I don’t drink.” I told him

“No,no,no me either,” he exclaimed “not to drink for your cheek.” I could feel my face get hot.

“Thanks” I held the beer up to my cheek “I’m sorry I didn’t even get your name.”

“Armin. Armin Arlert. And you?”

“Y/n L/n”

“That’s a very beautiful name”

“Thanks” we talked for what felt like hours. He seemed so familiar yet he was so far from it.

“Oh no” we heard someone from up the beach yell. “THE POPO ARE HERE!” I saw Jean run down the beach toward me. He grabbed my arm

“Come on y/n we gotta go!” Armin got up with us. Jean carried a wasted Eren on his shoulders to the car. He put Eren in the back seat and got in the driver's seat.

“Come on y/n get in the car” Jean yelled

“Actually I wanted to ride with Armin-“

“No actually you're gonna get your little ass in the car!” Jean had never used that tone of voice with me before. It was scary but effective.

“ When can I see you again?” I asked Armin.

“Well you could see me Saturday and the drive in movie and 8?”

“It’s a date” I said blushing “till next time

“Till next time!” He leaned in toward me and planted a kiss on my lips.

“Ewwww, Nasty” I heard Eren say from the back seat.

“Holy shit!” Jean said “I forgot about Connie! Don’t fucking move! I’ll brb” he raced out the car and down the beach to find Connie. I could help but smile at the thought of Armin. He made me feel so happy and warm inside. I felt Eren reach and his hand from the back seat and touch my hair.

“Your hair is like a little kid's hair,” he said, “always so messy. Y/n..” he started to say then there was a knock on the window. We both looked up to see an office.

“Have you kids been drinking?”

CHAPTER 8

The office trailed the four of us home. When she rang the doorbell my mother, Hange, answered it.

“Thank you so much for bringing them home, officer.” She shut the door “What were you kids thinking, getting drunk like that and having an officer bring you home?

“Mom,” Connie started, “ it wasn't even a big deal the cops just wanted to break up the bonfire!”

“ Wasn't a big deal? Con, you were escorted home by the police! THAT'S a pretty big deal to me!” You could hear Connie sniff the air a bit

“Were you guys smoking weed?” He asked

“What? Keep your voice down! Carla’s sleeping on the couch!”

“I wasn’t yelling you were mom.” Connie protested

“Just so you know Hange,” Jean began “ I wasn't drinking at all tonight. I was the DD I swear!”

Eren! You're the oldest. I expect so much more. What the hells got into you?” She looked at me “and when did you start leaving the house without telling anyone? And what the hell are you wearing?” I looked up at her

“It’s Hitch’s dress, and why am I the only one not allowed to go out-“

“It’s not that you can’t go out, it's just you need to tell someone before you leave.” She cut off “and how the hell did you even get there?”

“I walked,” I said under my breath. “You walked.” She mumbled as she put her hands to her head. “ you know better than to walk that far down the beach at night!” She's really pissed me off. I’d been her sweet innocent child for long enough. I deserved to have fun and to have my own life. She let Eren, Connie, and Jean live there life however but when I came to be I could do shit.

“Would you stop treating me like a child!” I lashed out at her. She looked me deep in the eyes, “if you wanna be treated like and adult… act like one!” She finished off her sentence in a stern voice. The kind that sent goosebumps down your arm.

“Then maybe y’all should too.” U was surprised to hear Eren say.

“Excuse me?” Mom asked as she looked at Carla’s boys “I just want you all to know that this night could’ve ended a lot differently if your family wasn’t your family.”

“We’re really sorry Hange.” Jean said

“Just go to bed guys.” I was the first one to leave. I went to the kitchen to grab a cold bag a veggies for my face. I went upstairs and changed into my night clothes. I laid back in my bed to sleep when I heard a knock through the wall. It was Jean. He’s still remembered our secret code from the summers before. I laughed softly before putting the bag back on my face and going to sleep.

CHAPTER 9 Eren pov

I got up from the bench to go to my room when I felt Hange grab my wrist.

“I don’t understand what’s going on with you?

“Nothing,” I told her “I’m fine”

“Eren!” I heard her say as I went into the living room. I saw my mother laying there on the couch. I took the throw blanket and placed it over her. I loved her but the sight of her made me so angry sometimes. I just wished she wouldn’t try so hard. So hard to pretend like everyone and everything was gonna be okay.

A/N

thank you so much for reading this part! It’s my first real fanfic that I've done. I’ve been so excited to write this and it’s so great that people actually like it. Again please let me know what else you guys wanna see and part two will be out next Tuesday. I’ll try to keep this consistent. Thank you all for the support and I’ll see you in the next part!

[acoldsovereign]

I see Eren...

I have a question as a humble anon. Im curious but, how do you feel about him as a character? And how AOT ended? I feel like your answer will be fun to hear. :) I had mixed feelings but idk. Seeing him made go "oh no" because like, I forgot the existed, lol sorry but also because of all the infighting that happened in the fandom. So I was wondering if you had any thoughts?

*ignore my typos if there's any

SUBJECT MATTER: OOC talks / fandoms // sender: anonymous // status--always open!

{{ Oof. Okay, so--I think I'm not the best person to ask about this because when THAT happened in the fandom, I was highly confused as to why people hated it. I legit didn't understand. I had to go back and re-read the manga and I still didn't understand why people were pissed? But looking back on it, I can see it. Before I continue on that point, I'll answer you:

I adore Eren. He's my poor little meow meow. My smol angry husbando. He's a complex, traumatized, aggressive, violent fucker. I love him. Many of my current muses are on the spectrum of 'ready for violence for whatever reason'. I think it's okay to like him. Folks don't owe you a ten page essay rife with sources as to why they like or don't like a character. Moral judgements shouldn't be made about what piece of fiction someone engages with; you're not their parent and shaming isn't cool, whether you're fine with what they like or not. Very rarely will you change their mind, and instead of blocking them/moving on, you're just making yourself upset/creating an unsafe/unwelcomed environment from those who think and engage with the source material differently from you. Putting the rest under a read more because spoiler territory.

With that said, the ending was fine--I quite liked it! It's tragic and sad for sure, but I had no illusions about Attack on Titan ending horrifically. It's a dark fantasy story that began with what's left of humanity defending itself from flesh-eating monsters picking them off one by one. If . . . you thought a story like that would have a happy ending (or would have romance in it--a complaint I saw in many, many places), I have to ask why. Why is that where your mind is when there's death and destruction on every page? Then the plot twist--Titans are actually people, and they were created and planted in strategic places around the world because of [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS]. It's so fucked. You'd be lucky if your favorite character survived to the END. (Which, didn't happen for me. As I said, Eren gets love around here because I adore how layered he is. I did mourn another character who died earlier, though. And Eren's response to her fate broke my heart; yet another thing the fandom twisted around and made into something it's not). Point is--there is no real 'moral lesson' to AOT. It's a dark story made to entertain. The theme is "senseless violence begets senseless violence". It's funny because I was talking about this recently with the Eren I write with (@scarlxtleaves). Isayama himself in many interviews stated he just made it because he wanted to. Many times he was pressed for an answer and that's what he kept saying. There was one interview I remember where he did give a 'proper' answer (a generic answer about hope/optimism/determination, I think? Don't quote me on that), but it was because he was pressed for one--as if people couldn't just take him at his word. It's a bit sad, honestly. Not everything needs to be so deep--which brings me back to the fandom.

I think many people took the ending out of context, Eren out of context and used the manga as a way to attack Isayama. Many people were upset their ships didn't happen, some felt betrayed that Eren turned out be the ultimate villain/antagonist, some even went as far to send him hate mail, tell him his manga was horrible, that he should d*e, etc etc. Again, in hindsight, I understand all of this. I got whiplash too. 😂 I was like "for real??????? Y'all deadass rn???? Someone say SIKE" but nope, that's who he was--which encouraged me to reread and rewatch EVERYTHING. It all clicked and I went "how the hell did we not see this?!" 😭 So yeah, I get that Eren doing the Rumbling is extreme--but that's the point, he's BEEN that extreme since chapter and episode 1. We just didn't pay attention and thought he was bluffing. That's not the character's fault. And it doesn't mean he's written badly. He's not.

We just thought he wasn't gonna stand on business. Eren Yeager stood on that shit, 10 toes down. Genocide IS extreme (it always is, no doubt about it--and I'm not a fan of those who call Eren fans/appreciators genocide apologists because whoa??? Buddy, it's not that serious???? Again, we're not in school, we're not getting tested for morality or what have you, please take a chill pill. You're NOT getting a medal for being more moral or 'gooder' of a human than me because of . . . what character I like??????), but I get it. Don't blindly cheer him on but also: AOT Earth is NOT equivalent with our Earth. The cast is dealing with abnormal situations that we don't (people turning into giant weapons/human eating monsters, a government conspiracy to continue using SAID monsters, a even more secret plan by multiple world governments/nations to wipe out a defenseless island of people who have NO direct connection with the vile Empire that spawned them, etc etc). So if you're gonna put Eren on a crucifix, put the Marleyan government on that shit first. They LITERALLY are the reason why Eren's mom (and many innocent people) died/became mindless killers (the Titans), which made him want to kill them all in the first place. Put Grisha Yeager on that shit too, because he was a deadbeat ass father who ONLY had Eren just to pass on the Attack and Founding Titans BECAUSE SOMEONE TOLD HIM TO. He's the same thing as Gaara's father from Naruto. Same reasons why they had their youngest sons. EXACT SAME. Unlike Rasa, Grisha never apologized to Eren. Not once for bringing him into such a cruel world, not once for forcing the Titan serum on him, not EVEN for SHORTENING HIS LIFESPAN (Eren would die at 23 or until someone else killed/ate him for his Titan powers), none of it. Annie, Reiner, Berthold--they BROKE. The wall. And allowed the Smiling Titan in--the same one that ate Eren's. Mom. Like, c'mon now!

[scratchwake]

oh @bunny-heels you are going to regret this

gonna put all of the story stuff and drawings under the cut because thisll be a very very long post

basically, the ocs name is Rosalind Carr! she/they pronouns. during the events of the game was currently staying with family in the Bright Falls/Watery area

her design isn't really small town looking, but that's because I wanted to give her a very fish out of water city girl feel, since she's originally from NYC, so I went for a lot of modern city fashion, like mesh shirts and such, I wanted to make sure she stuck out as someone who is very much not from the rural PNW

but enough about her and more about her silly little relationship(?) with scratch!casey (and also, actual alex casey)

starting with her relationship with casey, she was kinda like a rebound sort of thing after The Divorce (what can i say, im a slut for divorced men) and obviously because of that it ended poorly. (okay, well, Kind of a rebound, some of it did overlap with the marriage because I'm also a slut for affairs)

but, before it ended, she started staying in BF with some family, which is part of what got casey interested in the murders there, because he was kinda worried about her getting fucking murked

but of course, the break up happens and he cant just back out of the case (and he doesnt even want to, anyway), which creates some VEERY awkward interactions during the events of the game. hes still somewhat interested in her, and shes still quite pissed off at him

then, game shit happens, and scratch possesses casey. and its a bit like

scratch: "eugh, this new body is so clunky and weird. but that doesnt matter, as long as i make this ending happen, it'll be all good."

rosalind: *exists for over .5 seconds, literally just trying to not die, having been roped into all this by sheer circumstance*

scratch: *immediately becomes filled with insatiable lust because now that he occupies caseys body, he can feel every less than convinent urge casey gets (like fucking on the job) amplified tenfold*

so he just. starts annoying her. she KNOWS hes not casey, which is probably why she entertains it rather than hiding in a hole until everything is okay again

and without further ado: her design, and a doodle of her and scratch!casey based on my first post about them (disclaimer: im still learning how to draw sam lakes face so PLEASE gimme the benefit of the doubt here lol)

basically, though-out the whole deerfest section, you have this poor woman who knows she's forgetting something and KNOWS something is wrong and the whole time there is this fucked up version of her ex trying to get in her pants (and honestly? lowkey succeeding.)

imagine being her, laying in bed next to a fucked up and evil version of her ex boyfriend while he rambles about famous missing author Alan Wake and how they need to "become one"

it's kinda like a, me my boyfriend and my boyfriends giant plushie situation except none of them are together and scratch is just insane

if anyone wants to know some random facts about her, flick me an ask! she is my baby and i love her so much (i am cringe but i am free)

[goth-oatmilk-latte]

is there a story behind meeting new Mr oatmilk that you want to share w the class?<3 (ps he sounds like a well deserved upgrade)

sure!! so btw he took the photos of me at the cemetery/my current pfp!!

him and i have actually known each other for probably like 6 years or so. when we first met, he was married and we didnt really talk we just had a lot of mutual friends bc we like the same music and go to a lot of the same shows and we would just see each other in passing. he ended up telling me he was intrigued by me bc i had done a photoshoot and my pfp when we met was me holding a butcher knife in a wednesday addams outfit, and he said he knew i had to be an interesting person from that alone. he is quite shy though. we would also see each other places but never really said more than hi to one another. he got divorced in 2020, we talked a little then, but not really. then he dated his now most current ex, more or less bc she basically cornered him into a relationship while he was just getting over his divorce and homegirl needed a place to stay. hes told me he regrets it and said he literally should have kept trying with me bc being shy with me would have been a hell of a lot better than how things worked out for the 2.5 years of abuse she put him through. (his words)

last year we started talking a lot bc he was posting a lot of concerning stuff to his insta private story and so i kind of talked him thru his abusive relationship he was currently in and he mentioned he really needed a close friend. we ended up becoming gym partners for a bit before both our now exs went batshit over it and our friendship as a whole. and we stopped talking for a bit...and then we would talk a little here and there. and we both mutually agreed we were both in shit relationships.

around may, he texted me and told me him and his ex finally broke it off after months of him trying (long story) but he still wanted to at least be my friend again bc he missed me a lot. and i told him i was also dealing with more or less trying to leave my fiance. this is actually around the time i found the flashdrive full of nudes from other women ex mr oatmilk was keeping from me. and i finally left mr oatmilk after he tried to go thru my phone while i was in the shower, which prompted an argument about why it didnt matter who i was friends with bc he couldnt stop entertaining other women and i even pulled out the flashdrive and was like yeah im done.

so me and new mr oatmilk started hanging out more. he would go on walks with me after work. or we would go back to being gym buddies. or we would grab dinner. go to a bookstore. i helped him pick out stuff for his new apartment.

i asked him if he wanted to go see the cure with me at the end of last month and he surprised me by paying for a 2 night hotel stay for us instead of us just driving 2 hrs. and thats also when we went to the cemetery to walk around bc he knew id like it. thats pretty much when we decided we were actually an item.

i helped him move into a new apartment last weekend. and tonight im surprising him with making him dinner. ive pretty much stayed over since he moved in, which is funny bc he got a smaller bed than he would normally get bc he originally told me he didnt wanna feel lonely since it's just him...but he has only spent like one night alone since living there lol.

whats really fucked up tho is his ex is always trying to instigate with me...from doxing me in a bar bathroom, to literally driving by his new place to see if i am there. and shes friends with my ex now too. she's harassed me via text and social media, too. but it's fine, i dont usually engage. which pisses her off.

him and i are happy 🥰 hes honestly lovely.

[slowdripsunrise]

BOOK REVIEW AGAINNNNNNN yippee i have actually been reading... not a lot but well i am ! kinda forgot about this blog ok thats not true i was just lazy and didnt want to write a post. well anyways heres a big post for all the stories i read there are 4 - things have gotten worse since we last spoke by eric larocca, paradise rot by jenny hval, soft science by franny choi, and the country will bring us no peace by matthieu simard ! spoilers under the cut

ok first i read things have gotten worse since we last spoke because i wanted to go on a little kick of reading weird crazy people books at 3 am. and i did! chose this one because i saw it was very short so. anyways i thought this was.... okay. i think what made it a little worse off for me is that i already knew about the whole parasite thing from tiktok, so it wasnt that crazy to me when it actually happened. gonna be honest i do Not remember how the book ends at all so i dont even know if it was satisfying or not. was my experience worsened by it being 3am and me not having any thoughts at all? probably. would i do it again? yeah. i was a lil bit disappointed in the apple peeler part too... i thought it was going to be more relevant than it was unless there are some hidden symbolism meanings motifs going on that i didnt get... actually now that im thinking about it big long unbroken peels of apple + a big long probably worm-like parasite? next to each other thats kinda cool. other than that thought i literally just had now typing this out i didnt see anything else. omg speaking of seeing the tagline and also its mentioned in the book, "what did you do today to deserve your eyes?" crazy ass fuck sentence. i kinda love it actually and this is maybe where i would have like to see the apple peeler come in. she takes the apple peeler to her face and peels her eyes out of her head idk. also i feel like either on tiktok/goodreads they were supposed to be ballerinas? but that wasnt mentioned at ALL? i might be misremembering but that also could have been a cool little anecdote. anyways all this to say i thought the book was alright. i was entertained for like 2 hours. my favorite part of this experience was going on goodreads after and seeing a one star review of the book that just said "men stop writing trauma porn about lesbians." which is SO FUCKING FUNNY. because 1 im pretty sure the author is nonbinary, so hes not a man. 2. WHO IS GETTING OFF TO THIS. sorry i do absolutely not see any fetishization here, and also i think they write stories like this in like collections,, so there are probably people other than lesbians in them. idk i just thought that was funny. jesus christ this is getting long and i'm only 1/4 done. i pity anyone who opens this.

next i read paradise rot by jenny hval, which i had heard was dubbed the "bisexual piss book" intriguing and also a short little story i read at 3am. i did like this one, i thought it was fun and interesting and im a big fan of rot. just in general. vibes were on point. this book was moist. however, not as much piss as i expected. as in like quantities on page. they did talk about piss a lot and by they i mean the narrator. not as horror-esque as i thought it would be but i did like it! ohhh to simply rot away...... would not recommend this to normal people and i like that about it.

soft science by franny choi !!!! really liked this! im going to be honest i do not remember more than one poem from this collection. but i do remember liking them !!! sorry i think i need to train my brain to like and remember poetry more. and not just like the ones from tumblr webweaves even though all of them slay.

finally i read the country will bring us no peace by matthieu simard. i liked this, thought it was super interesting,,, ok i didnt think it was super interesting i thought it was good. god i am trying to program myself out of academic reviews of stupid dumbass books i was forced to read. this isn't like that at all. anyways i thought the whole grief aspect was done very well, the sadness at knowing literally nothing will work or come together to make your life go back to the way it was, go back to being whole again. and that deep deep sadness of not only losing their daughter but also the life they had before, the life they had with each other,,, losing all hope. it definitely got to me i did almost cry i think. i think i have more to say about this but i don't remember it. oh well. i thought the vibes of a hostile small mountain town were cool ! i think one of my favorite scenes was when the lavoie's kid falls from the antenna and they are just standing there doing nothing and simon has to go save him... idk the fact that they were shown as perfect parents for their perfect children and how not great they actually were <- this thought is dumb and obvious you get what im saying. one of my main issues is that the ending did feel rushed... and i was a bit confused,,,, the last line "a bird starts to sing" i couldn't tell if that was meant to be marie and simon hearing birds in the afterlife, in the woods by the bowling alley? or was that just the birds in the town finally starting to sing? because if its the latter i don't really get how simon and marie dying would bring the birds back.. the town is still dying and tragedies will still happen... idk its probably the birds in the afterlife but oh well. ok final thought i think but i think the title in french is interesting. it's called "ici, ailleurs" which means "here, elsewhere" or more like "here, something better. here, a new beginning." i like that, obviously it's what the book is about, and idk i think the translator did a good job at conveying the message. i think i would read this book again but in french, mostly to practice because my french is shit but i think since it only really stays in one setting, there's not a lot of characters, concepts are pretty easy to understand, i think it would be fun !!!! ok im done those are my reviews of all the books ive read in the past week or so thanks to anyone who reads this whole thing you are crazy. peace and love

[wizkiddx]

3 hearts broken

I did an angst thing again oops also not proof read double oops

summary: an argument between you and tom, except it takes him hurting someone else for you to loose it

warnings: alot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) idk anything else except commitment issues?

////////////////////////////////////////////

It was an argument you and your boyfriend regularly had. In fact, it was the only argument the two of you ever had. And especially recently, one that Tom seemed to want to have every day. It didn’t matter where you were on set; in the rental home; out for dinner. Or like now… in the airport lounge.

You were sitting across from each other in a semi-private booth. Tom in his joggers and a burgundy hoodie, you in your black leggings and an oversized tee that actually belonged to your boyfriend. The rest of the place was almost deserted, given the late-night time of the flight. It was probably why Tom felt so comfortable bringing up this touchy subject in a public place.

You were both way past overtired too, owing to the end of a gruelling shoot. All you wanted was to get back to London and get into your own bed. Without an unnecessary fight with Tom.

Unfortunately for you, when you had naively said those exact words, Tom’s overtired brain skipped straight to it being a personal attack.

“I don’t see why you can’t commit to moving in Y/n! We practically live together for filming anyway so-“

“I love you Tom, more than I could ever express. I just… I can’t do this yet. I need… more-“

“More time, I know.” He grumbled, already standing and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder - as the flight’s gate was announced by the intercom. Had he not already turned his back and started heading along the hallway, you would’ve tried to protest and calm him down. But thanks to his urgency to get away from you… all you could do was sigh. Slumping back against the seat before hauling yourself up and grabbing the bags - that he had helped you with on the way in.

No doubt this would be a long flight.

That it was. Tom had been maturely giving you the silent treatment at the gate, as you were boarding, and finding you seats. You were both in first class, so you had adjacent little pods with a little partition in the middle. It’s standard position was to be lowered however, before you’d even been able to settle into your window seat, Tom had already switched to button to have it slowly slide up.

Real fucking mature.

Thinking he just needed some time to cool off, you rolled your eyes but let him be. Even though you were such a frequent flier, you were terrible at getting any sleep on them. Tom knew this, knew how much you disliked the idea of being hurtling through the air in a tin can. Usually, he’d be holding your hand, entertaining you by watching a movie and providing a shit commentary over the top. Sometimes, when you were both as exhausted as right now, he’d even slide into your chair, having you perch on top of him so you could fall asleep listening to his heartbeat in his chest. Now though? He refused to acknowledge your existence.

Tom never had such issues flying, he was like a switch that could just choose to fall asleep at any and every point. Which is perhaps why it shocked you to see him still wide awake, staring angrily at the corner of his pod when you went to the loo, hours later. Thinking it was time for a peace offering, on the return to your seat you made eye contact and began to smile softly at him. However, that plan lasted for all of two seconds, since as soon as he realised you had seen him staring, Tom instantly shut his eyes - playing asleep.

He really was being particularly stubborn tonight.

By the time the plane landed, he’d still refused to say anything - and it was starting to really piss you off too. You’d tried to be mature, tried to offer the metaphorical olive branch and he had quite literally thrown it back in your face. So by the time you were being escorted off the plane (first because you were first class), you hung back from your boyfriend, wanting to have your own space.

Which was exactly why you didn’t want to give up your own apartment yet!

The two of you walked across the bridge into the terminal with a good 8 metres between each other. Tom didn’t bother to turn round and check on you, taking purposeful steps as though he wanted to get away.

Thankfully the terminal was quiet, probably due to the ungodly hour in the morning you’d landed at. The halls echoed only with your and Toms footsteps, the echo exaggerating just how far away you felt from him at this point. Still, Tom hadn’t acknowledged your existence, or anyone elses for that matter - the pair of you almost got to baggage reclaim before seeing any other humans.

And that is where it all went wrong.

It was typical, an otherwise empty airport except for you, Tom and a family with 2 girls. 2 teenage girls. 2 teen girls whose eyes widened to almost comical levels at the sight of your boyfriend. You’d seen them from a mile away, but from Tom’s reaction to them - he clearly hadn’t.

In fact, you were such a distance away you couldn’t exactly hear the exchange. But what you saw, had your heart in your mouth.

The girls ran over from the seats their whole family were sitting in, squealing at Tom with that overcited little jump you’d seen so often. Instead of Tom turning to them and entertaining them with small talk and a photo or two - he did the opposite. If anything, he quickened his cadence, looked as though he waved the girls off without muttering two words.

And maybe there was a reason. Maybe they had shouted something really rude at him - but fuck, the chances were slim. One looked ten, and one looked a couple of years older - as you approached, you saw the dejected and shocked faces melt into ones of intense disappointment. The eldest turned and hugged the younger, whose chest appeared to be shaking in a way that meant only one thing. Tom had made her cry.

Just as both the mother and father stood up to rush to the girls, you matched their hurried steps - getting their first.

“Hi, excuse me… “

You felt really awkward but knew you had to do something for these poor girls. And quite possibly for Toms career too. “Are you guys okay?” It took a second or two, but the girls clearly both recognised you too (thank god), throwing nervous looks at each other.

“Are yo-you Y/n?” The younger one asked, bright eyes glazed in tears which broke your heart to see.

“Yeh-yeh I am, what are your names?” You knelt, smiling warmly at the girls, who seemed to chirp up a bit.

“I’m Tima” The eldest spoke first before nudging the other to speak. You waited patiently till the little girl had wiped her eyes before replying.

“I’m Azara.”

“Wow, you’ve both got very beautiful names. Where are you both headin-“

“Can I ask you a question!?” Litte Azara burst out, interrupting you, but in the cutest and sweetest way. You just laughed and said of course, as she twiddled with her thumbs nervously.

“How big is the biggest T-rex?” Her little eyes were so curious and you had to suppress a giggle, seeing how serious it was.

Of course, the T-Rexs in Jurassic world (one of your movies) were all CGI. But Azara didn’t have to know that.

“Oh, they are bigger thanthan the tallest trees you’ve ever seen!”

You carried on your little chat with the girls for five or so minutes, laughing with them and exchanging soft nods with their parents too - who seemed appreciative of your time. Eventually, though, it was the dad who pulled time on the exchange, signalling that the girls had taken up enough of your time. As you stood up, Tima spoke up - after being relatively withdrawn from the conversation.

“You’re friends with Tom Holland right?” You nodded, subconsciously biting your lip to see what she would say. “Can you tell him sorry for bothering him, it’s just Azara was excited, we only wanted to say hi.”

Yeh, there was absolutely no way these incredibly sweet girls did anything to Tom. He was just being a knob.

“Hey, it’s not your fault at all. We’ve just had a really, really long flight, and he’s in a bit of a mood at me - I’m so sorry that he let it out on you.”

That explanation seemed to satisfy Tima with a nod, and with some final hugs you bid the girls both farewell. By this point, the rest of your plane had caught up along the corridors, so it was busier, and you had to fight against the small crowd to get through the airport as quickly as possible. Because you were seething with rage for Tom and could not wait to tell him exactly what those poor girls thought of him.

Unsurprisingly Tom had chosen not to wait for you in the airport at all, instead already hiding inside the blacked-out windows of the 4x4 waiting at the collection point. You marched up to that car angry to the point you thought the whole airport would notice. Yanking the door so hard you were surprised you did no damage to it, you threw your bags in - momentarily ignoring the sight of Tom huddled into a corner, staring at his phone with AirPods in.

But once you slammed the door shut and the driver started the car, you let yourself go.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!”

“Y/n can we just leave it for- “

“You made 2 girls cry!!! You were so self-absorbed in your temper tantrum that you made 2 teenage girls cry. You proud of yourself?”

This time he did look at you, eyes wide and confused - clearly not understanding. So you continued - laying it out for him.

“Those two girls you waved off because you were so busy running away from me? Well the youngest one cried and then the eldest didn’t speak and when she did it was only to ask me to apologise to you. You’re a fucking dickhead!”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Oh god, that makes it all better. You didn’t mean to make them cry on purpose, so it’s fine! God if you’d only said I’d-“

“Fuck off Y/n you’re not being fair, cut the sarcasm.”

“I’m not being fair?!? Because I’m the bad person in this situation, right? I just saved you from a very, very bad headline tomorrow morning because you were too busy giving me the silent treatment.”

“Yeah, well, your the one who doesn’t seem to give a damn about me!”

You scoffed hard at his words, air trapped in your throat that now felt completely stuck. How could he say that? How could he even think that?

As much as you hated showing it, you felt your eyes well up with tears. Because who the fuck did he think he was.

“Now that, that is so unfair. You know exactly my history and why I don’t want to move in yet AND you know just how much I fucking love you. So don’t you dare.”

“You're not convincing anyone.” He spoke quieter, but the venom behind his tone was still there. As the first tear escaped over your bottom lashes, you knocked on the partition to the driver and asked him, in no uncertain terms, to pull over.

“Congrats Tom. That’s three women you’ve broken the hearts of in 20 minutes. Must be some sort of a record.”

And with that you slammed the door shut, abandoned on the side of the road somewhere within Heathrow.

?a part 2? idk where id go from here aha

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala

[mammonsvulva]

Hi there! I just discovered your page and i loved the bachata headcannon!

On that same line, can you do a female latina headcannon? Like, more specifically, Colombian, you know, an MC that's like normally fluent in english but when mad she just burst on angry spanish screaming session with latin curses and a strong accent and also just getting really mad if deemed as Mexican by default? I'd love that! Thank youuuu (also feel free to ignored this if it's not of your fancy)

I hope you have a great day!

Of course! I really hope you like it! :)

(I tried to incorporate things some of my relatives say as Colombians please don’t hate me🥲)

The Brothers + Datables and a Latina MC with Colombian Habits

Lucifer❤️

Lucifer has always been amused by the boldness MC portrayed, that is until Mammon pissed her off

MC actually f*cking explodes, calling Mammon “culicagao” (like a bratty kid) and a bunch of profanities out of rage

Actually leaves Lucifer surprised, who could she hate so much that she’d put a curse on them?

Is actually kind of scared to speak up after she went silent, kinda just stares at her like “what the fuck do I do”

“I’ve told Mammon A THOUSAND TIMES. IM NOT F*CKING MEXICAN”

(Oooohh Mammons gonna get his ASS WHOOPED)

“MAAAAAAMMMMOOOOONNN????”

Mammon💛

Could learn a thing or two from MC, had some strong clap backs

Is counting his money when OUT OF NOWHERE MC just starts incanting a literal curse

Literally has his quaking in his boots dude, like he’s genuinely terrified

He can’t keep up with anything she’s saying and feels like his time to die has come

Doesn’t say A WORD when she calms down, jumps when she starts apologizing for reacting like that

“W-w-what happened? ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )”

“I LOST 10 GRAND IN BLACK JACK! ITS FUCKING RIGGED!”

Is genuinely more cautious for a while, kind of traumatized him

Mammon thought it’d be a great Idea to take her to meet one of his witches, MC already didn’t like her but listen to this

First thing the witch said was “Aren’t you that Mexican transfer student or whatever?”

(‘Oooh Ms. Girl you fucked up’)

Leviathan💙

Wishes he could have MCs confidence, ‘how does she respond like that 0•0’

He’s reading Manga while MC just lost on the same level for the 5th time

Accidentally shifts to his demon for he got so scared

Has to whip his tail up and grab the controller before she could slam it, genuinely terrified for his well being

Once she calms down she goes to give him a hug, to help with her frustration

*PANICS* “I-I can h-help you with that level, if y-you want..”

MC watches as he beats it with ease and heaves a sigh of relief, literally such a stupid game

Gets just as offended as MC when somebody said “I went to Mexico on vacation once, what was it like growing up there?”

Will let her handle it and he’ll be her Moral Support <3

Satan💚

Loved that MC was always ready, he was like that too being the Avatar of Wrath

Is genuinely amused when MC burst out swearing because she got a bad grade, he actually thought it was hilarious

Thinks of like a game to keep up with everything she’s shouting, makes her more upset

“What the fuck are you laughing at juemadre de la-“

“You’re Hot when you’re mad, Did you know that?”

Makes her go silent immediately, why is he like this, making people wanna act up on DIAVOLO

When they’re BOTH mad at something it’s like a f*cking BOMB RAID bro

They both just keep adding more, even when Satans speaking a Demon Dialect and MC is speaking Spanish LMAOO

When an arrogant soul decides to purposely mislabel MC as Mexican, the fool needs to count his seconds with MC and Satan both getting on his ass

Asmodeus💞

Has always liked the spunk MC had, it entertained him to watch her bicker with his brothers

Surprised, but not happy AT ALL with the fact that MC could blow up like that

Gets on MC for lashing out, “MC! THIS IS TERRIBLE FOR YOUR SKIN, DO YOU WANT WRINKLES?”

Gets MC to tell him what made her loose her cool like that

“That stupid b*tch from class posted saying “That Mexican transfer student isn’t pretty enough to be this annoying”

Almost explodes as bad as MC did

“MS. GIRL SHE SAID WHAT? Lemme hop on Devilgram and end her career real quick����”

Devilgram post- Asmodeus 19:34: “Aw sweetie, Not everybody can be as gorgeous as MC and muah, but don’t go trying to drag her in the dirt with you. Filthy🥱”

No mercy on the haters💔

Beelzebub🧡

Like Asmo, found it entertaining to see MC bicker with his brothers every now and then

MC just couldn’t keep calm anymore when she messed up the recipe she was working on AGAIN

Beel becomes more concerned than scared, ‘Is she ok? :(‘

Gets up to hug MC, hoping it’ll help calm her down a bit

She explains that she kept ruining the dessert no matter how hard she tried

“MC, it’s ok to do it wrong, because it helps you learn how to do it right :)”

She’s tried again, except this time with Beel to help her :)

Gets upset when someone defaults MC as Mexican, knowing how much she hates it

He may be a teddy bear but man don’t f*ck with his Chef

Belphegor💜

Thought MC was amusing with the way she made sure everyone knew she wouldn’t take any BS

MC just happened to stub her toe while Belphie was sleeping, and now he’s awake, and heated

“What the f*ck happened?”

Is actually more concerned than upset, she wouldn’t lash out like that for no reason

When MC explains that a picture of her in the RAD Catalog still ended up being there even though she made it clear she was against it

“Oh, MC- you look good in every photo, I wouldn’t be upset about it”

Assures her it’s not a big deal and then invites her to come take a nap with him

Will mean mug the f*ck out of anyone who assumes MC is Mexican, because he finds extremely disrespectful (as it is)

Might commit homicide if they keep saying Mexican but I ain’t no snitch

+

Diavolo♥️

At first took MC as disrespectful, but learned it was only when she felt she was being disrespected (then by all means, go off)

Surprisingly, Diavolo speaks Spanish, but he still kind of struggles to keep up

He’s just laughing the whole time too, like MC isn’t furious

Later, MC calmly explains just some random student pissed her off again

“Who is this student you say? Do I need to have a chat with them as the Demon Lord of The Devildom? :)?”

Dia actually admires how passionate MC is about her home country, agrees that it’s disrespectful to mislabel someone

Because he can, Dia starts to learn about Colombian culture and throwing parties just for MC

Starts saying shit like “politas pa la rumba!” (I’ll buy beers for everyone¿) just to sound cool to MC

Barbatos💟

Barb doesn’t understand how someone could be so beautiful but so hostile sometimes, overall doesn’t really mind though

Is surprised that such things could conde from MC, kind of chuckles thinking about it

He figured he should try and step in to calm the situation

“Is there anything I can do to ease you, MC?”

It ended up being that Diavolo was completely ignoring her and brushing her aside when he never did that with Solomon

Asks if she’d like him to talk to Dia about it, since he may approach it better than she will

Barb will quietly correct anybody who believes her to be Mexican, just so MC won’t have to deal with their arrogance herself

Takes his free time and makes dishes from Colombia, or Colombian themed cookies or cupcakes to make MC happy :)

Simeon🤍

Is trying to teach MC better ways to respond to idiots, more Angelic ways

When MC blows up for the first time in front of him, the literal shock she sent him into omfg

*GASP* “MC?! WHY ARE YOU SAYING SUCH VILE THINGS?”

Like, HELLOOO? SHE DARES TO SAY SUCH THINGS IN AN ANGELS PRESENCE?

Helps to calm her down after showing distaste for her words

“You’re lips are to beautiful to speak such sinful things”

Will go on to give MC a long but kind lecture about why exploding like that is bad for her Aura and whatever

Will politely make it known that someone was wrong for assuming MC is Mexican, does get a bit irritated though

He now goes up to MC when she’s getting upset, to remind her to breathe and comfort her with a deep hug :)

“See? It’s ok MC~ just breathe in and out for me, ok? :)”

Solomon⚛️

Will piss MC off on purpose just to see her pop off, he LOVES it

Literally her #1 cheerleader when she blows up, adding on to what she’s upset about

“Period MC” “No way she said that! What a fugly b*tch” “Right, she’s just a hater”

Hypes her up all the time, even when she’s obviously in the wrong

Sol needs ALL the tea, pulls up like “who we talking shit about?”

Will get on someone’s ass just because, now think about when someone mislabels MC😳💥

Gives MC a sense of pride hearing him say “Cagué” when he messes up a potion, he obviously picked that up from her

Luke⛅️

Gets kinda (really) scared when MC becomes a little aggressive

Actually bursts out crying because he was scared MC was mas at him

MC traumatized this kid so bad, he ran to Simeon like he was getting chased be some demons

“M-m-mom is really m-mad and *sobs* I’m s-scared *sobs more*”

MC IMMEDIATELY feels super bad because she scared away his soul

Simeon, having talked to her about it already, mouthed “Apologize now.” In a very not polite manner, kinda scaring MC too🚫🧢

Has MC apologizing PROFUSELY, trying to explain it wasn’t Luke’s fault

Once he calms down, they go to bake cookies like usual, except this time he’s sniffing the whole time :( 💔

I really hope this fit what you asked for :( </3

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Ten of ??)

Aha! Finally it is done!

Hey everyone! It’s been one Monday of a week, but I finally had today (Saturday) off so I finally got to work on this update. I also thought I’d give you guys an update on my scheduling. One of the supervisor’s at work is done with her semester at college, so I’m probably not going to have a set schedule for awhile. That means the only day I know I will have off is Sunday. I usually work on writing on my day off, so updates are probably going to vary wildly from week to week. If I don’t get one out the rest of the week, you should see an update from me on Sunday (though it might be at a late hour, like this week).

Anywho, I hope you’re all doing alright and that you’re staying safe. I know I have some readers who recently had Finals Week (or whatever the equivalent of that is for you). I want to congratulate you on finishing your semester (because it is a big accomplishment), and that I hope you got high marks on your respective tests/projects/ect.

So, as always, if you’re new here, here is the link to Part One. You can also find the links to all the parts on my Master List if you’ve missed any of the other updates :)

This update was brought to you by the support of the following: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling (Seriously, thanks so much for the support you guys! I love each and every one of you!) If you’d like to be on the tags list for any future updates, please just drop a comment below or send me a message!

Satan/Mc

Word Count: 4,144

Trigger warnings: There might be some language in this one, Satan gets PISSED

“Will you just sit down Satan? You’re making me nervous,” Asmo complained, watching his brother with concern.

“Yeah. You’re totally breaking my concentration here,” Levi chimed in, not looking up from his game.

“Well, you can take your complaints to Lucifer,” Satan stated, starting what had to be his 200th pass on the same stretch of the ballroom, “I don’t know why we had to be here so early.”

“We got here ten minutes ago,” Belphie sighed, leaning on Beel, “You’re just nervous.”

“And what if I am?” Satan asked, his anxiety adding bite to the question.

“We’re all nervous,” Beel gently reminded Satan, “We’ve all missed our favorite human.”

“Not human anymore,” Mammon muttered, glaring at some undefined point in front of him, leg shaking anxiously. He had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since the night of the art show, gone most of the day, and retreating to his room when he was home.

An awkward hush fell across the group at his words, everyone’s thoughts turning inward. Satan sighed and sat down, the feathers on his boa trying their hardest to enter his mouth. The lacing on his shirt threatened to strangle him along with the collar, and his tail kept flexing around his leg. He was a bundle of nerves, and he couldn’t seem to relax. He had wanted to wear a simple suit or tuxedo, but the invitation from Diavolo had explicitly said demon forms were to be used.

A strangled but disgusted gasp escaped Asmo’s mouth, “What the hell is he doing here?!”

“Another jilted lover Asmo?” Belphie asked, rolling his eyes.

“No! It’s Michael!” Everyone’s head whipped up at that, even Levi.

“OMG! WFT?” Levi exclaimed, eyes large and worried.

“Bro, why is he here?” Mammon nearly growled, glaring at the man in question.

“I don’t know, but I want him to leave!” Asmo’s voice was getting more shrill as time went on.

“Is tha’ Lord Diavolo with ‘im?” Mammon asked, still glaring, though he wasn’t growling anymore.

“OMG, you’re right. They're laughing together too!” Levi narrated.

Beel had joined Mammon in glaring at Michael, as his twin smiled smugly, “Oh, you guys didn’t know?” Everyone looked over at that and you could tell Belphie was relishing in the shock, “Mc came with some angels. I hear Luke’s here too.”

“How can you possibly be happy about this?”

“What are you all gawking at? You all look like you’ve-” Lucifer cut off, finally seeing what his brothers were looking at. If he hadn’t already been in his demon form, Satan was fairly sure he would’ve burst into it immediately, though he didn’t look as surprised as Satan would expect him to.

“Oh.” 

The absolute contempt and disgust that dripped from that single word had all the brothers sharing looks, most very concerned. Belphie caught Satan’s eye, shooting him a sly, wicked grin. Satan wanted to share in Belphie’s enjoyment, but his mind was taking this new roadblock into account, trying to figure out how this was going to factor into his plan.

Satan didn’t really have an opinion on Michael. He had never really met the angel, his only knowledge of him coming from his shared memories with Lucifer, the little he’d heard from his brothers, and what he’d gleaned from Luke and Simeon’s conversations, not that he really cared. He simply wasn’t someone who mattered. That is, until now.

“Did you know Lucifer?” Asmo asked.

“Diavolo had told me Mc had come with two angels, though he didn’t mention names. I just assumed it was Simeon and Luke,” Lucifer was still watching Diavolo and Michael talking, though he had taken on a frigid demeanor, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. You didn’t have to be the Avatar of Wrath to sense the boiling anger underneath the frosty exterior.

Barbatos walked over to Diavolo and whispered something. The Demon Prince nodded and stood up, the congregation quieting, “Hello and welcome, each and every one of you! I’m so glad you could make it!” he voice boomed out into the 

Levi scoffed, “As if we had a choice.”

“Shaddup. Ya wanted to come jus’as much as the rest of us,” Mammon hissed.

“As most of you know, this ball is in honor of Jane Doe,”

“Wait.. Who’s that?” Beel asked, confused.

“That’s her pseudonym,” Belphie explained softly, Beel nodding his understanding.

“We have other guest’s as well, who came with Jane. Michael, the archangel,” Diavolo gestured to Michael who raised his hand in greeting with a smile, “And Luke, Jane’s older brother. You may all remember him when he was here as one of our first exchange students,” A blonde male who had been sitting by Michael inclined his head.

“Oh my gosh, that’s Luke?!” Asmo said loudly enough some nearby demons looked over.

“I didn’t even recognize him,” Levi murmured.

“Did he say brother?” Mammon asked.

“Shhhh!” Lucifer hissed as Diavolo continued.

“Now for the person you’ve all been waiting for, Jane Doe,” all the brothers held their breath as Mc walked over to Diavolo, an absolute vision. All of the brothers were transfixed, their own personal feelings overcoming everything else. Lucifer, having already seen Mc at the palace was the first to recover, looked over to Satan to see how he was doing. He was encouraged by what he saw. Satan was subconsciously touching his pocket where he knew he letter was at. Though he seemed a bit nervous, the fierce resolve in his eyes made him smile proudly, before looking back to Diavolo.

“I hope you all treat our guests with the same respect and kindness they’ll give to you. With the introductions done, let the party commence!”

“So, what’s the plan Satan?” Asmo asked, bringing the fourth born out of his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you need to talk with Mc right?” at the nod he continued, “Well, how about we help you?”

“We?” Belphie sighed, grabbing a lock of his hair.

“Yes we,” Asmo sighed, rolling his eyes.

Belphie sighed, but turned to look at Satan anyways, “Well, if I have to help, what do you need?”

“I just need to give her a letter,” Satan explained, about to tell everyone they didn’t need to bother, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Don’t you want to talk to her though?” Levi asked.

“Well, I need her to read this first. I didn’t make the best impression last time, and I don’t think I’ll be much better this time around,” Satan admitted, looking chagrined. He hadn’t told any of the brothers the entirety of what happened.

“Easy enough,” Mammon announced, getting up, “We just need to walk over and give it to her then.”

“Not so fast Mammon,” Lucifer said, motioning for him to sit, “She’s probably going to be flanked by those two angels all evening. I don’t know if they’d take well to one of us handing Lillith’s descendant a letter. Luke at least, is aware of Satan’s attachment to Mc, and last time I checked, he’s not a fan of ours. As for the other…” Lucifer trailed off, irritation twisting his features, “Who knows how that may go.”

“So we need to make sure to separate them all,” Levi mused.

“Do you have any ideas on how to do that? Like, anything from one of your anime’s?” Asmo asked.

“I mean, there’s the ‘trying to get the main character and love interest alone’, but it doesn’t always work, though it’s entertaining to watch.”

“Well, we want this to go well,” Asmo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“What about you then? Where’s your grand idea?” Levi scoffed.

“Actually, I do have an idea,” Asmo giggled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I really should’ve just done this myself,” Satan sighed, Asmo standing next to him.

“Oh, shush! This will turn out great, just wait.”

“When’s it supposed to work then? I mean, we’ve been standing here for an hour and we haven't caught a glimpse of Mc.”

“Patience, patience. Beel and Belphie… Well, Beel already has Luke distracted with food talk, and Lucifer’s doing a good job of keeping Michael… On his toes, I guess?”

“I do have to admit watching him run away from Michael is amusing,” Satan chuckled, his eyes darting to Lucifer from their perch on the balcony above the dancefloor. He was obviously fighting his pride, knowing he was running away from Michael, but unable to stay and deal with the angel who wouldn’t stop trying to find him, partially due to his pride as well. Looking back to Michael, Satan grinned, “Gotcha!”

“Wha… Oh! There she is! Told you!” Asmo nearly shouted.

“That was my ear.”

“Oop. Sorry.”

Satan watched Mc speak with Michael, noting all the small changes in her behavior. There was a level of refinement that hadn’t been there before, which made perfect sense seeing as how she had been raised in the Celestial Realm by Simeon. She was more graceful for one thing, and seemed more calm and at ease than he remembered her. She did seem more reserved and closed off than before, though that could just because she was talking with a superior. She was fairly open with me until I screwed it up, so hopefully she retained that part of herself, and hopefully I didn’t screw it up.

Asmo sighed, “Lucifer isn’t doing his job.”

“Did you really expect him to? He did say he didn’t want to be part of whatever you were planning.”

“Well, Michael chose to follow him. He was chosen. It’s fate.”

“Still doesn’t mean he’s going to actively participate.”

“Fine. Looks like I’m going to have to have Mammon and Levi do some work for us.”

“You really don’t have to do this. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, but that’s no fun. I also want to mess with Michael as much as possible.”

“Fine. What do we do next?”

“We have to get down onto the dance floor. I’m calling Mammon right now.”

They found the staircase closest to Mc and Michael and made their way down, Asmo on his DDD the whole time, “Yes… Do you see us? Oh, there you are. Do you see them? No, left… Left! Your other left! Mammon, how are you this stupid?... I’m not the one who can’t see-... No, you listen! I can’t stand that you-... How dare you! I- Ugh, fine… Yup, just distract him…” Asmo laughed, “No, though I would pay to see that. Maybe, walk past and see if he takes the bait?... Well, you’re just going to have to deal with it Levi… Look, the sooner we get this done, the sooner you can get back to your game… Wow, I thought you wanted Mc back, but I guess not. I’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t spend anytime with you… Then get your act together! Okay, Mammon, we’re close enough now. Alright, take it away.”

Satan watched as Mammon and Levi stepped out of the crowd, Mammon talking loudly enough to turn a lot of heads. Unfortunately, Michael was not one of these, though Mc seemed interested in what was going on. She seemed to ask Michael about it, but he just brushed it off, continuing to talk.

“Why does Mammon think he’s such hot stuff?” Asmo asked, rubbing his forehead.

“Don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles,” Satan gently chided.

“You’re right,” Asmo sighed, “I just don’t know how to… Whoa. Look at that.”

Satan looked to find Diavolo talking with Mc and Michael. He also spied Lucifer keeping his distance, but frowning so intensely he was surprised Diavolo couldn't feel it. Michael said something and Diavolo laughed delightedly, motioning for Mc and Michael to join him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s alone now. I’ll cover you!” Asmo hissed, pushing Satan forward.

Mc was sitting on a bench, on the outskirts of the room. She was watching the crowd with interest, eyes bright and curious. Satan hesitated, before steeling himself and walking forward, letter in hand. He was almost close enough to her to call out, when some demon approached her. Satan turned on his heel, and concealed himself in the crowd. He watched the demon extend their hand, heart sinking as he realized what that meant. She smiled and nodded her head, taking their hand as she was escorted out onto the dancefloor.

“What happened? Where’d she go?” Asmo asked, joining his brother.

“Someone asked her to dance before I got there,” Satan muttered irritably.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan looked at the time on his DDD. There was only two hours left of the ball, and he still had the letter. The past hour had been spent trying to figure out how to get Luke to leave Mc’s side without much luck. Beel had apparently gone to raid the food table and then the palace kitchen, and Belphie had fallen asleep, so Luke had found his way back to his sister and hadn’t left her side since. Worse yet, it seemed his opinion on demons was unchanged, keeping most of those that came over to talk to the artist at bay with a single look.

“He needs to leave so we can get on with this.” Asmo huffed, upset his plan was failing.

“Well, he is a chihuahua,” Levi said distractedly, “I can’t… say for certain, but he’s probably… Trying to keep her out of trouble… Woot! Got it!”

“Levi, could you stop gaming for five seconds?” Asmo sighed.

“Well, I have bad ideas, so no. You’re lucky I decided to stick around at all,” Levi huffed, eyebrows furrowed, though from the game or Asmo, Satan didn’t know.

“Oh come on! Are you really that upset by my comment?” When Levi didn’t answer, Asmo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Do you have any ideas then Levi?” Satan asked

“Not really.”

“Yo, yo, yo! Luke! What’s happenin’ my man?”

Both Mc, Luke and all three brother’s  looked over at Mammon strolling toward the duo through the crowd.

“Is he seriously…?” Levi asked.

“I think so…” Satan answered, shocked.

“How’ve ya’ been?” Mammon asked, grinning at the blonde angel.

“Fine I suppose,” Luke answered, suspicion lacing his words.

“Nice, nice. So, this is your sister?” The emphasis on the word left no interpretation of what he thought of the title.

“Yup. Of course, you can understand an angel’s definition of sibling though, don’t you Mammon?” Luke shot back.

“Oh! You’re Mammon!” Mc said suddenly, turning her full attention to Mammon “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

Mammon turned bright red, “Oh, you’ve heard of the Great Mammon?”

“Of course!” Mc beamed at him.

Mammon started stuttering, “W-W-Well, o-of course ya’ have.”

Mc giggled a bit at that, smiling at the second born, “I was actually hoping you might have some time you could spare to answer some of my questions.”

Satan was sure Mammon was going to combust, but Mc wrapped her arm around his anyways, “We’ll be back Luke.”

The blonde angel seemed like he wanted to argue, but something was holding him back, “I’ll be waiting then.” Mc nodded at him, and then walked off with Mammon.

“Wh… What just happened?” Levi nearly squealed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hear Mammon got to talk to Mc before you did.”

“Shut up Lucifer,” Satan muttered.

“Where are they?” Lucifer asked, and Satan pointed to a bench where Mc and Mammon were sitting. They seemed deep in a conversation.

“Interesting. I had to see it to believe it.”

“What’ve you been doing this whole time?”

“I’ve been… walking around…”

“Hiding from Michael.”

“That would imply I’m scared of him.”

“MmmmHmmm.”

“I do not fear Michael.”

“Good to hear, since he’s coming this way.”

Lucifer instantly started walking forward, stopping by some random succubus, “Hello, Jezebel. Would you like to dance?” Lucifer asked, barely waiting for a response before dragging her out onto the dance floor.

Satan was still chuckling, Lucifer’s discomfort making his misfortune seem better, when a male voice he remembered from memory but had never actually heard addressed him, “Are you Satan, Lucifer’s… son?”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Excuse me?”

“That is you right? Or do you prefer something different? Spawn of Lucifer?” Michael cocked his head a bit, seeming a little confused.

Some rational part of Satan’s brain was the only thing keeping him from jumping on the angel and ripping him to shreds. He couldn’t keep the growl from his voice as he responded, “I am Satan, THE Avatar of WRATH.”

“Oh, I seem to have hit a nerve. My apologies,” Michael said, actually bowing. Satan narrowed his eyes, tail flexing around his leg. Has he always been this stupid? Or is he mocking me?

“I was wondering if we could speak. Privately,” Michael said, his smile showing he knew he’d said something wrong.

“Anything you want to say you can say here, Michael.”

“I do think it would be better for us to speak privately,” Satan could feel Michael’s irritation building a bit.

“Why? So you can try to hurt my brother’s again by killing another of their siblings?”

The shock on Michael’s face satiated Satan’s anger enough that he almost laughed at it. Michael quickly put on a blank look, but Satan could hear the sorrow in his voice, “Though it is always unfortunate when an angel dies, I do not regret any of my actions. When someone goes against what they know to be right, there will always be consequences.”

“Of course. Always the errand boy, blindly doing whatever it is you’re told to do.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even around to know her. I’m not sure what lies you’ve been fed-”

“I was there, you imbecile,” Satan seethed, “I saw how your actions helped push Lucifer towards rebellion, knowingly or not, and how you stabbed him in the back once he was finally there. I remember them, and I find your actions to be deplorable.”

“Now listen here, you demon-”

“Oh, I’m the demon here?! Shall I describe, in detail, how you-”

“Everythin’ cool here?” Mammon came up next to Satan, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

Satan whipped his head to look at Mammon, confirming that, yes, Mammon had heard what Michael had said.

“Ah, Mammon. It’s been awhile.”

Mammon looked over at Michael, his disgust thinly veiled, “Yeah, sure.”

“I would like to talk with your… brother, but he doesn’t seem to want to.”

“Good fer him. Tah be honest with ya’, I don’ trust ya’ Michael. I didn’ up in the Celestial Realm, and I don’ now. If ya’ wanna’ talk with Satan, I suggest ya’ do it where we can all see ya’.”

Satan felt two hands on his shoulders, and looked back to see both Beel and Belphie standing behind him. Neither one of them looked very happy, but Beel’s look was a lot more intense than Belphie’s.

Michael sighed, especially after seeing the twins, “If you’re not going to allow me to explain, I can only tell you this: It is imperative she not remember her past. It will hurt both of you more than you could ever know. Now, I have things to do, if you’ll excuse me,” and with that, he left.

“I really don’ like that guy,” Mammon shook his head, “Oh, Satan, hol’ on a sec. Imma be right back,” and with that, he took off.

“You okay Satan?” Beel asked, still frowning after Michael.

“Yeah, things just got a bit intense there for a second. Thanks.”

“I don’t think your thanks is going to stop here. We’re going to leave you now. Have fun,” Belphie smirked before wandering off with Beel.

Satan shook his head at all the weirdness happening around him, before resuming his place along the wall. He didn’t know how things had escalated that quickly with Michael, especially considering the guy had never done anything to him personally. Yeah, he had all the memories of Lucifer being angry at him, and he had hurt his brother’s, but he had never had any personal problems with him. Well, a lot of Lucifer’s anger started because of Michael, and that’s what I was born from… The small voice in the back of his head started acting up, though he often tried to keep it quiet, You’re more like Lucifer then you want to admit.

He growled a bit at the voice, before starting to wander around. People watching always helped calm him down. It was one of the things he had done in his early life to help him learn how to interact with others, at Asmo’s suggestion. He always found something new to store away in his brain, and the problem solving helped calm his brain.

“There ya’ are! We’ve been lookin’ for ya’.”

We? Satan turned to Mammon to see Mc standing next to him. Satan froze, having not prepared himself to talk to her.

“She asked me ta dance, but cha know I’m more of a solo dancer myself, so I was wondering if you would for me?”

“I… Uhhh… Yes, if she would like,” Satan finally managed to get out, watching Mc for any negative reactions.

“I have no problems with it,” Mc answered cryptically, nothing in her tone or mannerisms betraying how she actually felt about the suggested change.

“Uh… Perfect, I guess. Have fun you two,” Mammon announced before walking off.

I could both hug him and punch him, Satan thought, though what came out of his mouth was, “Well, may I have this dance?” while extending his hand to her.

A smile graced her lips, “You certain may.”

He led her out onto the dance floor, still lightly holding her hand. He was still nervous, but not like he was the last time they’d met. He let his mask start to slip when he faced her, “I’m very glad you accepted my invitation to dance,” he slipped his hand to its proper place for the waltz as the music started.

“It’s my pleasure,” She smiled, though not as warmly as he would’ve hoped. They started dancing effortlessly, Satan extremely happy they were still in sync. If only the conversation flowed as easily. Satan spent the first full minute of the dance just trying to figure out what to say to her, also trying not to think about how beautiful she looked.

Finally, he figured out something neutral to say, “Have you been enjoying the Devildom?”

“Yes, I have, thank you for asking.”

“What’s been your favorite part?”

Mc took a minute to think, “I would have to say… Sightseeing. There’s a lot here I could have never imagined existing in the Celestial Realm.”

“Ah. Have you visited the Royal Library yet?”

“I have actually. I’ve been researching for my next art project.”

“You’re working on a new art project?”

“Yes. I feel rather inspired here.”

“I look forward to seeing it. Are you planning on showing it in the Devildom?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Good. We need new art down here,” Satan said before the conversation lapsed back into silence. It was towards the end of the song that Satan decided to bring up the elephant in the room, “I’ve ummm… Been hoping I would see you again.”

“As have I.”

“You have?” he asked, extremely surprised.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to figure out why you acted the way you did.”

Oh.

“I apologize for that. I… Well, I actually wrote you a letter to explain it. I know my behavior was… off to say the least. I’ve been going through a lot lately, and I apologize that it negatively affected my behavior towards you.”

“You wrote me a letter?”

“Yes. I find I can express myself far better and with far more accuracy by writing than by talking.”

“Ah. Do… Do you have that letter with you?” Her voice was small when she asked.

“I do. I was planning to give it to you tonight anyways.”

“You were?”

“Oh, I said that out loud didn’t I?” Mc giggled at that and Satan felt better, the mask slipping even more, “I’ve been trying to find a good time to give it to you all night actually.”

“Really?” Her smile was curious and a bit teasing.

“Er, yeah. I hope you’re okay with that.”

“I think that’s alright,” Mc smiled, finally seeming at ease around him.

The song ended then, and Satan reached into his back pocket to produce the letter, “Here it is.”

“I’ll make sure to read it,” Mc promised, reaching for the letter. Their fingers brushed when she went to grab it, and they both blushed at the contact, “Well, I’m going to go find Luke. Thank you for the dance.”

“No, thank you,” Satan said sincerely, smiling softly.

She smiled back, and with that she was gone.

“Heh. You owe me don’ cha’,” Mammon’s voice came from behind him, sounding pretty smug.

“I’d say you’ve made up for not telling me she was in town.”

“I’ll take it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey you guys, a couple more things:

First off, I have passed the 100 follower mark, and I was wondering if you guys wanted me to do anything for it.

Second: I was wondering how you guys ran across this fic. If you wanna comment down below and just let me know. I’m really wondering how my work’s being spread, so if you could do that, I’d appreciate it!

~As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated (I always read everything you guys write in the comments and reblogs)

Part Eleven

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

It’s been awhile since I truly ranted about my clueless boomer father. it’s absolutely not because he’s been less awful. in fact he’s been so overly awful that I’ve not had the energy to really type out an entire vent post. 

Let’s rectify that! (Disclaimer: this shit is LONG)

So those of you who aren’t new round these parts are well versed in how clueless and selfish my “I’m not like other boomers” (def is) father. You might also know how introverted I am.

Now that word gets tossed around a lot by people who just enjoy their own company or enjoy socializing but need time to recharge, and that’s all well and good. But my personal introversion is much more... serious. Like, I can socialize but it’s draining pretty quickly, save a few people who don’t suck the life out of me because they arent work to hang out with and dont require me to entertain them. I need more recharge time than socializing time by a significant margin. Last summer my father went on vacation for a week (Bailey stayed with grandma) and during that week I didn’t verbally speak to a single fucking soul except when The Spawn (who didn’t live here at the time) came by for something. Best week of my fucking life. 

The less I’m able to recharge, the more unpleasant I become. This is important. 

So we all know that my father likes to claim a lot of things are that clearly bullshit. Among those things is the claim that he doesn’t need friends or socialization because he’s “like me” and the claim that he respects my space and need for down time. these things aren’t true. at all. Let’s look at why I saw that...

This man insists on telling me every small annoyance that happens through his day. Every single fucking day I have to hear (and read texts) repeatedly about how ignorant his coworkers are, the amount of unmasked people at stores/gas stations, & just generally self absorbed people he encounters. EVERY DAY. He clearly needs someone to socialize with. 

He will also just walk into my living room and plop down. Then he starts fucking talking or bitching at the dogs for jumping around on him. If I am watching something, he starts asking questions/commenting on whatever I’m watching. If I’m wearing headphones (which are massive and cover my ENTIRE EAR very obviously) he will stare at me and start talking until I pull my headphones off and say “What?! What is so fucking urgent?!” 

I’ve been getting progressively more short with him. I don’t answer texts that aren’t actually about something. When he interrupts me for something I KNOW will be frivolous bullshit, I exaggeratedly huff, then either rip off my headphones or pointedly pause what I’m watching and say “WHAT?! What do you need?!” If he’s bitching about the dogs playing on the couch while he tries to sit on it (which they do to me CONSTANTLY btw and I just make it work) I snap at him to just move to the fucking chair or shut up. If he goes to bitch about a coworker or people he encounters while out, I just say, “You already told me about this.” in and incredibly short tone, to which he responds “Well I wanted to make sure.” in a huffy tone. 

His most recent two days have really taken the fucking cake. 

So The Spawn frequently goes up to see her godfather, D, in Colorado over school breaks. He usually puts her on a plane or comes to get her, but with her having a car, she’s decided to take a friend with her and have her first Big Girl road Trip. She will be gone a little overr a week and she, the friend, D, and I all meticulously planned it out. My father comes in day before yesterday and says, “Hey do you want me to take vacation time while The Spawn is gone so I can be here?” I look deeply confused, “Why the fuck would you do that?” his response: “Well, I didn’t know if you’d need someone here to help with the dogs during the day while she’s gone.” 

Y’all I nearly died laughing. “Her not being here changes literally NOTHING about how the dogs are handled during the day. When she is here, she is in her room. It’s really funny that you think I have help during the day considering how often I’ve bitched about the fact that I take care of the dogs that aren’t mine far too much.” 

Then yesterday, I had spent the day employing my general tactics to discourage him from harassing me with useless bullshit. At some point, I cut him off from talking AGAIN about “ignorant, maskless, redneck gatherings at the gas station” by saying, “YES YOU TOLD ME AT LEAST 3 FUCKING TIMES. I GET IT. PEOPLE DON’T WEAR MASKS AND IT PISSES YOU OFF. IT’S BEEN A FUCKING YEAR. DEAL WITH IT. Why in the fuck do you insist on telling me this crap?” This fucking idiot laughed and said “I need to vent to someone.” I then told him to get a fucking friend or get a fucking therapist but I am not here for him to fucking vent to. 

At the end of last night I finally lost it. I blew up on him about how I have zero privacy, nobody fucking respects my space or my need to recharge my social batteries, so I’m just constantly running on empty which means I’m getting progressively more unpleasant and frankly downright mean. Near the end I said “I’m sorry but...” and intended to tell him EXACTLY what he is doing that is causing this shit but true to fucking form, this motherfucker INTERRUPTS ME and says  “Oh I never take any of this personally. no apology needed. goodnight.” and goes up to bed. 

YOU SHOULD TAKE IT PERSONALLY YOU STUPID PIECE OF SELF ABSORBED SHIT!!!! YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!! MY NEARLY 17 YEAR OLD CHILD HAS MORE AWARENESS OF MY NEED TO RECHARGE AND NOT BE AROUND PEOPLE CONSTANTLY THAN YOU DO DESPITE ME TELLING YOU ABOUT MY NEEDS IN VERY PLAIN LANGUAGE THAT A FUCKING 5 YEAR OLD COULD UNDERSTAND!!! 

LEAVE.   ME.   THE.   FUCK.   ALONE.  unless the subject of what you want to talk about impacts me directly in some way or i INVITE YOU into a conversation. I don’t vent to him unless it impacts him or the household... so why the fuck can’t he show the same courtesy? Also that whole “respect your space and not invade it” thing... on the rare occasion that he doesn’t just invite himself in and plop down in my space expecting my fucking attention, he will HOVER in the ‘doorway’ to my rooms until I acknowledge his presence, at which point he takes as an invitation. I’ve done an experiment. If I ignore the hovering, he will stand there up to 30 mins, at which point he will ask me a question and when I answer he takes it as an invitation. Like, I know my living room and BEDROOM don’t have doors but that doesn’t mean you have an open invite to just come into them whenever. You want to pet your dog but she’s on my bed? Call her. She’ll come over to you. Want to watch something with me? ASK and then, if I say yes, don’t fucking talk to me. I agreed to watch something, not have a fucking conversation. 

oh but directly telling him any of this doesn’t work because he “doesn’t take any of this personally.” Ok, it’s one thing to not take it personally when I snap at you because I’m in an astronomical amount of pain that day and accidentally snapped. When that happens, I apologize and explain. but if I don’t mention my pain, apologize, or explain then YOU ARE THE REASON IM SNAPPING YOU STUPID FUCK. 

end rant. if you read this whole thing, my condolences on the wasted time. I don’t want/need advice. I’m handling the situation the best I can in my current position. Part of that handling is that while The Spawn is gone, I’m going to do a few days where I’m here for the dogs, then when dad gets off work, J scoops me for the night, then drops me back off in the morning on his way in. He is one of those lovely people that isn’t a drain and if we are sitting in the same room, considers it spending time together. Most times, I lay on his furniture at an awkward looking but comfy angle reading a book while he games. We chat a bit during breaks or when I see him ready to throw the controller at the TV (looking at you Witcher 3...) so that will be lovely. 

as always, don’t steal my shit for your blog, article, youtube, just because you’re boring and fucking lazy. Shoo! Scat! 

[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.”

[claudiafernandez96]

the pickup || claudia & jude

Discord thread featuring: claudia & @judetaylorhq

When: early morning Feb 27, 2020

Mentions: @cilliankelly

Description: jude surprised claudia by picking her up from work. claudia and jude make up. 

TW: addiciton

Claudia.

Claudia took her time to get out of work. She even offered to stay and close. She had found that working and painting were the only two things that keep her stay distracted from using anything. She still had the itch, of course, and part of her believed that another relapse was just around the corner. BUT There was another small part of her that actually believed she was going to get better this time. Claudia put her winter coat on and headed out the front doors to hail a cab. She stopped before she could get to the curb when she saw Jude standing at the edge of the curb. She gasped because she was genuinely surprised to see him. “What the hell, Jude?”

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude had never really been a patient guy, when he wanted something done he was a go and do it himself kind of guy. He didn't like to wait around and hope for things, hope had always been dangerous for him, he'd rather just know, and get things done, then have to wait. This situation with Claudia wasn't any different. He'd been thinking about her constantly, thinking about how much he missed being her friend, after all, that was why he had fallen in love with her in the first place, she was his friend, she meant a lot to him, she was important, that was a big part of why he felt so impacted by her all the time. When he felt betrayed by her, it only showed how important she was to him. He'd screwed up too though, he knew that, and after days of thinking it over, he knew it was time to fix things. To support her the way he kept saying he'd always wanted to, now that she was actually willing to accept some kind of help. He'd parked his truck and climbed out, waiting for her with his arms crossed over his chest and letting out a sigh when she confronted him, "Come on...I'm taking you home." He spoke firmly, holding out a hand to her.

Claudia.

There were a lot of things going through Claudia’s mind at she stared at Jude’s hand. Part of her wanted to scream, cry, and just run away. She wanted to just forget that he ever existed. It’d be easier that way, right? But it seemed like that wasn’t going to be possible. There was too much history between them. They’d been through so much together, that leaving each other now for good didn’t seem like something that was even possible. Clearly. There was also another part of Claudia that wanted to just pull him into a big bear hug and cry into his shoulder. He was always so good at that — Just holding her and letting her cry. She’d been doing a lot of crying lately, and having Jude around to comfort her was actually something that she thought she needed at this point. Claudia’s green eyes stared blankly at his hand for a few moments until she finally decided to take his hand and get into the car. She’s already regretted this decision, but part of her really did want to hear what Jude had to say. She just knew she had to keep her guard up, and she knew Jude might have been doing that exact same thing too.

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude was surprised when Claudia took his head, she was stubborn, it was something he often admired about her, but he was glad when she did, they'd already taken a big step towards fixing things but her even getting into his truck and he helped her in before he climbed into his side and started it up. He'd pulled away from the curb before he spoke, formulating and reformulating his thoughts over and over again until he finally spat out the words. "Fuck, Claudia. How'd we get here?" He spoke quietly, calming, unable to glance over at her, afraid he'd lose it if he did. "I mean, fuck. You know how important you are to me...you have to know that."

Claudia.

Claudia pressed her forehead to the cold glass window like she was in a dramatic 2000s music video. She heard him get into the car, but didn’t make eye contact - she just kept her eyes on the passing city. She waited for what seemed like several minutes, which, in reality was probably only a few brief moments. The artist wasn’t expecting him to be so blunt right off the bat like that. She took a deep breath and turned towards her ex. She had been in the passenger seat of this car, looking at him from the angle countless times. This felt so different. He was right - how the fuck did they get here? “I thought I did, Jude.” She glanced at his side profile. Claudia honestly couldn’t even remember half the things she was mad at him about before. “I just...I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that im pissed off.” She confessed, switching her gaze back towards the window.

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude nodded, he was pissed off too, but for different reasons he was sure, still, angry wasn't a new emotion for them, they both seemed to thrive off angry, righteous or otherwise. "I'm pissed off too." He spoke argumentatively, shaking his head as he drove, "I'm pissed off about...everything. I'm pissed off that I still give a fuck about you, I'm pissed off that you never took my help, I'm pissed off that you still...fucking..have a hold on me. I'm pissed that you lied to me." He groaned, he hadn't wanted to be combative for this conversation, but he had a lot to say apparently. "I just...there's nothing I want to see more than you better, but...fuck I'm angry, Claudia."

Claudia.

Claudia shifted her gaze to the road in front of them. She felt her chest tighten when Jude told her the way that he felt. She knew all of this, but it somehow still hurt like she was hearing this all for the first time. She knew she fucked up. She knew she’d hurt him more than she ever had before. She was surprised that he was still even entertaining the mere idea of Claudia’s presence. But when he told her that she somehow still had a hold on him, it started to make a little bit more sense. “Then what do you want from Jude? I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I said a lot of hurtful shit when I was mad, but I genuinely don’t know what else you could possibly want from me. I thought you wanted me to leave you alone so I did.” She then turned to look at his side profile again. “But then you show up here and have me confused as fuck.” She raised her voice a little so that she was stern, but she wasn’t exactly yelling at him either. Even though she wanted to.

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude sighed, his eyes still on the road, unable to glance at her and risk losing it completely, he'd always said that being around Claudia clouded his judgment, and that still held true. He was at risk of forgetting all the reasons he was upset and melting into her eyes if he looked at her now, before he'd managed to say everything he needed to say. "I just want my friend back." He spoke gently, "Before I fucked it up, before I got insecure about you and Cillian. I feel like shit about not being here for you, you deserved better than that, Claudia. You deserved more, and I let you down. But you....you know why...why it's so hard for me to...watch you do this over and over again."

Claudia.

Claudia knew that she would always love Jude. She never stopped loving him, even when they broke up. Part of her didn't want to keep Jude around to watch her inevitable downfall again. Or at least that downfall that she assumed was going to be inevitable. She knew that that was a bad way to go into recovery...but she'd been here before. They've been here before. Jude more so than Claudia with his mom. She loved Jude, so did she really want to bring him into this? She should just let him go, right? So that he could live happily ever after with the person whom she used to consider one of her best friends. There was another part of Claudia that desperately needed Jude to get through this though. She knew for a fact that there was no way she was staying clean with Jude by her side. Claudia watched his side profile as he spoke, wishing he'd turn to her so that she could read the emotion on his face. "I know...I'm sorry. I understand...I understand why you said what you said. I don't know why I would expect you to expect anything else from me. I'm sorry."

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

"I expect things from you because I want better from you, Claudia." He sighed, "Fuck, Claude." He was trying to keep it together, but everything about this made him want to fall apart, but more than anything he wanted to fix it. He hadn't been lying when he said they needed her, maybe he'd just mistaken the context at the time. They did need her in their lives, she was like family to them. She was their best friend, and losing her had felt like something was missing. "How do I tell you I love you without giving you part of me that you might fuck over again?" He finally did glance at her, "Because I do, and maybe not in the way you want me to, maybe not in the way you need me to, but fuck Claudia...if I lose you again i'm going to go insane."

Claudia.

It didn't take Claudia a long time to start crying as soon as their eyes met. She felt heavy tears slide down her cheeks almost instantly. That hurt. It hurt like hell to know that Claudia had made him feel this way. She had done this to him. She had spent so long blaming Jude for something that he was doing just to protect himself from her. "I'm sorry...Jude, I miss y-you like hell. I'm so sorry that I did this to you...All you've ever done is protect me and care about me, and I have had a really shit way of showing you how much I c-car...well, love you." He deserved so much better than her. "And I'm sorry for blaming you for this when it was my own fucking fault."

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude sighed, "No...that's just it. It's not all your fault. We all fucked up, because we're all fucked up. When we get upset we fuck up each other and I'm tired of that, you know? Like, why is it that we do that?" He sighed, Cillian and himself had somehow figured out how to work past that, they loved each other and managed to actually talk through things now, not like before, surely there had to be a way to do that with Claudia, to get past bullshit and to the heart of the matter. "I left you when you needed me most. I just thought if we weren't sleeping together you'd leave me. You'd leave us, and I was scared of that, and I let you believe something that wasn't true and fuck if that wasn't shitty of me. But I'm sorry, fuck I'm so sorry. I'll do better for you next time, Claudia, I swear."

Claudia.

This moment almost didn't seem real. It almost seemed like a vivid dream. She never thought that her and Jude would have this conversation. Claudia nodded her head slowly. "I don't want to fuck you up anymore. It's exhausting." Jude was right. Claudia did need him. Claudia didn't have a dad to call to when she needed help fixing the clogged sink, or how to do your taxes. Jude protected her and loved her the way that family would. He stuck by her the way that family would love each other unconditionally, even through all of their bullshit. "I'll do better too, Jude. I promise." She told him, wiping the thick tears that were ruining her makeup away. "And I won't leave you, okay? N-not again."

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude let out a breath, feeling a sense of relief as he listened to Claudia speak, somehow knowing they'd be okay, at least they were talking, and that meant they could get through this together. "Fuck." He spoke quietly, reaching over and taking her hand, giving it a squeeze, "I want to be here for you. Even if we all fuck up again, I just want us to be here, together. We need each other. You know? He misses you like hell, and fuck I miss you too. You get us. We might be the only people in the world who understand each other." He pulled up outside her apartment and turned to her, "You deserve the best, you know that? I know I've not made you feel that, but I mean it. You deserve to be happy and get better and just..fuck...don't look at me like that." He laughed quietly, "You'll make my head foggy..."

Claudia.

Claudia finally smiled softly at him when she told him that she'd make his head all foggy. She squeezed his hand tightly and manage to let out a tiny laugh. She leaned over the center console once they were safely pulled over to the side of the road for a big hug, one she had been needing for a very long time now. She actually felt confident that she'd be able to get through recovery with Cillian and Jude by her side. Like they gave her some kind of super power or something. "I missed you both, too." She said into his shoulder, still holding onto him tightly for a long awaited embrace. "So much." Her heart suddenly felt full for the first time in a really long time.

𝑗𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟.

Jude nodded, smiling again when she did and pulling her close, hugging her tight and burying his face into her neck, "I mean it, I don't want to fight again." He whispered, finally pulling back a little misty eyed, "Fuck, we missed you too. We haven't done anything reckless sin god knows how long and honestly I think Cillian's starting to die inside." He teased, sure they'd actually been enjoying domestication but having Claudia around really did make them both happy, she brought a lightness to them that they sometimes missed with how intense their relationship could be. "Don't be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, lean on me. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere ever again." He promised, pulling back and pushing his door open, "Come on, let me walk you to your door."

[abbeyfangirl]

dragon age: all characters (companions)

I’ve been in this fandom for a hot minute now and I want to update my opinions on characters :)

Origins

Alistair: super sweet dude who literally is not the stereotypicalchantryguyfightme. He’s a great example of healthy masculinity and I totally wish he was bi because I have an entire essay on that— also: he’s a poc! His mum was brown. In game he’s got dark features. if you really want a blond/blue-eyes/white guy, make your warden that. or accept that brown people can be noble and moral. or just draw cailan, idk. just because BioWare whitewashes doesn’t mean you should.

Leliana: someone hug my singing girlfriend before I crush her under with my own hugs. Also: nugs. Yes! Shoes. Yes! She likes how I style my hair? YES!! I honestly think she’s super duper and it pisses me off whenever someone’s like: yeah she enjoys killing people and the Game. ok. and michel de chevin willingly participated in genocidal marches through the alienage he grew up in with his elvhen mum. 

Morrigan: dirty swamp witch that i stan and also have a v big crush on. tiddies. Have a son with a GW so we can raise him with our tiddies out in the forest. she’s also white-passing, as her father was chasind and all people we’ve seen that are chasind are black. therefore, she is biracial. therefore, poc can be goths and don’t shy away from giving morrigan a darker skintone. if the devs had of been thinking, she’d have a darker skintone.

Zevran: Actually is the best romance, I think. Loves consent, therefore I will stan him so hard my skull cracks a little. Also: he is a very brown boy and if he’s white in da4 I’m seriously going to throw all canon out the fucking window. genuinely a good person who needs to be told so. 

Wynne: grandma who only likes my friends who go to church. but also super sweet and I’d rest my head on her bosom (in a platonic way omg ZEVRAN)

Sten: angry quiet boi. the bestest boi. I totally would give him a kitten for a gift and bake him cookies. Thicc softie. I think if I had DA:O and i knew how to use mods i would mod the fuck outta him. sorry.

Sha(y)le: who’s gender? idk her. See also: fuck birds and authority. pound ur ass into the ground you feathery meatbag little shits. fuck songbirds.

Dog: such a good boi. thicc. thinks Alistair is a whiny fuck and is Morrigan’s only friend. love him. he’s the cutest companion. bet.

Ohgren: honestly forgot about him bcc he’s such a shitbag. also: he could’ve been a really cool addiction recovery type but NOPE. probably would have a trump shirt in a modern au and would catcall wlw and hit mlm. no thanks.

Awakening

Anders: he acts like rlly straight but he’s so gay I can smell it. also he’s rlly cute and fun and I love him so much.

Justice: MAYBE i’M selF CONSCious OF THE twitchING. is the friend that genuinely doesn’t get dick jokes but is ur 110% ride or die.

Nathaniel Howe: honestly is sort of a white knight/neck beard a little, but it’s kind of charming with his whole velanna m’lady?? grump boi. annoying soul patch that I’d mod out SO FAST—

Sigrun: would have ROMANCED the FUCK out of her. why she even entertains the idea of fucking with ohgren makes me realize most of the writers are dumbfucks.png. peppy little emo. 12/10 would die if she kissed my cheek teasingly.

Ohgren: why. why. why. I’d have brought Shayle over. Maybe Zev? Definitely Dog.

Velanna: she was written to be an annoying feminist and you can tell but I deadass am a kindred spirit with her bcc I too am deadpan annoyed with Thedas’ general population too. love her. Would’ve loved to romance her. She’d totally be one of those who’d get all tsundere and be like “n-no i hate you” *kisses the fuckin soul out of you then blushes so hard she’s now a tomato*

Dragon Age II

Anders: fuck the cops. i don’t care. fuck the cops. (vine reference). also: do i hate him for blowing up the chantry that would eventually annul a huge collection of his people? no. read dalishious’s meta on Anders. v intriguing. didn’t they retcon the fuck out of the reported deaths too? like there was like eight Templars and Elthinia in there. Templars killed more “abominations” in a day than Anders in the game canon—

Aveline: initially thought she was fine and then realized she’s shit to my lil brother and I will fucking clap her ginger ass. See also: whorephobia isn’t a joke so fuck off with treating Isabela badly, you tit.

Bethany: sunshine. Literal sunshine. I feel my freckles grow in her presence and i love it. she’s my little baby sister and I’d slam that ogre so fuckin hard before it touched either twin.

Carver: there has to be a mod where both twins survive. I love them both to bits. My babies. carver is my bitter, angry little brother and I can relate because I too am very angry and would totally clap my own ass. hes so genuine and I don’t get the competition between Beth and Carver. Like, both are fuckin stellar in different ways. In this essay I will—

Fenris: honestly, I don’t get the general hate between him and Anders. Fenris’ main arc should’ve been a recovery arc, not drunken moping and revenge. he deserves better. give him a soft sweater instead of his spikes and let him love himself as much as I love him for MAKERS SAKE. like when you really think about their relationship, it could’ve been an eye-opener for fenris and finally some legit sympathy for anders. but we all know that if they had of teamed up that Meredith would’ve been dead before the end of Act 1 so.

Isabela: whorephobia is not a joke. oversexualizing your only appearing brown woman is so poorly written. how about we appreciate her and her lovely bosoms but also let people tease her about her heart of gold? her innate understanding of freedom? instead of just a wave of dick? please?? can we give her some pants for when she fights? can we accept that i fall for rogues who hate themselves?? fuck. also whomever draws her x femHawke x Merrill literally is after my own heart.

Merrill: my fucking babygirl MARRY ME. Fenris could’ve been her older brother type, but NO. she and Isabela should’ve been canonical gfs instead of Isabela/Fenris (no shaming the pairing tho!!). I love how she’s written as neurodivergent. V nice. Sometimes I just look her up and cry because she’s fucking everything. Also: she’s in the Dalish origin and she’s far from being white. Why did they make the most innocent/naïve character really white? hmmmm.

Sebastian: whew that boy. Would totally be that annoying Mormon at your door but you still let him in bcc he’s super sweet. Also: huge ass bible thumper and should get his head slap because you said the maker loved all his children why do you defend a complicit old hag you annoying attractive fuck—

Varric: totally is a bard and the devs couldn’t handle the idea of him being one bcc it might make him look less straight. is the only grey morality person I don’t want to fucking bash in with a fry pan. he sees people and I like that, but you totally know he’s siding with mages every time bcc him and Anders are like besties. I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules. “Professional Younger Brother”.

Tallis: I know nothing about her but she seems okay. I think she was an escaped slave and honestly? Fucking props. Spy on a shitting organization, idk what you’re doing, but your VA was that cool lesbian from SPN so I think ur okay?

Inquisition

Blackwall: Redemption Arc 101. Love him to bits. Sad dad bunwall. good man. actually atoned for his sins by actively becoming a good person. his initial design is 80% hotter im so sorry but so not.

Cassandra: was way browner in the last game. would romance the fuck outta her. I love me a butch lady who melts at my dorky recitation of poetry. BioWare is a coward. also is the worst choice for divine. but not a bad person. could use some more guidance or get her ass whipped by a dalish elf about religion or a circle mage kid whos like “yeah bud i didn’t ask for the templars to whip my ass everyday for existing.”

The Iron Bull: I think the Qunari/Vashoth were a little based off black people (the whole anti blackness thing where ppl are scared of them bcc of whatever reason) and it pisses me off that he had a weird ass dubcon thing with Dorian in banter. It doesn’t make sense— he’s an A+++ dom and would not jump straight in role play without at least checking in at first like wtf BioWare.

Cole: his mother was chasind so he’s like not supposed to be that white? or like biracial? albino? idk. love him to bits tho. He’s neurodivergent and I deadass love him. romancing him? idk. I see why ppl think it’s fuckin nasty but also like as a writer I’d age him the fuck up so fast before my inquisitor even THOUGHT about that. like idk. I’m down with him being a sweet little bro character tho. he’s a babe. love him.

Sera: had the worst fucking writer I’ve ever seen and I willingly read the twilight saga twice by a shit ass racist white lady who okay’d pedophilia. like. Fuck you Kristjanson suck your own dick you fuck. had the worst options in regards to speak to her. has a thicc case of internalized racism that literally most of the fandom just loves to use against her. my lesbian neurodivergent queen. Would write a thousand fix it fics for her. Love her to bits. im gay.

Varric: I haven’t played DA2 so i don’t get why everyone wants to romance him but like. a dwarf romance? yes please. Idk he reminds me of my uncle so I only see him as fun uncle material. Deadass should adopt Cole and Merrill and co parent with Blackwall for Sera. dads? fuck yeah. love me some wholesome, present fathers.

Dorian: is a gay stereotype that I love/hate so much. and he’s also just as bad about being a creep bcc he sexualizes qunari men (in banter). I attribute that to shit writing tho. I want to protect him from all the “omg gay best friend!” people. he’d clearly be that tired gay that wouldn’t give a diddly damn about ur het romance. wanna talk about politics? he’s ur guy/gay.

Solas: “me, an intellectual:”. I don’t hate him, but I’m not about him. He comes off as mysterious and suave (which he totally is) but I deadass would not save him from himself because he’s a racist, exclusionist eggshell. idk. not my cup of tea, but I can totally see the appeal. And he’s interesting, I’ll totally say that. “I think the Dalish are garbage but they made you” is not a compliment. it’s so offensive. and such bait for “quirky girls” which I’m no fan of. Would be Achilles and let Patroclus (Lavellan in his case) die before he realized how his pride is literally a waste of time. If he gets a redemption arc I hope Lavellan gets to slap him before getting him to teach all about ancient Arlathan and show that the Evanuris weren’t all total dicknozzles. (Aka I really have a hard time believing that they’d be slavery cult things. especially since they’ve compared elves to indigenous ppl, Jews and the Romani.)

Vivienne: it’s so racist that they’d make a black woman be pro-slavery. That’s such internalized racism. She could’ve been the cool ass “educate yourself first before you speak, fool” ice lady, but NO. the devs could’ve kept the “Templars are a tool that I proudly can mandate” and the “circles are very good education” and we. Could. Have. Romanced. Her. Like. Fuck. Sake. I just wanna give her a hug and say “love yourself omg!!” and not even in a romantic way. Also: she and morrigan should not have been so antagonistic towards each other. I’d expect them to have great respect for each other, as they both moved up in the world through hardwork and very little help. They could learn different magic from each other too and still maintain that rival respect “oh you” mood. Sidenote: probably the cooler option for Divine. if her approval is high enough she’ll love and be loyal to you forever and i can’t see her agenda being bad. she improves the circles exponentially and tells all the antis to suck her pretty painted toes.

Josephine: an actual disney princess. romanced her my first playthrough. I love her so much. she just makes me so happy. And she’s like: “Integrity, Loyalty, peace. That is what it means to be a GREY WARDEN good fucking person.” she’s the person who would let you hold her hand if you got anxious and she’d be that person who shouldered the whole group project with finesse and poise and would probably lie for everyone as to not be mean. i love josie. her and leliana’s relationship is so cute, too. whether it’s romantic or not: women supporting women.

Leliana: if you leave her hardened you must hate her. why. she becomes so against herself. i like how shes feminine and lighthearted because that’s so powerful-- to remain hopeful when the world is hopeless. (its hard to know when to soften her/harden her so i get it but. google it. she deserves to be happy and sweet again.)

Cullen: uwu war criminal with shit ass “redemption arc” that was actually a half-assed (at BEST) recovery arc. Recovery isn’t linear, it isn’t pretty, and even the broken need to be told they are wrong in order to heal right. Like I’m offended by that bullshit. I’ve had to do some mental health recovery in the past and unlearning lots of toxic ideologies— which I’m still unlearning— and it bothers me that he gets an easy pass because he’s hot. It’s one thing if you like Cullen, it’s another thing if you hold him accountable.