#but these are very quick and not detailed

[smir7]

If 5000 people donated just 1$ each, it can save my career and life

Im an artist and I'll draw everyone who donates to me even if its 1$

Hi guys,

Im smir im an 18 year old University student i live alone and doing art is my only source of income

The past 2 months have been very hard for me and i am now late on all the bills but my biggest problem rn is that i might be expelled from my university if I don't pay the tution fee in 3 days as im already late for it

I know joining a college with weak financial condition was very risky move for me but it was my dream college and i didn't expect all the bad things that happened the past month

For me the college is my last hope for my future career as well because I can't be doing art for my whole life because just like this anything can go wrong and since i live alone college is my last hope for my life

I dont like asking for free money especially on the internet, this is a very tough situation for me so i will draw a sketch of everyone who donates to me 1$

I will draw a quick 10 min sketch to a detailed 90 min sketch depending on the amount

And if you want a sketch like the 1st,4th and 5th images above (sketch with some text on it)

I have created a seperate commision section for it as well

https://ko-fi.com/smir7/commissions

If you want a simple normal potrait like the 3rd image you can donate any amount to me on this link and I'll draw it https://ko-fi.com/smir7

I'll be forever grateful for everyone who donates and I'll make sure to draw a nice sketch for you

Please don't worry that i might not have time for doing your commision , im ready to work hard for a few weeks i can take as many commisions and sketches rn , it will be a busy 2 weeks from now but I'll draw all the requests without any exception

I will send a high resolution printable pic for all the sketches and commisions

Im planning on doing live streaming of drawing and doing personal art journal commisions soon once im free from this situation

Follow me if you're interested in the journey

(watermark to verify its me)

[marsprincess889]

Yoni animal observations

I did something similar with nakshatras. This is them in a very simple way. This is based on traditional associations as well as my own observations of real life and art. 💕 The word "yoni", as well as meaning the female reproductive organ, also means "origin". Yoni animal represents the instinct of the nakshatra and ultimately, reveals its true core nature.

Also, disclaimer: it's very sad that I have to say this, and apologies if you're not one of those people, but if you're going to correct anything in this post by writing one or more long paragraphs of why you think I'm wrong, you might as well just start your own blog or make your own post about the subject. I've been observing yoni animals for years and I'm kind of sorry if any of this offends you, but I'm not trying to attack anyone personally, or even a specific placement (nakshatras in this case), cause that's just dumb. Of course, everyone is free to express their opinions but please do it politely and have some respect for the person who took their time to gain and share knowledge. It's very easy to correct others, it's very hard to be faultless yourself. So, factual corrections are always welcome(say someone got someone's chart placement wrong, or they have written a factually incorrect association, like if they were to write that Jyeshta is fierce as opposed to sharp/cruel in nature.), but, once again, everyone's view is different and so either respect mine or don't write anything at all.

With that being said, you can now enjoy this post💕

Horse yonis

Ashwini and Shatabhisha

Keywords: activity, simplicity, masculinity(solar/yang), independence, healing.

Straightforward people. They might tend to have black and white thinking, can be very blunt with their delivery and definitely prone to "deafness": not hearing others' views. Simple and utilitarian, goal-oriented. Their presence might not be really noticed until the moment they suddenly speak up about or act on something. Love to point stuff out. Either quiet or very precise while speaking. Not aggressive but can be combative. Most likely will oppose someone before making peace. Independence>sharing. Don't like anything "unnecessary", love to get to the point.

Elephant yonis

Bharani and Revati

Keywords: slow, authority, time, timelessness, strength, transitions, protection, completion, gentleness, complexity, depth.

Not revealing their innermost selves, only revealing it to a select group of people, if to anyone. They attach meaning to things based on their experiences. Protective and gentle with each other, closed off to most of the others. Very private. Not really concerned with trends. Observant but not quick to act. Can have many sides to them that some others might fail to understand. Have an air of wisdom, but not that of arrogance. Still, they are the most likely to knowingly take the high road but still protect their peace, making them very exclusive, although it's never for show. Defensive but quietly so. Accomodating to some degree on the outside, there's always more to them than what's obvious. See the bigger picture in every situation. They have a certain quiet strength and power. Nurture is important to them. Do not appreciate unnecessary aggression and try to dominate over anything they consider harsh/crude.

Sheep yonis

Krittika and Pushya

Keywords: precision, structure, minimalism, choosiness, contained.

Do not like excess in anything. They have a sense of balance, usually in almost everything. Prioritize sctructure and basics/essentials. Like clarity and clear-cut lines in their lives and around them. Can be snappy, but in a passive-aggressive way. Not harsh in a heavy/overwhelming way but still harsh about details. Have a soft demeanor with strangers and acquaintances, sometimes even people close to them in everyday life but can judge them quietly. Neutral to friendly on the outside, but if they have uncomfortable emotions they try hard to release them quietly/without much fuss. Might bottle up resentment in result. Very utilitarian and practical.

Snake yonis

Rohini and Mrigashira

Keywords: enjoyment, ease, materialism, basic awareness, growth, progress, sensory indulgence, instincts.

Very placid and calm. They focus mainly on material things but can live without luxuries, and can also share them, although privacy is very important to them. Very aware of their surroundings and their own presence. Attuned to their senses. Can get easily attached to people and things. Can exhibit selfish tendencies(or that's how it looks to others) when they feel like their desires are ignored, but Rohini and Mrigashira each do it differently.

Dog yonis

Ardra and Mula

Keywords: upheaval, critical point, rebelling, release, change, anchoring.

Tense but not frail. Might look tortured sometimes. Do not like to and probably even cannot focus on details, at least not how it's traditionally done(different to each situation). Like to display their individuality in one way or another. Dark humor or sassy comebacks. Either quiet or very loud, but either way, opinionated. If they're neutral then they're opinionated about being neutral. Can be kind of nihilistic but at peace with it. Contrarian and unapologetic. If they don't care about something you can't make them care. If they do care, they care intensely.

Cat yonis

Punarvasu and Ashlesha

Keywords: accumulation, buildup, purity, safety, protection, preservation, cycles.

Concerned with what influences them, not so much what they put out. Self-focused but also highly aware of others' needs. Can adapt to surroundings and can change their behavior based on what they need or really want. Not unkind but laser-focused on the boundaries. Always keep their cards close to their chest, not out of malice but simply to preserve their safety. Look more unnaproachable than they really are, and know more than they share with most.

Rat yonis

Magha and Purva Phalguni

Keywords: dispersion, creativity, planting seeds, the self.

Can be egocentric. Prideful and nonchalant. Love to show off. Might be aware of surroundings to some degree but even if they are, they rarely care. Getting what they want is the priority, along with self-expression. Not very moralistic, don't care much about labels. Sometimes they can be too detached. Will almost never catch them crying in front of others, although they can be dramatic if they want and can, without a problem, attract their dwsired attention. Their happiness is more warm and generous than loud and euphoric. Might have a poker face, they rarely show strong emotions. The strongest emotion I've seen them express is that of defensiveness, and that's not even an emotion. When they get defensive it's almost always because something has touched their pride or triggered their ego. Focused on what they can do.

Cow yonis

Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada

Keywords: stability, the long-term results, natural, softness, power/influence, unity, calm.

Stubborn. That's the only defense they have, because otherwise they're very soft. Naturally honest. They have an effortlessness about them that feels easy to be around, and they are pleasant to be around but not accepting of everyone. They avoid people they don't like from early on and stick to the ones they consider better. Not hesitant to defend themselves or people close to them, but not quick to waste that energy on just anyone, and when they do become defensive they still maintain "the high ground". Backing their allies and fighting proudly is natural for them. Again, very stubborn, so they rarely, if ever, give up on something important. Although they're tough, they're not sharp or cruel. They are mostly in a state calmness and assuredness rather than anxious defensiveness. Very fixed and comfortable in their ways.

Buffalo yonis

Hasta and Swati

Keywords: materialism, gain, comfort, strength, feminine(yin), ease.

More attached to material things than other yonis. Individuality is defined through connections and surroundings. Love comfort and ease. Interdependence>independence. Can be curiously neutral and accomodating. Self-focused but not selfish. Often phlegmatic and slow. Genuinely caring but can be cunning. Not the most direct people. They will let others know their views but won't push them aggressively on others. Almost everything about them is filtered through that neutrality.

Tiger yonis

Chitra and Vishakha

Keywords: building, gradual, defensive, expression, buildup.

The most defensive. Can look sweet on the outside but are not all soft. Can range from extremely forgiving to extremely vengeful. Aggression comes out while speaking. Rarely, if ever, present in a state of calm melancholy. They moreso go from happy/fun to agitated. Focused on development/building, and always look for more than what's natural for them. Witty but emotionally so. If they're highly agitated, it's very hard for them to exercise restraint in the moment. Not that direct in general but unfiltered during critical moments. It's easy for them to put on a mask, whether out of neccessity or just for fun. Can be very judgemental. If they're not aware, it can make them act in a "mean" way when they feel not their best.

Rabbit/Deer yonis

Anuradha and Jyeshta

Keywords: society, organization, status quo, responsibility, transpersonal, maturing.

Very non-aggressive on the inside, despite how they might look. Naturally have endurance and a sense of responsibility. Can be judgemental but also understanding. Love to give advice. Competitive but respectful. Can become arrogant. Love everything "classic" but want to establish their own, new structures. Choosy and sometimes exclusive. More warm than they appear, and capable of more emotions than how it seems. Often traditionally intelligent. Have a very civilized behavior.

Vanar yonis

Purva Ashadha and Shravana

Keywords: flow, alliances, connections, support, creation and preservation.

Good at reading between the lines, anything too structured is harsh for them. Otherworldly aura/mannerisms. Most likely to posses what others might consider as "quirks". Value their own individuality and uniqueness. Seeks to be different from what they consider boring, normal or basic. Not very reactive. When they get defensive, they get quiet. Can romatisize sadness and melancholy. Capable of seeing both sides but are often willingly biased.

Mongoose yoni

Uttara Ashadha

Keywords: independence, solitude, practicality, victory.

Truly neutral and unbothered. Value honesty and integrity. Not attached to material things at all. Easy to be around but their regal nature might put some people ill at ease. Naturally take on leadership positions. Might feel lonely but won't trade solitude for tiring/uninteresting company. Value practicality and simplicity, and are practical themselves. Surprsingly warm and feeling in certain moments, but can also be uncaring towards others.

Lion yonis

Dhanishta and Purva Bhadrapada

Keywords: notoriety, flashiness, power, aggression, pride.

Very unfiltered and loudly so. Unashamed and bold, proud. That pride and confidence fuels their calmness, but they can lack patience. In everyday interactions they can look very unreactive but if something "triggers" them, they will not hesitate to be a little(or not so little) aggressive. Love to spread their influence. Might strongly dislike anything that looks subtle and quiet to them, as it arises distrust in them. Rarely, if ever, use/appreciate sarcasm. They prefer directness. Can slip into being a bully, or can become a proud voice for others.

[orangechickenpillow]

Maybe I’m dumb but how did viktor’s crutch suddenly get several feet longer? The rest that used to sit under his arm now is above his head?

Hi lovely. You're not dumb! It's such a quick moment in the episode that it's easy to miss what (I think) happens.

So when Viktor comes out of the hex-goop he immediately reaches for his crutch (a really cool detail that I love very much, as it shows that, deep down, he's still Viktor to at least some degree). Now, in this shot, right after he grabs it, his crutch looks like it always has

But we can see that when he touches the crutch, he begins to change it in a similar way that he himself has been changed. You can see it actually happening here

And here you can see it afterwords.

And then there's this shot while he's talking to Jayce that shows his entire crutch. If you look at the very bottom, you can see this spindly design that wasn't there before

So I think what happened is him touching the crutch made it transform and therefore extended it, making it taller than before.

It even sounds different when he walks! It's more of a glassy/metallic sound than a thump. How cool is that!

[nightxcreature]

Hot-Blooded

Summary: Reader gets into a potion unknowingly that causes her deepest desires to rise to the surface.

A/N: @jacklesversebingo entry for the prompt "Love Potion", I took this in the direction of Love😏Potion so I hope you enjoy! This is the longest fic I've written since being back, over 1700 words!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Spicy language, Drinking, Ingesting a love potion without prior knowledge, smutty insinuation, cursing

18+ ONLY

Music blasts from the small speaker on the counter as I whiz around the kitchen, spoon in one hand and drink the other, on a mission to finish dinner before the boys make it home. They had left on a hunt with Rowena earlier in the day, what should’ve been an easy salt and burn turned into something bigger and, while they would’ve rather enlisted the help of literally anyone else, the only person with a solution was the red-haired mother of the king of hell. I jump at the sound of the bunkers door slamming open and stick my head around the corner, the sound of heavy boots thudding against the stairs telling me that they’re right on time.

                “Good timing!” I yell as I hear them nearing the entrance to the kitchen, “I’m almost done!”

                “Good, I’m pretty sure my stomach ate itself 60 miles ago.” Dean grumbles as he turns the corner into the room, his deep voice pulls my attention from the pot in front of me. My breath hitches as we make eye contact. I almost drop the spoon from my hand at the want that fills my body. He always looks good, but today…he looks really good. His green eyes are somehow greener, the freckles scattered across his face more prominent, and his hair is tousled just enough to bring the filthiest of thoughts to my mind. He raises a brow at my staring and smirks a little, “You alright, Sweetheart?”

                I quickly clear my throat and nod, turning back to the stove to take a couple deep breaths, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I shake my head and turn down the stove eye as Sam and Rowena make their way into the room.

                “Smells great. Thanks for this.” Sam says as he reaches for the bowls in the cabinet above me, “We’re all starving.”

                I smile and nod, “No problem. I knew you’d all be hungry, it’s the least I could do.” I slide out of his way and head toward the table. My eyes immediately find Dean again as I make my way across the room. He’s removing the flannel covering his T-shirt and I can’t help the way my gaze rakes over his body. The way his broad shoulders look in that shirt should be illegal, the fabric stretching across his chest as if its very fibers were made specifically for him. He throws the flannel across the back of his chair and turns to grab a bowl from Sam, allowing my gaze to fall to his hips. Thoughts of my head between his legs and his hand in my hair cross my mind in graphic detail and I have to force myself to look at anything else. I’m practically drooling when Rowena catches my eye and raises her eyebrows in question as a blush rushes my cheeks. I fix my eyes on the table and grab a seat near the door in case I need to make a quick escape.

                Rowena takes the seat beside me and smiles sweetly, “You look a little flushed, Dear.”

                “I’ve been drinking.” I mumble back and pray she’ll drop it; embarrassment rises in my chest at being caught ogling one of my best friends. Of course, I’ve noticed that Dean’s attractive before, what woman wouldn’t? But I’ve never thirsted after him like a pre-teen seeing boobs for the first time, and I would rather not be called out on it in front of him.

                Rowena nods, pursing her lips and smiling in thanks as Sam places a bowl in front her, “I see.” She whispers, “And what, pray tell, have you been drinking?”

                I look at her quizzically, a frown forming on my face, “Uh, my usual stuff. Tito’s and Sprite, why?”

                She hums, taking a slow sip of the soup on her spoon before smiling sweetly again, “I may decide I need a drink soon, too.”

                “Uh, okay.” I reply, grabbing my own spoon and digging in.

                The chatter around the table is minimal as we eat, and, in my boredom, I catch myself staring at Dean again. His thick fingers are wrapped around the spoon loosely, his lips slurping the soup off the utensil lazily. My mind rushes to picturing his hands wrapped around my hips as his lips lazily move across my skin, his name a whisper on my own. I can practically see it happening in my mind’s eye, the wetness pooling below me becoming more apparent to me the longer I stare. My gaze slowly travels from his lips to his eyes, which are already schooled on me curiously and I can’t decide if the blush heating my cheeks is from being caught again or from the filthy thoughts running rampant through me.

                “Darlin’, seriously, are you okay?” He asks again, dropping the spoon into his empty bowl, “You’ve been staring at me since I walked in.”

                “Uh, yeah. I-I’m fine, I think.” I stutter out, shifting my gaze from his face to the food before me, “Just, uh, just got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

                Rowena lets out a chuckle at that causing the three of us to glance at her again, “Tell me, Dear, did you happen to pay attention when I was telling you about leaving some…supplies in your freezer?”

                I nod, “Yeah, you said you left them on the top shelf by my bottle and not to touch them.”

                She smiles again, “And did you happen to see what my supplies were stored in?”

                I shake my head, furrowing my brows and nodding toward my drink, “I wasn’t worried about what witchy-woo you brought in here. I was worried about getting buzzed while I cooked dinner.”

                She laughs again, louder this time, and stands to slink over to the freezer. My mouth drops when she pulls out two identical bottles of Tito’s, a mischievous smile on her face, “Can you tell me which is yours?”

                “Are you kidding me?”  I blurt out, "Why would you put your supplies in a bottle of Tito's? What the hell did I drink?”

                "It's inconspicuous," The smile remains on her face as she speaks, “Are you feeling a little overwhelmed, Dear?”

                A huff leaves me before Dean butts in, “Stop toying with her, Rowena. What’s in that bottle?”

                She turns her mischievous smile to him and winks, “It’s not me that’s toying with her, Mr. Winchester.”

                “Yeah, if you weren’t so damn pretty, I wouldn’t be in this mess! You should stop toying with me.” I grumbled, immediately snapping my mouth shut and staring wide-eyed at him.

                He jars back and glances between Rowena and I. Raising a hand, he points in my direction and then back to himself before smiling at the embarrassed look on my face. I fix my stare at the floor, feeling as if the blush on my cheeks is a permanent fixture there.

                Sam lets out a little laugh, “A love potion, right? Why were you keeping that in our freezer?”

                Rowena scowls and raises her bottle a bit, “Well, yes and no. It’s a love potion." She makes a pointed look toward me, "It brings primal urges to the surface for the one you truly care for. And, not that it’s any business of yours, Samuel, this was supposed to be shared with the Archangel…if he chose to make an appearance while I’m here.”

                I grimace and glance up at her, “That shit was for Gabriel?”

                She smiles softly and gazes at the bottle longingly, “Just to spice things up.”

                “Okay…” Sam mumbles, “And how long until this stuff wears off?” He asks quickly, giving me a worried look.

I’m trying my hardest to keep my gaze from Dean but losing the battle. His furrowed brows and hard jaw leave my wandering thoughts to conjure up plenty of other reasons he could be making that face, reasons that I could provide if he’d give me the chance. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and sigh, the thought of his body on mine overtaking whatever willpower I thought I had left. The heat between my legs is almost unbearable as I rub my thighs together under the table. What the hell did she put in that bottle?

Dean pulls his eyes from Rowena’s at the sound of my sigh, and glances between Sam and me, chuckling awkwardly, “Not that I don’t enjoy the ‘fuck me’ eye’s you’re giving me, Darlin’, I’ll have to agree with Sammy. We need to know how to fix you.”

“I can think of a few ways to fix me…” I mumble, looking up at him through my lashes and quirking an eyebrow, “It’s actually all I’ve been thinking about since you walked in.”

He chokes up a little on the beer he’s sipping and glances at Rowena, “What the hell is in that bottle?”

“Enough to keep Gabriel and I going for days, so if she wants to get over this she’ll need to sleep it off,” She states before giving Dean a small smile, “Unless you’d like to help with her little predicament…I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

A blush rises in his cheeks as she speaks and he turns to face me, “Listen, uh, don’t get me wrong here, I’ve thought about this before. A lot actually…” He gruffly whispers across the table, sending Sam an apologetic glance, “But, uh, I’d really rather do this when you’re of…uh, sound mind?”

“You’ve thought about this before?” I mutter, raising my eyebrows and smirking, “How often? Wait, don’t answer that…that’s the potion talking…I think.”

“Stop talking.” Sam groans, running a hand down his face, “Please stop talking.”

Dean glances nervously around, a blush across his cheeks again, “We can talk about it later.”

Rowena chuckles again and pats his shoulder, “Someone should tuck her in before she say’s something she’ll regret.”

I nod quickly, and turn to Sam, “I’m very sorry, but could you walk me to my room before I fuck your brothers brains out on this table.”

He grimaces and stands, turning to Rowena and pointing toward the bottle, “Keep that in your own freezer next time.”

“Or leave it here…” Dean mumbles, smirking at me as Sam pushes me out the door, “Sleep tight, Darlin’. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.” He winks and I outwardly groan, my bottom lip jutting out as Sam continues to drag me down the hallway.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: I have an idea for a smutty part two, if you'd be interested? Please comment and let me know!

Taglist: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know!

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ mini pac ｡⋆｡ ﾟ

˖ ݁random things about your next lover ౨ৎ ˚

this is a small light hearted pick a pile reading, made for fun. there's a good mix of random, quirky, and deep stuff in each pile. so yeah, pick one and take what resonates or take it as a sign if it makes sense to you. {this reading is written in a non-hetero centric way}

dividers by @cafekitsune & @jimzittos images found in @saizun 's blog.

pile one pile two pile three

pile four pile five pile six

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ ko-fi page

⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

They have way too many hobbies, and they’re all kinda niche but related to creativity.

Very playful with almost everything, quirky or bizarre sense of humor. 

Always looking for new things to do, seeks enjoyment and/or entertainment.

Humble, they don’t like bragging or being too loud about whatever they achieve. 

They are open minded because being judgemental goes against their logic. 

Amazing at teamwork. 

Deep down they are actually quite structured and disciplined, despite giving off the opposite impression. 

Unexpectedly responsible in their own way. 

Very curious, wants to know everything about you. 

Is quick to smell bullshit. Impossible for them to be lied to.

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐.⋆༘˚⋆

They love anything that has a darker, spooky, mysterious tone. But they are quite chill about it actually, they love scary things but they are not annoying about it. 

Easily misunderstood and badly judged by others tho.

They try really hard to be good at communicating with others despite being kinda shy and almost awkward. 

Always overthinking and over analyzing. 

They are nerdy, but in a history or philosophy way. Probably unable to do math. 

Amazing emotional intelligence, especially when it comes to dealing with difficult moments from their past. 

Worried about the future: they are not too concerned about traditional success, but they are concerned about leaving some sort of impact in the world, no matter how small. 

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

Hardworking, dedicated, passionate… maybe a workaholic. 

Actually quite handy and always willing to help or solve anything.

They love their routines, they swear by them.

If they love you, after you ask them “what's going on?” they won’t reply “nothing”, they will go on about an overly specific topic that they were reminded of by something random. 

Charismatic, but in a pretty eccentric way. 

Black cat looks, yellow cat personality. 

They are attractive because they are truly confident in themselves, and maybe quite uninterested in looking exactly like the conventional beauty ideals.

Detail oriented, borderline obsessive. 

They are always doing something, always on the go, always close to burn out… because the moment they chill they accidentally begin feeling unmotivated.

. ˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓.⋆༘˚⋆

Party animal but in a golden retriever way. 

So friendly and nice it's almost scary. But in reality they really enjoy meeting people, hanging out, and chatting. 

Also, quite altruistic and willing to help out anyone with anything, they don’t care who or why. 

They have a lot of friends, and acquaintances, but they have a very small inner circle who they are extremely loyal to. 

Very strong sense of hope for the future. They never lose the conviction that everything will eventually turn out just fine. 

Their will is sometimes too strong, they don’t let anything go easily. 

Either on the spotlight or in a leadership position most times. They don’t look for it, it just happens. 

Sometimes overly protective, but they have quirky ways of showing that.

Not good at flirting, they're quite dorky about it, but somehow it works for them

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

HOT as fuck. As in sensual and captivating.

Highly perceptive about the people around them, they like to wonder how the mind works.

They might look off standish, cold or uninterested, and yes, they might be most times but that doesn't make them bad people.

In reality they are trying to look cool while being shy and afraid of intimacy.

Highly intuitive.

Many times their expectations for themselves are insane, but their expectations for others are low.

Probably super into classic literature. Dante's Inferno specifically.

Quite romantic, but also kinda pretentious about it. Don't expect average gifs, expect something that is a reference to an obscure experimental new wave french film or something.

They don't joke about their spotify playlists.

. ˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒙.⋆༘˚⋆

Highly sensitive and creative but in a Lana del Rey kind of way.

They really have a sort of "old soul" vibe.

Too empathetic for their own good, but they are always working on it.

Staying at home is their favourite thing to do, specially if there's sweets involved.

Incredibly patient. They actually prefer slow-paced everything. Books, movies, shows, hobbies, everything.

Probably into crafty hobbies and podcasts.

They have a very low social battery, but they are always willing to put the effort if it is because of someone they appreciate.

Very proud of their roots and overall life journey.

Not very talkative, unless they have something they deem important and necessary to share.

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[goblinontour]

Playground Love

principles and piercings

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, talking, that’s it, the kid is mentioned but not present

word count: 4.9k

The sound of the door seemed to echo through the empty house, punctuating your frustration. You slammed it behind you, exhaling a rough, irritated breath. “Fuck.” The word left your lips in a low groan, half-lost in the rumble of thunder that chased you inside. The rain hadn’t just soaked you – it had become a cold, unyielding second skin, seeping through your sweater, tracing icy rivulets down your neck and arms. Each drop felt like a reminder of his refusal to leave the house this morning, his insistence that you go instead. All because he insisted on playing his brooding poet routine. Stuck inside like a house cat that could no longer bear the sun, playing reclusive vampire. As if the world outside these walls had become foreign, too bright, too sharp for him to tread.

The sky was a dense shade of grey, heavy with clouds that looked like bruises on the horizon. The air had smelled thick and metallic, almost electric, as if the storm carried something more ominous in its folds. And yet, he’d chosen to stay here, curled up in his warm little corner, lost in whatever book had captured his interest this time, entirely detached from the reality you had to walk through alone.

As you shrugged off your drenched coat, it landed with a damp, resigned thud on the hallway bench. The boots took more effort, sticky from mud and pooling rainwater, but you tugged them off and let them drop, watching as small puddles began to spread across the floor. Normally, you’d tidy it up, make sure the mess didn’t creep into the house. Today, you let it lie there, like a silent reminder of what you’d endured.

You made your way through the silent house, feeling the warmth of it slowly seep into your bones. And that’s when you spotted him, his little mop of hair barely visible above the couch cushions, the tips messy and almost comically unkempt, contrasting with the stillness of the room. He sat in his typical lounging position, legs tucked under him, shoulders hunched slightly, a small crease on his forehead as he concentrated on the words in front of him. His headphones were big, cocooning him in sound, book in one hand, and a cup of tea cradled in the other, the soft tendrils of steam curling up like wisps of smoke.

You could tell from the slight furrow in his brow and the relaxed set of his jaw that he was somewhere else entirely, lost in a place he always retreated to. He hadn’t noticed you – he never did, not when he was like this. You watched as he flipped a page, moving as if in a trance, his thumb tracing the corner of the book’s edge in a habitual, absent-minded way, like the very act of reading was a ritual for him.

You stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, half-amused, half-annoyed. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, you thought, a mantra fighting against the urge that was rising within you. But his hair looked so irresistibly soft, so inviting, and that little voice inside you – the one that always wanted to shake him out of his dreamy, unreachable state – was louder today. He’d been distant for days now, and this simple, innocent moment of solitude felt almost selfish, given the morning you’d had.

He deserved a jolt back to reality, you reasoned. A reminder that you were still here, dripping wet from the storm he had refused to brave.

You let your hand hover just above his head, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, to see the finer details of the little dark waves framing his face. And then, with a quick, almost mischievous swipe, you tangled your fingers in his hair, giving it a deliberate tousle.

Perfect. Just enough to pull him out of his own head.

The reaction was immediate. He tensed, his whole body freezing for a split second before he jerked just enough to spill a splash of tea over his fingers. He whipped around, tugging off his headphones with a startled look, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of surprise and irritation that slowly shifted to something softer when he saw your dripping clothes, the slight smirk on your face.

“Really?” he murmured, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of his lips.

“Really.” you replied, letting the word hang in the air, as if daring him to argue.

He looked down at his tea-stained hand, holding it up with an exaggerated sigh as if the sticky mess were some grand tragedy. His fingers curled, studying the small streaks that glistened against his skin, almost contemplative. He opened his mouth, maybe to complain, maybe to tease, but you cut him off.

“You could’ve done the school run.” you said, your tone light but laced with an unmistakable edge. “It’s just rain, not lava.”

He looked back at you, his eyes widening a fraction, a bemused expression flickering across his face as he processed your words. “I hate the rain.” he said, the statement soft, almost gentle, as if reminding you of something you’d forgotten about himself.

You shrugged, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the lingering dampness that still clung to your skin. “I hate a lot of things too.” you replied, though your voice softened as you watched him. “But I went anyway. Because she wanted someone to walk her in.”

He seemed to take that in, letting it settle in the silence between you, his gaze dropping to his tea-stained hand, then back to you, the smallest trace of guilt flashing across his face. You reached out, took his cup, and wrapped your chilled hands around its warmth. He watched as you took a long, slow sip, savouring the taste of the drink you hadn’t even made, letting the warmth seep into you while his eyes lingered on you with something like quiet regret.

The storm outside raged on, thunder rumbling low, but in here, in this small, still room, everything seemed to slow down. The two of you sat there, tangled in a shared silence, an unspoken understanding hanging heavy between you both. The rain might still be falling, but here, wrapped in his gaze and the faint aroma of tea and damp wool, you almost felt warm again.

Without a second thought, you sank down onto the couch beside him, invading his space, still damp and dripping. He could feel the cold fabric of your clothes sticking to his leg, but he didn’t move. If anything, he seemed to settle deeper into the cushions, unfazed, watching you with that quiet, stubborn gaze of his. The book, the well-worn Nabokov novel he’d been pouring over for days, slipped from his hand and came to rest on the coffee table, forgotten in favour of this small exchange.

He didn’t say a word as he reached for you, his hands curling around your ankle. With a practised focus, he began pulling off your damp socks, his fingers deft but gentle, peeling the fabric away like it was some chore he’d taken upon himself long ago. His thumb brushed the arch of your foot, lingering just enough to send a warm spark up your leg. You knew what he was doing, you could feel the unspoken offer in his touch. You’d come back from the rain, chilled and annoyed, and he would be the antidote to all of it, the warmth to counter your cold.

“Despair?” you asked, nodding at the worn paperback now lying on the table.

“Yeah.” he replied without opening his eyes, pressing his thumb deeper into the soft skin of your foot, working out the tension that had gathered there from the cold walk.

“Again?” you asked, with a bemused little smile. You’d watched him read Despair more times than you could count, seen the way he lingered over certain passages as if trying to unlock some hidden truth buried in the sentences.

“Well, it seems so, doesn’t it?” He looked up, a sly glint in his eyes as he took in your expression, the corners of his mouth quirking into the barest hint of a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “You gonna go through with it this time?”

“What? My own murder?” His smirk widened.

“I could do it for you, you know.” you said, feigning an air of indifference. “You couldn’t even get your kid to kindergarten – I doubt you’re qualified for something as ambitious as self-sabotage.”

He scoffed, but you saw the amusement flicker across his face. “Probably not.” he muttered, his voice dropping to something softer, almost pensive. “I’d mess that one up too.”

His hand shifted, his fingers pressing insistently into the sole of your foot, kneading, coaxing the tension out of you with a subtle, possessive touch. He watched as you shifted under his hands, his gaze steady, challenging. And as his fingers pressed, you pushed back, just enough to test his patience, to feel the resistance in his grip. His eyes darkened, a silent warning in his gaze.

But why would you listen to him?

You pressed harder, a slow, playful pressure against his hand, and he raised an eyebrow. He tightened his grip, his thumb digging in with renewed insistence, letting you feel the full weight of his focus as he worked, as if he could undo more than just the aches in your body, as if he could unearth something deeper in you, something he knew you were holding back.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your cheek as he murmured, “You think you could manage it?”

“What, getting rid of you?” you asked, your tone light, though you could feel the intensity thickening the air between you, wrapping around you like the rain-soaked clothes clinging to your skin.

He tilted his head, his lips curving in that knowing way of his, a slow, calculating smile as his gaze travelled over your face, settling somewhere just beyond your eyes. “Well,” he said softly, “you seem pretty adept at destruction. Thought I’d be spared for a bit.”

His thumb pressed deeper into the arch, his eyes flicking up to watch your reaction, to see if you’d break first, if you’d turn away or push back again. But you held his gaze, the words catching somewhere in your throat, held there.

“That so?” you said, tilting your head as you watched him, your voice low, as if you were offering him something far more dangerous than he was ready for. 

In the dim light of the sitting room, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw, the unruly hair that fell across his brow, the softness that lingered at the edges of his mouth even as his eyes held that impenetrable gaze. You could feel it gathering, the way the air seemed to hold its breath between you, as if it were waiting for one of you to give in.

But he held steady too, unwavering. He let his hand drift up, his fingers brushing your ankle with a gentle insistence that made you want to shiver. “You don’t want to be in charge of my destruction.” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You like having something to fight against.”

“Oh, do I?” you countered, feeling the pull, feeling the tension draw you closer to him, like a thread strung taut between you both, waiting to snap.

He leaned back, his gaze unreadable, but his hand remained on you, warm and grounding, as if he could keep you tethered to him. “Yeah.” he murmured, a smile just brushing his lips, like he was sharing a private joke with himself. “You love the fight.”

He closed his eyes again, pressing his thumb in one last time, a lingering pressure that seemed to say he knew you better than you’d ever admit, that he saw the dark, hidden corners you tried to keep from him. You felt it – the quiet ache that simmered between you both, like an unhealed bruise, tender and waiting for the next touch.

“So…Poppy-” you began, voice careful, trying to ease into what you wanted to say. The words were still a half-formed thought in your mind, and you were searching for a way to soften them, to bring them up without triggering one of his spiralling, introspective rants that would turn a simple conversation into a storm.

But he interrupted before you’d even figured out how to say it. “What? Did she want me to walk her?” He said it with that same, quiet self-reproach, already trying to shoulder a blame that hadn’t even been cast. That was the way he worked – always a little too ready to bear the weight, to assume that he’d fallen short.

You let out a sigh, more exasperated at the rain than at him. “No, you’re fine, Al.” Your hand slid over his, prying it gently from your foot, which he had clutched a little too tightly. His fingers held on tight before finally releasing, almost reluctant to let go. You pulled your leg back, shuffled into the corner of the couch, and leaned into it, letting your back slump down, finally allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of it. Your feet came up onto the coffee table, as if claiming that little space for yourself, unguarded and tired.

You patted the cushion beside you, a soft, wordless command. “Sit.”

And he did, moving closer, his gaze subdued, that obedient feline quality settling back over him, turning him soft and pliable as he folded himself to rest his head in your lap. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling rather than meeting your own, though you knew he could feel the quiet gravity in your touch, the way your fingers began moving through his hair, each pass aimed towards calming him. The warmth began to seep into your skin, radiating from him, taking the last chill of the rain from your bones.

He lay still, his face turned upward, shadows pooling beneath his eyes as he stared with an intensity that seemed directed at something only he could see. His voice, when it came, was soft, raw, like he was sharing something fragile, something he wasn’t sure you’d want to hear. “I got better, right?” His tone was almost tentative, like he needed the words to land softly, like he was testing their truth. “I know I was…pretty bad at this when she was littler. And I had that whole…thing.”

He trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Those times he’d tried so hard to keep hidden, when the house had felt more like a place you both haunted than lived in. The times when his silences had grown so deep, you worried they might swallow him whole. But he’d pulled through – though not without scars, not without shadows that still lingered.

“And I think…I think I was depressed.” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, as if naming it gave it too much power, as if he could scare it off by speaking it quietly. “But I don’t think I am anymore. I’m better, aren’t I?”

You nodded, letting the gentle motion of your hand convey your answer. You could feel his breath shift, his body relax as he let himself trust in the rhythm of your touch, let himself believe in what he couldn’t see from his place in your lap. “But I just- sometimes I feel like I need a break, you know? Like I need to step back, just for a moment, so I can keep being…better.” He sighed, and it sounded almost like a confession. “I’m sorry you had to go through the rain and everything. I should’ve gone. I’ll take her tomorrow, I promise.”

He promised.

The words hung between you, solid and steady, a commitment you could feel resonating through his voice, through the weight of his head in your lap, through the way his hand drifted to rest on your knee as if he needed something to hold him there. And you knew he meant it, even if you could also feel the fragility in his words, that lingering hesitation, the quiet plea beneath the promise. He was asking you to trust him again, to…believe. In this version of himself, the one that was still trying to figure out how to hold the weight of all the things he’d once tried to escape from.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Your fingers continued their slow rhythm, threading through his hair, smoothing it, grounding him, answering his unspoken question with each gentle stroke.

The storm outside had settled to a quiet murmur, the rain drumming softly against the window panes. He reached up, his hand curling around yours, guiding it down to his chest, holding it there like he needed you to feel his heartbeat, the steady proof of his presence, of the life he was still fighting for, day by day. The pulse thrummed beneath your fingers, warm and steady and real.

His eyes drifted closed under the weight of his quiet admission. You felt something ease inside you too, some small place that had held itself closed for too long. Maybe you didn’t need words all the time. 

“She wants to get her ears pierced.” you said, finally finishing the thought that had been lingering. You’d been wondering how to say it without sparking one of his reactions, but as soon as the words left your mouth, his head snapped toward you, his face already set with that familiar, stubborn frown.

“No.” he replied flatly, as if the answer were obvious and non-negotiable.

You blinked, not sure whether to laugh or protest. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” you asked, voice edging with challenge, but you could tell by the set of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed that he was digging his heels in. 

“My say is no.” he repeated, his voice low and unyielding, like that was all there was to it. You could tell he was ready to defend his stance, even if he hadn’t thought it through entirely.

Your hand stilled in his hair, and you saw his mouth twitch in offence as he noticed the sudden absence of your touch. “Why’d you stop?” he muttered, almost wounded.

“Maybe my say is yes,” you shot back, leaning into him slightly, challenging him with a small smirk. 

“Well, I don’t want her to.” he answered, sitting up properly now, his full attention at play. His eyes were serious, like he’d decided to double down rather than let this slide.

“You sound like my father.” you retorted, the words slipping out before you’d fully realised what you were saying. The expression on his face faltered for a moment, and he looked almost chastened, but then his defences rose again.

“Oh, come on, don’t say that.” He rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh, though you could tell he didn’t want to come across as unreasonable.

You relaxed back into the couch, giving him a softer look. “She saw mine this morning, you know? She was looking at my nose and asked what it was, and she said she wants pretty earrings in her ears, like some of the girls in her class.” You could still picture Poppy’s face as she’d gazed up at you with wide eyes, all that wonder and excitement. It had surprised you, the way she’d connected that small detail to something she wanted to experience herself.

“I thought you took that out?” he asked, his voice softening as he leaned closer to you, his hand finding its way back to your knee, thumb rubbing circles into the bone. “I always loved your septum ring.”

“I did take it out, but it didn’t close up. This morning, I just thought I’d try, and it went in easily. I’ve been wearing it up-”

“You should wear it again.” he interrupted, his tone softer, and you caught a hint of that wistfulness he never let show. “The silver ring. The thin one. That was my favourite.” 

You shook your head, trying to deflect his sentiment even as you felt yourself soften. “I don’t care what your favourite was.”

“Oh, really?” he said, smiling with that hint of mischief, the edge of his mouth quivering as he tilted his head to look at you, challenging you in his own quiet way. He shifted, closing the space between you, and his gaze held you, pulling you in like it always did, no matter how many times you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let him win. 

“Okay.” he murmured, as if conceding, but his smile stayed. And as you slid back into the couch, he moved easily, resting his head in your lap again, his body finding its way back to that comfortable position as if he’d never left. His hand came to rest over your knee, anchoring himself there, his eyes glinting with amusement as they drifted back to your nose. 

“I can see it now.” he teased, his voice low and playful as his hand drifted upward, his fingers reaching closer to your nose.

You leaned back, feigning exasperation, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “Don’t stick your fingers up my nose, Alex.” you warned, but the laughter was already threatening to break through.

He chuckled, eyes glimmering with that irrepressible mischief. “Oh, come on.” he said, brushing your hand away with a playful insistence. “I think I’ve stuck myself up enough places inside you for this to not be a problem, babe.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but he was faster, his fingers brushing against your nose, nudging the ring down so it was visible. The small, silver balls glinted beneath your nose, a sudden reminder of a version of you he hadn’t seen in a while.

“There it is.” he whispered, his eyes soft as he took you in, his thumb brushing lightly over the silver ring as if rediscovering something precious. Then a glint of mischief flashed across his face, and he grinned. “Hehe, two little balls hanging…looks familiar.”

You rolled your eyes, amused, exasperated. “Oh my god, Alex. You are so mature.” But you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, warmth spreading through you as you tried – and failed – to keep a straight face.

He reached up, brushing his thumb over the bridge of your nose. You felt yourself melt slightly as he tilted his head, studying you with those eyes that somehow managed to see past everything.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost shy in a way that felt rare, “you look more like you, with this. Like the you I fell in love with.” His eyes traced your face, lingering over every familiar line and curve. You could feel his hand warm on your leg. “I mean, not that you aren’t you now, but…I don’t know, you look like you’re a little more…alive.”

You felt a flush creeping into your cheeks, not entirely sure what to say. But the honesty in his face held you there, kept you from pulling away as his fingers brushed over the small silver ring again. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. His eyes closed for a moment, savouring the simple contact, and when they opened again, there was a softness there, a vulnerability that he kept hidden from the world but shared with you in quiet moments like these.

“Maybe,” you said softly, fingers still resting against his cheek, “Poppy just wants to feel a little more like herself too. Maybe that’s what this is really about.” You watched him take in your words, saw the faint flicker of realisation cross his face as he thought it over.

He leaned his head back, his eyes gazing up at you with a quiet acceptance, like he was finally willing to meet you halfway. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining, holding you there with him, not pushing or pulling, just resting.

“Maybe…” he murmured, unsteady, as if he was still letting it sink in. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin. “I just don’t want her to be in pain.” he mumbled, his voice softer now, almost as if he were talking to himself rather than you. His eyes flicked to your nose, and then away again. There was something distant in him, reluctant and protective, like he was working through the idea in real-time.

He finally looked back up at you. “Does it hurt?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice, as if he were asking for the first time.

“A little.” you admitted, feeling the gentle throb where the ring rested, a reminder of the time it took to heal, of all the small aches that came with wanting something and sticking with it. “But I think she can take it. She’s a big girl now.”

He nodded slowly, but his lips pressed into a thin line, reluctant to fully agree. “Mhm…” he murmured.

You tilted your head, raising a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.” He tried to brush it off, but you caught the way his gaze drifted, a small crease forming between his brows. He looked like he was holding back, wrestling with some unspoken worry.

You waited, giving him space, until he finally let out a soft sigh, his shoulders sinking as he leaned back against the couch. “I know she’s growing up. And I know you think I’m being...old-fashioned, or whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just– she’s so small. So…I don’t know…I don’t want her to be hurt. Or regret it later.”

A slight smile tugged at your lips, and you brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “You realise that’s why they make the small, safe starter studs, right? It’s not like she’s going to get a septum piercing or go full rock and roll in kindergarten. It’s just earrings, Alex.”

He gave you a sheepish, lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. It’s just…she saw your ring, and suddenly I could see her all grown up, making her own choices, and it just hit me. Feels like I just blinked, and now she’s already asking for things I don’t know how to give her.”

You took his hand, feeling his fingers relax under yours as you squeezed gently. “She’s going to be okay, you know. She’s smart. And stubborn – she’s got that from you." 

“Hey.” he scoffed, pretending to be offended, but his smirk betrayed him. “I’m not stubborn. I just have strong…principles.”

“Right. Principles.” you echoed with a grin, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I think maybe the real problem here is you’re just not ready for her to need things from someone else besides us. She’s growing up, Alex. And it’s going to hurt a little – for all of us. But she’s brave, and we’ve done a good job with her.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing his face. “I guess…I guess I don’t want to mess it up, you know? She’s…she’s so full of life, and I don’t want her to lose that because of something I say or do.” He looked at you, his eyes soft and uncertain. “I want her to feel like she can be herself. Even if I don't get it, or even if it's something I never would’ve done.”

You nodded, brushing his hair back, letting him feel that you were there. “Then let her be herself. Earrings or no earrings, she’ll still look at you like her hero. The way she always does.”

He smiled at that, a little shy, a little boyish. “You think so?”

“I know so.” you replied, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, watching his face soften as you did. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you just sat there.

After a beat, he let out a chuckle, low and soft. “Fine. She can get the damn earrings.” he muttered, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face. “But I’m holding her hand the entire time. And I’m not leaving her side, even if it takes all day.”

“Deal.” you replied, your own smile mirroring his. “And afterward, we’ll let her pick out whatever sparkly, obnoxious earrings she wants. Even if they clash with her clothes for a month.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Perfect. And I’ll make sure to tell her how much of a trendsetter she is.” His tone softened, and he took your hand again, holding it tightly. “Thanks for…everything. And for reminding me. It’s easy to forget sometimes, but…I trust you, you know?"

You gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his hand. “Good. Because no matter how big she gets, we’re in this together. For every scraped knee and every new little piercing.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. And there, with his breath mingling with yours, he murmured, “Our little girl. She’s gonna be amazing, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, certainty settling back over you both. “She already is.”

a/n: pretty boring I guess...but I like it! got the idea from these requests x & x. also I feel like I was channeling @futuristicanoe in this. idk. their fic has been on my mind a lot these days and it seeped into this.

[kabsey]

rook/lucanis dessert scene rewrite

for a romance lock-in scene, this one was lacking to me. here's a quick draft of how i would have done it.

-------

Rook walks into the kitchen to find Lucanis cooking something. His back is to them, and he does not turn as they enter.

ROOK Something smells good.

LUCANIS (visibly startles) Rook! (glances behind him, then turns back, looking slightly disappointed) I... had hoped to finish this before you found me.

ROOK Planning to poison someone?

LUCANIS For that, I would have made soup. No, this is a dessert. For you.

ROOK Me?

LUCANIS To thank you for everything you have done. And to... apologize. The last time we spoke privately...

ROOK You mean the time we almost kissed and you ran away?

LUCANIS (smiles ruefully) Yes, that time. Spite was still angry with me then. He said things to hurt me.

ROOK Like?

LUCANIS Like that you could never care for someone like me.

ROOK Spite doesn't know my feelings.

LUCANIS He knows mine. My insecurities, my doubts... my desires. (moves closer to Rook) I can craft a death down to the smallest detail, but I don't know how to build a life. I might be terrible at it.

ROOK Or you might surprise yourself. You've certainly surprised me.

LUCANIS In a good way?

ROOK A very good way.

LUCANIS (moves closer until he stands just before Rook, their eyes locked) If you say you want this, then I will step right over the edge for you. With you. Gladly.

ROOK I want this. I want you.

They reach for each other and share a kiss full of promise... until Rook pulls back suddenly.

ROOK Is something burning?

LUCANIS Mierda! He rushes back to the stove as Rook laughs.

END SCENE

[overnightheartbeats]

Perhaps, Laurel spent a little too long watching his lips, caught up in the way he licked them. Oh, she was a goner. “Woah, you are really smart with your class schedule. How do you pick the stories you read?" His words saddened her, thinking of the prospect of someone being used to not having a home. But, the brief optimism was a good note. Surely, he'd find a home eventually, and while they were in school, she'd try to help find that space. "For my sake, I hope you're right about the lack of embarrassing." Her mind was already turning with ideas for Juju and Aaron's upcoming visit. "Hm, I'll need to bribe them too, to behave."

Despite the variety of topics they had covered already, this was what made her cheeks warm up with a pink flush. How he had only known her for this short amount of time, and yet he saw her. The way he spoke, he saw something in her that she hadn't really bothered seeing in herself lately. "That's very kind of you, I really appreciate it. I'll keep my glow on, just for you." The idea of cooking had never really enticed her too much, but now the prospect of jumping into this new adventure with him excited her. "Kitchen heaven, oh that sounds like our place. I'll plan that one, and I'll send you the details when we can take over the kitchen. Maybe, we each bring a recipe we want to try."

"As long as you don't want to be far from me, then I'll be buying all the portable fans. Well, hey I'm not complaining on the idea because it brought you here." The idea didn't seem too logical to her, but how could she judge it when it meant he arrived here with her? That had to be some version of destiny, if she even believed in all that. Laurel was hanging on to each word, a string pulling him toward her. Was he always so charming and romantic? "I..." her words trailed off, completely in a daze. "I'm inclined to believe that, I'm glad the string brought us here. Having us meet halfway, hm guess I'd just be curious why Texas, of all places." The thought of a string pulling him to a place that he didn't like was so interesting, completely grateful that he did listen to that string tugging him here. "The more, the merrier and I'd love to meet them. Maybe, get some of those stories about you." Laurel's smile remained, her curiosity on Colorado growing. He had the ability to make anything sound interesting, even a state she had never given second thought to. "There's more to Brazil than Carnival though, promise I'm not a party animal. I'm intrigued by Colorado now, and Panama, really? That sounds like a fun spot too, probably some really good beaches." Oh, she was completely pleased with herself when he agreed and gave her a look. Lucky for her, they both were not the sharing type. "Good to know, because I really have no intention of sharing you with anyone here. Just a heads up."

She was shaking her head, silently telling him it was not necessary at all. Laurel understood house rules, and really didn't mind just hanging out here, even on the floor. It beat being in her dorm listening to Jenny complain about being ditched earlier. But, Laurel looked at him and knew that there was no chance of saying no. "Okay, but only because you insist." She took the items Eli handed her, and nodded reluctantly. "I believe you," she said with soft laugh. "This is more than enough, don't worry. I'll be right back." With that, she stepped away to change. Changing into the bottoms was quick and easy, the hoodie - well, that had more thought going into it. He did say no outside clothes, her blouse definitely counted under that umbrella, but was it too bold to wear his hoodie with no shirt underneath? Maybe so, but she would follow instructions, so she pulled her blouse and quickly changed into the soft hoodie. Once her outside clothes were folded, she stepped back out and grinned widely. "Ta-da, fits pretty well! Confirming I'm free of outside clothes," she teased as she stuffed her clothes in her backpack for now.

"A lot of mishaps," he laughed, licking his lips after that small make out. The green apple aftertaste leaving traces on his lips. He would have thought she'd be a cherry type of girl but no even with chapstick she managed to surprise him. "M&M I call her that, she loves to be read stories. That's what we do every Friday night. It's why I only have that one class on Friday to make sure I've done my homework when I call her." He shrugged thinking by now he should be used to not having a home. He never had one before the Phillips scooped him up. "It's okay. I'm used to it. Maybe one day I'll find home." Eli's smile widened at the thought of getting stories of her. "I'll take it. Embarrassing? I highly doubt that. Any and all stories about you I'll be glad to hear."

"You're more than dust. You have a glow just some people can't see it. It's on them not on you." He gently squeezed her hand and smiled. "And that's enough. Always will be." Just because her mom didn't see her like that didn't mean she wasn't special. "Good. After all you can't dim your light for others. Not fair to you." Cooking and having a knack to learn seemed like a good combo. "Sounds like we're a match in kitchen heaven."

He couldn't help but smiled amused. "Carry a portable fan with you at all times. That way I don't have to be too far away from you. I know. It wasn't the brightest idea to move here but I also think it lead me to you. I am not sure if I believe in that but also not really a coincidence we met before we actually met. It was like," he thought about it. "A string pulling me toward you. Have you ever felt that?" Nodding his head he didn't think she'd take him up on it so quick but was glad she had. "Winter break coming up. Let's do it. I'm sure my sisters will love to join if you're okay with that. I need to see if they can come or one will be missing. Not sure Isa and hia schedule." He had to think hard on if he did go anywhere he had wanted to. "No. We stayed local or if we felt really adventurous we went to Colorado. But bucket list items for sure. Brazil? That is cool. That reminds me of one I forgot. Panama." He bumped into her and gave her a look. "Neither am I very good at sharing."

Eli turned around and sighed trying to find his sweater he hadn't worn in the week. Once he did he took it out and found bottoms that would fit her. Last time Inez bought him pants they were a little too tight so now they seemed like they'd fit Laurel. "Here, get comfortable. You can't stand or sit on the floor. You're my guest. I insist." His black striped hoodie was the one he gave her and handed her the bottoms. "These should fit you. I have an extra toothbrush in the drawer in the bathroom so feel free to use that. I promise it's brand new." Now he was thankful the Phillips siblings gave him so much in their care package. "If you need anything else let me know."

[giuseppe-yuki]

Kimi builds a pool for his tiger gf, tell me im wrong

🐅

ofc he does, cause he’s literally the best boyfriend ever!

it starts off as an offhand remark, when you are straight up burning to a crisp in the afternoon sun. you don’t think he even heard you, since he’s too busy shoving himself into his fireproofs and suit for yet another test drive around the track, while you stand by at the edge of the garage with sunnies perched on your nose, lemonade in one hand, and collapsible fan on another.

you only realize that he did hear you when he nudges you while you’re sprawled on the top of the covers of the bed late at night a few days later. you’re wearing one of kimi’s old branded karting shirts and the shortest shorts you could find in your drawer, trying your best to cool off, even in the cooler temperatures at night. he turns his ipad around to show you an extremely detailed and most likely physically impossible blueprint for a pool that he had apparently drawn in his notes app. it involves an abundance of waterslides, a mini tidal wave section, a waterfall, bar, and a pond area that he says ‘will be filled with fish so you can practice your natural hunting skills.’

you laugh at kimi’s extremely interesting artistic renditions of you as a tiger, catching a fish from the pond in his blueprint, until you realize that kimi’s being completely serious about it. at that point, you just kiss his cheek and thank him for being so thoughtful.

a week later, on a random thursday afternoon, you come home to see people in your backyard with very professional looking measuring tapes, looking like bob the builder with their yellow construction caps. you send a quick text to kimi, who is at the track yet again, a concerned text, but he just sends back “😈”, whatever that means.

by the time that all is said is done, you are left with a simple yet quaint little rectangle pool in your backyard. there’s no waterslides, mini tidal wave section, waterfall, bar, or pond area with little fish like kimi promised, but it’s pretty nice all the same.

what else to do at that point but to host a pool party? kimi invites all his prema friends, and pretty soon, you’re paddling around the pool in your tiger form with kimi while dino and his girlfriend, in her own komodo dragon form, sunbathes on the reclining chairs next to pool. paul is trying to drown ollie in the deep end while paul’s songbird girlfriend flits around ollie’s girlfriend, who is doubled on the ground, laughing.

[lonewolflupe]

Yesss I have commissioned artwork to share with you all <3

This gorgeous and most precious artwork of my OC Lupe and her love Fives was done by the magnificent @amalthiaph! She was one of the first artists I encountered when I started my Tumblr-journey, and I've always wanted to commission her one day. And look at this: it's a dream come true ❤️

Some ramblings below the cut, but let me tell you what an absolute joy it was to commission Amalthia! Thank you so much! <3

About the commission

It was such a pleasure commissioning artwork from Amalthia! As you can see, her art is stunning and I absolutely adore her unique style! I commissioned her through Ko-fi and se was super quick to respond. She contacted me through Tumblr to ask about some preferences and to share WIPs with me, always checking if she had the details right before continuing. This was actually the first time I ever commissioned someone, and it was a very great experience. I could totally recommend anyone to get a commission from her. Amalthia, thank you so much for the gorgeous artwork, for the wonderful service and for the overall great experience! <3 I might be coming back during another round of your commissions for some more!

About the art

This is my Jedi OC Lupe (I adopted her name as my online nickname here on Tumblr) from my ongoing longfic A Lupe Of Faith. After a most chaotic first encounter with Fives, they keep meeting and causing mayhem at 79's until one thing leads to another, and they fall in love. They end up developing a very strong, loving bond, with a deep care and mutual understanding for each other in between all the horrors of war they both go through. I asked Amalthia to picture them as 'partners in crime', looking both lovingly and mischievously at each other, as it's such an important part of their relationship (and how they ended up being together in the first place). I've put so much of myself into Lupe, and I fell in love with Fives myself as I wrote my longfic, so their bond is very dear to me.

Amalthia pictured it perfectly, and once again, I want to thank her for that. I will cherish this piece forever, and I couldn't be happier with it. Thank you thank you thank you <333

I just can't stop looking at them they are so precious I love them

[haruka-vii]

Help request to Rayman and retrogaming fans

Unfortunately, as much as I’m making efforts in solving my long-term unemployment situation there are things out of my control and I reached a point I really, really, need help.

Besides my grandma’s recent passing, there’s been a collection of unlucky events happening to me and my family in a small time interval. Both our dish washing machine and my Nintendo Switch Lite need to be repaired. The console stopped turning on regardless what I do and it’s out of warranty already. The console’s fixing, alone, can be up to 103€ according to the Iberian Nintendo support page).

But the worst case was our car’s “death”. Days after my grandma’s funeral, the car burnt its electronic system to the point of replacing that system being more expensive than the current value of the car of the same model without problems, meaning we were forced to replace the whole vehicle to a different model. The car is essential for our quotidian lives even for simple things such as doing groceries and buying food and cat litter for our seven small felines that we own. The latter unpredictable expense is very costly and adds a bigger layer of problems on my family’s end about financial management given that my mother is also jobless and there’s the bed replacement (done in January 2024) funds I want to also return to her whenever I manage.

2025 is going to be a difficult year for me and I already recently had to shrink down my Crash Bandicoot collection to a single item for a start but it’s still not enough. Now I had to make a very difficult decision of selecting personal items from my private Rayman collection and make them available to anyone in the Rayman and retrogaming fan community to be able to purchase in case they show interest in any particular object.

Please note the following details:

Products that are shown alongside with other product or more in the same photograph square means that those items are only sold as a pack/batch and not separately. I can clarify which ones by DM if you aren’t sure through the photographs.

I ship to most countries in the world, and always with tracking code so we’re both able to know its whereabouts. I won’t accept other types of shipping due to safety reasons.

The shipping address and other sensitive information will be exclusively used to ship the parcel.

Prices will be always discussed by DM, as well shipping costs as these vary depending on the destination country and parcel weight.

PayPal only for payments. While I prefer EUR currency I can also accept GBP and USD.

I’m conscious of how a good portion of the list contains particularly rare and valuable collectibles.

Some items prices are negotiable, especially if someone is interested in acquiring at least 3 different items or more that combined make up a significant total.

All items work 100%, including the Playstation accessories.

The Rayman memory card will be formatted if it gets a new onwer.

MS-DOS era games require emulation techniques to work on modern computers and there are community projects like Rayman Control Panel that help with that.

All games are complete in the box and between very good condition to like new.

The Rayman memory card is in good overall state.

The statues are like new and will be packed carefully to avoid transportation damage.

I can consider including the matching Switch videogame to the pack if I get a fair offer.

I reserve the right to not accept a sale for reasons not mentioned here.

List of items available in the photos:

Rayman Gold [PC/MS-DOS] (Rare, Original Big Boxed United Kingdom Edition)

Rayman For Ever [PC/MS-DOS] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition, it even includes a Ubisoft catalogue with unique Rayman drawings)

Quick CD-ROM Demo Nº2 - Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc [PC/Windows]

Rayman M [PC/Windows] (United Kingdom Edition, still factory sealed!)

Rayman Rush [Sony PlayStation] + DualShock Controller [Sony PlayStation]

Rayman 2: The Great Escape [PC/Windows] (Very rare, Original Big Boxed United States of America Edition; I only saw maybe not more than 2 copies like this for sale online in over 15 years)

Rayman 100 Niveaux Inédits [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition)

Rayman Designer [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition)

Rayman 1 [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed European Edition)

Rayman Gold [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition)

Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc [PC/Windows] (The manual is translated in Portuguese but the games are in multilanguage)

Rayman 2: The Great Escape Sony Playstation Memory Card (Guillemot brand, uncommon item)

Rayman Raving Rabbids [PC/Windows] (Original United Kingdom Edition)

Rayman Raving Rabbids Activity Centre [PC/Windows] (Original United Kingdom Edition)

Rayman 2: The Great Escape [Sony Playstation] (Original France and Germany Edition)

Full collection of 4 medium-sized PVC statues of Mario+Rabbids: Kingdom Battle characters

Other alternative ways to help me that don’t involve buying my Rayman items:

Ko-Fi donations (https://ko-fi.com/haruka_vii)

Currently opened with the goal I’ve referred earlier of collecting enough funds of the bed replacement expenses to return to my mother combined with the needed funds to be able to send my Nintendo Switch Lite for repair.

Art commissions

I can open a limited number of slots and draw single or groups of characters in a single digital or traditional drawing. Details can be discussed through DM!

Reblogging and sharing

If you know anyone who could be potentially interested in getting anything please share them, it’s also a help!

I don’t like to ask help but it’s been a rough timeline for me. Thank you for reading in advance, any help is greatly appreciated while I don’t manage to find a job. 🙏

[toxintouch]

Started out as an elaborate “draw me like one of your French girls” joke and spiraled outta control from there... @lu-dao-writes posted the same scenario in their Kinktober 2024 and they were kind enough to give me their blessing to post my take! Please check out their fics as well!  If this scenario in particular interests you, I rec you this post! :3

Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || VERE x AIS x Reader

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Vere, Dacryphilia (Tears)* + Cockwarming + Size Difference + Consensual Voyeurism. Power Play. (Some feral monsterfucking spice sprinkled v lightly on top.) [*original challenge prompt, randomizer used.]

OTHER INFO: “You” pronouns used for MC/Reader. Unspecified genitalia for both POV Character and Vere but Ais has a dick. Reader is the receiving partner in penetrative sex.

“Hmm, hold that pose,” Vere purrs.

Ais huffs a hot breath into your face as he freezes above you.  His brows furrow, mouth twisting into a determined grimace as he grits his teeth.  His forearms tense hard where they are resting on either side of you, fingers flexing against the silken sheets.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you.  A hot, insistent ache.

You try to relax, try to breathe through it but the lack of movement makes you hyper aware of every inch, the raw feeling of him stretching you open, the way your body twitches so sickly-sweet with the effort.  You inhale a slow, shaking breath, chest trembling, and shut your eyes in an attempt to block out some of the sensations—the clawing need gnawing at your core.

“Eyes open, darling,” Vere corrects you, tone somewhere firmly between scolding and teasing.  “And turn your face back towards Ais.  I’m trying to capture the moment .”  Your heart is pounding in your ears but you can hear Vere’s smooth, sly voice with perfect clarity.  Ais is an overwhelming force but Vere is a magnetic presence; no matter how caught up in each other you and Ais can get, Vere will always command attention without effort.

You turn your chin as requested, only to be caught in Ais’ gaze

(Caught and breathless–the same way you were when he was bullying his thick length into your hole, thrusting sharply and sighing in satisfaction, his fingers still at work massaging and pressing and stroking as he sunk into you inch by inch; he'd prepared you until your entrance was puffy and swollen, sopping with thick, medicinal smelling lube and he still had to take his time.  Fucking you slowly until you could take all of him.  And then, the moment you finally could...)

“Hmm, that's better.  Stay just like that.  Let me see those pretty expressions.”  You hear Vere adjusting his heavy vellum paper.  The glide of quick, clever lines being drawn.

You maintain eye contact with Ais, drunk off his breath, his body, the very essence of him, hovering so close above you, and are utterly unprepared to meet his intensity.  The way he looks at you like he’s seconds from devouring you, barely held in check by the challenge that Vere has laid before him.  Before both of you.

You bite into your lower lip as you shift involuntarily, oversensitive nerves still riding the throbbing of Ais’ dick.  He’s so fucking thick and girthy that he presses at the soft spot inside you without even trying. The angry pulse of him is a gratifying thrum, stoking your aching heat by way of mere burgeoning contact.

His cock gives another strong twitch and your insides clench around him.  He feels so fucking good–you almost think you might be able to come like this, if you can get your body to keep on clenching like that. 

—Almost.

Your next breath comes out as a sob.  There’s a high pitched whine building at the base of your throat and your lashes are wet when you blink.

A monstrous snarl escapes Ais’ lips, one that you can feel even more than you can hear, the vibration of it echoing through your body everywhere you're pressed against him.  The pinnacle between your thighs pulses with it, and your toes curl involuntarily as an errant tear runs down your cheek.  Ais is shaking, sweat dampening his face, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly, his eyes locked on you as he barely holds himself back.  “Sparrow,” he says, gravel in his tone. 

You say his name in return, your head tipping involuntarily, bearing the softness of your throat, faded marks from both your lovers decorating your skin.  You hear the sheets rip below you, torn into shreds where Ais’ nails have dug into them.

Vere sighs pointedly.  You hear him stop his work, tap his charcoal against the paper as if he’s not entirely satisfied with the scene in front of him.  He pauses for a long time, leaving you both in limbo.

When he moves, it’s to stand.  To saunter over to you both.  You’re pinned beneath Ais, unable to look away, but you can feel Vere’s shadow fall over you just before his hand touches your face, forcing your eyes to his as he catches a crystalline tear with his index finger.

“Shame,” he says, dipping his fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up the taste of your tears, lavishing the digits with his tongue.  You whine out a desperate, quiet note just from watching his tongue at work and he basks knowingly in the attention.  “I really thought I could get you both crying.”  He smiles dangerously once his fingers have left his mouth. 

He uses them to drag a wet path down Ais' spine.  “Oh, but the night is still young.  Perhaps I may still think of something that will do the trick...”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦"Kinktober Speedrun & Other Gratuitous (TOUCHSTARVED) Smut" on Ao3

[rnadett]

If Cait didn’t process alone, i think we would have seen her and Vi fall into a co-dependent relationship. Some fans are so quick to judge her character all the time, especially right now. I get it to a certain extent but man their media literacy and empathy are both very low. Just because she grew up wealthy doesn’t mean she can’t grieve or make mistakes

Yes, exactly!! I think both of them need to process and figure things out on their own. Cait haters just love to ignore facts and details, literally making things up for their own benefit. Also, these are the people who are the loudest and get the most credit on Twitter and TikTok. I saw a screenshot from a TikTok video with more than 40k likes, talking complete bullshit about her character. It just boils my blood—like pigeons on a chessboard.

[silverdune]

nice to see (right through) you again | s.mg

"i hope that we can spend that time together in earnest."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked. character(s): gn!reader, song mingi (jung wooyoung) tags: librarian!reader, ghost!mingi, ambiguous relationship, slight suspense, conversations about life and death, references to past death/cause of death (car accident), gothic vibes, explicit language, brief anxiety attack, wy is a co-worker, light fluff, heavy angst word count: 14.1k summary: it's been two years since you met mingi for the first time. it's been a year since you last saw him. it's december again, and much has changed since your second encounter.. a/n: so, it was originally my intention to write this for halloween, but personal life got in the way and that unfortunately ended up not happening 😭 it also ended up being way longer than i intended (like, i really thought this was going to be 5k max 🙃); i decided to change some details so they work better with the overall story, and this also ended up being a bit darker in tone than i intended??? please heed the warnings, and if you do decide to read, feedback is very much appreciated!

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

×-×

The library you worked at was open until 8pm every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, and you always had the job of locking up. You didn’t mind it one bit, often savouring the quiet that the hour alone gave you once your colleague departed.

But the hour wasn’t so quiet, as fifteen minutes into you rearranging the books back to their appropriate places and dusting the shelves, a lamp mysteriously fell off one of the desks and crashed on the floor.

You’re at least thankful you were only holding a cloth.

Upon inspection, the bulb in the lamp hadn’t broken - thank God - but you replaced it on the desk with a heightened wariness. None of the windows were open, and even if they were, it wasn’t like the wind was going to be strong enough to knock a whole lamp over.

Personally, you were only semi-superstitious. While cosying up with a good ghost story was one of your favourite pastimes, and you found the history of haunted places to be incredibly fascinating, you’d never wager that anything paranormal would happen to you. Besides, the library didn’t have a history of being haunted, and none of your colleagues had ever reported mysterious activity worthy of investigation by ghost hunters or, in the extreme cases, expulsion from a priest.

Shaking your head, you adjust the lamp on the desk to make sure it doesn’t fall over again, and rationalise that it had probably been on the edge of the desk. Someone had accidentally jolted it and not realised its precarious position. No bother. At least it wasn’t broken.

You returned to your task; the incident had knocked five precious minutes of your time off, so you hurried around the ground floor of the library, making quick work of the shelves and the desks. You were now especially careful around the lamps, not wanting to actually break one.

A few moments later, there was a loud thump behind you.

Startled at the sudden noise, you swiftly pivoted on the spot to find three books had been knocked onto the floor.

Okay, you thought, what the hell is going on?

There was no way those books could have fallen off the shelves unless someone purposely threw them.

Moments later, you watched as another book protruded from the shelf. The motion was akin to being pulled, as though there was an invisible person looking for a book to read.

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering the possibility of there being a ghost in your library. What exactly did this ghost want? Could you rationalise trying to communicate with them?

Your mouth parted open and you uttered a noise, and the book immediately fell on the floor, causing you to jump back.

“Whoa- um..” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried again. “H-Hello? Is there anyone there?” A sigh escaped you; what were you doing? Your eyes briefly looked askance at the clock on the wall. Time was running out and you still had an entire upper floor to clean. All you needed to do was pick the books up off the floor, replace them on their shelves and get back to it.

So why were you frozen in place, bound to the possibility of an actual ghost standing just a few metres from you?

Inch by inch, you crept forward, hoping that maybe if there was a ghost, they would understand that you weren’t exactly frightened or upset with them, you just wanted to talk, or at the very least, help them with whatever they needed, be it anything at all.

It wasn’t lost on you that trying to broach communication with a semi-corporeal stranger who was likely centuries old was probably a waste of time. Not only that, but if you did manage it, it would be incredibly difficult to explain to your colleagues the next time you saw them. It wouldn’t exactly be news for the group chat.

As you stumbled forward towards the shelves with the missing books, you briefly looked down to see that they hadn’t fallen very neatly. It was almost more surprising; had they fallen too neatly it would at least explain the bizarre, paranormal nature of the event.

It wasn’t long before you started to notice just how cold the room had become. Maybe it hadn’t stood out to you before, but you suddenly had the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and when you next exhaled, a distinct cloud left your lips.

Cold room, objects mysteriously falling off of surfaces.. you’re shocked that the ghost hadn’t tampered with the lights yet.

Just then, a light flickered above you.

“Shit..” you muttered under your breath. These things were all very typical of the books you liked to read. Perhaps you’d read one too many in the last month or so.

Your cool demeanour faltered even further when another book came flying off the shelf. You were close enough by that point to actually see what the subject of the books were; to your shock, none of these books were ghost stories, and in the bleary haze of being substantially rattled by this situation, you almost forgot that you were actually standing by the poetry section.

You wrapped your cardigan around your body and sighed. “Alright, enough games, who are you and what do you want?”

You found yourself defaulting back to the style of address you’d seen in movies and ghost hunting TV shows. In all fairness, confronting a presence from beyond the grave that had found a way to set foot in the mortal realm turned out to be horrifying.

The ghost seemed to be in fairly low spirits; you weren’t sure how you knew, but something about the way they interacted with the world made you believe they were in a bad mood. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You had to approach this from a different angle.

Crouching to the floor, you picked up the last book that was pulled off the shelves and stood straight. This was a recent addition to the collection, you remember adding it to the shelf a few weeks ago: a poetry collection by Edgar Allan Poe.

“You like Poe?” You froze for a second. “Wait.. are you Edgar Allan Poe?” The question came out half-jokingly, like you couldn’t believe the Allan Poe would be haunting the quaint library you worked at.

A light, airy rumble seemed to filter through the air. Had the ghost just.. laughed?

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.” You flicked through the collection. You liked Edgar’s poems enough, though skimming through this particular anthology put you back in the lecture halls and the library of your university, where you’d analyse his and others’ poems with a fine toothed comb until your brain hurt.

You placed the book flat on the shelf and went to pick up the other three. They were all collections from Poe.

“Wow, you really like his poems, huh?” You chuckled to yourself, then replaced all four books back to their original places.

For how cold the room was a few minutes ago, you were gradually starting to notice it less and less.

Folding your arms, you turned back to the general area where you thought the ghost might be, but it wasn’t like you’d ever be sure of that.

Not unless they revealed themselves.

“So..” you began. You shook your head in disbelief at trying to attempt communication, but shifted the embarrassment to the back of your mind. If all else failed, you would assume the ghost had just randomly disappeared and then finish your task in record time. “If you are there, where are you exactly? What’s your name?”

The temperature seemed to shift as a cool breeze passed by. Your back almost hit the shelf in bewilderment, and you watched as the lamp on the nearby desk - the same one that fell before - flickered on and off. It was a very deliberate act, with seconds in between the light turning on and off.

“I see.. H-Hello..”

A light gust flew over your head. You imagined they replied.

All of the computers had been shut off, but in an instant, the one on the desk before you lit up with its familiar log-in screen. You collided with the shelf and jolted all of the books; you brought a hand to your chest and felt the heavy thrumming in your ribcage.

The ghost typed something into the credentials bar.

Gradually, you stepped forward. The typing speed was at a snail’s pace, only one letter every five seconds.

Once the typing stopped, you took a closer look at the words.

hello my name is song mingi

“Song Mingi?” You straightened your back and took a deep breath. “Well.. It’s nice to meet you, Song Mingi.”

Your eyes were wild with amazement; either the ghost died after computers had come into fashion, or they had been dead long enough to learn how computers work in the modern era.

Unexpectedly, they deleted the words and wrote new ones.

you can call me mingi i died in 1968 i was a writer

“Huh.. I suppose that explains your love for Poe in some respects?” Another light rumble sounded.

yes he was a great inspiration i wrote many poems

“I see.” You thought hard on whether the name, Song Mingi, rang any bells, but to no avail. “Did you ever publish your poems? It’s just.. If I may be frank, I haven’t heard your name before.” never had the chance i was 25

Your eyebrows shot up. “My God.. I am so sorry to hear that.” A sombre atmosphere cascaded across the entire library. You panned over to the clock on the wall and noticed your shift was nearly, officially, at an end.

You heard more vigorous typing and turned back to the computer.

are you almost due to go home i am sorry i will not keep you

“Oh! Please- Don’t apologise. You weren’t to know.” You tapped your chin and hummed. Perhaps you could stay for a little longer..

are you thinking of staying

A sigh escaped your lips. An extra half an hour wouldn’t hurt.

“I will stay for a little while. Until half 9.”

For some reason, you felt the ghost’s - Mingi’s - mood lift. The computer immediately shut off.

You blinked a couple of times. The cold returned instantly, causing you to wrap up even warmer than you already had. A firm cloud left your lips upon exhaling again, and the tips of your ears began to go red.

The blinds rattled against the windows, and the lamp stuttered in and out of light to the point you thought the bulb might break. Your feet were planted to the floor, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t move a single limb.

Behind you, beams of light shone through the gaps in the shelves to the point you had to cover your eyes.

Eventually, the light faded, the cold subsided, and the noises stopped.

Instead, there was a man standing behind the shelf.

Slowly, the man revealed himself from behind the structure.

Coming face to face with Song Mingi was quite the rollercoaster. Once an amorphous entity typing away on the computer in fragmented bites, now a real, tangible human standing just a few centimetres away.

The sight chilled your spine from top to bottom. You weren’t sure how to even approach talking to him now that he’d revealed himself.

It took a few seconds to even take his appearance in. Tall, blonde, a rather casual, plain outfit consisting of a black shirt and jeans.

Mingi smiled at you. “Thank you for staying. I appreciate it.”

You breathed a chuckle, unsure of yourself despite having incentivised his reveal. “You’re- You’re welcome..!”

He turned the corner and picked the book from the top of the pile of the four he had dropped earlier. “I apologise for startling you. I had tried to manoeuvre three books at once, thinking I could manage it, but alas, I could not.” He casually flicked through the book, as though it was 9am and he was an average visitor to the library inquiring about your recommendations.

You nervously chewed the inside of your bottom lip as you watched him alternate between the four books. You seemed to have so much to say before; talking with an invisible entity somehow proved to be a much easier task.

Mingi replaced the four books after a while then turned to face you. “So.. what’s your name?” he emphasised, light-heartedly alluding the irony of you knowing his and not him knowing yours.

You flexed your shoulders back and lifted your chin. “N.”

“N? Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would shake your hand but trust me, I am sub-zero, it would not be pleasant.”

You laughed, genuinely, and sighed loudly when it hit you that you were having a full-on conversation with a ghost. If your colleagues ended up believing you, they would never let you live it down. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance in return, Mingi.”

Mingi nodded his head, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “Say, how long have you been a librarian?” he inquired, hand clasped over his wrist across his abdomen like an inspector.

“Um, about three years?”

“No kidding? Have you always wanted to be a librarian?”

You shrugged. It wasn’t your top career of choice but you were content with your position. “I like it. I would probably do something like go into interpreting or be a copywriter if I had the opportunity, but I’m happy to be a librarian.”

“Ah, much like myself, in some ways. Wordsmith.”

The remark almost made you snort. Mingi flexed a brow. “In some ways, I suppose.” Things went comfortably silent for a time; truly odd. “Was Poe your only inspiration to become a writer?”

Mingi paced across the floor towards the other side of the room. “No, I had many inspirations. Shelley, Stoker, the Brontës.”

“Ah, man of classic literature.”

“Indeed.” He had a sudden thought. “Say, computers have become incredibly advanced in the last fifty years, haven’t they?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You clicked a few keys and hummed a giggle. “Hm, 1968, you said..” Mingi tilted his head. “I suppose you must have seen computers in some of their earliest stages?” It came out as a question, not wanting to assume anything about Mingi’s life.

“Hm..” He pondered long and hard. “Not personally. I saw pictures of computers in newspapers and read several books about them, but I never used one and my family didn’t own one, when, well..” He trailed off and shied away.

You caught on immediately. Not wanting to pry any further, you changed the subject.

“What’s your favourite poem by Edgar?”

Mingi glanced up at you. “The Raven. I always liked the poems on the more gothic side, which you could argue is most of his catalogue but, The Raven has a distinct energy to it that has made me revisit it time and time again.”

“I suppose you were hoping to find it in one of those books?” you asked.

Mingi nodded. “But I suppose that search can wait now, since I have company.” The corners of his lips tilted upwards, and you found yourself doing the same in response. Of course, there were many questions on your mind, but you didn’t want to intrude on anything personal that could potentially upset him. Besides, it seemed especially rude to ask him about the circumstances of, well..

A part of you couldn’t help but think that the topic would be broached eventually; it just seemed inevitable now that you had met the ghost.

But Mingi seemed reluctant to share the information, at least for now, and that made total sense. This was completely different from any so-called activity you saw ghost hunters claim they experienced on their shows, where they’d usually throw out any and all questions in a desperate attempt to communicate. You had a duty to be respectful.

In the seconds of silence that befell, you decided to get back to tidying the desks. Mingi curiously watched you clean, and a humorous thought crept into your mind. “So, are you locked to the ground floor? Or could you travel upstairs if you wanted?”

Mingi chuckled, hearty and amicable. “I can move between the two spaces, yes. I take it you have to tend to the first floor as well?” You confirmed. “In that case, would you object to me joining you?” You shook your head, a smile cracking through the focused pout on your lips. “Excellent. Does the job ever get tedious? Cleaning, I mean.”

You shook your head again. “No. Honestly it helps pass the last hour of my shift away. It’d be a lot more boring if I had to just sit in the desk chair behind the counter the whole time.” Mingi conceded. “Plus, job’s gotta be done at the end of the day.”

“I suppose it has.” Mingi began to study his surroundings up close as if it was the first time he had ever visited. He passed by the community board where flyers for different events were pinned to the cork with tacks. He examined every decal on the wall as though they were an oddity. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him pick up a pamphlet and flick through it.

Another question popped into your mind. “So you can interact with the objects around you?” Mingi put the pamphlet down; for a second he thought you were scolding him. You assured him that you were just curious.

“I can touch things and pick them up if that’s what you’re asking.”You let out a curt hum. “So you have a corporeal impact on the physical space?”

He breathed a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.” He straightened his back. “I can effectively interact with the world as any alive human would. I can see and hear crystal clear. I can talk, laugh, make facial expressions and gestures with my arms and hands. I can appear to any human who welcomes my manifestation and disappear in the blink of an eye, like..” He vanishes, and your eyes widen. A second later, he returns. “See?”

“Wow.. But, I couldn’t hear you say words when you were invisible.”

“Yes. Once invisible, I behave as any regular ghost would. My interactions with the world become distant and I have to find other ways to communicate. I couldn’t pick up a pen and write as an invisible ghost, nor could I produce a handwritten word on a page, but as you saw earlier, I can manipulate the keys to type words on a screen. Don’t ask me how that works, I have no idea. I wager it’s because it’s less strenuous and can be done with a little bit of mind control.”

“Mind control? Sounds like science fiction.”

“Okay, perhaps that’s not the right phrase.” He rested his chin against his knuckle. “I have to seriously think about it and will my mind to affect objects.”

“So telepathy.. or telekinesis?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Huh.” You pondered this for a while. “That’s fascinating.. So those rumbles I heard earlier while you weren’t visible.. laughter?”

Mingi grinned; big, stupid, cheesy grin. “Yep. You’re learning fast.” He sounded genuinely impressed.

You shrugged a shoulder. “I have a duty of care to do so!” you light-heartedly quipped.

Mingi’s smile grew wider and you were immediately taken by it. He was so friendly, such a pleasant person to talk to. Your eagerness to learn what had happened conflicted heavily with the louder voice in your mind telling you to bite your tongue and be considerate. You shunned the smaller voice for wanting to know so badly, inevitably causing guilt to surge through your entire body and make you shrivel up on the spot.

Your face fell and you avoided his gaze. “Better head upstairs,” you said, almost inaudibly.

In a flash, you were on the first floor, barely giving Mingi any time to process. He was there in a second anyway; add ‘ability to teleport’ to the list.

For a short time, you clammed up, and felt ridiculous for it in the process. You weren’t the one in the position of having a living human feel potentially inquisitive about your death. Not that you had expressed this to Mingi, but since he had something akin to telepathic powers, it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew immediately, or at the very least, could cold read your intentions just by looking at your face.

You tried to put it to the back of your mind and focus on the genial dynamic that had begun to develop between the two of you. He was kind. He was courteous. He hadn’t ripped your library to pieces to prove a point. You huffed and shook your head; as if he would.

Mingi, hands behind his back, approached you from the doorway to the staircase and said, “Are you okay? I sense a sudden shift in mood.”

You chuckled weakly. “Were you a psychic in your past life?” you tried to joke, but it didn’t reach. If anything, it peeled back the entire façade.

Mingi regarded you with concerned eyes. You shifted your gaze to the floor, absent-mindedly throwing the cloth back and forth between your hands to keep them occupied. Neither of you knew what to say for a time, and the silence which had at one point been fairly comfortable had now grown more steadily disconcerting.

“I’m sorry, Mingi.” Mingi drew back in shock. “Maybe I’m not the best company.” You laughed out the words, hoping they could bring some levity to the atmosphere, but instead, Mingi’s expression clouded over and became more solemn.

“I don’t think that’s true at all, N. In fact, it’s been wonderful talking to you.”

His words were too sincere for your brain to comprehend. Your spine locked, and once again, you were rooted to the spot.

“Why do you think that way?” he wondered.

And you thought, how the hell do I answer this?

You sighed, knowing no matter how you tried to explain it, the words wouldn’t come out right. It dawned on Mingi that you could potentially be putting an early end to this meeting, and he suddenly wanted to do everything he could to stop it.

“Please, don’t go just yet. Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve only felt how gracious you’ve been, and I can’t imagine there’d be anything so terribly serious that it would make you bad company.”

You stared at him, the earnest revelation sending a shockwave over your body. Please, don’t go just yet..

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I- Okay.” Mingi smiled then, and you did too. You promised half an hour more. Perhaps you could stay for even longer..

“Say,” Mingi jumped in, interrupting your thoughts, “what’s your favourite book?”

A smirk lifted your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know..”

×-×

By the time you had eventually decided it was best that you go - much to your mutual sorrow - it was nearing 10:30pm.

Never before had you imagined you would stay behind at the library for this long, but this was a significant event, worthy of the extra time spent wandering the library and talking literature with Mingi.

You opened up to one another about your lives, your university experiences - coincidentally you had attended the same one - and your day to day routine. Mingi was especially interested to learn of this invention he knew only as a computer within a tiny screen.

You reached the entrance to the library, and as you were about to open the door, Mingi couldn’t help but remark on this frankly insane turn of events.

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

Mingi smiled; you missed the miniscule level of sadness within it. “It truly isn’t.”

“I’m not in on the late shift again until next Thursday.. Would I see you again?”

Mingi eyed you. Something flashed in his eyes, but again, you managed to miss it. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’ll see you.. hopefully.”

He shrugged. You rested your palm on the handle, and Mingi instantly evaporated.

Turning your back, you saw an empty space. You smiled.

You’ll see him soon.

×-×

Not a single night came where you saw him again after that point.

It was almost like he hadn’t visited you at all.

You decided against telling your colleagues; they probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

Every late shift, you waited for a sign that he would return. He never did.

The new year arrived, and you wondered if you had to wait until December to see him again.

With that thought in mind, you had nothing left to do but wait.

×-×

A whole year had passed since you first met Mingi, and you hadn’t confided in a single soul about the meeting.

How could you? You rationalised that if you had told any of your colleagues, they either wouldn’t have believed you or they’d have to shut the entire library down. It felt greatly selfish to keep such information from them, but at the same time, nothing major had happened in the last year, not any time before that that you can recall. It was as though a ghost had never been there.

Besides, you didn’t want to kick up a fuss and potentially cause them to lose their jobs from a place they loved.

And now, it was the one year anniversary of you having met Mingi for the first time.

Another late shift, coincidentally. You hadn’t realised until you looked at your work schedule for the coming week and noticed that the two shifts lined up perfectly.

As you had done for the last year, you wondered whether Mingi was waiting for the same day to come by and see you again.

It would make a lot of sense, and would explain why the library had been so quiet.

Your shift for the day was coming to an end, with only you and another colleague, a guy named Wooyoung, left to make sure everyone had gone so you could lock up.

Wooyoung turned to you once the clock struck 8pm and said, “Are you okay? You’ve been a little distant since you came in.”

You turned to him and shrugged a shoulder, outwardly oblivious to anything he could be referring to. “How do you mean? I’m totally fine.”

“I wouldn’t dispute that in any other case, but I don’t know.. Something feels off.” You shied away from his light questioning and went back to typing on the computer. “Has something happened? Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’m completely fine, I promise,” you reply, curbing some of the bite in your tongue. You didn’t want to snap at him, he didn’t deserve that, and really, you ought to tell someone about the situation.

Perhaps it was finally time to.

With a final sigh, Wooyoung's eyes still fixed on you, you turned back to him. “Okay.. Can I tell you this in confidence?” He nodded. “One year ago today, I met a ghost in this library.”

He drew back in shock, his eyes wide. “A-A ghost? Here?” You nodded. “Wow.. I don’t really know what to say to that, ha..”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” You shook your head. “You kept this to yourself for an entire year?” His tone was one of astonishment, but it wasn’t accusatory. You internally thanked him for that.

“I didn’t know how to!” you defended in a quiet voice. “It’s not something I wanted to go spilling to all of you over the group chat, y’know?”

He hummed, seemingly in agreement. “I get your point, but it’s not exactly something you should keep from everyone.” You sighed, conceding his argument. “So- did you actually see the ghost? Did it like- appear to you?”

“Yeah. Well, not initially. But then he revealed himself. He was standing by the poetry section-” You gestured to his location; you remembered it like it was yesterday. “He had knocked some books over by Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Ah, gothic poetry man.”

“Mhm. And then he started typing on the computer.” His jaw dropped. “I know!” You weren’t convinced Wooyoung was buying any of this sincerely, but his reactions helped you imagine that he was at least taking you somewhat seriously. “Told me his name was Song Mingi, and that he died in 1968.”

“Holy shit.. Wow.. So then he just appeared and you.. talked?”

“Yep! I know, don’t even say it..”

“It’s pretty crazy, I’ll give you that!” Wooyoung looked about the place. “So..” He brought his voice down to a whisper. “Are you expecting him to come back tonight?”

Your eyes met, and you exhaled. “I’m not expecting him to, as such.. But if he did, it would make sense.”

Wooyoung glanced at the clock. “So I assume he arrived some time after everyone was gone?”

“Yeah, when I was cleaning up.”

“So if he were to turn up again, he should be here pretty soon, huh?”

You hesitated to say that it was likely he wouldn’t turn up when Wooyoung was around, but to be honest, you weren't sure. Instead you simply nodded; maybe Mingi would turn up with Wooyoung still around.

Then, to your surprise, Wooyoung stepped out from behind the counter and went to grab his coat without another word.

“Wait- you leaving?”

As Wooyoung shrugged on his coat, he beamed that same old mischievous smile you’d come to associate with him. “Well, it wouldn't be particularly wise of me to stick around if a ghost is due to arrive any minute.” You expected mockery, but instead got frank sincerity. “And if there's been zero activity over the past year, it stands to reason that he’s been waiting for this specific day to come back.” You pulled a face at him, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” With a roll of your eyes, his smile widened. “I’ll see you tomorrow, N. Let me know how it goes!”

He unlocked the door, headed out of the library, and locked it behind him.

You hunched your shoulders for a second before dropping them with a huff.

You decided to just get on with your task of cleaning the place up. At the very least it kept your mind occupied.

Speaking of which, your mind kept going back to your parting words last year.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except when you asked him if you would see him soon.

‘We’ll see.’

We’ll see.

Your attempt to keep yourself occupied proved rather feeble as you kept eyeing the computer that Mingi had typed on; some things about the library had changed over the past twelve months, but the desks and computers had stayed right where they’d always been.

Nerves crept all over your spine as you turned away and continued cleaning the ground floor. Eventually, you went to the staff room and pulled out a vacuum cleaner.

Your efforts to distract yourself meant you were completely oblivious to Mingi’s entrance.

Mingi smiled for a brief second, and then the vacuum cleaner was turned on. “Je~ sus!” Mingi cried, extending the first syllable as he covered his ears. “What is that noi-” He poked his head into the staff room and watched as you swept the vacuum across the floor. He gently took his hands away then quickly replaced them, wincing in pain at the sheer decibels. It had been a long time since he was exposed to such noise.

All the while, you didn’t notice him standing there, too preoccupied with the task at hand. Some time passed, and Mingi considered shouting your name, but he refrained, not wanting to scare you.

Shortly after, you finally turned the vacuum off, and Mingi was able to remove his hands with a deep, relieved sigh.. which he quickly wished he could take back as his hands flew over his open mouth.

You spun in place and jumped back. “Shit!” you exclaimed.

“I- I am so sorry, please, forgive me-” Mingi brought his hands together in a prayer motion, and you put a hand on your chest just to let your heart calm down. You couldn’t even process that it was Mingi standing there before he spoke again. “I didn’t want to scare you, though I appreciate that I’ve done exactly that.”

Once your heart had calmed down enough for you to partake in conversation, you leaned the vacuum up against the wall and sighed. “When did you come in?”

“Mere seconds ago. A split second before you turned your..” He studied the contraption behind you with only a fraction of recognition. “Um..?”

“Oh- the vacuum cleaner?” You gestured to it, and he looked at you in shock. “Oh, yeah, um, a lot of these things don’t have cables anymore.”

“That’s a vacuum cleaner?” He pointed at it warily, suspicious of the veracity of your statement. You confirmed his suspicions, then it hit you square in the face that Mingi was.. back.

Mingi was back!

“..You’re here.”

Mingi dropped the subject once you said those words. He smiled at you and nodded. “Yes. I’m here.”

You put the vacuum back in the cupboard and walked over to him. “I didn’t think you would show.”

Mingi flexed a brow in bewilderment. “You didn’t?”

“Well.. I mean, what you said last year makes sense now. It truly isn’t every day. And ‘we’ll see’? You basically told me there and then that you might not come back. I wasn’t expecting you to..”

Placing his hands behind his back, Mingi timidly eyed the floor. “Did you hope that I would?”

You scoffed a laugh and scratched the nape of your neck. “I mean- I- Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?” you asked.

Your phrasing of the question made a distinct blush form on his cheekbones. “I’m glad to see you again too, N.”

The corners of your lips tilted upwards. The sun had long since set through the gaps in the blinds, and Mingi noticed that the streetlights were flooding the pavements in a golden hue. This caught your attention, and you turned your back. “Oh.” Shifting back to him, you asked, “Should I close them completely? Are they distracting?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not at all. Though I must admit, I’m glad you turned that machine off.” He poked a pinky finger into his ear and chuckled.

“Ah. I’m sorry, if I had been a few seconds late, I would’ve noticed you. So, are ghosts quite sensitive to noise?” The two of you left the staff room side by side, with you turning the light off before closing the door.

“Variably. I’ve heard that some ghosts can handle frequencies greater than dogs can handle, and others can barely hear above the low rumble of an engine.”

“That’s interesting. Where does your sensitivity lie?” You moved to close the rest of the blinds in the library.

“It leans to the lower end. Anything more than a high-pitched cry and it seriously hurts.”

“Hence the reaction to the vacuum.”

“Hence the reaction, though I should have just made myself invisible again and chosen any other way to reappear to you.”

“At the very least, I now know to be careful when you come by again!”

Pain flashed across Mingi’s face. He wasn’t quite ready to divulge anything yet, though he knew deep down your time together was short. As you were on the other side of the ground floor, you didn’t see him, and it allowed him a few seconds to openly and silently lament this fact as he stared at the poetry section, which had since been shifted to the back wall of the library.

Instead of dwelling on the truth, he decided to ask about the rearranging of the shelves. “I see the poetry section has a new home.”

“Oh! Yes.” You arrived at the poetry section where he was now standing, having closed the last blind, and folded your arms. “We did this about three months ago? Our boss came in and instructed us to move the books around to promote other titles, primarily romance and fantasy fiction.”

“I see. But poetry still gets a lot of love, I presume?”

You chuckled. “Every once in a while. I even read through those collections that you were interested in.”

He locked eyes with you. There was a vulnerability within them that managed to take you aback.

“Did you enjoy them?” he wondered, his voice quiet.

A lump formed in your throat. Do the paranormal know they can wield such power?

“Very much so. I recognised a lot of the poems from my university days, but the one you liked most, The Raven, was completely new to me.” Mingi hid his face; your unabashed display of affection for his favourite works of art proved stifling to behold. “‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary-” Mingi’s eyes shot up. “Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping; As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door; ‘Tis some visitor’, I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door, only this and nothing more.’”

Silence filled the entire space, so much so the entire world could have fallen still.

You shrugged off your ability to quote a whole verse from memory and smiled meekly at the books on the shelf. “And so on, and so forth..”

Mingi stared at you, distant thrumming in his ribcage at the almost siren-like quality of your rendition.

“N.. That was.. fantastic.”

Your eyes met for a small moment; you swallowed hard. “I was just quoting his poem, ha..”

Mingi couldn’t abide by your lack of awareness. He shuffled forward in an effort to convince you of your leverage, but you moved away before he could even step an inch towards you.

Once again, you distracted yourself with cleaning the shelves.

Mingi simply looked at you, unable to ascertain to what extent you recognised the meaning of your encounter.

On the inside, you were fighting with every fibre of your being to figure out the significance.

The answer initially seemed obvious. He only showed up once, on this very day, and it had only been the year before and now.

But there was clearly something else afoot? The poem, the day, the location. It struck a nerve when you realised you had managed to quote a verse from memory, and you froze in place at the revelation.

The air was heavy between you. You turned back and noticed that Mingi was still looking at you.

Taking a deep breath in, you plucked up the courage to say what had been on your mind for months.

“It seemed too obvious before but.. this day. You’ve only visited on this day..” Mingi turned to face you head on. “Did you.. die on this day?”

With that, Mingi’s body took on a more transparent form.

You cried out, “No!” He held up his hand in reassurance.

“It’s okay. This is the first piece of the puzzle.” Your eyes began to well up with tears. Surely your meetings weren’t over yet, they couldn’t end so quickly. “And at the very least, the other two pieces are slightly more difficult, so I won’t be saying goodbye just yet.”

The words stung, and your chest tightened. You were far from ready to say goodbye to Mingi, the two of you had just met. You had so many more things to learn about one another.

Mingi regarded his transparent form and sighed. “I had no idea how it would manifest, but this doesn’t surprise me.”You shook your head, unable to get the words out. What had you done? Why did you quote that poem?

Covering your mouth, you sobbed loudly and walked away.

“N?” he called after you. “N, please don’t worry.” He followed you to where you were standing by the desks, and placed a hand on your shoulder. The chill made you shudder, and you quickly noticed that his hand didn’t have the same weight as a living human’s would.

He immediately took his hand away and stood in front of you. Your tears were evident, and he frowned at the sight.

“I- The poem-” you stuttered. “What have I done?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He shook his head, reaching his hands out to console you. “N, I promise, you reciting that poem did nothing but fill me with joy. I’ve never seen someone take such an interest that they were able to quote it from memory!” He beamed, and it shone through the translucency of his figure. “Truly, I am the happiest man ever to find a kindred soul.”

You clutched the collar of your shirt and looked at him ardently. The answer was in his eyes; the solutions to these riddles were woven into every inch of his skin. Even as every part of you struggled to work it out, you were hit with the sense that the equations would be too easy, and that frightened you.

Slowly, your hand fell to your side.

“One.. of three puzzles?”

He blinked; transfixed by your gaze, he missed your words entirely. “Hm?”

“You said that was the first part, and there were too more.”

It was his turn to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

Chewing on the insides of your bottom lip, you breathed in, then out. “The day, the poem, the location.”

Tears began to pool around his own eyes. You were learning new things about the paranormal all the while; they still had the capacity to express emotion. “Yes.”

You wanted to stall your problem solving until the very end of these meetings, but you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t work them out at all. Was Mingi on a time limit? Did he need to go to the light before that time ran out?

Your breath hitched. That’s exactly what it was.

But why here? Why now? Why that poem?

..Why you?

Nothing made sense as much as every piece began to fall into place. You were stuck looking at him, hoping desperately for the clues to reveal themselves while wanting them to stay in the shadows forever.

Suddenly, your eyes panned to the clock on the wall. 9pm.

Your shift had come to an end.

Per last time, you only allowed yourself another ninety minutes at the library, and was hoping to do the same again tonight, when your phone buzzed on the reception desk, startling the both of you.

You headed over and picked it up; it was a call from your mother.

“May I take this?” Mingi nodded, recognising the object to be a mobile phone. “Thank you.” You answered, your voice still shaky, as much as you tried to hide this from her. “Uh, hi, Mom..! Yeah, I’m okay. Am I still at the library? Y-Yeah, I, um- Oh. Yeah, I guess I could come round for a little while. I’m, uh-” A big part of you didn’t want to say this, but you knew you had to. You gave Mingi an apologetic look, and he smiled sincerely in return. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up and then I’ll be round. Okay. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes. Okay. Okay, bye.”

Once you ended the call, you choked a sob and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. This reaction was equal parts understandable and confusing. It was all too overwhelming; what exactly were you crying for?

Mingi stepped forward. “I suppose you’ll be paying your mother a visit?”

Still teary-eyed, you nodded and said, “I’m sorry for abruptly leaving like this.”

He waved his hand to undo any potential guilt you could be feeling. “There is always next year.”

And no year after that, you couldn’t help but think.

Your departure was abrupt, awkward, and not at all what you imagined for your second encounter with Mingi.

As you reached for the handle, you shed a tear and looked back at him. You couldn’t believe it was over so quickly. “I promise that next year, I will make as much time as possible for you.”

Your words warmed Mingi’s heart, and he smiled, trying to hold back tears of his own. “I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.”

You matched his expression. He vanished before your very eyes.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you left the library.

×-×

Another year passed, and in that time, you continued to reveal nothing about Mingi to anyone you knew or met.

In a lot of ways, you felt like this was for you and you alone, with Wooyoung being the only person you ever divulged anything to. A part of you wondered if Wooyoung would ever forget, but every time you saw one another, his eyes would shimmer in a way that let you know he remembered, and that he probably wouldn't forget for a long time.

Maybe you should have kept it firmly under wraps, but there was no time for regret.

The third December rolled around, and that was to be the night that changed everything.

×-×

So much has changed over the past year.

You often questioned whether you could forget such an event; meeting a ghost in person, twice, surely that was something that would stick with you for the rest of your days.

Six months after the second meeting, you had found a new job as an intern for a copywriting company. It was one of the only times you had thought about that second encounter since it happened, and you had honestly felt guilty about leaving the library behind. You felt you owed Mingi something, and that by leaving you were tarnishing something important.

But this was real life! An opportunity fell into your lap when you least expected it, and your colleagues, including Wooyoung, had all given you shining references: you had to take this chance!

Summer in a new job gave you a lease of life you hadn’t felt in a while, and it was refreshing to say the least. Autumn approached before you even had a chance to process it.

The job placed you a great distance from the library, meaning you have to travel a few extra miles just to get to work. It’s thrilling, exciting, new. While you loved your time at the library and everything that came with it, you never once imagine yourself doing anything different, and your old colleagues profusely agree. You still keep up with them, never having the heart to leave the group chat, but between your busy schedule and the extracurricular activities your workplace has you involved in, you’ve never had a chance to go back and see them.

That is, until one fateful day off in December.

You wake up with the express intention of visiting the library today. You hadn’t moved, you still lived in the same place, but since you commuted to work so much and hadn’t seen them in so long, you feel so far away from them all the time.

Your morning routine goes as usual. The library is open until late today anyway, you’ll have plenty of time to see them.

You pick up your phone to check the time, but your eyes zero in on the date.

It’s an oddly familiar one, as though something pertinent happened on this day in the past and yet, you’re struggling to work out what.

Bless your mind for being so flooded with other priorities.

You eat lunch, drink coffee, and decide around 3pm that now is the perfect time to pay them a surprise visit.

The journey to the library is short, perhaps made even shorter by how stoked you are to see your friends again.

Lying dormant in the background is an unsettling feeling that you can’t shake for some reason. You clear your throat. Maybe it’s just the weather.

As you enter the library, you open your arms wide, doubtlessly confusing everyone inside, while your colleagues cheer as quietly as they can and run over to you.

They all whisper variations of the same sentiment of how much they missed you as you pass hugs around the whole group. You pull away after a while and take a good look at the old place. It’s changed so much since you were last there.

Once the library is a bit quieter, they pull you into the staff room for a long awaited catch up, sharing back and forths about the goings on at the library and the copywriting company.

Wooyoung shoots you a look from across the table, and you flex your brow as if to say, everything okay?

He merely looks askance. He knows something that you apparently don’t. Or do you?

As the hours pass by and shifts come to an end, you and your colleagues part ways with more hugs and a promise that you’ll do a proper catch-up soon.

By 7:30pm, it’s only you and Wooyoung.

A strange sense of déjà vu takes over.

Wooyoung busies himself with the computer at reception. The click-clack of the keyboard triggers something in the back of your mind.

It’s the first time you’ve been able to take a good look at the library since you arrived. The shelves are in completely different places. The desks with the computers aren’t even in the same area anymore.

It’s almost completely unrecognisable from six months ago, where before it had only changed a bit.

Wooyoung notices your aimlessly wandering eyes and stops. “You okay?”

Your head snaps to him. You nod, but it’s not confident. “Yeah. You?”

He breathes a laugh and clicks the mouse. “Yeah. I’m just asking because..” He shuffles some papers. “You seem.. distant.”

His remark makes you a little conscious of how your feet are placed. Not that he intended that, but it makes you fold your arms across your chest a little defensively. “Do I? I promise I’m not, ha..”

Wooyoung nods. “Good to know.”

You chew the insides of your bottom lip. Why does everything feel so off all of a sudden?

You saunter over to the reception desk and stand beside him. “So, uh.. Things been pretty normal here, yeah?”

He side-eyes you. “Yeah.. Pretty normal, by all accounts. Why do you ask?”

He goes back to clicking on the keyboard. The sound is as aggravating as it is weirdly comforting.

“Just- I don’t know, do I need a reason to ask?”

Wooyoung halts. “No. No, just.. wondered.”

This conversation is stifling you. Your shoulders freeze and you look straight ahead, like a statue waiting to be carved from the marble.

All you know for sure, is that something isn’t right.

The library is so unrecognisable that it takes you a long time to figure out the familiar. You drum your fingers on the desk repeatedly until a sideways glance from Wooyoung gets you to stop. Why are the two of you so awkward now? What is he not telling you?

The frustration comes to head and you turn to Wooyoung with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, out with it. What are you not telling me?”

Wooyoung flicks a brow, somewhere between bewildered and mischievous. He jokingly says, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten..”

You stare at him, eager to be enlightened and on the brink of snapping. He stares back at you sceptically.

“Wait.. You’re telling me you don’t remember?”

You blink at him. No, clearly not.

He drops his shoulders and looks at you blankly for a second. “You don’t remember Mingi?”

Mingi.. Mingi.. Mingi!

Your eyes widen with shock. What the fuck?

“Mingi.. Holy shit-”

“You actually forgot?” Wooyoung scoffs, incredulous to this news.

You run your hands over your face in regret; you knew something was bothering you. “Jesus- okay, I had a sneaking suspicion there was something familiar about this specific day..”

“Well, you’d be right, wouldn’t ya?” Wooyoung nudges your side and shakes his head. “Lots of stuff’s happened in the past year, it’s honestly no wonder it slipped to the back of your mind.”

You partly cover your mouth with your hand and bite your forefinger. Wooyoung pays no attention as he shuffles more papers on the desk. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, threatening to break free, and you gulp them down like no one’s business.

“But- God, how do you forget something like that?” Your chest grows heavy with unease. Your heart rams into your throat. Sweat begins to form along your hairline. Shallow gasps leave your lips and it’s then that Wooyoung takes notice.

He drops the papers and places a hand on your back. “Hey, calm down, don’t worry..” he says soothingly, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “I’m sure Mingi would understand.” It’s not lost on him how crazy he sounds reassuring his friend about the potential hurt felt by a ghost, but he swallows his pride and focuses on you.

Eventually, you find enough resolve to take a deep breath and straighten your back. “It’s just.. The way we spoke last year-” The conversation begins to flood every inch of your brain. You had promised him more time. I promise that next year, I will make as much time as possible for you.

Reality is the wave that crashes the fabric of illusion.

But, Mingi isn’t an illusion. He was- is- a real tangible person, right in front of you. The ghost of a man who was once living and breathing just like you are now. You had never really believed in ghosts, but that was personally dashed for you the moment he revealed himself. You talked, you laughed, you had a conversation about vacuum cleaners for God’s sake!

The memory comes back to you, and you find yourself chuckling through the tears now spilling over your cheeks. “Mingi,” you say, “Mingi, my God, I am so sorry..”

I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.

What if he feels betrayed?

The thought alone is a knife to the throat.

Wooyoung gently grabs you by the shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “Hey. Deep breath. Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure it isn’t true.”

“I quoted his favourite poem from memory..” you mutter to yourself.

“Hm?”

“His favourite poem by Edgar Allan Poe. The Raven. I quoted the first verse from memory..”

“Huh.” Wooyoung checks the clock. Nearly 8pm.

Slowly, he backs away from you, not taking his eyes off you much as he heads to the poetry section. You barely notice him leave, your arms still outstretched as though he was still there. “Say.. When was-” He tries navigating around the shelves as best as he can while he speaks. “When was the last time you uh-” He almost crashes into a shelf. “Umph- The last time you uhh- read that poem?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “It was some point last year before I saw him again. I haven’t read it again since.”

Wooyoung nods as he reaches the poetry section. He quickly turns his back and scans the shelves - Poe, Poe, Poe.. - then finds the book he’s searching for with a triumphant ah! Taking it out, he flips to the right page and says, “Okay. Try and recite it again for me.”

“What?” You finally register the space in front of you, and your eyes begin to dart all over the place. “Wooyoung?”

“Over here!” He waves his hand in the air, and you spot him. “Recite the first part of The Raven for me!”

You bite your bottom lip, then shut your eyes tight, desperately trying to remember the poem. “Um- Hold on..”

Wooyoung mumbles to himself, “Come on, N, you got this..”

With your eyes still closed, you recite the first verse. Slowly but surely, like slotting the pieces of a puzzle back together after they’ve come undone.

Once you reach the end of the first verse, Wooyoung smiles. “That’s it, keep going.”

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December.. And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.. Eagerly I wished-” Your mind goes blank. Then, “..the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow; From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore.”

The clock strikes eight, and a blinding light shines through the ground floor of the library.

Once the light fades, both you and Wooyoung open your eyes.

Mingi stands a few feet in front of you.

Before you can even think, you take off and run over to him, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace that even you yourself are surprised by. Mingi grunts, then registers the gesture and smiles, putting his arms around you. Wooyoung watches, mouth agape in shock.

“Mingi..” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I left you behind.”

Mingi nestles his chin into your shoulder. “Never left. Merely had other priorities.”

You pull back and look at him, eyes full of tears that he hesitates to wipe away. He smiles directly at you, full of heart and warmth.

You wonder what you did to receive such an outpour.

Upon looking at him, you notice his translucency, then remember that reciting the poem the first time is what made him so to begin with. You choke on a sob and cover your mouth with both hands.

“Two more puzzles, huh?” you say, lips quivering through the gap in your hands.

He nods his head, tilting it to the side before stuffing his hands in his pockets. You cannot help but think of how likeable he is.

Wooyoung gradually steps out of hiding, the book still in his hands. You turn to him and sigh. “God, I’m sorry, Wooyoung.”

Mingi turns his head. When the two men come face to face, they are equally stunned.

“Um, Mingi, this is my friend and former co-worker, Wooyoung.”

The two men timidly wave at one another, and Wooyoung grips the book in his hands as he realises that he basically just helped summon a ghost.

Wooyoung shrugs a shoulder, “Too late for formalities, I presume?”

Mingi laughs outwardly. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.” Wooyoung smiles.

You run a hand over your face before it goes slack at your side. “Lord, how did this happen?”

Mingi turns back to you. “I’ll say divine intervention, if either of you believe in that.” Neither you nor Wooyoung say anything, allowing the silence to speak for itself.

Wooyoung suddenly remembers that the front door isn’t locked and tends to that while you and Mingi are left to exchange glances. Every time he looks at you, you turn away, and when he eventually hides his eyes you find yourself gazing back at him.

Never able to hold eye contact for too long, you make a point of crossing over to the other side of the room to start closing the blinds. Wooyoung notices and holds up a hand. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” he asks in jest. “Leave that to me, you have unfinished business,” he mutters into your ear.

“Unfinished business?” you whisper in disbelief, though the embarrassment is creeping up the back of your neck.

“Mhm, now shoo.” Wooyoung virtually pushes you away, dismissing you forthwith to return to the matter at hand.

The matter in question being Mingi’s ever fixated gaze on your person and his entire reason for coming back.

Arms folded, you saunter over to him, caught under his watchful eye like an ant beneath a microscope. “I’m kind of amazed you came back.”

Mingi puts his hands in his pockets for want of anything to keep them occupied. “Should it be so surprising?”

You shrug. “I mean.. I left. I almost completely forgot you existed, just- How do you not hate me at this point?”

The air between you is rich with desire to delay the inevitable. Mingi closes the distance between you and sighs. “Like I said, never left. Merely had other priorities.”

You had heard him the first time, and yet it takes a repeat for you to fully register his words. Your pupils dilate and your face grows stiff. Somehow, you understand exactly what he means despite the cryptic nature. “And you don’t judge me for that?”

“Real life is a mean thing to contend with at the best of times. I hold no ill will towards you for focusing on the reality in your hands above the spectre you had two conversations with.”

The frank statement is a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Had you not gathered what remained of your resolve, you might have crumbled at the weight.

“I still feel I should apologise. I promised I would make time for you and-”

“You’re staying true to your promise, are you not?” He lifts a brow inquisitively.

You pause. You’re standing in the library, Mingi is right in front of you, Wooyoung has since finished his task and is busy tidying the ground floor.. You suppose you are holding true to your promise, despite the uncanny circumstances that led back to this full circle moment.

Mingi understands your dilemma and nods. “It’s not exactly how you envisioned it going, I get that. But, you’re here, I’m here, and we even have a third party,” he says, indicating Wooyoung, who by now is standing next to the history shelf. Wooyoung gives a half-smile and a small wave, then goes back to minding his own business, encouraging you to pretend he’s not even there.

It makes you chuckle, all of this. It’s certainly not what you had planned, and you know you only have a limited amount of time left, but you would rather have this than nothing at all.

“So,” you begin, bringing both yours and Mingi’s attention back to the present moment, “we’ve already covered the significance of the day.” You eye the place. “But I feel like there’s something with this location..”

Mingi’s eyes light up. “You’re there.”

You turn back to him. “This location is important, huh?” Mingi nods, newly excited. “I figured as such, typically souls who have passed away near a certain place will be bound to that general area.”

“It sounds cliché, I know, but it is true. The paranormal have ways of travelling, but it’s not very common. Typically they prefer to stay exactly where they are.”

“Are there any limitations?” you wonder aloud.

“None that I can parse, though I’ve heard that it can be very taxing to travel far and wide.”

“Sounds like me with jet-lag,” remarks Wooyoung. The two of you look at him, and he zips his lip and goes back to cleaning.

You and Mingi face one another again, you playfully rolling your eyes at his comment.

Then, in the few seconds that follow, your eyes look through Mingi and towards the history shelf, where Wooyoung is rearranging the books.

“Um, Wooyoung?” You pass Mingi as Wooyoung turns his head. “Are there any local history books on that shelf?”

“Uhh, local history, local history..” He mutters it repeatedly until he comes across one book on the subject. “Ah! Got one here.” He takes it out and hands it to you with a grin. You thank him and take it over to a nearby table. Mingi follows you; you pull a chair out for him and he sits down very gently and appreciatively, adjusting himself to the feeling of being seated.

Laying the book down on the table, you start flicking through slowly, allowing Mingi the opportunity to chime in when he sees something he recognises.

Eventually, he calls out, “Stop!”

You halt on a double page spread.

Song and Co. 1952 - 1968

“That’s it..” Mingi slumps against the chair in shock. “That’s my parents’ old business.”

Your eyes scan the page, first looking at the black and white photos before turning to the words. Wooyoung walks over, intrigued by the discovery.

One delightful autumn, a family business opened its doors for the first time. Along the local high street, residents of the nearby town delighted in the trinkets made by the young married couple who owned the business. They became the bestseller of gifts during the holiday season, as well as for multiple occasions throughout the year.

Mingi leans forward, letting his finger hover above the page as he attempts to find any mention of himself.

You sit back in the chair, then turn to look up at Wooyoung, who glances back down at you sympathetically.

After a few seconds, Mingi says, “There.”

Your head snaps back to the page, and you follow his finger to a passage that talks about him. As you read, your eyes brim with tears.

While their eldest son had left to pursue other ambitions, their younger son, Mingi, had plans to inherit the business from his parents. Unfortunately, Mingi passed away in the December of 1968, an untimely death, prompting the couple to close down their family business for good. The couple have never revealed the cause of death, though some speculated it to be a vehicular accident caused by an intoxicated driver, just five minutes from where the business sat.

“Oh my God..” You notice Mingi looking at you in your peripheral vision, equally tearful at the sight of your hurt.

It takes a few seconds for you to have the courage to look at him, but when you do, you have to hold back a sob from breaking through. Wooyoung disappears into the background, a solemn expression on his face as he hangs his head low.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper through the crack in your lips.

Mingi smiles dejectedly, and it breaks your heart even more. “No need to apologise.” He wants to reach out and hold your hand, but refrains. “My parents didn’t want anyone knowing. I was here, well, technically, in the aftermath of the accident. Watching them close the book on this chapter was heartbreaking. Even worse that I couldn’t do anything to console them. My mother believed in it, but my father didn’t. It would have caused a bigger rift, and they had to stay together.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Jesus.. So-” You hold your tongue on asking this question; the dormant feelings of guilt at being so curious rear their ugly head, and you stare at your hands in your lap instead.

Mingi notices, and this time, reaches forward to take your hand. The chill startles you, but not as much as how light his grip is. With a deep, relaxed sigh, he says, “You can ask now.”

You look up at him. Your teeth begin to chatter and your lips start shivering. “W-Wait- You- You mean-”

He nods. “You can ask. I mean it.”

And he does mean it. The tension is heavy, so dense it rips the oxygen from your lungs.

A breath escapes you, shuddering in its attempt to crawl back into your system. You gulp. “Were the speculations true? Is that how you died?” Mingi hardens his gaze. The pieces fit together.

Should I close them completely? Are they distracting?

“The streetlights outside the staffroom. That’s roughly where you died.”

Mingi sheds a tear. Light passes through him with more fervour as he takes a more transparent form. Wooyoung’s jaw drops.

You cry out, “You should have told me to close the blinds..!”

To your surprise, Mingi chuckles, holding onto your hand much tighter than before. “I was okay, you don’t need to worry about that.” You push the sleeve of your free arm over your hand and use the cuff to wipe the tears from your eyes. The words won’t come to you.

Wooyoung steps forward and takes the book away, before closing it and putting it back on the shelf so neither of you have to look at it anymore.

You stare down at Mingi’s hand in yours and tighten your grip, for all the difference it makes.

The strength of your grasp doesn’t fully translate, but Mingi sees it in the way your hand muscles pull taut; he closes his eyes, and for a brief moment it’s like he’s alive again, breathing in the air and letting it fill his lungs.

As long as he is with you, holding your hand and experiencing life through your eyes, he can keep up his side of the promise.

I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.

“Tell me,” Mingi says all of a sudden, snapping you out of your thoughts, “how have things been at your new job?”

You talk for what feels like hours. His form is hazy against the harsh daylight bulbs that fill the ceiling of the library. Ultimately, you’re surprised to actually see not just a ghost, but a transparent one, as so many pieces of art have depicted them. His voice is much farther away and has a certain reverb to it, now that he is effectively one step away from entering what you assume to be the light, but you push that thought to the back of your mind for now.

Mingi laughs at every funny story you tell and delights in hearing about your writing endeavours. You tell him about how you’ve taken up poetry writing in the last few months, as well as learning to get better at baking. Wooyoung tuts playfully, no doubt envious of the treats your new co-workers get to enjoy. You promise him you’ll bring some for everyone at the library soon.

“I wish I could partake in this luxury,” Mingi laments. 

His words strike a chord and you suddenly feel quite melancholy. “Oh, I suspected ghosts couldn’t eat.”

“And you’d be correct, but strangely I haven’t lost my sense of taste.” Both you and Wooyoung lift a brow in shock. “I know! It’s an odd feeling because I still have all of my senses and yet they’re not as strong due to my spectral state.”

“Are they much weaker when you’re invisible?” asks Wooyoung. Mingi nods. “Wow.. Sorry, that’s just so fascinating.”

“I agree. I’ve had to learn a lot since entering this state of being.

You smile at the two of them before standing up to stretch your legs. A comfortable silence befalls the library as you find yourself gravitating towards the poetry section once again.

The day, the location, the poem..

The poem.

Everything comes back to that poem.

You find the same book that Wooyoung had read from earlier and pull it out. Flicking through, you find The Raven.

Immediately, Mingi launches himself off the chair and pushes through an invisible force field to get to you.

“N-” he blurts hesitantly.

“Oh-” You turn, and instantly shut the book seeing the panic on his face. “No! I was just looking, it’s okay.” He places a hand on his chest, mimicking the gesture many alive would do when alarmed. You inch closer to him, putting the book down so as to not cause further worry. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright, I just- Whew-” he says coolly, though there’s a hidden layer of distress in his tone. “Not trying to let me go already, are you?” He smiles through the unrest in his expression. His eyes are physically hollow, and yet the fear is evident within them.

Let me go.

Of course the poem is the answer, but how?

You need to know, you need to find out and yet Mingi’s very presence is the reason why you’d never want to.

The lights shimmer through his vacant body and your breath hitches.

And yet.

You shake your head sincerely and say, “No. Of course not.” Not that I’d ever want to.

Mingi takes a deep breath and it somehow courses through you.

With a heavy heart, you tell him, “But I will have to.. won’t I?”

He gazes up at you, and his vacant eyes still manage to glisten with tears. He regretfully nods and mutters, “It is true. It’s inevitable. I think I’m trying to ignore it myself, as much as I know that I can’t.”

You let a tear shed before speaking up to grab Wooyoung’s attention. “Wooyoung? What time is it?”

Wooyoung checks the clock. “It’s coming up to half past 9.”

Time is gradually running out. If your suspicions are correct, Mingi has until midnight to cross over into the light.

You’re reluctant to ask what would happen if you don’t figure The Raven puzzle out before that time, but you need to quash that curiosity all the same. “So, say I didn’t figure it out, say time ran out, or ran away from us..” Mingi fixes you an impenetrable stare. “What would happen?”

Turning his back, Mingi walks over to his chair and sits down again. “I’d be stuck in a liminal space forever so to speak. I wouldn’t be able to visit you ever again, nor would I be able to go to the light. A purgatory of sorts, but for spectres.”

Your muscles cramp in the most uncomfortable way; every muscle goes numb, and your limbs turn to jelly.

Wooyoung goes to speak, but manages to utter one syllable before clamping his lips shut and refusing to say more.

You eye the book in your peripheral vision. You don’t want Mingi to leave, and yet it would be selfish for you to send him to such a fate.

You sense that you’re not alone in this sentiment, as Mingi shifts around in his chair and looks up at you. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not particularly looking forward to the goodbye myself.”

Shutting your eyes, you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale. Why, God why, was I put in this position?

A thought then emerges in the back of your mind, and it nearly makes you collapse.

No, no surely not..

It had been swimming around in the rivers of your mind since he returned, since you relayed the first two verses from memory, since the recitation was the thing that summoned Mingi..

You dare not even have the thought, lest it be the thing that pulls Mingi away immediately, but it comes and goes, ephemeral as all thoughts are, and Mingi still remains.

Am I the raven?

It makes no sense at first blush. You pace around the shelves for want of anything to do than look at Mingi or see the perpetual look of melancholy on Wooyoung’s face as he observes everything going on around him.

It gives you enough of a distraction to hide among the shelves and break down in tears.

You couldn’t be the raven, surely.

The entire poem flashed in your mind, as though preserved on a canvas for your eyes only, and you silently read through the entire thing, top to bottom, back to front, trying to decipher how you could be the raven when Mingi was the one visiting you.

Is Mingi the raven?

How did that make sense? In the poem, the raven visits the narrator, and initially confused by its presence, the narrator asks him its name, but the raven only gives one response: nevermore.

But the narrator was trying to forget. The narrator was trying to move on from something. What exactly were you trying to move on from that would make that logic work?

The timing makes sense: the poem is set in December, which is the only month that Mingi has ever visited you.

The words have burrowed their way into your brain so much so you can’t forget a single one now. If Mingi asked you to read the whole poem you could, but something tells you that’s another part of the puzzle.

The minute you turned to the poem, Mingi freaked out. Could reading the poem in its entirety be the key?

There’s something hidden that you’ve missed, something you’d only be able to figure out by seeing the words on the page.

Emerging from the shelves, you see a concerned Mingi standing before you. “I heard your cries, are you okay?”

You wipe the remainder of your tears and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, totally fine,” you reply, unconvincingly. Mingi’s chest rises and falls. You go to gently lift the book off the shelf, and Mingi almost reaches his hand out in protest. “Don’t panic..! I just need to see the words on the page. I need to read them again. Something’s bothering me, and I need to figure it out. Can I do this?” Your fingertips brush the spine of the book. Mingi swallows, then eventually nods. Watching you pick up the book is like a tiny electric shock to the heart, but he dampens it instantly, trusting you to keep to your word and not throw him out the door so soon.

You take the book and open it to the correct page. The spine sits in the palm of your hand as you trace along each and every line with your finger.

But the Raven, sitting only on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther than he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

You read this one stanza over and over again, hoping that something clicks in your mind.

“Curious volume of forgotten lore..” you mutter beneath your breath. Mingi stills, praying deep down that you haven’t figured it out, that this isn’t goodbye..

You glance up at him. He pleads through his eyes and it takes every bit of courage not to spill the answer from your lips.

At that moment, you look through and see Wooyoung sitting at the table. Wooyoung, who is looking directly at you at this precise moment.

The need to forget and the desire to remember.

Wooyoung had helped you summon him.

Shelley, Stoker, the Brontës.

Mingi is a writer.

I hope we can spend that time together in earnest.

Your legs almost give way. You are Lenore.

The book falls out of your hands and you stumble back towards the shelves. “No..” you mumble. “No!” you shout this time.

Mingi steps forward and reaches out to you, “N..”

Wooyoung then stands up. “N?” “This can’t be.” You stare at Mingi. Your eyes are made of pure glass.

It’s then that Mingi realises.

“You’ve figured it out.”

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide. “You have?”

Hands trembling, fingers shaking, you lift your arm and point towards the two of them. “This can’t be happening..”

Wooyoung closes the distance, “N..”

“No, you can’t do this to me!”

Speechless, Wooyoung backtracks, defensively putting his hands in the air. “What the fuck is going on?”

You gasp for air as Mingi comes to place both hands on your shoulders. “M-Mingi.. I’m sorry..”

“No, N, it’s okay,” he says with a smile through a face stained with tears. “I’m actually so proud of you..”

“Wooyoung..” you whisper.

“I’m here, I’m he- fucking hell!”

Behind you, a blazing white light shines, causing Wooyoung to cover his eyes and turn around. You reflexively close your eyes and fall into Mingi’s arms, and he wraps himself around you in a tight embrace.

“I’ll never forget, Lenore..”

“Lenore?” shrieks Wooyoung. “If you’re Lenore, then who’s-” He stops short and uncovers his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

As you hug Mingi, your eyes travel to Wooyoung’s inert form. “You’re the Raven.”Wooyoung stares down at his hands. He turns around, the light no longer causing an issue for him, not that he would care anyway. “N.. N, I didn’t realise..”

“It’s okay..” You pull away from Mingi to hug Wooyoung. He returns the hug, chin placed on your shoulder as his eyes brim with tears. “It’s okay.. I’ve only just figured it out. Neither of us knew.” Those words are for him and him alone, and you feel his body go slack in your arms as he hugs you.

Mingi watches you both. He smiles, content, and says, “It’s been so nice to meet you both.”

Wooyoung finally detaches himself from you, standing back to give you and Mingi enough space to say goodbye properly.

The light emanates a warmth you’ve never felt before; it’s not the heat of summer, nor the pleasant cosiness of wrapping yourself up in blankets on a cold day. It’s strange and visceral, as though it could burn you with zero effect.

There is so little time to unpack how you are the Lenore to the scholar that is Mingi. You surmise it showed in the ways he would hold your hand to comfort you, or his smile when you conveyed excitement at his return, or the comfort he brought when you felt guilty at leaving him behind, to which he said that you never did.

There isn’t a single word that could describe the outcome of your three meetings, or what it could have potentially meant had you had more time. It’s not something you’re at wits to think about right now, and it’s not something you’d really want explained anyway.

There’s solace in the idea that whatever it was, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

Wooyoung eyes Mingi from afar. Mingi looks past you and at him. “Please, feel no shame that this is how things came to be. You weren’t aware of your place, and I feel no ill that you are the Raven in my story.”

Wooyoung’s eyes soften. “Are you sure?”

“For one, I can tell you are not the evil Poe had described. In fact, merely the opposite. You took a far gentler approach, and for that I am grateful.”

Wooyoung nods. “The need to forget and the desire to remember,” he says, pensively.

Your eyes go wide. Mingi repeats his gesture. “You helped me with that, and so I thank you wholeheartedly. Not of Plutonian shore, nor a fiend,” he chuckles lightly. Wooyoung joins him in this, before lifting his chin and pushing his chest outward - like a bird.

Mingi smiles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you turn to embrace Mingi once more.

Into his ear, you whisper, “And you lore shall not be forgotten..”

Mingi holds you close. He turns to Wooyoung. “Will my lore be forgotten?”

Wooyoung relaxes his shoulders. “Nevermore.”

×-×

The plaque had been a joint venture, and a collaborative effort.

Once you and Wooyoung had shown the colleagues the story of Song & Co., they all agreed that there should be a plaque commemorating the family business, placed just outside the library, next to the entrance.

Wooyoung had since left the library, deciding to move on to the next chapter in his life.

Every so often, the two of you meet up, just to see the plaque.

On one such occasion, Wooyoung is already standing outside the library when you arrive in your car.

Once you’re by his side, you both take a deep breath.

It’s been a whole nother year.

“Crazy how time flies, huh?” says Wooyoung, his voice quiet and contemplative.

“Yeah.. I think about it all the time.”

Wooyoung nods. “Not a day goes by that I don't think about it.” A comfortable silence falls between you. Eventually, you turn your head to look at him.

He notices, and softly turns his head to look back at you.

You share a smile with him, then ask a question that has been on your mind since the event. “Did you remember that word from the poem, or was it just instinct?”

The answer is easy. “Both.”

Your smile becomes a smirk. “I thought so.”

You both glance back at the plaque. Encased in a gold frame and printed on pale blue paper, the sign stands out, ensuring that the history of the location is preserved forever.

For the first time ever, it seems, you seriously focus on the words themselves.

Here, in the present location of this library, stood a family business - Song & Co. -  that opened in 1952 and closed its doors in 1968, following the unfortunate death of the heir, the couple’s youngest son, Song Mingi. Inside the library, we have placed a local history book on display, where on pages 46 and 47, you can read up on the history of this business, as well as the family that owned it for 14 years.

Beneath the text is a picture of the business, as well as the family, dated 1966.

You smile. Wooyoung wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

Nevermore.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

[dragonwysper]

Just finished Mouthwashing, after hearing all sorts of snippets of fandom drama about it. I'd stayed away from all that because I didn't have the context, but now I do! So I'm blasting you all with my thoughts.

Long post. Be prepared. Spoilers for Mouthwashing and CW for in-depth discussion of SA below.

So the biggest aspect of the drama side of the fandom that I've been seeing is how the game handled Anya's rape. Some people think it was devastating and properly showed the awfulness of Jimmy, and feel Anya's trauma was portrayed accurately and handled well. Others think Anya was somewhat one-dimensional; she was given a stereotypically female-specific trauma to match the different pain/traumas of the other crew members, and feel the subject wasn't given enough weight and respect.

After having played the game (while also going into it with the knowledge and expectation that it would be about SA), I can see both sides. Though I think my thoughts on everything come from some core details.

Firstly, the core theme of the game is not SA. It's karma. Jimmy is a terrible person who doesn't care about the pain he inflicts on others, as long as he gains something from it. The game follows him as he destroys the people around him, and treats them like fodder to fuel his own goals. We see all of this catch up to him in the end, and he's sortof divinely punished, or overcome with guilt, or whatever it is, because of it. Each person's harm is unique and everybody has their own micro-themes, but the core theme of the game is overwhelmingly karma.

Essentially, this is not a game about SA. This is a game about a terrible person getting what's coming to him.

Secondly, rape as shock content is a common gripe regarding mostly horror movies. It's a quick and easy way to create motivation, so much so that it's turned into its own subgenre of 'rape and revenge' plots. Think I Spit On Your Grave style movies. The other side of the same coin is objectifying the victim, which creates an exploitative feel. The act of the rape itself, and furthermore the shock of it, is more important than the victim and their feelings and trauma. Rape is detached from the lasting harm it causes, and is more something to justify getting up in arms about something/someone rather than a trauma.

And while we do see some of Anya's trauma from SA, Mouthwashing by and large is not meant to be a commentary on SA specifically. Again, it's about how terrible of a person Jimmy is, which makes the SA, at least in part, a tool to make the player hate him.

Ultimately, if Mouthwashing was changed to where Anya faced a different form of harm from Jimmy, instead of SA, it would still be just about the same game. You could still make a convincing game with karma and bad people getting their comeuppance as the core theme. And that I think is the most important realization to have about the subject.

Anya's SA was the first trauma, and the details of the aftermath are what kickstarted the plot, but it was, intentionally or not, a tool to make you hate Jimmy. Because the game isn't about Anya and her trauma. It's about Jimmy and his karma.

I think Mouthwashing is fascinating, and that theme of karma is not something I see done well very often. I think the style of the plot and all the little details that expound upon the micro-themes of the game are extremely well done. And I think it did handle its themes of SA better than a lot of content that discusses it. But it's not perfect, and it falls short of really digging into the true weight of it. It's not a game that makes any real progress on the portrayal of sexual trauma in media. It's cleaner and less graphic than 'rape and revenge' stories, but it ultimately still relies on exploiting the shock of rape to serve a 'bigger' plot.

It's late, I'm tired, and I'm struggling to properly word what I'm feeling, but hopefully my interpretation of nuance comes through.

[howlingmod]

Hello mod, may I request something cutesy for Skateboard x reader?

summary - skateboard x reader, reader is from blackrock and is described as being a little bit messed up from it (not detailed)

misc - hi i seen this request and got so excited i love skateboard ... 1million tripmine attack go

-Skateboard hadn't really been looking to make any new friends when he'd stumbled onto you. It'd been late at night and he was dead tired, having spent the entire day in the blistering heat of day. He was really just looking to go home when he'd seen you.

-It wasn't uncommon to see people lost in Playground, especially people from other regions. It was less common to see someone frantically pacing back and forth with a stuffed full suitcase and what was very obviously a Blackrock-style uniform talking about getting hunted for sport.

-Initially, the uniform had put him on edge. He phights Subspace and Hyperlaser all the time and he's seen plenty of people from there pass through Playground, and it wasn't often they had good intentions. There was something different about you, though, your panic didn't seem manufactured to draw someone in, it felt unnervingly genuine. Blackrock isn't exactly known for letting its residents easily slip out whenever they want. if you really were some kind of runaway, you definitely had reason to be freaking out.

-Against his better judgement, he approached you.

"Hey man, are you ok?" Skate asked cautiously, taking a few steps closer to you. He kept his distance, he wasn't sure what kind of gear you might have and he wasn't looking to phight right now. Your head had whipped towards him the moment he'd stepped into the alley, wide eyes darting over his figure. He certainly didn't look like the type to be affiliated with the faction. Besides, to be entirely honest, an alley was a pretty terrible place to hide. For any Blackrock authority with an itchy trigger finger (most of them, you noted bitterly), it was the perfect place to solve a runaway. "Hello...?" You blinked, remembering he'd asked a question. "O-Oh, um... Yeah I'm- I'm fine," you stammered, hastily smoothing yourself out and ripping your eyes away. Any attempt at looking casual was soaked in anxiety. "Right, Right," he didn't believe you at all, "You mind telling me what's up then?" You kicked at the ground a few times, scuffing up already worn workboots out in an attempt to shake your nerves. You couldn't meet his eyes for more than a glance. "I'd rather not." Skate paused for a few moments. Maybe it's exhaustion talking, but you really didn't seem like much of a threat. If you were trying to bait him into getting close, it seemed counterintuitive to be acting so guarded. This didn't feel like an elaborate scheme, it just felt like a genuine moment of crisis. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. "Listen I just- Do you need something? I really don't know why you're talking to me." You were struggling to keep your voice firm, but you couldn't afford to let your voice wobble over the edge and into tears. "Hey, just calm down. I wanna help you, ok?" This could have been a stupid move, but he took another few steps closer, one arm holding his board and the other raised in a show of pacifism, "I'm sorry if I was freakin' you out with all the questions. Do you have anywhere to go?" You bit the inside of your cheek, mentally debating if you really wanted to put this onto a stranger. On one hand, it was just humiliating for you. On the other, it was a risk, he might be playing nice now but he could sell you out in a heartbeat. "No." "Alright, well how about you come with me?" He was quick to clarify when you glanced at him, "You can stay with me until you find a place! Or, I could try and find some hotel nearby, I guess ..." He trailed off, talking more to himself than you. Part of you was screaming to run the other way, as far as you knew this guy had you totally figured out and was ready to use the situation to get whatever it was he wanted. He could blackmail you, rat you out, ruin every chance you have at a new life. You can't just pick up and keep running if he tries anything, this guy was clearly from here, far more familiar with the bustling city than you were. Despite all this- "Please."

-It was a pretty long adjustment period. Skate was a little too casual and open for your paranoid mind to comprehend and you were a little too guarded and mysterious for Skate to trust you fully. You were so unfamiliar with Playground's culture, the lively and crowded atmosphere was a stark contrast to the utilitarian lifestyle you were accustomed to. There was little you could do other than try and bully forward.

-It was the little things that made Skate warm up to you. You always insisted it was out of politeness whenever he'd confront you about how nice the place looked or how there was leftovers for him when he got home. You would get wrapped up in something and you would start talking to yourself, walking through all the different steps and alternatives in a long ramble under your breath. Despite the exterior you were putting up, there was clearly some life to you yet.

-Sometimes he would tease you about it, but he was surprisingly strategic. He'd annoy you just enough to get you to glare at him and then back off for a while, returning the favor by bringing home snacks and takeout for the two of you in an effort to draw out more of that humanity. Besides, you could really use the food. The day he noticed most everything you made for yourself was just whatever used the least amount of resources was the same day he shoved most of his portion over to you without a word.

-Neither of you really noticed how you opened up to one another. Slowly you two stopped sitting on opposite sides of the room until you spent nights laying on one another watching bad tv. Admittedly, he might've gotten the first hint at his crush for you the first time you fell asleep on him. Sure, it was just plain cute, but it meant something more knowing it was you, the same person who used to run off to go eat by yourself every night and stuck to the corners of a room.

-He noticed your quirks become more apparent, little references and phrases he'd never heard before suddenly littered your every word. You spoke more openly, though you still had a tendency of not talking unless he said something that absolutely called for it. He didn't mind, he was usually the more chatty one in his friendships anyway. He just liked getting an excuse to tell you about all the phights he's been in and all the (more lighthearted) things his gang was up to. At some points, the lines between fabrication and reality in his stories blurred for whatever reason. He didn't mind that either, so long as you were laughing or drawn in by what he was saying.

-You weren't into the idea of phighting yourself, it was just a little too much for you. Besides, even the idea of seeing Hyperlaser or Subspace again on the battlefield of all places made your stomach churn. Instead, he'd just gotten you into play wrestling with him. You were stronger than he'd been expecting, though he probably should've known you would be considering your background. He didn't have to take it easy on you, only really holding back for the sake of not breaking anything.

-It was cliche, but there was some time where you'd won and managed to shove him down and keep him there and all the admiration he' been building up for you overflowed and left him looking up at you with some dumb grin. You were smiling back, something you'd only recently really started doing again. He liked to think it was because you were comfortable here with him, you would agree.

"Hi." "Hey." He laughed again, a nervous habit you often poked fun at, "You're really pretty, you know that?" You'd burnt up at that, laughing a little yourself as you stared down at him, "Where's this coming from?" "I dunno, just been thinking it." "You're weird." "Do you like me weird?" You snorted, halfheartedly swatting him one more time before pushing yourself back up. "Of course." "That's good, I like you weird too," the moment he'd finished his sentence, you were already pouncing on him again.