#i dont expect that ill draw them this way forever but im with where it is wrt my skill level rn

[pumaskulls]

Mars ref done WOOO!! honestly didn't think i was gonna get hers done anytime soon, so im stoked to be happy with this at last

[sweepseven]

Hi! you responded to my circus post like. forever ago and i realized i had a question that a circus person might know. (sorry in advance that this is long) (also that things are a bit vague bc im trying to explain everything with as little doxxing as possible) (if this is overwhelming or whatever you are not required to read it. just say like "sorry i cant deal with this" and ill be fine)

a little bit of backstory (because idk how else to explain) is that both writing and circus are very prominent parts of my life and for the past like. six months (maybe even year) the idea of a play (because i have written some 10 minute plays) that incorporates circus as a part of the formatting has been rotating in my mind.

I saw a production recently (ish) with my school that was a play, but really it was a musical that incorporated an aerial window and aerial ladders as both set-pieces and aparatuses. they used them as windows and ladders, but at a certain point in the play, when one character was describing something that had happened, there were aerialists performing on the aparatuses. i talked to my teacher afterwards and she also thought i should write a play that incorporates circus. and i dont mean as a plot point (like they go to the circus) but as a way of telling the story.

i also saw an opera recently in which the songs were the same, and the plot was essentially the same as when it was written (several centuries ago), but the setting and costumes were all more modern. someone would sing an aria and then draw three squiggly lines on the wall that, at the third line, became clear it was the body of a naked woman. another where i swear it was a legit clown skit (he climbed up the stairs. flumped down and gave up, then slid down fully flat on his back, climbed up again, slid off sideways, then crawled up, all while operatically singing (used clown rule of three etc)also it was very exciting when he spun a hat on a cane like plate spinning cuz id just learned how to do that a week before). it made me think of just the contrast between a formal format (like a play or opera) and modern, comedic, and otherwise circus-y flares.

ANYWAYS. the main question arose with a convo i had with my dad the other day about this same thing (we've taken to asking each other if we've been thinking abt anything interesting lately) and he knew someone who was in the circus. he asked if there was a structure of the circus (like the three act structure of stories) and the guy said yes absolutely. it was something like starting with the least amount of people each act and then ending with the most. however, i think there was more to it and i wanted to find out to see if i could work with that. unfortunately my dad hasnt spoken to this guy in years and doesn't want to ask again.

so the question: whats the structure of a circus performance?

Hi! Sounds like you get some really cool shows in your area!

Some shows vaguely follow the structure your dad's friend outlined, but I think he's speaking in the loosest possible terms. Yes, the finale act of a show is usually the biggest and grandest, both in terms of spectacle and the number of people involved. But many also open with an extra energetic first act to welcome the audience to the show and set the expectation for what's to follow (think Kooza charivari, Kurios Chaos Synchro, Echo cube suspension). You also see lots of acts opening with solos or duets (Mystere aerial straps, Quidam German or cyr wheel, Amaluna unicycles, etc.). It's definitely not a hard and fast rule, but it can be an element in deciding how a show is paced.

I'd say the most successful base structure is one that balances a natural narrative flow, human attention span, and rigging needs. I use "narrative" here very loosely, because a story isn't a guarantee in a circus, but like a story you don't want to go from nothing nothing nothing to ACTION ACTION ACTION and then suddenly it's all over. It's unnatural, unpredictable, and disengages the audience, and circus is trying to do the opposite. Similarly you don't want people to have to crane their necks for four aerial acts in a row - eventually they're all gonna look the same and people will feel bored. Acts that demand more complex rigging need to go at a point in the show where they can be gracefully set up and taken down without disrupting other things taking place. All these factors may change if your show has an intermission - if it does, you want a kind of "mini" flow that keeps people excited about coming back for the second half.

Alegria IANL is a good example. It starts with a bold opening number with lots of participants, which makes sense because it's a show about revolution. Then we slow it down to a solo act followed by a duet. Fire knife dance is a solo too, but it really ramps the energy back up. The first half closes with Snowstorm, which is a huge spectacle and makes us excited about what they're gonna do with all these tiny paper snowflakes in the second half.

Then you come back from intermission and discover the answer is: see the most gorgeous romantic aerial straps act of your life (a duet). More peaks and valleys follow in alternating smaller and larger acts, all of them on the ground, and all of them with distinctly varying paces. Then close with flying trapeze, which pulls the focus upward, has the most complex rigging in the show, and uses a net they can get away with leaving up for the finale. Tada! A tight, engaging, well-balanced show.

[softness-and-shattering]

I kind of get how it can be a trauma response, to lash out at anything that feels safe or comfortable because its unusual which makes it scary.

You're allowed to be safe though. You dont have to antagonise everyone who might be your ally to drive us away before we can hurt you. Most of us, many of us - i dont have statistics on this - dont want to hurt you and do our best to avoid it.

Womanhood is not defined by suffering. Transness is not defined by suffering. Its an aspect, sure, just as suffering is an aspect of being human. But its not the point. Its not necessary, its not the foundation stone. You dont have to cling to it. Let it go.

Idk if anyone who needs to hear this has got this far but just in case. Acting like a walking trauma reaction is hurting everyone. Its possible to heal. Dont you want to heal? Arent you exhausted? Take a tiny little chance that it might be safer than you thought and put your shit down. Or open some space and think about what it is you like about being trans, about being a woman, of holding any identity that you find painful. What draws you to it? What do you want it to look like?

Ill go first. I love my voice. When it started properly breaking my first feeling was relief. I get to sound warm and rumbly and comforting now. Is that what I like about being trans or about being a guy? Idk, both maybe. I like that I get to define things for myself outside of imposed expectations. Ok your turn. Name one thing. Start building a sense of self around joy and contentment or at the very least, not pain. Start building yourself into someone who wants to live and can enjoy living. Its always possible.

And yeah maybe Im shouting compassion into the void but I hope someone somewhere is listening, that I might influence them a tiny bit make their life a little better. If someone is plain nasty to me I wont engage.

And yes people who are so caught up in their fear and pain and making up lies where theyre the victim - on the one hand, its a defence mechanism, I get it. On the other hand, its hurtful, and its extremely rude and also ludicrous. Like who is this crowd of cis women running to transmasc's defence everywhere? Cis women are weird and entitled with us. They know they have cis privilege over us. They act like the fact we started as the same sex gives them rights to be invasive "because we're all just girls". Cis women are less privileged than cis men but theyre second on that food chain, theyre cis. And sometimes they enjoy holding power over someone else for a change.

Which is to say, if youre lashing out at everyone because youre scared, you need to get yourself under control. Youre hurting people who dont deserve it. You need help, in the most genuine of meanings. You need to be able to function healthily as part of society, and yes theres a lot of transphobes out there, but most people dont carr one way or the other. Your overwhelming fear is not of equal size to the danger, which does exist, but is not all-encompassing of everything forever.

For everyones sake including your own: life can be better. Please work towards it being better. Get your shit together and let yourself be helped.

you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

[creampievampire]

Could you go into the difference between the subtext and queerbaiting in it, I'm still kind of -well it's obviously gay but nothing was really ever said or shown that says that expect for people talking about it- Like are the characters and their relationship just queer-coded (positivly ofc lol) but the baitiness comes from them sort of confirming it off the show?

of course! im assuming by ‘it’ you mean merlin, but rather than explaining the reasons why i think bbc merlin is a matter of subtext (or queer coding) and not queerbaiting, i think it would be easier and more productive to explain the difference between the two in general. they are very similar - which is why i think a lot of people are unable to tell the difference between them - but they have important differences

just a warning, this is going to be a LONG post lmao ive bolded exactly what each term means below, after which i go into more detail on the whole issue. this is something im passionate about so,,, ♥

queerbaiting specifically refers to a marketing technique in which creators hint at but dont actually depict a queer character or relationship. They do this in order to attract a queer audience with the suggestion of a character or relationship they can relate to, while also avoiding alienating their queerphobic audiences

queer coding is the subtextual coding of a character as queer through the use of things like metaphor, allegory, hinting, recognisable traits/stereotypes/experiences, etc. This is done to build believable characters and create more complex plot lines, and it is also regularly used by people who want to tell queer stories but are unable to do so explicitly. it CAN be used negatively to enforce damaging stereotypes, but that is just a small part of its usage

both of these things utilise subtext in order to work. subtext is not only a crucial part of the creation of any piece of media, but is impossible to avoid.

an example of the most basic types of subtext is when a character tells someone that everything is going to be okay, but you can tell they dont believe it. or when youre watching a story unfold and you suddenly connect the dots and realise whats going to happen before its explicitly stated - you used subtext and the hidden meanings and hints to figure it out!

the people involved w a piece of media create their story with a specific purpose or meaning in mind, and they construct the subtext of the story to reflect that purpose/meaning. HOWEVER, the viewers dont always see things the same!

your experiences and personality shape the way you view and interpret every piece of media you consume. if you hate cops youll see the insidious undertones in cop shows - if you grew up with an abusive parent youll see the biting implications in a characters dialogue that others find innocent - if youre queer you will search for and fine queer characters everywhere, regardless of the creators intentions

now, both queerbaiting and queer coding use subtext to function, right? so how do you know which is being used and whether or not its a bad thing? its all about intention

to give a specific explanation of the difference im going to use two examples that are (arguably) very similar in the way their queer characters became canon

example 1: adventure time featured the characters marceline and princess bubblegum, who have been forever depicted as a couple in fan content. their interactions in the show were read into and latched onto bc we saw ourselves in them and we saw it as positive queer rep. but their relationship was never explicitly discussed during the course of the show and was only confirmed at the end of the final episode.

that makes 10 seasons in which their relationship existed only in subtext, and when it did finally exist in canon it was only for a few minutes, if that.

example 2: supernatural featured the characters dean and castiel (lol) who have been depicted as a queer couple pretty much since the first episode cas appeared in. i personally hung on their every interaction, analysed every glance between them, bc i interpreted deans character as a parallel to my own childhood trauma.

cas joined the show in season 4, so that makes 11 seasons in which him being gay existed only in subtext, and when it was confirmed he was immediately cut out of the show. the exact nature of dean and castiels relationship still remains in subtext.

so why is it that adventure time is widely considered perfectly fine but supernatural is dunked on as being the poster boy for queerbaiting?

its bc adventure time involved queer creators and was an earnest representation of queer characters, but they were boxed in by their publisher, Cartoon Network and thus the only way for the relationship to exist in the show was through subtext.

supernatural, however, consistently neglected their queer character and employed transparent tropes and stereotypes - bringing him in just sparingly enough to keep queer audiences interested while never being gay enough to alienate their macho manly man queerphobe audiences. they would have dean and cas stare into each other eyes for a full 30 seconds and then almost immediately follow it up with an episode about dean banging a disposable female character.

so imho adventure time falls under queer subtext, and supernatural falls under queerbaiting

when it comes to a show like bbc merlin i see a lot of debate about whether or not its queer coding or queerbaiting, and my intention is not to convince you of either. merlin was very much a product of its time, and i have argued the same about seasons 4-6 of supernatural as well, before the queerbaiting escalated and became exhausting to me

the purpose of this post is to start giving you the information you need to analyse any piece of media and come to your OWN opinion as to whether or not its queerbaiting or whatever else

people will ALWAYS have differing opinions about this shit yall. i have debated so many times w so many people about where the line is and whats okay and what should be ‘cancelled’ and if consuming something deemed problematic makes you a bad person or not

and my conclusion?

if youre capable of acknowledging the flaws and issues w a piece of media without trying to defend it as a shining beacon of purity simply bc you like it, then you do you. enjoy whatever you want to enjoy - if i think its reprehensible i simply will never interact with you lol

at some point everyone has to stop regurgitating these generic woke speak cancel culture speeches and buzzwords and formulate their own opinions

my advice to anyone reading this is to learn how to do close reading (ill provide a link to a wonderful short guide on it in a reblog bc tumblr hates links) and start really considering where you draw the lines with all types of content. decide for yourself whether merlin or supernatural or adventure time crosses the line into content you cant stomach, but respect other people whose interpretations differ from yours

i know a HUGE amount of people think supernaturals confession scene was homophobic and toxic - a slap in the face - but when i watched it i saw myself reflected in dean. a repressed bisexual whose emotions had been stunted by lifelong trauma, who wasnt ready to face his feelings for cas but quickly realising that his chronic avoidance and fear was about to tear them apart possibly forever. to me it was tragic and beautiful, and i loved it

i also think merlin is a tragic and beautiful love story, and to me its a pivotal piece of queer media that changed the way i viewed love and made me believe that it was a possibility for me bc i related so deeply to arthur

i hope that you can draw a satisfying answer from this, anon, and i apologise for this post being a full essay lol but i believe it needed to be said  - i dont think there is a right or wrong answer here

[creacherkeeper]

Welcome to the tOH fandom!! What do you think of ADHD! Luz (and maybe Eda too!) and autistic!Amity (and maybe Lilith as well)?

thank you!! okay listen this show is so so good for ND headcanons WEIRDOS GOTTA STICK TOGETHER and im like *cries* yea 

adhd luz is great. i love it. she’s eager and never runs out of energy, strong emotions & very expressive, can definitely act immature for her age (i saw something saying she’s 14 but idk if thats canon?), has a hyperfixation on learning magic & her azura books. her inability to choose a magic track i would argue could be read as indecisiveness or decision paralysis. and sometimes her own feelings cause her to miss cues from others (like with eda, amity, & king at the carnival). even the way she has to learn magic works as a metaphor - the way other people learn doesnt work for her so she has to adapt and have accommodations (something to draw on). we also see a few instances that suggest she’s not good at reading how trustworthy people are 

im totally down for adhd eda but i think i like autistic eda better. she has unusual style (the ripped dress, big earrings, gold tooth - not to mention the times she puts on ‘human fashion’). her speaking voice is unusual too, but is often at a flat effect (absolutely not a dig at the actress i’ve had a crush on her since i was like 9). special interest in owls & weird human objects. learns differently & thinks outside the box, but is still extremely gifted as a witch, she just has to do things her own way. uneven motor skills - very powerful witch & good at sports but also like, just fumbles her staff all the time. seems to get along better with demons (king, hooty, and i’ll count owlbert here too) over other humanoids. did NOT fit in at school. has trouble connecting to and empathizing with people, often says rude things whether she means to or not. tends to show affection through gestures (training, making the cloak) over words or physical affection. does NOT understand why she should have to follow the rules (school, witchcraft, society at large) because they seem arbitrary to her 

also - not an nd headcanon and FAR from a perfect metaphor - but my chronically ill ass was just sitting there like 8O SHE HAS TO TAKE HER MEDS OR SHE’LL GO INTO A FLARE and i was just pretty excited about that 

jury is still out on lilith for me. i can see autistic lilith though. she’s got flat effect, dulled emotional expression, gifted in her craft, trouble seeing eda’s pov, seems to be low empathy, and from what we see may be fairly gullible. i need to see more screen time from her before i make it an Official Headcanon though. 100% up to hearing other peoples arguments about this 

amity is a little harder for me but here’s my headcanon (cw child abuse) 

she very well could be autistic. i didnt get a strong Vibe from her one way or the other. but her behavior, to me at least, seems to line up a lot more strongly with childhood trauma. specifically parental abuse. granted we haven’t seen much of her parents yet, but that’s the vibe i got and i’ll explain why 

amity is extremely driven and perfectionistic, but it does not seem like she’s self-motivated. it seems like she’s trying to live up to her parents high and strict expectations of her. she wants to be friends with willow, and then later luz, but she can only keep the friends her parents deem are worthy - theyre controlling of her social interactions far more than is normal. she has very low tolerance for her own mistakes, and gets extremely upset when she’s embarrassed or gets into trouble. to me that’s a thing a kid learns at home - mistakes are a big deal (and could be punished in some manner). she’s very awkward at trying to make real friends, which makes me think she doesnt have good role models & her emotional development was not prioritized. in the beginning we see her bully people and gee wonder where she learned that. when she’s training, it’s not her parents or even lilith who are training her - its her older siblings who she doesnt get along with and dont even seem to be on the same track as her? so even though expectations for her as a witch are extremely high, the actual adults are neglecting to help her 

when both lilith and eda cheat at the covention duel - amity doesn’t get upset at lilith. she gets upset at luz who is not an adult and is an easy target. lilith and eda are really the ones that embarrassed her, but she doesn’t feel she can get angry at either of them and takes out her emotions lower in the pecking order. we also see that she quit grudgby forever because she accidentally hurt her teammates - which makes me think her anxiety & guilt in general is pretty high. when she does decide luz is cool, she gets Very Attached Very Fast which can definitely be a trauma thing - here is a Safe Person i am now incredibly invested in. when they go into willow’s memories, she’ll do anything to keep luz from seeing how she hurt willow, probably because she’s afraid luz will be disappointed in her (and what? abandon her for not being perfect?) and even her parents in the memory are just shadowy figures and not real people. her biggest fear (which, yes cute gay stuff was happening) is being rejected, which makes me think besides the grom there is an actual threat of that in her life

so ALL IN ALL yes some of these things overlap with autism & i definitely wouldnt argue against an autism headcanon, but to me this just is so strongly childhood trauma stuff that i personally wouldnt hc autism until i know more 

also LITERALLY ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE ND thank you for coming to my ted talk good day 

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

[delfinodreams]

OKAY i said i would make a post about my thoughts on paper mario a while ago and im finally writing it out

ill put it under a break because its probably gonna be long-ish

update: yea this bitch is LONG

okay so overall i really really enjoyed it!! it was really solid for the first entry in the series and i could definitely see the inspiration that ttyd later took from it. one thing that i didnt know about was partners not having HP, which threw me for a little bit of a loop. partners as a whole in this game don't play as active of a role as i wouldve expected because they have so little lines but using them in battle is still very fun! another small thing but i also hadn't expected mario to be completely silent, but it later grew on me!

i'm also gonna list my experiences and opinions on each chapter so here we go!!

chapter 1 - pretty alright for an introductory chapter! i didnt find anything especially notable, apart from getting 2 partners in one chapter. navigating the koopa bros. fortress was fun, and i loved the battle at the end!! their theme is SUCH a banger i had to sit back and listen to it for a bit when the fight actually started ehe

chapter 2 - not quite a fan of this one imo? i liked the first part through the mountain, but the trek though dry dry desert kinda took it out of me. BUT the addition of my favourite partner made up for it! parakarry my beloved <3 also the cutscene where dry dry ruins rise up??? that shit was SPECTACULAR. i absolutely loved how it turned dark when it first came up, i wish it stayed like that for more than just until you entered the ruins. the boss itself wasn't too exciting for me, probably because there wasnt much of a story?? i dont know how to describe it. actually its like that for quite a few of these bosses, but its the first entry for this series, so i wont fault it too much.

chapter 3 - this might be my FAVOURITE chapter- the suspense buildup throughout the entire chapter was AMAZING holy moly!!! first through the forever forest when you have bootler ask for you, and then wandering the mansion itself. i TOTALLY thought that boos were gonna be actual enemies when i saw them floating around. sneaking around tubba blubba's castle was so so fun to do, and i legitimately panicked when you ran into him in the hall and also when he wakes up and chases you back to the windmill. i didnt actually think the heart itself was the boss, just a miniboss, so i freaked out when i left the windmill and was immediately thrown into a battle with tubba blubba. i cannot express just how much i enjoyed this chapter, seriously!!

chapter 4 - coming back to toad town with the music change threw me for a bit; i wasnt expecting action to pop up so soon! figuring out that you could actually go into the toybox was such a "wait, what??" moment for me, but like, in a positive way. it was really cool to navigate this chapter and the lantern ghost encounter genuinely creeped me out at first because it was COMPLETELY dark. the fight against general guy is also a BANGER i could listen to it all day

chapter 5 - man i LOVE the whale. just a big guy willing to take u across the ocean :^) i really appreciated how you weren't stranded on the island too, like how you were on keelhaul key in ttyd. the ravens are also funky little guys, love them too. again, the lava piranha didnt really have any substance to it BUT it was a nice fight nonetheless! when it popped up again i was shocked but i made it through!! also fuck kolorado he doesnt deserve his wife

chapter 6 - this one's formatting is really neat- one central area with lots of branching paths, which i hadnt seen in my past pm experiences! i loved the quest leading up to the big beanstalk, plus the environment was so pretty!! the little part with the sun tower popped out to me, i'm not sure why though. maybe it was the music, it was so different from the flower fields theme. at first i had actually expected to go up to the clouds earlier, maybe like midway through the chapter. i thought that would be the "dungeon" of this part, so i was a little bit let down when i realized that the fields were the majority. however, the bit of the clouds we do see is SO good i LOVE the atmosphere!! huff n puff was actually relatively easy, using parakarry and lakilester for their all-around attacks. the guitars were a nice touch for his theme as well!

chapter 7 - oh dude i LOVED this chapter. i didnt know what i was expecting when i first went into the pipe in the sewers, whether it would put me into a village immediately or if i would have to make it through some screens before. needless to say, i was relieved when it popped me out into shiver city. the whole place felt "warm" which was really nice!! i was comparing it to ttyd's chapter 7 and fahr outpost which i didn't really vibe with, so it was a nice change! the whole murder plot was also unexpected but i enjoyed the whole "whodunnit" mystery! omg as im typing this i realize just how many aspects of this chapter i love this is gonna be long,, the entire snowy atmosphere is just so PRETTY and starborn valley felt so solitary to the rest of the land, like its own little bubble. i also had no idea that ninjis were in this game so when i saw one at merlon's i was like HUH?? anyways the way up the mountain to the crystal palace kept me on my toes; i thought that was the dungeon at first! the small bit where you see madam merlar and she tells you the story of the palace really got to me i have no idea why. the music and mysticality of it all was just SO good. dont even get me started on the crystal palace itself HOLY MOLY. the whole reflection bit was SO SO clever and the moment you realize its NOt actually a mirror?? fucking magnificent. this has to be my favourite dungeon in the whole game because it has such a NEAT gimmick!! it also has my favourite mario enemies, duplighosts! FUCK the crystal king though. he stunlocked me with his freezing move because i could not get the hang of blocking it. my partners really carried me for that battle; thank god for quick change

chapter 8 - THIS CHAPTER DELIVERED. the buildup for the entire game leading to this point. OUTSTANDING. i had to sit back and admire star haven because its so pretty- did i mention i love the water graphics in this game?? it has a pixelly look but it works SO WELL. going to the ship to take you to bowser's castle really felt like a "this is it" moment. the entirety of bowser's castle was So Good, it kept me on my toes the entire time!! slowly advancing as the music got more intense REALLY pumped me up. tracks that start off with only a couple instruments and eventually add more as you progress is one way to make me go BONKERS. the one bit where you make your way outside on the bridge and the music dials down and then you re-enter on the other side to it SLAMMING you in the face- that was Great. and then the complete silence as you get outside peach's castle HOLY SHIT. and then you actually enter the palace and the music is SO EERIE and youre like OH SHIT THIS IS REALLY IT. seriously, the buildup for this entire castle is done SO magnificently. i hadn't expected to fight bowser twice, i guess it was the game's way of letting u level up One Last Time before u got to the big bad. that being said, i wasn't too worried on getting a game over since i was fucking stacked on items. but that's besides the point- the fight itself got my heart POUNDING. the effects for the star rod and the star's powers were really nice to see in action, and the little section with peach and twink was so cool! i was expecting a little interlude where you would get your stats maxed out because thats how its like in every pm game, but it was still moving :)) bowser's final battle theme fucking SLAPS. the guitar especially sounds AMAZING. you really see him as a threat here and its so badass. his healing move fucked me over multiple times- i probably ended up having to deal with double his base HP over the course of the fight.

after the fight was over and you got to see peach's castle float down with the soft music in the background, it really hit me that its done, its over. again, the effects in this game are so pretty and theyre utilized SO well for the n64. visiting toad town one last time with all the npcs was a really nice touch- for some reason i really loved being able to interact with vanna t. (chuck quizmo's toad assistant) she's ADORABLE and i will probably end up drawing her sometime :)) the credits were also something that i really enjoyed- i LOVE the ongoing theme of parades at the end. seeing everything and everyone in the game condensed into a short 8 minutes really got me, i cant remember but im pretty sure i was smiling the whole time! and a small sidenote- TOADS WITH GLOWING SPOTS ON THEIR HEAD HELLO?????? I WANNA DRAW THAT SO BAD.

the ending screen with peach and mario looking at the fireworks made me really soft and i teared up a little because i was finally finished. the addition of pop diva's solo in the track was also so touching, it was my favourite sidequest in the game so hearing it again brought up Emotions :')

one thing i wasnt sure of was if there was a post-game mode and my completionist heart was disappointed a little when i found out i couldn't advance from the end screen and was forced to reset. although not many games from this era had post-game content so i cant dock too many points for that.

the paper mario series has a fond place in my heart, and finally being able to play the game that started it all really was a special experience. it really cemented my love for the original formula and i could see many places where ttyd took inspiration from. this game really is fun, and i would highly recommend playing it yourself if you have the means!

[dear-yandere]

—ask collection!

a collection of mostly very old chats and sweet asks that i never got around to answering! thanks for the patience and love!! 

beware, fairly long post... woops....

chat asks.

darling: Eu-jin is best boy. Change my mind.

vanya: i am physically incapable of fulfilling that request, how dare you do that to me... i’m biased since he’s my own oc, but i would die for my (very best) boy eu-jin... who can resist such a gentle yandere that loves you so whole-heartedly?

that reminds me! he’s actually based off of kuroyuki and gekkamaru from the otome nightshade, so if you want similar characters by any chance, do check them and the game out ♡

darling: I was watching the dub for Part 5 of JoJo's Bizarre adventure yesterday...Mista called himself Daddy and I like- sdfghjfgsdhnhnmj!! My heart can't take this--

vanya: WAIT HE DID???? i’m not even big on daddy kink and reading that made me go 😳 this is vital information to know... what episode was this??? for research purposes, of course. gotta perfect my yan! mista, after all~...

darling: for yandere songs, have you heard of the major to minor covers by chase holfelder :O? the way he delivers the lyrics in some songs (betty, all i want for christmas), added with the key changes to minor, is really fantastic, and gives a stalker-ish vibe imo! and he's a really good singer in general

vanya: i have!! a good chunk of them are actually on my personal yandere playlist, so i end up hearing them frequently when i’m writing!! i haven’t been keeping up with his uploads recently, so ‘betty’ is completely new to me and just, wow???????????? this man is an absolute god send for us “romantic” horror fans... ♡

this ask gave me such a lovely idea, though, darling: assigning yandere types/mbti based off each of chase’s minor key covers. i think i’ll do that just for you. ♡

darling @blossomiich​: I reread some of your old character interaction asks and saw the one with Jotaro hugging his Darling after a panic attack and the elephant seal plush reminded me of the iconic C H O N K Y ringed seal plushie that was kinda trending and I can totally imagine Jotaro having one of those >w< that's so adorable!

vanya: i honestly don’t remember that interaction, but then again i don’t remember most things hmghng so i looked it up and

j...just imagine star plat hogging it and not letting joot cuddle with it 🥺 the duality of man...thank you for this cute image...

darling: Umm, sorry for asking this. I'm just curious because of your bio language in your header. Are you Chinese too, perhaps?

vanya: no worries!! i’m mixed guyanese (indian, chinese, & possibly black and/or portuguese), but my family only celebrates (or rather, acknowledges?) our indian descent, since the majority of our family is predominantly east indian. 

my header is actually a quote from a danmei novel (and one of my all-time favorite fandoms), tiān guān cì fú (heaven’s official blessing)!

darling genki stan anon: Omg you're writing for free now, i didn't expect that one lol. It's a cute show innit? Not a nagi stan but I feel like nagisa has that kinda unsnapped personality that would make him peak delusional yandere material lolol like oikawa but less threatening and without his head being up his own ass 😂. Hope you're doing well!! -gsa

Gdjsjs im such a fool, i think my last ask said something about not thinking you'd write for free when i literally just pointed out kisumi on your sideblog LMAO my bad 😅 😂 also ill hold back on the gen chan requests because ive already asked so many in the past! Thank you though 🥺. Also feel free not to post this, it can just dip into my onesided chats with my lil flower 💐 so long as you receive them im fine 😌 -genki stan anon

vanya: nagisa isn’t my favorite (kisumi is), but gods if he wouldn’t make a great yandere. honestly, out of the iwatobi boys, nagi is probably the most unhinged. i wouldn’t peg him as delusional, at least not at first; i think he’s very lucid and knows exactly what he wants and how to manipulate people in order to get it!!! kisumi is fairly similar now that i think about it... i might... have a type...

please feel free to send in gen-chan requests whenever you want!!!! i’m kinda super asocial, so it’ll take me a while to answer, but i love getting asks from you since you’re so sweet and excitable!!! your little flower reads and cherishes them all!! 🥺

also darling genki stan anon: Sorry for spamming you with asks hdjkdks, u dont even need to reply im just kinda brain empty venting here whether you recieve them or not 😂 i just needed to confess that while yes i am #1 gen simp, and he is undoubtedly my fave oc of yours but that Ilya tentacle smut had me very much so highkey kinda 👀, had to re read the genki oral style drabble to bring my head back. He dont even need to worry about luca bc that man a thot. I think therin is a thot too but like lowkey, a classy thót -gsa

vanya: omg i’ve kept this one for forever mnmghngh i might’ve even answered at some other point, now that i think about it... but i just 🥺 gosh i hope i find my muse soon, because i really wanna write you a genki fic 🥺 hhhh

the ilya tentacle smut was so in character for that boy... i have no clue how to write monsters, much less tentacles, but i’d honestly do anything for him 🙏 kinky russian boy...

therin is definitely a classy thot, the kind that only bangs the finest concubines then turns around and slut shames you for banging the very same prostitutes gbfmngnfg rules don’t apply to him, in his kingdom...wish that were me tbh ✊😔

sweet asks.

darling one: i've read almost all of your dazai and chuuya fics and i love them so much!! your formatting is also super aesthetic just a question, i saw on your kofi that you also draw so i was wondering if you drew all the header arts?? bc they're all super pretty :) have a great day!

darling two: Just wanted to say love the writing and the way your format your posts is so aesthetically pleasing. One day I hope my posts looks half as good as yours because I legit can't get over how pretty and organized it looks.

vanya: omg thank you so much!!!! one of my bffs, yue, is to thank for the formatting and aesthetic choices, really! if you wanna see more of her aesthetic formats and posts, she actually runs a few blogs! you may know her as @milkscafe​, formally @milkaaton! i adore her and her aes choices so much 🥺

as for the headers, i don’t draw 99.98% of them! i have drawn a couple, but they’re so few and far in between since i almost never finish my art wips haha... my older posts are lacking proper credits because i’m an absolute idiot, but i’m slowly working my way backwards to credit them all where possible! they’re all indeed super pretty!!!

have a great day yourself, my love!!

darling: THEY’RE NOT BAD CONTENT, I LOVE THEM ALL

vanya: this was in response to a now-deleted lil blurb but i kept it in my inbox because i wanted to say i love u very much and seeing this ask each time i open my inbox makes my heart skip a beat ♡

darling: Listen I love your writing, you inspired me to start it myself! I've always loved to write, and read of course but your style and concepts just stick with me. If you where to write something besides Yandere content/fandom content and started your own series? I would read the shit, out of it. I'm always nervous to interact with my favorite writers because you know, I'm afraid of the impression I'd leave but I just wanted to say this anyway! 💞💞💞🔫😳

vanya: wowowow fgfnmgnfmngfg that’s such a high compliment my brain just gmfnbgmnf go boom fogjfngnfg and thank you for the interaction, us writers truly appreciate it no matter how awkward or nervous you think you may be / come off!!!

darling one: As a writer, your post struck a nerve with me. I don’t send feedback to writers I like nearly as much as I should (and certainly not as much as I’d like in return as a writer). So, as such, I’m going to start doing that when I can, starting with you.

You are an incredible writer. You were one of the first yandere writing blogs I found and you’re still one I check in on regularly to see what you have been working on. You can portray a sense of suspense and intrigue in a natural way that many other writers - published ones included - struggle with. You delve into the darkness without it feeling forced, and you have an amazing grasp on the psyches of the characters you write for (which is a quality I adore in writing and strive toward myself).

I’m not great at ending these things so I guess.. you keep doing you? Because the you is great and I appreciate it.

darling two:  hey. i'm here to tell you that from the bottom of my heart i love you and your writings. i really admire your writing skills. you inspire me. one of your posts once saved me from a nervous breakdown. thank you for everything you do. you're a wonderful person. good luck!

darling three: I wanted to tell you that thank you for writing such wonderful beautiful writings and that you take time to edit and write I hope you are taking care of yourself 💖❤

darling four: Thanks. I was having a hard time and deleted all my apps, but as soon as i opened my phone my first instinct was to look at your blog and i got my motivation back. Thanks (:

darling five: Hi ! I just wanted to say I really enjoy the stories you write and how they are detailed so well ! Stay safe and I hope you have a good day/night ! ლ(╹◡╹ლ)

vanya: ahhhh, these are very old asks mostly dating back to my “tumblr writing community is dying” post, and i’ve kept them this entire time because i’m just so starstruck. i have no clue how to reply to compliments, so i’m not sure what else to say besides that these asks made me very happy and got me through a few insecure moments!!! i’ve actually been feeling a little down about my writing recently, mostly because of lack of motivation / inspiration, so revisiting these really warmed my heart, so thank you truly ♡ i’m certainly keeping the originals in my inbox until the end of time!!

darling @monstrously-obsessed: psst, this local cryptic mom thing send all of their love for you 💕

vanya: your local herbo says she loves you very much momster 🥺 mwah

also, to the anon worried about my safety:

thank you so much for pointing that out!!! it hadn’t even crossed my mind when i made those ocs, so i appreciate your concern! i was contemplating revamping those two as is, so this is a great place to start! thank you again!!

[igottoomuchwriting]

For Forever Chapter 2

Series: First Part/Previous Chapter/Next Part

Connor Murphy: i stg if this mom doesnt chill tf out i will find where she lives and fight her

It has been a month since Connor and Evan started talking. At first, it was awkward, but slowly they broke the barrier through text messages and small conversations during English. Slowly they were learning more and more about each other.

Connor loved to read. Any book that they read as a class, Connor loved, even if it was an older one that everyone else thought was boring. One day in English, Connor had overheard a kid talking about how much they hated Pride and Prejudice and Connor started whispering to Evan about how the kid didn’t no good literature, how Lizzy was a feminist icon of the time, Darcy was the best boy and the romance was correctly written and “he was just pissy because he is a fucking white boy that doesn’t understand the hardships that women of those days have had to go through!”

He also loved TLC shows, especially Say Yes To The Dress. That was a shock to Evan, but Connor was talking about different dress one day and Evan was curious on how he knew. Connor was nervous to share, but he knew that he could trust Evan.

That’s what he was texting Evan about now. Hulu had put out new episodes and Connor was watching them while live texting Evan about everything that is going on.

Connor Murphy: SHES CRYING NOW AND THE MOM STILL WONT BUDGE

Connor Murphy: thats it

Connor Murphy: im flying to georiga. Ill see you later evan

Evan Hansen: I know you have that ability so please dont

Connor Murphy: like my parents would let me

Evan Hansen: Find something nice in Georgia that your mom would love to see. I’m sure that will get her going

Connor Murphy: well which is it hansen

Connor Murphy: should i go punch this lady in the face or no

Evan Hansen: Definite no

Evan never really was interested in those shows, but he did watch one episode to see what he loved so much about it. It was a good show, and he really did love Randy and most of the brides that came through the shop. His mom had walked in when he had it on the TV, which sparked a conversation of how they were and who Evan liked.

“You know this is a safe place, honey!” Heidi had cooed.

“I know,” Evan mumbled, looking down at the ground awkwardly.

Since then, he’s been trying to pointedly show that he likes girls, and only girls.

Connor Murphy: oh good the bride won

Evan Hansen: With Randy on her side, how could she not

Connor Murphy: true

Connor Murphy: shit

Connor Murphy: my mom is home

Connor Murphy: i have to go to my bed and pretend to get some sleep

Connor Murphy: night

Evan Hansen: Goodnight

Evan decided that he should probably go to bed too. He had a test tomorrow, and he needed to sleep so he wouldn’t freak out as much when the time came.

He quickly turned off the TV and headed back up to his room.

---

Evan did not get any sleep. Right as he was about to fall asleep, his mom came home. Since he was still delirious, he thought it was a burglar. Suddenly he was awake and on alert, ready to do what he needed to.

Without getting out of bed and drawing attention to himself, of course.

He stumbled off of the bus, shoulders slouched over and tired look in his eyes. His classmates shoved past him in a hurry to get to the cafeteria for breakfast, but Evan just slowly made his way to his locker.

“Acorn!” he heard Jared call. Evan turned around to see Jared walking towards him, same amount of confidence in his walk as he always had. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, so Evan assumed that his first period teacher is either late or has a sub who is late.

“Please don’t call me that,” Evan mumbled.

“Aw, come on! It’s a term of endearment. All fun and games, ya know?” He threw his arm over Evan’s shoulder and they continued the walk to their locker. “It’s a playful jab at a silly mistake you made.”

Evan’s hand shot to his cast, holding onto it gently.

Yeah. A silly mistake.

“I’m gonna come over today after school. My mom’s been wondering why we haven’t been hanging out lately.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“You still got Mario Kart, right?” Evan nodded his head. It was the last gift his dad had gotten him before he left, and even though Evan is not fond of his dad, he still tries to hang on to when life was good.

“Cool! Then we can play that today!” Evan just nodded his head again and opened up his locker. Jared continued to talk about a girl--or the same girl that he met over the summer, he doesn’t know anymore--and Evan turned his head to the side to see Connor at his locker. He was slouched over and seemed to be angrily putting stuff into his backpack.

“Sorry, uh,” Evan spoke, interrupting Jared’s sentence, “I’m gonna go talk to Connor.”

“Really?” Jared turned to look at Connor as threw a book into his locker. He flinched. “I don’t think you wanna talk to that dude right now. He seems like he is in a bad mood.”

“That’s why I wanna, um, talk to him.” He started playing with the bottom of his t-shirt. “I want to see if he’s okay.”

“Your funeral, man,” he said with a shrug. He gave Evan one last violent pat on his shoulder before walking away.

Evan closed his locker and took a deep breath. Connor hasn’t been in a super bad mood since they started talking, so Evan was worried if Connor would even want to talk to him or not.

“Hey Connor,” he mumbled. Connor whipped his head around and shot a glare at Evan.

“What?” he snapped. Evan took a step back and looked down at the ground.

“Well you seem like you’re in a bad mood so I wanted to come over and see if you’re okay but you barely know me so I don’t know why you would even want to talk to me about it. I’m sorry I should’ve have even come over, I’ll leave, I’m sorry,” Evan stuttered out. All his words started blending together and he was stumbling over his words.

Connor sighed and hit his head against the top of the locker.

“No, I didn’t mean to snap at you. You did nothing wrong.” Evan glanced up at him before looking back down.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he mumbled. Connor was silent for a moment. Evan was just about to turn around and leave him alone when he started talking.

“My parents took my fucking phone last night because they didn’t believe that I was texting someone other than a fucking drug dealer. I told them that no goddamn drug dealer would be answering fucking calls at that hour because they were trying to act like normal fucking people but they took my phone anyway!” He slammed his locker closed and Evan jumped. “They don’t believe a fucking thing I say and it pisses me off because I was actually telling the truth this time!”

Evan looked around the hallway and saw people giving Connor both confused and dirty looks. He didn't know what to do. Jared never came to him for emotional things, and since Jared has been his only friend growing up, he never had anyone else come to him for anything. The closest that he has come to comforting someone was when he walked in on his mom having a breakdown, but even then she turned it around and made sure that he was okay.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That’s--That, um, sucks.”

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Connor grumbled.

The first bell rang, signaling that students have five minutes to get to class. Connor turned towards the doors at the end of the hallway.

“Wait, where are you going?” Evan anxiously called.

“Anywhere but fucking here.” With that, he was gone.

Evan watched Connor’s dark figure disappear around the corner outside, wondering if he should tell someone. What was Connor going to do? Would he hurt someone?

Would he hurt himself?

“Get to class, Mr. Hansen!” Evan heard a teacher call. Evan looked behind him to see Ms. Asher--the English teacher that no one liked--raising an eyebrow at him. Saying nothing, Evan moved on to his first class.

---

Evan hasn’t seen Connor all day. It was lunch time now and the boy still wasn’t here. Since they started talking more, he and Connor started sitting together at lunch. Connor never ate anything, and Evan did try, but sometimes his anxiety became too much and he just couldn’t stomach what the school was giving him. During those days, Connor tried his best to calm Evan down enough to where he would get Evan to each at least some bland tater tots.

That wasn’t the case today. He sat alone in the corner of the cafeteria, untouched food in front of him.

It’s not like he wasn’t used to this. Jared would never sit by him, always opting to work on programming by himself and not be seen with Evan, and since he had no other friends, he was pushed to the corner of the room.

Evan was deep in thought when he heard a voice.

“Evan Hansen?” Evan snapped his head up, only to freeze when he saw Zoe Murphy standing there, kind smile on her face.

“Oh, uh, yeah. That’s me,” he stuttered out. How long has she been standing there? Was she just waiting for Evan to notice her?

“Sorry to bother you, but can I ask you a question?” Oh okay, straight to the point. Evan wiped his palms on his jeans.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

“Are you and my brother friends?” That’s not what he was expecting.

Are they friends? He doesn’t know if Connor considers Evan a friend, but does Evan?

“Uh, yeah,” he drew out. “Yeah, I guess.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She looked around the lunch room before sitting down across from Evan.

Oh God.

“Do you guys text?”

“Yeah, why?” Did something happen? Why would she need to know if they texted?

“Were you guys texting last night?”

“Yes?” Evan was about to have an anxiety attack. Did Connor tell her? Did Connor spill everything that Evan told him? Is Zoe making sure that this is the Evan Hansen that he is talking to so that she can go around and tell everyone?

“Okay,” she mumbled. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for asking these questions, but Connor got his phone taken away yesterday and my parents wanted to see if who he was texting went to our school.”

“Oh.” Great, so Connor’s parents read their text messages? There was private stuff in there. He hasn’t even met these people and they already know his fears? Did Connor delete the texts he sent when he was having a mental breakdown?

“I haven’t seen the messages!” she quickly added. “My parents only asked if I knew the name ‘Evan Hansen’ and so I wanted to make sure it was you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled. They sat in a silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say.

Zoe broke the silence.

“When did you two start talking?” The questions continue.

“About a month ago?”

“Why?” Well that’s not going to be shared. How would Evan even say that? Yeah, you’re brother stole something of mine and flipped out on me but I was able to calm him down and get it back and now we are basically becoming best buds!

No.

“He, uh, wanted to apologize for getting mad at me in the hallway on the first day of school.” That was kind of the truth.

“And you guys kept talking because…?”

“He was nice.” Zoe immediately rolled her eyes. Oh no. Did he say something wrong?

“He’s not nice, Evan.”

“Wh-What?”

“He’s a druggie who will turn on you when you make one little mistake.” Evan stared at Zoe in disbelief. Here is Connor’s sister, who is known for being happy and helping others, staring at Evan with an angry look in her eye. She’s spending her time, giving Evan a warning.

“He--I don’t think--would he really?”

“He’s done it to me countless times.” Before Evan could say anything else, she stood up. “I’m not telling you what you should do. I’m just warning you that my brother is a loose canon.” With that, she left.

Evan stared at the spot she had just occupied. Zoe has obviously been with Connor her whole life and she knows more than Evan. If she is giving him a warning, he should listen.

Shouldn’t he?

---

When it was sixth period, Evan didn’t know what to do. Surprisingly, he didn’t have any homework to do for that day. He didn’t want to write a letter to his therapist either, as the only thing that happened today was talking to Zoe.

He decided to walk home. It was the last period of the day, and no one was going to be waiting for him. He also wanted to make sure his house was clean before Jared came over.

Evan didn’t get far off of campus before a truck pulled up next to him. With his headphones in, he didn’t hear the driver call out to him. He did hear the car horn, however.

He whipped his head to see Connor sitting in the truck, looking at him threw the passenger window. He quickly pulled out his headphones.

“Connor?” he asked.

“Get in, Hansen.” Evan didn’t question, he just walked across the grass dividing the street and the sidewalk and into Connor’s car.

Connor pulled out into the road before Evan could buckle his seatbelt fully.

It was silent between the two. Evan wanted to know where Connor went in the beginning of the day, if he was doing better, if he was okay in general.

“I didn’t mean to flip out on you earlier,” Connor stated.

“I know,” Evan mumbled. It was silent again. You would think after talking for a month, they would be a little better at talking to each other.

Evan watched all the trees go by. The radio was playing in the background, and the sky was blue with only a few clouds. Always a little strange for October weather.

“Have you ever been to the orchard?” Connor asked. Evan shot him a confused look.

“What orchard?”

“So I’ll take that as a no.”

“Where is it?” Evan asked.

“Well, it’s closed now, but it was almost like a forest reserve for people to go to. You could have picnics, there was a creek, all that fun stuff.” Evan hummed.

The rest of the car ride was filled with small talk. At some point, they had gotten onto the topic of bands they liked, and it blew up from there.

“You’ve never heard of Hollywood Undead?” Connor laughed. “How the fuck have you not?”

“They’re not a very popular band, obviously,” Evan shot back. Connor turned to him with a look as if he had personally attacked Connor’s work himself.

“They are popular!”

“Sure, Connor.”

“You shut the fuck up, Mr. ‘Taylor Swift is a better country singer than pop’.”

“Well, she is--”

“You have no taste.”

It wasn’t long before they reached where Connor was taking them. Evan looked around as Connor turned off the car and saw trees everywhere, as well as a gate with a sign that said “NO TRESPASSING”.

“Uh, what are we, uh, doing here?” Evan asked.

“We’re gonna walk around.”

“W-Wait, what?”

“Come on, Hansen,” Connor called, ignoring the panic rising in the boy. He hopped out of the car and Evan quickly followed, leaving his backpack in the car.

“We can’t go in!” he called out. Connor rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, it’s fine.”

“What if someone finds us? What if they see your car and come searching and then we get in trouble? What if we get arrested? I can’t have my mom bail me out of jail, and your parents won’t--”

“Evan!” Connor yelled. Evan immediately stopped talking. “It’s fine. I come here all the time. I was just here earlier, and no one found me. No one even thinks about this place anymore.”

Evan nodded his head in understanding and looked down at the ground. He heard Connor take a deep breath.

“Just… Come on. You can trust me.”

Evan followed Connor to the fence. Right under the trespassing sign was a cut part of the fence that looked like it was able to be pushed back. Connor pushed the fence piece back and held it open, motioning for Evan to make his way through.

Evan made it on the other side, careful with his cast, and Connor followed suit. Evan looked around in amazement. How come this place was abandoned?

“This place got closed down after they opened up the park as a national park,” Connor answered his unasked question. “Apparently people feel like going to a national park would be more fun than an orchard, even though it’s the same fucking thing.”

Connor stared walking into the trees and Evan was quick to follow.

It was gorgeous. It was a surprise that he has never seen this place. His mom and dad would always love to take them out and show him the nature, the flowers, the birds. It was a big part of his life, and a big reason why he loved trees. Participating in the Junior Ranger program was a way for him to try and go back to those times.

Happier times.

“So homecoming’s coming up,” Connor stated. “You going?”

“Well, uh, probably not?” Those kind of things were never Evan’s thing.

“Even if a cute girl asked you out?” Connor laughed as Evan blushed. The only girl Evan would even want to ask him out is Zoe, but after their conversation, he has been questioning his relationship with her.

“If someone asked me out, that’d be a shock in itself.”

Connor laughed. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” Evan asked. “You going?”

“No. No way.”

“Not even if a girl asks you?”

“There’s no girl that could make me go to any dance.” Evan hummed.

“What if your crush asked you? There is a girl you like, right?” Connor gave him a side look and coughed.

“Yeah. A girl…” He didn’t say anything after, and Evan didn’t want to push it, so they fell back into silence.

“We’re here.” Evan gave him a confused look.

“Wait, where?”

“Look.” Evan looked anxiously at the space past the trees Connor motioned to before walking forward.

Past the trees was a big open grass field, surrounded by trees. The wind was blowing the long grass gently and the sun was peeking out from behind the threes, just getting ready to set for the night.

Evan was in shock. This place was gorgeous.

“I assume you like it?” he heard Connor call.

Evan shook his head. “Connor, this--this is amazing! How did you find it?”

“I was just walking around one day and stumbled upon it.”

Evan stared at the whole place. Connor watched him with a smile.

“You said you like to climb trees, right?” Connor asked. Evan stiffened up.

“Um, yeah,” he stuttered out.

“Come on. There’s a tree with really low branches.” Connor started walking away towards a tree that Evan saw stuck out from the rest. It was slightly out of the circle of trees, and Evan understood why Connor chose that one. The branches are definitely lower than the others, and easier for the boys to reach.

“I--I don’t think I can climb right now,” Evan called towards him. Connor turned and gave him a confused look.

“Why not?” Evan just held up his cast. Connor looked at for a second before realization hit. “Fuck, that’s right. I’m a fucking moron.”

“Sorry,” Evan shrugged.

“Why are you sorry?”

“You wanted to climb the tree, and I can’t.” Connor sighed and shook his head.

“That’s not your fault, man.” Evan nodded his head and decided not to say anything else.

His phones started buzzing in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out to see who is was.

It was Jared.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. Connor was next to him now, looking down at his phone.

“Kleinman? What does that fucker want?” Evan opted to not comment on Connor’s obvious hatred of Jared.

“I forgot I was supposed to hang out with him today.” He hit answer and turned away.

“Evan! Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, I was walking home but Connor wanted to hang out--”

“Connor? Connor Murphy? You’re with him right now?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I am headed back right now--”

“Did he kidnap you or something, dude? You guys never hang out outside of school. I never even thought the guy was stable enough to do something.”

Evan anxiously shot a look at Connor, but he was picking at his nail polish, so Evan was sure he didn’t hear Jared.

“He can. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I’m heading back now. Just go inside, I’ll be home soon, ignore the mess.”

“Whatever you say dude. Bye.”

With that, Jared hung up. Evan turned back to Connor, fiddling with his phone.

“I’m sorry Connor, can we--”

“Yeah, we can go back.” Connor clipped. Evan flinched. He looked down at the ground anxiously.

“Sorry, this was fun, but--”

“I know,” Connor forced a smile across his face. “You and Jared had plans. Nothing wrong with that.”

Connor started walking away, and Evan couldn’t help but get the feeling that Connor was truly upset.

He quickly followed Connor back to his car and tired to calm down his anxiety.

“Thank you for taking me here,” Evan said when they got back into Connor’s truck.

“Yeah. We can come back.” Evan looked down to hide a smile.

Connor actually wanted to hang out with him again. Hang out, in public, for no reason other than to hang out with Evan.

Is this was real friendship is like?

[caskit2]

Gorillaz Analysis

Caskit’s not ready to throw all their cards on the table but the time has come!!! 

Okay then, I had to think long and hard about what I wanted to talk about here with Gorillaz cause DAMN!! 

I love gorillaz, 

I love the characters 

damon is a gift that we just dont deserve 

But how did I end up in the fandom pool? 

Well for one, I have heard of gorillaz music back in middleschool but at the time I was busy with Invader Zim and Inuyasha as well as jumping into this band wagon as well  (Full metal Alchemist) 

so by the time I turned to look at Gorillaz was when phase 3 was JUST wrapping up and making way for phase 4. which means I jumped into a fandom that had characters that I knew NOTHING ABOUT. Do you know what that means?

It means I also had no understanding or knowledge of why people shipped “this or that” in the fandom, but I gained some intel on the characters and the growing plot of the story, but other than that, I didnt understand why I was drawn to a particular “ship” in the fandom.  

*actual expression made, im not joking*

Once upon a time, caskit discovered 2doc and was not surprised that this was a ship. I have seen similar stuff that has a common theme that i was drawn to at the time. I was more interested in why fans ship them so I dived in head first into the boiling lava and came to a conclusion.,.....

I dont see them as able (capable?) of ever ending up in the way that most 2doc shippers would pick. The two are chaotic on levels of different tiers of “weird and gross” and I dont really have a reason as to why i was drawn to the ship, but It made me want to analyse what exactly a stable relationship is!

I basically walked around in that area of the fandom and didnt really form any “attachment” to it. I never really experienced a “healthy relationship”, lived in childhood and teen years were I went through life avoiding relationships. So I didnt have a good start, but I knew eventually that I would have to explain myself. 

I feel bad that I wouldnt be able to give a solid answer to what makes me want to sit down and analyse any scenario that has “present abuse undertones” but I know that in the past and how I grew up with what I was exposed to...That I would come to realize how unhealthy it is just for me. 

This post isnt particularly about 2doc itself, but its more about discussing how I handled MY reaction to something that I have seen over and over. In a way, I could see those abusive tones that were present.

Basically Caskit never experienced good healthy relationships and decided that it was a good idea to use gorillaz as a processing strategy....not a good idea in the end cause...OOOHHHHHHH 

It confused me more than before!!! 

I got friends that tag their stuff, and I dont really get so bothered with peoples own opinions, cause I was more worried about how I would come to understand everything. 

When I think about how fans are dividing and putting up a wall to keep “haters outa my yard”  it usually has to deal with shipping stuff, and character hating. And I guess I was confused about everyone’s perception of the characters.

Talking about the characters, I dont have a “least favorite to most” cause I have specific connections to them in different ways. 

I can find similarities to noodle for the expectations she had in a band at age 10 and growing up (plus we are both gays that dont like to publicly talk about relationships) 

I connect with Russel cause I lost a piece of myself  after a paranormal encounter and 3 near death experiences and suffer hallucinations. His protective demeanor to little noodle clicked with me. I see him as the Heart and soul, dedicated and warm friendly guy. ( you mean a decent human being right?)

I relate to 2d in a way that I share his enthusiasm, and mad bravery to live with the same guy who ran him over and caused 2 accidents that are permanent. 

I relate to murdoc in a weird way...  His childhood hits too close to home for me, as a CSA survivor of 2 incidents, pain addict and victim of abuse, draws similarities. But there were things that he has done that match things to my past like the abusive father, and dwelling on the darker aspect of a bittersweet reality. I was expressing physical violence to “show affection” and was never called out for it. I was not just a victim, I was also the abuser and since it was something that murdoc is faced with, is why I hated him. He is (for me) the thing I hate about myself. 

When I saw more and more fans hating on murdoc I wondered if people would ever think I was the same as him. Fans didnt like the way he treated 2d  and the rest of the band, And I agreed. Fans hated him for lying and causing drama and I agreed.  

His ignorance was a comedy slapstick (dressing in a nazi uniform cause he thought it “looked cool” despite russel telling him that its not a good idea) and was seen as the “crazy hooligan that has delusional dreams of fame”  and it bothered me that jamie used this to cover up allot of obvious issues that needed to be addressed. and the way that the fandom treated him made me think about how I would be accused of being like him. 

(thank goodness I didnt cause a car accident and have to sell my soul to satan for a shot at fame with a kickass band and didnt make uncomfortable sexual jokes or ignore others that tried to help me.) 

I can separate what justifies the hate on murdoc when it comes to abuse and causing shit to go down. becuase I did those things in the past, but it didnt take me more than a decade or more to realize that what I did was wrong! I didnt take forever to change for the better. so Im frustrated at him for taking so long to turn around and go “holly fuck im a bastard! I should probably fix that” 

Yeah NyOO ShiTT HunnayYY!! 

I dont hate him for being an idiot, I hate that he symbolizes all things wrong about me that never got closure! 

him admitting to being the cause of 2d’s social anxiety and eye damage as well as the abuse is easier said than done! but the fact that he is letting everything out of the “in-denial basket” is nice for me to see, cause right now Healing and progression in closure to issues of trauma is what is important to me. 

The endgame for my perspective on 2d and murdocs relationship is this: 

I dont want to ship them

I dont even see it as a thing regardless of character development and both guys working through their own shit themselves. 

I am not the best person to explain what a toxic or abusive relationship can be. 

Why? becuase I lived through it and I was both the victim and abuser to myself  and grew up without a good relationship (and I have a fear of positive affection) so I dont enjoy going through the same pattern as before where i shipped abuse in the past as a “dumb 13 year old weeboo” 

I dont view their relationship as romantic, or platonic, or healthy. 

I just want the boys to enjoy their own character growth individually. 

I would like to eventually see a friendship with them But I’ll be more excited if instead the whole band eventually gain a healthy relationship with everyone.  

Year 2018 marks the year I jumped in head first into gorillaz as a blind fruit bat 

(I call it the year caskit played with fire) for cosplaying ‘murdoc fuckn wrinkles’ at a convention around the time the fandom was yelling at him and jamming to 2d’s album. 

Caskit jumped into the shipping lava all for Behavioral analyzing and hopped over fences to see other fans perspectives of characters they liked and hated just to make sure Caskit could understand the illuminati that is Gorillaz. 

I made friends all over the fandom, and thanks to a few people, I gained more confidence to push my art skills and create some kickass art of Gorillaz. 

And yeah I yap yap about murdoc ( looks over @russelhusselhobbs im sorry you put up with my bullshit) but remember peeps. 

I like hearing about the others and have gotten more into 2d’s character as well as Jumping over the fence to go hang out with russel fans and listen to fangirling from friends and just trying to be a freakn fairy godmother and deliver some good representing art. 

And for those who aren’t aware, my past artwork is probably gonna float around so if its signed as Caskit or Caskit19 then its mine and if you see my old 2doc stuff.....,

for the trigger. 

But YEAHHHHHH!!! I wanted to throw all this on the table. and I dont know how to feel about that...(I swear my friend jokes with “need some feel good inc for Caskit” ) Kinda contemplating my choice between sticking my head into a hornets nest or jumping into a dark water trench.... the hornets nest sounds less likely to give me a seizure induced panic attack so ill go for that. ( I have a tolerance for inflicted pain so no you cant hurt me by using violence cause I dont have any consideration for myself and my safety)  

But yeah now I can get back to drawing fun stuff. (hopefuly caskit wont have to bore you guys with stupid shit ever again! xD) 

[kosmicdream]

im at work binging the ffak faq tag because fuck it (also its 76 pages) and I have a Q: do you think you've had any significant changes to ur influences from 2 years ago?

Omg Im so sorry, the ffak faq is in.. a desperate need of organization. Its something i want to try to get to at some point but it also really overwhelms me. Thankfully though I don’t think i’ve gotten this question!

I’d say yes? there has been a couple significant changes in my influences. I’ve been through a lot in the past 2 years and some of my tastes have reflected that. However its probably not a whole lot. I’m the kind of person that is very nostalgically committed to things, so once something has made its way into my heart at some point it pretty much just stays there forever. Even if i don’t really think or care about it that much I’ll reflect on it and what about that work might have influenced me as time goes on. I also dont really take the time to experience new media. If i do, i want to experience all of it at once in a binge reading experience and I can really mess up my schedule in the result of doing that lol.

I’d say the biggest impact has been Vinland Saga which I think I read sometime in.. I think after july in 2017 sometime..? I’m not completely sure of the date, but it was in 2017. I love Vinland Saga so much now that I think its my favorite manga at this point. A place in my heart where I used to reserve for.. Berserk, i think. Berserk used to be (and of course still is) one of my strongest inspirations but my feelings towards it have kind of gotten more and more sour and critical even though I still deeply appreciate it and I wouldnt be the same artist without -- I still want to see the fruition of that story. But. Its not really my sweetheart anymore lol. I think its a common thing to relate berserk and vinland saga as well (or at least, I’ve seen the comparison quite a lot in reviews?) despite how those two stories are actually significantly different from eachother and its probably kind of a cheap comparison to make. (i think berserk is often just Used As A Comparison To Things because Its Berserk. Its just that kind of series.)

BUT the reason why I’m using it here, is that for me-- both these comics affected me very deeply, during very dark times in my life, and unlike in berserk which almost sucked me into a deeper depression of hopelessness-- vinland saga had a resolution of sorts that felt cathartic, healing and hopeful. in a way i have not really experienced in a story before. it was genuinely one of the BEST reading experiences i have ever had and even if that story is still unfinished, the conclusion of an arc was enough for me to feel like i got a satisfaction from this story in a way i didn’t expect to come at ALL or so early. It makes me feel so happy in my heart and I love it so much for what it gave me. (I also was very fond of thorfinn from the beginning of that story, which i usually dont care for protagonists that much, its usually some other character i get attached to.)

I don’t really expect berserk to give me a ‘pay off’ at this point and so I’m kind of thankful that i have found another series that i can connect with in this very specific deep way like i did with berserk, but also kind of gave a sense of closure so that I can almost appreciate berserk more now instead of feeling bitter towards it. I dont need it to do anything more because vinland saga helped give me that already. Vinland Saga also, from a visual standpoint, inspired me a lot to work more on my art and pages. (or specifically, spend more time on my pages to make them look better.)

I think besides that comic, which is the hands down #1 biggest influence, i also have very recently read Houseki No Kuni/Land of the Lustrous and it also inspired me quite a lot but in totally different ways. I could probably go on and on about it as well but I think to summarize my feelings is that it made me excited about manga again. I want to see more stories like this which are creative, yet simple and flexible and the art perfectly compliments the narrative. It really feels like the artist knows what they want to talk about and they are comfortable drawing in the way they like to.

Other comics I have read recently and its completion are: FMA, Eden: its an endless world!FMA was very solid and I feel it completely deserves the attention it gets but i also don’t feel like I really need to think about it anymore now that I’m done reading it??? I guess its almost too polished for me? I still am thankful i finally decided to read it and I enjoyed it a lot. Alphonse is wonderful. Eden made me annoyed for... a lot of reasons LOL but I also really think its going to be a comic that ill dissect my emotions over and think about in detail. and i can really appreciate when a story might not really be my think but was different and still interesting enough to make me fuss over. Also for whatever reason the scans i read of that comic had hilarious, and i think purposefully so, sound effects and i have not laughed so hard at such inappropriate moments in a manga ever before and I think that makes that reading experience so special to me. in such a strange way. and i absolutely want to use sound effects like in that comic.. thing

I think in the past 2 years i also finished rereading Parasyte (because i never got to the ending when i first started reading it) and i also kind of feel kind of a mixed bag with that story. The premise was so exciting when i first read it years ago, i think in 2010 is when i first read it, but i ran out of volumes and never got back to it. Now that i finished it I was like oh that was it? ok i guess. and I dont really feel like i was as excited about it.I also read Devilman in the past 2 years and that was interesting? to reflect on from like, a historical significance point of view but like. I didn’t super duper get into it. It almost felt like a needed reading requirement that i had put off for way too long and Now i feel like I have a better context to the evolution of many of my favorite comics and where they draw influence from in this series. (Also it was very fun to watch the yuasa adaptation recently bc yuasa is one of my biggest art influences for his kemonozume series specifically)

Hmm I’m trying to think of anything else, but honestly Vinland Saga feels are still pouring thru so I guess... vinland saga lol.

Oh! I finally read Pluto by Naoki Urasawa in the past couple years (i think) and, like, i already love Urasawa (Monster is hands down one of my favorite comics/animes), i love tezuka (i will literally read anything he made), i knew id adore Pluto and.. i did! I think one of my new projects (replacer) was definitely influenced by pluto in a huge way.

A couple weeks ago i read Witch Hat Atelier and it was gorgeous, but short so far.

Ok I can’t really think of anything else but I hope this has been interesting/informative of what is circling around in my head at the moment! :D thanks for asking.

[saniika]

As promised before this is a drama-free blog. Please do not read further, this is a personal announcement which is very much in the drama category. There will be no filter and lots of swear words. 

TLDR: I am not well, will be not active as usual and don’t know when Ill be back. Bunch of stuff is gone, it’s not just you imagining things. I wrote all this since I gotten asks which I hid away from.

I am not ok. For about a year I've gotten under lot of pressure, both mental and physical. Shortly before that I closed  very traumatic period in my life and even went of antidepressant. And then bam, the above happened, yoi came in the mix. Wow! Fantastic a coping mechanism, works so well. I am happy. Friends message me genuinely excited to see me happy. I listen to music, read, draw and it shows its full of love. A sanii-wonderland.

But... nothing lasts forever, right?

I entered this exhausted and rushed like a hound dog. I wanted validation, to matter and make some good for the world (I cant sadly cure ass politics, world hunger or happiness for LGBT...yeah.) So Ive set to put my services into promoting writers with fanarts to their fanfics - because hey they made me happy, what other way to show thanks? Drawing fanarts just to join the happy in the community. Talk in streams. And Im telling you the insomnia rushes where the brain was like squirrel on caffeine - those are really damn productive periods. With horrible consequences.

Months went by, sometimes I didnt feel good, panic attacks started to be present, nightmare drove me to the point of waking up in fright (I got scared I fell asleep). Other health related issues arose...twirling down the ground as they say.

I met some really nice people which I will not mentioned here as I dont want to pull them into my drama post (even if id say thanks), participated on incredible project. The more I got involved into the fandom and socials it got faster and before I knew it - I felt like im stuck on a rollercoaster, about to puke and the fucking ride doesn't stop.

Thoughts like these arose - I’m too old, I’m not fast enough, cant keep up this speed, why does this person has so much success, has so many friends etc. Bad bad toxic feelings - which I am happy I did not act upon, no one deserved these and it was all in me. Friends helped here since I admitted these to them and was quite surprised to hear many felt similar - burnout from the fandom, apps in general, life in the whole mix.

I thouhgt itll pass, focused on the writing which made me really excited and productive. I drew my whole life, its the best I can do - the other thing I can do best is - hating myself. So believe it or not that actually helped with yakov flamers - no one can hate myself more than me. Im a medalist at that. Back back to the track.

Physically speaking I sought out doctors and they didnt help me as I expected they would. I have to write and type a lot in IRL job and my chronic pain in hand turned into vicious icepick stabing pain in collarbone + completely sore numb right upper torso. It took me a week to be able to type on a phone without vincing.

And few days ago - I actually cant tell what day it was because I spend the whole weekend in bed and ate once. Never had such episode, so that was really... not fun - I had a meltdown and deleted bunch of things. So if you cant find them - they are not there. You will see my art rebloged here and there, but the original posts are gone. With each delete I felt lighter and had a good cry too.

It all came down to this - I felt cheap, taken for granted and all the initial thoughts of happy turned into realisation (with the help of friends) that I do expect things in return. Im not the type to play an attention whore and avoid posting complaints as pest. Yet here I am. Because -

Bit by bit I neglected breaks for bathroom for drawing. Didnt rest the hand when I was supposed to. Wrote feedback or comments for others when I was tired. Offered support on drunk/depressive/suicidal posts and offered support in chat even though I should have invested into selfcare. And it all snowballed to this - loosing love towards certain pairings, drawing itself. Aaaaand posting 2 pics after such a break brought me to breathing labored and wow, suddenly I am here - BAM - very not ok.

I left a bunch of places, set up things so that I speak with bare minimum of people. I have no idea what Ill do from now on, but I know its easier to just watch others and consume - or maybe even easier to watch as little as possible (let me be frank, I really don’t care who sticks a dick to whom’s ass - petty discourse about pairings and topping really sour me and - EAT VICTORS DICK, CHOKE ON IT - became my private favorite curse. Don’t get me started on self entitled critics on whats right to draw, write and ship.... FUCKING WILL YA - just do your thing, have fun, SHUT UP - make stuff that makes you happy if you don’t see it around or PAY others to do it. OR like support them, be NICE. Doesn’t hurt...promise.)

I flipped the switch, lost it grand and that’s it. I wont be putting restrictions on myself here saying I wont draw ever or this fandom - that’s not how it works. But right now? Ill be happy if I manage to deliver work on a project I don’t want to fall out of. I tried the appeal of sharing work privately to friends or to no one at all. Engaging on discords and DMs - so freeing to talk about stories and stuff without tumblr police. I just cant do this anymore - posting out there steals my breath and it fucking hurts.

I hope you enjoyed all I did, it all came from heart - that’s all. I know Ill sweat all nervous posting this, but YAKOV COURAGE WOLF tells me so. Better than listening to voices telling me to go shit at Wendy's bar.

Thanks for everything.

[meitanreax]

day 2

hello!!!

here is my challenge for today >:) here are the most interesting things/funny things that i saw today!!

ok this first one is me bc the lighting was nice hAHAHAHFSLKDFJLSKFJ and i am very interesting (: to u (: LOOOLLL but yeah i thot the lighting was nice HAHA and my skin is nice thanks birth control!!!! 

ok this is. the 2nd one/..so i was just in the mall and i see this and im like kJFDLSKJLXCKVJLJ imagine a family wearing this? IM JFDSLKF i just like specifically how the shirt says fucking KIDDIE....LOOOOLL yah but watch white people wear this. omg i just realized they all have matching bottoms too im going INSANE LOL

3rd thing. OK! like i said!! my cousin plays shooting games...really funny tho!! lOL i did not expect that!!! at least she is a gamer and she draws anime chibis so im like wow. lOOOL #relatable #measakid #wow! she knows what league of legends is so i guess!!! she is a real gamer (but she doesnt know csgo or overwatch, but she is a huge COD fan LOL ???)

4th. i got gongcha and i dont know why this random dude is on the cup LOOOL isnt it most boba places like the cups are clear and stuff?? IDK LOOL philippines gives out like these paper cups and STRAWS TOO OMG..the straw was made out of paper and it got SUPER like...soggy after 2 minutes god please help me LOL

5th!!! this is the view from my hotel room ;_; i dont wanna leave this hotel cuz its so nice and i have my own space away from my actual botch mom...omfg...we hate to see it!!! but its super nice and close to this popular mall (whcih is ok, i am indifferent it is just big) LOL but yah!!! its super pretty sigh TwT lets get a hotel room together sometime again!!!

- - -

ok! for today, i woke up at like...4 am then 5 am...cuz of jet lag. (it really be like that) and then i just lied in bed pretending to be asleep(actually on my phone) so my parents wouldnt bug me!!! today i found out that there are actually lil bugs on strawberries..if u dont wash it thoroughly...scary...i am no longer buying my own fruit and chopping it up HAHA

so like i got up and got ready for the day around like 7 am!! my parents left to go to the gym at 6 and i was like wtf LOL they r probably eating breakfast w/o me..and I WAS RIGHT DUDE I TEXTED THEM and they were like yah come down?? and i got lowkey annoyed like BRO!! why u drag me out here and say u wanna spend ‘famIly tiME’ and then continue to do shit like this LOL but it’s ok!! so the breakfast buffet i went to was super fancy!! here are the photos below

they had filipino breakfast, and then chinese food too o.0 like dimsum! and the lil soup dumplings!! they also had sushi..which was weird!! LOL but it was brunch i guess but at 7 am...LOOOL i had a green smoothie (LMFAO but it was like...not thick consistency it was more like pressed juicery and p like nice consistency! it was mango, spinach, and ginger so it tasted nice!!)

i had fried fish and bacon and then breakfast meat thingy for breakfast!!! and i had a sugar donut!! also i had this filipino dessert that uses like almond jelly/soy jelly, syrup, and boba ^__^ it’s called taho!! 

it looks like this! O: i think u would like it hehe

anyways yah my parents kept asking me about my friends/you back at ucla and i was getting rlly uncomfortable cuz they were being oddly nosy....idk how but i ended up talking about how im close to jess lee and my mom told me i should become an influencer to get free shit ~_~ so im like dO U WANT ME TO BE A DOCTOR OR A INFLUENCER LOL which is it!! bro !! so annoying!!!

anyways we just chilled at the hotel room and my young cousin came over n stuff!! my mom left with my aunt to go get her plastic surgery or sumn idk and then me and my younger cousin and dad went to the mall!! that’s where we got potato corner and gongcha LOL

my younger cousin was shy and quiet at first but she opened up once i asked her about video games and she was more comfortable!! when we got back my dad just took a nap but me and my younger cousin (ez) decided to watch horror game let’s plays. she actually like knows some of the horror games i know cuz of horror lp’ers LLOOOL 

we watched one called the doll shop?? it was creepy it was like this japanese dude who worked at a doll shop, and he has a doll stored in the back of his private room that’s his ‘favorite doll’ and like literally throughout the game theres posters of a missing girl and then turns out the guy is hallucinating/mentally ill and the favorite doll in his room is like this dressed up corpse of the missing girl im KJDLFKJF I CALLED IT. DUDE LOL i was like yo that guy is fucked up!!!!! i bet he is hiding something!!!

we watched another one called ao oni KFJDLSKFJ its some funny pixel rpg horror chase game and idk it’s funny ill show u HAHAHA it’s dumb bc the monster looks dumb it’s like... SOME BIG ASS PURPLE CHIBI DUDE LOOOL

and then my mom came back whatever and went to bed...cuz my dad wants to leave at fuckign 1230 am for the next place we’re going to...im deceased cuz like i will literally have to nap for 3 hours then sleep another 3-4 hours on the way there and im pISSED CANT WE JUST DEAL WITH THE TRAFFIC LOL i dont want to leave at fcking 1230 am!!! what the heck!!

but yes!! im getting jollibee with my dad and im prolly gunna pack and then get ready for bed ^__^ but that’s my night for today!! ill update you more as it goes along :3 

OH ALSO our commissioner says she will give us our lineart for the chibis so ill send that to u later hehe!!!

OK i wanna try giving u a challenge too!! so ur challenge: take the prettiest photo of the sky/view tomorrow on ur hotair balloon!! and tell me if it’s like up!!! plus points if u edit pupy in it LOOOL & also add more songs to the playlist!!

okie!! that’s all for now!! ill update you more tomorrow! hopefully we’ll be able to call tomorrow night or the following morning ;w; its gonna be hard cuz im gonna be out most of the day/on the road but ill try my best!!!

i love you so much bebu!! thanks so much for putting this effort into making it work ;_; it’s a lot more bearable with ur contributions!! u make me so happy !! i am happy pupy too hehe i love you and miss you sososososo much!!! 12 more days at this rate <3 _ <3 i love you! so much, forever, more than anything, with all my heart!! 

[pensurfing]

Caitlin’s Three Things List

Okay, so moments (probably hours by the time I finish this) ago I wrote a goals list that I think is good for self-evaluation. (Keyword: This is what I think. results may vary depending on what you’re looking for.)

I’m going to hop to it and answer some of these that I laid out in hopes of having a better idea of what I want to accomplish. 

The Three Things Lists!

1) Three things that went well this year.

* Audience growth

So once upon a time, I grew a pretty decent following due to creating an Inktober Prompt list. My expectations: Maybe two of my friends would do this, maybe. And then one stranger that has followed me for a while. (There are a few followers I recognize their username because if I post something they always like it and for some reason that keeps me going.)

But because of this prompt, I was exposed to MANY new creators and illustrators that I now enjoy chatting with and following! Instagram had the biggest maintained growth. I’m excited to create for an audience that actually expects me to create and not just for friends who see my things “whenever they aren’t busy”. (Not to bash them or anything, just there are a lot where unless I tell them, they don’t see the posts I make.)

Another surge of growth in my audience was due to tabling at conventions this year. I was terrified to show my work let alone attempt to sell it to someone. Tabling at cons not only boosted my confidence but also quieted one of my ever going demons. “YoU sUcK aT dRaWiNg CaItLiN.” “How do you have a degree? oh right, you just barely passed.” I can’t say this is the case, there is an audience that genuinely enjoys my scribbles. So I am forever thankful to Atlanta Comic Con for giving me that chance. It honestly opened a few doors for me.

**Process

I’ve gotten more comfortable with showing my process. It can be messy, crisp, and illogical. But turns out the people who enjoy my content enjoy my scrambled thoughts. It’s something about not being alone in this sort of sense that calms the nerves.

So I can say with chest poked out that sharing process has gotten MUCH better. I can thank a self-help book I bought this year that was a FANTASTIC BUY. Austin Kleon has [two] (currently? If he has more then I’m buying it like people buy a name brand.) books that helped me see that it is GREAT to share not only the process but advice. “Show Your Work” is the book I’m talking about for now. Great tips, the outline is on the back of the book. So if you’re like me, I need to clearly see what I might be getting into, you might have a ball.

And finally, (not calling myself out on this but other) If you’re going to respond to people when they ask you “how do you___?” do not answer “Google it”. That is the rudest thing I’ve seen some of even my FAVORITE illustrators do; that response can burn in hell. PERIODT. (my one typo allowed.)

*** Art Style Exploration

For those who think college will help you establish an art style that you’ll enjoy or help nourish the one you currently have.... Let me save you over 80K.... No, the fuck it won’t.

That was the biggest thought I had going into art school. If anything, it confused me more and utterly destroyed what little confidence I had in my drawing style. After graduating, I had a huge swing from how I used to draw to how my art currently looks. I stopped trying to please the one professor who stood between me and my degree and started drawing to please my tastes. And guess what? That did something. And that something WORKED. I love what I draw now; I see why I chose this as my career path. I’m genuinely happy with how my pieces turn out versus in college just wanting to turn the damn thing in and hoping it isn’t an F.

2) Three things you could have handled better.

* The loss of a good paying client.

Now hear me out when I say this: A good paying client DOES NOT EQUAL a good client. Say that three times and then exhale.

Back earlier this year, I had the opportunity to work with a writer who gave me hell and back. And even that is an understatement. I dealt with her because in school you were taught “if they pay on time, finish the work and get the exposure.” 

I’m here to tell you my lesson learned: A good paying client DOES NOT EQUAL good exposure, good pay, a good client. 

I was doing the work of three for the price of one and a half. (And was always told I charged too much.) She tried abusing this power with friends of mine, with other illustrators. When things turned out bad, she tried saying it was my fault. She read my contract and then tried telling me I changed the wording, I purposely did this thing, another thing was my fault. I could go on with this story.

The part that I wish I handled better?

How I treated myself afterward. I’m so used to people telling me, “Cait, this is what you do wrong. This is how you fix it.” that I don’t consider my own feelings, and when I bring my feelings into the scenario they no longer matter. Because they tell me they don’t matter. In this case, I wish I had treated me better, because my feelings, my mental health, DOES matter.

**My Patience Getting Into Conventions.

Pretty self-explanatory. I got into one, finished one, and wanted to do eight more in a week. But this sort of thing just takes time and I need to accept that.

***My losses

I had to listen to a Little Mix song to actually learn this one. The context of the song is nowhere near the topic at hand. But a verse from Power feat Stomzy really packs a punch after this year: 

“ You look him in the eye and say, "I know I'm not a guy But see there's power in my losses and there's power in my wins" “

I had to look one of my demons in the face, and state something similar. My loses mean I’m trying. My loses piling shows I’m not willing to give up easily, and that is something that took a while to be content with.

3) Three things artistically you want to improve on.

*Composition

It’s not awful, but it can be better.

**Color

I told this BOLDLY if I might add while critiquing someone else’s portfolio; “Your color palette is boring. All your [things] look as if they are from the same universe, during the same time of day, with the same kind of mood. After three photos it’s bland, boring, and understood you have a preference.” 

Can you say damn Cait? The statement was, in fact, true, but I certainly could not talk. My color palette is mainly bright, pop, and happy. In order to tell a story, I KNOW it is best told with color. And I failed myself this year. But I sure won’t next year.

***My Damn Tag

Okay, alright. Why is it well-established artists have their tag figured out? Even some who’s art style is so recognizable (I’m looking HEAVILY at you Gabriel Piccolo.) we know it’s theirs, seem to have a tag that suits them and works for them. But more importantly, they put it in A VERY DECENT SPOT. SOMEONE SHARE THIS SCIENCE WITH ME? CAUSE APPARENTLY I DON’T GET IT.

4) Three things you want to focus on trying.

*More backgrounds.

As much as it pains me, I need to improve on backgrounds and perspective. When I do make backgrounds, I’m told I make great pieces. That I should look into becoming a background artist. And don’t get me wrong, I like them. But I don’t like them.

I feel as though I need to improve in that region so that way I don’t feel as though it’s a weakness of mine. My backgrounds are nice, but they aren’t nice to my standards.

**More designs

I love character designs, but let’s be real. If you were to scroll down my site or my Instagram page, or even this Tumblr archive, could you tell? 

I draw characters a lot sure, but none are designs. No process, no sheets, no turnarounds, none of that. So that’s a huge goal of mine for 2019.

***Scheduling posting

At one point I was pretty good at this. Live stream in Instagram and Twitter, cool. Videos on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Cool. Everywhere gets a photo, everywhere gets a silly one-liner. Yay. I’m not leaving anything out.

Well by the end of this year that totally crumbled. 

SO I want to try getting better at that thing there. Because having attempted this at the end of the year was cool, but it still wasn’t enough apparently.

5) Three positive things to tell yourself.

* You are an inspiration. That’s all you wanted to be in life, you did it. I’m proud of you.

**You didn’t kill yourself like you tried to; you opened up about it for once and used that pint up anger creatively. That is very hard to do, trust. I’m proud of you.

***You moved on, matured, and let it go. Even when the goddess inside you told you these peasants didn’t deserve your light, your friendship, your greatness. I’m proud of you.

I’m just proud of me for not snapping when I had every right to; not everything deserves a reaction.

6) Three negative things you want to leave for 2018.

*Comparisons 

Oh boy. I am extremely guilty for this: I’ll compare myself to a well-known illustrator my age. I’ll compare myself to friends who are in the field having a blast and getting work; I’ll compare myself to friends who aren’t in the field and they struggle at getting work. I’ll compare myself to the kid I graduated high school with who is traveling the world, is able to eat, come home to his dog and relax because he doesn’t have tuition to pay. I’ll compare myself to these goddamn baby boomers who keep repeating “We didn’t have it hard, you’re just being stupid. Millennials aka our children deserve to starve. We’ll just put our faith in our grandchildren because screw the kids we raised and refuse to pay accordingly. $7 an hour worked in my day, they need to make it work now.” I’ll compare myself to fake people I created in my head and purposely made scenarios and wonder why I’m not like them, said creations I made because I was pretty low for ten minutes...

I just compare myself too much. To any damn body. It’s draining, obnoxious and most of all pointless. My new motto for next year is: “Unless it is helping you grow yourself, your brand, your spirituality, don’t do it.”

I’m not comparing my chapter two to someone’s chapter thirty-five. I’m not even comparing my chapter two to someone else’s chapter two. I need to stop doing that PERIOD! My journey is different, unique, and worth seeing through.

**Listening to negative others.

A couple of years ago, I lost a close friend around the time my aunt passed away. During this time I was hypersensitive to any and everything done or said; I also kept many walls up to hide my mourning. He caught the crossfire of all of that. I kept secrets from him I was too prideful of admitting and lashed out because of the emotional turmoil I kept suppressed. While in the midst of packing his things and leaving my life, he mentioned that I was a failure because I was unemployed and artistically speaking I hadn’t accomplished anything; that I would remain that way because that’s just the person I deserved to be. Now mind you, I graduated college that year; he was a flunk out. I changed my art style dramatically compared to when I started school to pass; he thought just posting crappy pictures of lukewarm sketches were equivalent. I started attempting trends and all he could do was copy. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t to bash my old friend. If he were to come back into my life and move on like nothing had happened I’d do the same. (With some limitations.)

It’s just while typing out this scenario, of our four-year friendship I can’t think of one nice thing/compliment/gesture he has said to me. That’s my problem.

I can be praised, admired, and look highly upon for years straight. But my problem is I let others negative thinking and comments marinate with me for a long while. Too long of a while.

Another example is my mother’s friend. (My mom has many friends that do this shit, but this one stung more.) 

This friend always roots for me; treats me like a person, and encourages my artistic journey. I consider her family before my actual relatives. 

We went over for some barbeque the family was having and I was ready. Black Hallmark Cookouts, laughing, good food, good music, shit talking others teams. She asked me a harmless question of when was I going to quit my day job. Seemed like nothing at first, until the added gest of what she continued with. “All I’m saying is you can’t do [your day job] forever. That will get old. If the art thing doesn’t work out next year what’s plan b?”

I’m not a calm person (usually). Normal Caitlin would have cursed her out and mentioned how just because she chose a job to settle and be miserable at for most of her life doesn’t mean I have to follow suit. But again, of all the nice encouraging things she has done, said, and showed, for a while, I couldn’t think of it. 

So I pray I let go of this nasty behavior in 2018; it’s going to be hard but it is dire.

***Saying I’m Not Enough

Alright, now put the combination of the two above in a bowl and what do you get? A Caitlin who struggles in interviews and applying for jobs because I let comparisons and negative comments rule my thoughts. This stopped me from applying to jobs I would have been perfect for; internships that could have helped me; posting art online.

We (including me) have to stop thinking that in order to be an illustrator means we have to pass a certain threshold of struggle, success, and a huge number of followers. That isn’t the job description. NO JOB DESCRIPTION has ”must have at least 10K followers on Instagram or Twitter.” nOnE. 

So we (including me) need to stop treating ourselves this way. Period.

7) Three things you’re looking forward to in 2019.

*Going to move conventions.

**Adding pieces to my portfolio to try again at job hunting.

***Becoming content with the fact that my current situation isn’t my permanent situation. Unless I laze around and make it so.

Alright, so this was basically me calling myself out on my noise. Lashing out my demons and putting it in writing what I want to accomplish. I hope this inspires you to write yours, even if you keep it private. I hope it guides you and maintains your vision.

I’ll see you in 2019

A new wave

Caitlin xx

[nastyy3xclusivesclt-blog]

“Gallery walk” the @whateverJewel interview

Man, what can I say about Jewel? @whateverjewel is an independent artist that currently resides in the Washington, DC and attends Howard University. From the time I laid eyes on Jewel in 2015 in the pre-calculus class we shared, (if you are reading this FUCK YOU MS. VALENT) I knew she was someone special. Something about her draws people to her. With a smile that will brighten a room Jewel is nothing short of a superstar, and I have felt this way since before I even knew she was an artist. Her approach to art is simply amazing. She has built a grassroots following of people who genuinely enjoy seeing how her work progresses and what the final product will look like. The work she does isn't just dope as fuck, many of her pieces have some type of meaning or inspiration behind them. Not only does she draw and paint she also makes clothes. I'm currently in the process of grabbing me an exclusive one of a kind shirt from her myself. Jewel is definitely someone you should take an interest in, even if you aren't the artsy type, I'm sure you will find something you can connect with even in the slightest. Just get on twitter or Instagram and search #jewelsart. Here are a few of my personal favorite pieces by jewel…

Now lets get to the interview! 

First things first, Who are you?

“so! I'm me because well...i am. lmao my names jewel so what more can i really say???? honestly im really just a regular schmegular bitch who likes Netflix and eating and napping and drawing.

When and How did you get your start in making art?

i was always making art lol, my preschool and my first grade teachers told my mom i was going to be an artist so i really can't pinpoint how it started. it just did and it just is”

Who are some people who influenced your early work?

“my early work is, like i said, as early as preschool lol. so like my laterish work, more towards highschool, because i taught myself to really paint, like more seriously around that time...and my life honestly just sucked lol. so i pulled alottttt from that; id rather have my pain inspire me than hinder me”

Who are some mentors of yours?

“i had no real mentors (because honestly my life and my interactions with others inspire me most) until my senior year when i won a scholarship to have a personal visual arts mentor...and he was so great! he was all about showing me how to be myself and still grow as an artist and i loved that. now i have all these bomb ass professors for mentors and they teach inside and out of the studio and i love love love how much they let you build a personal relationship with them, especially bc all of my mark ass racist ass high school art teachers were awwwwwful. they didn't care about me or my visions and intentions. so fuck em ;)”

If you had to describe your art in 5 words or less how would you describe it?

“ok 5 words to describe my artttt: crazy, sexy, kewl, chillin, etc? naaaah deadass um, personal, expressive, colorful.....imma stick with sexy and kewl lmaooo’

What words of encouragement do you have for aspiring artists?

“for inspiring artists? literally nike shirt that hoe and just do it!!! dont fear anything, just dive in head first. the key to that is to delete any expectations you have for how your work should/shouldnt look because honestly that fucks you up. never compare your work to others, you are your only competition. be better than YOU!!!! and when its time to "decide what you want to do with your life" after graduation or whatever, art IS a legit thing to do with your life!!!! dont ever let a single person make you deny that“

What are you currently studying in school?

“im currently a painting major at Howard university and its funny because, like, when people found out i was going to Howard and moving to dc they were super lit for me...but when they would ask my major and i would tell them painting, its like they weren't as excited for me anymore. like my major wasn't good enough. but I'm the type of artist who knows what the painting will look like before ts done, and in that same right, i know ill be successful regardless of the process.”

How supportive was your family in your decision to pursue art?

“my fam is SUPER SUPPORTIVE!!! even though neither of my parents are artistic, they never ever ever made me feel like my art wasn't important or realistic. i have so much supplies from years of asking for bday and Christmas gifts and them understanding that art was just simply my thing. my parents both pushed me super hard in school and that gave me drive in an artistic sense as well....like I'm motivated so much because they're so poppin. i couldn't do it without them, and I'm the only child, so id like to think they couldn't do it without me either lmao“

I see you make clothing as well, tell me about The Naughty list. How did it start and who were some people that influenced you to make clothes?

“YO THE NAUGHTY LISSSST. funny you should ask. so i went to this panel on design at school, and the presenter basically was suggesting how doing "bad" things makes for a much more creative mind. its like theres more thinking and planning and plotting and scheming...and when those that exercise that same enegy channel it into creative activity, its soooooo much more powerful. and that intruigued me like crazy bc, trust me, im living proof. so i openned up this suggestion box and told people to confess their absolute WORST BEHAVIOR. and so i had it going for about two weeks, then i compiled the list and divided them all into two main categories of sin: lust and indulgence. the stories/confessions for each category that reeealllly stood out, i turned those into specific images. the ones that were left, i hand wrote them, and used them as the texture for the background”

When you sit down to a blank canvas where do you pull your inspiration from?

“when i sit down to a blank canvas, i dont pull inspiration from anywhere in that moment. im allllways getting inspired, literally once i draw the canvas sketch, im already inspired and ready as hell to go!!! i have this desktop folder and google drive folder and album on my phone titled "inspo" so whenever i see anything remotely interesting, i save it so im sure not to forget....bc im usually pretty in my own world and get kinda forgetful lmao”

What can people expect from you this year?

“this year? who knows lmao. expect new clothes and art for purchase...but thats all i got for ya for now ;)”

Quotes you live by…

“quote to live by???? shit my senior quote is always my mood: "i take a whackin and keep on smackin" -cheetah girls, 2003

Any shoutouts...

“shoutout to every person i ever met, yall all made me. i made yall too. thats the crazy thing about life, ya know? shoutout to every single person who ever commented something positive on insta, retweeted me, or hmu with something supportive...i hear it all, i feel it all, and i appreciate it all!! i dont really wanna shoutout anyone individually bc id prob leave so many great (and not so great) people out, but i have to give an ultimate shoutout to asante parkins...i would not be who i am without his presence, and im forever different since hes gone away. love him (but love yall too ya feel me)”

[nakedfullmonty-fr]

by the way when i say temahae isnt in ogygia anymore i dont mean shes like Gone. and not in more lore any more

im not 100% on where i want her story going but im working on it bcos i love her very much (been working on a design for her so ill probbaly draw her soon too)

for now the basics of her lore is that shes a magical prodigy. the way i have my lore all mis-match means that basically people can have 2 kinds of magic, a major and a minor. ones magic major is their flight magic that theyre naturally predisposed to, but with study and training its possible for a dragon to gain a magic minor, which is just the magic of another flight. an example of this would be one of my other dragons, locket, whos major magic is ice bcos hes an ice dragon, but is minor magic is arcane bcos thats what he studies (he actually puts more study into his arcane magic more than his ice magic but thats a story for another day)

of course, being a magical prodigy means that tem isnt confined to the natural magical limits of two-magics like most dragons. theoretically she could learn all 11 elemental magics and possibly beastclan magic (which i headcanon is different from dragon magic). it would take her almost a lifetime of travel, study and training to do so but theorically she could do it. this journey is how she came upon ogygia to begin with, and her magical prowess is what allowed her to survive travelling alone from a very young age

she laments staying so long with her found family on ogygia studying water magic as she originally intended to spread her years within each flight more evenly to achieve her goal of studying all magics (her major magic is ice, and shes proficient in water magic from living in ogygia, and knows a little wind magic from when she passed through on her way over, and a little light magic as ogygias culture is mixed with light culture)

she follows @astrotheology / @astrotheology-fr ‘s ice lore in that while only ice dragons were granted eternal souls (and the first progens immortality), she also knows that progenitors are heavily infused with their god’s magic and their own element, and thus while not entirely immortal, they are very difficult to kill. knowing that both her adoptive parents yastrebok and niet are progentiors, she chose to leave her home and her siblings behind and migrate north once the civil war broke out

to most who ask she’ll say its because she didnt want to stay and watch her home and her family rip each other to pieces until theres nothing left because her parents wont die, but there is a deeper reason thats a secret.

tem is the only person niet has ever confided to about the shade’s curse, since they have a very close kinda mom-daughter relationship. niet doesnt expect anything from her once she tells her, but asks her to keep it a secret from everyone else, not wanting to force the bleak outlook of “ogygia will be in torment forever until it is destroyed and niet dies” upon the citizens of their home.

temahae, however, seeing herself as the responsible older sister type, and also being a bit arrogant, decides to re-take up her journey across sornieth to study magic, to better herself but also because she believes that if theres anyone who can find a way to dispel a shade curse, its her.

so now she currently resides on the edge of nature territory, seeing nature as the next logical step in her magic as nature and water, while different magics, are connected naturally. she resides in the abandoned home of a shade-mancer, an area logically left untouched by most nearby clans. she studies the smaller shade creatures left nearby in the hopes of finding the solution to dispelling them, but theres a certain pressure to be quick about it so she can find the cure and get home before theres no home left to go to