#i feel like im about to lose all my reputation in this fandom

[cosmic-giraffe]

PLEASE make that post about reducing hasemura and hirojima down to just their ships im desperate to see people complain about this please i hate it so much

Ask anon, and you shall receive

First of all, I touched on this issue a few weeks ago, as you can read here, so I'll try and explain my thought process better! Secondly, this less of a complaint, and more of a study in fandom etiquette and the like.

I think people narrowing down the characters of Ken, Kazutoshi, Ojima and Hiroaki to their respective ships isn't an issue solely in the Tetro fandom, or Danganronpa as a whole. It's an issue in any media that includes queer ships, or ships in general (which is literally any media ever). As a gay person, I'll be speaking from my experience with this problem in fandom.

First of all, Hasemura. Both Ken and Kazutoshi are very interesting characters on their own, and their chemistry is undeniable. I'm a sucker for these two; for somebody as shy and socially awkward as Ken to befriend a brooding, jaded guy like Kazutoshi makes for some very fun and insightful interactions. Their contrasting lives and personalities are one of the draws for their dynamic. There was obviously something going on between the two of them, even if they never got the chance to vocalize or even understand the feelings they had. But this will-they-won't-they aspect of their dynamic isn't all that's to them.

Kazutoshi was a very depressed individual. He'd faced many hardships in his life, from losing his family at a young age to his myriad of health issues, to his mental illnesses resulting in multiple failed suicide attempts. But outside of his trauma, Kazutoshi was a very smart person. He was a forensic crime scene cleaner for God's sake, which definitely isn't an easy profession, mentally or physically. He wanted to study, he wanted to move past his hardships and flourish, he wanted to live. Just like everybody else in the killing game. But Kazutoshi was a total asshole, which I love. He didn't hold his tongue and kept people at arm's length out of fear of being hurt again.

Ken is the inverse of that. He has a supportive family, he has wealth, he has a support system in place. He might not be the loudest personality in the room, and he might stumble over his words more often than he can get a full sentence out, but Ken is a very kind and considerate individual.

For people to reduce all the intricacies and nuance of their characters and writing to their ship is doing them both a huge disservice. There's so much more to them than that. It's so much more interesting to view Kazutoshi and Ken's potential for a relationship as a small piece in the puzzle of their lives, instead of it being all-encompassing.

Going back to Kazutoshi, it is very sad to see the main takeaway from his death being "He never got to tell Ken that he loved him!" Which, yes, is undeniably tragic. In media, there's a sad trope called "Bury your gays", in which gay characters are killed off before they can ever have a happy ending.

I'm definitely not accusing Von of this, as Danganronpa has plenty of queer characters that die off (Chihiro, Mondo, Taka, Ibuki, Nagito, Tenko, etc.). But for people to look over all the missed opportunities Kazutoshi will never get the chance to experience because of his brutal death in favour of making his loss about Ken again is not the best look.

Now, onto Ojima and Hiroaki, because BOY do I have thoughts about these two, mainly Hiroaki (the little shit he is, I love him so much lmao).

These two suffer the same issue as Hasemura, that being all their characterization being boiled down to their shipping potential. Which isn't unsurprising, as they're two skinny pale twinks in an anime art style, which is like crack for teenage fujoshis lmao

But on a serious note, Ojima and Nakamigawa are more similar to each other than Ken and Kazutoshi are. Both have tense relationships with their families and their reputation, both have unresolved trauma, and both of them have an interest and career in the arts.

But that's where they differ. Ojima is an illustrator, and has a very intense crunchtime to navigate under in his profession. The stress of having to create art for countless projects definitely has its toll on him, but he still retains the passion that got him into this sector in the first place. Ojima doesn't have a bombastic personality, but he is stern when he needs to be, and is definitely one of the more mature students in the killing game. His bouts of disassociation are also an integral aspect of his character, and they are intermittent and uncomfortable.

And Hiroaki is one of the most annoying students ever and I love him. He's crass, pompous, has an irritating holier-than-thou attitude to anybody he deems to be beneath him, and can't take what he dishes out. He constantly picks fights and insults people, and then acts surprised when nobody wants to be around him. But underneath all that veneer of flashy designer clothes and bad boy image, Hiroaki is a very insecure boy that needs somebody to reel him in and let him know that being open, honest, and in touch with his feelings isn't at all a bad thing to be. He's shown his more sensitive side when he thinks Ojima is dissociating, when Tsuno was upset and she sought comfort from him out of all the other students in the school, and when he helped Hama and Wada grieve the loss of Isono, Chiba and Harada.

Hiroaki has the capability to grow and become a better person, and due to recent events, he is starting to do so. I hope he stays on this path and doesn't backtrack when things get tough.

Now, onto their dynamic. Ojima and Hiroaki obviously contrast and compliment each other well. This is all thanks to Von's writing. When Hiroaki shoots his mouth off, it's almost always Ojima that reels him in. When Ojima is in one of his lapses, it's usually Hiroaki who keeps him company by simply staying in the room, drawing, while he patiently waits for him to come back. They share dorm rooms to the point they're basically one room, they share clothes, they even share beds sometimes. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and that's why they're such a good pairing.

But what irks me is when people make their personalities completely revolve around the other. Hiroaki this, Ojima that, Hiroaki this, Ojima that. No mention of their interesting dynamics with other students, like how Ojima and Wada bonded over their respective histories with trauma, nor how Hiroaki and Tsuno confide their problems in each other so as to not burden anybody else with them (I'll take any opportunity to bring up Tsuno lmao).

And this is never more prevalent with Hiroaki's coming out scene.

It doesn't take a genius to know that being closeted is a very stressful time in a queer person's life. It's hiding a huge aspect of your life for fear of being judged by outsiders, or from being judged by yourself. That's why some people never come out of their closet, and are unable to accept and be their true selves. Which happens all too often.

Hiroaki's internalized homophobia kept him closeted for years of his life, which definitely wouldn't have helped his self-image issues. Being thrust into the public eye as the Ultimate Fashion Designer definitely wouldn't have helped, either, as now he had thousands of eyes on him. Due to this pressure, he played up his bad boy image by dating and sleeping with girls he had no attachment to, just to cover up for his own crippling insecurities and inability to accept himself.

When Hiroaki does come out of the closet for the very first time, when he finally accepts an aspect of his life he'd been repressing for years, he says it to Yanagi. Not Ojima. Yanagi. Yanagi, the guy who almost sold them all down the river during the first trial when he covered up for Sasaki (who they also both had very differing views on). Yanagi, the guy who beat the shit out of him and broke his nose, dislodged his tooth, and bruised up the face that he'd kept in immaculate condition for the public constantly watching his every move.

Out of all the people in the killing game, Hiroaki told Yanagi, and it was excellent writing for that to be the case. There was no judgement, no criticism, just acceptance, which is what Hiroaki has been seeking his entire life. But was forced to wear a costume that wasn't really him, just to avoid the pain of rejection or judgement.

And for some people to take this monumental step in Hiroaki's journey of self-acceptance and make it all about Ojima is INSANELY insulting. It's obvious that Hiroaki has feelings for Ojima, which definitely added to the mounting pressure of him being closeted, but in that moment, it was about Hiroaki and loving himself.

Now, in summary, I'm not saying shippers can't ship Hasemura or Hirojima. Quite the opposite. Be unapologetically gay!! But also keep in mind the harm they're doing when they reduce the participants down to their attraction to the other, as it is a disservice to Tetro's excellent character writing, and also perpetuates the issue that has been prevalent in fandom spaces for way too long now.

This was a very long post and I didn't realize just how much I had to say about this subject, but here we are!! Tetro has definitely wormed its way into my heart, and its characters are constantly rotating in my brain like a microwave lmaooo

[sermessmer]

so this all happened when me and @highway-stars were chatting in a server together and.

if you want more context you can check the lushaposting tag. click below the cut for the final product. and they say cringe cant be an art form.

[bunnyshideawayy]

a rumored bastard and a proven, disinherited, legally illegitimate recognized bastard are not the same.

Rhaenyra’s sons are rumored bastards, i know the show has a lot of team green stans feeling bold but just as in the books, they are never legally considered bastards in the show either. they are speculated to be via their physical features and Laenor’s apparent sexuality, but since Laenor and the KING (btw Westeros is a absolute monarchy, meaning the king IS law) both claim all three boys as legitimate heirs, unless someone demands a medieval dna test, those kids are legally Laenor’s true sons.

this is apparently a very hard concept to understand for some, hell even Alicent in the show says something like “we can all tell” which fair point, but that is not proof enough. looks, accusations, and rumor are not the same as actual proof of adultery or bastardy.

someone i was having a “discussion” with used Joffrey as an example to point out a flaw in my logic, but ultimately proved my point. Joffrey was a rumored bastard. Ned himself had no more proof than Alicent does, just hair color and a hunch, so Joffrey was never legally disinherited from the line of succession. I hate to defend either of these men but King Robert never publicly disowned him and called him bastard, which is why Joffrey ascended to the Iron Throne. now the rumors did hurt, and caused huge political issues leading to the War of 5 Kings, which is exactly why Alicent and Team Green is so insistent that Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate, they know they cannot legally or physically prove her children are bastards, especially when Laenor and the King are claiming them are true born, but they can spread the rumor and call into question Rhaenyra’s honesty and morality. think episode 8 when team green takes their chance with Vaemond to attempt a coup of sorts for the Driftmark Throne, why would the succession of Driftmark need to be settled if Rhaenyra’s sons are true born? why would Alicent / Otto need to make this decision in place of the sick king and mia lord of tides who both had already been stating Luke would inherit for years. it’s all apart of the scheme to tarnish Rhaenyra’s reputation as Vaemond has no other proof either, and promptly loses his head (both metaphorically and literally) by calling the recognized heir to the throne a whore and her children bastards with no proof in front of the whole court.

it is a political scheme on both sides, Alicent cannot prove anything, and Rhaenyra cannot disprove the rumors no matter how many times they are claimed as true born sons. Rhaenyra has to live in the comfort the law gives her, as legally her sons are seen as legitimate, and thus legally they are protected. and from an unbiased pov with both in universe and historical references, those kids might be bastards in actually but not legally.

Rhaenyra goes through hell to keep her children legally protected, not only for their sake but for hers because should the truth come out both her and Laenor would be seriously punished, i wouldn’t go as far as executed but that would depend on if Viserys was old and bed ridden or dead. which is why im making this incredibly long post repeating myself in every point. you can argue all day about Rhaenyra’s children and their parentage but i am making this to make it clear that her children are not *legally* bastards by Westeros law. in order for Jace, Luke, and Joffrey to be illegitimate bastards Laenor, Rhaenyra, Harwin, and/or Viserys would have to publicly acknowledge them as such and disinherit them. no, Laenor and Viserys dying do not magically make Rhaenyra’s children legal bastards either. they would, again, need to be claimed and proven as such and disinherited.

and at the end of it all, true or not true, the rumors made a lasting impact on the story. so much so this fandom is still debating this topic, and frankly i am dreading the season 2 release when all the bad takes and bad faith arguments start up again.

anyway other famous rumored bastards are in Targ history are:

Maegor

Daeron II

[geneticcatalyst]

as promised, an exploration of my one pet problem in fandom, or: misinterpretation of jby's first death (ft. zzs)

heres the thing. i occasionally see people reference what seems to be a misconception of the (english translation) text in qi ye. both the fact that its a translation and the metaphorical phrasing make it pretty clear to see why they got the wrong idea, but i firmly believe its still the wrong idea. i am by no means calling the people who got this mixed up dumb or bad, i am simply leaning over their shoulders going 'wait no bestie pls read that again pls read that one more time!!' because this is one of my favorite books and this thing is a key piece of one of my favorite things about it.

i said i was gonna pull screenshots for this post but i think it will be a little while before i get to another reread and i can't ctrl+f the google doc so im just gonna whip this out from memory. if anyone does have this particular passage on hand feel free to pop it in here. the rest of the context/explanations are just from my cursory research, im not chinese or a historian.

cards on the table. the only thing i love more than unhinged gay romances is unhinged platonic soul mates. its catnip to me. i go feral every goddamn time. and i havent stopped losing my mind about zhou zishu and jing beiyuan since that first qi ye scene. what do those guys have going on? not even sure they know but it's A Lot. ive got like 18 other unpublished drafts trying to work that out slash losing my fucking mind at the lengths they go to about each other. that relationship is at the center of both novels even if the spotlight isnt on it. so I admit that my readings are colored a bit by how much i like that they like each other!

which is why im shocked baffled and, ok, lightly salted, to see a few people make the claim that zishu (personally) tortured/killed beiyuan in his first life.

so what the text says is that after helian yi stopped trusting beiyuan (after su qingluan's accidental death), he was basically put to death. but even the emperor has to have a half decent reason to execute someone. the text describes these reasons- ten of them- as zhou zishu's masterpieces. it also refers to them as great shames to beiyuan's standing. what's happening is that helian yi has zishu frame beiyuan for treason or other betrayals against the emperor/the country. it isn't specific as to what, but it doesn't really matter, because its all fake and zishu is really good at his job. so yes, it is fair to say that zishu is the INSTRUMENT of beiyuan's death, but he didn't kill him, he just laid the groundwork.

the text goes on to another slightly confusing line where it says something to the effect of that when each of these accusations were read out in court, each line drew blood from jing beiyuan. that's a metaphor! it's just saying that his reputation was torn apart and ultimately his fate is sealed, despite the phrasing there are no literal injuries happening.

also, i may not have the timeline perfect on this part, but in zishu's introduction in the beginning of the novel, the narration tells us outright that while zishu is partially responsible for beiyuan's death, he was like. cool about it. in what seems to be the first and only time he ever steps out of line or goes against helian yi's command (!), after setting all this up but- if im remembering right- before the news actually breaks in court the next day, zishu warns beiyuan. now this admittedly doesnt do a whole lot because the only other possible option (cut and run) isn't a very good one, but it's the only thing zishu can do. he doesnt have to, but he does it anyway (!). of course beiyuan doesnt even consider doing this, he's stubborn and heartbroken, but he really seems to 1. appreciate the risk zishu took here to try to give him a chance and 2. not hold the whole set up against zishu or take that bit personally.

so what actually happened at the end of beiyuan's first life? he was sent the 3 zhang of white silk. the text does explicitly say this once, but if you're not familiar with the practice it may not click. receiving the white silk from the emperor is what happens when you're too high ranking to execute like a commoner but you've fallen from grace and are being politely asked to hang yourself in order to clear your name. and of course beiyuan, stubborn and heartbroken, does. yes, it's a forced suicide, but it isn't a murder.

anyway, its in that secret conversation, where zishu secretly meets with beiyuan seemingly to try to convince him to save himself and beiyuan outright refuses, that beiyuan promises that if theres a next life (ha), they'll get drunk together. and of course against all odds, there is and they do.

the thing about the idea that some people might think that zishu killed beiyuan is that after that nothing between them makes sense. even if it was at helian yi's request, i just cant see that not permanently damaging the friendship, i don't think beiyuan could immediately pick back up being best friends in the seventh life with that memory in the way. why would zishu go out of his way to warn beiyuan one day if he was perfectly capable and fine with killing him the next? why would beiyuan not only be happy to meet zishu again in the seventh life but also go out of his way trying to save zishu's? none of their other interactions really make sense if you believe there was a murder done there. idk. it clouds the whole throughline of the story which is that they have a bond!

i think maybe people think it is in character due to the other ruthless murders, and they're not wholly wrong, but that's the kicker for me. zishu will murder all kinds of innocents no questions asked, but he's suddenly trying to give an out to his coworker and drinking buddy? hello? thats insane, and that's the point.

furthermore, if you think maybe it would make sense for helian yi to have beiyuan violently killed (since it keeps fucking happening later), i actually have to become helian yi's lawyer for a moment here and say that that doesnt make sense either. helian yi is sitting on a throne gained by shadowy means but he's the Good Guy Ruler and that reputation is important. hes not a cruel person and he may have become paranoid but he still has a shared history with beiyuan. plus, even the emperor has to abide by a certain amount of decorum when he wants to have people killed, especially when that person is also a high ranking member of court. beiyuan's status is basically second only to the royal bloodline, he's essentially the prev emperor's godson, as well as a previously close confidante of helian yi himself. the white silk was regarded as a privileged, dignified means of offing someone. helian yi is perfectly within social acceptability to do this to beiyuan with the pretext of beiyuan's disgrace. but it would be pushing the boundaries for the good and just emperor to suddenly have one of his top advisors and members of high nobility brutally killed like a common criminal. he could probably do it, but it would reflect on him and his reputation too. he could do it in secret, but would have to cover up the disappearance of a prominent court figure. it just makes sense to use the white silk as the neatest, most acceptable legal justice channel here. maintain emotional detachment, be polite, everybody's honor gets honored and such.

so that's the ted talk. theres even some beautiful fanart on here of white-haired first life beiyuan holding the white silk! he wasn't tortured or outright executed, and he chose to obey rather than escape or fight the false claims of treason even though his friend tried to give him the only out he could manage. to interpret things differently really skews the character motivations and plot for everyone- beiyuan, zishu, helian yi- in a way that warps the story out of believability, imho.

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

real! I used to love her (ts) but she feels very different than she used to. I’ve listened to phoebe bridgers a bit, she was good just not the type of music I usually listen to. Boy genius and Lucy Dacus are both amazing tho. They for sure deserved to win Aoty, or sia

sorry for how long this got??? i just started writing and oh whoops....

anyway- THATS what ive been saying about her unfortunately. its like after folklore/evermore things genuinely changed because of all the fame and popularity. people werent criticizing her anymore and instead overly praising her.

which isnt bad! i do think she deserves praise over folklore. the marketing of it being a suprise album was very clever too. but i think before those folklore there was a sense of criticism that people had with her music that kept her wanting to innovate it.

i have a strong believe that social media's algorithms are failing artists to innovate pop music in the same way than 00's pop music did just because of how much less artists have to lose now with their brandings. i once again bring up artpop by lady gaga and how much she lost for her idea???? and now??? gaga was really fucking killing it. her music had such creativity and passion put into it that you can SEE her drive in that. (also to know i didnt understand artpop as an album until MUCH later in my life)

but taylors lack of needing to innovate her sound due to her popularity and lack of criticism really has just shown how much her music has come to decline in quality. if you see the transition between fearless and speak now. those two albums. she TOOK the criticism that she "couldnt write her own songs" and literally flipped that narrative to write that entire album herself. and to me? arguably speak now is MY favorite taylor album.

and the transition between speak now to red to 1989 to reputation. theres SO much that happened in that sense of time. theres different sounds that make those albums what they are. 1989 was such a creative endeavor for her because it was her first step into pop music. i think was also her first time working with jack? now people say her decline on music is his fault as a producer but i dont believe his role had gotten bad until midnights. (i saw people discussing clairo's sling album because he produced it. but THEYRE WRONG. SLING IS GOOD AND HIS ERA OF BAD PRODUCING HAPPENED IN 2023(?) i forget when midnights came out ugh thats how many taylor albums we have gotten ffs)

but the breakaway and challenge 1989 gave really set up for reputation. she disappeared because of all the hate. and i think while I DONT SUPPORT that type of treatment because no one should go through that type of mental low... that really set her into a space to create more fluidly and with more passion?

lover- people will say was a flop.. and ill admit too... cruel summer?? shouldve never ever became a single. it was better as a hidden gem. but lover was good for the majority of songs!! there's still passion in it.

it was just that after folklore/evermore it felt very.... underwhelming and not like her at all. the quality slipped so so off the page. it just feels very recycled and unnecessary. especially like i said the fandom doesnt help with overconsumtion and she really truly should use her platform for more. the economy being in shambles and yet she wants to charge $700 for a concert ticket. (nothing bad if like someone WANTS to go but its genuinely ridiculous because inflation shouldnt BE like that).

not to even cover merch??? why is it so high?? shouldnt you want it to be accessible to your fans since you have so many?? vinyl prices are ridiculous but WHY is a hoodie almost $100. im sorry but like why 😭. cant we just charge $60 again?????

anyway all that to say that after the evermore era her music genuinely slipped off. im just thankful that the speak now rerecord didnt get BOTCHED as high hell. i have opinions about the vault tracks because the entire reason was to include tracks from that era and yet its like your smearing shit onto a perfectly wonderful painting and saying "look yall!! i added to this!!" wrong. wrong wrong wrong. idk. 1989's vault tracks just made me mad. it felt so unlike the vibe of what 1989 was???? and slut was NOT written at the time of 1989. come on.

timeless though off of the rerecord for speak now.... i will defend that one with my honor. i genuinely am glad speak now's vault tracks didnt get horrible treatment. i like that she kept the solo writing with the entire album. adding on fob and hayley's collabs as a callback because i really remember seeing videos of her singing sugar were going down and thats what you get during the speak now tour. it just felt like a full circle moment for that. fob's collab couldve been better but im glad it wasnt like... bad.

stilllll think matty's collab couldve been iconic on slut. even if i hate 1989's vault tracks as a whole... the 1975 does have good music. I KNOW. controversial yeah. anyway. hes got talent tho.

i found phoebe during 2020 when i was listening to a bunchhh of different artists (the 1975 too yeah). but punisher found me and i used to not be able to sleep due to anxiety/insomnia back then and i would listen to that album for months to just SLEEP.

i have a closeee bond with it. its like my favorite if not a close second of my favorite album of all time. its just really interesting?? also really valid that its not your type of music either. i just hold her stuff close. also did a english assignment on smoke signals' lyrics. i remember that. i got to say "fuck the cops" in the assignment and felt very proud of myself LMAO.

in terms of lucy- i for some reason never have gotten around to listening to her stuff?? even though i know i need to and should?? i just always somehow forget. many people have told me to but oh man i forget.

glad we can agree that they deserved album of the year btw.

sorry for the LENGTHY reply but yeah!! i might be forgetting to talk about something but askinf about my special interests (music) will always give you a lengthy answer.

[hvly]

https://www.tumblr.com/hvly/768727622499893248/hot-take-ig-but-all-the-people-who-are-literally?source=share

I havent been into mha for YEARSSSS, like literally since s1, and fr. Even back then it was weird and now its even worse 😭 when mha finished i read the spoiler tags just to see how it ended and i deadass thought bakudeku was canon bc so many bc were twisting logic of what actually happened to make it seem canon like... nah im all for the gays and yays but some ppl are too fetishy with it

-idk what my anon name something something virginhalla i think lmao

yep. and i’m all for ships, all truth no bullshit. however, it feels a little strange when i see mainly white women and queers actively losing their shit about something that was never gonna happen. it’s super obvious (to me at least) that they’re reading the story with a weird bias/romanticized lense and not really engaging with what’s being portrayed to them. and then proceed to get upset and show their ass when their delusion proves to be just that. and also, let’s be real…if bakugo and deku we’re gonna end up together at the end, it would not be classified as a shonen manga and they all know that. mha fandom’s reputation will unfortunately always preceded them with people like that running rampant.

[charmspoint]

character ask game: go on boss, ramble about qifrey <3

Frappe you enable me too much hvjhvh the meme in question

favorite thing about them

Oh god what isn't my favorite thing about him. I really like how morally gray he is, what a complex person he is. Like i could legit see him as becoming a stumbling stone for Coco down the line and him having to choose between his own revenge and her is just really chefs kiss. I want him to be an obstacle she has to face. Also I like how he seems to be just a regular ass witch. Like this is maybe cuz I'm coming of from bnha with all might and jjk with gojo but it's nice that the mentor is not The Best Guy Ever but just like...here's Qifrey, he does water magic. Water magic isn't anything unusual, he's certently very skilled but doesn't seem to be any more so than any other witch, heck I'd say Olruggio is magically more impressive than him which you know makes sense cuz Olruggio is a creator by profession while Qifrey is a teacher. Like Qifrey WAS raised by the mage of education but that was purely coincidental and Qifrey doesn't really stick around the great hall or anywhere else other witches might be for us to see how that reputation might effect him. Also I love how he's such a fuckin hermit. You'd think he'd be the extrovert to Olruggio's introvert but it was his express idea to hole up in the middle of nowhere. He was like I'm builing my own House with my Husband and our Children and I'm not coming anywhere near another person again if I don't want to, what a king. This last part is an obvious exaggeration but it's fun to see just how much Qifrey is actually keeping away from others despite his :D!! nature.

least favorite thing about them

TALK TO YOUR FUCKING HUSBAND QIFREY. The fact that he sucks at communication so bad like SON BLS STOP TRYING TO DO EVERYTHING YOURSELF. This isn't a bad thing it's an important part of his character but I like everything about him this is just something that I like the least.

favorite line

"You want me to stay as professor Qifrey, is it? I'd also like that, if it were possible."

Just ;-; QIFREY he makes me so fuckin sad

brOTP

This man has no friends, he has one friend and he married him so he has no friends. Probably him and Alaira for the soul reason she's the only other witch he seems to talk to on friendly terms hjbjhhj.

OTP

Orufrey of course, married with kids uwu

nOTP

Uhhh with any of his students. Fortunately I didn't see any of that like I might have in another fandom but I heard...rumors...I hope I never see it.

random headcanon

Chronic mother hen disease, this isn't even a headcanon this is just canon, if this man sees a sad child he's pulling out adoption papers while Olruggio looks on tiredly in the background.

unpopular opinion

Idk if this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I hope Qifrey loses his eyesight. So much of his current arc is focused on his fear of losing it, on rushing to that deadline while he still feels he can do something. It's obvious that Qifrey thinks that once he loses his eyesight his life is over. He had already lost everything once and now he fears losing everything again which is why his actions are so rash. And so much of Coco's and Tartah's current arc is about how magic should be accessible to everyone so I really want Qifrey to lose his eyesight and then his family to help him realize he can still do magic without it, he can still be professor Qifrey without it. He hasn't lost his life just because he lost his eyes. Idk that's what I hope for his character.

song i associate with them

none jknjknj since i don't write for wha i usually don't think about it when im listening to songs

favorite picture of them

It's impossible to choose one so here's a compilation in no particular order

I love him a normal amount

[rai-knightshade-art]

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#also i know this isnt strictly anne with an e but i think the whole fandom will get a kick out of this particular joke so im tagging it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Y'all know that post about "what if there was a Smash style game but with public domain characters"? This Post? Yeah i had an idea for that 😂 Though my idea wasn't "Jay Gatsby with the steel chair!" (Although that is a very funny mental image), it was "Anne Shirley with the chalk slate!" And so this comic was born! Also i threw in Victor Frankenstein cause he deserves to get smashed over the head with a slate by an 11 year old actually, maybe it'll teach him some humility like it did Gilbert.

Also Marilla and Gilbert would be summonable characters with funny catchphrases, you know they would--Marilla with her "Fiddlesticks!" And Gilbert with an apple pun (as is his wont). Truly I'm sad this doesn't actually exist.

(close ups under the Read More! Image IDs are in the alt text)

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11 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

#4

I seem to be on a "fave media x 80's cult classic" kick right now (there'll be a Sailor Moon x Back to the Future post sometime in the future), so let's have my latest combo: the Young Jedi Knights Squad (Jaina, Jacen, Zekk, Tenel Ka, and Raynar) as The Breakfast Club! Aka a fanfic that i will never write and yet so desperately want to see written i already made Fanart for it. Go figure. Anyways have some iconic scenes from the movies!

Close Ups and a description of each of the "club" members below the cut, image IDs in the alt text!

The Players:

Zekk is, obviously, the "delinquent"; he's an orphan, he has to work and scrounge up his food and clothes, he pulls harebrained schemes for the adrenaline rush--he's a teacher's (specifically Brakiss's) worst nightmare. Of course, that's not all he is; he's got a key mind for mechanics and technology, helped by his scrap searching; he stays out at all hours because he doesn't like being home alone (his guardian Peckham, who he loves like family, is often away as a truck driver, and it gets lonely in their little house without him); he's kindhearted, and fiercely loyal, he just doesn't want to let anyone in out of fear of losing them, or that they won't like what they see....

Jaina is the "princess"; the only daughter of the Governor, she's been groomed to play nice and hang out with the other children of politicians and CEOs since she was just a little girl. Nowadays they form her primary group of friends, the most popular kids in school, looked up to--or down upon-- by their peers in equal measure. And... She kinda hates it. She stays with them only out of obligation, to make her mother's life easier, but she doesn't particularly care about any of them and doesn't even particularly enjoy their company; it's all drama and gossip and a revolving cacophony of dating and breaking up and bitter exes and rivalries and she is sick of it. She would much rather be spending her time at her dad's auto shop, getting her hands dirty tuning up engines and changing oil and bonding with Han. She can't tell anyone that tho, it would ruin her reputation...

Jacen is the "jock"; the twin brother of Jaina, he also feels a certain pressure to stay in with the popular crowd. He achieves this by being captain of the fencing team; it's no star quarterback position but it is still respectable among his peers. Fencing isn't his true passion, tho; he'd much rather be spending all his time at the local animal shelters, or assisting at the zoo. He's an animal lover through and through, but it's something he hides from his "friends" so that they don't have reason to shun him for being a "sissy." He knows there's nothing ignoble about his hobby, but they don't know that....

Tenel Ka is, for lack of a better term, the "weirdo"; she comes from somewhere called Dathomir, from a culture of fierce warrior women, and boy, does she act like it. She will readily duel anyone who looks at her wrong, she eats entire animal legs for lunch, and she never seems to show much emotion.... Ever. Add to that her missing arm (which no one knows the truth about btw, rumors fly about it being anything from a childhood accident to one of her duels gone wrong), and she cuts an intimidating figure that most students avoid. Is there more to her than that? Oh is there. Is there ever.

Raynar Thul is the final member of the crew; he's the "trust fund baby" that hangs out with a very specific clique that even Jaina and Jacen aren't a part of. He comes across as snobbish and standoffish, unwilling to dabble with anyone "lesser". This is a front, however; he projects this persona because it's what his parents expect from him, and he doesn't want word getting back to them about what he actually does: extensive volunteer work. Raynar has a drive to help people, and has been trying to use his privilege all through high school to do just that, by volunteering at food banks and for highway clean up, and donating as much of his allowance as physically possible where he can. In fact, it's how he met his girlfriend Lusa, but that's a whole other can of worms...

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11 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

#3

Young Jedi Knights!! Or, ok more accurately they're old enough to be New Jedi Order/Fate of the Jedi/etc etc era but I'm ignoring, like, all of that. So.

@lizartgurl you know that scene we low-key talked about? I drew it 😅 nothing like a good set of parallels in your star wars fan art!

And I'm also of the opinion that Zekk's dynamic with the twins when they were younger is basically 50% Off Makoto and Nagisa, so i present Zekk, explaining one of his many adventures to a pair of kids that i will explain below the cut because their story is... Complicated, and started literally a decade ago 😅

More details and closeups below the cut, image IDs in Alt Text as always!

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13 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

#2

Prompt: "This is me trying"

Pitch Perfect RarePair Week 2022, Day 1

Because we all know the REAL reason Jessica and Ashley didn't get much screentime in the movies was because they were busy being James Bond-esque super spies/secret agents and living out their very own Mrs. and Mrs. Smith AU. Speaking of, hey, Pitch Perfect fandom? I have seen ZERO Mrs. and Mrs. Smith AU's for these two yet and I am APPALLED. It's perfect for them! Secret hidden lives, confusion over names (because they've got so many cover identities it's hard to keep track who's who), JESSICA'S LAST NAME IS LITERALLY SMITH THIS FIC WRITES ITSELF.

*ahem*

Anyways, welcome to my first entry (EVER!!) for Pitch Perfect RarePair Week! I rewatched the first movie recently, hyperfixated, and came to the realization that, apparently, it's "oops all rarepairs and hot takes" for me 😅. This seemed like the perfect way to tentatively test the waters of truly joining in, ya know? And so, I offer this drawing as your prompt, oh fic writers of the fandom; if you want to write this AU, you've already got free fan art for it! And my undying devotion.

This is, of course, for Prompt #1, "this is me trying"; I'm sure this was intended to be an angsty, emotional turmoil between partners prompt, but I couldn't help but turn it on its head into a comedic exchange in the middle of a High Stakes Infiltrate-and-Extract job, ya know? YOU try cracking the safe then, Jessica, if you think it's so easy! 😂

Stay tuned for the rest of my RarePair Week posts, and of course check out everybody else's entries over on @pitchperfectrarepairweek as they come in! There's some seriously talented writers in this fandom! As for me, I've got a couple of different rarepairs I've been drawing for, plus (hopefully) one fic for Day 5 that also ties into Day 6 (and, technically speaking, Day 2, though it's not as obvious)... Provided I can, ya know, ever finish writing the damn thing 😅. Though I will warn y'all, Day 2's entry may or may not be late, as I only had the idea for it a couple days ago and I haven't had time yet to draw it 😅 we shall see how quickly I can get it put together!

Links to the other RarePair Week posts and a close up below the cut, Image ID is in the alt text!

Days I'm participating in (and the Entries I've posted):

Day 1 (This is me trying): You are Here!

Day 2 (I've missed you): Link

Day 5 (If honesty means telling the truth... Well then the truth is I'm still in love with you): Link

Day 6 (There's no way that it's not going to happen with you looking at me like that): Link

Close Up:

Day 7.1 (I can't say it, but I'll sing it): Link

Day 7.2 (part 2 of Day 2): Link

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15 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"Have I known you 20 seconds ....

......or 20 Years?"

(or: I couldn't find a satisfactory Anne of Green Gables bookmark so I made my own)

(image id in alt text, close ups/alt angles and artist thoughts under the cut)

(quote from Taylor Swift's "Lover")

So, I really wanted a bookmark featuring my all time favorite Anne quote, aka the "diamond sunbursts and marble halls" line. But I couldn't find a good bookmark that I liked that also featured that line, so I just decided, what the hey, I'll make one myself, and I can do it exactly the way I want to! And then I did 😂.

I wanted a double-sided bookmark so I could feature a scene from each of my two favorite adaptations of Anne, i.e. the Sullivan movies and Anne with an E. I knew the Sullivan side would have the main quote since said quote actually appeared in the movies, and from there it was an easy decision to pair it with the reunion scene from A Continuing Story, a) because that scene has lived rent free in my head since I was 10, and b) while the first kiss that came after the actual line was beautiful, the reunion scene brings a different, more desperate emotion to the quote that I really like. It's in the way they clutch at each other desperately, the way Gilbert's face is pressed into her shoulder so tightly you can see wrinkles in his skin appear, the way Anne runs her fingers through his hair, the whole scene just screams "all I've wanted for two straight years was just to hold you in my arms again" and I burn I pine I perish.

After that it was just a matter of figuring out the Anne with an E side. I decided pretty quickly that I wanted the bonfire scene, both to contrast the other side by splitting the image up and because that scene, almost more than the actual first kiss scene, really cemented Gilbert's love for Anne to me, you can see it in his eyes as he looks up at her, illuminated by fire, like he's looking at his own personal goddess. And with that idea came the decision to use his letter as the quote, albeit shortened cause homeboy was rather wordy in confessing his love (which I adore that's a whole other rant) so that I kept the main, emotional hooks.

Then, I surrounded each one with meaningful flowers (lilies of the valley for the og, queen Anne's lace for the newbies), splashed some watercolors across the backgrounds for some flavor, and that was that!

Btw these are both done on toned mixed-media paper, it's thick and it's almost a cross between card stock and cardboard. I designed the whole thing in pencil, inked it in black and white, then threw watercolor over the top before finishing with water soluble markers and retouches to the white gel ink where needed. I plan to laminate this for it's protection but these pictures were taken unlaminated.

Close ups:

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19 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[2handsslan]

I found myself while loving you

Summary: Draco Malfoy, Slytherin King, one of the meanest boys at Hogwarts finds he might not be who thinks he is after all 

Pairing: Draco X Hufflepuff reader

Word Count: 2153

A/N: Helllooo loves!! So this is my first time EVER writing a fic so please go easy on me. Im so nervous to post this, but I want to start writing and I have to start somewhere! and see if I’m even good at it!! Honestly I don’t know if any of my followers read HP fandom fics but if you do please check this out, tell me what you think! AHHH anyways I hope you like it

Growing up we typically believe our parents can do no wrong. We hold them above everything and everyone. We learn to turn a blind eye to the wrong they sometimes do, even go as far as justifying it. 

This is exactly what Draco did when it came to his father. Mr. Malfoy could do no wrong in the eyes of his little boy, even though all he did was wrong. 

The only thing Draco wanted to do in life was to make his father proud, to be the spitting image of the man. He spoke like him, walked like him, held his head as high as he did. This didn't go unnoticed by his father, but this was not a “proud dad moment” type of situation. Lucious Malfoy took this as an opportunity to shape Draco into everything he wanted him to be, for his own personal gain.  

Draco being in one of the most infamous death eater families meant a dark light was shed on him. Welcoming this with open arms Draco became the meanest student at Hogwarts, from the very moment he stepped onto the train the first day of first year. 

Going into his fifth year, nothing has changed. 

-

Draco sat with his gang of Slytherins in the Great Hall, back pressed to the table, his long legs crossed at the ankles stretched out in front of him, waiting for the newest first years to enter and get sorted into their houses. He threw his head back in laughter at a joke Blaise made. As his head was falling back into place, the smile on his face disappeared and his eyes widening. ‘That couldn't possibly be Y/N Y/L/N… absolutely couldn't be.’ He thought to himself as you walked into the room. You had not looked as you did last year. You had not been ugly by any means, just you, nothing special. You matured quite a lot over the short summer break, turning into a very beautiful young woman. 

And he had definitely noticed. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of you. In his shock, he leaned over and roughly shook Blaise by his shoulder, “Is that Y/N?” 

“What? Merlin it is, she sure did change this summer.” Blaise said adding a whistle. 

You were the true definition of a Hufflepuff, hard-working, patient, loyal, and one of the sweetest girls you would ever meet. Your Y/E/C eyes constantly shine with happiness, sending sweet smiles to everyone who walked by, no matter the scowls or disgusted looks they gave. 

You made your way past the Slytherin table, eyes falling on Draco and sending him a small grin, tucking your hair behind your ear in nervousness. He had never looked at you like that before. Only taking notice of you when he was giving you an odd scowl as you walked past him and his friends in the hallway during previous years with a smile permanently etched on your face. You on the other hand had always taken notice of the Slytherin King. It was quite an odd thing, the sweetest Hufflepuff finding herself swooning over the meanest boy in their year. But you couldn't help it, you were simply intrigued by him. Wondering what made him the way he was. Wondering what had to have happened to make him so cold to others.  And also wondering what kind of things made him smile, and how you wished you could do those things, wished you could make him smile. You sort of felt like a creep, due to the fact that you had never even really spoken to each other outside of being partnered with each other for a Transfiguration project last year. But you couldn't help the butterflies you felt whenever you saw him.

Something inside Draco changed that very moment. For the past two years he had noticed you, not a lot, but just enough to wonder about you from time to time. It was like he was seeing you for the very first time and he needed to know you, to know everything about you. 

Throughout the entire sorting ceremony he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, where he was seated he had a perfect view of your side profile. He took notice in the way your eyelashes curled up, the soft freckles that dusted over our nose and cheeks, the way your head was slightly tilted as you watched the students with interest as they were sorted. 

Simply breathtaking he thought. 

As the first few weeks passed, things did not change. Draco spent every chance he got looking at you, trying to come up with an excuse to speak with you. Once again you had Transfigurations together. “Today you will be working in pairs to vanish a group of mice.” instructed Professor Mcgonnagal, “You may choose who you partner up with, begin.” 

Before he even realized what he was doing Draco had jumped up from his chair and was standing over your desk saying “Would you like to be my partner?” 

He was sure he shared the same shocked expression on your face. Cheeks turning a light pink you agreed. 

Neither of you spoke much during the class, stealing quick glances at one another more than words. After successfully vanishing all of your mice in record time, you turned to him, “Well I can see you have very much improved since last year” a small teasing smirk playing on your lips. 

“I'd like to think so,” he said shyly. This had to have been a mistake you thought, Draco Malfoy shy? Around you? No way, not possible. 

As the thoughts were running through your head you heard him speak again, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? It's the first trip of the year.” 

It seemed you forgot how to speak, your mouth opened and then closed, your mind suddenly completely blank. 

“Nevermind, that was stupid, why would someone like you want to..” 

“I'd love to go with you” you practically yelled as you realized he was spiraling, probably thinking you would want to do anything but spend time with him. 

And then there it was, the smile that you rarely got to see, and you felt like your heart could burst. The bell rang and he stood up, “I'll meet you in front of the Great Hall after breakfast Saturday then,” he said, a smile still in full view. All you could do was nood, an expression of utter disbelief on your face. 

The rest of the week flew by and next thing you knew you were walking out of the doors of Hogwarts with Draco by your side. The two of you spent the day walking around the shops, and stopping for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. As much as you didn’t want to, you had always thought he had to be just as everyone said he was, mean. But you were completely wrong. As you got to know him more and more during your short time, you had a feeling there was a lot more to the boy. 

-

As the months past your time spent with Draco increased. Meeting in the corridors before and after classes, sneaking you to the Slytherin table during meals, and sneaking you into his dorm for late night cuddles every so often.

This was completely out of character for you by others standards but with him you had never felt more yourself. 

And Draco was feeling the exact same way. Slowly but surely his bad guy persona was fading, and people were starting to take notice. Word was getting around that he was becoming a different person. But he did not care anymore. 

“He has to be faking it, he has always been the nastiest boy to walk these halls.” 

“If his family could see him now they would not even recognize him..”

There was no way for him to not hear these things being said about him as he walked from class to class with you on his arm. And one day it finally hit him. They were right, he was not the same boy he had been the previous years, and he had you to thank for that. He realized now that this was him, this is how he was meant to be. 

He had spent his whole life before this trying to live up to his fathers attitude and beliefs that he had become something he wasn't. But he was done, he was done trying to please him, constantly miserable from never seeming to be able to. He was himself now.

-

Word about the way Draco changed so drastically had finally gotten to his father. And it could not have happened at a worse time. This Hogsmead trip he had asked his mother and father to meet him, wanting to introduce you to them. Surprisingly he was not at all nervous, just excited to finally have you meet his family, thinking they would love you just like everyone else did. 

The two of you sat in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop waiting for them to arrive. The door opened and Draco shot straight up, straightening his shirt and hair as his parents walked in. “Father, Mother, it's good to see you. You both look well.” he said. “As do you,” his father said simply. His mother sent him a small smile, from her position behind her husband. Sitting down Mr. Malfoy wasted no time speaking of the rumors he had been hearing about his son. “It has come to my attention that you have changed Draco, and not in a way I would categorize as acceptable.” “You've lost your mind if you think I am going to let you lose yourself,” he sent you a nasty side eyed look, “because of a silly girl.”

You felt Draco tense beside you and instinctively interlaced your fingers with his to try to calm him down. This did not faze you , you know the reputation his father had and did not fool yourself with the thought of him being overjoyed at his son's new attitude. 

Draco spoke as calmly as he could “The way I have been acting is certainly because of Y/N, in the sense that she has made me realize I do not want to be like my miserable father anymore.” He no longer cared if this was supposed to be a happy meeting, introducing his girl to his parents, no this was it, this was where he was going to break free of the hold his father had on him. This was where he was getting the stain of his family's name off of him. 

This seemed to shake his father to the core, realization hit him that he did not have control over his boy anymore, and he was now his own person. His mothers head was tilted down but Y/N could see the small smile on her face. She knew what Dracocould be, and she was proud he was becoming his own person. 

Without saying another word his father got up and stormed out of the shop, his mother throwing him a proud smile as she ran after his father. 

“Draco I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen,” You said sadly. 

Without saying anything he stood you up and pulled you into a kiss, breaking away to say “Let's get out of here,” with a smile on his face. 

You sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room late that night wrapped up in Draco’s arms. He was still reeling from the day's events, he had never felt more happy with himself. “I can't remember the last time I felt this good...” he spoke so softly you almost didn't hear him. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “I've spent as long as I can remember tied up in the idea that I needed to be just like my father to make him love me, but I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be who I am with you all the time, with everyone. It's much easier than being miserable all the time.” 

 You took his face in hands, your thumbs stroking his jawline, “I always knew there was more under that hard exterior, I'm happy I was able to help you let it out.” 

He dropped his forehead against yours, breathing deep, his lips landed on yours in the sweetest but most passionate kiss you had shared. It took your breath away and you were slightly panting as you broke apart. 

“The only love I ever wanted was from my father. But now, the only love I want is yours. An… and i love you more than i can tell you.” 

“And I love you just as much.”

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

You know, in the past I've decisively said that Amity's decision to stop being friends with Willow was a terrible choice and that she made it selfishly. That seems to be popular opinion within the fandom. But the more I think on the situation the less certain of that I really am.

I mean obviously we all know it wasn't entirely her fault. Amity was just pulled aside by her parents one day cause they don't like Willow. Don't approve of how close she's getting to Amity. "We have a reputation to uphold, good children don't squabble, go cut ties with her and try not to make a scene." they tell their FIVE YEAR OLD daughter. No matter what we can't entirely blame her, right?

If Amity had just instantly gone along with it then I would agree she shares part of the blame here. Can't hate her for it because, well, her parents made her. But if she had instantly agreed without putting up a fight there would be blame on her shoulders too for giving up without even trying and doing the selfish thing.

But god, that's NOT what she did. This little tiny three foot tall baby girl told her abusive parents hell no to their faces. Willow wad her best friend. She loves her. She doesnt care what her parents do or say to her, Willow means the world to Amity and she will refuse orders from her abusive parents in a heartbeat with no hesitation whatsoever because ending their friendship was NOT something Amity was willing to do.

I'm honestly to god still completely starstruck by the strength she exhibited at the age of five to tell her abusive parents no to their faces without caring what consequences she'd go through as a result. Amity DIDN'T decide to end their friendship selfishly the moment her own safety was on the line. Amity did it for Willow.

Her parents threatened the one thing Amity wasn't willing to sacrifice. Willow's future. "We'll make sure she's never allowed into Hexside." They threatened with all their social influence and political power, completely jeopardizing Willow's education and future. So Amity marched into the other room and told Willow without even flinching that they couldn't be friends anymore. Because Willow was weak and Amity didn't want to be friends with a weakling. Why do you think she ended things so harshly? Amity loved Willow. She was ending the friendship against her will. Why didn't Amity just say "my parents don't want us hanging out anymore, im so sorry.."? To ensure Willow never wanted anything to do with Amity ever again, surely. Making Willow hate her seemed like the only way to keep Willow safe, because we saw in Agony Of A Witch that Willow is absolutely willing to face serious consequences for the sake of her friends. Amity must have known Willow wouldn't accept it if Amity told the truth. Amity must have known Willow would keep trying to stay her friend. Amity must have known that if Willow fought the end of their friendship, Willow would continue to be in danger, which would ruin the whole point of what Amity was trying to do. The point of lying to Willow about why they couldn't be friends anymore was to make Willow hate her. It was to make sure Willow didn't try to keep being friends with her. And she did it to protect Willow. Weather or not this was really the right choice is neither here nor there. But her intention was never selfish in this situation and her choice was incredibly mature for a five year old.

Amity hurt Willow a lot but I literally cannot for a single moment be angry with her for it. She wasn't even in kindergarten yet for fucks sake and her parents forced Amity into this impossible situation where whatever she did hurt Willow. And in the end...Amity did what she thought she needed to do to protect Willow. It's common belief that Amity made the wrong decision because we know damn well it hurt Willow for Amity to discard her like that, but I don't think either choices were okay, it was a lose no mater what and honestly who are we to blame her for the decision she made? I think the one Amity picked was almost....the least selfish of the two.

I mean, really, I think id feel the same as Amity did. That it's better for my friends to achieve their goals and dreams and go to the best school to live a fulfilling life while hating me than to be thrown into subpar schools and held back in life while still being forcefully seperated from me and having to deal with that pain. Overall I feel like it would actually have been more painful for Willow to be pushed back in life while knowing Amity liked her but was forbidden from seeing her than it was for Willow to just...beleive that Amity was a bad person. Maybe they could have figured out a third option- in fact, lately Amity and Willow have been kinda getting along more...they aren't exactly friends, but it's a start, and Amity's parents are none the wiser. But they weren't even in kindergarten yet for fucks sake, and by the time they were older and more mature and maybe could have come up with something else, Amity had already made her choice nine years ago. So yeah, I don't think I can ever really blame Amity for what she did because she was, in a way, sacrificing her own happiness for Willow's. Amity's life sucks. Her parents are abusive. Her siblings are abusive. Her friends are abusive. She isn't particularly passionate about the life path she's going down. Willow was probably the only bright light in her life when she was little. But Amity knew Willow had a family who loved her and a bright future ahead of her. Amity knew Willow would make new friends and succeed and be happy without her. Amity was kinda losing everything good in her life when she lost Willow while Willow was only losing one measley friend. Logically Amity knew Willow could move on even if Amity did mean a lot to her. And emotionally...well Amity never thought she was worth much, you can thank her abusive family for that. Is there any question why Amity underestimated the impact the end of their friendship would have on Willow? Amity was willing to give up the one thing that made her happy and she did it for Willow's sake. So that Willow wouldnt lose everything. I have no doubt Willow wouldn't have agreed with this reasoning because Willow's the type who's willing to throw out her future for a friend, but how can I blame Amity for not wanting to let Willow make that choice? If I let my friend jeopardise my future for me I don't think id ever forgive myself. Can we blame Amity for feeling the same?

Overall I don't think for a second that anything in this situation was Amity's fault. Willow was a victim here and she has every right to feel hurt by Amity weather or not Amity was to blame. But I don't think WE have any room to hold the situation against Amity at all or call it a wrongdoing on her part. Amity was just as much a victim. She was a baby forced to make an impossible choice where either decision was going to tear both her and Willow's hearts out and the only villains here are Amity's parents for forcing this situation onto them in the first place. Amity and Willow were both victims. I feel like we should stop trying to put blame on Amity for it when she had every reason to believe the choice she made was the right one.

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 18

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,247

Warnings: Dildos, double penetration, blow jobs, fingering, orgasms.

A/N: My first entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt​. This fulfills may glory holes square.

Today, your little 8-month-old dumpling is with your parents so that you and Spencer can have a day off together. Very early on in your relationship, Spencer had approached you with the idea of glory holes. As in going somewhere that you could safely partake in such a thing. He had this idea of watching you, the depraved lengths you’d go to for him, as it was something he’d done with a previous sub nearly 10 years earlier.

When he first brought up the idea, you’d had an immediate reaction to it - your legs turning to jelly at the thought of sucking however many cocks Spencer wanted you to. Once the idea came up again, he said he had reservations (since he wasn’t great at sharing) but that you could play it by ear.

After considerable research and asking around in the BDSM circle, you settle on a place that has a good reputation. Very clean. Everyone’s very respectful about the dirty, disgusting things you do together, playing by the rules and indulging each other’s darker sides. Spencer opens the car door for you, hands a bit shaky, and you ride to the place in silence.

Although originally the idea excited you, and to a degree it still does, the practicality of it is something else. In reality, you’re pretty sure you don’t want any other man but Spencer; disappointing him is a possibility, and you don’t want that, but you refuse to push yourself beyond your limits either. Spencer wouldn’t want you to do that.  

Spencer pulls up to the place and parks the car, nervously exchanging a glance with you. Just as you go to speak, he does too.

“I’m not sure about this.”

“I don’t wanna do this.”

Both of you speak at the same time and you laugh. It actually makes you a little emotional. “I don’t wanna suck anyone’s cock other than yours,” you reply as you caress his cheek.

“In my head it sounds great, but I don’t want to see you do that either. I just...didn’t want to disappoint you. I remember you liking the idea.”

Relief floods over you. “The idea, yea. But thinking about it makes me a little-” You flutter your fingers in front of you a bit. “Eh, you know?”

“So no?” He asks hopefully.

“Yea, let’s go home.”

On the drive back, your nerves steady out. “Hey, Spence,” you start just as he opens the door to the apartment. “I think I have an idea. A good substitute for us.”

“Tell me.”

“Can I show you?”

His eyes blow wide with lust as he nods, following you to the bedroom where you dig into your chest of toys. Occasionally, before Spencer retired from the BAU, he’d have you use a dildo that you could stick onto the wall or the bathtub, and he’d watch you fuck yourself on it.

“What if we stick this to the wall, and you can fuck my throat and fuck me into it?”

Spencer swallows hard and dips down to bite your lip, quickly stripping you out of your clothing and pushing you down to the floor on your hands and knees. “Sounds like the perfect plan to me. Why haven’t we done that?”

He grasps your chin in his hand and tongues at your mouth before crawling behind you to affix the dildo to the wall in a comfortable position. Once he has it right, he pushes you back onto it, watching with rapt attention it pushes past your swollen lips. This idea was percolating in your mind the entire way home, so you were more than ready to go without any additional preparation.

The dildo sits snugly inside you and Spencer comes back up to kneel in front of you, pulling his cock free of his jeans, which he tugs down and lets fall around his knees. At first, he teases you, slapping his cock against your tongue. He’s heavy and full. When he bucks forward, allowing you little kitten licks to the head of his cock, you lurch forward, desperate to get your lips around him.

You love the way he laughs at your desperation. Continuing his torture, he finally gives in when it becomes too much for both of you. He cradles your head and guides his cock into your mouth. His tenderness combined with his sure hand drives you crazy. As you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock, you moan at the taste. He doesn’t taste like anything, but he tastes like Spencer.

Groaning around him, you push yourself back and forth and take as much of his cock as you can, immediately thrusting backward onto the dildo with equal force. Under hooded eyes, you can see a smile pulling at his lips as he watches you struggle. You want to have all of him and feel the fullness of the dildo, but moving back and forth only gives you one at a time. Oh the struggles of a needy submissive.

Towering over you, he shuffles forward on his knees and sends you back into the wall. “How’s that, love? Full pussy and a full mouth?”

In appreciation, you mumble around him and roll your tongue over and around his cock before he slides down your throat. With each pass of his cock, your pussy tightens around the plastic dildo, molding to each smooth, veiny inch. Spencer grunts above you, losing himself in the feel of your throat.

When he starts to pick up the pace, you gag around him. But you don’t fight it, you just allow the sound of it to pull you further into the trance he has you in.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move.”

Happily, you still yourself and let Spencer use you, the force of his thrusts impaling you on the instrument behind you.

“If I touched you right now, how wet would you be?” He asks with a teasing tone. He loves the fact that you can’t answer because your mouth is full. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re soaked. Because you’re a little slut that likes to have her holes filled.”

Eyes sparkling with fresh tears, you smile around him, groaning around him when he muscles spasm and he comes down your throat with a raspy cry. After swallowing him down, you immediately peel yourself off the dildo and roll over on your back, sliding his cock against your tongue as you grab his hand and bring it to your pussy. “See how wet that made me, Sir?”

As he slides his fingers in and out of you, you continue to tease his cock. He’s overly sensitive, hissing with pleasure at each swipe of your tongue. “Sir, please shove your cock down my throat while I come?”

Spencer sucks in air through his teeth, trembling as he slides himself into your mouth and continues teasing you, ghosting his fingers over your folds and slipping his fingers in just enough before removing them again. Pulling his hand away, he rubs back and forth over your clit with a ferocity he doesn’t normally embrace. Your body lurches into his hand just as he slides down your throat. As your orgasm washes over you, your throat tightens, ripping a growl from your husband’s mouth.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. How do you do that?”

Laughing, you kiss the head of his cock. “I had a wonderful trainer, Sir.”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ 

[averitatsuyabnha]

BNHA Y/N incorrect quotes cause im bored

Kirishima: Have you been yelled at by Y/N yet?

Bakugou: I’m not scared of Y/N.

Kirishima: So, no?

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Y/N: In the name of the Father, son, and Holy ghost

Kaminari: Head, shoulders, knees, and toes

Y/N: Turn up your nose, strike that pose!

Y/N and Kaminari: Hey Macarena!

1-A: GO TO SLEEP

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Bakugou: I’ve sent good vibes your way. They’re coming and there’s no way you can stop them.

Y/N:.....This is the most violent way I’ve been cheered up.

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Y/N: What’s the fear of being murdered called?

Bakugou: ........ common sense.

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Y/N: I wanna give you the world, but I only have, like, 200 yen.

Sero: Come here.

Y/N: *comes closer*

Sero: *hugs you*

Sero: I don’t have any cash on me yet I have the whole world in my arms right now.

Y/N: B R U H 

Sero: Bruh.

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Todoroki: How do you want your coffee?

Tokoyami: As dark and bitter as my soul.

Y/N: One glass of milk coming right up!

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Y/N: *t-posing in the dorms* Good morning, parental figure.

Aizawa: Good morning, problem child.

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Y/N: *does something stupid*

Bakugou: Great. I needed another reason to be attracted to you.

Y/N: ...what?

Bakugou: ANNOYED! I SAID ANNOYED!

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Y/N: Okay. I have this box. We are going to put what makes us happy into this box.

Ochaco: Can I put Izuku in the box?

Y/N: No. 

Ilda: Can we put Midoriya in the box?

Y/N: ...No.

Todoroki: Can I-

Y/N: WE’RE NOT PUTTING DEKU IN THE BOX!

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Kaminari: It’s really muggy today.

Y/N: If I go outside and see all our mugs on the lawn, I will kill you.

Kaminari: *Sips coffee from bowl*

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bakugou: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak, like "look at this fucking flower, this flower is taller than I am, this flower is winning and I'm losing"

Y/N: Wow. You are not ready to hear about trees.

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(i HAVE to add this one)

Canon Izuku: Alright, villain me. Time for you to be defeated once and for all-

Villain Deku: wait wait wait

Villain Deku: I’m baby

Canon Izuku: what does that even mean

Fandom: you can’t do that

Canon Izuku: WHAT

Fandom: he’s baby, you can’t just do that

Canon Izuku: but he’s a villain-

Fandom: well he’s baby so

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Y/N:  So Denki just texted me

Y/N:  and he says, “so, don’t be worried but I did this stupid thing”

Y/N:  And I’m worried cause I already know that he’s a dumbass and has no self control

Y/N:  and he tells me, “so i got high and did this thing”

Y/N:  and I’m panicking even more

Y/N:  and he finally tells me,

Y/N:  “I bought a 900 dollar wheel of cheese from France. It should be arriving next week.”

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Y/N: *on the phone* hey, babe. Can you come over?

Bakugou: No, I’m grounded.

Y/N: What the hell are you grounded?

Bakugou: My mom said “son of a bitch” and I yelled HELL YEAH I AM

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Y/N: *wearing Ilda’s glasses* How do I look?

Ilda: I have no idea.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Aizawa just took the wheels from our heelyz. I feel like Lucifer dtripped of his wings.

Sero: I have to walk down the halls like a common wench and I am livid.

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Bakugou: Whatever you're thinking right now, stop

Y/N: What?

Bakugou: You always make that face when you're about to say something stupid to piss me off so cut it out-

Y/N: I love you

Bakugou:

Y/N:

Y/N: Also cereal qualifies as a soup

Bakugou: I fucking knew it

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Tokoyami: I can't believe all these people dressed in black. All-black was my thing, and now everyone's doing it to be 'cool'. They're all posers

Y/N: Tokoyami, I cannot stress this enough. We are at Nighteye’s funeral

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: I know this is random, but Dom or Sub?

Midoriya Izuku: I guess Domino's. I don't go to Subway that much. Don't see why you'd put them in the same category.

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Kaminari: Because people are often buried in their best clothes, the zombie apocalypse would be a very formal affair.

Bakugou: If I die, I’m gonna be buried in battle armour. Good luck, bitch.

Y/N: If.

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Y/N: Oh look, we’re under the mistletoe. You know what that means.

Todoroki: Y/N, that isn’t mistletoe.

Todoroki, waking up in the middle of the night: Oh my god, they were flirting with me.

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(*WHEEZE* XD)

Shouto: *singing* I’m just like you

Zuko: *echoing* I’m just like you

Shouto: you’re just like me

Zuko: *echoing* you’re just like me

Shouto & Zuko: *holding hands* it’s something anyone can see

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Kirishima playing with Y/N’s hair*

Y/N: Stop it Kirishima, you're ruining my reputation.

Kirishima: Then get off my lap.

Y/N: no

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bakugou: Your existence is confusing.

Y/N: How so?

Bakugou: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to you upsets me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: I will now torture you.

Dabi: [raises an eyebrow, smirking] Kinky.

Y/N: [smiles] I think you are sweet and beautiful.

Dabi: [tensing up] Wait…

Y/N: [moving toward him] You deserve to be cared for.

Dabi: [backing away] No.

Y/n: [leaning forward, trapping him against a wall] Your feelings and needs are valid and deserve to be heard.

Dabi: [holding up his hands] I need a safeword!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Bakugou has no survival skills, his need to win has replaced them.

Kirishima: That can’t be true!

Y/N: Watch this.

Y/N: Hey Bakubabe, race you to the bottom of the stairs!

Bakugou: [yeets self out the window]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ashido: *Sighs*

Y/N: You bored?

Ashido: Yeah.

Y/N: Wanna start drama for no reason?

Ashido: Thought you'd never ask

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Midoriya: I... I think I have a crush on Todoroki.

Y/N: Congratulations, you’re officially the last to know.

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Bakugou: I HATE YOU, DEKU!!

Midoriya: Yeah? WELL I HATE YOU TOO!!

[An hour later]

Bakugou, crying to Y/N: H-He wasn’t supposed to say it back!!

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(XD REEEEE)

Shigaraki: Goodnight.

Spinner: Goodnight.

Mr Compress: Sleep tight.

Toga: Don’t let the bed bugs bite.

Magne: Tonight.

Twice: Imma fight.

Toga: Til we see the sunlight.

Magne: Tik tok.

Twice: On the clock.

Toga: But the party don’t stop-

Dabi: SHUT THE FUCK UP

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bakugou: I only feel one emotion and it is anger.

Y/N: Last night you drunk texted everyone of us a thousand heart emojis.

Bakugou: Out of anger.

[aerialflight]

So I was talking to @adelmortescryche about how I've recently gotten into the Untamed. And since my mind is mad hellspace, it spawned out this.

This is a transcript of my conversation with her. Morty, my friend, what have I done.

-

im fucking screwed

you know how i know im screwed?

cause im thinking of fic ideas of ichigo being in the untamed world

that is the first sign of madness

because i only put ichigo in fandoms that im really, really into

it is a sign that all is lost

it is a sign, that im a dead man walking

fudge me

and here's the best part, the worst part, whatever

i have two running fic ideas and they're both terrible

for my health

idea 1: ichigo comes in like a wrecking ball and basically fucks everyone over and hates the lans (to hell with those guys) and hates meng yao and just, hates everything

cause he'd like to go home, he did not sign up for this shit

or idea 2: ichigo wakes up as a kid after dying, reincarnated, but here's the thing

he's just a street kid at the age of 8 and has no fucking idea where the hell he is

so he books it. he goes fucking feral. he runs to the woods and becomes a woodland creature. he is one with nature.

and he avoids everything. except the nice wen doctor and her brother. he adopts children along the way and takes care of them because of course he does

and he somehow adopts meng yao because meng yao sometimes feeds him, or ichigo feeds him. and he Approves how meng yao takes care of his very nice mother.

and he finds wei wuxian. wei wuxian follows him around ironically like a dog and the jiangs never find him. cause ichigo is too competent and will not lose this child to political bullshit, he will not

when in doubt, run to the woods. follow the ASL brothers route.

and ichigo teaches them how to fight, all of them. ichigo learns how to read and speak chinese cause language barrier. sign language. it only increases his reputation as a child who grew up ferals in the wilderness and beyond

and ichigo is waiting for the day zangetsu appears, he can feel the bastard vibrating in his soul, reaching for his partner in his inner world and finding it murky. typical of the hollow to want to make a dramatic entrance

fuck me morty i hate this

i'm screwed

omg, dude

what if ichigo accidentally creates a new sect without even knowing he's doing it

all these children willing to die for him, wen qing thinking he's a fucking riot and appreciates how ichigo wants to protect his own, and ichigo respects her for how much she wants to protect her very kind sibling that reminds ichigo way too much of yuzu (god he misses her)

wen qing and ichigo helping each other out and ichigo knows her position and offers, hey, if you're ever in trouble, call for me. i'll be there. no conditions, no deals.

and ichigo wins her loyalty right then and there.

she sends info to him where the wens are moving, ichigo saving wens left and right and basically being a Decent Human Being.

he has a reputation now. anyone who are outsiders and need protection, go to kurosaki ichigo, he will help you.

and his sect keeps fucking growing

and by the time he hits 12-13, he's the head of a gang and other sects are beginning to take notice. and the plot thickens and just omg dude why

why

the more im writing this the most it keeps expanding in my head fuck me

i hate this

god what if renji and rukia somehow appear in this world also as children

they were born street rats too, they could be ichigo's seconds. or something. rukia insisting they should be near society. renji is just where the party is at and resigns himself to wherever his friends will take him cause hell if he's getting involved with the decision process

he's just rolling with it

what a guy

ichigo points to the lans and says "3000 rules rukia, 3000 rules. like hell im gonna be anywhere near a civilization where they actually think that's humanly possible to follow and are exalted instead of deemed as fucking weirdos"

"even byakuya would die swallowing that kind of bullshit*

"we're strong, we can survive here."

"think of the kids rukia"

"fuck you ichigo. you're just an antisocial punk who hates dealing with people"

ichigo points to society

"can you blame me?"

rukia sighs

rukia relents

renji is just glad that everyone has stopped screaming

what if one day, in a newly topsy turvy world that ichigo created, somewhat, ish, grimmjow just pops out of a garganta and is like FIGHT ME

AND ICHIGO IS DONE

FUCK YOU GRIMMJOW I THOUGHT I'D AT LEAST GET SOME PEACE AND QUIET AND I HATE THIS. I HATE YOU.

WHY ARE YOU HERE

FIGHT ME grimmjow roars

sighs

thats how i picture this fic ending.

thats how i picture this fic ending

i can imagine an ending scene stop me now

also, it is a given fact that ichigo and nie mingjue gets along like a house on fire. this whole fic idea wouldn't have started without that already established.

BONDING OVER THE FACT THEY'RE OLDER BROTHERS. BONDING OVER DEALING WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S BULLSHIT. BOTH WAY TOO FUCKING HONEST, BLUNT, AND RIGHTEOUS TO HANDLE. THIS WORLD CAN'T HANDLE TWO OF THEM

BOTH HAVING FIERY TEMPERS AND HAVE SCREAMING MATCHES OVER THE WENS AND WHAT HAPPENS TO THEM ICHIGO IS READY TO FUCKING GO YESTERDAY

ichigo thinking xichen is an ineffectual nice guy and would like to yell at him to stop sitting around doing nothing chop chop move it.

and wangji is just, the definition of repressed and ichigo yells at him to stop being repressed

and wei wuxian has a crush. ichigo is willing to voodoo doll the two of them and smush their mouths together, or open their mouths so they can fucking communicate omg i hate all of this

jiang cheng. ichigo likes.

this kid. he likes this kid

ichigo straight up murders the head of the jins. yup.

f that guy

[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.”

[lesbiancarat]

Lol its fine!! Reply whenever you can ^_^

But ahh true, true. Idk why I thought it would be a hint to the music lol but a sort og an evolution of the concept so to speak. Either way, am excited for the comeback because fresh svt is always iconic. Oohhh the concept photos are all pretty and idk which one to pick jfkshfjsjd. Like they are all very on brand for them but also unique and pretty. Very artsy haha.

Ahh yes, rabbitnwas forever iconic and it was what helped other places like discord to do similar things! But ah understandable!! Both seventeen and nct (when I was getting into kpop more) always felt like BIG well known groups due to their fandoms being so big at least to me. Especially when people always recommended their songs i just assumed they have been around for a while like bts when I joined only to realize they are still rookies. Monster rookies indeed!! The fact so many people love them is enough for me to say they are amazing, well respected and loved by many. Those comments annoy me, especially when people downplay their hard work by claiming 'bighit helped them get more famous' like what!? Yes bighit did help with getting more western attention per se but like downplaying as if they haven't achieved anything at all is confusing to me. Claiming how streaming fans aren't doing s good job to which im like one, mass streaming isn't healthy and two, fans who do try their best and we do beat records of our own. Seventeen isn't unpopular, just because they aren't you know who level doesn't mean they aren't big like do people forget what unpopular means?

Anywhoo, a day late but happy late birthday to our tiger King. May he forever rule the tiger land and take over the world with his tiger agenda lol.

yes! one side fits my aesthetic the best but all the concept photos were nice ^^

and yeah it is annoying but at the same time those people are so detached from reality that I'm just sort of like whatever djflgj like 'it's obvious to anyone who knows what they're talking about you're wrong so I'm not going to bother arguing w you' is sort of my mindset when i see those comments dhfkj bc if i don't think of it that way then i get angry easily. the way i see it bh/hybe definitely is helping SVT with western promotions but like. i don't think SVT/pledis would have been incapable of expanding into the western market on their own if they wanted to. but it's a given that it will be easier and faster with hybe bc they have connections and a reputation in the western market already established. honestly I'd guess that was one of pledis's main incentives for agreeing to the acquisition. but at the same time hybe and western media wouldn't give SVT the time of day if they truly were the flops some ppl try to claim they are lol

and yeah agreed, streaming culture can be super unhealthy. it's one thing to do it if you want to but at the same time don't be losing sleep over it or prioritizing it over your real life responsibilities. and definitely don't guilt trip and say a bunch of toxic things to others to get them to stream... i feel like it would be a lot healthier if fanbases just stuck to simply explaining, hey this is what streaming is and why it can be important (for like music shows etc) and here's how to do it properly if you choose to stream, and then just let people decide for themselves. there would still be people more than willing to do it, and without the guilt tripping maybe even more people would just find it enjoyable. but hey, what do i know? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i also think most kpop stans underestimate how many views from from casual listeners and fans vs hardcore fans/streamers. like streaming does make a difference, but not 100M views difference like some people try to act like it does. tbh there are a lot of groups that have a smaller core fanbase than SVT but get hundreds of millions of views bc they have a lot of casual listeners. you can even see it internally too: don't wanna cry is SVTs most viewed MV by a mile, it's the only one to pass 100M views, let alone 200M. and it has nothing to do w carats streaming dwc extra hard, it's bc it's arguably SVTs most well known song outside of the fandom. i see reactors all the time who react to it and say "oh i know this song! i had no idea it was by seventeen" and you can look at the comments section and see a bunch of people saying the song has a fandom of its own/even if you're not a carat you have to know this song

kpop stans also put too much emphasis on views imo and also equate views to popularity, which on the surface might make sense but isn't always the case. actually in terms of profit, groups/companies make the vast majority of their money off of album, merch, and ticket sales than they do off of views. but those are all things that are a lot harder to "sell" than views, because they actually cost money for the consumer, while you can watch an MV for free. hence why it makes sense that there are a lot of groups with hundreds of millions of views that get relatively low album sales. it's easy to convince casual fans and and listeners to watch an MV than to get them to buy something

and I'm not trying to diss other groups at all or try to say groups that consistently get 200M+ views are flops, they're absolutely not. I'm just trying to point out that kpop stans completely underestimate the amount of casual listeners that exist

but this is why SVT is honestly such a fascinating case. their MV views are nothing to write home about, and yet they're the second highest selling k-act at the moment and are in the top 10 if not top 5 highest selling k-acts of all time, their album sales are literally insane. a lot of people chalk it up to carats being bad streamers but like i said before, streaming isn't going to make a difference of hundreds of millions of views. this indicates to me that seventeen have a bigger core fanbase (ie people who call themselves carats and actually keep track of seventeens activities) but a smaller audience of casual listeners compare to other kpop groups. and i think a lot of people, carats, and non carats alike, pick up on this in some way or another but don't realize that's what's going on and it manifests in kind of weird ways sometimes

and this fact isn't something that bothers me, i actually think it's super important more than anything for SVT to have a strong core fanbase if what they're shooting for is longevity. but i do find it strange bc as i said, groups that do better with digitals than physical sales make total sense from a consumer standpoint!! so how did SVT end up like this!! it's so interesting for me to think about. i think i would have a better idea of why this is if i had been around since debut but alas

the only thing i can come up with is that SVT is better at retaining fans or like... getting fans invested in the group so people who become carats are less likely to be multistans? bc multistans play a huge part in both being and attracting casual listeners. they're the ones making video compilations and edits and content that includes multiple kpop groups, which is how a lot of non-fans get interested in other groups. whereas if someone is just a carat and making content for SVT the people most likely to watch that content is ppl who are already carats. i know im not the only one that's noticed it's kind of rare for SVT to be included in multistan edits and videos. which i don't blame anyone for, i think most of those people genuinely just don't stan SVT and they shouldn't be expected to include a group they don't know we'll or at all. at the end of the day ppl can make what they like. but it's interesting to observe as a general trend. but idk SVT potentially having a lower percentage of multistans still isn't really an explanation for why SVT doesn't have as many casual listeners bc those things kind of just go hand in hand. like either one could be the cause of the other one if that makes sense

ANYWAY sorry for the long reply but as i said the ratio of SVTs core fanbase vs casual listeners is a topic i find endlessly fascinating dhfmfj

[gingerwritess]

I’m really drunk and your reader Loki drunk fix is like my actual life right now minus I’m alone and drunk lmao

“Your…nose, Lucky.”

Loki’s sigh is royal.

“What about my nose?”

“It’s cute,” you giggle, rolling over and pressing your index finger to the tip of his nose. “It looks evil, though…still wanna kiss it.”

You do—with a very loud, over-exaggerated smooch.

“Can you go to sleep now?” Blanching, he wipes off the tip of his nose. “My nose will still be here in the morning, we’ll see how you feel about it then.”

“M’gonna still love it,” you mumble—and then pull your shirt off.

“Why…”

“I want to be free,” you sigh, stretching your arms over your head. “C’mon, you too.”

“I’m never allowing you to drink my mead again.”

Sure, he’s grumbling, but a few seconds later you’re seeing double—double foggy but impeccably chiselled eight-packs, that is.

“Tha’s mine,” you mumble, and your hand goes bumpbumpbumpbump as it drags over his stomach, a drunk giggle erupting into the dim room. “Where’d you get your abs?”

Loki blinks, pausing his attempts to pull the blankets up to your chin. “Uh…I’d have to say they’re from excessive training.”

“Oh, like exercise, mmm.”

“Sure.” He chuckles when you fling the covers off again and try to roll out of bed, only to be caught and plopped right back on the pillows by your lovely boyfriend. “Can you please go to sleep now?”

“Stay with me, eight-pack.” Your hand latches around his wrist.

“Is that all I am to you? My abs?”

“Duh, you sexy piece of meat,” you giggle sleepily, and you lurch forward suddenly to wrap your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek against his abs. “Comfy, too. C’mon, I wanna use you as a pillow.”

“I’m…offended,” he sighs, climbing into bed beside you, your happy little squeal making his heart somersault. “Being a pillow was never the intended use of a strong core, but here we are…”

He knows you’re going to drool all over him tonight, but the way you snuggle up against his cool skin stops his breath in his throat.

“What’d you train for then, not being my pillow?” You poke him a couple times, grinning when he squirms—ticklish, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. “You’re real good at it, lucky ducky.”

Ignore the name, get you to fall asleep. Simple.

“Ah…wars.” He smoothes a hand over your head. “Training for battles and raids and wars, anything I needed to use to protect myself, the people I love, and my home.”

“So…have y’killed anyone, Lucky?”

A lump catches in his throat.

You innocent little human. Daft, utterly stupid and clueless, getting yourself into a situation like this with a person like him, trusting him to care for you, but still so innocent.

Asking him to stay? Hugging him like this?

Stupid, did he mention?

“You know the answer to that,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek. “The more you think about it, the less you’ll want me.”

“Okay.”

Your arms around him tighten and you smile into his abs.

“You’re still a good pillow.”

“Thank you.” He smiles down at your squished-up cheek. “Will you please sleep now?”

“Sheesh, fine.”

Dim moonlight fills the room as his thumb brushes over your jaw, a gentle breeze leading the curtains lining the open window in a waltz…he’s stuck praying it helps you fall asleep quicker.

As quick as possible, actually, because he really doesn’t know how much longer he can last before completely losing his mind.

Your breathing steadies after a few minutes, slow, warm, open-mouth breaths fluttering over his skin.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, prying your arms from around his waist. “I’ll check on you in the morning, my love.”

He’s nearly to the door when you sit straight up and screech after him “WAIT, GIMME YOUR EVIL NOSE—”

This. close.

Turning back around with a half-hearted sigh, he trudges back to lean on the edge of the mattress, bowing his head for you to do as you please with his, uh…evil nose.

“Gosh, everything on your face is pretty.” You heave a dreamy sigh, draping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m gonna kiss it all.”

“Mhm. You’re going to be in so much pain tomorrow.”

“Don’t care. Tonight was fun.”

“Just kiss me and go to sleep,” Loki laughs, bumping the tip of his nose into yours.

“Don’t rush me,” you huff with a frown. “Gotta take it all in. ‘Purdy face.”

“Just get it over with.”

Face scrunched into quite possibly the cutest grin Loki has ever seen, you place both your hand gently on his cheeks, gazing up at him as he leans over you.

You squish his cheeks together, giggling like a child when his lips pucker and he frowns.

“I have a reputation I need to maintain, you know.”

He doesn’t move, though.

You jump forward and plant a kiss on his forehead. “Love you here, pretty boy.”

“Again, is all I am to you my looks??”

Your mead-stained lips trail down the bridge and smack against the tip of his nose. “Love ya here, too, mister sexy-pants.”

“I don’t approve of this,” he jokingly scoffs, still not even trying to move away from your reach. “Our love should be so much more than physical—”

One loud smooch lands on his lips.

“Really love you here. Over ‘n over ‘n over.”

Twenty some-odd more little kisses pepper over his lips, touching down neatly on the corner of his mouth and venturing down to make sure his chin gets the love it deserves, too.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” you mumble into his lips, still squishing his face between your hands. “I just can’t believe I get you, like, whenever.”

“Beauty is fleeting,” he whispers, weakly trying to brush away your compliments.

Your drunken gaze turns serious and you pull away to stare at him, eyebrows furrowed. “But you gotta know how beautiful y’really are, Lucky.”

“I’m lucky,” he repeats—if you weren’t drunk, maybe you would’ve caught the sentiment, but for now, you just burst out laughing again before kissing him.

The compliments are new.

“Beautiful, pretty, beautiful angel…” you’re mumbling again, fingers stroking along his cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. “With ‘n evil nose. Looks anger-y, Lucky.”

“My nose looks angry?” He laughs, bringing up a finger to bop your own.

“Needs a smooch.”

“Ah.”

His eyes flutter closed when you lean forward to “smooch” the tip of his nose…again.

You sit back and decide that no, that beautifully sculpted nose needs at least two more smooches, but when you lean back in to deliver, Loki tilts his head up to catch your kiss with his lips.

“Cheater.” Your lips squish together as you try to speak.

“Trickster,” he corrects, a hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “That’s enough about my nose. Kiss me properly, darling, please.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope that helps with the (possible!) hangover ;)

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda