#i might be posting about this au a lot (i've made a lot more content of it its just mainly doodles) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladamedusoif · 23 days ago

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Rockford, P.I.

Or: the one where Tim Rockford is a ghost hunter

Inspired by the incredible PPCU AU moodboards by @almostfoxglove!

Pairing: Paranormal Investigator!Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Content notes/warnings: 18+ MDNI; F!Reader; no physical description of Reader; Tim Rockford AU; Reader is Tim’s occasional partner in the business; established working relationship and friendship; friends to lovers; spooky shenanigans; implied smut; fluff; ghosts; references to death; references to alcohol use; references to drug use; strong language; cliches and most likely a lot of stuff that’s not correct about paranormal investigations.

Author's note: I loved @almostfoxglove's PPCU AU moodboards so much and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so when better to finish and post it than Halloween? I know I haven't written in a long time - since the summer, I think - and at the weekend certain discourse made me want to just give up completely and delete every word I'd ever posted. But this was nearly done, and I feel like at least some people might like to see it. So here you are. Happy Halloween, Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh.

And thank you to @mescalpascal for beta-ing this and not letting me get away with just giving up - with writing, fandom, everything.

To find more of my work and get alerts when I post new writing (which will hopefully be more frequently!), follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Ghost divider by @wethairjoel

“Rockford, PI - Tim speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

Tim spins in his battered desk chair, phone tucked against his shoulder and box of leftover takeout still in hand as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, nodding and “uh huh”-ing every so often.

He stops spinning. He puts down the box of cold lo mein. He grabs a pen, and frantically begins taking notes. He asks the caller to send as much information as they can via email.

And then he calls you.

Other little girls at school wanted to be princesses or singers or models or movie stars. You? You wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Forget clean-cut TV stars or the latest cookie-cutter boyband member, your first love was Dr Egon Spengler.

Fast forward a few decades, and your dream had become reality - kind of. Your doctoral thesis on the interplay between reported paranormal activity and its representation in popular culture had produced a few well-received articles and earned you a positive reputation in the admittedly rather specialised world of paranormal and psychical research. It had not, unfortunately, led to a glittering academic career.

Instead, you made a living with a part-time teaching gig at a university combined with a little freelance consultancy work for movies and TV shows, almost all of which ditched your nuanced advice and produced yet another cliched depiction of “ghost hunters” screaming on camera.

And then there was Tim. You’d met a long time back, after a talk you’d given in the city about change and continuity in the concept of the “haunted house”. He was sitting in the front, diligently taking notes and nodding along as you spoke, eyes warm and encouraging - and he immediately made a beeline to ask you for coffee as soon as the Q&A wrapped up.

Before you parted that evening, he handed you his card.

”Rockford, PI. You’re a private investigator?”

Tim shook his head. “Paranormal investigator. Helps to have most people think it’s the other kind of PI, though.” He called you from time to time, asking for your help on specific cases, sometimes enlisting you as a partner for the duration of an investigation. You always welcomed the extra income, but in truth you helped him out for the sheer love of it - for the chance to feel like a real Ghostbuster, even if Tim worked in business attire instead of boiler suits, and to spend time with one of the few people in the world you felt really got you.

You peer out at the English countryside from the window of the car Tim hired at Heathrow, straining to see something of the allegedly “green and pleasant” land through the miserable grey haze and sheets of rain. The navigation on your phone announces the final turn for your destination. Tim, still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, approaches cautiously and takes the left turn onto the long driveway.

“Whoa.” His voice is awestruck as the car arrives at the enormous country house, now a luxury boutique hotel catering to the rich and famous in search of an exclusive retreat. “We’re a long way from poltergeists in Poughkeepsie.”

You shrug as Tim drives into the small, discreet parking lot to one side of the building. “I’ve done some work on a couple of Gilded Age mansions. This isn’t going to be all that different, right?”

“True,” he muses, climbing out of the car and setting to work unpacking your luggage: a suitcase each, plus several hard-sided cases of vital equipment for conducting the investigation, labelled ‘Scientific Instruments’. “And they did say they think it’s only one manifestation.”

You chuckle as you help him wheel the cases from the car towards the hotel entrance, where a man in elegant livery is already rushing to greet you with a brass luggage trolley. “One manifestation? Please. We got this, Rockford.”

That evening, unpacked, freshened up, and after a dinner meeting with the hotel owner, you and Tim decamp to the library - now a comfortably-appointed lounge with its own bar - to compare notes. The two of you are the only residents, the hotel having temporarily suspended operations in order to deal with the spectral guest.

He hands you a glass of whiskey and settles beside you on the Chesterfield sofa, hair still damp from his earlier shower and his customary attire replaced by a long-sleeved Henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks more boyish, the grey patches in his beard notwithstanding, and you find yourself smiling softly at him.

“So: first impressions?”

You take a sip of your drink and reach for your notebook. “First impressions: they must be pretty freaked out to temporarily close down a hotel over one spirit, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s unusually troublesome - they mentioned strange things appearing on bedroom walls, guests waking to the sound of a voice shouting for help, weird stuff turning up on TV channels... And they do pride themselves on the whole ‘idyllic rural retreat’ brand, which a ghost doesn’t exactly fit with.” He sips his whiskey and thinks. “Did you find out any more about the death here a couple of years ago?”

”I did - it was weirdly under-reported, given that a celebrity was involved, but I guess people had much bigger things to worry about during the pandemic.” You flip to a different page. “Nothing I found out seemed to contradict the owner’s version of events, though I’m sure they’d be careful to control the narrative if there was anything to hide.”

Tim sucks his cheek, deep in thought, and nods. “I guess we can’t proceed until we see how this thing is manifesting for ourselves. You have everything you need for the surveillance in your room overnight?”

You nod. “And we’ve got the kit set up in the other parts of the hotel the owner mentioned. I think we’re good to go, Timothy.”

He grins, eyes sparkling, and clinks your glass.

Jetlag doesn’t stop you waking as soon as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek around the heavy drapes that adorn the windows of your large bedroom. You’re checking the recordings and readings taken in the room overnight, looking for any indication of paranormal activity, when your phone buzzes with a message from Tim.

Nothing in my room overnight. Anything in yours?

Not that I can see. You want to check the other equipment before breakfast?

Sure thing. Race you to the Full English.

“Oh, it’s on, Rockford,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for leggings and an old hoodie. You slip on a pair of Crocs, already bracing yourself for Tim’s inevitable comments about your choice of footwear, grab your keycard, and slip out of the room.

It’s quiet in your absence, save for the gentle sound of birds singing outside, the wind occasionally rattling your windows - and the increasingly steady beeping now being emitted from a little device Tim had given you, designed to measure sudden shifts in psychical energy.

None of the other devices set up elsewhere in the hotel had registered anything out of the ordinary. Tim, typically, is philosophical.

“We just have to wait, do some more research in the meantime, speak to the staff. How’s that breakfast?” He sips his coffee, mug looking comically small in his large hand, and gives you a mischievous look.

“The bacon’s delicious, the mushrooms are great, the eggs are perfect… but I don’t think Cumberland sausages are for me.” You poke at the thick, half-eaten link sausage on the plate. “Not least because ‘Cumberland sausage’ sounds like a fuckin’ euphemism if ever I heard one.”

Tim laughs, the warm sound resonating in the empty dining room. He tops up his coffee and reaches for another slice of toast, and you realise that he seems…different.

“Rockford?” He looks up at you, toast crumbs in his moustache. “What’s going on with you? You aren’t normally this, uh, jolly on a job.”

He swallows his toast and drinks his coffee thoughtfully. “It’s a fascinating case, and I guess I’m just really happy that we’re working together again. Even if you’re wearing those.”

Tim gestures with mock scorn towards your brightly-coloured Crocs, before giving you a sly wink.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to comment on my sartorial choices, Rockford? Or do you want me to talk about your rotating selection of striped ties from Sears?”

After breakfast, Tim decides to take advantage of the on-site pool and you return to your room for a quick shower before beginning the first round of interviews with hotel staff. The beeping noise is audible before you’ve even reached the door.

You steel yourself and gently enter the room, slowly moving in the direction of the little device on its tripod, various alert lights flashing in sync with the rhythm of its insistent beeps. You transcribe the codes on its screen into your notebook and take a quick video, ready to show Tim as soon as possible. Cross-legged on the floor, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying your breathing.

“I can’t believe they let in someone else wearing Crocs. So much for their fuckin’ dress code.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sound of the male voice behind you, on the other side of the room. American. West coast, you think. A little…affected?

In other words: that’s probably not a member of staff.

You get to your feet and turn, slowly, in the direction of the voice.

There, on the other side of the room, sprawled on the sofa, is a man you think must be in his early 40s. His hair is wild, wavy, dark; his eyes obscured by a pair of vintage Ray-Bans. He’s wearing a brown teddy coat, which has slipped open to reveal a shirtless torso and a flash of tummy. A pair of loose grey shorts, wooly socks, and fucking Crocs complete his outfit.

Definitely not staff.

Though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you find the strength to speak. “Are you a spirit?”

The man slips his glasses down his nose and gives you a withering look. “What the fuck else do you think I am? And while we’re here - why is that…thing making so much noise?”

“It’s to read changes in psychical activity,” you explain. “So it’s probably picking you up.”

The man thinks about this for a couple of moments, as if chewing it over. With a jolt, you realise two things: firstly, that in all your years of working with the paranormal, you’ve never actually seen a ghost, at least not in this form; and secondly, that you recognise this figure.

“So you do know who I am,” he drawls, pushing his glasses back up his nose and lying back on the couch. Shit, he’s more powerful than you suspected - he can pick up on what you’re thinking.

“It’s…it’s you. The dead guest.”

He exhales dramatically and flops his arm over the side of the sofa. “I have a name.”

You rack your brains, afraid to look away to grab your notebook in case he disappears.

“You’re…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

Tim Rockford is on his twentieth lap of the pool when a slow, steady buzzing noise catches his ear, coming from the direction of the tote bag he’d left poolside with towels, a t-shirt, and shorts. He hauls himself out of the water and roughly dries off his face, hair, and hands before rummaging in the bag. “Fuck!”

He’s half-wet and breathless when you open the door to your room, his fist still raised as if ready to continue the frantic hammering that had signalled his arrival.

“Jesus! You okay?”

He’s turning and twirling around the room, glasses on and fogged up from the residual humidity of his body, holding up one of his own psychical activity detectors. “You…fuck,” Tim hisses as he tries to catch his breath. “You saw it? Where is it?”

“So I’m an it now?”, Dieter drawls, now hovering - literally - in the area of the large bay window.

“He’s there,” you gesture, calmly, as if being in a room with the spectral manifestation of a dead Hollywood actor was an everyday occurrence. “By the window.”

Tim stares directly at Dieter, but doesn’t register anything. Dieter roars with laughter.

“Oh, babe! Looks like you’re special.”

“I’m special?”

Tim swivels at the sound of your voice, confusion written all over his face. Dieter sidles up to the other man, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder, and you’re struck by a kind of resemblance. Tim shivers.

“He can’t see or hear me. Most people can’t, which makes haunting the fuck out of this place hilarious,” the actor explains. He takes a seat on a vanity table near the window and looks a little wistful. “Annika was the last person who could see and hear me,” he sighs. “Kinda nice to be…” - he wiggles his hands in the air - “visible again.”

“He…he says I’m special because I can see and hear him, and you can’t. Most people can’t. Is this…normal? Am I normal?”

Tim crosses the room and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing it in a gesture of reassurance. “I mean, none of what we do is normal. But yes, this is not unusual.”

Dieter immediately launches into a Tom Jones impersonation, gyrating in exaggerated fashion towards Tim, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. Tim looks hurt.

“Oh! Oh, Tim, no, I was rolling my eyes at him. Not you. Shit, this is going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

The crinkles that form around Tim’s eyes when he smiles make a welcome appearance, and his dark eyes twinkle behind his glasses. “I’m sure we can work out a system for keeping communication clear. Usually, when a manifestation is only visible to one or two people, it means they have some kind of need, or something unfulfilled. And, I guess, they think the witness can give it to them.”

You glance over at Dieter, who is still gyrating. He lowers his sunglasses and grins at you lasciviously.

Over the next couple of days, you and Tim interview hotel staff and examine some of the areas affected by the haunting, to establish a pattern for the manifestation’s - for Dieter’s - behaviour.

“The random murals appearing overnight aren’t that disturbing, I suppose,” you muse, noting down the details of the artwork Dieter had left in one guest bedroom.

“Depends on what you consider disturbing, though.” Tim rubs a finger against the paint, examining the powdery residue. “I wouldn’t like to wake up to an extra-large rendering of Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ on my hotel room wall.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Well, fair. Though it’s weirdly good, for a ghost.”

Your psychical activity detectors start to beep in unison and you turn to each other before you spy Dieter, lounging on top of a wardrobe. He’s clad differently, today, this time sporting a green robe, a baggy purple t-shirt, and striped lounge pants.

And the Crocs.

“I am good. Honestly, if they’d got my heart going again I think I’d have quit Hollywood, y’know? Jacked it all in, got clean, got into art properly. Make sculptures, paint, run a gallery or some shit.”

“He’s talking to me,” you explain to Tim, before turning back to Dieter. “So you’re hanging around here because you didn’t get to make the art you dreamed of?”

“Ugh. I don’t have to explain myself to you people.”

And he’s gone.

In the evenings, the hotel insists on serving you and Tim dinner as if you were ordinary guests, not paranormal investigators tasked with eradicating the ghost of an Oscar-winning Hollywood enfant terrible from the property. The lone waiter serves your five-course meal with the kind of exaggerated formality you had only ever seen in films or TV shows about royalty, respectfully pointing out the various cutlery and accoutrements needed for each course in a low, somewhat fawning voice.

“And voilà, Mr Rockford, your seabass.” He lifts the dome from Tim’s plate and does a little bow.

Tim is chewing the inside of his cheek and turning pink as the waiter leans closer to his ear.

“A reminder, sir, should you require it, that the fishknife is that delicate little marvel on the right. Bon appétit.”

Tim says nothing as the waiter makes his way across the vast, empty dining room, watching for the door to the kitchens to close properly before he lets out a belly laugh so huge it almost rocks the table you’re seated at. You raise an eyebrow and pour him a fresh glass of water.

“Are you quite well, Tim?”

He’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. “Why did he say that about the fishknife? And the fucking dome? I shouldn’t laugh but…”

“You mean you didn’t need to be reminded that the fishknife is a delicate little marvel?”

Your attempt to replicate the waiter’s tone sets the two of you off this time, and you’re still laughing about it by the time you retreat to the lounge with a gin and tonic each.

This was the longest you’d ever spent in Tim’s company, you realised one night, sitting with your feet tucked under you on the large leather sofa. There was a lot that you didn’t know about each other, but being stuck in a haunted hotel is nothing if not an ideal opportunity for getting to know someone better.

You are listening to Tim animatedly telling you about one of his strangest cases. His face lights up when he talks about his work, big hands gesturing for emphasis, eyes bright and focused on you. He listens to you with the same commitment and interest, keenly asking questions and taking in your every word.

When you lean in for a goodnight hug before parting ways, he seems surprised - but pleased, somehow, as he returns your embrace.

Your TV is on when you return to your room. The tell-tale beeping from the psychical activity monitor gives him away immediately.

“Dieter.”

He’s lying on your bed, propped up on one arm, green robe wrapped around him. “Heyyyyyyy. Hope you don’t mind. Wanted some company and I’ve haunted the fuck out of everyone else around here.”

You shake your head and pour yourself a glass of water. “I don’t mind. But if I let you hang out with me you have to answer my questions.”

He groans and flops back onto the bed, though his body makes no indentation in the bedclothes. “FINE. But you have to answer mine.”

“Fair.” You settle beside him on the bed, trying not to overthink the fact that you were literally hanging out with a dead man. “What the fuck are you watching?”

He runs his fingers through his hair in irritation and points at the 90s sitcom he’s watching on some random-ass cable channel. “Allegedly this is a British remake of Who’s The Boss but like, it’s fucking shit. No Danza, no party.”

You pause for a moment. “Speaking of party…can you do drugs, if you’re a ghost? All the evidence would suggest you can’t, but I’ve never actually heard from someone with first-hand experience.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

Dieter grimaces. “I literally threw a couple of tabs of acid through my stupid fuckin’ ghost body, didn’t I. Just…whoosh.” He gestures with his hand. “I feel so real, y’know? All corporeal. But then you try to get high and bam. No can do. I can’t eat or drink, either.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

He stares at you. “Why do you get to ask two questions in a row? My turn.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your water, noticing Dieter staring longingly at the glass.

“Fine.”

He cackles and claps his hands together. They make no sound.

“Are you and Magnum P.I. fucking? You’re fucking, right?”

“Um, no?” You take another sip of water and swallow hard. “No, we are not fucking. We’re colleagues.”

Dieter mimics you, note-perfect, and cackles again. “Bullshit. He’s down so fuckin’ bad for you.”

“Tim is not ‘down bad’ for me, as you put it.”

He sits up, moving into a kind of lotus position. “He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He is, and I know he is because I can literally sense this shit. And I can definitely sense that you’ve got a crush on ol’ Columbo down the hall. Which is fair, I guess. He’s pretty hot.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, but maintain what you hope is a neutral expression.

“Oh, Scully is trying so hard not to let her crush on Mulder show.” He smiles a smug, satisfied grin.

“Is he Magnum, Columbo, or Mulder, Dieter?”

“All three, baby.” He hovers about a foot above the bed, pointing at you accusingly. “And you should put him out of his misery. Want me to go check on him for you, see if he’s thinking about you right now?” Dieter wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to get a ghost trap and put you in it.”

“Like in Ghostbusters?!” Dieter seems unreasonably excited.

“Do you want to be sealed up in a little trap, or would you prefer to continue having free rein?”

He sighs and descends back to the bed. “Ugh. Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m not wrong.”

Dieter fucking Bravo. He was haunting your brain, as well as this hotel.

His insistence that Tim had a thing for you - and vice versa - now coloured every interaction, every conversation between you and your colleague as you tried to discern any evidence that Dieter was right, or that disproved his theory. To your horror, you began to unconsciously hope that he wasn’t just winding you up.

He quickly got in the habit of appearing in your room just before bedtime: staying for a little chat, dodging any of your questions that veered too close to the essential truth of why he hadn’t completely passed over to the great beyond, and asking repeatedly if you and Tim had “got around to fucking” yet.

“It would be kinda hard for us to get around to fucking with a fucking ghost in my room, don’t you think?”

He laughs his wheezy rasp of a laugh and crosses his hands over his tummy. “Listen, the more the merrier, babe.”

A few moments pass before you break the silence. “Why are you so obsessed with us, with me and Tim, with us getting together?”

He pouts and stares into the middle distance. “I guess…hmm. I want people to get what they want, love-wise.” Dieter discerns your incredulous glance. “What? I mean it! I’m a big fan of romance and happy endings.”

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical, Dieter.”

Tension crackles in the air. When he speaks again, he’s very quiet.

“Just because I didn’t get a happy ending in life doesn’t mean I can’t believe in them.”

Dieter’s big, dark eyes - or the spectral impression of his big, dark eyes, now trapped in some in-between place, neither here nor there - look at you with absolute sincerity.

“Is that why you’re still here?”

He turns away.

“I don’t know why I can see you, Dieter, or what you need me for, but there’s got to be a reason for it. And I can’t help you until you talk to me.”

He huddles deeper into his green robe, and you exhale.

“Fine. You’re not wrong. You’re right, in fact.”

He doesn’t move, but you can almost feel his ghostly ears pricking up.

“I’m right?”

You close your eyes and bite your lip. “Fuck it. You’re right, I… I think I do have a crush on him.”

This time, you swear you can hear Dieter smile.

“On who?”

“You know who.”

“Say it.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, fuck.” You bury your head in your hands. “Why do I need to say it, when you can sense what I’m thinking?”

Dieter rolls over and props himself up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Because it’s very fucking satisfying. For me.”

“Fuck you, Dieter Bravo. Fine. I - I have a crush on Tim. Happy?”

He nods, and points in the direction of Tim’s room, down the hall. “Mmm. And now you need to tell Timmy so that he can tell you he has a crush on you and then you can go off and have lots of weirdo paranormal-obsessed babies. If that’s a thing you want, of course.”

“Okay.”

Dieter’s eyes widen. “Okay? So, you’re just gonna tell him?”

“I’ll tell him… but only if you let me help you.”

“No deal. Fuck you two, keep on being idiots.”

“I thought you loved happy endings, romance, all that?”

“Nope.”

You shift on the mattress to face Dieter, and speak more gently this time. “Do you want to be stuck here forever, Dieter?”

He hesitates. “Nope.”

“So, should we make a deal?”

He talks and talks all night, floating around the room, resting on the vanity, on the armchair, on the bed, and at one point drifting in and out of the bathroom - even with the door closed.

And you listen. You listen like Tim listens to you: engaged, curious, open, kind, even, trying to get to the root of what’s keeping this man trapped in between worlds in a luxury hotel in the English countryside.

Unfinished business is a common explanation for why ghosts hang around, you’ve realised. A desire for vengeance, too. Sometimes spirits just want to stay around their families and friends. Once, a long time ago, a client of Tim’s described the work as being like a kind of doula, for ghosts.

“You help them get out of the in-between,” the lady had said, after Tim had solved the ongoing hauntings in her family’s ranch house. “They just need someone to hold their hand, I guess. Well, maybe not literally.”

Watching and listening as Dieter talks about his life, his death, his successes, his failures, you become ever more keenly aware of how right she was, and more focused on getting him to where he needs to be. To peace.

He descends gently to the ground in front of the TV set. “I can’t deny that the whole Beetlejuice shtick has been fun, most of the time,” he says, sadly. “But you’re right, I don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I mean, the rest of my death. I mean -”

“The rest of your afterlife.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“Dieter… do you think you might just be afraid?”

“Afraid?” His eyes are wide and frightened, giving you his answer without a word.

“Afraid to let go. Afraid to move to the next stage, whatever that is.”

“But that’s just it.” Dieter stares at his Crocs. “You said it. ‘Whatever that is.’ I don’t know what’s there.”

“No one does, though. And most spirits don’t end up haunting entire hotels, they just…pass through.”

He nods. “I guess I always had to stand out, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree.

He takes a couple of moments to compose himself. “I… I saw whatever the fuck comes next when my heart stopped. Bright light, all that shit. Fuckin’ near-death experience, except I was actually dead.”

“But you didn’t pass through?”

“I feel like my entire self just went ‘fuck this, I’m not done’. But I couldn’t come back, y’know?” He tugs at an errant curl. “I guess…fuck. I didn’t want to be forgotten. Wanted to know I could live on, maybe.”

“You don’t have to stay in the in-between to live on, Dieter. The work speaks for itself.”

He groans. “Some of it does. Never got to rebuild properly, though. Whole lotta shlock in there and one fuckin’ Oscar.”

You bring yourself to the ground beside the spectre. “That’s one Oscar more than most of us will ever have. And plenty of people who died before their time still live on in their work.”

“If you mention the 27 Club to me I will actually haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Noted.” You smile at him, cheered by the sight of a little grin on Dieter’s lips. “But you know it’s true.”

“I just never got the happy ending.”

He looks so sorrowful in that moment that you wish, more than anything, that you could hug him - make him flesh and blood, just for an instant again, so he could know the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Maybe the happy ending is off there in the hereafter.”

Dieter arches an eyebrow. “Do you actually believe that?”

You grin and chuckle. “Honestly? Fuck knows what’s after all this. I think I’d rather not know. But even if it’s just a bright light and bam, that’s it - you’ll live forever, Dieter Bravo.”

Tim is bed-headed and bleary-eyed when he opens his door to you at 6.30am, but he smiles widely when his vision focuses and he recognises your face.

“Have a seat, have a seat,” he gestures to the bed, before blushing a little. “Or I can move my clothes off the armchair, if you’d prefer.”

You perch on the edge of the mattress and shake your head. “It’s perfect here, thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I think Dieter’s…”

Funny how, in spite of doing this job and researching these phenomena for so many years, some cases just get to you. A sob catches in your throat as you try to find the words.

“I think the haunting problem is solved, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. “Your doula skills, right?”

You nod, tears still threatening to fall at any moment. His strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, keeping you safe as you cry against his broad chest.

“Please do feel free to stay for the next couple of days, of course.” The hotel manager is effusive and grateful as you wrap up the debriefing session later that morning, standing up to shake your and Tim’s hands in turn. “The rooms are booked, we won’t be reopening to other guests until we can redecorate the affected bedrooms. It’s on us, an extra little thank you for dealing with our, uh, friend.”

After lunch, the two of you walk through the property’s walled gardens and admire the various topiaries and water features. All the while, your promise to Dieter lingers at the forefront of your mind.

You said you would tell Tim how you felt, if Dieter let you help him. And he did. And now…

Fuck. And you wouldn’t put it past Dieter Bravo to somehow find his way back from the hereafter, just to haunt you out of spite.

You look over at Tim, who’s taking a photo of the hotel buildings from the gardens, and feel a surge of affection, mingled with anxiety. What if Dieter had got you right, but Tim wrong?

He catches your eye and grins at you. “Hey, come in for a photo?”

You pose beside an ornamental fountain, Tim concentrating as he sets up the shot. He beckons to you.

“How about a selfie, maybe?”

His arm snakes around your shoulders as he angles the phone towards the two of you and captures the moment: he, suit on but tie loosened, eyes twinkling; you, smiling broadly into the lens.

He brings you a gin and tonic, settling in beside you on the Chesterfield sofa and clinking his glass of whiskey to yours. In the last few days the ritual has become familiar and comforting; and with a jolt you worry that this might be the last time you enjoy it together.

Tim sips his drink in contented silence, watching the flames of the large, open fire.

“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes meet yours as you turn to face him. “I’m…”

Dieter Bravo is going to haunt you if you don’t do this.

What if this is your happy ending?

A large swig of G&T, to fortify your resolve.

“Um, I’ve really enjoyed this whole case, working with…being with you.”

Tim smiles softly. “Me too. It was nice to get the chance to get to know each other better.”

Another fortifying sip.

“I was wondering…uh. Shit. Maybe, when we get back, would you -”

Your voice dries up in your throat. The next words are barely more than a whisper.

“Would you maybe like to get a drink or dinner sometime? With me?”

For an instant, you can see that Tim is on the verge of brushing it off, of asking why you're being so strange about this, of saying that you regularly meet for coffee if you’re both free, talking about that diner you sometimes go to.

And then the realisation sinks in, and his face softens into a huge smile.

“I would love to take you for dinner. And drinks. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

He puts his glass down and moves closer to you. Your fingers reach for the end of his tie as your bodies shift ever closer, until he’s holding your face in his hands and his mouth is on yours, kissing you with warm intent.

You’re about to pull him down to the couch, his hands already snaking up under your blouse, when a stern cough makes the two of you jump.

The hotel’s only waiter casts a disapproving glance in your direction and shakes his head as he processes through the lounge to the main bar.

Your hand reaches for Tim’s and you lead him towards the hallway and the main staircase leading to the bedrooms.

The morning is grey and dreary, rain already pelting against the windowpanes as the dawn light struggles to break through the dark clouds. You press a kiss to Tim’s bare chest as you slip out of bed to use the bathroom, padding swiftly across the deep-pile carpet so as not to wake him.

The green robe hanging from the hook on the tiled wall of your bathroom is unmistakable, but even so you have to pause for a moment to be sure it’s real. You run your fingers over the textured weave and fabric, noting how (surprisingly) good it smells - faint whiff of weed notwithstanding.

Tim stirs as you close the bathroom door and walk back to the bed, blinking awake and greeting you with a delighted smile.

“Good morning. Nice robe.”

“A movie star gave it to me,” you explain, shedding the soft green garment and pulling Tim’s naked body to yours before he can ask any further questions.

(Sorry, Dieter. Love you.)

#rockford pi fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford AU #tim rockford #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu crack!fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedrostories #ladamedusoif writes #ladameecrit

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suzukiblu · 1 month ago

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this is a question that is not meant to come off as judgemental, and if it does i apologise and you don’t have to answer

for you, or anyone out there in the world if they see this,

What is the appeal of (the?) Omegaverse?

Ive never quite gotten it? And it might be the big bold orange, blue and white letters spelling out aroace, or being european, younger than most people who are knowledgeable about that particular genre of content (still 18+) and while I did get on the internet at 11, I didn’t start reading fanfic until 14-15

this is a long and rambly ask so I just want to clarify, this is a genuine question I would like an answer to, no matter how short and sweet, or long and convoluted it may be

It's all good, I don't mind getting questions! And, like, I've written a LOT of omegaverse, so it's a thoroughly relevant question to this blog, haha.

. . . and this definitely wound up long and convoluted. So like, yeah, we are SO gonna need a read-more here, friend. 😅

Obviously everyone's gonna have their own reasons for liking the genre, but as another (much older, I'm assuming) aroace, for me the appeal is the opportunity to use the tag "Fantasy Gender Roles". Like, there's other stuff there, def, but "Fantasy Gender Roles" is my favorite part. Omegaverse is a game where the rules are made-up and the points don't matter, and you can interpret and re-interpret the involved sexes and genders however the heck you wanna, and in fact are ENCOURAGED to. I also really like certain tropes that are common to the genre, like pack dynamics and breeding kink and having babies and feral behavior and courting/courting rituals, I just really enjoy playing with and reading about all of those.

Also, the worldbuilding. I get to do ✨GENDER-BASED WORLDBUILDING✨.

And obvi, like, some people are just into omegaverse for the kink/porn factor, which is totally fair, but personally I am here for ✨GENDER-BASED WORLDBUILDING✨. And then also the kink/porn. Generally speaking a recurring comment I've gotten from a lot of readers is "I literally hate omegaverse but I love yours", so a lot of my stuff is allegedly a decent jumping-on point for the genre if you're looking for that. Like, I'm not the only person who writes omegaverse the way I do, obviously, just I'm a pretty accessible one who's written a LOT of it.

( and in the event you DO want any jumping-on omegaverse recs from my stuff, I'mma just pop a few of them from various fandoms here. no DC-related ones 'cuz I don't have any of those currently on AO3, only scattered in my WIP tags, but hopefully something helpful will be in here. )

original fic

to the victor go the spoils - human omega OMC/dragon [ GENDER NOT FOUND ] OMC; 16.7k; explicit Fantasy AU. This one includes porn but honestly the heart of it is just one of those fairy tales where the protagonist is somehow both incredibly genre-savvy in their story and yet still a total fucking idiot about other people's feelings, and especially considering it's original fic, it is honestly one of the most popular things I've ever posted, hah.

The dragon arrived early in the morning, and by noon the entire village was in a panic in the town hall. No one in the village knew anything about dragons, aside from what they’d heard in fairy tales and stories, and the plans for dealing with it were about that level of sophisticated.

“We’re not sacrificing a virgin to the dragon,” Viktor said in exasperation.

“Well what would YOU do?!” the mayor demanded.

“I’m going to go talk to it,” Viktor said reasonably, and got up from his seat and went to do just that.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

does the pain feel better when I'm around? - beta!Sokka/omega!Zuko, beta!Sokka/beta!Suki, past alpha!Mai/omega!Zuko, polyamory; 3k; teen Societal dynamics-focused fic. Zuko goes into heat at the Western Air Temple immediately after the Boiling Rock happens and goes off to den down alone and stay out of everyone's way without realizing that the local betas are gonna lose their ever-lovin' MINDS about that.

“Cool,” he says. “You realize we’ve been looking for you for, like, two HOURS, right?”

“Why?” Zuko asks, sounding confused, which is kind of sad.

“Because the world is full of people who wanna kill you and you didn’t bother telling anyone where you were going?” Sokka says. “Obviously?”

“Oh.” Zuko falls silent. Sokka glances moonwards in supplication. Yue save him from dumb, dumb firebenders.

every act of communication is a miracle of translation - alpha!Mai/omega!Zuko; 5.7k; teen Post-series fic where Mai and Zuko are about to spend their first cycle together and they're both really awkward about working out how it should go. Not actually a sequel to "does the pain feel better when I'm around?", but you could definitely draw a relationship between 'em.

They leave the office, Mai pretending that all her senses aren’t full of Zuko’s warm, spicy scent, and he keeps looking worried. She wonders if it’s THIS he’s worried about, now that she’s thinking about it. They agreed they’d share their next cycles together, but again, they haven’t really talked about it.

They can talk about it now, Mai thinks.

Unfortunately, that means now they actually have to talk about it.

Overwatch

even if I do I don't, even if I could I won't - omega!Genji/beta!the-character-who-was-at-the-time-I-wrote-this-fic-known-as-McCree; 5.1k; explicit Blackwatch-era fic where Genji did not fill out his heat partner designation forms and "Fuck or Suffer Unspecified Health Consequences" is gonna make that a problem. Worldbuilding, assisted negotiation, a touch of workplace-influenced pack dynamics, and porn.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious, kid,” Gabe says. “Get back to work. And Shimada, call your heat partner and we’ll see you next week.”

Shimada’s shoulders tense. Gabe . . . pauses.

“Shimada,” he says slowly. “PLEASE tell me you have a heat partner on base.”

“I have a heat partner on base,” Shimada lies. Gabe and Jesse both stare at him, then Gabe calls up his file, takes one look at it, and starts cursing.

don't, don't, don't let's start (I've got a weak heart) - alpha!Genji/omega!the-character-who-was-at-the-time-I-wrote-this-fic-known-as-McCree; 17.3k; explicit Blackwatch-era fic about Genji and the character formerly known as McCree dealing with their complicated feelings about each other and also the cybernetics and trauma and physical disabilities that are fucking up their sex life, including ED.

“You busy?” he asks. Genji stares at him in bemusement, which is fair. Genji’s only ever busy when they’re on a mission or he’s in the middle of an upgrade. “Dumb question. My heat’s coming on, wanna do me a favor?”

“What favor?” Genji asks, still looking mystified. Jesse tries not to laugh at him.

“The obvious one,” he says meaningfully, tipping his hat back and raising his eyebrows at him. Genji looks no less mystified for a moment, then startles. “THERE we go."

Marvel Cinematic Universe

come hang (let's go out with a bang) - omega!Darcy Lewis/omega!Johnny Storm; 5k; teen Darcy almost dies again, tries to figure out which omega buys the courting gifts in an omega/omega relationship, and has her first date with a super-hot superhero.

“Was there traffic?” Jane asks.

“I have a date with Johnny Storm,” Darcy says.

“What?” Jane says.

“Oh, and I almost died again,” Darcy says, pulling out Jane’s papers for her. “But that’s kind of secondary.”

“WHAT?!”

pack up, don't stray (oh say say say) - alpha!Natasha + polyamory; 3.4k; teen Natasha collects a harem pack and Captain America is fucking difficult about it.

Natasha is an alpha on a mission, and that mission is simple and clear.

I said you're holding back, she said shut up and dance with me - alpha!Peggy/omega!Steve/omega!Bucky; 10.3k; mature Alternate timeline where Steve and Bucky don't "die" and they all run away from the States to get married and start a family. Illegal adoption and biokids and lowkey pack dynamics involving figuring out how to fold pups into their lives, oh my!! And also, they all get to dance.

“One alpha mating two omegas? Really, Steve?” Peggy asks, mouth quirking wryly. “What WOULD the newsreels say?”

“We’ll go to France,” Steve says. “No one will care in France.”

“I do love France,” she muses.

oh don't you dare hold back, just keep your eyes on me - alpha!Darcy/omega!Bucky, polyamory; 187.4k; explicit MY MAGNUM OPUS, MY WHITE WHALE, THE LITERAL REASON OMEGAVERSE TOOK OVER HALF MY BLOG FOR HALF MY STINT IN MCU FANDOM. I wanted a goddamn female alpha and I wanted that female alpha to be Darcy Lewis, and Bucky was my fave blorbo at the time so the inevitable happened. The inevitable happened for three and a half years and 187,430 words, to be more precise.

Darcy is thirty feet out of Stark-cum-Avengers Tower when she starts craving cinnamon rolls--the sticky-sweet iced-up old-fashioned kind, yummy and messy and dripping gooshy icing all over your mouth and hands and down your yuuuup, yup, that is a super, super fertile omega that she is smelling, holy SHIT is it ever.

“Jesus Christ,” she groans in frustration, then follows her alpha instincts (and, more easily and importantly, her NOSE) to go track them down. They’re in the middle of New York City; middle of the day or not, not checking on somebody who smells like THAT is, like, the ultimate dick move.

OKAY SELF THAT'S ENOUGH LINKS, WE MOVE ON NOW, haha.

I will also say, if you're interested in, like, gender-exploratory AU concepts, apiary genders might be more your thing and more easily accessible for you? It's a MUCH newer thing than omegaverse and really only has a few fics around, some of which are linked in the "inspired by" of that AO3 primer linked above, but the concept is a bit more strongly "hive"-based than a lot of omegaverse is "pack"-based, and also there's no physical differences from baseline. I've got a WIP or two going about apiary myself, actually, but I haven't gotten too far into them yet, alas. The only one I've posted anything from is this one Superbat one.

#anonymous #rintalk #omegaverse

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yukidragon · 7 months ago

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Okay so I'm trying really hard to get into SWWSDJ but there's so much lore not e en in the games I feel very much in over my head lol. Can you like...give a rundown? Or at least point me in the direction of where to start? I wanna write fic about the clown man damn it lol

I understand what you mean. When you fist enter into a fandom it can be pretty daunting, especially if you don't get a lot of the references and information that the bulk of the fandom takes as common knowledge.

A lot of the information we have about the lore for SWWSDJ comes from the various demos and teasers. However, the lore is being updated as the game is in development, as evidenced by the differences in each of the demos. Things have changed since its initial demo release, and will likely continue to change until the full game is released. SWWSDJ is very much a work in progress.

The most obvious place to start of course is the latest demo. You can check out a public release of it on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon over here.

There's a release that came after this one with a bit more content, but you'll have to become a member if you want to see it for yourself. Personally I think it's worth it for all the goodies that are regularly released on the patreon. If you've signed up, I highly recommend checking it out.

After that, I think it's good to look at the official webpages for SWWSDJ, including the official tumblr over on @sunny-day-jack-official. The tumblr page answers quite a number of questions from the fans, as well as some teasers. They've even made a listing of most of the other official webpages in this post here.

Another page that teases some juicy lore is the official profiles over on Toyhouse. Want to know the canon heights of the love interests and their birthdays? This is the place to get that info.

The official twitter page has been a place to pick up bits of lore since the beginning. There's plenty of teasers, profiles, and it gives a good sense of how things have evolved during development.

There are some teasers that are floating around posted by the original creator and others working on the project, but the rule of thumb is to take these with a pinch of salt. They're very good to inspire ideas and lore crafting, but if it's not on an official page like the twitter, tumblr, patreon, etc. then it's technically not canon.

Speaking of technically not canon, if you're interested in seeing my deep dives into my theories about the lore, AU crafting, and just gushing about the series in general, feel free to check out my rambles. I've done a lot of thinking about this series, and my opinions keep evolving as new developments release. I've also done quite a lot of writing as well.

I hope this can be helpful to get you started, and that you enjoy your time in this fandom. If you have more specific questions, feel free to toss them into my inbox. I might take a while to answer, but I appreciate every ask sent my way. I look forward to seeing your stories, as well as the stories of everyone else in this lovely fandom.💖

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask

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holybasementdweller · 10 days ago

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wanted to add my two cents because shipping discourse is just all over recently. Forgive me rambling a bit here. I have a lot of thoughts on this topic and would like to get them out there in some form.

Stop harassing CC's about their boundaries.

Would you go up to a random person whom you've never met before in your life, who has never met you either, and likely has no idea who you are, purely to ask them if you can draw/write/ship them with one of their co-workers?

No! It's a wildly uncomfortable question to a lot of people, it puts them on the spot, and some CC's may not care as long as they never see it. Now that the concept has been shoved in their face, they're forced to view the idea.

I feel like a large part of the issue is the divide between younger, newer fandom members and older, traditional ones. Primarily the concept that fan content is not intended for CCs, but for fans specifically. Most 'traditional' and older fandom participants follow this view because that's what fandom is. You get to make cool things, and ramble about different head cannons and ideas with your friends and maybe find other fans who become your friends along the way. Maybe you want to throw these characters you really like into this elaborate superhero AU, or draw them in costume, or explore relationship dynamics because it's fun and you get to ramble with fellow fans. It's called a fandom for a reason!

I'd like to clarify here that this post is not meant to target anyone in particular; it's going off a general trend I've noticed.

There's been an influx of people who create fan works or fanart that seems to be aimed more to gain clout or to be noticed by CCs. It's something they wanted to make, but is leaving the realm of "by fans, for fans," in a sense that it seems to have lost more of that "for fans." The work is then shoved at the CC more aggressively than if it was just for friends.

There's a reason that spaces like AO3 and Tumblr exist with such large fan communities- because the communities are meant for fans. It's all well and good when CC's decide to take a peek or participate in said fan spaces of their own volition. They're the ones making the choice to engage. It's NOT all well and good when someone, as a fan, is trying to make that choice FOR them by shoving fanworks at the CC begging for clarification on what is okay with them. You're not going to help anyone in that way. Fan spaces exist separately from the CC spaces for a reason. The CC is a person behind the screen who you don't know. The character or role they play in the series you watch? You might know just about everything there is to know about them!

If a CC has laid out a boundary that they aren't comfortable with X Y Z, then there's a really, really simple solution here. Don't show it to them.

Don't put it in main tags, don't tag them in the post, hell, block the CC so you know they won't be able to view something that makes them uncomfortable.

There's a lot of what comes across as almost puritanical virtue signaling I've seen lately, where people are talking about CC boundaries everywhere and trying to police fanwork. I will again refer you to the point above. The fanwork is not made for the CC. It is made for fans, and if it is something the CC isn't comfortable with, then don't go posting it where they might regularly look at things (such as main fanart/fanwork tags.)

Yes, there are CCs who are over here. Yes, they look through fan works. This app is primarily a fan-oriented space and it has tags that CC's (or anyone else!!) can block to avoid things they are uncomfortable with. Though at this point the few that are over here either were already gay dot com natives or have basically become one.

I may have gone a bit off my original topic but TL;DR:

KEEP FAN WORKS TO FAN SPACES, AND STOP HARASSING THE CC'S PLEASE. LET THEM EXIST IN PEACE.

#bit of a rant #ive been wanting to say something for a while #theres been others who said this far more eloquently than me #the block button is a tool everyone needs to learn to utilize more #peace and happiness are more achievable when you block people

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casual-praxis · 1 month ago

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“Probably no harmful side effects to this at all.”

Here’s Vio’s Slime Rancher AU design! I wasn’t entirely sure what I was working with when I went into this, but I think it turned out alright-ish in the end. ^~^’

He was supposed to have more of a scientist vibe, but I didn’t want to take too much inspiration from Viktor, so this is the route I went instead. He’s a little unhinged, but he’s keeping it together. Mostly.

More details about Vio's role in the AU below the cut if anyone is interested!

I touched on a few details already back in this post, but I've had a few more concepts in mind since then, so I'll go ahead and list them now so I don't forget later.

+ Vio was the first to arrive at the shared ranch and spent about a year alone before Shadow arrived. In that time, he explored a majority of the map on his own, save for the ruins and desert. He was actually in the process of figuring out how to get into the ruins when Shadow arrived, which sidetracked him a bit.

+ Due to being one of the first inhabitants of the Far, Far Range, Vio didn't have a lot of information to work off of with the Slimepedia, so he made his own guide for navigating the wilderness. Needing to discover more slimes was the main thing tripping him up with the ruin's Slime Gate.

+ Vio is the only one in the group to have a tongue piercing. It takes varying lengths of time for everyone to discover that fact though. Shadow noticed it the quickest.

+ Because of prolonged exposure to Quantum Slimes (one of which he may or may not have eaten, for science purposes), Vio's physical form occasionally glitches and/or becomes more transparent. Luckily, he doesn't seem to create "ghosts," but if left unchecked he does start to hear things in other realities.

These glitches aren't very frequent, and can be fixed by either inflicting pain or splashing water on him. He opts to inflict pain rather than get wet constantly, it's what his bracelet is secretly for.

+ As a side effect of his reality-warped perception, talking to Vio when he's less physically stable can net some interesting results. Mostly just jumbled or gibberish sentences and the occasional mixed topics. Something akin to, "the slime even the yet carrot gold, no, what?"

+ For at least a year and a half, Vio used his vacpack in his non-dominant hand simply because it wasn't designed for left-handed people. He wanted to wait for someone else to show up before attempting to tinker with it, just in case he broke it beyond repair.

Upon realizing Shadow, and later on, Red, were also both left-handed, he figured this might be an oversight to report to 7Zee after all.

+ Whenever someone has a question about the Slimepedia specifically, they go to Vio. He knows way too much about everything, to the point where he's actually a little burnt out on the whole exploring thing. He still runs experiments, but he's almost done with all he can think of doing out there.

+ At some point, Vio was able to talk with an alternate version of himself. Though the content of that conversation is unknown, he did become noticably warmer towards the others afterwards. The idea of becoming like that alternate self is haunting.

(Hint: alt-Vio found new test subjects to play with.)

+ His soft spot for Red and Shadow is more obvious, but he has his tells with Green and Blue as well.

He rather likes having objectives to focus on, and Green trusts him to handle the more difficult tasks, so he won't complain if Green bosses him around a little. But only a little.

With Blue, it's more subtle. He doesn't fight as hard as he used to over his lack of self-care. If Blue shows up at his lab demanding he take a break and eat food/nap/etc, he only pushes back a little before giving in. Otherwise Blue might try to manhandle him, and that's just embarrassing.

+ The little pouch on his leg is for medical supplies. Namely bandages, just in case his bracelet punctures skin and draws blood.

Bonus: Close-up details of Vio's eyes because the glitch effect there is almost always occurring, unlike his full-body one.

(The way I draw this will probably change in the future if I continue on with this AU, but it looks okay enough for now.)

#it’s the morally corrupt one!#slime rancher edition!!#he's a lil' buggy but that's okay #four swords #vio link #the other's are mentioned #rambling #slime rancher au

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perpetualexistence · 6 months ago

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Sea Monster AU: Agony of a Sea Witch

youtube

It sure has been a while since I've made a post for this AU, hasn't it? I know I said I would get this done in time for Mermay. But it's only technically two days away, so I consider this to be Mermay in my heart. That and it's Pride month so now this is just my contribution of incredibly toxic yaoi to Pride month!

What's with the song choice you might ask? And the title? Don't worry about it. Noah'll be fine. Probably.

But yeah this is like 3.5K words so I hope you guys enjoy my blood sacrifice Sea Monster AU update!

Content warnings: Murder mentions, toxic relationship, Alejandro being manipulative as per usual

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With his new body comes new risks. He can't afford to have his legs suddenly turn into tentacles on land. It'd be even worse if they transformed in front of Alejandro. So he's not leaving this cove until he's convinced he can leave it without instantly outing himself.

He starts with turning his legs to tentacles and back. A lot of it has to do with wanting them to transform. Which is good because otherwise this would be a pain.

As the adrenaline fades away, he's more cognizant of how weird it is to feel each leg split into four separate limbs, and then come together again. He shudders at the sensation, but over time he gets used to it.

It takes him all night until he's finally comfortable enough to make his way back home. He sneaks back in at one point only to be caught by an older sibling. They express their concerns about his recent behavior. He manages to get them off his back for now, but they're clearly still worried.

It's summer break at this point, so Noah has plenty of time to learn more magic. He lies to his family about taking summer classes so they don't question his time away. He tells the same lie to Alejandro so that Alejandro doesn't insist the two spend more time together.

That lie he's much more worried about. Not only because Alejandro is more volatile, but also because he knows that Alejandro is going to ask him about how his revenge went.

The intent lie Alejandro believes, so he won't have to explain why he did it. But he'll have to lie about how much he enjoyed it to cater to Alejandro.

Except it doesn't really feel like a lie. Because there's a part of Noah that knows he did rather enjoy it. When his mother asked him whether he was getting a job over the summer or staying at school, he almost admitted right there that he wouldn't need to get a job. Their biggest money problem is gone.

Noah has been considering a lot of people 'problems' now. It's easier to feed a problem to a ravenous sea creature than a person. He knows, on a logical level, that this is wrong and is a very concerning line of thought. But he's been through so much that he feels like he's done more than enough to earn it.

When he goes to talk with Alejandro, the large eel does pick up on his hesitation in taking pride in his kill. He's...surprisingly sympathetic towards Noah's reluctance. He admits that doing it in cold blood for the first time hits a lot harder than simply watching it. It's not something for the faint of heart.

It's why Alejandro was so happy that Noah was willing to try it out. Once you get over the morality of it, it's such a delightful, vindicating experience. Alejandro would love to be there one day to witness Noah finally let loose. Noah deserves it, truly. However, Alejandro won't force it. He's not that crude. If Noah does want to go further down the path of might then Alejandro will be happy to guide him along. Until then, Noah can take his time with it.

Noah leaves that conversation with zero suspicions from Alejandro, but so many questions. The way Alejandro phrased it was oddly sweet and felt like an earnest attempt to comfort him. But it was still encouraging murder. Even if it was arguably justified. And satisfying.

At least it made it clear that shrinking Alejandro was the only way to go. Once he was less dangerous, Noah could figure out what to do with him after.

But first of all he's got to figure out this new body of his. Knowing how to switch between human to cecaelia won't mean anything if his new tentacles keep slapping him in the face every time he tries to use them. Or using suckers to attach onto rocks when he did not mean for them to get adhesive. The retractable fangs are rather annoying since he keeps cutting his tongue with them. Not to mention the excessive amount of saliva that seems to come with it.

The most difficult part is learning how to operate eight lower limbs instead of two. It's also the most exhausting. Chef's training had done little to improve his endurance. Even worse since he's underwater where his whole body feels sluggish.

Slowly but surely, he starts getting better at swimming with his tentacles. He doesn't have the finest control over them, but he can swim with them and go in the direction he actually wants to go in. He isn't sticking to everything he touches with his tentacles, either. He considers that progress.

He'd still like to know how being an octopus was supposed to protect him from a giant electric eel. Sure, he can swim better now. That doesn't do much against someone who can easily outpace him. Or just zap him.

He knows the basics about octopi. He knows they can make ink clouds to confuse their enemies. Which might work for about five seconds until Alejandro goes around the small cloud. The more useful thing is the ability to camouflage. It'd only work when standing still. But if the ritual to shrink Alejandro means he has to go out to open waters, he NEEDS a way to hide himself. He wouldn't be able to afford Alejandro catching him collecting something, or worse, with tentacles.

Through trial and error, Noah finds out that his whole body can go invisible, not just his tentacles. All the better for him. He anchors his ability to camouflage with his desire to disappear. It's an easy feeling to pull up. He usually wants to stay out of most interactions, and his desire to get away from all of this is enough to get him invisible. The harder part is stopping it. Because it means letting go of the feeling. Noah can't really calm down to let go of it because Alejandro has him on high alert at all times. He just forces himself to think of something else, and it works.

All of this is just taking more time away from preparing the ritual. He hasn't even had the chance to read over it properly. He very badly wants to jump the gun, but that'll risk getting caught in a body he can barely control. But being unprepared for the ritual, and the lives it'll probably require given this book's track record so far, is also a huge risk. And during all of this, he's still going on hunts with Alejandro. Risks all around, and Noah feels like he's this close to snapping completely when he's pulled in different directions.

So when Owen sends him a text asking if he wants to hang out over the summer? You know what? Sure. Why not?

Noah deserves a distraction from all the things he's putting himself through. Is this distraction also risky? Yes. But it's not as if he's going to go out in the water with Owen. There's plenty to do in this incredibly isolated town that only advertises its incredibly visible beaches with the extrovert who has constantly been inviting him to going to another yacht party in Alejandro's hunting grounds.

God Owen would be so screwed if Noah wasn't setting up Alejandro's menu.

At least Owen doesn't push so much into what's going on in Noah's life once Noah makes it clear that's not happening. It's nice to actually have the ability to say no. Not the illusion of choice Alejandro brings. It's easier to forget all the things he's done when the most he has to worry with Owen is avoiding a nose milkshake.

Well, there is the fact that Owen is also still insisting on Noah coming along to group hangouts. More people means more lies and more suspicion. But it also means more chance to be in the background conversation. Not do anything.

Noah misses not having to do anything. So against his better judgement, he says yes.

He lets himself get swept into the hurricane that is Owen, Eva, and Izzy. He appreciates Eva not asking any questions from him and just letting him exist. Plus watching her go off on people is fun. Izzy, for all the rabid energy she brings, is more than happy to make all the choices for what they're going to do. He's more than happy to just let her. Owen's both enabling all the chaos and making sure everyone's doing great. He doesn't question Noah wearing a scarf during the humid, sweltering summer. He just scoops Noah up when the heat exhaustion starts getting to him.

And Noah? He's just there. There's no expectations that he does anything. He snarks and they don't complain about his personality.

It's such a nice break from all the murder and deceit. It takes away from the time he could be spending to solve this problem. But if he doesn't give himself this he's pretty sure something's going to snap inside of him. So he fits it in between the magic and the hunting and the hanging out with Alejandro that the eel still insists on.

Hanging out with Alejandro does make hunting more bearable. And Alejandro more bearable. Alejandro still enjoys reading with Noah and bringing him smaller treasures.

Still, now that Noah's started to hang out with other people, he can how conditional spending time with Alejandro is. There's a stark contrast between being with people who could kill you on accident with their shenanigans, and being with someone who would kill you on purpose for trying to pull shenanigans.

It nags at him. Constantly. He doesn't want it to. He wants to relax for once in his life. He can't have that with Alejandro like this. He needs to stop distracting himself. No matter the cost, he has to go through with this. He's done too much now. He just has to keep playing this game a little longer.

He doesn't realize Alejandro's picked up on anything until they're on their way back from a hunt.

The conversation started off simple enough. Noah was making snarks about the people Alejandro had thrown into his gullet. They were long past having any sanctity for the dead.

Alejandro was pushing the boat that was carrying Noah along...and then he began to slow to a stop. They were nowhere near the shoreline. It was just open waters.

Noah asks what's going on. He's trying to sound as casual as possible. Maybe if he keeps faking it, he'll actually begin to calm down.

Alejandro promises it's nothing major, really. It's about a few things that have been bothering him, that's all. He's noticed some new things about Noah.

At first Alejandro thought they were great changes. He does find Noah's scarf cute, and he's very fond of Noah's new interest in Alejandro's passions.

But he's also noticed that their conversations have started to become more awkward. Like Noah isn't completely there for the conversation. He's just curious about what could be on Noah's mind.

Noah's immediately concerned as he now has to come up for an answer for this. It's just him thinking about school, that's all! And the whole murder thing! Giving that serious thought. That's the only thing on his mind.

Alejandro smiles at Noah. He wants to believe Noah. He does. But there's one other thing that's bothering him.

Noah's scent.

The day after Noah came back from his first kill, there was something new to it. Something charged. And salty?

It's very strange. Alejandro was willing to be patient for an answer from Noah. To an extent. The real problem, though, are the newest scents on Noah. They're all human scents. From different people.

Noah would have to be especially close with these humans for an especially long time for their scents to intermingle. Yet Noah hasn't mentioned anything about other humans. Given what happened the last time Noah was getting close with other humans, Alejandro is very interested in knowing what explanation Noah has for this.

Noah knew he shouldn't have let Owen bear hug him so much. Or let Eva carry him around no matter how convenient it was. Or let Izzy constantly invade his personal space. Even though the only way that he could have stopped any of them would have been not to be near them at all.

This was on him, really. For letting himself get distracted. Now he has to figure out what to tell Alejandro. If he tells the truth, he'll be dooming his friends. Alejandro will force him to make an impossible choice. It's what he always does.

He's racking his brain for something, anything to get him out of this mess. Alejandro is waiting for an answer. He does not want to be in this situation. He would give anything to get out of this situation. To just disappear.

"Que es esto?"

Noah looks up to see Alejandro looking down at him. There's some mix of confusion, horror, and anger in his eyes. It's worrying since Noah hasn't given a response yet. His eyes are also darting around Noah. Around?

Noah brings his gaze back down to the boat to figure out what Alejandro is looking at.

Then he looks down to realize that on instinct, he's camouflaged with the ship.

Oh.

No.

Noah's body acts before he can think twice about it. He jumps into the water. Staying on that boat would be a death sentence. At least this way he has a chance at getting away and figuring out SOMETHING.

He knows Alejandro is calling for him and he doesn't care. He's never transformed while invisible and he doesn't want to take any chances now. He's barely gotten any distance until he feels the hairs on his arms raise.

Invisibility means nothing to electrolocation.

Noah is grabbed and is pushed away from the surface. Noah lets out a shout as air bubbles escape him. He switches to using his gills since Alejandro wouldn't notice those anyways. He has a clear view of the fury on Alejandro's face as they swim deeper.

Alejandro demands an answer NOW. He won't return Noah to the surface until Noah shows himself and agrees to explain. Alejandro will keep him here until he drowns if he must. Because he needs to know how Noah knows magic.

Noah thrashes as he tries to get out of Alejandro's vice-like grip. Alejandro doesn't know about the gills, but he'll figure it out eventually. The most he can do is buy himself some time. He's terrible with coming up with plans on the spot but he's got no choice to learn through trial by fire.

He refuses to respond. Speaking would expose his gills. He can hide somewhere and wait Alejandro out if Alejandro thinks he needs to go to the surface for air.

Alejandro is still demanding an answer. How does Noah know magic? That would explain the new scent, but not where Noah got it from. Alejandro has scoured these waters thoroughly. He's the only sea creature here.

So how? And why? They've been having such a good time together. Alejandro didn't even know he could enjoy spending time with a human. Yet he waited with bated breath for Noah's visits. He had been looking for every excuse to keep Noah alive when he fully recovered from his journey here.

Then, when Noah suggested these hunts-

"What?" Noah asked. Holding his cards to his chest be damned. He could NOT let Alejandro try to make Noah out to be the bad guy.

"When you suggested the hunts." Alejandro repeated. He seemed too agitated to even notice that Noah shouldn't be able to speak underwater.

"I didn't suggest them! I never asked for this! You made it clear it was help you or die!"

"I never said you had to help me. I only said you had to give me a reason to let you live."

And no. No, that's not how that worked. That can't have been how that worked. Noah can remember the threat on his life.

"You made the offer to help me hunt all on your own. You could've offered only to spread my legacy and I would've accepted it. You chose to be just as vicious as me. And I was so delighted that you chose me over your own kind."

That's not how that happened. Because if it was, then Noah could have avoided all of this. If it was, then Noah might have been able to reason with Alejandro from the beginning. Noah wouldn't have any blood on his hands. He would still be a good person. Instead of whatever he is now.

It takes more effort than he dares to admit to keep his voice flat. "If it was a choice this whole time, then why didn't you tell me?"

Alejandro paused for a moment. He looked like he wanted to search for Noah's expression. There was none to give with the camouflage. "I thought you'd be happier this way."

How dare Alejandro? How dare Alejandro?

He can't stack the cards against Noah and then blame Noah for not playing the game right. He can't say Noah could have communicated better when he was the one who made Noah feel as if he couldn't say anything at all.

Months of pent up aggravation are bubbling to the surface. He wants Alejandro to hurt. He wants Alejandro to bleed. It's the only way this monster will understand the extent of what he's done to Noah.

Noah feels the transformation happen, and he welcomes it. He's revealed as legs become tentacles. The blue rings on his tentacles glow bright and fierce. He can feel Alejandro struggle to re-adjust his grip. Alejandro is transfixed by the glowing rings. Good.

He uses his tentacles to push at Alejandro's hand to give him room to escape the grip. It's working somewhat. It gives him enough room to sink fangs deep into Alejandro's finger. This was for every time the damnable thing had ruffled his hair. Every time he was given a playful pet or a light jab. Every agonizing moment of patronizing.

He can taste when he pierces through the skin. He keeps going. As hard as he can. Noah's saliva is pouring into the open wound. It's small, but it's something.

Alejandro shouts in pain but doesn't let go. Noah can see the water around Alejandro's tail crackling with frustrated electricity.

Then, Alejandro's grip loosens. Noah bursts out of it. Finally, his sacrifice was good for SOMETHING. He tries to swim away from Alejandro's range.

Alejandro uses the same hand as before to block Noah's escape and bring him back to face the merfolk. Noah is expecting to be squeezed again and tries to get off of Alejandro's palm before it happens.

He does escape. Alejandro's hand closes around where Noah had just been a couple of seconds ago. Alejandro looks...confused. His hand is trembling. He reaches for Noah again, but the hand is slower this time. Much easier to avoid.

"What...what did you do to me?" Alejandro asked.

Noah's rage is marred with confusion. Alejandro's arm slowly falls to the side. Limp.

That's when it clicks for Noah. He'd never looked up the exact species of octopus he was. He'd been far too preoccupied with other matters, and he thought it would never come up. Yet here he was, with glowing blue rings and a bite chockfull of saliva.

Except it was never saliva. It was venom. And now they're both finding out how deadly Noah had made himself.

The fear in Alejandro's eyes is satisfying. Noah's finally managed to turn the tables on him. Even if he never wanted it like this. The plan had never been to kill Alejandro. Just to contain him. Alejandro would have killed him if he thought he had to. So whatever's about to happen is just going to happen.

So long as he keeps telling himself this, he can ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

He can't ignore the gray mass of flesh barreling towards him.

Of course.

Noah should have realized it was always going to end like this. He's not going to be fast enough to outswim that tail. He's been martyring himself this whole time. Might as well go all the way. At least the few people he cares about will be safe from his stupid, horrible mistake.

His last thought is wondering if there ever was a way this could have ended differently.

The tail hits him. Electricity courses through his body.

He screams, and it goes dark.

(For all of you curious, Noah's a blue-ringed octopus! I would have shared a picture earlier, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise in case you knew about it already. Here is a lovely little picture of an incredibly deadly octopus the size of a golfball that can kill a human in minutes!

#sea monster au #total drama au #total drama #total drama noah #td noah #total drama alejandro #td alejandro #td alenoah #total drama alenoah #alenoah #giant/tiny #noah td #alejandro burromuerto #horror au #tw toxic relationship #cw toxic relationship #total drama horror au #td horror au

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kimberlygbart · 19 days ago

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Role Swap AU Masterpost

If you're old enough in my blog then you remember [this]

Yeah in the end I never even updated that, it's almost a year since the mod was actually released but hey I'm here!

This also might be the last post regarding the AU. It's over fr, I've reached my dream in wanting to release a mod of it and getting fanart sooo yay, the AU is done for, but dw! I've kept Whitmore, turned him into an OC.

If I don't forget to post again lol Y'all will see more of him!

Anyways here is the mod!!!

Above it's all art I've made for it alongside a GIF :P

And below the cut, you will find more links, such as gameplay and all the music! INCLUDING the full-ass complete lore of the AU!

youtube

ya that's right!! Community game played my game ain't that crazy! Okay so here is all you need to know:

This is an AU where Whitty (now who's referred as Whitmore as his last name only) and Updike (Gabriel in this AU, he doesn't know his last name or anything since he was abandoned) switch places. ONLY they do in this AU, all others stay the same. Conrad Whitmore was raised by The Greater Good (similar concept to SCP) after being found in abandoned and crashed down lab as a doomsday experiment. TGG saw him as an useful tool Being fed well and trained since childhood, he's naturally taller and bigger than average Whitty. Also more tired. Just because Conrad had a good childhood doesn't mean he was free of trauma btw ☝ He had many experiments done on him such as vivisectomy, endoscopy and multiple blood tests and even organ removals, however he was often manipulated by TGG into doing this of free will, ever since as a kid.

For those who ask "well what about Carol? Does she still date the Whitty from this universe?" yes she did! Hex and Carol are/were still Conrad's closest people he has had in his life But Carol eventually broke up with Conrad once she learnt the true nature of his job. A big rift developes between them, with her trying to desperately convince him TGG is not the better solution it claims to be, while Conrad defends it with his life for is the only thing he knows. Their fights escalate a lot, until she visits him in his office. Needless to say it didn't go well.

I have an animatic as well! In a resume, their (verbal) fights gets him so agitated, he enters his ballistic stage where he hasn't felt that in years besides while a kid. And during his rage he pulls the trigger while Carol calls him names (monster being one). TGG covers the crime, the lyrics are important btw!

youtube

This all happened when Conrad was 21, Carol's death is tragic enough he enter a depressive episode + is taken back to his 'original bunker house' (where he was raised) by TGG for 5 years for reevaluation. Hex is the only one who knows what happened because Conrad told him. That's pretty much the lore? I think? UH anywasy tldr I became so attached to Conrad I've scrapped the 'swap' alternate reality of it and turned him into Whitty's twin brother (and Carol isn't dead there).

Also out of respect for Sock.Clip, Gabriel, or TGG no longer exists, I'm just dumping this here to be registered in my tumblr since it was the only social media I never uploaded the lore of my AU completely. But yes, swap whitty is fully dead, ofc ppl can make art for it duh, I just mean I won't be making content of it ever again, Conrad instead is being brought to the 'original' fnf world, and will be currently Whitty's twin, but his lore or story has been completely rebooted.

Thank you for reading all this damn ur a true homie!!!

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lorablackmane · 9 months ago

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It's time for ghosts y'all!! I wanted to make this post once I finished a chapter or 2 of my AU's fic, but I've talked about these lil fuckers so much w/ Teal in the past month I figured it might be best to make a post b4 that so ppl aren't confused in the future.

The premise of this AU is after the night after the King is defeated, everyone is celebrating! ...Until odd things start to appear in the House. A giant bloodsplatter in the Death Corridor and a trail of blood leading from it to the King's room. A shattered shelf and knocked over pot missing it's contents in the kitchen. A frozen body near the storage room.

One by one, ghosts created from the breaking points of Siffrin's wish start to appear, and they're here to stay! For better... or for worse.

Below is how each ghost was made, their wishcraft's scent (I put too much thought into this info so I'm adding it), and a bit about them!

(Cw for the ghost's stories below: death, suicide, allergy attack)

The Stoned - Created in Act 1 - Smells like Copper and Sugar

(This one will get a proper ref later bc this doesn't fully capture him)

Despite their looks, The Stoned is the calmest out of all of them, even though their death was one of the most painful. It happened so quickly and also messed up enough that the Wishcraft couldn't fix most of their body after the boulder disappears... so he can't feel pain anymore. He can't really feel much honestly there's... there isn't many nerves to feel with anymore. The additional lack of bones is a detriment to their ability to move, making them have to crawl around and continuously shift so they won't lose their balance until they get items like crutches and a wheelchair to help.

The Stoned doesn't know the horrors of the House and so are innocent in a way even Bonnie isn't. They never even it made it to the second half of the first floor! So a lot of the things the others talk about fly over their head. The others don't leave them out of talks about the House though! ...Not that the Stoned... really speaks - but it's the thought that counts!! They have their buddy to speak for them, anyway.

Just like how Loop's Wishcraft made their body unique, each ghost has their own lil quirk due to the Wishcraft that powers their bodies. The Stoned has the oddest one: due to their lack of most their bones their body is almost completely powered by Wishcraft that is activated by the air he breathes in. Because of this, he can actually almost flatten himself by releasing all the air inside themself, and will stay that way until he breathes back in. He can't move like that, but it does sometimes come in handy - by releasing some instead of all the air they can make themself slightly more compact to get into tight places!

The Silent - Created in Act 2 - Smells like Saltwater Taffy

The Silent is a fearful one, they remember the pain the House offers but cannot feel it. They only truly remember up to Bonnie accidentally pushing them, however they know so much more. Each time Siffrin touched a tear he gave them the memories of that run, but to the Silent it was less like a memory and more like watching a play. Detached from themself... yet the fear is there. They aren't like Stone who only remembers his death, they know the blessing was a curse wrapped in a pretty bow and the thought that what they see is only a fragment of the loops Siffrin went through... it makes them retreat into themself, especially bc they see their existence as unneeded bc well... Siffrin already exists. They don't need another to bother them.

It's much easier to stay put, to let them become one with the House as the tears intended. They don't need to breathe, to eat, or anything really so it's quite easy for them to do so! For them to just... exist. Hiding in plain sight, like the books hidden on shelves of the House written in their mother tongue. So this is where they stay, until one day maybe people can hear them speak once more. They do occasionally move, mostly when they hear that the Housemaiden's need the area they're in, but only when they're certain no one is looking.

When it comes to fight, flight, or freeze they choose freeze every time... which isn't helped by the quirk of their body's Wishcraft. The Silent can freeze anything up to the size of a medium bowl if they hold it for long enough. The Unseen will sometimes use this to pull pranks on people who upset them, stealing their umbrellas and placing them in The Silent's hold. They find this very petty... but they don't like moving bc a Housemaiden might see them and it is funny so they don't stop the two from doing so.

The Unseen(Left) - Created in Act 3 - Smells like Candied Pineapples

The left one is similar in personality to the Stoned as when they were created Siffrin knews that something was wrong, but still had hope that things were okay. They are an odd one: they see their accidental death as nothing in the grand scheme of things considering how many deaths already happened before them. If anything, he sees his death as a vital piece of showing their love to their family oddly enough! His memory is spotty, but the answer to Bonnie's question is forever engraved upon their skin so none of them will ever forget (even if most cannot see them anymore except outta the corner of their eye). There is a great sorrow in them though, after meeting their counterpart and discovering that there was so much pain afterwards - that like them this fact is engraved into their counterpart... but they'll stay with them, and maybe... they can bring some joy back to the right.

They help keep their counterpart's pranks in check, as unlike the right left remembers how fragile people are and doesn't see them as actors or dolls. Most of the pranks they plan are leaving lil letters with terrible puns around the House. Like you go into the bathroom, there's a letter tied to the handle of the sink. You open it and it says something like, "water you doin, handsome?" Stupid stuff like that, that makes them feel like the funnyjokespunperson they were before everything. A way to reclaim what the loops took from them both.

The Lonely - Created in Act 3 - Smells of Sugar and Moldy Cloth

This ghost is the culmination of so, so many fragments Siffrin left in between those walls. For a long time they did not remember anything besides the motions to get to the King, yet they could never defeat him. They couldn't survive his major attack, no matter what they did. It feels like at one point he could though... wasn't there a way? It isn't until the ghost event that they remember what they lost and while it felt absolute euphoria in that moment, after that the loneliness became soul crushing. The hunger for someone, anyone to be with them hurt so much! ...It made them remember why they forgot their family the first time.

The Lonely's quirk unlike most of the others isn't seared on their skin. No, the Lonely's ability is actually only really useful for dealing with The Unseen - anytime one of the others is in danger or about to do something dangerous they sense it. The Vengeful is constantly ringing this mental alarm, but it can't do anything to help due to it constantly moving so they don't even try with them. The Unseen though, it is often seen dragging them by the ears before they do something like unleash a barrel full of marbles in a hallway.

The Vengeful - Created in Act 4 - Smells of Steel, Salt, and Sugar

It is the culmination of the King's cruelty and Siffrin's agony, a beast made of anger, pain, and sorrow in equal measures. It hates the King both bc Siffrin did and bc it sees him at fault for it's creation as it doesn't know of Wishcraft as it was created right on the line between 3 and 4. That is why it tore his right hand off and stole the gauntlet upon it - a punishment for the action that created it and a trophy for it to wear as proof that, even after such a horrid deed, he didn't win. It runs away from the House and it's former family because of this memory - it cannot confront the people it feels it failed even with the knowledge they survived, that it's sin wasn't permanent. In it's eyes it will always exist. It's eye will sometimes gleam with the same shade as the one that appeared when the world was breaking!

The Vengeful is the only ghost no one is completely sure the location of due to it throwing itself out of the first available window after completing it's mission. It mostly stays in forests or caverns where it can easily hide, only going near towns if someone reminds it of the King. Once it has dealt with said person however it views it needs to, mostly by scaring them, it returns to it's current hiding spot. The Vengeful is a lonely one, but it's not ready to be near people for long periods of time. It's afraid that due to how it was created it'll bring bad luck to those it spends too much time with - how couldn't it? It was created from a person trapped in the middle of an hourglass until they drowned in the golden sands and by a man who saw his will as absolute, who caused so much agony. One day, though, it'll realize that isn't true... but it'll be quite a while.

The Unseen(Right) - Created in Act 4 - Smells like Steel and Sugar

This one is the closest in personality to Loop. It mocks even though it has no voice, they play with the people around it to remind themself they're real. Without the left the right Unseen would be much more dangerous as it is so desensitized to death they have forgotten what is actually dangerous and so some of their mischief has to be tempered by the left one to avoid killing those around them. For a very long time they view others, besides left, as merely actors in a similar vein as Loop, only referring to others via titles if it needs to interact with anyone and left doesn't control the writing pen. As time passes this trait slowly disappears, as the days show more changes like rain upon the rooftops or snow in the gardens, things it long forgot.

Together with their counterpart The Unseen are the ones who were left behind through actions seen as small, but were greater than thought. The ones who cannot be seen without drastically changing the views of ones most loved by the person they once were. And so they stay hidden from sight by their own Wishcraft... but that is a lonely way to live they discovered. The two of them alone cannot satiate their need 4 company. And so they do little things that are easily noticed so they can be seen without breaking their rule: walking around with open, stolen umbrellas or pulling little pranks.

Most Housemaiden's don't talk to them, because they never get an answer they assume they don't like talking. This isn't the case though they cannot tell them that... neither can speak. The left's throat is closed up and the right's is... well u can probably guess why theirs wouldn't work even if they had a mouth to speak with. The Lonely though does speak to them often - it has a chalkboard in the room it lives in inside the House for them to write lil questions or answers on.

#lbwriting #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat au #Echoes of Loops AU #love these critters so much #they cause so many issues u have no idea #A lot of philosophy scholars will b having a field day exploring the questions these ghosts bring to Vaugarde #Bc that ghost might b committing blasphemy but does it count if they're not in ur religion? Can ghosts even commit blasphemy?#feel free to ask about them btw! I love talking about them if this very long post wasn't any indication

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violetsiren90 · 9 months ago

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All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~7k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; depictions of cancer and its treatment; secondhand embarrassment; awkward situations; soulmate skinship; loss of consciousness; dudes dude-broing a bit lol; mentions of minor character death (in past); cursing; chemo therapy and its symptoms; nausea and vomiting; characters eat meals; Reader is starting to grapple with some difficult feelings; Hybe kinda sorta depicted as being collective assholes in responding to this situation (gonna be a theme, guys)

Author's Note: Here comes part two! I know this is months coming (again), but I've finally found my stride with writing and work. I had this mostly done, and then redid some parts and finished editing, and well...I just hope you all enjoy it! My hope is to post part three in two weeks - I really want to get into a groove with plot progression here!

There is a lot of content in this chapter about medical procedures and treatment. I tried my best to represent these as accurately as possible with what information I could acquire, but if there are any misrepresentations, great or small, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Thank you again to all who have stuck with this story! I continue to be blown away by how much love you have all showered upon it, and I'm so excited to walk the path I intend for these two and have you all along for the ride!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or an ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens To the fall of ancient leafless rain, To feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned." ~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

Namjoon's labs had come back with even more promising numbers. A radiology scan had shown no shrinkage in his tumors, but the doctors commented that these were early days, and that the effects of the bond might even be keeping them from inflaming due to the chemo. You had watched him, smiling as the doctor reviewed the result, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Your soulmate was on the road to recovery.

Nurse Cha quickly checked both of you over before initiating another skinship session.

"I saw you out on the grounds earlier, and for the first time in weeks," she said, shooting Namjoon an approving grin. "Keep that up. He needs sunlight and fresh air," she remarked to you, flustering you even as you nodded in agreement.

Why was she telling you that? Were you his keeper?

Actually, you supposed, in fact, you were.

You peeked back up at him and found him regarding you with a small, amused smile, which disconcerted you further. You shook your head, shooting him an eye-roll as you made your way into the bathroom to disrobe.

After your first few experiences with skinship, you had asked Matt to acquire you some sporty, conservative sports bra and boy-short sets, and you slipped into one, pulling a hospital gown over it. After the way your conversation with Hyung-seo had unfolded you were glad to have them - the practical underwear felt far less intimate and flirty than your typical bras and panties, giving you much more peace of mind.

As you left the bathroom and made your way back to Namjoon's half of the suite, you noticed him sitting on top of the covers, long legs stretched out in front of him, in nothing but a black tee and blue boxers. He had a drip attached to a tube that ran under his shirt. When Nurse Cha glanced up from her touchscreen tablet to see you approaching, she waved her hand for you to come around to the other side of the bed, which had been adjusted to accommodate Namjoon's upright position.

"We’re going to try this sitting up today," she explained as she typed. "He's on a chemo drip right now, and the doctor wants to see if the bond will help ease the nausea and some of the other side effects. I heard you just had a nice lunch, so it would be wonderful if Namjoon could hang onto his."

She shot him a rueful smirk and he let out a chuckle. You smiled in turn and nodded as you slipped off your hospital gown and draped it over the end of the bed. You glanced up at Namjoon who had cast his eyes down at his hands, folded in his lap. The huge apparatus was lower than usual, so you slipped rather easily into it and against Namjoon's side. He raised an arm to drape over your shoulders and you settled against him, pressing your bare leg against his. It was comical how much shorter yours were, but you could only think of that for a fraction of a second as every other thought in your mind melted at the feeling of the man beside you.

Butter. Warm, melted butter. It was as if every single muscle group in your body had suddenly released every bit of tension it had been holding. So many sensations at once, but this was the one you felt like leaning into at the moment. You felt like collapsing against him.

He sighed deeply through his nose. Yeah, you felt that on a spiritual level. Mmh.

Your melty, bond-induced reverie was broken, however, by a dissatisfied noise from Nurse Cha as she stepped toward the bed. You looked up to find her expression matched her tone.

"You're not really getting much contact," she said, scanning her eyes over everywhere you touched...and didn't.

You raised your arms slightly and a bit uselessly. You felt Namjoon lean forward.

"Should I...like..." you looked to her for direction, but she was already in motion.

She grabbed your arm, guiding you off the bed and motioned for Namjoon to scoot back to the middle. She said something to Namjoon in Korean and suddenly he was tugging his shirt over his head. You felt your cheeks getting hot. Social norms had not prepared you for this amount of casual nudity. You stood there, eyes glued to Nurse Cha, hugging your arms over your middle and hoping that Namjoon was playing his usual blessed game of "look anywhere but soulmate". The nurse took your arm again and guided you back toward your previous perch.

"Sit between his legs and lean back against his chest," she instructed, nudging you to join him.

You looked up at Namjoon. His face looked like you felt. And then it was just too much. You were standing in a hospital in South Korea in your underwear being asked to sit in a practically naked celebrity's lap so that he wouldn't die.

You busted out laughing.

Nurse Cha jumped, surprise clear in her features as she regarded you.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, bending over to support yourself against the bed as you continued to chuckle, "This is just..."

You snorted. Mortified but still attempting to swallow your giggles you clapped a hand over your mouth and looked up at Namjoon whose dimples were out and whose shoulders were shaking with his own silent amusement. Nurse Cha's lips curved up a bit to one side, but her narrowed eyes spoke of far less hilarity felt.

"Here's the thing," you said, turning to the nurse while still biting back your laughter, "Namjoon is spoken for, and...well...I have a pretty nice ass."

The nurse's eyes widened.

You were probably being really impolite. That would have been borderline in the States. You weren't sure about here, but you felt like that might have broken some unspoken rules. Or, maybe spoken ones because there were a lot of formalities, you were learning. But you had reached your limit with all this. The awkwardness levels were at maximum, and you were gonna cope the only way you knew how - with humor.

When you hazarded a look at your soulmate, he had drawn his knees up, grabbing them with his hands, his head dropped between them and his shoulders shaking as he badly repressed laughter of his own. You could see those dimples again. They were even deeper than before.

"We need to get maximum skin-to-skin contact during these sessions," Nurse Cha insisted indignantly, clearly a bit flustered.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you offered her a contrite smile as you rocked back on your feet.

"Ah!" Namjoon drew your attention as he pointed behind you. "Throw me that pillow?"

You grabbed the little green cushion from the corner of the couch and tossed it to him. He lowered his legs and placed it over his lap.

"How's that?" he asked with a closed-lip smirk.

You gave him a thumbs up and clambered back onto the bed to situate yourself between his legs. You looked back over at Nurse Cha.

"Better?"

She raised a brow as she handed you a blanket. You thanked her quietly and cleared your throat as you fanned it out over your legs and Namjoon's, tucking it up to your waist. The nurse checked Namjoon's vitals and said that she would return in an hour to take him off the drip.

You sank back tentatively against your soulmate's chest, careful to avoid the little port below his sternum. There it was again. Butter.

Somewhere above and behind you, Namjoon chuckled. You smiled knowingly.

"What?" you asked indignantly.

"Did you see her face when you said that?"

You shrugged against him.

"Hey, it's true!" you insisted.

"Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you," he murmured.

You could hear that he was still smiling, but he sounded serious all the same. You let your head fall back.

"Honestly, I felt bad for you," you huffed in another laugh before sobering. "And, thank you," you turned, casting your eyes up over your shoulder, "For always being so respectful. It's made this a lot easier."

"Oh," Namjoon responded softly, "Of course."

You looked at his arms resting at his sides and thought of what Nurse Cha had said. You slowly picked up his hands in yours, raising them slightly.

"May I put them around me? For more contact," you asked.

You asked it boldly, but you felt shy. You wanted the chemo to work. You wanted it to stop hurting him while it did. When Namjoon let out a low hum of assent you drew his forearms around your waist and laid your own over them.

Your eyes slipped shut. So euphoric but it always made you feel like sleeping. You weren't going to give into the urge, though, not just yet. There were conversations to be had.

"Tell me about Hyung-seo," you prompted softly, shifting against him to get comfortable.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Well," he responded slowly, "what do you want to know?"

"How did you meet her?"

He went quiet again. Then he sighed a small sigh. You wondered what that little breath carried.

"She debuted in 2019. A buddy of mine - Seo Jungkwon, he goes by Tiger JK in the industry - had signed her to his agency. Bangtan was just taking off, things were blowing up. I actually collaborated with him which is when I met her."

He silenced for a moment.

"We had a lot in common - how we approached life and music."

"Had?" you asked, gently.

He heaved another sigh.

"The last few years have been really tough on her. I mean, she hasn't had an easy life to begin with, but..."

He paused, as if deciding whether or not to utter the words he wanted to say next.

"Anyway," he redirected himself, and you wondered what thought he had dismissed, "Preparing for a tour is grueling, and this is her first one. I think the stress is really getting her."

You hummed in acknowledgement. You recognized it in his voice - you should after all, as the same sound had echoed so often in your own - the hollow clemency of lying to yourself on someone else's behalf.

"Well," you offered, "She's lucky to have you supporting her, especially when you're going through such a difficult time yourself."

Namjoon scoffed.

"I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but...I don't know. In a lot of ways my life has been a lot easier these days. A lot simpler."

"Really? In what way?"

He huffed out a wry laugh.

"I have so much time to just do whatever. Read, write...I've been learning a couple of languages. I get to do v-lives with ARMY pretty regularly, as the company allows - Jungkook went kind of crazy with it before enlistment so we have to go through them for access now."

You had no idea what a v-live was, but from what little you had seen of Jungkook, you could imagine it took very little for him to get up to a significant amount of shenanigans. You smirked.

"Did you have so little time for those things before?" you queried.

"No! No way. It was like running non-stop for ten years. During my time in the military, I got a bit of a break and a change, but then I got sick and had to be discharged early, so...well, I didn't even get to experience that like I should have."

You felt your hands tighten in response around his forearms. His life hadn't been cake-walk either, that was clear. You wondered if he knew that, if he acknowledged it.

"Well, I'm glad you have more time for those things. You should keep as much time for them as you can, even when you're better."

He paused for a moment before whispering agreement into your hair. You felt it even though he didn't say it, the caveat - if he got better. He would. You'd never make him a promise you couldn't guarantee, but you could make one to yourself. So you did.

For the rest of the session you talked about Bangtan, and the recent history of the group's situation.

You learned about conscription and that it applied to idols as well. You learned the members had decided to enlist pretty much around the same time so that they could reunite to tour again after being discharged. Namjoon had been released ahead of schedule when he had fallen ill, and at this point most of the members had followed, save Yoongi who was set to be discharged the following week. He fondly reported that they were all anxious to meet you, and that Jungkook and Jimin hadn't stopped pestering him with all manner of questions in your regard since their visit the previous day.

Every time you had heard him speak about his members, the deep brotherly affection that permeated his words was incredibly evident.

You asked him to tell you about each one, and he did.

You blinked your eyes open as you felt Namjoon shift you in his arms. You slowly pulled yourself forward, struggling to focus.

"I...I'm sorry," you murmured, "I fell asleep on you again."

Namjoon chuckled and assured you it was quite alright. As you wearily slipped off the mattress to stand, you suddenly felt the room tilt and your knees buckle. Namjoon's reflexes were quick enough to catch you in his arms. He stood to pull you up and hold you against him.

"You okay?" he asked in concern.

"I...I got dizzy..."

You attempted to put your weight into your legs, but failed, sagging weakly against his broad frame.

Nurse Cha was already in motion.

"Help her to the bed," she ordered, striding across the room.

Namjoon wasted no time in scooping you up in a bridal carry to follow her. You gasped despite yourself, the sudden movement and his strength equally surprising. But every thought was fleeting as you found yourself struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness.

You felt Namjoon lay you gently on the bed as cold, sticky monitors were pressed to your skin; heard him ask the nurse what was the matter, his voice tinged with anxiety.

You heard him say your name.

And then you heard nothing.

You groaned as you came to. Your throat felt like the Sahara and your head was pounding. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the curtain. Carefully drawing your legs to the edge of the bed, you clutched your IV stand as you struggled to your feet.

Pulling back the hanging divider, you were surprised to see Matt occupying the little couch, a cup of coffee on the low table in front of him. Namjoon sat in the opposing chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in rapt attention as the older man spoke. It was dark out.

"Matt," you croaked, shuffling forward.

Namjoon's head whipped around at the sound of your voice and he sprang up, just a moment faster than his guest, striding over to take you by the arm. You faltered just a moment in your steps as his hand cradled your elbow and you felt it - his touch and what it did to you. You wanted to curl into him. You wanted him to hold you.

You gently tugged your arm away.

"You're awake - let me call the nurse," he said, almost to himself as he moved to press the red call button.

You sank down beside Matt.

"What time is it?" you asked in a husky murmur. Your friend checked his watch.

"1:33am."

You frowned, blinking blearily.

"What the heck are you doing here at the hour?"

"Well!" Matt laughed before taking a sip of his coffee, "It's nice to see you too."

"You know what I mean..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"He called me," he said, gesturing with his raised mug toward Namjoon, who had returned to the armchair. "Said you'd had a fainting spell."

Your eyes followed his motion to your soulmate, who was already scanning his over you, brow furrowed and full lips pursed pensively.

"How are you feeling?" Namjoon asked.

You huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

"Like I got hit by a freight train."

The worry lines on his brow deepened.

"Hey, look..." you held up a hand to wave it weakly between both men as they regarded you in apparent concern. "I'm probably just adjusting to the bond or something. Cancer isn't contagious, you know," you ribbed, shooting a tiny smirk at Namjoon who attempted to return the expression though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

The night shift nurse and an aid entered the room to assess you. Namjoon asked to speak with a doctor, and was told that Dr. Na would be checking in first thing in the morning. The nurse had very little else to report other than that your blood work had been sent to the lab and that they would be able to determine more once your results were available. He informed Matt that some charts would likely be available in twenty-four hours, but that your CMP could take up to three days. The aid urged you to try to get some more rest. Before departing, the nurse removed your spent sodium chloride drip and said that a meal would be sent up which you were advised to eat if possible, but to be sure to report any signs of food-rejection should they appear.

Namjoon stood and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at your little portion of the suit.

"They want you to rest, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with me over here snoring? It's keeping you up, right?"

You smirked.

"Well, most of my rest over the last couple of days has been due to a lack of consciousness, but I do have to admit that you woke me up a couple of times last night."

Namjoon groaned discomfitedly.

"It really isn't a big deal!" you reassured him, "I'm a pretty sound sleeper."

"And still I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it..."

"It's not just that, though," he insisted, hands in the pockets of his sweats and head cocked to one side as he continued to consider the small space across from his. "You don't even have a window. If you want privacy, you have to sit behind that curtain in the tiny bed -- I hate it. I've hated it since they were first preparing for you to arrive. I'll make some calls tomorrow. You need your own room," he stated decidedly, returning to the chair across from you.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he fired off a message.

Namjoon did have a point, it was a pretty meager space you currently occupied. But they must have had a reason, you thought, for wanting you to share a room with him. And you didn't want to cause any kind of fuss in the name of personal convenience that might detract from his treatment or recovery.

"Namjoon, it's fine..."

He looked up at you, his brown eyes assured and determined.

"Just let me handle it. I've got you."

A sudden warmth spread through your chest like the rising sun on the frost of your anxieties, his gaze melting away the familiar worry of burdensomeness. You looked away shyly.

"Good man," Matt said to him with a nod, and they shared a look as your soulmate nodded in return that seemed to be one of mutual masculine respect. You wanted to roll your eyes a little bit. You also felt pretty damn grateful.

Matt stood to leave, pressing a kiss on your temple and promised that he'd return in the morning. He paused to shake Namjoon's hand.

"If there are any further developments, don't hesitate to call me," he said, to which the younger man nodded in agreement.

"Or I can call you!" you rasped after him as he raised his hand in one last gesture of farewell while shutting the door.

You huffed.

"Smart guy," Namjoon remarked, sitting back down in his chair. "You know he's read Toegye exhaustively?"

You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking with a wry grin.

"Two peas in a pod. He's probably going to be coming around here nonstop until he leaves just so you two can gab in genius."

Namjoon smiled and touched his fingers absently to his jaw, his eyes trained on the linoleum.

"Are you bothered that I called him?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at you.

"What? No, of course not," you reassured him with a shake of your head. "I just..." You rolled your eyes and smirked. "I'm not used to sitting around while boys decide what's best for me."

"Aaahhh," Namjoon responded with a nod, interlacing his fingers, "Well, you've been looking out for me since you walked through that door back there, and honestly, I could get used to that..." he leaned forward a bit, "But only if I get to return the favor. You said we don't owe each other, but that doesn't mean you get to be the only one doing the giving."

You stared at him. The only one to do the giving. The words jarred something loose inside you. You swallowed the strange feeling that threatened to well into your throat.

Before you could respond, an aid entered with your meal. A tray loaded with dakjuk, rice, and several banchan was placed before you. It smelled fantastic, and you actually felt you could eat. You moved to take the tray to your side of the suite but Namjoon stopped you.

"Hey, wait. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you."

He crossed to the other side of the room to pick up the telephone.

"Go ahead," he said with nod of his head a little grin, "Don't wait on me."

He didn't have to twist your arm. The chicken porridge was steaming and savory, warming you up within just a few bites. A similar tray soon arrived for Namjoon, and you found it did feel far nicer to eat with someone than alone.

Between bites he asked you about Matt.

"He's my dad's best friend. When he died - my dad - Matt and his wife Rebecca helped to take care of us for a while. They've been really good to my family."

Namjoon's face sombered.

"I'm sorry about your father."

You smiled softly at him.

"It was a long time ago, when I was ten. He was a firefighter."

He nodded quietly, giving you the opening to continue. You decided to take it.

"A fire broke out at a high-security prison. The situation got really bad with a lot of people still inside - prisoners. They told the team to stop attempting rescues, that it wasn't worth it, for people like that. But my dad kept going. Alone. He saved seventeen more lives before...well, he couldn't make it out."

When you looked up at Namjoon again his eyes were locked on you, his chopsticks resting idly in his hand.

"Wow," he murmured after a pause. "And you were ten years old? That must have been so hard."

You dragged your spoon through your dakjuk.

"It was. But managing things after he was gone...that was harder, I think."

Namjoon's brow knit in question but he didn't press you further. For the second time that night, you were grateful. Death was easy to explain, other things were much more difficult.

You finished the rest of your meal chatting about Matt, Neo-Confucianism, and unequivocal humanism between mouthfuls of rice and porridge.

The next day, you were moved into your new suite a few doors down. Namjoon had received no resistance from the hospital in procuring you the space, as apparently Hybe's representatives had been the ones to originate the request that you be at the idol's immediate disposal.

Your room mirrored the setup of your soulmate's, being on the same floor but across the hall, and Kang Dae had dropped in with a catalog stating that you could select whatever you wished to make the space more comfortable. You had circled a few things and he had departed to procure them. Matt had brought the bulk of your luggage, which meant a good portion of books, your art supplies, and finally more clothes which you would blessedly now have no worries of mixing up with Namjoon's. You changed into jeans and a comfy Nirvana graphic tee.

You were busy unpacking when a knock came at your door. You called for the person to come in while you continued to stack books onto a small set of shelves. The doctor had cautioned you and Namjoon against further skinship sessions until your blood work had come back, so you were anxious for the results, not wanting him to go through another bout of chemo without the aid of the bond.

When you glanced up expectantly, however, you found your curiosity would have to wait - at least, concerning your charts - as in the entry stood none other than Kim Hyung-seo.

She lingered in the entryway at the mouth of the space, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked much more casual today in a pair of big baggy camouflage cargo pants, a tight black crop top, and chunky white sneakers. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had black mask pulled under her chin. She was bare-faced, save for two small red dots under her right eye.

You stood from your crouched position, trying your best to keep the surprise from your face.

"Hi," you greeted her with a small smile, which she returned remorsefully, still hugging herself as she glanced around the room. "Would you like to sit down?" you offered, motioning to the furniture beside you.

She nodded, crossing over to take a seat in the little arm chair. You moved to sit across from her. Your first instinct was to offer her something to drink, only to realize you were in a hospital room with no way to deliver, at which you both laughed awkwardly. After a moment of tense silence, she looked up at you, gnawing her bottom lip.

“I owe you an apology," she sighed.

You gave her an encouraging smile.

"Fuck..." she dropped her head in her hands, and you waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she raises her eyes to yours, interlacing her fingers with their long white nails in her lap.

"What I did...what I said yesterday...I was cunt. I'm sorry."

You let out a little laugh at her choice of words.

"Well, I do accept your apology...but, don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really bizarre and unprecedented situation for all of us. I'm glad we're moving forward, and in a better direction."

You smiled again at her reassuringly.

She nodded, her lips pursed and quivering slightly. You could tell she was blinking back tears.

"Me and Joon...we'd only been engaged for a few weeks before we found out...you know, that he had a match. That it could be his only option to live - bonding. With you. It's just all really fucking scary."

You nodded sympathetically. She released another sigh as she continued.

"He had to decide so fast, they pushed him to just make this huge life commitment as fast as they fucking could and now..." She raised her arms, looking around the room in resign, "Here we are. And we have to figure everything out, and I'm about to leave and..."

"I'm sorry," you murmured sympathetically.

She looked down into her lap, worry still twisting her features.

You wondered why she was leaving, now of all times - when things were the way they were. But that wasn't for you to judge.

"You know," you offered hopefully, "At least he's on the mend. At least you know he'll have someone to look after him."

She hummed. You wondered if it was an agreement as her eyes flitted over your face searchingly. Anxiety from the previous day's encounter began to seep into your chest as you considered if you had chosen your words poorly. You had said what would have comforted you in under the same circumstances. But maybe you were different - too different.

You softened your heart, determined to reserve judgement. Life had given Hyung-seo had her own shoes, and you would do everything you could to understand what it was like to walk in them.

"Can I add you on KakaoTalk?" you asked, realizing you were still clutching a book, and setting it onto the low table to pull your phone from your pocket.

She was chewing on her lip again when you looked up. She stared down at the hardback.

"You read a lot, huh?" she asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

"I do," you answered slowly, wondering where her train of thought was headed.

"All that stuff you said yesterday, you seem, like really in tune with people. And smart. You guys are, like, the same."

She pressed the words out in a strained voice. She looked so small and so sad. Your heart sank for her.

"Namjoon actually said that very thing about you yesterday."

She glanced up at you in surprise and confusion. You smiled.

"He said that when you met he was struck with how much you shared in how you saw the world, and how you approached music."

She regarded you silently as you continued.

"And that's your life right, your great love? Music? What a wonderful thing, to base your life with a partner in a love you share."

She nodded slowly, her eyes watering.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and you nodded in understanding.

You reached out to take her hand and she squeezed yours. After a few moments of silence, she rose and wiped her eyes.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to see Joon again before I go," she explained.

You nodded.

"Thank you for coming to talk to me and for sharing about how this has been for you. I really appreciate it."

She smiled - perhaps genuinely for the first time since you met. It was a lovely smile.

You sighed as she left. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe she would let you in. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

When several hours had passed with no updates on your lab results, you decided to take a walk down the hall to see how your soulmate was faring. You knocked on his door, but received no answer.

"Namjoon!" you called softly with another rap of your knuckles, but were still met with silence.

Just when you were about to turn and go, the door creaked inward on its hinges, slipping open to reveal your soulmate's tired face.

"I just came to see how you were doing...are you okay?."

You followed him as he slumped back into the suite, but before he could even reach his bed he turned and pushed past you to hurry into the bathroom. It caught you a little off-guard and you stumbled, catching yourself on the opposing wall, but quickly realized the reason for his urgency when sounds of retching followed.

The bathroom door was cracked open and you could see him hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily as his body wracked with each attempt to expel the contents of his stomach. You hesitated a moment, then pushed the door in slowly, coming to kneel beside him and gingerly place a hand on his back.

He raised his head, eyes fluttering when you touched him. You gently pulled your palm up and down his spine, feeling the warm surge of the bond even through his shirt. He reached for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

"You don't have to do that..." he murmured, resting his forehead on his arm propped on the porcelain rim.

"I know," you answered quietly, continuing to slowly rub his back. "Can I put my hand under your shirt?"

"You're not supposed to be touching me until we know what's going on with you."

You slipped your other hand out to curl your fingers around his exposed bicep below the sleeve of his tee. He sighed, shoulders sagging as the comfort and warmth of the contact soothed his aching body.

"Can I?" you softly persisted, and he nodded his head where it laid against his forearm.

Slipping your hand beneath the baggy cotton you ran your fingers over his soft, taut skin, heart squeezing at the definition of his spine and the ghosts of his ribs.

"Did you do chemo without me?" you asked.

“I've been doing it before you got here, you know,” he retorted weakly.

"How are you supposed to gain weight if it makes you this sick? Please don't do it again without me."

"You passed out, Y/n," he shifted his head to look at you.

"We'll figure that out," you smiled, "But you need to be as agreeable to these treatments as possible, right?"

He nodded.

"Hyung-seo paid me a visit this morning," you remarked after a moment of silence.

"She told me."

"Said she leaves for her tour tomorrow. When does she get back?"

"February."

"Of next year?" You paused to temper your shock, "That's a long time."

"It's a world tour. That's how it goes."

"Wow."

You realized for the hundredth time in as many hours that there was so much about their lifestyle to which you were ignorant. You had so much to learn, but one thing you did know: he needed you right now, so you stayed by his side until the sickness had subsided.

Nurse Cha arrived shortly after to conduct routine checks on Namjoon, and you sat by, thumbing through the latest issue of Batman and Robin which Matt had been kind enough to drop off with your things.

"Your initial blood work came back with some concerns," she said, turning to you and picking up her tablet to access the results. "There are signs that your body's nutrients are being depleted. Since your fainting spells have been occuring during skinship, we ask that you refrain from touching until your CMP comes back."

Namjoon glanced over at you, a chiding expression on his features. You flatly ignored him.

"I need to be able to touch him, especially if he feels ill. He needs to keep down his food, right?"

Nurse Cha hummed, pursing her lips.

"Well, I'm going to run this by Dr. Na, but if absolutely necessary, keep it light and brief. And please be sure to document even the smallest instances of skinship so that we can track the effects."

You agreed readily, and she left to continue her rounds.

Glancing out the window, you noted that the evening was mild, and the gardens were aflutter with birds and awash in soft late-afternoon light. You thought about what the nurse had said before about the fresh air.

"Hey," you remarked, still looking out the window, "We should take a walk - it looks so nice out. You up for it?"

"Great idea," he replied, joining you to look out across the greenery. "I'm definitely feeling up for it." He huffed out a little chuckle.

"What?" you asked suspiciously. You were beginning to recognize his different laughs - this particular chuckle was always at your expense.

"Gonna keep pushing it with the poor nurse, huh?"

You scoffed.

"Well, if I hadn't would you be feeling well enough to go out right now?"

"No."

When you glanced up you found that he was gazing raptly at you, his face filled with unchecked thanksgiving. Your witty response faltered on your tongue.

His touch, you were pretty damn sure that for the rest of his natural life you would never grow used to it...but his eyes? It was almost the same. Was this part of the bond? Or was it just...him? Did everyone feel this way when he held them in those eyes? When he looked at them, really looked...

You couldn't tear your eyes away. You couldn't find words.

When Namjoon's phone suddenly buzzed you thanked almighty Samsung and sagged against the window pane.

"Damn," he muttered.

You looked at him questioningly.

"I have a consultation with my radiation oncologist in ten minutes. Go ahead! I'll meet you down there right after."

He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and changed his slippers out for his shoes.

You returned to your room to grab outerwear as well. The evening was temperate enough to go without, but you were feeling chillier than usual. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Mom flashed across the screen.

Your chest tightened and you silenced the ringer. You'd call her tomorrow, you told yourself. Besides, she had already spoken to Matt.

When you reached the garden, you decided there was someone you should call while you waited. Ambling down a gravel path, you held the phone up to your ear, stuffing your other hand into the pocket of your jean jacket.

"Matt told mom that you passed out - are you okay?" Diana's voice on the other end registered genuine distress.

You rolled your eyes and sighed.

"I'm fine. My body is just adjusting to the bond and probably jet lag and whatnot."

"You better fucking be fine or I'm coming out there to make sure you are."

You laughed.

"To South Korea? On a Wednesday?"

"You know what I mean, god! You're so - hey! How did the fiancee thing go?"

"I knew you'd want an update."

"Spill."

You sighed.

"Uh-oh," she hummed, "That was your, things-are-an-effing-disaster sigh."

"It was no- why do you keep trying to divine my air flow like they're casting-runes or something? Will you just let me tell you?"

"You don't always say."

You huff in exasperation.

"Okay, well, I won't tell you what that sigh is," she mumbles in trepidation, "But I will tell you that I know enough to shut up and let you continue. Go on."

"It didn't go swimmingly."

"Fuck."

"Yeah,” You lifted your fingers to absently stroke at the petal of a rose. “She seemed very frightened by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But then...she also kind of came at me. She started asking pretty intimate stuff about the bond right off the bat. When I tried to redirect by suggesting we get to know each other better she started saying all this stuff she already knew about me. About Dad and Mom."

"What?!" Diana gasped incredulously.

"It was almost as if...I don't know, I could have been reading her incorrectly, but it was almost seemed as if she was trying to bring things up that might knock me off my footing. Make me...insecure."

You suddenly remembered your conversation with Namjoon the previous night. He hadn’t let on that he had already known your father passed when you were a child...but he had known. Passing out during skinship had gotten in the way of the conversation you had intended to broach with him about knowledge of the other. You had done research before meeting him, but only the basics. You had felt that as much should come from him as possible. Clearly you hadn’t been given that opportunity.

"That bitch," Diana seethed, pulling your mind back into the moment.

"Hey, hey, hey," you cautioned her, "She's in a extremely difficult situation. And that was just my biased impression of her intentions. Don't be too quick to judge her, Di."

Diana hummed discontentedly.

"Also, she came to apologize to me today before she leaves on tour. We made progress, I think."

"Apologizing? Bare minimum," Diana said with an air of dismissal. "What did you say her name was?"

"Kim Hyung-seo. Her stage name is Bibi."

Diana was silent for a moment.

"Found her," she declared.

You smiled to yourself - of course she had found her, the woman was famous. It wasn't as if stalking measures were necessary (though you had no doubt of Diana's abilities should that have been the case).

Diana clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"She's hot."

"She is very pretty," you agreed.

"Yeah, but you're hot too. And, y'kow, you're you. Bet you're smarter..."

"Di," you said, stopping to pinch your brow, "We're not in some kind of competition. We're both just human beings navigating pretty uncharted waters, okay? We both have our strengths and weaknesses. She's going to be part of my life as Namjoon's wife, so not only is building a good relationship with her important to me, I have a responsibility to her as well. We all do. To each other."

Your sister paused on the other end before relenting sullenly.

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right - you do need to make nice with her...as long as they're married, that is..."

"DIANA."

"Okay! Geez!" Diana cleared her throat. "How is the soulmate doing?"

"He's getting stronger every day," you answered, happily moving the topic away from Hyung-seo.

"That's great!" she crooned.

"It is."

"Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling."

"How are you doing, Di? Classes are starting soon."

You smirked as your sister's attention surged in a new direction, and for the next half an hour she regaled you with tales of her new housemates, and the smarmy and unseemly Johnnie (who had come crawling back, as predicted, upon returning to the States).

Upon hanging up with Diana, you checked the time, and discovered that it had been nearly an hour since you left Namjoon. You were starting to feel weak, and a bit cold - hunger, you told yourself - so you decided to return indoors for dinner.

You called Namjoon on the way up to the fifth floor to inform him if your change in plans. He apologized profusely, saying that the doctor had been detained, and asked you to join him for dinner.

Letting yourself into his suite, you shrugged your jacket off as you headed for your usual spot on the couch when, suddenly, you froze.

A man was rising to stand from where he had been seated on the sofa. He was clad in a dark blue button-down with a golden emblem on the shoulder and black slacks. He wore a black cap which bore a similar insignia to the one on his shirt and fit snugly over his short dark hair. He wasn’t as tall as Namjoon, though his shoulders were nearly as wide. His features were soft but arresting, and his deep brown irises, you thought, seemed to hold a bit of everything a pair of eyes could. Your comic book was in his hand.

You crossed the room toward him.

"Hi, I’m sorry, Namjoon will be here soon - oh, I'm his soulmate, Y/n," you stammered, before catching yourself.

The young man's sharp eyes widened, his lips parting as you bowed.

"Je ireum-eun Y/n imnida," you started over in Korean.

He bowed in return, raising his dark brown eyes to you again as he responded in a soft deep voice.

"Annyeonghaseyo, je ireum-eun Min Yoongi imnida."

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