#like some angst that happens later on >:3c

[icycoldninja]

*kicks down ask box* WELL WELL WELL, IT APPEARS WE HAVE TOO MUCH HAPPINESS HERE O’ QUEEN OF ANGST~! Time to absolutely fix this >:3

Ehem! My request be but the simplest kind: Rough Angst Headcanons that you wanted to talk about or can see being a thing for your fave character~ I initially wanted to request something that’s on the much darker and heavier side of life but… well come back to that one a lil later~

As always, love ya work :3c

Thank you 💜💜💜 thing is I have so many favorite characters it's impossible to choose. Ah well, most of them have been done anyway. Let's go with Genesis.

Angsty Genesis headcannons

-Genesis is probably the loneliest character in the game, always wanting to talk about his interests, but no one wants to hear it.

-His "friends" find him annoying, and while he pretends he doesn't know to try and save their dying relationship, Genesis is painfully aware of this. They don't like him anymore; can they even be called friends now?

-Things only get worse when his degradation begins as in addition to mental pain, Genesis is filled with physical pain.

-His whole body burns like it's on fire as each individual cell disintegrates before his eyes. It's a very painful way to go.

-He also has a constant fever and incurable fatigue that only seems to get worse the more he sleeps. He's miserable, constantly hungry, and pretty much running on fumes.

-Sometimes he does things he has no control over, such as killing his parents. He didn't want to do that, it was like his body moved on its own.

-Poor guy just wants to return to normal, but fate just doesn't want that to happen.

-All around him, his friends either die or turn on him--not that he's been of any help. He egged Sephiroth along, probably to get revenge for not paying him any mind when he wanted to talk about LOVELESS in the past--or maybe that was just his body functioning without him.

-He really does miss his parents. And Angeal. And Sephiroth. And Zack. Oh God. What has he done?

-He's not really evil, just misguided, sick, and tired; or perhaps all that stuff turned him evil. He doesn't know, he's too ill to know, so neither will we.

-His self centered nature probably stems from childhood neglect. His parents were rather wealthy, and the rich tend to forget their families, so this isn't too odd of an assumption.

-He has self esteem issues stemming from aforementioned childhood neglect as well as never being recognized for his efforts during the war. He worked hard too, why should Sephiroth have all the fame?

-All he really wants is to be loved, appreciated, and treated like an actual person, not some mindless zombie working for Shinra who is always seen as an irritating person that everyone seems to hate.

[josnhoes]

Would you like to expand on your BG3 KNAK au? What is the reader's initial relationship with Astarion, Shadowheart, and Gale and how does said relationship evolve over the course of the story?

Content warning mentions of Canon compliant themes ie violence, tadpoles, ect.

For Shadowheart the initial relationship is just awkward. You're a kid she doesn't know how to deal with kids. Let alone one she kind of owes her life to. You were...cute she supposed.

Over time as she gets attached she gets mother hen vibes in battle. Yes she knows you have a near God level of magic and what you can do with it, but she feels she *has* to protect you...and maybe scold you when you do something stupid on the battle field or mindlessly walk into a trap.

Gale takes on the big brother role at first, well that's what he'd call it. It's actually more a mentor fatherly role from the start. You are a young budding magic user. He feels responsible for you as the original magic user you met. Plus you seemed to be a sweet if not chaotic at times type. In everything you did you seemed to just be playful or well meaning.

Later on the role doesn't change as much as he just accepts it. He's a dad now. Luckily he does have a few others in camp that have taken up that role as well in their own ways. He loves his informally adopted kid, he was so proud to show you off to Tara and plans to with his mother. (There is some deep angst I'm not adding since it's a bit more detailed)

Astarion starts out annoyed once he realizes you're a child. At first he had assumed you were a gnome or halfling. Why else would you have been on the ship. But no you were just a child...of whom he held a knife to. He says no harm was done since he didn't hurt you but later he'd feel small amounts of guilt. He's honestly impressed by how powerful you are, and you're so naive... perfect to manipulate. He acts kinder and softer to you, trying to cement himself as someone you can trust.

But as we all know that act eventually becomes *real*. He's not overly sweet but he does take on dad #2 vibes. Though he will never *ever* admit it....unless something bad happens to you ;3c. Constantly trying to teach you how to be a rogue, how to use people for your own safety. But also not only fixes your clothing but tries to make you some.

[mercuryhomophony]

📓

rn I have extreme brainrot hyperfixation on FNAF SB and specifically the daycare attendant but I also like "five animatronics and a recovered security guard (and a ghost???) try to raise the sassiest fucking child and solve the mystery of why fazbear entertainment sucks so bad and where all the children went

I lovingly think of this as my "Technician Gregory AU," where after the events of the save Vanessa ending, they let things cool down for a bit while Fazbear entertainment shoves some stuff under the rug and gets things back together, then they go back, return Freddy's head, and start debugging the animatronics. the au picks up a few years later, Gregory has actually joined the "internship program" which is basically an excuse to get good at helping the animatronics actually keep kids safe, keep them debugged, and keep trying to figure out what happened to the kids.

fun plot points include:

Animatronic business meetings

Gregory being sassy about things other kids do and animatronic repairs

Gregory getting increasingly exasperated with fazbear entertaiment

all the animatronics becoming better friends with Gregory

DCA angst >:3c

Michael is the source of Freddy's Boogie Bug (saw someone with the headcanon that he loves those musical spiders and I love it)

Sun has Always Been Bugged, it's bug just showed up differently in a beneficial but fucking terrifying way (he sees dead people)

Monty tries to say fuck (is helped by some teens)

Moon and Monty become friends after a fistfight

Roxy does Michael's makeup

"Could this character have survived? Fuck it I'ma make him survive"

Chica gets taste buds and becomes depressed over not liking trash anymore, only to become a foodie

Everyone gets to kick molten freddy's ass

everyone gets to kick William Afton's ass

Everyone gets to kick Mimic's ass

All the children go free

Horrific animatronic imagery

I'd love to fuckign write it but I would fall so hard into it and I have so many WIPS I wanna actually finish and I just Cannot Rn. But I love playing jpgs in my head wit hthe AU

[zinovi768]

I am totally fine after your last updates that I totally didn't read just now in one go, no no no, wouldn't be me, nonononononono

The nightmare beavers nightmare?!

Raph and the lake?!

Raph and Casey cuddling?!

I'm done

Dead

Rip me

Is there gonna be more fluff soon?

Is the kill switch gonna be a topic soon cause you mentioned it again?

Is Raph going TO TELL his siblings about it so they could maybe to smth against it?!

Maybe?!

Is there a possibility?!

What excactly IS this kill switch?

Is it like a literal switch in his body?

Can it be removed?

How does it work?

Is it chemically stuff in his blood made through one of the experiments he went through?

Did they put a lil blocker into his heart to make it stop beating?!

I GOT SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!

Btw, Happy Halloween to you! Hope you having a spooky day today! :3c

AIFNEKFND HI!!

I'm literally working on the next chapter that's like a week late so ur all good man!!

Also hehehehe in glad you liked the farmhouse arc <3

Anyway! I will try to answer some questions without to many spoilers if I can!

—

- Is there going to be more fluff soon?

No. <3

- is the kill switch going to be a topic soon cause you mentioned it again?

*innocent smile* maybe-

- is Raph going TO TELL his siblings about it so they could maybe do something against it?

No <3 he’s scared and doesn't want to scare them-

-What exactly IS the kill switch?

You where right on the final guess, it's a blocker that stops his heart from beating! (more info later)

—

The next chapter should be out today or tomorrow and more shit is happening so keep an eye out for that plus more angst under the L&F tag on my page!!

Also happy Halloween!! I'm super sick so I'm just staying home and watching movies but I hope you have a spooky day!!

[dashythroughthesnow]

OK SO

I WISH I BOUGHT THE SOUVENIR PROGRAM BEFORE THE SHOW HOLY FUCK

almost everyone around us brought a date 💀 and for some reason some elementary kids were there cause their school sponsored the show?? like omg you poor lil kids there is war, blood, and a grand total of 1 subtle phallic joke in this show

I WAS TRYING SO HARD NOT TO SQEUAL WHENEVER THEY HAD A MUSICAL MOTIF REPEATED,,, OR EVEN STARTED BUILDING UP TO IT BY MAKING A CHARACTER SING A SHORT MELODY THAT WILL EVENTUALLY BE IN IT'S OWN SONG LATER

i wasn't expecting the show to have so many funny jokes?? the actors' comedic timing was just *chef's kiss*

act 1 was so funny until act 2 happened. they still managed to throw some jokes in tho

i was so shook tho when i took out my watch and realized act 1 was 2 hours long

my favorite number is the one that ends act 1 les mis-style where they wave the philippine war flag. the song's titled malaya (lit. eng: free) iirc

there's no cast recording yet but at least there's a short video of it being rehearsed online >:3c

christian is a himbo, i didn't expect to enjoy his character sm :'))

ADDING ON TO THE MALAYA NUMBER, THEY WAVE THE RISING SUN FLAG FOR ONE SECOND BEFORE THE STAGE GOES DARK AND WE HEAR EXPLOSIONS?? AND IT HAS???? SO MUCH IMPACT??????????????? LIKE HOW??????????

tbh i loved the balcony scene the most but i don't wanna admit it

WHEN THEY BEGIN THE SHOW BY LIGHTING UP THE TINY LAMP IN THE CENTER OF THE STAGE, CLOSE IT BY TURNING IT OFF

AND WHEN THEY END WITH THE SONG THEY STARTED WITH

SO MUCH ANGST AMONGST THE LAUGHTER LIKE BROOOOOOO

IT'S KINDA FUNNY HOW THE ACTOR OF THIS ONE CHARACTER IS ENGAGED TO THE ACTRESS OF THE CHARACTER HIS IS PINING FOR

WHEN THEY SING THE IKAW MOTIF DURING THE TITLE NUMBER I WAS LIGHTLY BANGING ON MY CHAIR BECAUSE KDGHSD;LGHKLJFDSGHKFJSL

PRETTY MUCH WHENEVER CYRANO IS BEING TOO MUCH IN DENIAL I JUST

what else is there to say shit

i love how the cadets treat carissa like a little sister, even getting fired up from defending her when one of them gets annoyed with how noisy she gets when she has a nightmare

i also like how they're the only ones who can affectionately make fun of cyrano's long nose kfdslhgfjs

THE COSTUMES AND SETS ARE SO PRETTY THO

THE WHITE DRESS ROXANNE WEARS MAY BE SIMPLE BUT IT HAS TO BE MY FAVORITE ONE LMAO

NO SPOILERS BUT THE ENDING GOT ME LIKE

YEAH THAT'S MUCH ALL THAT I CAN MENTION SO FAR I'LL COME BACK WHEN I REMEMBER SMTH

in conclusion cyrano best boy, man's actor makes him so fucking funny, and the musical is amazing

10/10 would watch again

[sztefa001]

YESSS LET'S GO WILD! >w< At some point TC says he can't find his newest Star x WJ fic and Star is so done and then is even more done when he sees Warp taped it to the door of Star's room. Star just dies inside as Warp and WJ are wheezing and TC is scolding them 'cuz tape damages paper ffs!

@curious-sootball @sztefa001

the idea that he ARRESTS him for it

no, but !! omg! what if its wheeljack's really elaborate descriptions (sometimes scribbles too) of how he oh so elegantly got kicked in the face during their latest fight - "and he has that neat thing where his canines show when he's in the middle of stabbing you" - then a whole paragraph about his legs and how they're very flexible and agile and in the tiniest script, on the bottom of the page, VERY very lightly scribbled "his legs are so feminine .. so its totally not gay for me to find them attractive .. i am definitely still straight"

[an-ice-guy]

This is si me’s bio, enjoy! It’s kinda meh since my thoughts are scrambled right now so I might change it later but for now here it is!

Name: ? (Haven’t decided, might go with Xander? I don’t have a solid name for myself yet either)

Age: 12 (Was 16, he de-aged in the process of going to paranatural...idk how much sense that makes but w/e time travel might’ve had a hand in it.)

Gender: Demi-boy, prefers he/him pronouns but is ok with they/them pronouns.

Orientation: Aroace

Spectral energy: Frosty blue

Spirit: Cold Snap (Ice spirit)

Spectral type: Medium

Abilities: Cryokinesis (Ice manipulation), Freezing liquids, cooling the air around him, so on and so forth. Frost Breath. Capable of generating icy armor. General spectral abilities as well such as making a spec-shot and having a very rough idea of how to form spectral energy thanks to CS’s guidance.

Motivation: Saving Mayview from disaster, Helping the activity club and his friends. Other than that, he’s also motivated to survive and to find out how he got here.

Personality: My si is a rather calm and friendly person, who is hard to anger due to him being a rather patient person. He has a goofy side to him as well, cracking jokes and making silly puns in an attempt to get people to laugh, since he likes seeing people happy. He cares deeply for his friends and family, and the one way to get him irrevocably angry is to mess with them. He shares this trait with Cold Snap

That being said, his humor doesn’t make him too silly. He’s pretty serious about things he cares about and in real danger, he’s capable of turning serious in a flash. He’s rather intelligent and uses this to his advantage, outwitting his opponents by using trickery and thought. Si me is a clever person and thinks carefully about what he’s going to do before he does it and is rather good at finding out what a person is most likely going to do. He is not above using underhanded tricks to win a fight.

Though he is intelligent, si me isn’t very booksmart. Math and English are his two worst subjects, even though his vocabulary is pretty good. Science eludes him most of the time as well, but History is something he’s decent at.

He enjoys it greatly when his friends are happy and loves to spend time with them doing goofy stuff. He would do anything for his friends/family, and that is a dangerous personality facet to have in his case.

Another thing he is good at besides making a joke or two is keeping secrets. He’s a rather secretive person and has a few secrets he keeps close to himself, secrets he’d prefer nobody ever hear. One of them being that he’s from another dimension, and that he knows what’s going to happen in the future. He’s also deathly afraid that if they found out his secret that they’d start to hate him for keeping said secret, and that they’d blame him for not telling them beforehand.

He isn’t happy all the time either, as a result of his life before coming to Mayview. He is selfless to the point where he would give his life to help his friends and family, and is afraid of burdening other people. He is rather prone to panicking or overthinking as well if he doesn’t take the time to slow down and think about the future. Cold Snap helps with that, but the underlying anxiety is still there. He is pretty self-loathing as due to depression issues, and has breakdowns sometimes where he just needs to be alone for a while to cry things out. He’s incredibly fearful of a couple of things, the most prominent being that he is afraid of most is being unable to save Mayview or the lives of his friends, or failing them because he couldn’t prevent a disaster from happening. Blames himself for things a lot as a result.

He usually hides all this from his friends as well, and his calm demeanor is somewhat of a farce. It’s mostly true, he is a rather calm individual, but he oftentimes uses his calmness and humor to hide the fact that he might be absolutely terrified in a situation like a fight, or uses it to mask his pain when he’s feeling particularly not so great. Doesn’t wanna worry anyone.

All in all, he’s a goofy yet calm person and cares deeply for his loved ones, but is selfless to the point of worry and is afraid of burdening the people around him. Also a Depressed Mess™.

His view on spirits is a positive one, and he respects and values Cold Snap’s presence as well as that of others. Doesn’t like Francisco Guerra very much due to his treatment of them (cough) the training dummies (cough) because he believes it to be wrong to hurt them like that. 

History: He doesn’t like to say, but his condition before coming to Paranatural was not a good one.

Goals: Si me came to Paranatural under mysterious circumstances, he doesn’t know why, or how, but he landed in Mayview. His journey is going to be a long one, but he’s going to attempt to save Mayview from whatever disaster is going to happen. He has read the comic Paranatural, so this gives him knowledge of the future, which he is going to use to help both the town and the activity club.

Battle style: Fragile speedster: He’s ok at dishing out the pain, but he certainly can’t take it. He prefers to attack quickly using his ice abilities, and oftentimes using a stomp that generates icy spikes from the ground. He can generate armor with his abilities much like Cold Snap, but prefers to not use it because its much harder to dodge attacks with armor weighing you down. He’s pretty decent at attacking, and can certainly dish out the pain, but against a mighty glacier, he might not last very long. He isn’t as clumsy as Cold Snap, quite the opposite, he’s rather graceful so getting him to trip up might be a bit hard. He is a pretty fast runner, and has a bit of stamina, but his arms might as well be wet spaghetti noodles for how hard he can punch something. As a result, he uses icy weapons to his advantage to stab or slice at his opponents.

He uses lies and deceit to trick his opponents into giving him the advantage, and certainly isn’t above fighting dirty. He also isn’t afraid of running away if things get a bit too hairy for him. If someone’s life is on the line though, he’s not going to up and leave them, he’s going to stay and fight. Even if it causes him pain in the long run.

[lunarsands]

ALSMP Fanfic: Echoing Through To You

Characters: Vampire!Scott, Wither!Sausage, Angel!Scott, plus a couple of “special guests”

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: Okay Fine You Twisted My Arm I’ll Ship Them, But Not Without Some Tragic Angst First >:3c, Canon Divergent - Canon Is Putty In My Hands

Warnings: Body Horror, Injury, Bleeding, Character Death – Look If I Can’t Play With Characters Becoming Different Every Time They Die Then What Is The Point

Summary: Scott tried to bury Sausage after unintentionally killing him, but he didn’t stay in the grave. An alliance was formed and together they became an unstoppable force. Yet something about Sausage’s new form didn’t sit well with Scott. And then when the vampire happened to die, well…that changed things in more ways than one.

(Also available on Ao3! )

[A/N: This fic is brought to you by this post from Cynthrey, who also won me over to the Scosage side with adorable chibis. Description of Wither!Sausage is based on Cynthrey’s design. 

Souls sharing a connection and exchanging emotions or possibly revealing hidden feelings? Sign me right the heck up.]

---

He hadn’t meant to do it. He realized too late that he had gone too far. But Sausage could fly, how absurd was it that he just fell straight down like that, and was sprawled on the ground, and Scott had smelled blood and was overcome with thirst –

And he drank too much blood. He heard Sausage’s heart slow, then stop –

He never actually wanted to kill the angel, only scare him. But now all he could do to make up for it was bury him in the cemetery next to Saint Pearl’s church. There was a fresh grave in the back, making Scott’s job easier. There weren’t exactly any spare coffins laying around either, so he folded Sausage’s wings around him and eased him down into the grave on top of the one that was there, then filled it in. He was caked in dirt, himself, by the time he was through, but he only sighed about it and picked up one of the feathers that had come loose during the process. He turned it forward and back as he contemplated what he should do in the future.

There was a chance this could happen again with someone else, and he had to decide whether he would give in to the blood frenzy or restrain himself from killing. The internal debate went on so long that he ended up sitting on the wall for a while, occasionally noting the position of the moon to avoid sunrise, and still twirling the feather between his fingers.

He didn’t think it was fair that he should feel bothered by it. Sausage had made the first offense, after all. But then, he had only been a helpless little angel, without even proper holy water or a flaming sword, just imitation of the real things. Scott supposed he should at least be sure the next person was truly a threat before he ended them. Too many dead people meant less blood around later, as well.

His sensitive ears caught a shuffling noise from below him. Confused, he glanced down into the graveyard, expecting a mole or some other burrowing animal to appear. Instead, it was the dirt of the freshly dug grave that seemed to be moving.

Could angels become zombies?

Scott hopped off the wall and backed toward the opposite row of graves, morbid curiosity stopping him from outright leaving. A hand pushed up out of the soil – not green like the other zombies that wandered the night, but there was something Not Right about the skin. A bump rose next to it, and a head of brown hair emerged as the dirt fell away, and then the other arm came free of the ground.

Sausage pulled himself out of the grave, crawling the rest of the way onto the path with skeletal appendages trailing from his back where feathered wings had once been. As he stood, they folded behind his shoulders as real wings once did. Raising his head revealed further trauma. His face was cracked on the right side, showing part of a black skull underneath, the scar over that eye standing out livid. He looked at Scott for a moment then lurched around to grab the shovel that had been left leaning on the wall. For a second the vampire thought he was going to have a fight on his hands, but instead Sausage started digging into the grave he had just climbed out of.

“Did – Did you not like how I buried you?” Scott asked with a nervous laugh. “I’ve heard of the dead being unable to rest, but this is ridiculous.”

“There’s something here I need,” Sausage said in a matter-of-fact tone, apparently too preoccupied with whatever was in the coffin to respond to Scott’s comment. “I couldn’t get at it with all the dirt in the way.”

Still curious, but wary of retaliation – it could be a weapon in there, for all he knew – the vampire kept his distance and watched. Eventually Sausage unearthed enough of the coffin to open it, and climbed up again holding a soul lantern. “That’s it?” Scott stared. “That’s all that was in there?”

“Yeah. Shubble gave it to me earlier, when she said she was coming for mine next. I guess she’s not getting it now.” He opened the lantern and spilled the soul out into his hand, where it sat glowing brightly, bits of it flicking off into the air like embers from a flame.

“What are you going to do with it?” Scott asked, baffled.

“Dying takes a lot out of you – you should know. I’m hungry.”

“Wh—” As the vampire watched, the soul’s shape dispersed into a glowing mist, some of it disappearing into Sausage’s skin, the rest flowing into his mouth.

Blue eyes flashed white for a second, then Sausage grinned. “Ah, yes, that’s much better.”

“Interesting.” Scott regarded him thoughtfully, but maintained some wariness. “Should I be worried about you doing that to my soul, or can we have a little chat?”

“No, no,” Sausage assured him with a chuckle. “No need to worry. You did me a bit of a favor. Angels have a lot of rules to follow. You freed me from that, so, thank you.”

“Glad to oblige, but what are you now?”

Sausage held out one hand. A swirl of smoke appeared out of his palm and took the shape of a black skull that flickered with white light in places. “I suppose you could call me Wither-Sausage now.” He shifted slightly and threw the skull at the wall, knocking out stone bricks and breaking one of the regular lanterns. He turned back to Scott with a dark smirk. “What did you want to chat about?”

“Well, first I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to try to murder me in revenge, but now I’m having a thought. Since you apparently eat souls now and I drink blood, why don’t we team up for a little – how should I put this – mayhem and destruction? If you aren’t still attached to following some of those rules, that is.”

“Sounds fun, actually” Sausage replied sprightly. “I don’t know who that soul belonged to, but now I’m wondering if they taste different depending on where they come from. Does blood taste different from person to person?”

“It does.” Scott was amused by his enthusiasm for the idea. “Humans and villagers are sweet. Enderians have kind of a fizzy thing going on. Blazeborns are spicy.”

The wither laughed. “That one just sounds dangerous to get.”

“I was very hungry at the time and it was a good challenge.”

“Hmm. So, who do we go terrorize first?”

Now Scott was the one to smirk. This was a very fascinating turn of events.

~*~

After some minor property damage to the surrounding settlements and generally introducing themselves as a duo to be feared, they got down to the business of a proper hunt. They targeted the small village that had an overabundance of pumpkins everywhere. There were what seemed an absurd number of iron golems patrolling the area, but Sausage made short work of them with his exploding skulls, and Scott, with his superior vampiric strength and speed, took down his fair share of them.

It wasn’t long before the noise drew the villagers to their windows. They had once been used to zombies beating on their doors, but the arrival of a self-appointed leader had brought the golems and brought relief from the nightly undead raids.

There was no stopping these two new kinds of undead, though.

One brave fletcher ran out to try to get help, yelling repeatedly, “Gem! Gem! Miss Gem!” Scott caught Sausage’s arm before he could throw a skull, and after a shared glance they swiftly followed.

They came around a corner just as the red-haired leader stumbled out the door with mismatched armor and an iron sword clutched in both hands. She raised it to point it at them. “You leave my villagers alone! I – I’m going to stop you!”

An iron golem flashed into existence beside her. Scott dodged off to the right, but Sausage stood his ground and hit it with a rapid fire volley of skulls to the point where it fell over and broke apart. Gem looked down at it in a panic. “My poor golems! What have you done?”

Sausage giggled a little. “Just some target practice. I have some new powers to test out.”

Gem leveled the sword at him but looked conflicted about it. “Sausage? What happened to you?”

Scott abruptly appeared behind her and grabbed her arms, causing her to drop the sword. Sausage gave a wobbly grin and pointed. “That.” Then he laughed.

Gem tried to glare over her shoulder. “Let me go! What do you want? I don’t have any diamonds, or whatever else you’re looking for, unless you want enchanted books or emeralds. We’re only peaceful villagers here!”

Scott bared his fangs and leaned in to brush them against her neck. She stiffened and he could hear her heartbeat start to race. “We’re not after any of that. We’re just hungry.” He flicked his gaze to his compatriot. “Sausage, if you want to have the honors?”

The wither clasped his hands together for a moment before moving closer. “How nice of you to ask! I think I will. Now, hold still, Gem. I haven’t done this before. It might hurt a little bit.”

She tugged her arms but was held fast. “Done what?” she asked bitterly. “Is it worse than being bitten by a vampire?” She spat the last word, trying to spite Scott in at least some way.

Sausage held one palm out toward her chest. “How attached are you to your soul?” A look of concentration then came to his face, and Scott saw a shadow cross the surface of the wither’s extended hand.

“My soul—” She cut herself off when a pinkish glow with green edges appeared in front of her chestplate. Sausage bent his fingers and wisps of the light flowed out toward him, coalescing into a spherical shape in his hand. Gem stared at it with a look of shock but as the milliseconds ticked by and the glow was drawn completely away from her, her face grew slack and her eyes became dull. She remained standing, and Scott noticed that her heart was now beating at about half the normal rate.

Interesting, he thought.

“Hm,” Sausage murmured as he brought the soul closer to his face to examine it. “Pretty.” He parted his lips and inhaled, drawing in some of the energy while the rest was absorbed into his hand.

Scott tried to pay attention to both of them, watching for any other effects that consuming a soul had on Sausage while also trying to gauge what was happening to Gem at the same time. Her heart was still beating when all of the glow had disappeared and she remained standing when he dared to let go of her, but there was…apparently nothing going on in her head. She just stood there.

“Interesting,” he repeated out loud.

“Hmm?” Sausage questioned.

“It looks like removing someone’s soul doesn’t outright kill them. She’s like a… living zombie.”

“Huh. Well, that’s convenient for you!”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I assume you don’t bother feeding on regular zombies, I wouldn’t think their blood would even be any good. This way, you’ve got a perpetual blood source that doesn’t talk back or try to fight you!”

“Sausage, that’s devious and also brilliant. I’m glad we’re a team now.”

“You’re welcome.” The wither paused to lick his fingers. “Oh, and you’re right. Villagers do taste sweet.”

~*~

It wasn’t long after that when Scott finally put the pieces together about what had been wrong with how Sausage’s hand had looked when he first came out of the grave. It was all about the shadows moving under his skin. They seemed to become more obvious and more prevalent right around the time the wither would suggest they go for a hunt.

Regardless of whether they were already together or at their respective homes, Sausage would pop up with a haunted look to his eyes, shadows slithering along his hands and the intact portion of his face. If he was aware of them, he never spoke of it. They would fade away as soon as he had eaten. It didn’t get in the way of their mutually beneficial arrangement, so Scott didn’t ask.

On one occasion, when Sausage was changing clothes after a particularly messy hunt and had discarded his cloak and shirt, Scott got a glimpse of his back. He could see that where the skeletal remains of his wings connected there was a large grayish-brown spot with weird, somewhat oval markings. The longer he looked, the more there seemed to be a pattern to them – and when they moved, independent of how Sausage did, Scott realized what it looked like: the eyes and mouths on the soul sand that was found in the Nether.

It made sense in one way, since wither skeletons naturally occurred there, and it very much looked like Sausage’s angel wings had withered away, so that specific spot was a reasonable place for a marking to be. What Scott hadn’t gleaned was why they appeared elsewhere on him and only at certain times.

The answer came to him out of the blue the next time they were out hunting and the wither’s skin danced with shadows as Sausage stared dead set on his victim. There was something driven about the way he was acting, as if something more was behind it; something else inside needed the souls, not just Sausage himself. Even if the way he pulled them out didn’t necessarily seem violent, the faces in the markings were screaming. Scott wondered in abject horror – even for someone who was a vampire – just how many souls had died in the Nether for whole valleys to be covered in that sand.

Had Sausage somehow become a vessel for whatever force syphoned the life out of people and funneled it into that hell dimension? It made Scott think of the stories of fallen angels who became corrupted in one way or another. He also considered that there was every chance if Sausage didn’t continue to consume souls that he, in turn, would be consumed in their place. For some reason, neither thought sat well with him.

Fortunately, souls were never really in short supply. There were always Endermen about during the night, and if a hunt didn’t work out, the wither could grab himself a snack that way, even if he complained about the fizzy aftertaste.

~*~

Inevitably, word got around about the deadly duo. Settlements began to shore up their defenses, the larger ones arming night guards and setting up all manner of things that could deter vampires. They didn’t seem able to find anything that could stop a wither, however, and nothing short of trapping him in an obsidian box was going to slow him down. They were both too careful to fall for any such traps, of course.

That didn’t discount happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, which the vampire chanced to stumble into, much to his misfortune.

Scott was out on a solo trip stalking a band of naïve adventurers through a forest, amusing himself by darting past them in the dark and hissing at random. They were properly terrified by the time they fled into the open mouth of a cave – an oddly well-lit cave, and maybe they had already known it was there, possibly being their destination all along. Scott shrugged to himself and snuck after them, wanting to see how deep the cave was and if he could use it to corner one of them for a bite.

His ears caught the sound of flapping wings just as he was peering around the side of the entrance, and the sight of piles of gold and treasure brought a feeling of dread that both he and the adventurers were about to be in big trouble. He would just have to try to throw all the blame on them.

There was an angry roar, and he spun around to see a massive green wyvern leaning down on its wings, glaring directly at him with fury. “Are you trying to steal my gold?!”

“No, they are. I was just following them to—”

“To find my lair?!”

“No. I was tracking them. They stole from me, too.” Scott made a point to glance into the cave several times, hoping to draw the wyvern’s attention to the now-huddled group. If they were actually heroes and not just thieves, they should probably be coming up with an idea to fight the creature, and Scott’s plan was to escape while everyone was busy fighting each other.

Unfortunately, before anyone could make a move, the wyvern hunched forward and unleashed its poisonous breath attack across the lot of them.

Scott stumbled to the side, coughing and trying to wave away the noxious green haze. The wyvern roared then breathed out again. Eyes stinging, Scott made a desperate bid to flee past it, not entirely certain which way to go, but if he could find a spot to leap from, he might have a chance. He ran for a clearing he had passed not too long ago—

Claws rent his back and an angry growl followed after. Then he heard a loud inhale. More poison was coming, it was now or never. He mentally gathered himself then jumped. He was able to clear the nearest row of trees and landed in the canopy, then immediately leaped again. The wyvern could fly after him, but maybe if he could outpace it, it would turn its attention to the adventurers instead. This had been a territorial thing. That was all.

Or so he hoped.

He didn’t look back, only kept leaping, although it was more difficult each time, and he felt himself weakening. His chest burned from the poison he’d breathed in and his back felt wet with blood. He wasn’t going to make it home before sunrise. But one place he knew he could go was closer.

He was able to clear the mountain bordering Wither’s Grasp but his aim was off, and he landed in the river instead of on dry land, but maybe that was just as well. The splashing would draw attention where his forlorn shout of “Sausage!!” hardly sounded loud enough to his own ears.

But then there the wither was, dragging him out of the water and carrying him to the boarded-up house. Scott coughed and shuddered, a chill taking hold in his bones like none he had felt so far in his time as a night walker. He barely registered Sausage trying to bandage his back, swooning into the wither’s arms and coughing wetly. There was blood everywhere now, mixed with droplets of condensed green fluid. He caught sight of Sausage’s face, dotted with red and disbelief in his eyes. Then everything went dark.

.

Sausage tried to remember what he knew of vampire lore. Was the specific dirt of their grave important for healing, and did they need to rest in their own personal coffin? Would any coffin do? He didn’t know for sure, he just hastily constructed one and hoped it would work. He had finished wrapping the claw wounds on Scott’s back after he had passed out and left him on a bed, but he wasn’t certain the vampire would recover without extra measures. A healing potion was probably out of the question. That seemed like it would do the opposite on one of the undead.

Either way, the sun would be coming up and the safest place for him would be inside a coffin, regardless of how dark it was in Sausage’s manor. He fixed the hinges in place and then went to get Scott.

The vampire’s face was already looking drawn as Sausage gazed down at him. He felt light as a feather when he picked him up, and he was completely unresponsive as the wither lowered him in. Sausage closed the lid then stepped away, uttering a sigh, uncertain how to feel about the situation.

It had probably been too late from the moment Scott had arrived. He might have survived the wounds but he must have been in the direct path of whatever had hit him with the poison, with the way it was so concentrated when he coughed it up. It had done little to affect Sausage, with his face already damaged as it was, and he entertained the thought that he might be immune to such things. The blood he had wiped off himself, however, was a little more unsettling.

He wasn’t about to go off and find whoever had done it, though. He needed to see how this would play out. Murderous revenge, if possible, could come later.

.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the creak of the coffin lid woke him quick enough. Optimism welled up within him; maybe he had been wrong about the poison.

Oh, but was he ever not.

The eyes that peered over at him were no longer red, but gold, and the cascade of hair above them was gold, and Scott’s expression was trepidatious as he clutched the side of the coffin. “Sausage… I…”

The wither could only stare as Scott pulled himself up and a pair of large, feathered wings layered in orange and yellow unfurled from behind him. Sausage staggered back a step, then uttered a weak laugh that came to sound like half a sob at the end before he fell silent. Scott dropped his gaze, but looked up again when Sausage’s hand came to rest on his arm, his other hand out to offer to help him climb from the coffin. Unsteady due to the weight of the wings, he accepted the help and leaned on Sausage afterward.

“How do you feel?” the wither asked quietly.

“Still weak,” Scott admitted. “But…also a bit like fire, inside.”

“Hm. Yeah, that can happen with angels.”

“Saus—"

“Please don’t. Let’s not ask. This is just how things turned out.” Sausage gave an empty smile.

Scott could see the hurt in his eyes, but nodded in agreement.

“So…what happened?”

“I angered a wyvern.”

“That explains the poison.”

Scott raised his shoulders, trying to get a feel for how to work his new wings, but they just…hung there.

He was afraid to use them.

He then looked over at Sausage hesitantly and almost moved away from him. This made them opposites again, and he was the weaker one. “…What do we do now?”

The wither adjusted his arm, holding Scott more firmly across his back beneath the line of his wings to support him. “We go outside. Angels belong in the sun.”

 ~*~

Over the coming days, Sausage helped Scott get used to his wings as he regained his strength, advising him on angelic instincts and illustrating a few flight forms with what remained of his wings, even if he himself couldn’t fly. He started to live vicariously through the newly minted angel; the genuine look of joy on Scott’s face when he learned to glide softened Sausage’s withered heart.

They moved up to Heaven’s Reach to make it easier for Scott to practice flying, and Sausage figured the atmosphere there was better for him, too. With no more reason to hunt together, the wither would go off on his own at night and do things more quietly to avoid bringing negative attention back with him. It felt strange for a while without a sinister vampire to add mischief, and then it started to feel lonely, and then he began to hate having to slip away while the angel slept peacefully in the other room.

But during the day things were different. Scott’s wings echoed the sunlight, and his hair shone as if with a halo, and he wanted to do nice constructive things like plant a big garden and make a custom pond to house colorful fish he had seen while soaring over the river. Sausage helped him with all of it, adding in his own little bed of wither roses among the tall lilacs and peonies. It looked out of place to him, but Scott claimed that he liked it.

Sausage watched the sunshine dance over the angel’s feathers as he spread his wings to have a look at the garden from above. He felt sure the gray roses would be hidden from the view up there, exactly as they should be, not marring the angel’s sight.

Exactly as he should be.

He began to sneak out less frequently, and often enough he just snatched the first Enderman that he saw, but even that was starting to feel wrong. He couldn’t fight the hunger completely, though. It would tug at him until it felt like his own soul was burning, and the only way to make it stop would be to devour someone else’s.

He tried, though. It drained his energy, and he couldn’t keep up with each new thing the angel flitted to, but he tried, for Scott’s sake.

~*~

While they didn’t really have a schedule to keep, Scott noticed Sausage overslept a lot these days. He had been chalking it up to him going out at night, doing as withers do, and hadn’t said anything to him about it. Come to think of it, Sausage did tend to keep to his room sometimes and not go out at all, except when the angel asked him to help with something. Maybe he had been asking too much of Sausage lately. He had gotten so very caught up in being able to walk in the sun again that he wanted to enjoy every second of it, and since the wither wasn’t negatively affected by daylight, he figured they could share it – and in a more pleasant, peaceful way than when they had walked the night.

He had come to the realization that he wanted to share everything about his new life with Sausage.

Becoming an angel had flipped his views on right and wrong, a gut feeling that had taken time to get used to. He came to understand what Sausage had meant about following rules, and there were times when holy intuition caused him to go out after nightfall and smite some of the roaming monsters. It reminded him of a vampire’s unrelenting thirst for blood, and that made it easier to manage.

So long as it never drove him to go against Sausage, he could live with it, as well as live with the knowledge that the wither was…out there, being a threat to others.

No, that was his gut talking. He reminded himself to think with his heart, and go check on the most-likely sleeping wither.

He found Sausage in his room, lights out and head down on the desk. Scott lightly tapped his shoulder. “Sausage, wake up. You’ve been cooped up all morning, let’s go get some fresh air for a while.”

“Hmm?” The wither raised his head. “A-All right.” He pushed back the chair as he stood, lifting his hands from the desk, and took a single step before promptly collapsing.

Scott dropped to his knees at his side, reaching for his shoulder. “Sausage! What’s wrong? You- You’re shaking. What happened?”

Sausage tried to smile. “N-Nothing. I’m just a little tired.”

The light from the doorway revealed wildly churning shadows under his skin. Scott recognized what they meant. “You haven’t eaten. Sausage, why?”

He didn’t answer right away. When the angel squeezed his shoulder to encourage him to talk, he mumbled, “Stealing souls is evil. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Scott cupped the wither’s face in his hands. “A necessary evil, if it keeps you alive.” In a fit of emotion, he kissed him on the forehead. Then he helped him to sit up and lean against the wall. The shadows continued to writhe, and he began to worry about time. He clasped one of the other man’s hands. “Sausage, take some of my soul.”

“What? No, I can’t— I won’t do that to you!”

“Just a little. You have to. Sausage, look!” He brought the wither’s hand up toward his face to show the violent dance of black wisps, the hint of dark eyes and screaming mouths standing out more than ever. Then he placed Sausage’s hand against his chest, pressing against it. “Do it. I can’t lose you, not to that.”

“O-Okay… Okay.” Sausage reluctantly focused on his hand and reached out with his mind for the thread of life that allowed him to take hold of a soul. He could see it, a golden glow within Scott that had the rosy edges of a sunrise and the blinding center of an angel’s holiness. He closed his fingers slightly to grasp the energy then pulled it toward himself, careful not to completely dislodge Scott’s soul. He would only take a little, just enough to stave off those shadows.

Having never left a soul anchored before, he was not prepared for what happened next. A wave of visceral empathy crashed through his mind, and suddenly he felt everything Scott was feeling at that moment – the concern for Sausage/for his well-being, the fear of the shadows that were coming to devour him/devour Sausage, the love he held for him and was terrified to lose…

That last one caught him off guard, but he didn’t have a chance to process it. He wasn’t through all of it yet. Deep under the layers, beneath the ebb and flow, was a rock-solid kernel of guilt for ever having killed him with his own hand, the bright light of an angel snuffed out by a vampire, the thing Scott had once been but was still a part of him inside.

Sausage tried to catch hold of that guilt and make that the part of Scott’s soul that he took, but he didn’t know if it would work out that way.

“S…Sausage…” Scott’s voice – distant, ethereal – just barely reached him. “S…Stop…”

The soul in his hand flickered. Horrified, Sausage let go and pulled his mind out of the energy stream. When his eyes focused back on the material world, he saw Scott slumped on the floor in front of him, one arm out as if he had been trying to reach for him.

“No… No no no no no no!” The wither gathered him into his arms, gently rocking him. “I didn’t mean to— Please, wake up— It wasn’t supposed to go this far— I got carried away! Sausage, please! …What?” He realized he had said his own name. He looked down at Scott, and saw a pinprick of golden light over his heart, then noticed a matching glow around his hand. Those were Scott’s words, things left unspoken from when he had killed Angel-Sausage. The wither fought to uncover his own thoughts, panicking over how to sever the link. What had he done?

“Scott,” he forced the name out of his mouth, cradling the angel’s cheek with his glowing hand. “Take. It. Back.” He then pressed his hand to the spot on Scott’s chest, trying to will the energy into reversing. More emotions and thoughts flooded his mind instead.

“I would die for you. I owe you this. I’m sorry I ever hurt you. You didn’t deserve it. You were beautiful. It’s my fault you’re now this. It’s my fault those shadows will destroy you. Take my light. Fight them with it. Sausage, please. I want you to live.”

Tears streamed down the wither’s face. He hugged Scott tightly. “Not. Without. You.”

He then did the only thing he could think of doing, gingerly laying the angel down on the floor and returning his glowing hand to the matching spot, then placing his other hand against his own chest. He pictured his fingers closing around his faded, blackened soul, and focused again on his thoughts. You’re the angel now. You have to be the light in the world. We don’t both have to be in darkness. You were there long enough. Let me take the burden. What’s done is done. Let go of the guilt. Let go of ME.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Sausage dug his fingers into his own soul, putting pressure on the thread until it snapped.

~*~

The first sound that registered when Scott regained consciousness was a staccato heartbeat, which alarmed him because that was something his vampire self was always able to hear. Then he realized it was because his head was resting directly on Sausage’s chest. He carefully moved so he could sit up without disturbing him, but his next thought was to check for the shadows.

Immediately he saw that Sausage’s hair and beard were now white, and—

His face was intact.

A pang shot through Scott’s heart.

He could only assume what had occurred, but…this meant that the shadows hadn’t claimed Sausage’s soul, right? Scott reached out to tentatively touch the right side of Sausage’s face to make sure it wasn’t just an illusion, brushing his thumb over his cheek. He thought he felt the tiniest of electric jolts, but it could also have been his imagination.

Sausage stirred. His eyes opened, and they were now the color of rainclouds. He gave a little smile and brought his hand up to place it over Scott’s against his face. “That was… quite a way to find out someone is in love with you.”

Scott gave a gentle laugh then shyly glanced away. “I… didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t sure, anyway, after…everything, or if it was just some angel thing that happens.”

“No,” Sausage said softly, now reaching up to touch Scott’s face. “I don’t remember falling in love being a requirement in the angel handbook.” They shared a smile for a moment, then Sausage lowered his hand to try to sit up. Scott helped him get that far, then waited when he seemed to need a few more seconds before standing up. “My head is kind of buzzing,” Sausage explained with a meek look. “You know how the air feels right before a storm? That’s kind of how I feel.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Scott offered, keeping his arm – and one wing – wrapped around him as they slowly made their way toward the door. “I think the sun is still out. There’s still time to get that fresh air.”

Sausage chuckled and then quietly sighed.

Outside, a gathering of clouds surrounded the mountain. Sausage felt drawn to gaze up at them; then he took a deep breath. An electrostatic tension filled the air, and he stepped away from Scott, holding his hands out as if testing for rain.

There was a faint glow to his eyes for a second, then lightning danced through the clouds. A look of wonder and awe came over Sausage’s face. Then he turned back to Scott, his expression becoming serious. “I would rend the skies for you; I owe you this devotion. I will do my best to never hurt you. You deserve another chance; The shadows were never your fault. Share your light with me… I’ll share mine.”

The sky crackled. Sausage took Scott’s hand and pulled him close. The angel felt another small jolt of electricity, and he smiled softly.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

 ~End~

[Post A/N: Yeah, we're skipping over origins again. for Reasons.]

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

*crawls out of my hole and hisses at the light* Weeeeednesssdaaayyy!

Yes! Hello! It is I! I’m here! I’m ALIVE! XD

I’ve been absent for about..two weeks? Something like that. Doesn’t seem long when you put it into perspective, but the main reason was because I was having some tough days with my mind and I became fixated on Tales of Arise. 50 hours later, and here I am! Back on my shit and slowly regaining control over my brain! :D

And so to celebrate, I have Solas ANGST! AH-HA! >:D 

Thank you @noire-pandora and to all the other people who had tagged me in recent things! I’m grateful everyone still went out of their way to include me! X3

This includes some...complexities with Fane’s overall existence and a lot of things might seem vague. I introduced Tenacity and Devotion in a previous snippet, but this kind of hints at their overall role! :3c

---

“The fever has broken,” A relieved sigh passed gradually upward, curving lips and emerald eyes found their way upwards as well, shining with relief and gentle happiness as they connected with Solas’ own. 

Solas blinked before letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, feeling the same wave of relief that he could see in Devotion’s stare. So intense was the rushing of emotion he felt, that he found himself slowly doubling over, his chest and arms laying flush with the mattress and the furs where a dragon–his dragon–slumbered in peace, breathing even, face dry of sweat, and not in pain any longer. 

Fane would be fine. Tenacity had succeeded in shoring up the foundations, putting stakes to refortify the walls of being. While Solas knew this entire series of events were actually the doing of the stubborn spirit, he couldn’t feel an ounce of dissatisfaction or anger at present. The reasoning that Devotion had provided for the disconnection helped with that, but he was also exhausted–physically, mentally, and most of all, emotionally. The last week had been…arduous to endure. It brought back painful memories, ones he never wanted to relive, even if he sought to relive other aspects of the past, to witness them and remember. He would never forget what had happened so very long ago when scales were flesh and a two-toned stare was the only voice offered, he couldn’t, lest such events take place again, but he could certainly do without reminders.

“You are certain?” Solas muttered out the question into the furs, feeling numb, but worry still found a way to invade him. It was always the way of his mind to doubt, wasn’t it? To search for shadows, even when light was shining to banish them? He always grappled with ‘hope’. It instilled more fear than relief at times, as any time he had hoped, he had lost that which was precious to him. He had no reason to doubt Devotion’s assessment, she knew Fane’s make-up and circumstance better than he, and yet…

Solas’ thoughts stilled as he felt a warm hand rest against one of his shoulders gingerly, much like a mother who sought to comfort her child did. Its sudden presence had him letting out another breath, this one far shakier, far less composed. It was becoming near impossible to keep himself from crumbling, but perhaps that was for the best. A release would be welcome and it would be needed. No matter his reservations, it would be needed…   

The hand against his shoulder squeezed lightly, reassuring him, “I am certain, Fen’harel,” Devotion said, voice quiet, but holding no room for her words to be denied. “I can sense Tenacity’s presence around and within,” A warm chuckle tickled his ears, making them twitch and his body relax, “It is…strong, nearly palpable. He is no doubt cursing himself, letting fury fuel his endeavors.”

Solas let out mildly derisive snort, a tiny flicker of irritation welling up inside of him. He wasn’t sure how he could find the energy to be so, but perhaps an ember resided underneath cooled coals. The thought of Tenacity berating himself now for such irresponsibility was just…infuriating. 

“Ah, so he was not cursing himself before then?” Solas inquired, feeling the strain in his voice, as well as he could hear it, “So he was not concerned that his absence was slowly, but surely draining the life he had worked so hard to preserve?! I believe that should be a forethought, not an afterthought!

Devotion’s hand against his shoulder flinched at his words, but remained present. Solas could determine it was seeking to ground him, to offer him comfort and a silent message of, ‘I understand why it is that you’re upset.’, but truthfully, he did not need it. He was merely exhausted, all of the hidden fear coming to the forefront and dispersing in the form of venom filled words. Many in the Inquisition believed him to be cold, not easily ruffled, and oftentimes, that was an accurate assessment of his personality. Distance was necessary due to the precariousness of he and Fane’s situation, subtly was paramount. Not to mention that trust had always been rare in him, especially centuries before. 

So many second chances had been given, and each one had shattered as surely as the first. Trusting another, an entire Inquisition, was a risk Solas couldn’t afford, but yet he took it in regards to Fane. And that was understandably due to the nature of their relationship, their shared past, but it ran deeper than even that. His dragon was most likely the only one, besides spirits, that he could fully trust, could fully allow in and not fear being stabbed in the back. The passage of time had done nothing to change that.

And that life had nearly been lost because of one willful being’s oversight. Solas could feel himself getting hot with anger once again, and in an attempt to mitigate the burn those flames could potentially inflict, he brought a hand up to grasp one of Fane’s own. He needed stability, reassurance and a live pulse offered that.

Anything that drilled the statement, ‘He’s alive’ into his head offered that.

Devotion’s hand slowly began to recede from his shoulder, taking the warmth it offered with it. Her voice came slowly, quietly with the depths of remorse filling its more delicate undertones.

“We frightened you…,” she said with no small amount of certainty, “Made you and his deepest fears a near reality,” Solas heard a shift, fabric upon fabric, but he did not raise his head as Devotion’s voice came again, its tender cadence warbling with the beginnings of a sob, “It was not our intent to do so. It was not our intent to–to…mh.” 

Remorse seemed to intensify around them at that and Solas felt his body freeze at how easily Devotion had pinpointed the source of his anger. He sometimes forgot just how adept the delicate spirit was at reading not only him, but anyone she came across. She was nearly as perceptive as Cole was at hearing another’s pain. But whereas Cole reached out to any and anyone, Devotion only reached out to those she felt an acute connection to; a deep resonance within her very being.

Solas felt a tinge of guilt stir between the ire wishing to envelope him as a stifled sound of distress came from Devotion, a frown working itself onto his face that he still had dutifully hidden against the furs. His intent had not been to cause harm, but as always, his words had been poorly chosen. While he was upset and tired and utterly spent, it wasn’t right of him to thrust all of the blame onto Devotion, or even Tenacity. The two spirits had had a justifiable reason for drawing away from Fane, and it wasn’t their fault they had been forcibly removed from their host. His dragon’s more gentle occupant had explained the situation to him, regaled that an odd and sudden influx of familiar magic had turned both she and Tenacity’s heads in an instant, and said that once realizing they had been extracted from Fane’s very being had bee-lined straight to where they could feel his flagging existence. Solas was as Devotion had stated; frightened. 

Frightened at how easy it could be to have that which he cherished, that which he adored with all his heart be ripped away once again…

Solas sucked in a deep breath through his nose, releasing it on the next exhale before feeling his lips move, “...Ir abelas, Devotion. Neither you nor Tenacity deserve my anger.” he apologized with sincerity and gave Fane’s hand a careful squeeze, biting into his bottom lip when he felt the soothing thud, thud, thud of a pulse against his palm, “I am merely…” 

Darkness enshrouded him as he squeezed his eyes shut, staving off tears of both fear and relief. As much as Solas wished to raise his head and look up into purely emerald eyes, to see if his behavior had been forgiven, he couldn’t. He was fearful of seeing nothing but scorn, or worse yet, hurt. Devotion’s eyes reminded him of the deepest part of Fane’s, and he couldn’t bear the sight of potential jade right now. Hurting the motherly spirit was like hurting Fane, for the dual spirits were Fane. They were independent in their own ways, which was intriguing due to how they could merge into his dragon’s consciousness and reflect into the various panes of his personality, but they were still him. 

And just like his love, they had had no choice in the unfortunate events that befell them. Blaming Tenacity and Devotion’s unwilling and unknowing extrication was like blaming Fane for the abuse he had endured as a child. It was ignorant and it was undeserved in every way. Each may have made the first move towards those events, but deception had goaded their feet into even contemplating such movement. 

He was just…he didn’t know anymore. Tired from days and nights of constant worrying and observation, running on barely an hour of sleep and entirely forgetting to eat? Frustrated due to his lack of helpfulness when Fane had first began to show signs of sickness, of failing strength, of his own fear, and from how the other members of the Inquisition had not ceased in questioning, even when Solas had reiterated how he had no clear reasoning for what was happening? Desperate to hold onto the last thing that he could say he truly, truly loved without feeling hesitation or the dreaded sensation of inevitable parting? Perhaps it was all of those things, maybe even more, but it still didn’t justify placing blame where it wasn’t due. All that mattered, all that should ever matter in an event such as this, was that Fane was alive. He was alive and he was safe. 

Silence stretched on and on, filling the space, making him realize the further foolishness of his words, but he was loath to break it. Instead, he focused on the ambiance of life, of the gentle inhales and exhales of not only himself, but Fane. For several days that had been his only fixation, worry gnawing at his heart and mind as each breath had grown shorter, more labored, more deathly. All Solas had been able to do was watch as precious life sought to dissolve, and the spectacle had nearly torn him to shreds. He was so tired of losing, so tired of reason not aiding him when it was truly and desperately needed. 

Irrationality had festered in him as the days passed, as the nights grew unbearably long, and any self-preservation he may have had, had been thrusted over Skyhold’s ramparts along with many, many conjured boulders. In the darkest depths of his being he had receded, seeking to destroy all that dared exist while another, that he felt deserved to exist more, whittled away. Sadly, that senseless urge of destruction, of annihilation had not sated the beast that dwelt deep, and irrationality grew, his temper flared more brightly, and many members of the Inner Circle had caught the tail ends of its flames due to merely being just as worried for the state of their Inquisitor, their light. Solas knew he would need to apologize properly. Especially to Mhairi. It was sometimes hard to fully understand that he and Fane were no longer…alone. Incredibly hard.

Solas let out a tired sigh before letting his eyelids flutter open. All he was greeted with was continued darkness, but he could see tinges of candlelight at the edges of his vision. Evening, then. Time passed quickly whether one was enjoying themselves or not. How long had he sat here with the Devotion, fretting and nearly spiraling into the darkened abyss that had engulfed him once before while she remained calm and attentive to Fane’s outward condition, and Tenacity toiled away within with fervor? 

Truthfully, he had no idea. The sun had risen, the sky had turned blue and bright, then it had shifted to pink and orange, and then before he knew it, it had vanished, night cloaking the world in its blackened blanket. Now, all that remained was starlight and the moon’s glow, each source filtering in through both stained glass and simple pane. Candles had been lit, of course, mixing with paleness to offer sight and warmth, but even the memory of when he had lit them, or Devotion perhaps had lit them, was nonexistent. All Solas had been fixated on was Fane and the possibility of losing him–again. He had been so dangerously close to losing him. 

So dangerously close…

---

A long treat for your reading pleasure! A gift! :3 Solas is a mess right now. This is what happens when your lover’s very existence is heavily dependent on various factors~

Tagging (with no pressure!):

@oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @dungeons-and-dragon-age @dreadfutures @rosella-writes @drag-on-age @little-lightning-lavellan and anyone else that’d like to share something! <3

[goosedawn]

//Sjghsfb I am. so angry at myself (/Lh/J). I told myself not to forget my questions and I still did. I even wrote down some and then I LOST the paper I- [disinterested] I have a worse memory than hekin Ranboo :wheeze;

//Also. can I just say: your art just. gives me crunchy vibes. I mean this in a good way- bgbdsfs, I just. I look at it and that's the first word that pops up hghghgjdf (and like the comic design is just mmMmmM lovely-)

//But anyways, here are a few questions bgbbgjdf:

--

How did Tommy react to seeing the now borrower Wilbur? I'm gonna guess a tad bit badly from the comic expression? (Abgdjf aside all the angst, at least they get to hug, right? Tommy bitch slaps Will.)

What about Wilbur? Was he left with a jarring feeling? Did he wake up to being tiny? Or did he experience the shrinking?

Does Eret find out that Wilbur has been shrunk because of him?

What kind of side effects does Dream have to deal with? (You mentioned that he has a way so he doesn't get affected by stuff like this but has other problems.) What kind of problems does he deal with- if it's not too spolier-y?

--

Also- OOGH, can I just. ramble about how Tommy must have thought at the moment he saw Eret become human?

I would assume he'd be confused at first because it's such a surreal feeling. But that confusion would turn to dread as he hears Eret speak.

It's so loud compared to how Eret would normally speak. His normal soft, low voice is now boomingly deep and scary. (Maybe it's even louder than the other human's voices because Eret is most likely used to having to always speak a lot louder around his human friends so that loudness carries over.)

The actual understanding that 'Eret is BIG now' is slow to dawn on Tommy, but it finally crashes down as Eret grins down at him. He's filled with a sense of terror, and he has to take a second to process. But... he doesn't have a second to process because everything is moving so quickly. The feeling of betrayal hasn't even set in yet since he's so taken aback by everything.

I just. have lotta feelings :wheeze;

(And I'm sorry this is so long. I hope it's at least a little comprehensible-)

thats. SUCH a mood and ur so valid cbfkcjekdncjdbfk questions rly do be like that tho 😔

WBDJCOCHSN crunchy,,,, i told my friend this and he also verified that my art looks crunchy fhdjcbdn i dont know what to think about that ahfhfbwbfjcksnemfn but i have decided i like that descriptor :]!!

-----

ALRIGHT SO. tommy is not havin a good time, hes just been betrayed, watched his former friend become a human and NOW wilbur is a borrower?? (hes also. pretty happy after he gets over the initial shock because yes he gets to hug wilbur, and he also gets to show wilbur his room and all the cool borrower-only passageways throughout the server)

wilbur, like eret, was awake when the swap happened, although he would have lost his first life before he could register much of it. unfortunately for tommy, this means when wilbur respawns hes VERY panicked and confused. everything is so Big and Loud, but tommys presence helps to anchor him.

ehhhehhehh yes >:3c eret was not aware that they would be swapping, and well... we will see how that goes shortly. (as in im answering another ask with that fhfcichsjbfj)

im glad u asked about dreams whole thing >:D i wont say things outright but...

the best way to put it is: the trivial nature of mortal exchanges mean nothing compared to a deal made with something that an rend reality from its seams, but chooses not to because it is curious.

(and well. when you are tied to a being so powerful yet fickle, there is of course, a price to pay. especially when it does not favour you)

-----

YES YES YES YES!!

*lies down* ohhhhHHH tommy just. hearing the usually soft but deep voice being so overwhelmingly loud,,,, my heart,,

and YEAH i was thinking the same thing about eret being EVEN LOUDER- hes had to speak louder than normal for his entire life,,, but he figures it out eventually :']]

the feeling of betrayal only really begins to set in after tommy respawns, especially after seeing wilbur in front of him, terrified out of his mind.

even later when they are fleeing l'manberg after the election, tommy thinks thats the most scared he has ever seen wilbur.

[digimonloving]

Beelzemon angst anon here, that was awesome! The pain was exquisite >:D poor Beelzemon, as I got more angst...so imagine Beelzemon is doing his usual waiting for his Tamer in the digital world when suddenly the world shudders and he feels that connection with them go. Asking around with other concerned Digimons, they all learn that the connection to both their worlds is gone and with it, their tamers are no longer able to get back to them. The human world is once again separate thanks to the Digi Destined saving the world...and he didn't get a chance to say goodbye. Then many years later, the worlds merge again and he finds someone who looks like his old tamer....>:3c

A Long Wait...

When the disconnect happened, Beelzemon didn't know what to do. The Demon Lord was used to being alone, he prided himself on being able to thrive in loneliness or in a group. He took to being alone however once it happened, vanishing without a trace after asking around to the other Digimon he came to know with his Tamer and their friends.

Time in the Digital World could stretch on and on, the time different than the Real World. It felt so much longer for him. To be back in the loneliness he basked in before first meeting his Tamer. He forhot what it was like. He always woke up half expecting his little Tamer to be there, staring at him or forcing him to get up.

Time in his world went far faster than in the Real World... meaning he was alone for longer.

The sudden jolt of something woke him one day. A familiar surge. The Digital World and Real World had connected again! But something lingered in his mind... would his Tamer even remember him? Did they still care about him? He tried to shake the thoughts as he rode off on Behemoth, to the main source where the connection was strongest and where the humans would always come to see their Digimon when transporting between worlds.

A lingering ache as his mind swam with negative thoughts. What if his Tamer grew out of having a Digimon? It had been so long... time was different... what if they forgot about him -- threw away their Digivice because they never thought they'd meet again, so what would be the point in having it? He gripped harshly on Behemonth's handles, staying back a bit.

Every other Digimon that he was 'friends' with had their partner back, a happy reunion between them all from what he saw. So. Where was his Tamer? Everyone was older, as he expected, but even in the wake of them, he couldn't spot his human.

Until his eyes finally landed upon who he thought was his Tamer, but he couldn't be sure for some reason even though they stood alone as well as he did. He stayed sat upon his bike, quiet as he watched everyone with happy smiles on their face while he was farther off. Separate from the rest, as he always was.

He had seen their face, but couldn't tell if they were excited to see him. His insecurities bubbled up and got the better of him as he let his mind swim. They weren't happy to be back. They probably didn't actually want to see him again, preferring to want to go on with a normal life without him. Maybe he should leave, to let his Tamer be. Did they even notice him? Part of him hoped not, for it would make it easier for them to leave and go back home to a real life after all that time apart they probably got used to not having him by their side.

As much as he wanted to reunite, part of him couldn't initiate it. He'd probably ride off before his Tamer could get a word in or run over to him. He didn't want it to hurt them, not again.

If his Tamer wanted to see him again, they'd have to find him. Shouldn't be too hard, right? They knew where he'd be if they wanted to see him... He doubted it, but he'd still wait there if they did.

[le-amewzing]

Chop Shop

A spark of inspiration popped me back into the world of Sunshine & Rain. XD *Note: This is set after s18, so major spoilers ahead. This also, chronologically, comes before "Ghosts" in my Sunshine & Rain series of fics (because I have other ideas to write, *lol*), but you can read this on its own if you like—you just might enjoy that story, too! :3c

Fic: "Chop Shop" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Ellie Bishop & Odette Malone, with an OC (but Ellick vibes, so please tag with Ellick, ty~! c:)

Rating: K+

Words: ~1,970

Additional info: angst, hurt/comfort, 3rd person POV

Summary: Bishop and Odette make an important first stop on their new journey.

              So far, the car ride from Odette's now former home had been a silent affair. Bishop blinked, catching her reflection in the mirror outside her door, and wondered how far they'd traveled.

              "Ah, so you are awake," Odette said from the driver's seat. Bishop didn't need to glance at her to hear the smile in her voice.

              Bishop frowned at her reflection, stretched, and turned to her…what was Odette anyway? Handler? Hmm. Partner? No. Mentor? Of various things, of course. Bishop thought of her as a "companion," so she settled on that descriptor for now. "Sorry. I guess I just—needed to zone out, after everything that happened."

              Odette pursed her lips, a bittersweet, sympathetic smile there. "I understand. Yet you still came with me. You didn't change your mind."

              Ha. Bishop internally rolled her eyes. Part of her zoning out this whole time had been spent replaying that parting scene with Torres and agonizing over her decision. Had she made the right choice? Was there such a thing as the right choice in this case? Was she going to face even harder decisions from here on out?

              Leaving Nick Torres in her past felt like leaving her heart on the asphalt behind them, hoping for some vehicle to run over it and transform it into roadkill. Right now, she couldn't fathom anything harder.

              She cleared her throat, her only signal that she didn't feel like touching that topic with Odette. "How long was I, uh…"

              "Out of it?" the older woman supplied.

              Bishop nodded.

              "Around two hours. If you really need some shuteye, settle back into your seat, Eleanor. Our first destination's less than ten minutes away."

              Bishop furrowed her brow. "No, no, I'm good… Our first destination? Given your urgency, I thought we'd be, I dunno, hopping on some plane out of the country first thing or something. You still haven't even told me all the details of this op you have in mind for me."

              "All in due time."

              Bishop squinted in the light of late day and realized that this main road they were on wasn't very "main" after all. Except for the occasional mile marker, there were no nearby signs. …good grief. For all she knew, she could've been training all this time with Odette only to learn too little, too late that the woman really was a serial killer and was about to murder Bishop and, because of how Bishop had exited NCIS, no one would be in a rush to come looking for her. Here Bishop reminded herself that, no, she could trust Odette Malone and that even living legend Ziva trusted Odette Malone. But then Bishop glanced back at Odette and swallowed a nervous lump in her throat when she saw the tight frown on the woman's lips.

              "…you're not wrong," Odette said a minute later.

              Oh, God, she was even a mind reader and, yep, Ellie Bishop was finally wrong for once in her life and was about to pay for it with her life. At least she'd kissed Torres and all but told him she loved him, right?!

              Odette glanced at her and then quirked an eyebrow in response to the look of fright on Bishop's face. "Regarding getting a flight out of the United States," Odette clarified.

              "Oh." Bishop exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

              "We will do just that, eventually," Odette explained, taking an unmarked right turn, "but we need to put more distance between us and that heaviest of federal jurisdictions."

              "You think NCIS will have already put me on the no-fly list for at least the immediate area," the blonde assumed.

              Odette hummed in agreement. "Quite possibly your Director Vance's hands legally would've been tied to do so."

              "You did warn me about this part of the job."

              "I did…" Odette sighed and reached up to her hair wrap to fiddle with it with her right hand, as though adjusting a fold that were out of place. It was a nervous tic Bishop had picked up on months ago, and so far it was the only thing that ever gave away any part of Odette's true thoughts and feelings. "Creating the disgraced NSA/NCIS agent background was too good a cover to pass up, and it will come in handy, trust me." She briefly grimaced. "But it will also be a hindrance."

              Bishop fought the urge to pinch her brow in frustration. "Then what now? Hack into records and change them whenever to grant me access on an as-need basis?"

              Odette shook her head. "Dummy papers will be fine as long as you periodically change your looks. It'll be necessary, to stay one step ahead of the government and therefore out of cuffs."

              "You mean like cutting my hair, things like that?"

              "Well, we might have to be a bit more extreme at times, but hair's always the best place to start," Odette replied.

              Bishop wanted to ask her what "a bit more extreme" meant both in Odette terms and by a normal person's definition, but Odette grinned and waved in front of them up the road.

              "Ah, we're here."

              "Here" was a lone house located at the end of a dirt driveway splintering off the road they'd taken. It was oddly proportioned and painted a strange shade of beige, so one couldn't quite tell if the paint were worn and if the house had two or one and a half levels. The most commonplace thing about the sight before them was the bright red pickup truck parked in front; it gleamed, as though the driver recently had taken it for a wash.

              Odette drove over the sparse grass to the right of the home and parked in the back. "She's expecting us," Odette stated, though she lingered in the SUV while Bishop hopped out.

              A tall, stocky woman around Odette's age emerged from the back door. She wore her hair in a military-styled bob, and her skin reminded Bishop of the house's paint job until the woman smiled—then her entire demeanor brightened. "Right on time, Odette!" she called out to the SUV.

              Bishop glanced over her shoulder and saw Odette wave through the windshield before she exited and joined them. "That's just good luck," Odette insisted.

              "No, it's not," the woman replied with wide, determined eyes. She pointed at Odette with a grand finger and said to Bishop, "If magic exists, then this lady's magic power is incredible timing. She will always be precisely where she needs to be by whenever she has to be there. It's uncanny!"

              "Your exaggerations are frightening her, Donna," Odette remarked with a sigh. She went inside ahead of them.

              Donna turned to Bishop. "To Odette, exaggerations. To me and everyone else, magic," she insisted. But, aside from those wide eyes and childish enthusiasm, her smile was the most welcoming thing Bishop had seen in several hours. "As she called me, I'm Donna, hon."

              "Oh! Yes, it's nice to meet you, I'm—"

              "Raye," Odette called out to Bishop, a warning in her steely tone.

              Good timing. Despite all the drilling that, in casual settings and for some small errands, Bishop would go by her middle name, she still wasn't accustomed to referring to herself as anything except "Ellie" or even "Special Agent Bishop" now with all these years at NCIS under her belt. Heat rushed to her cheeks at the near slip-up.

              Donna winked at her. "Nice to meet you, Raye. Knowing O, you've got some place to be, so you don't have a lot of time to stick around. So come on in and let's get down to things."

              Bishop followed her through the back door, passing under a small, hand-painted sign that read "THE CHOP SHOP." Yet again questioning exactly what she'd gotten herself involved in, Bishop breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she spied the rows of high-end bottles and glasses—shampoos, conditioners, dyes in liquid and powder form. There were two chairs, too: one positioned in front of a sink and a swivel chair stationed near a table laden with an assortment of brushes, clippers, and hairdryers.

              "I'll be your stylist today, so have a seat and we'll get started," Donna told her. In the small space, she'd managed to circle behind Bishop, so she ushered the blonde towards the wash chair with a firm hand on Bishop's left shoulder.

              "You're a hairdresser?" Bishop asked, surprised.

              "These days, sure. Haven't always been, but it's fun work and you meet some characters."

              That made more sense. "I would've taken you for former military," Bishop added with her head tilted up towards the ceiling as Donna gathered her tresses in the bone-dry sink.

              "Yeah," Donna confirmed with a toothy grin. "Former Army. It's how I crossed paths with this one here," she added with a jerk of her head towards Odette.

              "Donna," Odette warned, that same steel edging her tone as it had a few minutes ago.

              Donna laughed. "But I haven't only ever been Army. You name it, I've done it."

              Bishop appreciated this little detour from the past twenty-four hours. "Hmm… Real estate?"

              Donna nodded. "Yep."

              "H.R.?"

              "For a decade."

              Odette cleared her throat. "Ladies, please set aside the guessing game. Donna, we've got another appointment after this."

              "Ah, right, right." Donna paused gathering Bishop's hair in her hands but hesitated to turn on the water. "Just a color and style? Anything more?"

              Odette walked into view and met Bishop's eyes. "It's your first major change, Raye. So I'll let you choose how drastic you'd like to shake things up."

              Bishop pursed her lips. "…there's still that charity that takes hair, right?"

              Donna resumed running her fingers through Bishop's locks. "You have plenty of inches to give, so they'd appreciate that, I'm sure."

              "Then take it."

              "You got it." As Donna began brushing her hair and braiding it before the dry cut, the stylist added, "Any other special requests?"

              Bishop chewed on her bottom lip. Since Odette's planted information had sped up the entire process of turning her into a rogue agent, Bishop hadn't given much thought to the notion of still getting to make requests, even over a small detail such as this. Even thinking back on what Odette had said in the SUV earlier, that Bishop had come along with Odette anyway and not changed her mind, Bishop had never quite imagined that she had much choice once she'd agreed to enroll in Odette's "recruitment" program.

              That made her think of Torres again. But not just him—the rest of the team, as well. They'd picked up on changes in her in the past year, little things here and there that didn't add up with the Ellie Bishop they knew and loved…

              Was it going to be so bad if she didn't look like that Ellie Bishop anymore, too? Especially since that Ellie Bishop had caused such a look of grief on Torres' handsome face when they parted…

              In spite of that memory, another one flashed in her mind's eye, of a happier smile on Torres' face from several years ago. She hadn't been the one to put it there…no, that had been the doing of pretty, redheaded lawyer-turned-witness Annie Barth, after the team solved the case with her help…but it was a sight Bishop hadn't forgotten, because it'd been her first big clue about how she felt about Nicholas Torres.

              Bishop found herself smiling, too, despite how quickly her life had been turned upside–down these past few days and hours.

              Maybe it was a symbol of the blood she had yet to get on her hands… Maybe she was curious how he'd react if he ever saw and recognized her wearing this new life… Maybe she was just ready for something "drastic," as Odette had put it.

              So she said, "Make it red."

-w- Just a little smthg self-indulgent after thinking more on "Ghosts," *lol*. There are a million and one things I wanna do with the Sunshine & Rain series, but I find it funny that, before going forward, I wanna go back just a bit. I like where this one ended—I want that last line to stick out in your mind, y'know?—but also I had some extra bits in mind…but sometimes self-editing and sometimes just not even putting an idea down works out better. :3 I did like the Annie Barth part of that s15 episode, tho, e20, "Sight Unseen," bc Annie was a rly cool lady and her chemistry with Torres was cute, *lol* (plus jelly Bishop at the diner is good). But I liked how B is less jealous here and just taking some inspo from Annie—she could always tease Torres later on that, hey, maybe like Gibbs he has a thing for redheads? XD (Alas, I doubt it, but I did enjoy the mental image of an auburn-haired Bishop from "Ghosts," so it was just fun visiting why she might've initially chosen such a color!) Also ngl when I titled this fic, I only was thinking of hair and car chop shops, so when Bishop had her little detour of "omg what if Odette's been playing the long game and she's actually a serial killer," that was the story writing itself. XD But I think it works bc we know the team canonically does movie nights and stuff, so Bishop catching a little bit of McGee's and Torres' paranoia works imo. :P Last thought: The character of Donna is me paying homage to a friend, D, who retired this past year. Like my fictional Donna, she's former military and has worked in nearly every industry, but she has more than earned her retirement—I'm just gonna miss her exuberance! I'm wishing her and her fam all the best, tho. -w-

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

did i get a new idea again? yes

Should i be editing my essay? Yes.

Do i need to write down the idea before i can do so. Yes.

so here we are:

For some reason Deceit and Remus get’s thrown out from Thomas mind into the real world.

Thomas is still functioning as if nothing happened, but he get’s the sense that something is missing, but he can’t figure out why.

they all have a bit of memory troubles at first, but it is Thomas shouting for Remus to stop it when he get one really intrusive thought, or hisses at the idea of a terrible lie, and it is light a light goes off in his head as every side and Thomas realises that the resident snake and chaos side are gone.

It is months later before Thomas accidentally runs into Deceit, and he is nothing alike how he was before, he is dressed in less dramatic clothing, a old worn looking beanie and makeup concealing his scales. Thomas blurts out his name and Deceit panics, because he has no idea who this person who just ran into him is, why he looks like him, so he runs. Thomas cries out his name again and give chase. Fuelled by Virgil’s panic that if Deceit get’s away they won’t see him again.

Thomas manages to corner Deceit in a dead end, and is trying to get the panicking side to calm down, but not succeeding. Remus comes crashing down from above the roofs, snarling at them and getting protectively in front of Deceit, hair wilder, eye shadow smeared around his eyes and on his cheeks like war paint. and Dressed in a leather jacket and a somewhat torn Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Before Thomas can do anything but yelp, Roman appears between them. Deceit flinches and hides behind a box when a Person suddenly appears out of nowhere! Remus just growls and tries to make himself seem bigger.

Fight? no fight?

Somehow they manages to get Deceit and Remus back to Thomas’s apartment. Thomas is pacing back and forth in thought, Logan asking the two lost sides questions, Roman looks lost and torn, Virgil watches silently from the stairs, grabbing the banister in a white knuckled grip from worry. Patton is making sure Deceit and Remus eat something, because despite not being real, they still need to eat. and he manages to make Deceit remove the make up that was irritating his scales from how much he put on and for so long.

If they manages to remember or not i don’t know, depends on if you want it end with angst or not >:3c

[duskroots]

timeline #3 on that ask post for whoever you want to talk about! :)

How about some angst? Meeting Pops was one of the most important things in Cara’s life, after all. :3c Papaver belongs to my darling @sylvari-bouquet <3 (As does Dinadan oops...)

3. the timeline in which something important to them happened in a different stage of life.

Caradoc already regretted that he agreed to this. 

He found Dinadan irritating enough, but his fellow secondborn was even more insufferable when he was gloating like he was right now, mocking the miserable state of his newest prisoner. But there was also something dangerous to the innocuous looking pink sylvari, so Caradoc endured his presence with quiet dignity. 

Everyone in the court was dangerous in their own right, Caradoc knew that well enough, but his gut instinct told him that Dinadan was someone he definitely should not cross, that where others had a bark that was worse than their bite this one had an edge to him that would mercilessly cut anyone who displeased him. 

And in the many years he had spent with the court since its founding Caradoc’s gut instinct had never failed him - it’s how he survived this long in the first place.

So when Dinadan showed up at the outpost Caradoc was in charge of and asked - no, demanded - to have a cell prepared, Caradoc didn’t question it. He hoped the sooner this prisoner was locked away, the sooner Dinadan would just leave.

It seemed that the sylvari Dinadan had brought in wasn’t a stranger to him though, which definitely piqued Caradoc’s interest enough to take a second look at them, so once Dinadan had finally taken his leave Caradoc return to the cells and stepped closer to the one housing their newest “guest”.

The prisoner was slumped against the farthest side of the thorny cell, which wasn’t that far at all considering it was rather small, their purple bark covered in fresh bruises and gashes. There were chunks of their deep green ferns missing in places, and despite their best efforts to make themself small it was a futile effort since it was obvious they were on the taller side.

Dinadan’s goons had clearly roughed them up pretty good, and yet whoever they were, it would only get worse from here on out for them.

Caradoc felt no pity, however. Why should he? Nobody had ever felt pity for him either. The world was a cruel place, and the sooner another dreamer learned the truth about it the better for them.

He decided that he had seen enough, but as Caradoc turned around to leave there was a scrambling noise behind him, and he felt a hand grabbing his leg.

A hoarse, desperate voice came from the cell. Pleading with him, begging him to let them go. 

Caradoc whirled around without hesitation, freeing his leg and kicking the prisoners hand away in one swift, powerful motion.

A cracking noise. 

A scream.

Disdain was written all over Caradoc’s face as he looked down at the prisoner who was now cradling their broken hand and weeping silently. He’d have to explain that to Dinadan later.

Without another look at the pathetic sylvari in the cell Caradoc turned around and left. In the end, they were just another prisoner like everyone else who had sat in this prison before them. 

Not worth his time.

[faerieyoongles]

Fresh Air

Stoner!Jimin x Ghost!Reader

Genera: ANGST, fluff if you squint, (a bittersweet ending)

Summary: Being dead was extremely lonely, there’s nobody to hang out with or talk to. All you really can do is follow around your friends and family and help them try and move on with their lives. You were convinced you’d spend the rest of your days wallowing in depression and self pity, until one day you met Jimin. It’s odd really, you’ve never heard of someone only being able to talk to ghosts when they’re high.

Warnings: mentions of drug use, death/suicide, harsh language

You’re dead.

You’ve been dead for almost three years now. One tragic summer day, you decided to drive yourself to the movies to meet a couple of friends, on the way there, they texted you asking if you’d pick up some snacks to sneak in. You were typing a reply when all of a sudden you found yourself driving on the wrong side of the road. 

You can probably guess what happened next. The doctors say you were killed instantly on impact. Of course your friends never really forgave themselves, even though it was only your fault for texting and driving. Your parents’ relationship when you were alive was already pretty rocky, but once their only child died they just couldn’t even stand to look at each other anymore, so eventually they got divorced.

Needless to say, being dead sucked. You had to watch your loved ones suffer, and there wasn’t really anything you could do about it. Sometimes you’d try and send them messages, whether it was through dreams, songs, whispers, smells, anything you could gather enough energy to do. Most of them just rode it off as a coincidence, but a small few found comfort in your signals. Your dad never really got the hint, your mom however did and she still talks to you every night, even though you can’t really reply back.

After three years, your friends and family have finally started moving on with their lives. Doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten about you, most of them still visit your grave now and then, but they’re all doing better now. You don’t feel the need to watch over them as much anymore, which to you is a relief. It’s nice to not have to worry about them all the time, but now you’re not really sure what to do. The after-life is pretty boring. There’s no one to hang out with or talk to, you can’t watch tv unless someone who’s alive turns it on (plus you never get to pick the channels anyways), you can’t ride roller coasters, can’t shop or spend money, can’t swim, can’t read books, nothing. All you really can do is watch the world turn around you and try to live your (after) life through the lives of others. Every once in a while you’d meet another spirit, and you’ve made a few friends, but most of them are too preoccupied with watching over families of their own. It’s not like you have a phone to keep in touch with them either.

In all honesty, you thought you were gonna be alone forever, but eventually all that changed for you.

As mentioned before, your loved ones were healing much better now, so every once in a while you’d wander off to do some exploring. Your favorite thing to do was to walk down the street and follow random people around, see what their lives are like.

It was mid-January in the big city of Seoul, and you’ve opted to follow around this old lady with a basket of bread. She was throwing it on the ground to feed the pigeons, which was a sweet aesthetic compared to the hostile civilian life that surrounded the area. You were trying your best to direct the pigeons towards her. Apparently, animals can sense spirits a lot better than humans can.

“Come on, little guys” you said in frustration “walk over, come on.” Pigeons are difficult birds to deal with, you realized. It was worth it though, the old lady seemed satisfied with the cluster of pigeons gathered around her.

You were in the midst of chasing down a stray pigeon who was running off in the other direction, when all of a sudden you hear a loud “Oof!” You look over to find someone had run into and almost knocked over the old lady. Luckily, she was fine, but the bastard had just taken off in the other direction running. You ran back over to make sure she was okay, not that you could really do much to help anyways.

“Watch it!” the old lady croaked at the young man who pushed into her. He didn’t stop running though, it must have not concerned him. Just a few seconds later, another young man came running past, it looked like he was chasing after the first guy. You decide to run and follow him. Maybe if you were strong enough to, you could give them a scare or something. After three years you’re still not the best at using your limited energy to interact with the outside world, but maybe you could give it a shot.

You started running after the two boys. Being dead meant you were never really tired, you could probably chase after them for hours and you’d be completely fine, so needless to say, catching up with them wasn’t much of a problem.

The boys chased after each other for three blocks. By the looks of it, the boy being chased had a bag in his hands, so naturally you assumed the second boy had something stolen from him and he was desperate to get it back.

“Jeon!” The second boy yelled. “I swear to god, I’ll kill you!” The Jeon boy ignored him and kept running.

Impressively, they ran for quite some time. The boy named Jeon eventually cornered himself in an alleyway, much to his misfortune. This allowed you and the second boy to finally catch up.

“Give me my money, Jungkook.” The second boy threatened. “You said you’d have it, so where is it.”

“I don’t got it, okay?” Jungkook pleaded. “But I’ll get it to you.”

“That’s what you said last time.” He was clearly angry and annoyed.

“Awe, come on, Hyung!” Jungkook smiled, trying to bring the mood down. “You honestly believe I’d lie to you.”

“You did lie to me! You lied to me last time I tried to sell to you and you lied to me today! I just had to chase you for three fuckin’ blocks because you tried to steal from me!”

Jungkook kept his smile on his face. He was clearly younger than the other boy, but didn’t seem much threatened by him. From what you could gather, the boys knew each other well.

“Relax, Jimin hyung. It’s not a big deal.”

“I swear to god I could kill you right now!” The boy, you now know is named Jimin, tried to swing at Jungkook, but he easily dodged it with a smirk.

“Okay fine.” he emphasizes. “Here’s your weed then. I don’t want it anyways.” Jungkook throws Jimin the bag, Jimin catches it and puts it in his pocket.

“You still owe me. You still haven’t paid me for the last time, or the time before that, or before that, or-” Jimin was cut off

“Okay! Yeah, I get it. How much do I owe you?”

“About a thousand.” Jimin stated.

“A thousand!? Nuh-uh, no way. There’s no way I owe you a thousand.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s probably about half of that!.”

“I keep tabs, Kook.” Jimin pulls out a little book with a list of clients and the money he made. He brings the book over to show Jungkook. “See, you haven’t paid me for over a year. I let it go for a while, but I’m gonna need that money eventually, and I’m not giving you anymore ‘til I get it.”

Jungkook huffs “Fine, whatever.” He then storms out of the alleyway, clearly annoyed at his friend.

“And don’t even try getting some from Yoongi hyung. I already told him not to give you any.” Jimin shouts back. Jungkook just shoots him the middle finger and he disappears around the corner. “Sheesh, that kid.” Jimin says to himself, unaware you’re standing next to him.

You found yourself observing him. His face seemed innocent and slightly feminine, but his eyes were low and angry. He wore a black sweatshirt and ripped jeans. His boots were worn and dirty and his laces had been removed. He had a whole story draped across him, and you found yourself desperate to read it. Some things about him were obvious, like the fact he dealt weed and smoked a shit ton of it. You could smell it on him from a mile away. He didn’t have much money, but he did make a decent amount from selling drugs. His hair was blonde and messy, probably from running three blocks. He was fit, so maybe he played sports or worked out?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Jimin pulled out his phone and started talking to someone. 

“Hello? Hyung? Yeah, he didn’t have the money. Again. Yes, I got it back. Alright. Yeah, I know. I’m coming back now, then. Okay.” He hung up the phone and started to make his way out of the alley and down the street. Before you could stop yourself, you started following him. It’s not like you had anything better to do anyways.

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

You followed Jimin for half a block until you reached his small apartment. It was a beaten up building in the middle of Seoul. You recall your parents telling you to stay away from that area when you turned 18 and finally started driving. It wasn’t the most glamorous of places, but Jimin looked pretty comfortable with his surroundings. The atmosphere suited him, he walked the streets like he’s walked them for years.

When reaching the building, Jimin opened the door wide enough so luckily you could slip in too. You trailed behind him as he made his way up the withered staircase and ended his journey on the third floor. He stopped at a door labeled 3C, took out a key and slipped it into the lock. After unlocking the door and making his way inside, he was greeted by two older boys who you assumed were his roommates.

“Jiiimmiinnnn!!” one of the boys shouted. Much like Jimin, he had a soft feminine face that looked much too innocent for the life he was living. His hair was bright red and his heart shaped smile framed his teeth perfectly. “I missed you~!” The boy said lazily. From the musty smell in the air, you could clearly tell that both the boys sitting on the couch were high out of their minds. “Did you bring anything to eat?”

“No, sorry” Jimin replied, placing his keys on the kitchen counter. “Do we not have any food here?”

“None that he wants to eat.” Replied the other boy. The second roommate was taller than the other two boys. His skin and hair was the color of honeycomb giving him a fiery tan. He slouched on the couch in a leather jacket and a blunt in his hand.

“I’ve said before that Doritos make my stomach hurt.” Said the first roommate.

“Everything makes your stomach hurt, Hoseok.” said the second roommate.

Jimin was searching the cabinets for something to eat, he eventually discovered a box of instant mac and cheese.

“Namjoon hyung, is this yours?” Jimin asked the second roommate. Namjoon just shook his head. Jimin then made his way to a lower cabinet and pulled out a pot to fill with water.

You realized pretty quickly Jimin was making himself food for his eventual case of the munchies. You knew you didn’t want to wait around and watch him get high, so you did some exploring. The kitchen and the living room were connected. On the right side of the living room was a hallway that led to three bedrooms and one bathroom. It was a small apartment, and it was clear none of the boys made the effort to keep it clean. There were clothes and dirty dishes everywhere. Lots of wrappers from food (and condoms but you chose to ignore those) and empty bottles. You found a few bags that had previously held weed in it. Underneath the cabinet in the bathroom was where you found their merchandise. There were two small plants with a purple light hanging above it. You didn’t know much about growing marijuana but you assumed that that’s exactly what its purpose was. You explored the three bedrooms and concluded that the last room on the left was Jimin’s. It was a small room with a wooden bed frame, a wooden desk, and a wooden bureau. All the furniture looked like it came from the same place, or maybe it was here when he moved in. Out of all three of the rooms, Jimin’s room was the cleanest (although it still wasn’t very clean). You noticed a picture frame on one of the back corners of his desk. It had a picture of him and a little boy, both smiling. He looked vastly different in the photo than he did in real life. His hair was black and his clothes were brightly colored. His face was still soft but he didn’t have the same angry eyes he had now. His cheeks were rosy, as well as the young boy’s next to him. You stared at the picture for a while. You concluded that Jimin was a very handsome boy, even more handsome when he was happy. By comparison to the weed induced Jimin that sat in living devouring a box of Mac and Cheese, the Jimin now was not nearly as happy as the Jimin in the photograph.

You made your way back to the living room after snooping around the strangers apartment. All three of the boys had blunts in their hands and smoke spilling from their lips. The TV was now on, and they were all focused on watching an Iron Man movie. You sat on the armchair that was placed next to the couch, deciding that you too would watch the movie. You didn’t find much interest in the film though, your eyes kept moving back to Jimin, watching him and his movements. After a while, he decided he wasn’t all that interested in the movie either.

“I’m gonna go take a nap.” He said, placing his dirty bowl on the coffee table. The two other boys just hummed in acknowledgment. You followed him down the hallway to his bedroom, there he shut his door behind him and sat on the floor. Leaning up against his bed, he just stared up at his ceiling. You sat down on the chair at his desk.

Honestly, following Jimin around was pretty boring. The day was getting late and you knew your mom would start saying goodnight to you soon, so you thought maybe now would be a good time to make your way home.

“Whoa! You scared the shit outta me!” Jimin yelled all of a sudden, scaring you in the process. You looked at him to see what the problem was. To your surprise, he was staring straight at you, but there was no way he was talking to you. You’re dead, and the only people who ever talk to you are other spirits, mediums, and sometimes animals, maybe children if they’re pretty intuitive. You looked behind you to see if maybe someone had walked in, but there was no one there. You looked back at Jimin confused. He was still staring at you. “Did Namjoon Hyung bring you here?” He asked. “He’s always bringing girls home but never telling them to leave.” he chuckled. You, however, were still very confused. Was he really talking to you?

“Uh?” Was all you could say. This was your first time having an actual conversation with a living person since you died. Jimin just kept looking at you, waiting for a response. “No, I just- um..” How would you even go about telling him your a ghost and you followed him home because the after life is boring as fuck.

“Was it Hobi then?” He asked. “I swear to god, I need to get my own place.”

“No, I came here on my own.” You replied, hesitantly. Your social skills have clearly declined in the past three years.

“Oh, well are you here to buy then?” He asked. “‘Cause I have a bag ready that was supposed to go to another client.” At this point you were certain he was talking to you, and you started freaking out a little bit. How come he could see you now but he couldn’t before? Could he see you before but just chose not to acknowledge you?

“Um no…” You said “I’m not exactly… uh.. alive, I guess.”

“Ha!” Jimin laughed “Aren’t we all.”

“No, I mean-” You cut yourself off with a huff. It was pointless trying to explain and you should probably just leave, but you hadn’t had a human interaction in so long that you just could help but try and see where this conversation would go. “I don’t know how to explain.”

“Okay?” Jimin questioned. You wondered why he didn’t just kick you out. You were a stranger just chilling in his bedroom and he seemed to have no problem with it. You figured he’s pretty used to being high around random people. He just kept staring at you, it made you feel like you were under his microscope. You weren’t sure how to act, what to say, what to do, so you kinda just sat there. “You’re pretty cute.” He said outta nowhere. “What’s your name?”

“Um, Y/N” you spoke quietly. You had your hands in your lap and were playing with your fingers. Jimin averted his eyes down and watched your fingers squirm with each other.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Jimin.”

“Hi, Jimin.” You said back. It got silent for a moment. The situation you got yourself in was very awkward indeed.

“I’m dead.” You said out of the blue. Maybe if you just said it, ripped it off like a band-aid then it wouldn’t be so painful trying to spill it out.

“Dead?” He asked. He still wasn’t clearly understanding who and what he was talking to.

“Yes.” You confirmed. “As in, like, I was living once, and now I’m not.” You were still twirling your fingers together, nervous how he’d handle that information, if he could even understand what you were trying to tell him.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Jimin said. He obviously wasn’t comprehending what you were telling him, but at least you tried. 

Just then, Hoseok came bursting in the room. “Jimin!” He said, “Me and Namjoon are going to go g-” He cut himself off with a little laugh “Why are you sitting alone in the dark?”

“Alone?” Jimin asked. He looked back at you with a confused look on his face. “Did you not see Y/N?” He then pointed to you, as if Hoseok was the one that was tripping balls. You looked at Hoseok, and he looked over to the chair you were sitting on.

Hoseok let out a laugh. “Dude, I think you’ve been smoking too much of that shit.” he pointed to the blunt in Jimin’s hand. “Anyways, Me and Namjoon are going to Yoongi and Jin’s place, they’re having like a small party thing. You wanna come?” Jimin was still shocked and confused as to why Hoseok couldn’t see you. Was what you had said really true? But there’s no way, it’s not like ghosts were actually a thing, were they?

Jimin took a moment to respond. “Uh, n-no I’m okay. I’m still pretty tired.”

“Are you getting sick?” Hoseok asked, Jimin's face was getting whiter and whiter the more he stared at you. “Just get some sleep and you’ll probably feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah, I will.” Jimin said.

“Okay, well, see you later then.” And with that, Hoseok closed Jimin’s door and left.

The air in the room was thicker now that it was just you and Jimin again. Jimin was just staring at the wall with wide eyes and a pale face. You figured it was probably best to let him speak first.

Jimin then cleared his throat. “So, you’re dead.” He said slowly.

“I’m dead.” You confirmed with a head nod.

“How?” He asked.

“Well, I won’t bore you with the details, but don’t text and drive.” You chuckled. Jimin didn’t chuckle back. “Uh.. Three years ago I was on my way to see a movie with some friends and they texted me when I was about three blocks away. I’m kind of an idiot and paid more attention to my phone than I did to the road. Next thing I knew I was in the left lane and there was a giant storage truck coming my way.”

“Oh, that sucks.” He said, still staring at the wall, not daring to look at you anymore.

“Yeah, it does.” You said.

“Did it hurt?” He asked.

“Um.. probably. I don’t remember much of the dying part. All I remember is being scared that a truck was coming my way, next thing I knew I was standing over my body watching myself bleed out on the side of the road.” Retelling your death never got easier for you, the whole thing was pretty traumatic. You waited for Jimin to respond, but like before he just kept staring at the wall. 

“That’s rough.” He said. He finally looked at you. He was lightening up a bit, he didn’t look as pale as before but he still looked pretty freaked out from the whole thing. It probably would’ve been better if you had just left when you wanted to. “How-” He cleared his throat “ah- why are you here now? I mean- here in my apartment.”

“Oh,” You figured it probably be fair to explain why you were creepily sitting in his room without his consent. “I’m pretty bored, most of the time. I saw you chasing that boy down the street earlier today and I figured, you know, I’ve got nothing better to do.” You awkwardly chuckled. You realized you basically just told him you’ve been stalking him for most of the day for absolutely no reason other than you had nothing else to do. “I mean, it’s kind of a thing I do. It’s not like I can go out and do anything else, you know. Being dead isn’t exactly exciting.”

“I see.” He replied. The moment went dull and neither of you knew what to say. You figured he was still trying to comprehend the whole ghost thing, and you didn’t know what to do to make him feel better about it. This is the first time a living person has seen you entirely, so you were a little uneducated on how to approach the situation. Jimin just kept staring at that wall, like it was the most interesting thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

The day was starting to turn to night, and you knew this situation was never gonna get any better. Besides, your mother was waiting for you. You abruptly sat up to leave.

“Where’re you going?” Jimin asked, finally turning his head to look at you.

“Um, to see my mom.” You replied. “She usually talks to me before she goes to bed, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Oh,” He said. Was he really upset you were leaving? He didn’t look thrilled to have you there in the first place. “Will you be back?” You were confused. Does he want you to stay?

“Uh, Maybe?” You said. “If that’s what you want.” Jimin nodded his head.

“I’ve never met a ghost before.” He chuckled. “Is it wrong to be curious?”

“No, not at all.” You stated. “You just looked a little freaked out.”

“Oh, I am. But that’s what makes this fun.” He laughed. At this moment you concluded you liked Jimin. He was soft and quiet, but weird in an intriguing way, plus you now had a friend to talk to. You figured visiting Jimin on a daily basis wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Okay then.” You said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” And with that, you left.

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

The next day seemed to come slower than you wished it did. When you arrived at your old house the night before, you listened to your mother talk to you for about half an hour. 

She told you about her new boyfriend named Atticus. He was a pharmacist who your mom met about a year ago. You liked Atticus. Every once in a while he would go with your mom to help her place flowers around your grave. You once followed them around on one of their dates. He really was a sweetheart. You wished you could've seen them together when you were alive, you knew you would’ve liked him then too. In all honesty, the main reason you liked Atticus so much is because he’s been a huge help in helping your mom move on with her life. It gives you comfort knowing your mom is being taken care of by someone who truly appreciates her.

Other than talking about Atticus, your mom mentioned something about finding an old box of yours. There were old photos, old clothes, shoes, toys, basically anything your mom couldn’t find herself to throw away. She said that in the box she found a letter that you wrote to your dad on his 50th birthday. It was basically telling him how much you loved him and how happy you are to have him in your life. She said that she wants to mail it to him, but she doesn’t know where your father moved to.

 After your death and after the divorce, your dad kinda went MIA. Even you don’t know where he ended up. You went to visit him one day in the apartment he rented nearby and he just wasn't there anymore. Apparently, your mom didn’t know where to find him either. It worried you, not knowing where your dad ended up. You didn’t even know how to look for him either, it’s not like ghosts can use the internet.

After your mom went to sleep, you searched the house for the letter she was telling you about. You found it lying on the living room coffee table, along with the rest of the box she mentioned. Even if you could find your dad’s address, how would you let your mom know where he lived? How could you possibly get someone from the outside world to deliver this letter for you?

The next morning, you went to the same neighborhood Jimin lived in. You promised him you would go and see him again, but he was also stoned so you wondered if he even remembered the conversation from the night before. Either way, it was better than doing nothing.

Surprisingly, you remembered where his apartment building was. You were kinda proud of yourself for being able to navigate yourself through an unfamiliar area. When approaching the building, you found Jimin sitting on the steps with his hood up and his earbuds in.

“Hello again!” You said enthusiastically. He gave no response though, he just kept staring off into the distance. Was he not able to see you? You waved your hand in front of his face to get his attention, but he looked right through you as if you weren’t there. “Great.” You said melodramatically. You were invisible again. Basically this whole trip was pointless ‘cause there’s no way you can interact with him now. If Jimin couldn’t see you now, then how come he could see you the night before? Was it because he was high? You haven’t heard of someone only being about to see ghosts when they’re intoxicated, but it seemed like that was the only explanation.

Jimin checked his wrist watch. He must have been meeting someone, because after he put his wrist down he got up and started walking. You decided you’d follow him. Jimin walked about a block before he got to an alleyway. What was with this kid and alleyways? Is that the only place he could do his deals? When approaching the alleyway, there were two boys waiting there for him. One of the boys you recognized from before, Jungkook. The other boy looked unfamiliar to you, but upon observing him he looked about the same age as Jimin.

“Taehyung!” Jimin shouted with a smile on his face, taking his earbuds out. You guessed that Jimin and Taehyung must have been close since they both looked so happy to see each other. “It’s been too fucking long!” Jimin hurriedly approached Taehyung and Taehyung wasted no time in wrapping his arms around him and picking him up.

“I missed you!” Taehyung laughed into Jimin’s shoulder. It was endearing watching the two boys be reunited. You found yourself laughing along with them.

“Sheesh, do y'all need a room or something.” Jungkook sneared. “There’s a motel around the block ya know.”

“Oh fuck off.” Jimin said. The two boys released each other. “You’re just mad I won’t sell to you anymore.” Jungkook just huffed in annoyance.

“Speaking of.” Said Taehyung. “I’ve got about one fifty on me, is that enough?”

“Yeah, that should be good.” Jimin said. He pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket and in return Taehyung gave him the money.

“Thanks.” Said Taehyung. Jungkook started walking over from the spot he had previously been residing in. He pulled a wad of cash out from his pocket.

“Here.” He said sternly, holding out the money. “That’s three hundred.”

“Oh wonderful!” Jimin said sarcastically. “Only 7 more to go!”

“You’re lucky I even have any money at all. I’m already so behind on my rent.”

“Oh, poor baby.” Jimin teased while tossing the hair of the younger one. Taehyung seemed to find Jimin teasing hilarious.

“Oh, fuck off” Jungkook spat. Neither of the boys seemed to take Jungkook seriously.

“Remember when Jungkook was little and actually nice to us?” said Taehyung.

“Good times. What ever happened to you, Kook?” Jimin teased.

“Drugs.” Taehyung chuckled heavily. It suddenly got quiet between the three of them. It seemed that underneath the thin layer of jokes the boys were tossing around, lay the undeniable and cold truth. Upon observing their body language and their conversation, you figured Jimin must have known these boys since childhood.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed “That’s what happened to us all. You take care of him though.” He lightly hit Taehyung's shoulder to show he was directing his statement toward him. “I feel like I don’t see him enough to check up on him.”

“I’m not a baby.” Jungkook sneered. “I don’t need to be checked up on.”

Taehyung just laughed at the youngest’s remarks. “Yeah, I will.” It was quiet between the three of them again. None of them knew how, but they all suddenly got really nostalgic really quick. “We better get going, Kook. If we’re late again Seokjin hyung is gonna flip.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook agreed.

“You should swing by the garage sometime.” Taehyung said to Jimin. “We all miss you.”

“I will.” Jimin said. “I’ve just been busy lately, but I’ll find the time. Isn’t it Yoongi hyung’s birthday next week?” The two other boys nodded. “I’ll be around that day then.”

“Can’t wait!” Taehyung exclaimed.

The boys left the alleyway and Jimin made his way back to the apartment. You, of course, followed close behind him. You followed him until he was back in his apartment and sitting on the couch. Namjoon and Hoseok must have been out because it was just Jimin sitting alone, smoking and watching TV. You wondered if he had any other hobbies.

After about half an hour of you watching the show Jimin put on, you heard a “You’re back!” come from the spot Jimin sat in. You looked over at him to find he finally noticed your presence.

“Hello again.” You said back.

“I missed you.” Jimin smiled.

“Missed me?” You asked. Jimin nodded his head.

“I had some questions I wanted to ask you. If that’s alright with you?”

“Mhmm” You hummed in approval. “Ask away.”

“Okay.” he started. “What’s it like being dead?”

“Well, it's extremely boring. Sometimes it’s frustrating because you don’t have any control over what goes on in the outside world.”

Jimin nodded. “Makes sense.” He lifted his arm to bring the blunt to his lips. He inhaled and paused for a moment, like he was thinking. As he breathed out, he asked “What happens when we die? Is there like a heaven and hell kinda system? Like do we go somewhere first and then decide if we want to walk around and be a ghost?” Geez, this kid’s got a lot of questions.

“Uh, I honestly don’t know. It’s not like I was given a ‘How To Be Dead, For Dummies’ book. If there is a heaven -or a heaven like place- then I have no idea how to get into it.”

“Well maybe you have some unfinished business you have to complete first?”

You chuckled “Of course I have unfinished business. I died at the age of 20, nobody plans on dying that young.” Sitting up a little, you sighed. “I just have no idea what it is I need to finish. Even if I did know, I’m not very good at manifesting energy to manipulate the living world.”

Jimin thinks for a second, taking in another puff “Being dead sounds like it…. sucks, to be honest.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

He held his breath again, but this time without the smoke filled in his mouth. He looks you up and down, clearly thinking about something. For some reason, you stare back. “I want to help you.” He says, “Whatever it is that you never got to finish, I want to help you finish it.”

You stop breathing for a second. After three years all you’ve wanted was help. Wandering alone in a world where you have no answer to anything is frightening. “That’s sweet, but I already told you, I don’t even know what my unfinished business even is.” You then suddenly remember the letter from the night before. You must have gasped a little because Jimin’s face lights up along with your own.

“What?” He asked.

“Actually, there may be something you can help me with.” You say. “I can’t find my dad.”

Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, join the party.”

“No, I mean,” You huff out a laugh. You guessed before that Jimin came from a broken home. He just confirmed your suspicions. “After I died, I lost track of where he went. I went to visit his apartment one day and he just wasn’t there anymore. My mom found an old letter I wrote to him when I was 16 and I want to get it to him.”

“And you think that will help with your unfinished business?”

“I mean, everyone else from my life has gotten better. I don’t have to worry about them anymore. But my dad……. I guess I just want to make sure he’s okay. I don’t know how I could move on with at least seeing him again.”

Jimin nods his head. “Yeah, alright. I’ll help you.”

“Thank you!” You squeal, jumping out of the seat you were sitting in. Jimin chuckles at your reaction. “I don’t know how I’m gonna repay you.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He dismisses. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

“I thought you said you were busy though?” You questioned. He looked at you confused.

“What?”

“When you were talking to those boys earlier, you said you’ve been too busy to be able to see them.”

Jimin laughed. “How long have you been following me around, Y/N?” You blushed in embarrassment. Did it make him uncomfortable that you’ve just been following him around without him knowing?

“Uh, I found you sitting on the steps earlier. I tried to say hi, but you didn’t see me.”

“Oh.” Jimin said, shocked. “Yeah I didn’t. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Most people don’t see me.” You awkwardly chuckled. “I figured it was because you were sober.”

He chuckles at your comment “You think I’m some sort of stoner psychic.” Jimin smirked. “Huh” he raises his hand to his mouth again to take another puff.

“I’ve never heard of someone only being able to interact with spirits when they’re high, but I’ve definitely seen weirder things.” You say.

“I’ve always been able to see weird things when I’m high. I usually just got made fun of for it. Plus, everybody sees bizarre things when they’re high so I just thought it was normal”

“Weird things?” You asked. “Like what? What do you usually see”

“Like random people that weren’t actually there. Or faces that show up out of nowhere. Anytime I mentioned it my friends would just tell me I smoked too much.” He shrugged.

“Huh. Weird.” You said.

“Indeed.” He confirmed. He took what was left of his blunt and put it out in a little ash tray that sat in the center of the coffee table. He wiggled the top around for a few seconds while smoke escaped through the sides, he then finally lay the stick down in the center of the tray. “Anyways, about your dad. I got a buddy who’s really good at tracking people down.” He looked at you. “It’s not exactly legal though.”

You shrugged “I’m dead, it’s not like I can get in trouble for it. I’m cool with it if you are.”

“Alright then.” Jimin got up from the couch. “Follow me then.” He then led you to the front door and out of the apartment.

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

You followed Jimin downtown, about an half an hour walk from his apartment. You expressed your concerns about him walking around the city being as high as he was. He told you that half the people that lived in this area were intoxicated with much more dangerous drugs, and that he does it all the time. You scolded him for that last part as well. He must have not taken you seriously, ‘cause after your five minute rant about how dangerous it all was, he just called you adorable. You kept nagging him about it the whole walk and he just kept smiling at you. He really did have a nice smile.

Eventually, you both reached an auto-shop labeled “Min and Kim Auto Repair”.

“These are some old buddies of mine.” Jimin said to you. “If they can’t find your dad then nobody can.”

“Really?” You laughed. “A car shop?”

“It’s a front.” Jimin said. “Or it was, until Yoongi and Jin found out they both enjoyed fixing cars more than they did selling drugs.”

“I see.” You said. You followed him inside. 

The shop was small, but it was well kept and obviously the owners put a lot of effort into it. Jimin led you to a small office in the back corner. He must have come here a lot, none of the employees seemed to question his presence or stop him from going into a room that was clearly meant for employees only. Jimin opened the door, allowing you to go in before him.

The room he brought you to was a break room. It had a small kitchen area with a fridge, microwave, a diry counter, and a sink that looked like it didn’t work anymore. There was a couch, clearly damaged but held together with duct tape.There were lockers on one side of the wall and tables on the other. Out of the whole shop, this room looked like it was cleaned the least.

“Chimmy!” Said a man walking in from one of the doors on the opposite side of the room. He looked older than Jimin did, and a lot healthier too. He was very handsome. Broad shoulders and a lean torso. You found yourself staring a little too hard. Jimin seemed to notice too.

“Drool much?” He whispered to you. You just blushed, embarrassed you got caught staring at his friend.

“I missed you, Chim!” The man reached over to where Jimin stood and pulled him in for a hug.

“I told you not to call me that.” Jimin said, embarrassed into the man’s shoulder. You’d be lying if you said we weren’t a little jealous he got to feel his shoulders and you didn’t. It was moments like these when being dead really sucked balls. 

“You haven’t been here in weeks.” Said the man. Now that he was closer to you, you got a better look at him. He had a name embroidered into his jacket that read ‘Seokjin’.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I’ve just been busy.” Jimin replied. You knew now that he was lying, but you couldn’t help but wonder what his real reason was. “I’ll try and come more often.”

“You better.” Said Seokjin.

“I actually need your help with something.” Jimin said, hesitantly. “And I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s important.”

Seokjin’s face dropped and he sighed. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to be involved in your messes anymore.”

“I know, but it’s super important and I swear this is the last time I’ll ask.”

Seokjin sighed again. “Alright, but only because I’m happy to see you again. If I do this though, you have to promise you’ll be by more often.”

“I swear.”

“Alright, what do you need?”

Jimin glanced over at you. “There’s a man I need to find.”

“What for?”

“Uh.” Jimin looked over at you again. “He owes me money. It’s not a lot though, but ya know, I’d still like to get it.”

Seokjin eyed him suspiciously. “How much?” he asked.

“Uh, about two fifty.”

He laughed. “Alright then. What’s his name?”

Jimin looked back over at you. “Robert (L/N)” You told him.

“Robert (L/N)” He said to the older man.

Seokjin took out a pad of paper from his pocket, and a pen from behind his ear. “Okay,” He said as he wrote the name down. “I’ll look into it for you, Chim.” Jimin rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Do you know his last place of address?”

“483 Walloway Street. It’s about 45 minutes from here.” You said. Jimin repeated the information and Seokjin wrote it down.

“I’ll call you if something comes up.” Seokjin said. “I got to get back to work though, but promise I’ll see you again soon?”

“Yes hyung, I promise.” Jimin said. The two boys hugged goodbye and Seokjin went back to the room he first emerged from. You and Jimin both headed back the way you came, back to his apartment.

The walk back to Jimin’s was quieter than the walk before. You figured it was a good time for you to finally ask some questions, since he already had his turn.

“Why did you lie?” You asked. Jimin’s head shot in your direction.

“What?”

“Everytime one of the boys asks you why you don’t visit them as often anymore, you say it’s because you’re busy. You told me earlier that you basically do nothing, so which is it? Are you busy or do you do nothing all the time?” You say. Jimin takes a second to respond.

“I’m never really doing anything, to be honest. Although, I’m constantly exhausted, so it feels like I’m always busy. I don’t know if that makes any sense.” He says.

“No, I get it” You say. “I feel like that sometimes too. I’m dead so I technically don't get tired, but the constant dread and worrying about watching over everybody makes me feel so drained.”

He pauses for a moment and stares out into the distance. “I don’t have anybody to watch over though, I just feel like I’m floating through time and space. That alone feels like the most exhausting thing in the world.”

You hum in agreement. “Nobody could see me until now, ya know. You’ve got your friends to check up on you. I'm constantly alone.”

He looks over at you and finds that you’re already staring at him. You get startled by the sudden eye contact and quickly advert your eyes to the sidewalk in front of you. “I like you, Spirit.” He says suddenly.

“Spirit?” You question.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah..” He chuckles at your sudden shyness.

“It’s true. I like you, Spirit.” He repeats.

“Why?” You jokingly ask.

 He inhales sharply “You feel like a breath of fresh air. Like I could finally start breathing again. Most of the time I just feel alone” You were starting to feel bad for him, not that you didn’t already. After following him around for two days, you could tell he has a lot of friends, so why did he feel so lonely?

“You don’t like your friends?” You ask.

“I do.” He says, “but they aren’t the same as they used to be. I’m not the same as I used to be, but that’s just life.”

“Mhm…” You hum, “like they’ve all moved on without you, and all you can do is watch them grow older.” Jimin nods. You’ve felt that same pain too. You’d be lying if you said watching your family and friends go on without you didn’t hurt a little bit. You wanted them to be happy, of course, but it stung to know that things won’t ever be the same for you. There’s no moving on for you, no growing old, no new chapter. You’re stuck being 20 forever.

“I feel like I’m dead sometimes, like I’m just the shell of a man who once was alive.” Jimin says.

“I know the feeling.” You chuckle a bit, since that’s literally exactly what you are. “So that’s why you don’t see them as much anymore?” You question.

He nods “It's exhausting trying to pretend like I’m still the same person I once was, when I’m not. And It’s even more exhausting pretending like I'm okay with the fact that they’re not the same people they once were.” Jimin’s voice has gotten a lot softer. He’s looking down at his boots and he kicks little pebbles beneath his feet. You realize now that you had a lot more in common with Jimin than you thought you did.

“Who was that boy?” You ask. Jimin looks at you, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “On your desk, there’s a picture of you and a little boy.”

“Ah.” His head tilts up in clarity. “That’s Jungkook.”

“That’s Jungkook?” You say shocked. “It looked nothing like him.”

He chuckles. “Yeah I know. That’s what I mean.” Jimin looks back at you to look you in the eyes. “We’ve all changed. Probably Kook the most out of all of us. That kid started taking drugs for fun, then he suddenly didn’t know how to stop.” He sighs. “I can’t blame him though, it’s not like I haven’t met the same fate. The only thing is, he’s doing shit he knows nothing about. Dealing with drugs he doesn’t even know how to use properly. I swear that kids gonna get himself killed.”

“Why don’t you help him then? Like take him to a rehab facility?”

Jimin’s face falls and he sighs once more. “Who do you think gave him the drugs in the first place? If Jungkook goes to rehab then we all get caught for dealing, Jungkook included.”

“Oh.” Your head hung as well. It really was a messy situation. You didn’t know what to say anymore. “I’m sorry.” Jimin just nods, and you know he’s sorry too. 

His face then lightens up and he stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“What?” You ask. Jimin doesn’t respond. He then takes a sharp right turn into one of the shops lining the sidewalk.

“Follow me.” He says enthusiastically. Naturally, you follow him.

He leads you into a tiny shop filled with crystals, orbs, old books, and other things that you’re not even sure what they’re for.

“Where are we?” You ask. He goes to answer you, but is shortly interrupted. 

“Welcome visitors!” Shouts a voice from behind where you were standing. You and Jimin both jump and turn around. An older woman emerges from a curtain draped under a doorway. She dressed in a long skirt and flowy boho shirt. Her necklaces all look handmade and each one has some sort of syble or crystal attached to it. “How may I be of service?” She looks at Jimin and then at you. Once your eyes met hers, her face suddenly lit up.

“Um.” Jimin started. “I’m looking for somethin-” 

“Something to help you communicate with your friend here?” She cuts him off and points at you. She starts making her way closer to where the two of you were standing.

“You can see me?” You asked, surprised.

“Of course my dear! You really thought you’d walk into a medium’s shop undetected?” She says. “Now let me see.” She switched her eyes between you and Jimin rapidly while her hand rubs her chin. You and Jimin both look at each other awkwardly, exchanging looks of uncertainty. “You” she points to Jimin “can only see her under the influence of the devil’s lettuce. Am I wrong?” Jimin shakes his head. You chuckle a bit at the term ‘devil’s lettuce’. “And you” she switches her finger so it’s now pointing in your direction “need his help with something, and you can’t do it without your little boyfriend’s help.” You nod, shocked. 

“He- he’s not my boyfriend.” You stutter, flustered. The lady ignores your statement, though. You and Jimin exchange looks again.

 “I might just have the thing.” She clasps her hands together and walks over to a shelf in the back corner of the shop. Your eyes follow her as she reaches and opens a little box. She stares into it for a moment, contemplating something, though it’s unclear what. She then closes the box again and walks back over to the both of you. “This might be able to help you.” She hands the box to Jimin. He takes it from her apprehensively, then slowly opens it to see what she’s given him. It was a necklace with a circle charm hanging off the end of it. In the center of the charm was a clear stone.

“What’s it for?” Jimin asked.

“It’ll help you communicate during the times when you can’t see her.” Said the woman. “It’ll be easy for you to use it too.” She said looking at you. “Just stick your finger to the stone and it’ll point light in any direction you want it to.” You look at her questioningly. “Well go on, try it.” You put your finger to the stone, and sure enough a light beamed onto the ceiling. When you moved your finger to the left, the light moved left as well. “When he’s wearing this, you’ll be able to give him directions using light.”

“I see.” You said still looking up at the light casting on the ceiling.

“How much?” Jimin asked.

“Twenty-five dollers.” Said the woman. Jimin followed the woman to the counter and set the box down. He pulled out his wallet and gave the woman three tens. After receiving his change, he put his wallet back in his pocket, took the box from the counter and headed for the door. Both of you thanked the woman before leaving.

Outside the store Jimin stopped and took the necklace out of the box. Putting it around his neck, he positioned the stone so it was facing forwards. 

You stared at for a moment. The stone was pretty, it was clear, like glass, and had little sparkles littering through the surface. It was small and round, and the charm surrounding it was a nice gold-copper color. You thought it was beautiful, and found yourself staring at it. Jimin found himself staring at you. You touched the stone again and the light was now casting onto the pavement.

You giggled. “That’s fun.” Jimin giggled as well.

“Come on, Spirit.” He said, as you both made your way back to his apartment.

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

By the time you both made it back, Jimin claimed he was sobering up and couldn’t see you as well anymore. It was getting late so you told him you should be leaving anyways. He asked if you’d show up again tomorrow, and of course you said yes. Lately, you’ve been finding it hard to stay away from him.

Visiting you mom went as it usually did. She talked about her job and her boyfriend, then ended the one sided conversation expressing how much she misses you. She did end up telling you that she stored the letter and the rest of the box under her bed in hopes of being able to deliver it to your father someday. You just hoped you could help make that a reality.

As mentioned before, ghosts don’t sleep. After your mom went to bed, you found yourself extremely bored sitting in your old bedroom. Since your mom decided to keep the house you grew up in, your old childhood room remained almost completely intact, minus a few things that were given away to charity. You were laying on your twin bed, staring up at the ceiling. When you were alive, you used to do this all the time when you needed a moment to think. In this moment, you felt like you were a teenager again. Of course, it didn’t feel exactly the same, you were still dead and there was still this void inside of you that you couldn’t ever seem to fill, but for a moment life stopped and allowed you a taste of something other than death. Death is depressing for everybody, especially for those souls who just can’t seem to move on. 

It was 3 am and you grew tired of lying around and doing nothing, even if you did enjoy living in the past every once in a while. You made the decision that you’d visit Jimin’s apartment again, even if it was just to watch him sleep. God, you really have become a stalker. You couldn’t quite understand it yet, but being with Jimin provided you a sense of security. He filled that void, even if it was only for a moment.

You made your way to his part of the city, and found that the lights surrounding his apartment were actually quite pretty at night. They didn’t illuminate the corners, just the front surfaces of everything. It was peaceful how the city was so alive even when it was asleep. Sounds of cars and voices ran through the streets and alleyways like blood through a living person’s veins. You could see why somebody might hold this place near to their hearts.

You finally reached his building and made your way inside. It was a bit difficult for you to get through the door. You had to conjure up enough energy twice to help you slip through. Once through the main entrance and another through Jimin’s apartment door. To your luck, Jimin’s bedroom door was open a crack, so that allowed you to slip in easily.

You sat at his desk chair and watched his chest rise and fall. He was still in the same clothes from earlier, minus his sweatshirt, now the tee shirt he wore under it was exposed. His hair was a mess, probably from tossing in his sleep. He looked like a teenager, in all honesty. His room a mess, his disregard for changing and washing his clothes, you’d probably never guess this was an adult man fending for himself out in the world. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a bit charming though. That was probably another reason you enjoyed Jimin’s presence, he made you feel the taste of nostalgia you didn’t get to have anymore.

You watched him for about half an hour before his phone rang and rudely lit up the entire bedroom. Unwillingly, Jimin woke up and answered his phone with a groggy voice.

“Hello?” He croaked into it. He rubbed his eyes as he listened. Then all of a sudden, he stilled. His hand fell to his side and his face dropped. You wondered if it was really that necessary to call somebody at 4 in the morning. Apparently it was, Jimin sat straight up after the person on the other end of the line finished talking. “I’ll be right there.” Jimin said before hanging up. He quickly grabbed his sweatshirt and phone before he practically ran out the door. Of course, you decided to follow him.

You followed Jimin for about two blocks before a hospital came into view. You knew by the way Jimin was rushing that nothing about this situation could be good. When he reached the entrance, he threw the doors open and ran inside looking around frantically. You looked around too, trying to see what exactly Jimin was looking for.

“Jimin!” Shouted a voice from both of your lefts. It was a man you haven’t seen before, but based off of all of Jimin’s friends you have and haven’t seen so far, you assumed it was Yoongi, the guy Seokjin was talking about before. Jimin ran over to where Yoongi was sitting in the hospital waiting area.

“What happened?” He asked.

“I fucked up.” Yoongi said with his head in his hands.

“What happened?” Jimin repeated, enfucising the urgency of the situation.

 “I got some dope from a buddy of mine,” Yoongi choked out. “Jungkook said he wanted some ‘cause he hadn’t had any in a while. I swear on my life he didn’t have much, but next thing I knew he was laying on the couch in the shop and wasn’t waking up.” There were visible tears in his eyes and his voice came out choppy and sharp. His adams apple bobbed up and down every time he took a breath,

“A buddy?” Jimin scolded. “What kind of buddy gives you laced pills?”

“I don’t know!” Yoongi pleaded “I told you he was a friend, why would I let Jungkook touch it if I thought it was dangerous?” Jimin ran his hands through his hair, he was starting to get tears in his eyes as well. It was clear both boys were extremely distressed.

“We’re all going to jail.” Jimin said. “You realize that? Once the cops start investigating and digging everything up-”

“I know.” Yoongi cut him off.

“And I swear to god, hyung, if he dies-”

 “I know!” He was borderline screaming now. Everyone in the ER turned their heads to look at the source of the commotion. The boys took this as a sign to lower their voices. “I told you, I fucked up.” Jimin just sighed in response.

“Where is he now?” He asked.

“I have no idea, they put him on a stretcher and won’t tell me where they took him.”

Jimin sat down in the seat next to Yoongi, defeated. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do, it's not like you could do anything even if you were alive.

You started walking around, seeing if there was any sign of where Jungkook might have been taken. Just then, a nurse walked into the room and headed to the front desk.

“Do you know where patient Jeon has been taken to?” She asked the front desk. The woman behind the counter started typing on the computer.

Your face picked up. If you followed this nurse then you’d probably find Jungkook. You looked back at Jimin who was still on the verge of tears next to Yoongi. You walked back over to him, and much to your fortune, the necklace Jimin bought the day before was still hanging around his neck.

You put your finger to the stone once again, and light casted on the floor just as it did before. Since Jimin’s eyes were already hung to the floor, he noticed the light pretty quickly.

“Y/N?” He whispered. You moved your finger to the right to point towards the nurse at the information desk. The light resided on the back of her scrubs. Jimin’s eyes narrowed, trying to comprehend what you were trying to tell him. The nurse then nodded a thank you to the lady behind the desk and started to walk. You did your best to keep the light shining on her as much as possible. Jimin must have gotten the hint, ‘cause he abruptly got out of his seat and started to follow her.

“Where’re you going?” Yoongi asked.

“Bathroom.” He said without even bothering to look back.

Jimin followed the nurse down a long hallway. You tried your best to keep the light shining on her back, but it was hard when Jimin was walking so fast. Eventually, the nurse led you two to a room with double doors. She slid in a card key which allowed her to open and enter. Before Jimin could reach the doors, they closed. All he could do was look through the window. You decided to look through as well.

Inside the doors was a disturbing sight of Jungkook getting his stomach pumped. You kinda wish you didn’t lead Jimin down this way, it probably would’ve been better if he didn’t see this.

Jungkook lay unresponsive on a hospital bed, with tons of wires hooked up to him. A giant tube was shoved down his throat. You quickly looked away, not wanting to see anymore. Jimin, however, just kept staring. The more he stared the more tears started to fall from his eyes. 

“Jimin, stop.” You begged. You knew it was pointless since he couldn’t hear you. It was more of a silent plea to yourself, hoping he’d stop torturing himself like that. Your prayers were bittersweetly answered when he backed away from the door. He put his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. His face was stained with tears and you couldn’t help but think this was your fault a bit. You really shouldn’t have led him here. Jimin’s breathing started picking up, and his crying became more hysterical. You crouched down to touch the stone again, signaling him you were still there. You couldn’t do much to comfort him, but you hope that that was enough.

“What am I supposed to do now, Spirit?” He whispered to you through choked sobs. Even if he could see you right now, you wouldn’t know how to respond.

“Jimin.” Said a soft voice from the other side of the hall. Both you and Jimin whipped your heads over to see who it was. Seokjin stood in a jacket and sweatpants, clearly being in the midst of his sleep when he too got a call. Jimin wiped his tears with his sleeve. The amount of tears falling from his eyes reduced after noticing Seokjin’s presence. “He’s gonna be alright you know.”

“You don’t know that.” Jimin spat back. Seokjin just sighed. “How’d you even find me anyways?”

“Yoongi’s told me you ran off in this direction.” He said as he made his way closer to where Jimin was sitting on the floor. “I just walked straight down the hall and, well, here you were.” When he finally reached him, he crouched down and sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Jimin wiped his nose with his sleeve as he sniffled once again.

“You don’t want to look in there.” Jimin said pointing to the door windows.

Seokjin nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.” It was clear neither of the boys knew what to say. Their friend was on the verge of dying and all they could do was sit around and wait. Seokjin suddenly started rummaging around in his coat pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper that was folded in fours. “I know this probably won’t make you feel better.” He said. “But here’s the address you asked for earlier.” Seokjin passed the paper to Jimin, and Jimin unfolded it to look at the writing. Sure enough, there was an address written on the inside. You crouched down beside Jimin to look as well. It looked like your father now lived two cities away.

Jimin stared at the paper for a bit, regulating his breathing. Sometimes you wished you knew what he was thinking. It always looked like he had thoughts running a mile a minute.

“Thanks, hyung.” He said as he folded the paper back up and put it in his pocket.

“Um, excuse me.” Said a nurse from above where the boys were sitting. It was a nurse you directed Jimin to follow earlier. Both boys looked up at her. “Could you gentlemen please wait in the waiting room?” She said in a kind and calming voice.

“Yes of course.” Said Seokjin as he got up. “Our apologies, m’am.” Jimin stood as well. The nurse nodded a ‘thank you’ and disappeared down the hall. Both Jimin and Seokjin made their way back to the waiting room to where the rest of the boys were now apparently waiting, so claimed Seokjin.

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

Jungkook died about three hours later.

At first, it looked like he was gonna make it. The doctors say his heart gave out unexpectedly.

All the boys were still seated in the waiting room when they heard the news. Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok felt the need to get as far away from the hospital as possible. Nobody knows where they decided to go. They all got into Yoongi’s car and drove off. Seokjin forced himself to deal with all the dreaded paperwork, since Jungkook didn’t have any legal or blood relatives that would do it. His eyes were glassy the entire time, but he forced himself to not cry, not yet. Taehyung helped too, he even called a funeral home and started making arrangements. 

Jimin, however, didn’t do anything. He was still seated in the waiting room chairs, head in his hands and tears falling on the floor. Every few minutes or so, you’d touch the stone again to hopefully comfort him. You weren’t sure if it was working or not, but it was all you could do.

You decided then that you would stay by Jimin’s side for the rest of the day. You couldn’t leave him, not now. Sitting in the chair beside him, you took in your surroundings. You were looking around to see if maybe you’d spot Jungkook’s spirit, silently praying he hadn’t gotten lost yet. You remember dying, and you remember your first few moments being dead. The very first thing you did was look for your family. It surprised you that you haven’t spotted Jungkook trying to communicate with any of the boys yet.

“Jimin.” Said a voice to Jimin’s left. He looked up and found Taehyung standing over him, tears in his eyes as well. Taehyung’s face showed more emotion, though. Jimin showed evidence of sadness through his tear stained cheeks, the rest of his face just looked utterly numb and defeated. “Why don’t you go home and rest. It’s probably not good for you to stick around her any longer.” Jimin didn’t respond. He just nodded and stood up.

You and Jimin both made your way back to his apartment.

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

Jimin must have remembered you were with him. When he opened the doors to get to his apartment, he held them open a bit longer to let you get through. It made you feel better. It showed you he wanted you there. Every time you passed through, you would touch the stone again, as a way of saying ‘thank you’.

You expected the first thing he would do when he got home was cry. When he finally closed his front door, you braced yourself. You assumed he’d finally snap.

But he didn’t.

First thing he did after closing the door was go to the cabinets and grab his stash.

He still hadn’t broken down when he took out the weed.

He still held himself together as he rolled his blunt.

He still remained calm when he lit his blunt.

Two puffs, and still nothing.

Four puffs, and still nothing.

Eight puffs, and still.. Nothing. 

He just stared at the wall. Still standing up, behind the kitchen counter. He didn’t even bother to sit down.

Ten puffs, and still nothing.

It was excruciatingly painful, just standing there watching him. Waiting for the shoe to drop. 

Sixteen puffs. Nothing.

No reaction. Just inhaling, and exhaling. 

You didn’t sit down either. You felt too on edge to allow yourself any kind of relaxation. 

After about fifteen minutes, Jimin started to feel the effects. His eyes turned red, and his muscles relaxed a bit. 

Though, he was only relaxed for a moment, until he saw you standing on the other side of the counter.

Twenty puffs, and he still hasn’t reacted.

And he didn’t react. 

Not when he looked up at you. 

Not when he walked over to you. 

And not when he was standing right in front of you, face to face. 

You could feel his breath touch your nose, but he couldn’t feel yours. The more he 

looked at you, the more his eyes started to water, and his lip started to quiver. But still, he hasn’t fully reacted yet.

He only let himself go when you asked the dreaded question “Are you okay?” 

It was a stupid question, really. Obviously, he wasn’t, but what else are you supposed to say?

Jimin broke eye contact with you after you asked it. He shook his head, and finally let his guard down. He choked on his sobs. His shoulders bounced up and down everytime he exhaled, and he was exhaling pretty rapidly.

He was now reacting the way you expected him to.The shoe finally dropped, as did he. Jimin fell to the floor and rested his back to the counter. He wasn’t just crying, he was sobbing, wailing. It was the kind of cry that was in no way pretty, the kind of cry that society deemed acceptable for only children. You fell to the floor with him, and you as well started crying. You not only cried for Jimin, but for Jungkook. He was too young to die, and you knew that feeling all too well. This whole situation was like one big Deja Vu that didn’t end.

“Hey,” you soothed. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” Jimin just shook his head.

“No, it’s not.” He croaked out. He was right though, and you knew that. None of this was okay. You wanted to touch him. To hug him, stroke him, hold him. You knew it would be useless, but you couldn’t help yourself. You reached out your hand to touch his face. Your skin made contact with his and you stroked his cheek. You could only faintly feel him. There was still a barrier between you two, between the living and the dead. 

Jimin, however, felt you clear as day. It was only for a moment, only for a split second. The moment your hand touched his face he felt your warmth. It quickly scattered away, lost in connection, but he felt it. He didn’t tell you though, he knew he probably should’ve but he didn’t. He wanted to keep that to himself.

Even though he only felt you for half of a moment, he realized he loved the way you felt, and he’d do anything to feel you again.

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

You stayed with him for the rest of the day, as you promised yourself before.

You comforted him when he cried, and listened to him when he talked. He told you about his favorite moments with Jungkook. Most of the memories were from when Jungkook was in middle school and Jimin was in his early years of High School.

You assured him that none of this was his fault. Yes, there were times when Jimin gave him drugs, but if Jungkook hadn’t gotten the drugs from Jimin he would have just gotten them somewhere else.

You also told Jimin that if you ever saw Jungkook walking around, you’d let him know. You remember the feeling of being a new spirit, being so lost and confused. Of course you would help Jungkook out in any way possible. It was very unlikely Jungkook had moved on already. He was young and most definitely had unfinished business to take care of.

You constantly had to remind Jimin to eat. He was reluctant, but he listened.

You had to remind him to shower. Again, he was reluctant, but he listened.

You knew it would be a while before Jimin was himself again, and you were willing to help him in any way possible. 

At about one o’clock, five hours after Jungkook’s death, he made an unexpected suggestion.

“We could go visit your dad.” He said, till teary eyed. “I have his address now, we could give him that letter.”

“Jimin, your friend just died. I don’t think-” “Please,” He interrupted. “It will help me take my mind off things. Besides, you’ve been with me the whole day. Let me do this for you.” He forced a smile and sniffled. For a moment, you almost believed the smile was a real one, and that scared you a bit. You felt guilty. He was in a lot of pain, and yet he still wanted to do this for you. It should have been you doing something for him, but you were dead, you couldn’t really do anything.

You told him once more that you didn’t think it was a good idea, but he kept on pushing it. After about a ten minute debate you gave in. If he really wanted to go, you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him.

“It’s at my mom’s house.” You told him. “There’s a box under her bed with everything she wants to give him, including the letter.”

“Alright.” Jimin said. During the time you spent together that day, you both migrated to his bedroom so Jimin could cry in the comfort of his own bed. He got up from his bed and made his way back to the kitchen. You trailed behind him.

“You know, you could just give the address to my mom. She’d be okay with taking it to him.” You said.

“No, I want to do it.” He insisted.

“Jimin, you really don’t-”

“Please, just let me do this for you!” He shouted, starting to get annoyed. There was desperation laced in his voice. You couldn’t really understand why this was so important to him, but you figured this wasn’t the time to argue, so you nodded an ‘alright’.

Before leaving, Jimin rummaged through one of the draws in the kitchen, looking for something. He pulled out a plastic bag with, what looked like gummies, inside.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

“Edibles.” He said. “So I’ll be able to see you the whole time we’re out.” He put the baggie in his pocket and headed towards the door. You both then made your way to your mother’s house.

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

When arriving at the house, you realized your mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

“Shoot.” You groaned. “She’s not home.” You turned to Jimin, expecting the both of you to just turn around and go back to his place.

“Is there any way to get in the house?” He asked.

“What, you mean like, breaking and entering?” You asked in disbelief. “Jimin, you could be arrested.”

“Well, does your mom have a security system?” He asked.

“Well, no but-”

“Then I’ll be fine.” This was the third time he interrupted you today. He was being oddly pushy, but you allowed it after the tragedy of today’s events. “How do I get in?”

“I’m not letting you break into my mom’s house.” You scorned, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine then, I’ll figure it out myself.”

“In broad daylight?” You questioned, shockingly. “Somebody’s gonna see you.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine!” He was clearly short with you, aggravated by your constant worry about him. He knew it was unreasonable, since you were just looking out for him, but still, he had a plan and he wanted to go through with it.

He walked around the entire perimeter of the house. Your mom lived in a small little neighborhood just on the outskirts of the city. Most of the people that lived around here had day jobs. He really wasn’t that worried about being caught, the neighborhood looked so dead. Besides, even if someone did see him, he’d be long gone before he gets caught. 

The whole time he searched for a way in, you just kept your arms crossed and pouted behind him. You didn’t like the fact that he was putting himself through all this for you. It really wasn’t that important, but you didn’t want to tell him no. He’s already been through enough today, the last thing he needs is you pissing him off, which it seems like you already did.

Jimin found that the basement door in the backyard had been left unlocked. You remembered your mother never remembered to lock it, even when you were alive. She likes to garden, and it’s just easier for her to keep the door unlocked so she doesn’t have to unlock it every day when she wants to tent to her vegetables. Plus, she always loses the key anyways. You made a mental note to scorn her if you ever got the chance to. Jimin swung open the metal doors and climbed down the steps.

“You coming?” He asked when he noticed you weren’t following behind, just standing at the opening of the cellar with your arms crossed. You just rolled your eyes and reluctantly trailed after him.

When you were both in the basement, Jimin closed the door to the outside and found the string that turns on the light. It had been a while since you’d been in your old house’s basement. You walked over to a box labeled ‘toys’, which consisted of your favorite childhood memories. All your old barbie dolls, old costumes, a play kitchen set, it was all there. God, if only you could rewind time and be a kid again.

“Cute.” Jimin chuckled from the other side of the room. You turned around to look at him.

“What is?” You asked. He held up the picture he was looking at. It was a picture of you and your parents on your third birthday. All three of you were smiling over an Elmo cake, while you wore an Elmo shirt and party hat. It made you smile, you remember seeing that picture multiple times when you were alive.

“You were cute.” Jimin said with a small smile on his face.

“Were?” You joked, acting as if you were offended. He laughed at your statement. After all the crazy events that happened that day, it was so so nice to see him smile, even if it was only for a moment.

“Come on, Spirit.” He said as he put the picture back in its original place. “This box isn’t gonna deliver itself.”

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

It didn’t take long to find the box and the letter, and before you knew it, you and Jimin had made your way out of the house before anyone saw the crime you both committed. You told Jimin to write your mom a note, saying that the box had been delivered to your dad. You also told him to write his new address as well, in case she wanted to ever get in contact with him. Your parents didn’t hate each other, and you were fairly certain that if your mom ever wanted to reconnect with your dad, he’d be receptive.

You and Jimin took the subway to the city your dad lived in. It was about a twenty minute ride, and every few minutes or so, Jimin would eat some edibles to keep his high. Eventually though, he couldn’t stop eating them since they were the only food he had with him. You had to yell at him to stop, but of course he didn’t take you seriously, he just told you that you were cute when you were angry. You ignored his sad attempt at flirting, but then again, was he flirting with you? It’s not that you wouldn’t want him to flirt with you, it’d just be pointless. You were dead and he wasn’t, there was no room for a relationship between you two.

You were brutally aware of your feelings for him though. You didn’t act on them, or even acknowledge them, really, it was pointless to. He would eventually find someone, someone who was alive and still had a life to live. When that happened, you decided you’d be happy for him. You never got to have that, so it’d be nice to be able to see him have it, even if it isn’t with you.

If you were alive, though….

Oh, if only you were alive. With Jimin, you felt like you were living. Even when you had a beating heart, it never beat as fast as the way your chest pounded when he smiled at you. Even if you were alive, you never felt like you were living. You’re convinced that you were supposed to meet Jimin during your lifetime. You’re convinced that if you did mean Jimin during your lifetime, you might have just spent the rest of your life with him.

It was a bit childish to think about these things, and you knew that, but you didn’t have much else to think about these days. 

You fell in love in the afterlife, what a miserable way to spend the rest of eternity.

It felt like forever, but you finally made it to your father’s place. He lived in an apartment complex similar to Jimin’s. It was run down and a bit shady, there were mysterious stains on the wall and you weren’t sure if you’d want to know their back stories.

He lived on the tenth floor in apartment 10J, the last door on the right.

Upon stopping in front of the door, you both stopped and held your breath. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe your dad was in awful condition and seeing him would just tear you apart. Maybe he was an alcoholic asshole now and would tell Jimin to fuck off. Maybe, when Jimin knocked on that door, the man that answered wouldn’t even be your dad. Maybe you’re at the wrong apartment, or Seokjin tracked the wrong guy.

“I don’t have to knock, you know.” Said Jimin, he must have seen the anxiety swimming across your face. “I could just leave it on the doorstep.” You didn’t respond. Did you want him to knock? You weren’t really sure.

“Knock only if you feel comfortable knocking.” You told him.

“I’m comfortable with anything you want me to do.” He said. Of course he was being sweet and understanding, that didn’t really help you make your decision though. You kind of wished he just knocked without asking you, so you could rip this off, like a band aid.

“Just do it.” You spit out, handing covering your eyes as if you were watching a tense part of a horror movie. He did as told and lifted his fist to knock.

Jimin knocked a total of three times, and it took about ten seconds for somebody to open the door (not that you were counting). The door peeled back, and on the other side stood a pregnant woman. She looked a little older than what you’d expect a pregnant woman to look like, you guessed she was only a few years younger than your mom.

Your first thought upon seeing the woman was ‘oh my god, we’re at the wrong house. I still don’t know where my dad is and I’m probably never gonna see him again.’ You were prepared to live the rest of your after life never knowing what ever happened to your father.

“Can I help you?” The woman asked. Jimin looked disheartened as well, probably assuming the same things you were.

“Um..” He started. “Is there a Robert here?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” The woman said, confused. Both your faces picked up. Maybe your dad was here after all. “Robert! Honey!” The woman called out into her apartment.

“Coming!” Somebody yelled. You knew that voice. You haven’t heard it in so long, but it felt so good to hear it again. There were footsteps coming from the back of the apartment. They traveled towards the front, and stopped right behind the door.

Then there he was, you dad. He wasn’t an asshole alcoholic, nor did he look to be in any kind of awful condition. He looked radiant, like he was healthy and happy. Tears started to prick in your eyes. He looked the way he did during your childhood. In the last few years you were alive, your parent’s relationship was rocky. You remember him always looking disheveled and depressed.

“Yes?” Your dad asked. Jimin looked at you for confirmation, to check and make sure this really was your dad. You nodded at him, giving him the ‘go ahead’.

“Um, I have a package for you, sir.” He said, holding out the box towards your father. Your dad looked at the box and read the writing on the side that said ‘storage’.

“Who’s it from?” Your dad asked, taking the box from Jimin.

“Tell him it’s from me.” You said to Jimin through your soft cries.

“It’s- um- from your daughter, sir.” He said. Your dad stopped his movements and shot his head up to look at Jimin. He didn’t look angry or offended, just surprised.

“What?” He asked, shocked. The woman also looked stunned.

“S-she wanted you to have these things. I’m sorry they didn’t get to you earlier.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck in awkwardness. He was just hoping the man wouldn’t get angry as to how and why he suddenly had a bunch of his dead daughter’s possessions.

“Were you a friend of hers?” The man asked, starting to form tears in his eyes as well.

“Um” Jimin started. He didn’t know how to answer that. Technically no, he wasn’t a friend of yours when you were alive, even though he was now. “Something like that. She’s very important to me though.” The man just nodded, deciding not to dive deeper into that explanation. Right now, all he was focused on was the fact that he had a piece of his daughter now. After the divorce, he never took anything from the old house. It was a decision he deeply regretted. He opened the box and found a bunch of your old stuff. Pictures, clothes, toys, journals, it was all there. On top of all those things lay the note you wrote to him. Your dad was really starting to cry now, which only made you cry harder.

“Thank you.” Said the man, through his sobs. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It was my pleasure.” Jimin said.

“Would you like to come in?” Said the woman standing beside your dad. “I have some cookies I just baked, and you could have some coffee if you’d like.”

“No no, it’s really fine.” Jimin said as politely as he possibly could. “I have to be somewhere, but I’m glad I could deliver this to you.”

“What was your name, son?” asked the man.

“Jimin.” He answered.

“Well, Jimin, if you need anything, you are more than welcome to come here anytime.” Said you dad.

“Thank you, sir.” He said with a nod.

And with that, Jimin said goodbye to the couple. The door closed and you and Jimin made your way out of the apartment building.

“Did you want me to stay?” He asked you.

“No, it’s fine.” You said with a smile. “What you did was more than enough.” You were so so happy, the happiest you’ve been since you’ve died. Your dad was happy, and he knew you loved him, and you knew he hadn’t forgotten about you. He also had a baby on the way. You were gonna be a big sister! Even if you weren’t alive, you just knew you were gonna protect that baby with everything you’ve got. 

Jimin looked at your face and smiled. He hadn’t realized it till now, but he’s never seen you smile like that before. You looked lighter and more radiant. To him, you looked stunning. Everything was worth it. If he had to fly across the whole world just to get that reaction out of you then he would in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t tell you that though, not yet anyways.

“I want to take you somewhere.” He said. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course.” You said. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s not far.”

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

The place Jimin wanted to take you was about a fifteen minute train ride. By the time you reached there, he only had a few edibles left. You just hoped you wouldn’t be there long, or else Jimin would be having a one sided conversation with himself once he sobered up.

The place he took you to was an abandoned building, or what was left of the building. Not much of the walls were there anymore, just the main structures and support beams, all of which were littered with writing, graffiti, and old bottles. You could see the inside of the building from the outside. It wasn’t ridiculously tall either, maybe about four stories high. The building was placed in the middle of an empty plot, away from the rest of the city. It was secluded and quiet there, like a little hiding place.

“This” Jimin said upon arriving at the place “is where me and the rest of the boys would come to hang out after school.” Every time you took a step, the tan dirt lifted up and scattered everywhere. You could understand why a bunch of teenagers would come to hang out here. If you knew about this place in your teen years, you probably would have come here too. “Follow me.”

You followed Jimin all the way up to the top floor, which wasn’t even a floor, it was the roof.

“Uh, Jimin.” You said when you looked over the top. “Is it even safe to be up this high?” You asked.

He chuckled, “You’re already dead, you know. If you fall it’s not gonna do anything.”

“I know” you smiled. “Doesn’t mean I’m still not scared.” The view from up there was very pretty, you must admit. You could see people from miles away, cars zooming that looked as tiny as ants. The sun was starting to set too, the sky looked like it was on fire. The world around you was painted in an orange hue, it was relaxing. Jimin walked over to the edge of the roof and dangled his feet over the side, looking out to the sunset. You decided to join him. You copied his movements, and dangled your feet over the side as well.

“Me and Jungkook used to sit here a lot, most of the time to smoke.” He said. You almost forgot about today’s events with Jungkook. You felt like such an asshole now. You’ve been in a good mood since you saw your father, you almost forgot that this was probably the worst day of Jimin’s life. “Sometimes,” he huffed “he’d talk to me about skipping town. He wanted to make music, you know. He was so fucking good at it too.” Tears started welling up in his eyes again, he looked down at his hands and watched himself play with his fingers. “That kid was really supposed to be something great, I just know it.” You just sat and listened, there wasn’t really anything you could say to make him feel better. You figured the best thing was to do was to just let him speak his mind. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to protect that kid from becoming exactly the thing he became. When I realized it was hopeless, I just gave up all together.” He looked over at you and gave you a sad smile. “I didn’t just give up on him though, I gave up on myself.”

You shook your head, apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I really am, I wish I could make things better for you.” Jimin looked back out towards the sunset. You don’t know why you decided to do it, but you leaned your body against his side and leaned your head on his shoulder. You knew he couldn’t feel it, you could only faintly feel him. You wanted so much more of him, but you knew you couldn’t have it. Making yourself do these things only tortured you more, but you didn’t really care.

“But that’s the thing.” He said. “You did make it better. I was so lonely before you showed up, Y/N.” He extended his palm, signalling you to put your hand in his. You didn’t understand why, he wouldn’t feel anything, but you did it regardless.

Jimin wanted to feel you so bad, it was painful. He needed to feel you. He couldn’t stop thinking about that one millisecond of a moment he felt your hand. You were so warm, so inviting. He’s never felt anything like it in all his life. He would feel it again, he was certain. He would make sure of it.

“You’re not going to like this.” He said, suddenly. You picked your head off from off his shoulder.

“Like what?”

“What I’m going to do next.” Jimin then stood up, dangerously close to the edge of the building. You thought for a second he was going to jump, and you chuckled a bit in disbelief. He didn’t move though, he kept standing alarmingly close to the edge.

“Jimin?” You questioned. He didn’t look at you, only straight ahead. “Jimin, you’re scaring me.” He still didn’t respond. You were starting to feel the anxiety settle in now. He wouldn’t actually jump would he? You stood up too, too afraid to just sit and watch. “Jimin!” You shouted, trying to get his attention. You tried pulling him backwards, but of course that did nothing. It only barely tugged his sleeve a little. It was enough to get him to look back at you.

“Tell me why I shouldn't.” He stated, swallowing on his words a bit.

“Your friends, they love you and they just lost Jungkook. They need you right now.”

“No, they don’t. They’ve been just fine without me. Ever since I stopped going to hang out with them, they’ve just carried on with their lives. They barely even called to see if I was okay.” Tears were streaming down both your faces now. You were scared he was gonna die, and he was begging you to let him do it. “The only thing I care about right now is you. I can’t feel you and it’s driving me insane!”

“Jimin, you can’t do this! Not for me!”

“Why not! Everything you’ve done these last few days has all been for me! You could’ve went anywhere in the world, done anything you fucking wanted to, but you came back to me simply because I asked you to. You’ve cared more about me in this short time that we’ve had together, than anybody ever has in my entire life.” “That’s not true and you know that!” You shouted. “The boys love you and-”

“Yeah well I love you!” And there it was, that thing that’s been unspoken between you two. Nobody dared to admit it until now. You’d only known him a couple of days but you’ve never really known what it was like to be in love till now.

“And I love you too,” you said, finally allowing yourself to admit it “which is exactly why I’m begging you to step away from the ledge.” Jimin looked down at the ground. Yes, the building wasn’t the tallest structure out there, but a fall from this height is certainly life threatening. For a moment, he actually considered not jumping. Maybe it would be best to just push through the next couple of days.

The thing is though, Jimin had already made up his mind, even before Jungkook had died, and even before he had met you. He knew he wanted to be with you, and he knew this moment would come eventually, he just didn’t realize it’d come so soon. He’s had plans to jump from here for a while now, and you were just another pro he added to the list. Right now, you were the only factor that mattered to him, and everything in his body was screaming at him to do it. Plus, you told him you loved him. How was he supposed to back out now?

“I’m sorry.” He said.

You tried to pull him back, you really did, but he was an unstoppable force.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, but it only pulled you down with him.

You both fell, the only difference is, you’re already dead.

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

You and Jimin both stood over his body, which now lay bloody and lifeless on the ground. Turns out there was a broken bottle conveniently placed right where his head landed. There’s no way anybody could have survived that.

You need a moment to process what just happened. One minute, you were having a cute moment, watching the sunset. The next, you’re reliving the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to you. There were two Jimins in front of you now, and one was looking at the other like he was gonna throw up.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now, all you could do was cry and hyperventilate. You were hyperventilating so loud, you almost didn’t notice Jimin was hyperventilating twice as much. Once you noticed he was severely freaking out, you rushed over to him.

“Don’t look.” You told him. When you first saw your body, the more you looked at it the more surreal everything was, and the more freaked out you became. “Don’t look at it.” You reached over to where he was standing, and stood as close to him as possible. You could feel his warmth so much better now, and it was a little fucked up that you were loving it. He had just killed himself, you couldn’t think about that right now. “Just look at me.” He didn’t look at you though, he just kept staring at his own dead body. “Jimin,” you said calmly “look at me, please.” You touched your hand to his check, just like you did earlier that day. This time, you really felt him though. Not faintly, but fully.

 He felt you too, and once he did, he felt like it was all worth it. He looked at you, finally. The more he stared at you, the more his breathing slowed. There were a few times he’d try to avert his eyes back to his body, but you pulled his face back towards your direction.

“Just look at me, okay?” he nodded in response. You felt so good, so safe. He was still realizing the weight of his actions, only realizing now he didn’t really want to die. The thought of his friends receiving the news of his death ate away at the back of his mind. The guilt was weight on his chest.

He didn’t want to think about that now though, not when he could see you so clearly, clearer than he could before. Before, he thought you were stunning, now he thought you looked ethereal. Your touch was intoxicating too. He reached up his hand to where yours cupped his face, and let his hand rest over yours.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin finally said. You rubbed your thumb against his cheek, which prompted him to nuzzle his face further into your hand. His sobs started picking up again.

“It’s okay.” You soothed. “You’re okay.” You moved to hug him, something you’ve wanted to do for so long. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and he wasted no time wrapping his around your waist. He sobbed quietly into your neck while you raked your hands through his hair. You discovered then that you loved to touch him, you just wished you made this discovery under better circumstances.

You kissed his cheek. You don’t know why you did that, it just felt right. It shocked him, he wasn’t expecting you to do that. He picked his head up off your shoulder to look at you.

Your foreheads touched

And soon after your lips

Your unfinished business now was Jimin. 

Until he completed his unfinished business, you couldn’t move on. 

Not without him.

---

“Eternity wouldn’t be so bad, as long as I got to spend it with you....”

[lookforanewangle]

i thought of another one for you >:3c prompt 48, bruce & dick, you choose the context😌

ha... hahaha...this is just titled as “i’m sorry” in my google docs lmaoooo time to kick off the bad things happen bingo!! :’D i really am sorry

i’ll stick with you || dick & bruce || 1.1k

angst prompt 48: sometimes I wonder why you stay with me || ao3

WARNINGS: blood, fatal injuries, major character death...x2, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt no comfort, angst, no happy ending, (this is very much not a happy story so take care of yourselves)

happy nano! :)

The end of the world starts and goes as it always does, with threats and explosions and battles raging across continents.

But the tide doesn't turn in their favor this time, doesn't allow them a moment of respite as the universe throws everything it has at them, and even the greatest heroes have crumbled. Too many have fallen, too many of their own have fallen— countless names, with family among them (Jay, Tim, Stephanie, Damian, Cassandra, Kate, Duke, Alfred holding down the fort, their cave, their safe refuge, their home until the end)—

And all that's left are Bruce and Dick against the world. It's like it was at the beginning, just the two of them back to back, watching each other's six, and doing what they could to stay alive. Batman and Robin, the great Dynamic Duo.

But it wasn't enough.

It never came close.

There's too much left unsaid between them as they lay buried in rubble, shrapnel and rebar littered across the ground and strewn through their bodies. Bruce can't let their issues, their messiness, lie, can't let the words sit and fester like infected wounds, ruining the last vestiges of their strained relationship. He's missed his son, his boy, his first baby, all of these years, and as they both lay dying with no one coming for them, he lets the words free from his ribcage where he's held them hostage all these years.

"Sometimes I wonder why you stayed with me," Bruce wonders aloud, “Why you stay.” His voice is so quiet Dick isn't entirely sure if Bruce even spoke, or if he was imagining it through the pain induced haze clouding his thoughts.

But he's been around long enough to know differently, has trained his hearing well enough to know otherwise.

"After everything I've put you through...Dick, I— Every time. Every time you came back. I wouldn't have ever blamed you if you stayed away. You'd grown up and gotten out, and yet...you're still here. You're here."

Dick shifts, wincing as pain ignites his nerves on fire. "Of course ‘m here," he rasps, heel scraping weakly across the ground as he shifts to try and relieve any bit of agony. "And if...if you think f'r a single secon'... that I didn't know exactly what I was doin', tha’ I didn't want to be out there— out there with you...doin' the things we do, then you don' know me at all, B."

Bruce huffs in amusement, a sound that borders on a sob. Dick peeks at him through a squinted gaze, the light above them like dull ice picks to the brain, but he keeps them open, taking in the sights. There are tears at the corners of Bruce's eyes; there are burns up the sides of Bruce's face and Dick knows he's bleeding out somewhere he can't see while help is— while help isn't speeding towards them, because there's no one left to come, but he doesn't think that's why Bruce is so close to breaking.

Dick's chest hurts, and from more than the rebar poking through his ribs.

"B…" he wheezes, fingers twitching against gravel. Strong, trembling fingers respond, squeezing in whatever small bit of comfort his adopted father can provide as they careen towards the end of them both. Help is impossible at this point, doesn't exist anymore and they both know it. Tears sting Dick's eyes too, in fear and sadness and anger and love and pain and everything in between. "B—"

"I'm here," Bruce whispers back. "I'm here, chum. And I-- I'm sorry I wasn't there for you before."

"You were, you were there in some of the most important moments," Dick whispers, "'specially at the beginning. You were always there. I'm sorry I pushed you away so much."

"I am too," he answers, squeezing Dick's fingers again. A tear slips down Dick's cheek. They're silent for a moment as the end of the world rages on in the distance, beyond what they can hear. A curtain flutters in the wind somewhere above them through a shattered window. Dick swallows past a lump in his throat and continues.

"I stayed," he breathes, so quiet he's not sure Bruce will hear. But Bruce will hear every word, just as he trained Dick to. With that certainty: "I stayed because you understood me, because you did try, in your own ways. Because I believe in your mission, but knew you'd dig yourself into your own grave on your own.

"We had our moments, and… we’ve both fucked up in— in a lot of ways," he says. It's getting harder to pull in air and he pants, his chest tight. The tears make it harder; he pushes through anyway, as they always have. "But B…" he sucks in what air he can, breath hitching on the words. "You're the best dad I could have asked for," he sobs weakly, "and I love you, for better or worse.

"You gave me a home, a purpose. You helped me so much, Dad, and I like to think I helped you too."

"You did," Bruce reassures him immediately. He rolls onto his side with a heave, teeth creaking as he grits them against his own pain. Dick's fingers are still clutched tightly in his own and pulled close to his chest, his other hand burying his fingers in Dick's tangled hair and combing through the blood-soaked strands. He leans as best as he can over his son, and presses a kiss to Dick's temple, squeezing his eyes shut as tears stream down his cheeks. "You did help, sweetheart, and I wouldn't have made it this far without you. Thank you, son."

Dick's face crumples, and Bruce shushes him quietly, gently pressing his forehead to Dick's. Blood is still pooling rapidly beneath them both, and Bruce knows they're both almost out of time. He wants to tug Dick into his arms and hold him close, comfort him in Dick's preferred tactile way, but moving him is out of the question. So he clutches his fingers, presses their foreheads together, and hums, sings the songs he used to sing when Dick was a boy to comfort him after nightmares, sings the songs his mother used to sing to Bruce as a child when the dark got to be too much, even then.

Sometime later, Dick chokes on his air, squeezes Bruce's fingers in a deathtrap and heaves out with all the strength he has left: "I—I love you, B," and Bruce breaks.

"I love you, too."

Neither of them survive the night.