#nearly passed tf out when I was making the first drawing as it was made on mspaint

[atomicfoolorkillthemidols]

no more of this archery shit, no more of this horse bullshit, no more of any of this

[braemjeorn]

a long ourank oc presentation because braem is just a writer at heart and soul.

this is honi.

honi is from my fanfic here. would be glad if you read it. would be so happy if you like it. haven't updated it in a while so below are some spoilers for us all(?)

i know. i can't draw the same face. though #Shook is my favourite.

she has longer hair in earlier designs. but then i gave her short hair and thought, oh she looks cooler. like she could be a really cool mom. that's all you need honestly. like why make your ship lovers when you can get kingdom management done with the spiCE that is legal union!

'scuse me. kept the long hair for her younger-tween looks, anyway - wasn't mentioned why in the fic but let's just say that making it to the underworld was life changing. one way or another. she got a scar on her left cheekbone after her twenties (so yeas, i forgot the middle one im sorry).

here's our man because why not. we crave loose hair desha in this house.

im so bad at drawing crowns.

i was keen on the idea of someone to balance desha's personality out, instead of the complete opposites-attract. coz this here is a brash and unapologetic man who mercilessly cackles and taunts bojji and domas at the first meeting. half the fun will be when someone doesn't really flinch at that. tempers him down a bit or countering and riling him up to make firecrackers is what I want to see.

pink ram-lion babies coz why not

honi was nearly engaged before - somewhat more experienced in the field? but things happened and romantic pursuits were shelved before they met. honi acknowledged that he was a man early on in their meeting, but after making up and a few more formal encounters assured her that he was worth being friends with. worth the days-long flight just for a few weeks of teasing, good mead and mushroom pies.

after the winter breakfast but she's still confused.

figuring out she has feelings was a breakdown on a catastrophic level.

but eh, iss all good.

cuties.

not officially engaged but at least the lightning discharge was minimum.

that's all, i guess. some wish-wash, fluffy, alternate-or-future universe musings.

(but then in the manga the ominous naration was like, desha never returned and the underworld fell into ruin *cue queen elinor toppling chess pieces* (overthinking desha's pre-canon shonen arc and how his power is what made him rank 2nd as well as keep order in the multirace, monstrous underworld). in case reclaiming the throne won't work the option is mountain-nymph!honi or passing-farmer-girl!honi. pick.)

(but also the idea that if the canon queen is the persephone counterpart and was on the overworld for her six months deal when the whole season 1 happened is also great. which makes it hilarious if they met during part 2 coz she'd be like 'what tf happened to you?' and heartbreaking if he doesn't remember her. would be fantastic if she's any sort of queen like hiling and stubbornly gets shit done - might have a crisis that she cant find despa or ouken around, or launch some curses to the judge. but I don't know abt canon-queen. only the writer knows what might happen. as long as it isn't some poor excuse of a girl-failure of a villainess miranjo is, I'll be satisfied.)

sometimes i worry if my art will be considered ai work due to my poor anatomy but i swear it's really just a poor concept of anatomy😭 i have so MUCH to improve on digital painting. lighting, shadowing, composition, their size difference—they say the captain is 265 and desha's around the same height in the artbook. honi's like 180 and she's still so tiny! next to him despite being taller than average.

bonus, somewhat suggestive comic below.

double bonus: i think they both agree that domas is a joke and keeping 2000 km distance with miranjo is a must

[scullyy]

Birthday Boy

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: It's AJs' birthday! The kids have gathered around for another rockin' hootenanny!

A/N: brUH I’ve been working on this for agesssss and it’s finally dooooneeeeee ~~and it’s still not my best but I TRIED and perfection doesn’t eXIST-~~ it’s a VERY belated birthday gift for @bluebutterfly1 cause she’s been wanting this foREVER. SHE'S AMAZING OKAY-

so yeah this is based off a deleted scene from TFS where it was AJ’s birthday and what not anyways ily and enjoy x

-

It was hard being a kid sometimes, not having the words to describe how you're feeling, not even knowing what it is you are feeling was also a bummer. AJ had hoped he would know when he got older, especially by Clem's age. He would know so many more words and feelings and extra stuff about the world. He had already learned so much just from Aasims' teachings.

But Aasim hadn't taught him why everyone was giving him strange looks this one particular winter morning.

Clem was the first, she wasn't as good of a liar as she thought she was. There was this...odd smile on her face. AJ recognised it as the same smile Louis makes whenever he tries to get out of trouble. Ruby, Violet and Aasim had immediately zoomed off into the school once breakfast was done, only running out to share little whispers with Clementine. Omar was cooking something in his special big pot, more focused than AJ had ever seen, but he refused to tell the kid what it was.

He hadn't even seen Louis! Not even during breakfast! The only other person outside was Willy, still stationed at the watchtower. AJ's curious mind and talkative nature tried to squeeze as much info out of the young boy, but he was able to keep his mouth shut for once.

It all led him to sit beside Clementine in an unusual silence for the two, one that didn't sneak past her. Nothing AJ did - or in this case, didn't - could slip by her radar. "Why the long face kiddo?" Clem bumped her elbow into his shoulder, attempting to steal his attention.

AJ picked at a speck of dry skin on his hand, sporting a very obvious pout. "Did I do something wrong?"

That caught her off guard. Her leg trembled from both the cold and her deeply-bundled nerves. Keeping a secret, especially one she knew AJ was going to love, was tougher than she thought. "What makes you think that?" Her eyes moved rapidly from AJ and the school doors, keeping her crossed fingers hidden beneath her thigh. The other kids better be done soon...

"No one is talking to me. Like when I shot Marlon and everyone got mad at me. I didn't like that and I don't like this." He kicked at the air, his little legs still too short to touch the ground.

"I'm sure everything is fine-"

As her hand reached out to hold him, he pulled himself away, jumping straight to his feet. "Don't say that! I know you're lying!"

His desperation near broke her heart. She could never say no to his cute face, damn him. Heaving a sigh of defeat, she gave in. "Okay fine, follow me." The other kids would surely be pissed at her for letting on too early, but she would rather that than an upset AJ.

And boy did that remove the frown from his face. He bounded around her as she got her crutches in order, kicking up sparkling snow behind him. "Where are we going?"

"The music room-"

The young boy had bolted off before she could finish, reminding her of another young boy she used to know when this all started. "Slow down, kiddo! You're not the one on crutches!"

His eagerness outweighed Clem's command, which was usually his law. He could hear muted talking from within Louis' music room, a few giggles here and there too. He crept closer to the door, utilising his amazing ninja skills. His tiny hand gripped the tinier doorknob, opening the door just a crack to find...huh?

The doorknob was set free from his hand, which had now fallen loosely by his side as he took one quiet step into the room. "What's this?" AJ disturbed the other kids, finding them in compromising positions. Louis was on his very tip-toes, tying some blue tinsel around the fireplace, Aasim and Ruby were lighting the last of the candles as Violet was gently moving the gramophone back into it's original place.

It was a real life record scratch moment.

"Oh shit," Louis broke the silence first, drawing everyone's line of sight to the intruder. He chucked the last of the tinsel up onto the mantle in a careless manner before throwing his hands into the air. "Happy birthday AJ!"

The other kids all dropped what they were doing, raising their hands in line with Louis. "Happy birthday!"

Said child stood there with his mouth hung wide open, taking in the sight. "What?" It was the only word racing through his mind.

Louis kneeled down to his level, sporting one of the biggest smiles AJ had ever seen. "It's your birthday little dude, gotta celebrate it big time."

"My...birthday?" Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat-

Willy tugged on the thick tinsel that ran from the fireplace to Louis' piano. "We managed to scrounge up some decorations from the drama class."

"And we re-used the banner from the party back when these guys got kidnapped." Ruby pointed to the banner above the doorway. The original message 'We're getting them back' had been scribbled out and somehow replaced with 'Happy birthday Alvin Junior'.

AJ spun around, his eyes bouncing between all the bright decor; the flickering candles, the weird fuzzy stuff on the piano, it was all so new. "You did this..for me?"

A slightly puffed Clementine finally made her way into the room, smiling with pure glee at how well her friends decorated the space. She stood beside her boy, trying to decipher what he was feeling. "What do you think AJ?"

"It's awesome!" He threw his hands up into the air.

Louis looked between his friends, all of them sharing evil little smiles. "So, who wants to go first?"

"First in what?" AJ questioned, nearly vibrating at wondering what else they could have planned.

Clementine gently nudged him forward with her crutch, pushing him into the centre of the room. "Gift-giving."

"Gifts?" He continued to question. So much new knowledge in such a short span of time.

Louis dead-panned, merely wanting the festivities to begin. "If you keep asking questions we're going to be here all day. Of course, we got you gifts! It's a thing you give someone to show appreciation or celebrate, and today little dude we're celebrating you."

"I'll go first since my gift is the coolest," Violet was guided over to AJ by Ruby, her smile never wavering. From behind her back she presented a roll up parchment, the corners slightly ripped.

AJ pulled it open and blinked rapidly, taking in the faded faces and text. "Green Day? What's that mean?"

"They were a really cool band, before everything happened," Violet nodded to the outside world. "I figured you could hang it up in your room. If I ever find one of their records, you'll be the first to listen, little man." Slowly guiding her hand to the curve of his shoulder, she gave him a gentle punch.

AJ was still hung up on why a day would be green but appreciated the thought from Violet nonetheless. "They look cool...but what's on their eyes?"

Green Day was a rare source of joy from Violet's sordid childhood, a fleating sense of nostalgia washed over her as she came to realise it'll do the same for him.

Ruby skipped closer to AJ once Violet took a seat on the piano stool, thankful that she got to go next. "I figured since you've become an A+ gardener, you could have this little guy," She brandished from behind her back a small pot, with an even smaller plant inside. "If you take good care of it, he'll grow big and strong."

"Just like me!" AJ was near bursting at the seams; the flower was rather dainty, small and barely purple, yet ready to flourish.

She gently pinched his cheek, gushing openly. "Just like you," Ruby bounced away on her feet, feeling another sense of pride at impressing the tot. She patted Aasim on the back, which turned more into a push when he didn't catch onto her actions. "C'mon, it's your turn now!"

Aasim shuffled over, not bothering to hide his gift. He cleared his throat before passing it to AJ. "Here dude," In his grasp laid a tightly bound book, his name carved into the leather cover. His precious journal that he guarded so dearly the night they first met.

AJ took it gently, treating the book as if it were made of glass. "But it's yours?" He questioned, remembering their first encounter. How times had changed.

Aasim shrugged, unsure of what to say. Dammit, he had this all planned out beforehand! "It's ours. Think of it as 'Ericson's History Volume One', you can finish it off if you like."

"This is cool, I hope I can write as good as you." AJ was so captured by his friend's neat handwriting, he didn't notice Aasims' sincere smile.

"My turn!" Willy yelled, pushing Aasim out of the way in the process. His gift was the only wrapped one, albeit it was wrapped in old textbook pages. A tear in the paper revealed a small piece of wood shining through. "It's a slingshot! Mitch and I used to hit walkers with them all day, now we can!"

AJ hadn't even finished tearing the paper away, but his heart still soared. "That's cool, I wish Mitch was here." He added quietly.

Willy lowered his head, gently fidgeting with his own fingers. "Me too."

Their friend's passing left a forever space in every room, an unnerving emptiness that will never go away.

"Okay Willy, my turn," Omar butted in, wanting to steer the conversation back to the joy. He handed AJ a wooden spoon with a neat little bow wrapped around the handle. "It's my best spoon. You can use it to help me cook dinner tonight."

Louis whipped his head to Omar, shooting daggers from his eyes. "You never let anyone help!"

Omar kept a strong smile as he turned to his friend, unphased. "No, I don't let you help because unlike you the kid actually listens to instructions."

"I listen, just like to take a more...casual approach to cooking." He shrugged, finding a sudden interest in his shoes.

"If by casual you mean undercooking the fish, then sure."

Louis poked his tongue out at his friend before sauntering over to AJ, ready to present the greatest gift of all fucking time. "I figured it's time for an upgrade, say goodbye to that crusty knife," Louis whipped out a small bar stool from behind him, holding it out in front of the boy.  "I present...Stoolio! Get it? Cause it's a stool."

"Nope!" AJ beamed brighter than Clem had ever seen, despite the joke flying way over his head. Louis just had that effect on people. The stool was heavier than it seemed, as it immediately hit the floor when AJ took ahold of it. The faded wood declaring the weapons' age, AJ traced the deep cracks with his fingers. "I think I'll call it CJ, Chairles Junior, like my name."

"That's a much better name. It's strong like you too. It defeats monsters, protects people and looks super cool." He purred, selling the gift as only the best of the best.

AJ looked between his new weapon and Louis, letting the weight of it settle in his small palms. It was stronger than his little knife, though not as easy to hold as his gun. But if Louis could do it, so could he. "Sounds more like you."

Clementine noticed the hitch in Louis' breath, both their hearts thumping from the young boys' sentiment. Louis could feel his heart slip up into his throat, thumping faster than his breathing could keep up. "Uh, wow, thank you. It's both of us."

If only AJ was aware of how much his statement meant to Louis, how he would hold onto it during his weakest hours. If that kid could believe in him, he must be doing something right.

Louis cleared his throat, choking back a quiet sob as his heart settled back down. "There's one final surprise, from all of us." He hopped over to a box beside the ladder, dragging Omar over with him.

The boys reached into the box and began to lift something of great weight, as they struggled to keep a tight grip. "Just don't ask how we got it." Omar heaved, forgetting just how little muscle he truly had.

From the box emeregd something AJ could only imagine in his wildest daydreams. A...giant...Disco Broccoli!

The tot stood in pure disbelief, his jaw hanging wide open. "Is that-"

"Oh hell yeah it is," Louis sneered, maybe just a little more excited than AJ.

The boys set it down besides the dusty fireplace, with Omar wiping his brow. "You like it?"

AJ wandered closer, getting a better look. It was certainly Disco Broccoli, despite there being a hole in his cartoon hand. He had the cool glasses and everything! But he looked...funny. "What...what is it?"

Louis clasped the tots' shoulder, it was always a fun venture showing him something from the old world. Seeing the wonder in his wide eyes, made the hassle Louis went through to get the damn thing worth it. "It's a pinata, bro! You hit it and stuff is supposed to come out."

Omar tapped the side of the pinata, being greeted by a soft echo. "There's nothing in it, but it's still fun to hit."

"You can use Chairles Junior there." Louis was nearly bouncing at the idea as he handed the stool leg to the birthday boy, ready for the absolute carnage he was about to witness.

AJ gripped his new(ish) weapon tightly, eyeing down the funny looking Disco Broccoli. "Awesome."

Clem watched from the piano as AJ tried to lift the stool above his head, nearly tipping over from its' weight. Her thoughts drifted to a dream she had, Lees' words at the forefront of her thoughts. "Wanting to give him a childhood, but knowing what it takes for him to survive."

"You okay, Clem?" Louis bumped his shoulder with hers, breaking her away from her memories.

Nodding slightly, Clementine hoped he couldn't notice the tears in her eyes. "Yeah, thanks for this. It's amazing."

"No problemo, it's good to see him smile."

Clem continued to watch AJ laughing with his friends, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "He's been doing that a lot since we've arrived here."

Louis continued to gaze at her, despite her not noticing. "You both have."

-

Just as it had always been, Clem and AJ sat side by side together on the steps of the courtyard, appreciating the rare beauty of the sunset. The sky a gallery of purely blue and purple. Clem disrupted the silence first, after having spent a lengthy amount of time remembering Rebecca and Alvin, wondering if they would be proud of their young boy. "Can I admit something?"

AJ curiously turned to her, awaiting with an eager tap in his foot.

"I don't actually know if today is your birthday," She pouted. "I know it's at the start of winter, but that's it. There were no calendars, no way to check the date. I just kinda had to guess every year. I also don't know how old you actually are." If she had to guess, either six or seven. Without access to a calendar, all these years trying to keep track of the fleeting months grew tiresome and redundant. Each day was the same, a date made no difference. Hell, she wasn't even sure of her own age anymore.

"Maybe I'm a thousand years old!" He bounced like the truly giddy child he was.

Clem laughed openly into the chilly air. "Sure thing, Grandpa." She pushed at his shoulder before looking back at the sky, knowing deep within her gut that Alvin and Rebecca were smiling with her.

They remained in a balanced silence for a while, until AJ turned back to her. "I don't think it matters. I get bigger and stronger every day, no matter how old I am I'll always protect us."

Clementine wrapped her arm around him, pulling him in close the same way she always had and the same way she always will. "I know you will, forever," She pressed a firm kiss to the top of his head, smiling into his thick hair. "Wanna know what we're having for dinner?"

"What?"

"Beans with apple slices."

"BEANS!"

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

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

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

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

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

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

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

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

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

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

And then the couple moved in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, yeah, because it is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just want to feel the rain again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Am nice. I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's the little things.

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

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

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

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

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

That's where you leave to?

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

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

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

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

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

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

A while. Years. I think .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It rattles a little and you look away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not this time.

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

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

It's invigorating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren't sure you want to know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know if you want him to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Warm me up?” 

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

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

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

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

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

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

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

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

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

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

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

Because I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?!” You demand. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But that was-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spookyold-saintjm]

maybe sub!yancy with 164 and 194?

164: “Stop teasing me so much…”

194: “Good boy.”

From this prompt list

Alright I know it took me FOREVER to get to this but the part of my brain that helps me write decided to pass tf out for a while I guess. 164 was requested twice! We’re all thirsty for sub!Yancy LOL.

Uhh yeah I’ve never written smut so yikes we’ll see. This one’s female reader, but I am definitely working on trying to improve and put out male reader and gender neutral options in the future! :)

NSFW Yancy x female reader

Yancy let out a yelp of surprise when you suddenly pulled him into the open door of prison’s laundry room. Everyone scheduled for laundry duty was gone for the day, as it was now drawing near time for dinner, and you and Yancy had been on your way when you saw your opportunity to do something you’d been wanting to try for some time now.

You clicked the door shut behind you, using the key you’d stolen and buried in your pocket to lock the door from the inside.

You spun to face Yancy, who stood with his arms crossed and his head tilted to one side.  “What’s this about? If you needed to do youse's laundry done today we coulda just—”

Your lips were on his before he could continue, pressing him against you with a tug on his white shirt. He was stunned at first, but quickly followed the pull of your lips against his. The kisses were deep and definitely heated, but when you reached your hands down to the waistband of his striped pants, he abruptly pulled away from you. You were both catching your breath when he stared back at you with wide eyes, although he was close enough to still have a grip on your waist.

“y/n, youse can’t be serious, we hafta be at the—”

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly. He cocked an eyebrow at you in reply. His eyes quickly scanned over your features as he tried to process what was going on. His pupils instantly darkened when you pulled your hand away and leaned in towards him, your lips at his ear, your fingers dropping from his lips to dance along his chest.

“Think you can keep quiet for a few minutes?” You asked, your voice low. He nodded quickly, and it was all the signal you needed to take him by the shoulders and press him into the wall next to you. Your lips collided, the kisses this time more hungry, more urgent. You slipped your hands under his shirt, running your fingers along the bare skin underneath. The faintest sound dropped from Yancy’s lips when you pulled your kisses away from his mouth, then across his jaw and down to the side of his neck. He squeezed your waist tighter when your teeth grazed the skin just below his tattoo, then gave the spot extra attention that would definitely be leaving a mark for the next day or two.

“y/n...” he started, but you muffled the sound with your mouth on his again. You pushed a slow, long roll of your hips into him, enough to feel how needy he was already. The friction was enough to send waves of desire through you, but you had more to do first.

While one of your hands rested near his shoulder, your thumb stretched just far enough to press into the base of his throat, your other reached down to feel him through the material of his pants.

“Fuck,” he sighed, and your smiled into his mouth when you gently curled your nails in toward him, making him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, could ya maybe stop teasing me so much…”

You immediately stopped your movements, and the hand that rested on his shoulder now covered his mouth. “You’re not being quiet,” you warned lowly, releasing your hold on him. “Do you want me to stop?”

Yancy almost opened his mouth to speak, but immediately caught himself and instead only shook his head. You couldn’t hide your smirk when you nudged your hips into him once more and made quick work of slipping your fingers beneath the waist of his pants, and in one swift motion he was bare. You followed with doing the same with your own, not bothering with removing your shirts. There wasn’t time; it was unlikely you would be unheard for long as the other inmates would be making their way down this very hallway any minute, so you had to make decisions and make them fast.

Yancy’s eyes were clouded with desire as he watched you. This was new, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t enjoying it despite that you’d practically rendered him frozen into place as you reached to glide your own fingers between your thighs. You sighed and lowered your head slightly, tilting your eyes upward to meet Yancy’s.

“Go ahead,” you said simply. He didn’t hesitate, his hand quickly replacing yours, the sudden shift of his larger fingers making you gasp softly. There was enough space between you to reach between your bodies, and you used the same hand that had been on yourself moments before to wrap around him, eliciting a low groan from him as your hand moved almost painfully slow along the length.

“Shit,” he muttered, his forehead pressed against yours, “sweetheart, please…”

You suddenly stepped away, separating your touches just long enough to spin him around so that you were now against he wall. You pulled him back to you by his wrists, dropping his hands near your thighs and spreading your legs slightly wider than they’d been before. Knowing what you wanted, Yancy leaned forward to place a single, softer kiss on your lips.

“Fuck me,” you whispered, and he quickly followed your command, easily sliding into you. You hummed in satisfaction, your toes curling as he slowly buried himself all the way into you. Once you’d adjusted, you gave him permission to keep going, and he slowly moved in and out of you with what control he had left.

“Good boy,” you breathed, tucking your head into his neck when his words made him stutter inside you. “So good, Yancy. Faster."

He picked up his pace, his breaths heavy, and it was all you could do to hold in the sounds that threatened to escape from you. He knew just the right places, the right rhythm, and it was enough to nearly send you over the edge right then and there.

You slipped your hands under the back of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. He uttered a low groan as your nails left faint marks along his back and shoulders. You lifted your head, capturing his lips in a burning kiss, finally allowing yourself to moan into his mouth.

His hands gripped your ass, your thighs, moved up under your shirt to cup your breasts through your bra, touching anywhere and everywhere he could reach in that moment.

“y/n, babydoll—” he muttered after a bit longer, but a low groan replaced his words. He’d sped up slightly, and your hips jerked forward to meet his thrusts.

“Me, too, Yance,” you replied through your teeth, knowing what he’d been trying to say. You gripped his waist like your life depended on it, pulling him deeper each time he moved toward you. “Me, too. Let go, babe.”

It didn’t take long for him to obey, your name stuttered between the whispered curses spilling from his lips as he reached his end. You spun him back around so that he was again pinned to the wall, riding him where you stood as you found your own release. Your head tipped back in pure bliss, no longer caring what sounds either of you were making as you rode out the high with him.

Your body all but collapsed against his, both of you gasping for air as you rested your foreheads against each other, your hands joined at your sides. “God, I love youse,” Yancy panted, his eyes fluttering closed while he recovered.

“I love you, too,” you answered quietly. You willed yourself to pull away from him, reaching town to pull your pants back up on your hips. “But let’s get out of here.”

Yancy was right behind you, and you both made sure the other looked presentable before quickly swinging open the door and letting yourselves back out into the, fortunately, empty hallway. Yancy glanced up at the clock on the wall as you began to make your way down the hall and frowned.

“Shit, we’s gonna be late. What’re we gonna tell ‘em?” he asked. The prison was very strict on punctuality, and it definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed that the two of you were strolling into dinner a few minutes later than was expected.

You shrugged, looking sideways at him with a smug smile that he was quick to return. “Eh, we’ll let them take a guess."

[asterekmess]

S3A - E1

Okay, instead of making like massive reblogs of thoughts as I have them for the episodes, I’m gonna just make a massive bullet point list that I’ll add to throughout the episode, so you get One post per episode instead of “Like all nine million of them.”

I put Read-More’s because I care.

Thoughts (of which I have far too many):

I’m in the first ten seconds of the fuckin episode. Why the fuck is Braeden electrocuting Isaac? Like, look, I wanna like Braeden. I have issues with her entire moral system, but I still wanna like her cus’ she saves Isaac. But...how am I supposed to do that when the literal first thing she does is electrocute my boy??? He’s knocked out, not DEAD (not that that’s how shocking someone’s heart even Works) and it’s not like she needs to trigger the healing process. He’s already got Gaping slash wounds on his chest. He’s hurt enough. ALSO. “Be quiet”?? R U Serious? You’re electrocuting him. YOU try being quiet with fucking jumper cables on your chest.

The CGI...is so bad. Oh my god. What the absolute fuck. it looks like Sharkboy & Lavagirl. And why aren’t Ethan & Aiden’s claws doing anything to the bike?

I AM CONFUSION. If the twins don’t have to take their pants off to do the Transformers shit, why do they have to take off their shirts? Can...can I just skip that? Make the big bad werewolf wear an ugly hybrid of two of their stupid ass sweaters? Or do Ethan and Aiden really just like being shirtless that much? (I wouldn’t put it past them)

What is with Braeden and the electricity?

The writing in this show, what the fuck? “I thought I told you to hold on” EXCUSE ME, ma’am. He literally just passed out. His bad I guess.

Guess who has to add the anti-scott tag to this now? Anyway, I hate that Allison’s bit in the intro is her kissing Scott and then drawing the bow. Like, they’re broken up. They don’t get together in this season. Why are they kissing in the intro? That had to have Totally pissed off Scallison fans.

There’s my boy, holding up lizard tattoo designs. Pls tell me he took a pic and sent it to Jackson with the caption “It’s YOU.” Like, yes, way too soon, but man it’s fuckin funny.

This tattoo artist is a good-ass salesman. However, p-sure he’s not a good-ass artist if he had to wrap Scott’s arm up That badly. Like...they have stuff for that. Fuck, the one I got on my ankle, they used SaranWrap and Tape. Just needs to be kept out of the open air for a bit. You don’t need like eight layers of gauze. I do feel for Scott tho. That tat probably cost him like $50-75 before the tip. Oof.

Eyyy, time to be salty. Ya’ll know I love Allison, but does it get any more clear that she totally bailed on everyone after the warehouse? She went to France! She doesn’t even know what happened to Jackson after he got cured. ALSO. Lydia says “Derek taught him the werewolf 101.” Not Scott. Derek. XP

Lydia, honey, leave Allison alone. If she doesn’t want to go on the double date, go alone and make it an orgy. Fun, right? Wait, no. Don’t. You’re 16. Don’t do that!

When exactly did they “agree to give each other the summer”? She said “I’m breaking up with you.” he said “I’ll wait” and then she cried into her dad’s arms. Like...why didn’t we get to see this apparently incredibly important conversation? (maybe because it didn’t happen??)

I fucking LOVE the “I’m just gonna say hi. HEYYYYY! You know....they probably didn’t see us.”

The most horrific thing about that moment was the bad CGI.

I WANNA POINT OUT how cute it is (in a like, sad way cus’ she’s terrified) that Lydia is close enough to Stiles now that she immediately goes for his side and they like insta connect with the eye contact. Not in like a Stydia way, but like, they’re close. she trusts him and goes to him when she’s scared, even though he’s human and you’d wonder if she shouldn’t go to Scott instead, since he’s the werewolf.

SCOTT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE DEAD DEER. Your ability to smell chemosignals/sense emotions has nothing to do with touching. Stop poking the dead animal.

Wait, WHY is there a full moon in that shot? The full moon isn’t for like a week! I COUNTED.

...what? Why the fuck does Braeden think Scott’s an Alpha? Why tho? Like, seriously? WHY? He’s not an Alpha yet. Nowhere near it. And if she knows bc Deaton told her (i think he was the one who hired her) then shouldn’t she know he isn’t one yet? IF SHE KNOWS that she can tell Melissa abt werewolves, WHY doesn’t she know that Scott’s Melissa’s son? Where is the LOGIC?

Scott’s morning routine is giving me Legally Blonde vibes. ~my perrrfectt dayyy, nothing standing in my wayyy~

I can’t tell. did Allison get highlights, or straight up dye her hair brown?

This sweet moment between her and her dad. Yes. Pls.

I will admit, I like getting to see each of their mornings.

Lydia...who are you fucking? Honey, you’re sixteen. Why isn’t whoever the fuck is in bed with you also getting ready for school? What.....the fuck?

Completely different Beacon Hills High School set. I really can’t blame the writers for that.

Wtf Davis? You list Erica and Boyd as being 17...since when? They’re supposed to be entering their Junior Year of high school. They would be 16 GOING ON 17. ANd what the hell do you mean Erica’s birthday is August 16th? She said in the last season that she’d “Just turned 16 a month ago” that was Spring semester. ???? Come on, guys. Seriously. Writing 101, getting to know your characters. I don’t know anyone writing a novel who doesn’t know the exact birthday of their characters. Plus, they cut 2 in. from Gage Golightly’s actual height, while adding an inch to Sinqua’s (according to google, which isn’t always reliable) Whatever. Boooooo.

Uh...that principal was threatened by the Argents. Victoria herself promised to torture him if he didn’t resign. Why does he look so surprised by the fucking sword in his office? For that matter, why is he at the school at all? He KNOWS the Argents attacked him. This should cause problems!

Honestly, Lydia, I love you. Like, go for it. Nothing wrong with not wanting to date and just wanting to have fun. My issues stem from YOU BEING 16. Yes, teenagers have sex. But this is ridiculous. Why is there so much sexualization? I knew a grand total of like....two teenagers who had sex at 16? and like one who did at 15 (which they say in canon she and Jackson were banging before her birthday). Like, it’s not nearly as common as y’all are making it out to be. Knock it off.

WHEN DID MELISSA MEET ISAAC PROPERLY? WHEN did that HAPPEN?

....so why didn’t Derek answer the phone? They literally never explain? He shows up, so...why didn’t he answer?

I’m SO InCredibly Disturbed by Jennifer having everyone’s phone numbers. HOW? In What Way is that REMOTELY appropriate? WHY did no one question it? Why didn’t STILES or LYDIA question it?

So tiny, bugs me so much. He didn’t turn his phone off. He turned his screen off...is it that hard to have him do the right one?

uhhh. Werewolves can smell other werewolves. Wanna tell me why Isaac can’t tell a werewolf just walked in the room? An ALPHA no less?

why TF are Kali’s iris’ and pupils so fucking massive?

So...what was the deal with the birds? Don’t they say later that Jennifer like summoned them? So they aren’t from the Alpha pack scaring animals? And also, how would the Alpha pack be scaring animals if they’re like, in the middle of town? They said in S1 that “wild animal sightings are up” like what 75% or something? “As though something is scaring them out” but that made sense, bc we knew Peter was running around in his full-shift (it’s a fucking full shift, it’s just fucked up) in the woods. But these Alphas aren’t, they’re integrating. So is it Jennifer that the animals are afraid of? Like, does she have sPoOkY aura or something?

More bad CGI.

WHy is no one responding to the woman stumbling around in nothing but a hospital gown?

ONCE AGAIN. Werewolves can Sense Werewolves. SCOTT you sensed Isaac in a BOYS LOCKER ROOM. DUKE IS RIGHT THERE. WHT THE FUCK?

angry smoker doctor  “Why don’t you wheel this joker out of here?” “I’m gonna go smoke” Grrr

Sir. clearly your mask wasn’t tied on appropriately. it shouldn’t just Fall Off when you touch it. there are Protocols! STOP THE SPREAD. also, someone wanna tell me why none of these alphas can keep their claws in? A lil flashy flashy red eye would’ve done the trick just fine.

Okay no, seriously what the FUCK is up with these contacts, you guys? THEY”RE MASSIVE???

Ugh, can I just *swoons* “I’m an Alpha!” slice “So am I.” That is just so fucking smooth. Woo. I feel so safe ohmygod. PLUS. Derek KNOWS Ennis. I can’t imagine how satisfying that had to be.

Uh, Derek, honey. You’re Isaac’s legal guardian. You can just Sign Him Out of the hospital. With clothes and everything. What are you doing?

Honey, what do you mean the county took it over? If they were gonna do that they’d have done it six fucking years ago. Unless you gave it to them, it’s still yours? I did the research. Like HOURS of it.

What do you MEAN there’s a magic healing herb that helps with Alpha wounds? Since when do Alpha wounds need extra healing, I thought they just took a lil longer? ALSO why is it growing INSIDE your house???? SCOTT. Isaac is fucking UNCONSCIOUS. Can your tattoo fucking WAIT A MINUTE?

I have so many questions. WHY does Braeden know who Allison is? If Lydia’s immune to magic, WHY is Braeden able to bruise her? WHY can Braeden DO magic? and WHY is Chris allowed to take Lydia out of school?

ALLISON you had Geometry LAST YEAR why are you holding a GEOMETRY BOOK??

ohhhhmygod, Derek. Derek. DEREK. Your eyes are pretty on a normal day. That little Blink and ruby reds thing? Ohmygod. I just. I wanna take a picture and just stare at it BUT. how tf does this whole red eye thing work? You can see in the dark....but now you also have x-ray vision? You know, I could believe it was thermal vision...maybe? If Scott was still healing for some reason maybe the tattoo would be brighter? Otherwise I have no idea what is going on.

BUT SCOTT”S NOT 18??? He’s Still fucking 16, or even 17, but not 18. WTF? He needs parental consent in the first place (i should’ve mentioned this in the other note abt the tattoo)

uhh...seriously? When someone breaks up with you and tells you not to talk to them anymore...why do you need a reward for doing as they asked? Like, yeah, you’re sad, I feel that. But making it a ‘reward’ sounds kinda weird. You know what makes it really easy not to text the ex that doesn’t wanna talk to you? Delete her number.

WHY THE BLOWTORCH? SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN? Peter’s not covered in tattoo from when he was literally burned alive, why the FUCK would a blowtorch create a black tattoo on Scott’s skin?

DEREK. HONEY. Why would Stiles be able to hold Scott still??? Scott’s a werewolf.

All this bullshit to explain away Posey’s tattoo that he got. Like, damn dude, we all like tattoos, but you have a job that needs bare arms on the regular. That was kinda rude.

Where did braeden get clothes? I forgot to ask.

uhhhh. Ephemeral might technically work in that sentence, but that’s still really awkward.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DESTROY HIS DOOR? YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. And WHY the instant fucking grr face? “why’d you paint the door?” uhh, leave him alone? He can do what he wants? It’s his house? Also, don’t get all fucking rude about the alpha pack. He told you it was a rival pack.

KALI. PUT SOME FUCKING SHOES ON. JESUS.

Why exactly does Scott see the symbol and INSTANTLY put together that it’s got anything to do with the Alphas or the animal attacks? Where is the logic jump there?

What exactly was the POINT of popping your claws if you were gonna kick her in the face???

UH, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell Scott that there was a whole other person with Isaac?

What is with the face touching, Duke? I’ve never known a blind person who actually wanted to rub their hands on my face to ‘find out what i look like?’

Really not a fan of all these weird jumps and camera angles with the awkward reflecting.

WOah WOah. Allison gets to PAINT her APARTMENT? Wtf kinda BULlshit is that? My landlord won’t let me do that. Rude.

I know they’re imprisoned and it sucks, but they’ve been there for four months, they had to have gotten bored. Do you think they broke into any of the security deposit boxes to see if anything was left behind?

Last thoughts: They really went for it with this episode. I have plans to change a lot of it. Hopefully I can mesh the changes with the general plotline.

[wendysanderson]

WENDY SANDERSON ( YARA SHAHIDI ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from JAMAICA PLAIN, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS but moved to Broadripple 1 YEAR ago. SHE is EXCITABLE and EMPATHETIC but can also be CLINGY and IMPATIENT.  

BASICS

Name: Wendy Sanderson

Age: 17

Grade: Junior

House: Keough

Cabin Room: Room 1

How long have they been at Broadripple: Started her sophomore year

Where are they from originally: Jamaica Plain, Boston, Massachusetts

Extra curricular: Chamber Choir, Women of Broadripple, Yearbook (writer), and Broadripple Unsolved

PINTEREST

CHARACTER AESTHETICS

Half-eaten bowls of Lucky Charms, colorful jackets from the local Goodwill, a heavily annotated copy of Mary Oliver’s Devotions, chipped nail polish, a varied collection of sunglasses, the ‘Are You Still Watching?’ Netflix screen, the Arnold Arboretum in bloom in the springtime, a hot cup of fruit tea, snack-based rewards systems, bottles of coconut oil, the communal groan of frustration on the decrepit Orange Line, $2 face masks, and late night Wikipedia deep dives.

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: Excitable, empathetic, imaginative, outgoing, affectionate, and generous

Neutral Personality Traits: Talkative, noncommittal, inquisitive, literary, and perceptive

Negative Personality Traits: Clingy, impatient, unreliable, scattered, blabbermouth, and moody

FACTS

About two years ago, Wendy’s family came into a solid chunk of change. Wendy’s mother Bahar is a nurse and caretaker. Over the past decade, she had been taking care of a wealthy elderly man in the Back Bay. When he passed, he unexpectedly left her some money in his will. Wendy’s parents almost immediately decided it would be invested in Wendy’s education. Her dad’s parents wanted her to receive a Catholic one, and her dad wanted Wendy to practice some independence, and so Broadripple came up in their research and she was off. Wendy’s hand in the decision-making process was decidedly minimal.

Wendy enjoys Broadripple in that it’s fun to romanticize a bunch of old buildings. She enjoys creating narratives about and daydreaming of students of the past among the hallowed halls more than she does doing group projects. The school itself is too far-removed from society for her to find it particularly scintillating, but she’s making do! She’s a pretty positive person, though undoubtedly impatient. But she’ll admit it has its other draws. Their reputation is near-flawless—disregarding all that spooky shit, which she personally finds cool and intriguing, since the endless forest has some real The Witch vibes—and it bolsters a lot of interesting clubs and classes she can be a part of. The longer she attends, the more uncomfortable she is with the wealth of her peers, as well as impatient with those she deems rude and snobbish. She also has a habit of falling in love/developing crushes easily, often, and recklessly, and Broadripple certainly doesn’t have a shortage of attractive people. It’s a real gold mine, there.

Wendy’s favorite subject is Literature Analysis. She enjoys it because it is something of a creative outlet; she firmly believes there’s a lot of leeway in how things can be interpreted and she enjoys interpreting things ad nauseam. She particularly likes when they cover poets, but none of that boring classical white guy stuff. She’s more of a Toni Morrison-Mary Oliver-Anne Sexton-Jeanette Winterson-Gwendolyn Brooks type.

HEADCANONS

Wendy misses home a lot. She’s a very sentimental, clingy person. It’s hard for her to be away from the people she loves. Every once in awhile she’ll take a Greyhound back home for the weekend.

Queen of having a wardrobe primarily composed of statement pieces!

Spent nearly the entirety of middle school writing elaborate Jane Austen fanfictions. She is absolutely loyal to Mr. Knightley’s ass! 🙅 Mr. Darcy do not interact.  🙅

[Let’s_Hear_It_For_The_Boy.mp3 on repeat]

Falls in love 5 times a day, yunno.

Writes a lot of poetry that may or may not be good but the poems sure are in abundance!

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? Stuck in the middle of the woods in a creaky, old cabin is less than what she hoped for. Born and raised in the city, staying in the actual dorms at BA took a major adjustment period already (the tree frogs and crickets alone heard distantly through her open window on a hot night already kept her up). It’s fun to poke around scary places on campus on the weekend with the BAU, but then it’s also nice to go back to the safe dormitories afterward. All in all, she’s not super psyched to be here but she will try and romanticize tf out of it for as long as she can! And tag along with BAU shenanigans, of course.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? Absolutely none. <3

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space?  Wendy is a proponent of the opposite of minimalism, which is Clutterbitch. She has various knick knacks and pictures and posters, as well as plenty of bins and storage to keep all her products, books, snacks, etc. There is no surface left untouched, let’s say that, and most likely a string of fairy lights somewhere. She also has a couple half-dead plants and a collection of postcards from her sister who travels around the country with the nonprofit she works for.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? This answer is gonna be a little repetitive irt the first answer above but at this moment in time, yes! And I say “at this moment in time” because she, at the moment, she wants to believe in it. When she was in the school dorms, it seemed like a fun thing to entertain. She’s a curious person and she has a lot of flights of fancy (as dubbed by her parents), so when it came to her attention that there was an unofficial club that explored the spooky past of the school? She was like, sounds fun! :) I wanna be included! :) So I’ll say she genuinely believes in spooky stuff, but not cryptid stuff.

Are they easily spooked? On the whole, surprisingly, no. But again, this environment is very unfamiliar to Wendy. All of her outdoors-y knowledge stems from the time she spends at the Arnold Arboretum in Boston and in/around Jamaica Pond. She grew up in a city and has very little experience outside of it. Unfamiliarity can brew paranoia, but her spooks are more animal (bears, bobcats, fishercats) related than supernatural.

AND FINALLY,

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

in which no one is surprised <3

[theshinsun]

Hello again! Here I am sending more 😂 Do you mind doing character thing with Kasamatsu, Imayoshi, Wakamatsu and Otsubo? If it's too much, can you do with the first three? Thank you 💕

Hello again! ^^ (So sorry for the delay I was half done and then I got hit with homework and classes and didn’t have much time to do more analyses, but they’re done for the week now! I’m free!) 

I don’t mind at all! But if it’s alright with you, I probably will just do those first three, not just because it’ll be ridiculously long otherwise, but because I don’t really? think I have any strong specific feelings for Otsubo? Idk why, I like him I just didn’t connect that much with him I don’t think... but I’ll gladly talk about the others!

Kasamatsu

How I feel about this character

GOOD SENPAI. I love this guy so much and wish he got to interact with more of the cast, I really vibe with his character design (his eyes are just... damn, also SOCKS), and I love the relationship he has with his team. He’s ruthless but obviously cares about all of them working together well, and is just looking for the respect he’s due as captain. Boy puts up with so much bullshit from his team of chaotic flaky weirdos, someone needs to cut him a break.  

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Kise (KiKasa ftw, the character development Kise goes through because of Kasamatsu is excellent, and almost instantaneous after he joins the team [“I liked being Kise of Kaijo”]. it’s really easy to interpret his behavior toward Kasamatsu as a crush; there’s no denying they’ve got chemistry and work well together... and even tho Kise drives his senpai nuts, they obviously both care about each other a lot)

Aomine (I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. They have one [1] interaction in canon, but that one interaction sold it for me. Aomine showing deference to someone and calling them “senpai”, helping him up after he got knocked down which seems... pretty unusual for him at the time, I’m so down for these two being in a relationship, it’s such a different dynamic than I usually see with pairings featuring Aomine, and there seems to be some legit respect to build off of there)

Imayoshi (I blame Lysapadin’s fic The Long Game for this, the way these two play off each other there and also canonically is... hilarious, the flirting, the Banter, please give me more quality captain ships I have a need) 

Hyuuga (MORE QUALITY CAPTAIN SHIPS. I talked about them a little in my list for Hyuuga, but I just love the idea of both of these tough, exasperated captains getting to be vulnerable with each other)

and this one is a crossover but

Oikawa Tooru (maybe because he reminds me so much of Kise, and Kasamatsu so much like Iwaizumi, I feel like they’d have a similar dynamic, but it’d be interesting to see how, unlike Kise, a hardworking somewhat self-destructive person and a fellow third-year like Oikawa would get on with this guy.) 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Hmmm.... I’m gonna have to say Imayoshi again, even tho they work together as a couple too. The way they interact is so good, whether it’s platonic or not, and I’d love to see more one-on-one interaction with them. It could just be because the way Lysapadin handles their respective personalities in multiple fics is so perfect, but if they’re not romantically involved I’d at least like to see them as snarky semi-begrudging basketball buddies. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don’t know? If I have one? Mostly bc I don’t really know what the fandom itself thinks about Kasamatsu, he didn’t get a lot of press even in KNB’s heyday. A random opinion/hc of him tho is he seems to be a bit of a pessimist. Whenever he’s commentating he’s just talking about how the team’s gonna lose, and even before his own game he seemed to just be thinking about how he lost before. Idk what else to give ya, just something I observed that I don’t really see talked about or portrayed for this guy.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

*deep inhale* MOOORE SCREEEENTIME. And not just as a commentator/attachment to Kaijo where Kise hogs the spotlight, give this guy some time to interact with other characters and flesh him out some more please! I know I’m a broken record but that’s the only thing I can think of to improve him.

Imayoshi

How I feel about this character

I didn’t used to have much opinion of this guy tbh, when I was new to KNB… but NOW, damn, I love him every time he appears. He’s hilarious, I love how sassy and clever he is, I love that he has an accent (tho it’s only pointed out in the manga), I love that he gets to have little tidbits, like that he’s bad at drawing but good at mind-reading, and how he wears slippers in a school environment and just goes around teasing everyone, whether they’re teammates or opponents. Love this guy. I love how extra he is and I’m living every time he’s on screen.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Aomine (ok I talked about this quite a bit already in my Aomine rant analysis, and I mostly blame Lysapadin’s A Firm Hand series, but I just can’t get enough of the idea of these two together… [also this comic ] Imayoshi taking Aomine in hand and knowing how to handle him when no one else does, and gradually warming up to him when he stops playing tough and finally shows his soft side. good shit)

Momoi (also probably bc of A Firm Hand, but I could see these two having a very interesting relationship. They’re both extremely smart, and good at understanding people, and I really like the idea of Imayoshi taking Momoi under his wing so she doesn’t have to suffer in silence and handle everything by herself. I feel like they’d be surprisingly sweet to each other, but lesbehonest, also a potentially terrifying power couple that I almost never see done)

Kasamatsu (again, just like above, a unique dynamic and a lovely rarepair that doesn’t get talked about enough. they didn’t get nearly enough time to play off each other in canon but what we did see was damn good) 

Hanamiya (ok so… I’m not immune to this ship. I’ve seen some art, a couple fics, and it doesn’t seem to be much of a thing anymore, but still, why the hell not. they’ve got history, they’re both smart slightly evil [or very evil] shits, and they’d be such a disaster of a couple that’s why I love them)

My non-romantic OTP for this character

If not Kasamatsu, then probably Susa. They only got a little time to bond in canon, but I do love their dynamic and how chill they seem to be with each other. They remind me of a team mom/dad duo (tho I couldn’t tell you which was which lol). I could probably be talked into shipping them romantically, but I also just like the way they get along as friends and teammates. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

This is more an argument I keep having with my sister… but I actually, genuinely like this guy’s design. She thinks he looks creepy and too evil and doesn’t like that his eyes are drawn closed, but esp in the manga, he looks really polished and I like that you can tell when he gets serious by whether you can see his eyes open. (or as I say to my roommate “oh shit he’s got eyes they’re in trouble”)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wish we got to see more of him just hanging with his team. Idk maybe I’m biased, but I feel like Touou in particular doesn’t get that much time devoted to, like, practice and normal everyday shit (maybe bc we got to see Kaijo twice and Shuutoku got a whole training camp plus some, but all we get of them is the hot springs scene and a very short scene at the beginning and end of the show imeanwhat) I would’ve liked to get to know this guy better and see more of how he runs his very strange individualized team, but that could just be me.  

Wakamatsu

How I feel about this character

My dude puts up with so much shit. I mean the first we see of him he’s getting kneed in the stomach by a certain dickish first-year, and he just always seems… so done with what’s going on around him. When he’s not yelling about it, which… mood, tbh. He’s relegated to little more than a background character in the anime, and only gets a liiiittle more development in the manga (as well as lots of really good faces), but tbh I’d love to see more of him. I’d love to know what he’s like as a captain and see more of how he gets along with the team; he’s the kind of hotheaded noisy player they make into the protagonist of other shows and I want to know more about him.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Momoi (k a couple of my friends @spaztictwitch and @hadenxcharm actually sold me on this one. It’s a really really rare pair, but now I can’t stop thinking about it and I really like the possibilities of them as a couple.)

Aomine (again I talked a little bit about this in my Aomine essay, but I’m a sucker for this kind of ship… the love/hate dynamic, I mean. that doesn’t get old does it. and yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen content for these guys together, maybe I should take it on myself)

Sakurai (hot-tempered senpai/captain and anxious apologetic mushroom, sign me tf up these two would be Hilarious as a pairing, oh my god. I love it)

Kiyoshi (k listen. LISTEN. yes all I’ve got is the fact that they’re both centers and they only interact, like, twice, but the idea popped into my head and I think I could actually totally see it. any takers?)

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Imayoshi. I don’t know if I’d ship them as a romantic pair (tho like with most things, if someone made a good case for them I’d consider it), but I do like their canonical interactions, like Imayoshi explaining the exceptions made for prodigies in sports (“do you know the golfer Tiger Woods? How about Shaq?”), and passing the proverbial hat to him when he retires as captain (“no worries, you’ll do fine!” like he’s reassuring a new parent or smth lmao). They’re good teammates even if Touou is not really about teamwork, and I like the mutual respect in how they seem to get along.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Not just a one-note guy who yells all the time. I mean, yes, he does yell and he’s got a short temper, but so does Kagami and people don’t portray him as a guy with only one emotion and that emotion is Anger. I mean… usually they don’t. Idk maybe it’s because most of his screentime involves him butting heads with Aomine, but he seems to get along with the rest of the team alright. He respects his seniors and the spirit of the team too, he’s just an all-around good guy that seems to get the short end of the stick a lot.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I have a MIGHTY NEED to see how this guy does as captain, I want to know how he does things differently than Imayoshi and how he handles all the bullshit the team throws now that it’s all gonna be landing on his shoulders. We only got a tiny scene at the end of the show demonstrating his policy about Aomine, and we barely saw him at all in the Last Game, is he doing okay?? Is he ruling Touou with an iron fist or getting into screaming matches with his kouhai? I need to Know.

Thanks so much for asking, I really appreciate the show of interest! <3 Sorry again about the delay!

[slothcritic]

Dragon Ball Z Abridged - Episode 7 Review

Humor that doesn't let up. This episode is non-stop, action-packed, and delivers on everything it tries to do.

The cold open for Saiyans? On My Planet? (It's More Likely Than You Think) has a continuation to the "are we there yet?" skit, capped off with the Saiyans collapsing a building and cratering into the concrete, thus finally arriving on Earth. It's simple dialogue but the pacing, the delivery and the fact that it closes off a running joke makes it a wonderfully effective opener.

[Title Sequence]

Most of this scene has comedic and plot-relevant heft to it. Nappa glasses a city because he hates awkward silences and we as viewers are reminded that the Saiyans are here for the Dragon Balls. The "epic foreshadowing" joke however just feels needless and clunky. I wouldn't say it's out of character, Vegeta constantly begrudges Nappa's idiocy, but perhaps this line should've been written with less flashing bells and alarm signals reading "HEY GUYS, WE'RE MAKING A JOKE OVER HERE."

After a brief back-and-forth with Gohan and Piccolo, Krillin shows up, and... goodness me his voice is squeaky. Let me take a timeout from discussing this episode in a self-contained context. I'll criticize the microphone quality or the writing or the weaker visual gags or the editing missteps, but it's important to point out that not all of the show's improvements have been made through technical means. The cast has also improved personally as voice actors over the years. These contrasts are most notable in characters like Vegeta, Krillin and King Kai. Their modern voices are rounded out much better on delivery, whereas from the outset they're scratchy, unrefined, or even muddled. This also matters partially in-context of the episode itself, because goodness did that voice take me out of my viewing experience.

Krillin and Gohan catch up on how their respective year of training has been. While Gohan has no qualms about his stay with Piccolo, we're treated to distant laughter and an ominous pair of eyes in the background while Krillin undergoes what I can only assume is a PTSD-induced flashback.

One Fight Club reference later, the Saiyans finally meet the main ensemble of Piccolo, Gohan and Krillin.

"Hi."

Appreciating Nappa's role in this series is not exactly an uncommon or niche opinion, but I don't feel the urge to dismiss his humor or succinct, faithful-to-character writing just for the sake of being a contrarian or trying to get a reaction out of people.

I can see it now - "Nappa's characterization as a bumbling oaf is wildly inconsistent with the idea that he would've been a Saiyan General, or one of the most respected military mights in the universe. Vegeta would've been well aware of his character and annoying tendencies from a very young age and would've gotten the hell out of dodge the second he was capable. This depiction is nothing but a transparent flanderization of an originally unremarkable character created for the sole purpose of having a quotable, marketable personality with viral potential in a show that has so far been 'mildly entertaining' at it's peak."

Let me be clear. This is a parody. It’s meant to be pointlessly funny about certain topics. It’s meant to breathe life into creative interpretations of characters for the sake of humor. If I don’t think it’s funny, I will be critical of that. But I see no point in disliking something that I think is funny purely because it is either “popular” or, dare I say it, a “mainstream” opinion.

Vegeta is the kind of person who needs a strong sidekick who's subservient, loyal, and doesn't question orders. Nappa checks most of those boxes across both the original series and this one. Additionally, unlike a lot of other jokes or attempts at humor in this series, Nappa's very simple writing has consistently been a hit. Aside from the Arlia montage with no music, I can't think of a single line of dialogue or joke that Nappa has said that was a complete, useless dud. If it works, it works.

"So, you guys are the Saiyans?" "No."

I want to put on the record that I paused the episode after Nappa said "Hi", wrote for ten minutes on that, then resumed the episode and this line played. I immediately had to pause it again because I was laughing. Just the sheer childishness or petty playfulness that constantly surrounds Nappa and his counter-play with Vegeta injects something completely new and wonderful into this series.

The jokes don't stop after this one. This skit continues with the rule of threes, a callback to Vegeta being a prison bitch, a nerd joke, a eunuch joke, and more. I don't want to talk about all of these individually or I'll be here all day, but let's put a bookend where Nappa reads their power levels. These are all excellent jokes that keep up with the consistently funny pace set by Nappa's introduction. Perhaps the weakest skit is the two Saiyans snickering at Piccolo. It would probably work better if redone now, but the delivery on the laughter isn't entirely convincing enough to flow like everything else does. That said, the joke that an asexual race wouldn't have genitals lands pretty neatly within Nappa's ballpark of humor.

The idea that the Saiyan's power levels are measured based on units of Raditz, and the notion that they can actually grow beings with the same power level as Raditz, is hilarious. Nappa's "Taa-daa" after the Saibamen are revealed is like icing on a very dramatic cake.

I've gotta say I'm with Tien on this one - As someone who grew up in the city where they filmed the Fraggles, I take offense to the implication that they're obscure!

"More bald people!" - I have no idea what Toriyama has against drawing hair (let alone facial hair), but this is a very recurring trend in his art style and I'm glad TFS made fun of it. A cameraman earlier had made the same joke, but it wasn't Nappa saying it, so it was automatically less funny.

Another extremely iconic scene, and at the time a complex visual gag for what the series has done so far, is when Nappa throws the Pokeball at Chiaotzu. The fact that Vegeta deals with so much of Nappa's annoying shit but plays along here just makes this scene so much better.

"That's because you have to damage it first."

This joke has questionable veracity with only Nappa and his “lul so random” take on Chiaotzu’s appearance, but these concerns are immediately dashed by Vegeta, and this is why the dynamic works - Nappa on his own would just be too much stupidity, but Vegeta's deadpan counterbalance provides a nice anchor to reality and solidifies this joke even if Nappa is the one carrying it.

I'm actually rather surprised they didn't draw any comparisons to the Saibamen being Pokemon either. There's six of them, they're all vaguely creature-like beings of adequately short stature, and could quite literally be described as pocket monsters because they can be grown by seeds you keep on your person.

Yamcha lands on the scene with his big damn hero speech, and then immediately one of the Saibaman uses Self Destruct on him. No fight scene, no escalation, just immediate death for you good sir. The scene lingers on Yamcha's corpse while Krillin sheepishly cheers in the background, and that's where the outro plays.

Conclusion

Holy hell this was a good episode, even in retrospect. Almost all of the jokes landed, the pacing and consistency was on point, and we finally have some dramatic gravitas with the Saiyans arriving on Earth. A lot of this episode disappears fast because of how much it draws you in with the interactions and back-and-forth between all of the characters. It's succinct, it's well-written, and the balance and coordination of different kinds of humor play into each other wonderfully here.

If I had to say anything negative about this episode at all, it might be that some scenes played out for too long. While the "humor floor" and "humor ceiling" are definitely a lot higher in this episode than in almost every other episode, there is some variation in joke quality. As I said, nearly every joke in this episode works, but how much does it work? We've reached the point where if the jokes were athletes in a 100m dash, they're no longer breaking both of their legs at the start, but someone still has to cross the finish line first and last. This is also a very dialogue-heavy episode. That can be a good thing, but there's little attention elsewhere in the production of this episode. Things like non-obligatory or joke-dependent sound design come to mind. The video quality is also rather poor. KaiserNeko does switch over to high quality footage for Season 2 and onward, but in Season 1 it's very easy to see the frames shaking or jerking as they spice entire scenes back and forth for their lip flaps. Everyone still has cheap mics.

With that said, I feel like this is a landmark episode for TFS finding their style and settling into a confident stride for the rest of the series.

Score: 80

Passing Thoughts

"You're a prince?" "No." "Fuck you Nappa."

"Oh my god, he blew up the cargo robot. AND THE CARGO WAS PEOPLE!"

"Those readings are useless." "You mean like YouTube friends?" - OOF. That was a great line in 2008, and I personally still think it is, but does YouTube even have a friend system anymore? Or did that get integrated by some other Google platform?

[bbaba-yagaa]

Who You Are Now

A/N: This is the last request that I received for the March challenge and one again, it was requested by my friend Ele! the promts were “Embrace” and “shut up and kiss me”. This is my very first TC&TF fic and it really drove me nuts while writing it.

Summary: This fic takes place after TC&TF book 3 and follows Dom and Sei as the deal with an unforeseen issue.

Parings: Dom x Sei

Rating: T?

Word count: 3,160

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters! I'm only borrowing them.

**********

The steady, distinctive footfall of a horse's hooves against soft earth are the only sound that Dominic Hunter registers as he and his trusty steed near their destination. His mind has been clouded with troublesome thoughts the entire length of his journey from Stormholt back to his new home in the Blackspine mountains. The festival held for the anniversary of Queen Kenna's wedding had gone off without a hitch. He had more than his fill of music, good company and of course the food and ale only available at his old stomping grounds. But his visit and it's events seem to have had a strange unexplainable effect on him. Three days into the journey, Dom finally finds himself on the narrow, winding trail that leads deep into the heart of the mountain range. Off in the distance, nestled against a vast mountainside, rooftops of several quaint cottages come into view and Dom's heart begins to pound furiously; threatening to burst from his chest. He has no idea how to reveal his troubles to Sei but given their past history, she probably already knew somehow that something was amiss. The woman of his affection is no fool and she certainly doesn't tolerate them either: even if they are devilishly handsome. He chuckles slightly and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth at that last thought.

Villagers respectfully greet Dom while he passes them by on his way to meet with Sei's grandfather, Anu Rhuka. The blue eyed fire wielder hopes to speak with his master before having to face his lover, but much to his dismay, the elder of the tribe herself appears, as if out of thin air, on the path before him.

Sei's harsh, stoic gaze has softened ever so slightly since the successful liberation of the five kingdoms, six including the newly designated fire tribe. The only person who took great notice of this was of course Dom, who constantly badgered her when she would deny what he knew to be a fact. But in this particular moment, her icy gaze of old is on full display in light of her lover's sudden anxiety.

“How was the festival Dom?” Sei’s tone is neutral despite the fact that he nearly falls off his horse at the mere sight of his mate.

“I-it was fine! Yeah! Everyone was asking about you. I told them you had important elderly duties to attend to.” Dom chuckles slightly at his own joke as he brings the horse to a halt.

“Fine? Then why do I sense unease in you? Was Kenna unable to enter the spirit world?” Sei's eyes stay fixed on Dominic as he hastily dismounts his horse while avoiding eye contact.

The blue eyed man begrudgingly meets the harsh gaze of his mate as he takes a deep breath and begins to tell his story. “Of course she was able to enter it and those waiting for her there said their goodbyes and made peace. It lifted a huge weight off her shoulders; I could sense it. No, I felt it.”

“The two of you never fail to impress me. I've never heard of anyone outside the fire tribe lineage entering that plane. Impressive indeed. But this weight that was lifted; is this the reason you're riding a horse like a lowlander?” Sei's expression softens slightly; perhaps sensing her own unnecessary severity.

Dominic had fully expected his troubles to be revealed rather quickly but he had no time at all to prepare his explanation. “No! I-I uh… wanted to take my time and enjoy the scenery. The land between here and Stormholt is breathtaking. Last time we made that journey I didn't get to really take in the beauty of-”

“Dom, I have no interest in idle chatter. You can transform into a dragon and fly. Nothing is more breathtaking or exhilarating than soaring through the sky thousands of feet above the earth. What's the real reason you spent three days on horseback?”

“Alright! You got me.” The blonde haired man sighs in resignation and pauses for a moment before explaining himself. “I can't transform. As soon as I realized it, I entered the spirit world to see if there were answers for me there. Obviously, I had no luck with that so I rode back on a horse. Nobody has ever talked about this type of thing happening to a fire user so I was nervous to tell you.”

Sei nods and runs a hand absentmindedly through the fox fur collar draped across her shoulders while pondering Dominic's words. After a few tense moments of silence, the dark haired woman shoots her lover a small smile and places a firm hand on his shoulder. “It sounds like your center has shifted. This is an extremely rare occurrence but it is not unheard of. Come, take a walk with me.”

“Hey wait where are we going? And what do you mean my center shifted?” Dominic follows after Sei as she begins to cross a small bridge over the sparkling brook that runs through the village and valley beyond.

“To rediscover your center, Dom. I think I know just how to do so. Now hurry; you know I am not a patient teacher.” The elder of the fire tribe steps off the small wooden structure, walks into a clear area before lifting her hands as she is  consumed by mauve flames. The extended arms stretch and morph into leathery red and grey wings, tipped with lethal talons as the rest of her body grows to massive proportions. When she has fully achieved her dragon form, Sei turns back to Dom and gestures for him climb on her back.

“Just had to rub it in didn't you?” The blue eyed man shakes his head while climbing aboard. He settles in and takes hold of a pair of horns protruding from Sei's neck. “So where are we going?”

“For a ride.” With these words, the fire elder flaps her wings, propelling them both into the sky. She rapidly gains altitude as Dom clings tightly to her serpentine neck. For several minutes she soars gracefully over the blackspine mountains.

Dom leans forward and yells out to Sei over the roaring wind. “You know, this isn't like you. I mean just going for a nice peaceful flight like this. What's gotten into you?”

An incredulous snort escapes the maw of the fire elder. “We aren't up here to sight see. We are going to help you rediscover your center.” Once again, Sei flaps her powerful wings and propels the two of them up into the sea of clouds above. When they break through the billowing mist, an eerie silence falls between them.

After what seems like an eternity, Dom breaks the silence. “Um, Sei? How are we going to rediscover my center all the way up here? Shouldn't I be sitting in lava?”

“That didn't work before; so why would it work now?” Sei doesn't glance back at Dom is she speaks; her attention is fully fixed on navigating the sky ahead.

“Well, I don't know I was just saying. So what's the plan?”

“You said it yourself. When Kenna entered the spirit world and received her closure, you felt a significant shift. You told me the key to your center originally was the queen herself. The two of you will always share a special bond but it sounds as though your lives aren't connected as they once were. I believe it's time for you to embrace who you truly are.”

The wind whips savagely through Dom's hair while he silently digests Sei's words. He shakes his head in attempt to rid himself of troublesome thoughts. “And who am I?”

“That's what we are here to find out. Consider this a trial by fire. Or rather, by fall.” With these words, Sei folds her wings and pitches into a barrel roll that casts the unsuspecting man into the void. After the ejected passenger disappears into the sea of clouds below, Sei straightens out and once again settles into an elegant glide.

As Dom plummets, screaming at the top of his lungs, he struggles to decipher the meaning of the fire elder's cryptic words. This proves to be an impossible task, as his thoughts keep returning to the same question, ‘Why did I need to be dropped out of the sky?’. The earth below and the rate of his descent is more than enough encouragement for the blonde man to figure things out quickly. He closes his eyes and wills away the wind roaring around him.

*********

When the world around him falls silent, Dom slowly opens his eyes and finds himself on an ethereal path that extends beyond the horizon. Familiar, soothing hues of blue and millions of stars welcome him once again to the spirit world. A thick veil of fog blankets the ground and curls silently around Dom's legs as he begins to make his way down the winding path. His pace quickens when the usual inhabitants of his subconscious fail to appear as they had during previous visits to this surreal plane of existence.

His growing anxiety causes his brow to furrow in frustration and Dom breaks into a full sprint down the path into the crippling unknown. “Margaret? Rose?!” Desperation hangs in the words that escape his lips while echoing across the void. The pleas die out, unanswered in the crushing abyss, much to Dom's dismay. For what seems like an eternity, he races across the vast, desolate plane until his blue eyes begin to blur with tears. Exhaustion finally overtakes him as he collapses to his knees defeatedly.

As he wallows in agony, a single, horrid thought pries at Dom's subconscious while struggling to catch his breath. Would Sei actually allow him to die in the real world? Surely she would catch him before he hit the ground. But there had a reason for this insane ‘trial’. Frustrated and defeated, Dom tosses back his head and shouts into the sky. “What am I missing here?!”

As the words leave his lips, a pair of silhouettes materialize in the distance and their sudden appearance draws Dom's full and undivided attention. A glimmer of hope ignites within the fire wielder’s chest as the pair approaches him rapidly. With renewed strength, he pulls himself to his feet and makes toward the unknown entities. Minutes seem like hours as the three venture wordlessly towards each other. When he can finally make out their faces, Dom's heart skips a beat and his jaw drops in disbelief. He'd only seen their faces once before; illustrated within the pages of an historic text Raydan had discovered within the great library of Ennan. Disbelief causes him to rub his eyes in an attempt to dispel what he believes to be an illusion. The three of them come to a halt mere paces away from each other and Dom, in a rare moment, is lost for words.

“Yes, it's really us son.” Arden Alcantar, a former noble of Fydorian royalty and Dom’s father, breaks the silence first. Beside him, beaming brightly at her fully grown child, is Idara of the blackspine’s fire tribe.

“B-but how? You guys have never appeared to me before. Why now?” Dom’s words are fumbled and he struggles to form them with his bone dry mouth.

“You didn't need us before, Dominic. But we have been here, watching over you as you grew into the man that you are now.” Idara pauses briefly to steel herself; her amber colored eyes brimmed with overwhelming joy. “Your father and I couldn't be more proud of what you have become.”

Overcome with emotion, Dom throws both arms over each of his long lost parents and shares a tearful, emotional embrace with them. Tears of happiness stream down everyone's faces and after what seems to them a brief moment, they separate and dry their faces.

“I'd love to stay here with you guys and catch up but I'm-.”

“Falling from the sky. We know dear, that's why we are here. To ask you the question.” Idara takes her son's hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

“Alright, so what's the question?”

Arden drapes an arm over Dom's shoulder and hugs him affectionately. “What are you, son? Or if you prefer it worded this way: who are you?”

Dom scratches his head in frustration and groans in annoyance. “Why does everything here involve a riddle? I hate riddles. I'm me, and I always have been!”

“But are you a lowlander?” Idara questions her son while giving her husband's shoulder a playful squeeze and a bright smile as Arden rolls his eyes at her. “Or are you a fire wielder?”

“That's easy, I'm a fire w-” Dom stops short as the answer, suddenly extremely obvious to him, presents itself. “I'm neither. No, wait it's actually a bit of both. I have the ability to control fire like you, mom, but I was raised at Stormholt in the lowlands where dad was born and raised. Now that the wars are over, I'm a kind of bridge between the two and the times of discrimination between those who have very different ways of looking at life are finally beginning to fade.”

Arden and Idara both beam proudly at their son as they nod in unison. Together, they step forward and once again envelop Dom in a warm embrace.

“Yes! You've got it son! Now we better let you get back before things get…” Arden trails off as he steps away from his son once again.

“Messy. Before things get messy.” Idara’s statement is playful in nature, but the sarcastic tone doesn't keep a horrified expression from spreading across her husband's face.

“Dear was that really necessary?”

“Oh come on! He will be fine and I'm only teasing him. You know that right Dominic?”

“Yeah, I know mom. Now I know where I got my sense of humor from.” Dom chuckles softly as his parents begin to back away from him and begin to fade into the ethereal mist of the spirit world. “Wait! Will I see you guys again?”

“Of course dear! You know how to find us.” The emotional, dark haired woman brushes a bittersweet tear from her eye before waving goodbye to her son.

“I love you mom and dad. Thank you, for everything. I wish…”

*******

Dom snaps back to reality and realizes he's about to crash face first into the unforgiving earth below. Instinctively, he throws his hands forward in a vain and illogical move to protect himself. Screaming with what he believes is his last breath, Dom closes his eyes and awaits the comforting darkness. But through his tightly clenched eyes, the fire wielder catches a glimpse of blue flames flickering to life around his arms. Instantly his eyes snap open, just in time to witness his outstretched limbs morphing into familiar wings. Dom's heart begins to race and he bursts into hysterical, joyous laughter as his body twists and contorts until he once again becomes a winged beast of the sky.

“Yes! It worked!” Just a few moments shy of meeting his demise, Dom rotates his now gargantuan body around and flaps his powerful wings, propelling himself skyward once again. In the exhilarating moment that he launches himself toward the heavens, a familiar grey and red mass manages to narrowly avoid a collision with him.

“Hey, watch where you're flying!” The words yelled after Dom by Sei are barely registered by the former as the triumphant blue dragon continues his rapid ascension.

When he breaks though the sea of clouds high above the earth, the ecstatic serpent settles into a majestic glide while catching his breath. As the sun begins to set, it ignites a magnificent myriad of colors amidst the misty air around him and Dom's mind is finally at ease. The sound of wings beating the air interrupts the tranquility as Sei joins her lover amongst the heavens. The two over them glide silently together for what seems to be an eternity before Dom clears his throat and speaks up.

“So… you were really going to let me die huh?” The blue skinned dragon casts a sideways glance at his partner.

“No I was not. Did you not see me right there behind you? You nearly ran into me. You just happened to figure it out at the last possible moment which is very typical for you. But I knew you'd be fine. I have much faith in you Dom.” Sei's fanged maw twists upward into a sly grin as her companion shakes his head in disbelief.

“You sure have a funny way of showing affection Sei, but I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Now how about we actually do something fun for once?” Dom casts a mischievous look at his suspicious partner before angling downward into an aggressive nose dive.

The red and grey dragon follows suit and joins Dom as he plummets once again toward the earth below. The two of them fold their wings and engage in a contest of velocity; each of them refusing to back down as they near the ground at breakneck speeds. When the earth looms threateningly close, the two dragons open their wings in perfect synchronization and use the momentum to soar skyward once again. Upon reaching the peak of the resulting glide, the two serpents meet midair, collapse their wings and lock talons together before angling downward into a dizzying spin. Blue and amber reptilian eyes lock in a battle of wits  as the collective mass of blue, red and grey plummets back to earth. When the two of them sense the ground once again looming close, their talons release and the dragons separate before gracefully gliding apart. The two of them break their momentum before coming in for a safe landing. After transforming back into their human forms in a shower of purple and blue sparks, Dom takes Sei into his arms. The elder fire wielder, who normally scoffs at this kind of display, melts into her lover's chest contentedly.

“Are you sure you're ready for this kind of commitment Dominic Hunter?” Sei releases her lover and gives him a demure, questioning look.

Both confused and still dizzy from the rush of adrenaline, Dom raises an inquisitive eyebrow at Sei. “Wait, commitment?”

“That was the aerial courtship dance of the winged serpent. It is performed when two fire wielders have selected their life long mates. Did you not know?” Sei's stoic, impatient gaze batters Dom as he fumbles for words while rubbing the side of his neck.

“Well I- I mean yeah I-” The blonde haired man is interrupted as Sei grabs the collar of his tunic abruptly.

“You talk too much, Dom. Shut up and kiss me.” She roughly pulls their faces together and the two share a long and passionate kiss as the air around them shimmers from the heat of the fire wielders’ embrace.

[taikoturtle]

Either "Bitch better have my money" or "Zero fucks given. Next please" for the five word prompts.

Pairing: Trimberly

“Bitch better have my money”

read it on AO3

Trini’s sneakers pound against the pavement as she scours the entire school grounds at the end of the day. Her eyes scan the passing areas acutely but fail to yield the results she’s seeking. Fingers fly across her phone’s screen as fast as her feet are carrying her across campus.

[Trini 2:44]

zack, you better b at school today

She checks his usual stomping grounds: the secluded utility shed near the football stadium, the bathrooms on the farthest outskirts near the chemistry labs, and the outside area at the back of the school. Each place is emptier than the last causing Trini’s scowl to deepen with every strike out.

[Trini 2:48]

this is really important where tf are you

Slowing to a stop near the flagpole out front, Trini sucks in gulps of fresh air to catch her breath. It’s quite possibly the worst day for their truant friend to be elusive, but Trini’s always had shitty luck so she can’t exactly blame him. After becoming a Power Ranger he has steadily upped his attendance, but the bar is set pretty low when you’re starting from completely absent all of the time.

Her phone buzzes and she whips it up to read whatever excuse he has cooked up for her.

[Zack 2:52]

was taking a dump. can’t a guy get a break?

[Trini 2:52]

you’re so gross why are we friends

[Zack 2:53]

you tell me crazy girl

Her lips crack into a smile before she shakes her head and remembers the urgency.

[Trini 2:53]are you at school today?

[Zack 2:54]

you’re lucky I was feeling studious today

[Trini 2:54]

studious my ass. fridays are pizza day at school

[Zack 2:54]

potato potato

[Trini 2:55]

what?

[Zack 2:55]

that was way less effective through text

[Trini 2:55]

whatever just come to the flagpole now and bring the money you owe me

[Zack 2:56]

sooo about that…

As soon as she reads his last text, Trini feels her blood pressure rising like a bubbling volcano. A couple of weeks ago she had lent him some cash to take a girl out on a date. Partly because it was satisfying to see him beg so desperately because he really liked this chick, but mainly because she was happy that he was happy. Honestly, she would have lent him the money regardless simply because he’s her friend, but the groveling really was a nice touch.

[Trini 2:57]

SOS

It’s their code for when shit is real, and now is the time to cash in on that debt because Trini has a date of her own—with none other than Kimberly Hart.  

Yes, the Kimberly Hart.

The very girl who she’s been pining for ever since they stumbled across the power coins on that fateful night that changed their lives forever. The very girl who she initially despised when she had first transferred because of ignorant stereotypes that shaped how Trini thought Kimberly was as a person without even getting to know her first.

The very girl who stole her heart after she realized just how wrong she was.

And one would think that when a girl tricks you and pulls you down off a seemingly bottomless cliff, the friendship would be over before it even started, but such was not the case with Kimberly. Maybe Trini’s just a glutton for punishment but something inside her that day compelled her to come back, and it certainly wasn’t Jason’s mildly rousing speech—all she knows for sure is that she fell into more than just that ravine.

Trini doesn’t do emotions very well. Anger maybe, sarcasm most definitely, but love? As far as she’s concerned, love is as foreign to her as advanced physics. She loves her family, but it’s a delicate and complicated love that’s riddled with frustrations, so navigating the complex feelings she harbors towards Kimberly is a treacherous endeavor to say the least.

But it’s worth it—it’s always worth it.

She’s always worth it.

Trini had finally mustered up the courage today, fueled by Billy and Jason’s supportive encouragement and inspiring pep talk, to ask Kimberly out on a date. It was the most nerve-wracking moment of her teenage life, standing so closely beside Kimberly as she unfolded the tiny note that Trini slipped into her locker that morning.

Passing notes is kind of their thing, so it only seemed fitting that she asked her to dinner with a note. She even tried to draw a picture of a pterodactyl and a sabre toothed tiger but Kimberly ruined the moment by asking why she scribbled a pigeon and a dog on the paper. Trini knows she’s no Michelangelo, but come on.

Despite Trini’s apparently poor fine arts skills, Kimberly beamed at her and breathed out a relieved “finally!” before pulling her into a warm, inviting hug. Kimberly always gives amazing hugs too, the kind where her arms wrap fully around Trini’s body, not too tight but just close enough to make her feel safe, to feel enveloped by affection.

They’re the kind of hugs you never want to end, but time waits for no one and the school bell rang so they had to go their separate ways. Trini still felt the lingering warmth from Kimberly and her body hummed with vibrating excitement, eager for the day to end so they can go on their date.

It wasn’t until her next class when Trini opened her wallet to determine where they would go later that night did her heart plummet into her stomach.

It was empty.

Sure, insisting to pay for the whole bill is an antiquated notion, but Trini doesn’t care—she wants to treat Kimberly on their first date, to really make her feel as special as she makes Trini feel, but how is she going to do that with no money whatsoever? There’s no way she’s going to have Kimberly pay for the entire dinner when the date was Trini’s idea to begin with.

Which is why Zack needs to get his ass over to the flagpole before she kicks it so hard he won’t have anything left to sit on.

“Bitch better have my money,” Trini mumbles under her breath as she crosses her arms, her foot tapping the ground impatiently.

Her phone buzzes again but before she can glance at its contents an arm slings around her shoulders out of the blue and startles her.

“Here you are!” Kimberly exclaims as she leans heavily into Trini with a broad smile on her face. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry, I had uh… stuff I had to do after school,” Trini replies vaguely with her gaze averted downward.

Trini feels Kimberly tense up, the air thick with silence before her voice tentatively asks, “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Yes!” The word blurts out louder than intended and a blush overtakes Trini’s chagrined expression.

“Oookay, cool. I was just checking,” Kimberly responds quietly. “I mean, if you’re having second thoughts or like, you don’t feel like going out tonight I totally understand. The last thing I want is for you to regret anything or force you into something you’re not ready for or–”

“Hey, no no, stop.” Trini turns swiftly to face Kimberly and shakes her head earnestly. “Believe me, I do want this–” her hands motion back and forth between them animatedly “–I had something I needed to take care of first before we leave, really.”

The tension in Kimberly’s thin expression releases as she exhales, the worry and anxiety leaving her body upon hearing her words. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous I guess.”

“Aw, I make you nervous?” Trini grins smugly which garners a playful slap on the arm from Kimberly. Her pocket buzzes again, but Trini disregards it in favor of paying attention to the situation at hand.

“Seriously though, I haven’t really put myself out there since the whole Ty Flemming thing and I just don’t want…” Kimberly pauses, her eyes shifting left and right, heavy with the pain of her past and searching for the right words to continue.

…to get hurt is what Trini thinks to herself, because behind all of the confidence and bravado, romance is still very much a sore point for Kimberly. She knows she’s made mistakes and if you ask her what compelled her to do it, even she has no idea, but the repercussions of her actions still echo to this day and they’re impossible to escape.

Trini throws her arms around Kimberly and pulls her back into a close embrace. Her hugs may not be as good as Kimberly’s, but damn it she can try. She’d hug away Kimberly’s ghosts if she could, but life doesn’t work that way and it’s never that simple, so Trini offers her truest self and hopes it’s enough to keep the demons at bay.

Smiling softly in the crook of Kimberly’s neck, Trini breathes out barely above a whisper.“For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool.”

A choked laugh escapes Kimberly’s lips and her grip around the smaller Ranger tightens. “Thanks.”

Trini ignores the questioning looks that the other students are conspicuously throwing their way because they don’t matter–nothing else matters right now besides the fact that Kimberly is in her arms and that they fit together as if it were meant to be and everything feels absolutely perfect.

“Trini!”

The moment ruined, Trini’s brow furrows upon hearing her name being shouted in the distance and both girls turn to seek the source of the noise.

Kimberly squints to get a better look and her mouth parts open slightly in confusion. “Is that… Zack?”

True to her observation, Zack is barrelling towards them at full speed from across campus like a charging bull, his arms furiously pumping at his side and long legs putting in work. If his attendance at school wasn’t so poor, Trini could picture him on the basketball team or track and field.

He closes the gap in an impressively short amount of time, coming to a halt several feet away. Doubled over with his hands on his thighs as he heaves in and out haggardly, Zack angles his head up and stares at Trini incredulously.

“This is your SOS?”

Sweat drips down the sides of his face and Trini nods seriously. “Yeah.”

Zack straightens up and lets out an exhausted laugh. “Oh this is great.”

“Dude, you can laugh about it later. Do you have it?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“What?!” Trini nearly shrieks and Kimberly flinches out of reflex, taken aback by her unusually loud outburst. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why’d you even run over here to begin with if you didn’t have my money?”

Zack shrugs casually with a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, “You stopped responding to my texts.”

“What money?” Kimberly inquires, her head tilting to the side curiously.

“Oh, Trini didn’t tell you?” Zack starts, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “She’s fresh out of cash, which I’m assuming she needed for whatever she’s doing tonight, which, by the looks of it, might be you–OW!”

Trini cuts him off with a swift punch to the chest mixed with a little Ranger strength for good measure.

Kimberly snorts humorously and looks at Trini. “Is this what was bothering you?”

Too ashamed from being exposed, Trini could only stare at the ground and nod her head dumbly.

“You’re adorable.” Kimberly links their hands together and gives her a little tug. “You don’t have to pay for me.”

“But I wanted to!” Trini protests with exasperation. “Besides, I asked you out on a date. That’s just messed up that you have to pay when I was the one who proposed it.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Kimberly says nonchalantly with a cheerful smile, “tonight’s on me.”

Zack smirks, “That’s not the only thing that’ll be on you tonight.”

Trini punches him again, her face as red as a tomato, as Kimberly’s bright laughter rings in the air.

[ninetytwotechnology-blog]

THE DESTINY OF AGILE SOFTWARE PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT

Software program penetrates every pore of human lifestyles. We appearance up the climate data over the internet, giving up on outdoor thermometers. We are using to destinations with gps navigator (overlook paper maps with their g7 sections on page fifty nine). We activate runkeeper when driving a motorbike to calculate the average speed and run and boast in twitter. We are using software program every single day of our lives. It seems we're hugging our expensive gadgets a lot greater than our cherished ones.

 Nobody knows the exact how-to of writing exquisite software program speedy, that's the hassle. Waterfall passed away on the crossing of two centuries, while new software program improvement methodologies (agile) fail at solving the essential troubles thus far. We are living in very interesting times. Software program development enterprise grows speedy proper here, right now, and the inspiration for a quantitative jump is constructing up.

 Now it is in reality clean that agile is turning into a mainstream methodology, and soon only some extinct mammoths will do waterfall. Agile has won the race. Microsoft is now working to improve agile method help in tfs, in addition they do iterative development for many of their merchandise. Ibm has released jazz agile platform. Evensap put into effect agile (i would love to take a sneak peek at this).

 See what wolfgang gattner, the cio of deutsche financial institution, says:

 We must get there. The conventional methods are not rapid enough, they're too complicated and that they do not floor the innovation. So that is very clean.

 Approximately every and each agency is at the least becoming privy to the fact that old-fashioned software program development is useless. They're seeking to trade the manner matters work and that they see agile because the first-rate feasible answer in the mean time. However right here comes a query: are agile upgrades precise for software development? They're proper. However are they proper enough? No. Agile is not solving all the issues. They launch crap again and again once more. Development pace still leaves a whole lot to be favored. Many software program answers fail, abound in insects and their bad exceptional is letting us down at first-class, truely, worst feasible times.

 Don't forget the current outage of amazon servers. Our server become down for about every week! Skype is failing over and over (in particular as received via microsoft). All and sundry should have been doing some shaman passes one way or another to make it paintings.

 IOS troubles are pretty common. My iPhone would not fall asleep mode after updates and would devour up the battery fee in only 8 hours, let alone unintended slips and calls. That turned into extraordinarily traumatic. They have been dragging with the restoration for nearly a month!

 DO RIGHT MATTERS

 Permit's take a more in-depth take a look at the three fundamental problems of software development. The ultimate purpose is — do right matters.

 What does it mean — right matters? Those are possible things, matters that clear up specific problems, and solve them well. Several thousand (!) Mission management gear are available on the market. How many of those are honestly good? 10? 20? Infrequently more than 20.

 Why these kind of terrible monsters with appalling interface have ever come to life? They torture each their users and their creators, and that they nonetheless cling in there. Why hundreds of primitive tools that do the same simple things and best range of their coloration, platform and login screen? I don't have any solution. But i recognise for certain: this world is inundated with useless software that stupidly replicates every different, drives human beings nuts with their UI and pretends to be the best.

 DO MATTERS PROPER

 This ranks 2nd. Do matters proper.

 If we do the right factor, the process is simplest half of-carried out. If we do the right thing in a wrong manner, we are able to now not entire our project. Yes, customers could be capable of remedy their troubles with our software, however randomly, in between system crashes.

 A poorly written software is incredibly ambiguous. It claims it's suitable and helpful, however a reality check reveals it's an vintage break, just like a terrible used vehicle in which engine oil likes to mingle with coolant; ac is jogging in winter most effective, the wipers – while there may be no rain only, and axle squeaks at eighty mph pace. Smart managers have completed a brilliant pre-income process with this spoil, and bought it in an immediately. Ac off? Nevermind, it is nevertheless good enough in iciness. Except, sixty five mph is the most velocity limit so a squeaking axle isn't a vital malicious program in any respect.

 A yr ago i attempted ommwriter, a minimalistic editor to method huge quantities of textual content. Relaxing song. Distraction-free writing. I appreciated the app and started out the usage of it.

 At some point i wrote a large article in one cross. About five pages. I have been saving it regularly and there has been no returned-up, of course. Subsequent day i got here to the workplace, opened my macbook and ommwriter hold joyfully. I killed the technique, restarted ommwriter and opened my record. It became empty. Have you ever ever had those moments, a flashing perception which you forgot to unplug the iron? So i were given chills going for walks down my backbone, felt my adrenaline raised and faced the deadly destiny. My arms shaking, i found the record in finder and checked its size — 0 bytes it was. That was the closing day i used ommwriter. The app that loses my statistics loses my trust. These days i purchased byword, a totally similar app. It really works faultlessly, and i am happy with it.

 Syncing badly written software to a brand new reality is very difficult, with all of the fees and time concerned.

 We wrote 92 Technology speedy, returned in old instances. As we labored after-hours and on week-ends, our important purpose turned into to check the concept, its viability. There were few unit checks. The structure turned into quite lame. О/r framework grew to become out to be a very bad preference. We didn't think about scalability and performance in any respect. But we did what we wanted: the product idea has established itself possible.

 Eventually we had to re-write the whole lot from scratch and it took eight months of labor full-time. That's how 92 Technology 2.0 emerged. Was it true, or became it terrible? On the only hand, we appeared to have misplaced 8 months. Then again, we examined the idea and made positive it works.

 SPEED

 We are smoothly proceeding to the 0.33 hassle — speed.

 Software program improvement fails to trap up with customers. As initiatives have become extra complicated, the velocity is losing. The rate thing gets ever so crucial for any company.

 If we create software fast, we get a threat to attempt numerous options, to music in to marketplace adjustments and to discover the proper manner quicker than others. With gradual paintings, there may be no second risk.

 There's a mythical vaporware inside the industry: duke nukem all the time.

 They started out it in 1996, and introduced the lengthy-awaited sequel in 2011. After numerous overlooked cut-off dates the improvement team held back on public estimates and just saved saying the sport would be launched whilst finished. Regretfully, duke nukem hasn't lived up to the expectations of game enthusiasts. Gamespot rated it at three.5. The sport appeared dull, unoriginal and out-dated.

 If we do the right product right, but slowly, we'd leave out out on market possibilities. What if we run late and there's a truth shift, and no person will need our product anymore?

 If we do the right product fast, but in a incorrect way, this means disposing of troubles till later. There can be handiest 2 alternatives: stitch fixes over fixes and bury the product in 10 years, or re-write it from scratch, that's luxurious.

 If we do the incorrect product proper and speedy, infrequently everybody will need it, except we come to recognize what's incorrect and make speedy modifications.

 COMMENTS

 Why are remarks crucial? Here is a nice tale:

 Whether we've carried out it right. We need to know this as early as viable. Preferably, right after it is completed. So how will we recognise?

 ANSWERS SKETCHING

 Sketches are a effective tool for requirements management. It is no longer best approximately drawings. Cartoon is a quick way to emulate the real gadget. Every so often it is sufficient to hand-draw a sketch. Every so often a complicated version needs to be designed.

 DISTRIBUTED GROUPS

 Globalization has been an all-time trouble for agile, with disbursed groups powered through www evolving. Some groups run offices in dozen countries, syncing the work of loads human beings. Due to the fact that agile at the beginning implied co-region, it is having difficult time with disbursed improvement. Seamless conversation and decreased remarks cycle are rarely feasible if product owner wakes up at nine am, and developers come to work at 4 pm.

 There's no easy approach to this hassle. First off, this is approximately extended density of conversation channels. Everlasting video connection works pleasant of all. A freshly unshaven outdoors will virtually inform how's it going and you will continually recognise if it is an excellent or horrific time to ask questions.

 Software for faraway pair programming, brainstorming and testing is arising as nicely. Gear along with 92 Technology are indispensable for dispensed teams.

 SUMMARY

 Software program improvement industry must hit the center, it is all approximately that. Discover ways to do right things rapid. I'm positive it's viable, and here's what wishes to be done:

 ·         Look at trouble-solving strategies, which includes triz, lateral thinking and

·         Systems questioning

·         Lessen remarks cycle with the aid of any approach

·         Look at area

·         Learn how to scale agile-mindset to the complete company and   distributed groups