#no shade but like interacting with material without reading the source material

[gaywineauntsstuff]

No listen there are exactly 4 flavors of dc fan

Fan 1; most canon content consumed in Wayne family adventures, lives in fanon stereotypes and tumblr reblogs, usually only reads fanfiction to get their content fix

Fan 2; has never looked at fanon content in their lives, has somehow managed to literally every comic book you’ve never heard of. Is violently pissed at the fladerization of their fave. (For some reason hates Jason Todd)

Fan 3; likes fanon and canon but they cannot touch. On. The. Plate. Good and separate like me when I have anything with mashed potatoes or sauce. Sure Dick can be a little naive in Fanon but if he needs help working a computer in canon they will riot or if people T h I n k their fanon is canon. (Low key also will ignore fanon they disagree with)

Fan 4; can’t tell the difference and/or substitutes the cooler one. Canon is a subway sandwich and Fanon are the excess toppings. They honest to god would not be able to tell you which idea they got from the comics vs Reddit vs a tumblr shit post. Sometimes fanon bleeds over and someone might read nothing butt nightwing and think it’s good who knows? (High key will ignore the canon they disagree with)

Anyway tag yourself

My love of fandom and its ability to recreate works completely .vs. my absolute hatred for most fandom Nightwing interpretations. FIGHT

[animehouse-moe]

Welcome To Demon School! Iruma-Kun Volume 1: The Misfits

It's been several years at this point since I stumbled across Iruma-Kun as an anime. Three seasons deep with all sorts of content and arcs, and a mountain of manga chapters and volumes I never thought I'd get in English. But it's here. Somehow, it's made it here and I'm endlessly excited about that. How does it measure up to the anime? How does the source material differ? What's the art style like? Is there any dropped content? How does the pacing compare? So, so many questions that I can finally answer.

The short of it though? People should absolutely be picking up this manga. It's friendly and welcoming for all ages without feeling too childish or mature, Kodansha's giving it a nice and quick release schedule, it's got 3 Seasons of anime to watch to see if you'll like it, and there's plenty of spinoffs that have a chance to make it over here if this release does well!

⚠️Warning: Spoilers Ahead⚠️

I think the most noticeable difference is in the art. To summarize it, Nishi's style in the manga is rather different to the anime. It's what you might call malleable. The proportions, lighting, even aspects of the core character design ebb and flow depending on the scene they're in. Line thickness and texture moves around, shading and color differs from character to character, and even chibi designs have wiggle room in how they're shown.

It's really interesting, because through these 4 panels, there's not really a stellar amount of visual similarity in how things are drawn. The shading on Iruma's (top left) clothes vs Kalego's (bottom right) is different, and Kalego's hair has shading and texture while Iruma's doesn't. Azz-Kun (bottom left) has heavy line weight while Sullivan (top right) is a far lighter line weight. It's incredibly curious, because I wouldn't say any of these pages bear much resemblance to one another in how they're drawn, but they're undeniably all from the same artist. It's a really great feat to provide so much consistent variance in art style for the series.

Alongside that, I must say I'm impressed with the paneling as well. You can get a really solid grasp of it from Iruma and Azz-Kun's pages above. There's a lot of variance and different approaches to similar content.

There's different perspectives, angles, and everything keep it all fresh and interesting, and the shapes of the panels are really commendable. It constantly refuses to use clear cut rectangles and squares, and tries its damnedest to put a creative spin on it. Even in pages like this one, all of the panels have an irregular side. At least one line in the rectangle is angled or cut off. It's such a simple thing, but it makes it such a more interesting read as you're not constantly looking at a bunch of plain squares.

Though, I guess I should take a break from the visual stuff, and talk about story, yeah?

I'm pretty surprised, there's a lot of great moments from the anime that were extrapolated from very minimal context or interaction, and even some that don't appear in the manga. Inconsequential pieces in terms of story, but really great work to expand on the nature and feel of the manga.

Saying that though, there's just as many moments that go shot for shot between the two, like Iruma and Azz-Kun's fight.

Or Iruma's entrance into the Misfit's classroom.

In addition to that, it's really cool to see how well planned this story is. Being a manga you get to soak up those pieces a lot better, and notice background details and things like that. Just take a look at this panel. Yes, Clara's in it, but there's somebody on the left side as well. Jazz makes an appearance here, and for good reason! Such a fun little detail, and just one example of many that exist within the manga that either didn't make it to the anime, or that I didn't notice in the anime.

Now, the elephant in the room: Lied. His early design is certainly something. I wouldn't say I hate it, but I also wouldn't deny that I vastly prefer his newer/current design a hundred times over. Basically the only design that sees noticeable change through the story, and for good reason. Also, Kerori in the background.

Also, I really just have to give it up for Nishi's art. You get a taste of it in the anime, but it feels so much stronger throughout this first volume of the manga. They like their perspective pieces, and they really like playing with heaver line weight to create tension and energy, and I'm all for it. It's a really fluid experience overall, and is great at selling readers on a more dynamic feel to the art and characters.

Pieces like this where the lines of the panels begin to warp and change, just such cool details that really show how pervasive Nishi's style is to the overall work, how when the style shifts, the whole perception of the sequence does.

I also feel like this spread is a really great example of why I like Nishi's character designs. They're all incredibly unique, and share very little to tie them to one another. All different outfits, proportions, and features. Clara's got a completely different style to Iruma, who's got a completely different style to Azz-Kun. It's a world of characters in a single story, and really never gets old.

And lastly, here's one of those perspective pieces I was talking about earlier. Nishi doesn't blindly use it to make for cool and more 3 dimensional panels or pages, but to convey something. A stretched out panel of Iruma fretting over being a human at a demon school, or in this case, a skewed perspective to sell the scale and grandeur of the Demon King. We're only at his feet, out of the entirety of his presence, Nishi is showing us where we're at in the story currently. It's a really great idea that just blends implicitly with "big Demon King is cool as hell".

So, at the end of this first volume, I'm thoroughly impressed with both the anime and the manga. The anime really grasps the material well and finds a way to heighten a lot of it, while the manga loses very little expression despite its relative handicap to the anime. Both are undeniably great, and both are certainly worth experiencing.

The energy remains apparent, the story is untouched and in its purest form, the art is all over the place in the best way, and the feel of Iruma-Kun is still so wonderfully strong. The silly nature that will have you breaking out in a laugh at the smallest things remains, and that warm feeling you get from the cuter moments is still there. It's still the same Iruma-Kun I know and love from the anime, and still places at the top of shounen manga that everybody should give a chance.

[finefiddleheaded]

I need to talk about something that's been itching at me for a while, that's starting to slowly strangle my enjoyment of being part of the DC fandom community.

Lately a trend in DC fandom developed where comics fans want to quantify what level of fan you ought to be to engage in fandom spaces. I understand the sentiment behind the complaints, but it's changing the atmosphere and making the community feel uncomfortable to be in. It's making me (a person relatively new to comics, who was initially drawn in by the sheer enthusiasm of comic fandom) participate less, and feel negatively when i do. I don't even fall into the category these posts are complaining about -- someone interacting with fandom without "engaging the source material."

But I still find myself going "have I read enough to make x?" and yall, it sucks. My first feeling when drawing for this fandom was joy and enthusiasm, now there's a shade of dread that's built up when I see comics posts come across my dash.

Like, yeah, many people approach it differently than how they do in other fandoms. But yall it's sort of a wild storytelling medium both structurally and culturally.

I mean, here is this storytelling format that shifts and ripples, layered by the touch of thousands and thousands of writers and artists across a significant span of time. Not only that, but editorial input, commercial viability, and socio-historical context have such a huge shaping influence on what is prioritized or dropped or changed completely. Reboots and soft and hard reimaginings blur character conceptualization even more.

And then you have to remember there's yet another dimension to this: consider the depth to which many of these characters are embedded into the pop conscious (speaking of USAmerican culture because that's where I'm from.) It would be wild to find someone on the street in the United States who doesn't know who Batman is. He's been interpreted so many ways across so many media by so many people over so many years, that Batman has in some way become a mythic figure akin to Robin Hood.

So that's the mindset I came in with. When I dipped my toe in, I hadn't really read any comics, though I had consumed media with many of these characters elsewhere. (I had often found that comics themselves weren't super accessible to me, as I have a hard time with processing the amount of text and image that is on each page, especially with older comics. The recent panning feature on comic reading apps has helped a lot though.) But, *dangit!* Fans were having so much fun, I couldn't help but come over and check out what they were doing.

And it was so cool! I found that everyone had a different interpretation! Everyone was right! And by virtue of the very landscape of it, everyone was wrong, too! My god DC doesn't even care about timelines. They're wrong all the time, sometimes wildly so. Much work and research as a reader is required to make things make sense in simple point A to point B fashion when you're reading a character beyond a single run.

I wanted to "do the work" of untangling character canon literally because of the love other people poured into things they made about these characters.

I read so many Tim Drake fanfics before I ever picked up a comic with him in it. It was so fun! Every single author had a different take on him! I read the things that sounded fun to me, ignored the things that didn't. I learned how to allow my understanding of who Tim Drake is to become malleable and flexible, and honestly? That's been so fun? Malleable and flexible is exactly how even the comics writers themselves treat the characters they're working with. There is no immutable canon with DC comics characters, that's part of what's so fun and different and interesting about this fandom in comparison to other fandom spaces I've been in.

So I've been very happy over the last couple years, being here.

But. There's a point where the occasional "when people do x it bothers me personally" in a fandom community starts to snowball into "people who do x are wrong or don't belong here." I've been around long enough to see it happen over and over again, it sucks. It can even become legitimately dangerous if the snowball gains enough momentum.

Anyway, I'm not leaving the DC fandom at the moment. It still brings me so much joy! But I'm taking a deliberate and mentally protective step back from portions of the community where I keep coming across an increasing amount of hostility and gatekeeping.

[sugaxjpg]

ghosts just wanna have fun; m

⤷  When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Psychic!AU & MedSchool!AU

✓ Filed under: fluff, crack (so many ghost puns), light smut (and jungkook being a nervous virgin) 

✓ Words: 20,062

Author’s Note: In which Jungkook is able to see spirits, but it’s just Taehyung and Yoongi giving him dating tips because he sucks at talking to girls. Hope you guys like it, because it has been on my WIPS for over a year and a half and I can’t believe it’s finally out there... emotional, really.

Also, huge thanks to @storytaeme​, who proof-read this mess like a champ. 

 There aren’t many embarrassing situations that can overcome the fact that Jeon Jungkook found out about his psychic abilities as he was about to lose his virginity. 

To say the least, that hadn’t been the most pleasant of scenarios to open the pathway to the afterlife. Really, there was no casual way that he could justify the scream that broke from his lips, or the dramatic spin he took as he turned around on the bed — which, ultimately, had him falling into the small space between the nightstand and the wall, with his legs up in the air, and his butthole fully exposed for both planes of existence to see. 

Still, that hadn’t been the worst part. If those two pallid silhouettes had merely disappeared once he had seen them, it wouldn’t have been as traumatic — perhaps Jungkook could have found a semi-believable excuse about what he had witnessed — but no. Not only did the ghosts remain there, with their arms crossed before their achromatic clothes and eyebrows slightly raised in expectation, they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. 

“Oh, he was definitely going to put it in the wrong hole,” the shorter of the two murmured, clearly entertained at the idea. 

The other scoffed. “What if he did?” he threw back. “Maybe he likes that, we can’t judge.”

Truth was that, one way or another, Jungkook couldn’t even figure out what he liked — he didn’t even get the chance. He was gone from his (ex) girlfriend’s place before his brain could even attempt to construct a plausible explanation, even less to digest what had preceded that unfortunate revelation. Now, the wrong hole would forever be a source of trauma for him. 

And the problems didn’t exactly stop there. Ever since his cherry-popping session was interrupted, Jungkook hadn’t been able to move further than the first base, thinking that he would embarrass himself all over again or, worse, be frightened by a random demon passing by. Also, the constant mockery of his ghostly counterparts certainly didn’t help his concentration. 

The worst part? Helping Jungkook was kind of their whole point. And they couldn’t even do that right. 

Taehyung and Yoongi were their names — they told him right after the first night he saw them. Jungkook didn’t know what had happened in the afterlife that they had been punished with such a horrendous mission and, frankly, at that point, he was too afraid to ask. 

“But I don’t need your help,” Jungkook had said after one particularly bad date, dramatically throwing himself onto his bed. The furniture creaked under his weight and he wondered if it would snap before his mind did. “I just want you to leave me alone or, I don’t know, help me with something else — something useful.”

The two ghosts were by his desk, looking at his class notes and, at that comment, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Useful? Like what?” He asked. 

“I don’t know, solving crimes or something,” Jungkook mumbled, turning around so he would face the wall. God, he just needed two seconds alone. 

Behind him, Taehyung laughed. “You don’t even know how to open a bra, and you're out there thinking of reopening cold cases? Give me a break.” 

“Ouch,” Jungkook whispered. Maybe another time, it would’ve hurt his pride a bit more. That night, however, he was too tired to care. “For your information, I do know how to open a bra. You two just started whispering and it distracted me.” 

“We were whispering to you the instructions on how to open a bra,” Yoongi responded. “Would you need those if you knew what you were doing? No.” 

Jungkook sighed. “I just—”

“This conversation is done, we went over this already.” Yoongi interrupted. “You need us, whether you want it or not. You’re painfully bad at romance, Jungkook, even worse at initiating sex. I’ve never seen something like that before.” 

At that, Jungkook rolled on the bed and faced them. There was only one light in his bedroom that was on — the table lamp — and its clear orange shade passed through them both in an odd mixture of contours and lines. “Maybe if I could do it myself, without you two buzzing around the place, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he responded, aggressive. 

“Calm down. You were already bad enough when we arrived,” Taehyung told him, leaning over to see all the scattered pages on his desk. He frowned once he saw something he couldn’t quite understand, and quickly turned away from it. “Nothing changed much.” 

“Right!” Jungkook sat up on the bed. “Isn’t that enough of a sign for you two to stop trying to help me, then?” 

“No,” Yoongi said calmly. “That’s a sign that we have to try harder. And so do you.” 

He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.” 

“Yes, you absolutely do,” he said. “You know what? Grab your phone and get yourself a date with that girl you like from physiology class. Two weeks from now.” 

There was a second of silence as Jungkook’s mind struggled to piece the idea together. He wasn’t even sure about who Yoongi was referring to, there were a lot of girls in his class. “What? Why?” 

“Just trust us. She’s into you,” Yoongi spoke. 

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’ll work out.” 

Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?” 

“This time, it will,” Taehyung said. “Really. Do it.” 

“Fine.” He breathed out, reaching for his phone. “What girl?” 

Yoongi looked him up and down. “You know what girl.” 

With a deep breath, Jungkook scrolled over his contact list, struggling to find someone that he would have even the slightest chance with. Truth was, he has no fucking clue of which one of the hundred and fifty people in his class would even look in his direction, much less go on a date with him. 

“You do know… right?” Taehyung asked, clearly worried. “We can’t really give you names, but you… know, right?” 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure I do!” Jungkook laughed nervously, clicking on a random name and opening a chat. “Here, I’m sending her a text right now. No reason to worry… no reason at all.” 

“Good,” Yoongi said, distracted. “Now, if you need us, we’ll be watching Gone Girl with your neighbors. We already missed the start of the movie, and I’m pissed off as it is.”

Taehyung nodded. “Amazing movie,” he said. Jungkook pressed send and prayed for the best. “We should have more movie nights over here.” 

 Yoongi said something in agreement and, in a second, they were already gone. Jungkook was left alone in his bedroom, with the light of his lamp casting over his features the desperation that he was feeling inside. 

“This better work,” he mumbled to himself. “You two better not be trying to embarass me.”

_____________

And then, two weeks later, Yoongi and Taehyung were laughing at him as his last failed attempt at romance got up from her chair and basically ran away from him.

Yoongi leaned back against the chair, his ankles crossed over the large table. If someone else could see him then, he surely would have received a few complaints about keeping the mall under semi-sanitary conditions. “Jungkook, I’ll tell you something,” he started, clearly amused. “You’re so bad at romance that I wish I was alive just so I could punch some reason into you.”

Taehyung, who had stayed mostly quiet during the painfully awkward interaction, walked beside Jungkook and chuckled at his distress. Still, he was focused on the other ghost, and the implication of his speech. “That amount of violence is the exact reason why you’re no longer alive, Yoongi,” he pointed out, then turned to Jungkook before he could smirk at the reprehension. “But really, that was awful. If I weren’t spiritually tied to you, I would’ve given up by now. You’re hopeless.”

“Completely out of it,” Yoongi added. “Do you even know how women work?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and reached for his phone: there was no way he would enter a discussion with those invisible pricks in a public situation without something to mask it. Not that it would have been the first time.  

Yoongi materialized on the seat next to Jungkook, his head leaning against his hand. The boy was already used to those sudden changes of position, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. In fact, after Taehyung had appeared next to him during a particularly bad time — in which the incognito tab had already been opened, and a bottle of lotion already waited for him — he could never erase the intense panic of such experiences. 

But of course, Yoongi knew that, and he used his discomfort for his own entertainment. “You can’t ignore us, kiddo,” he said slowly, clearly amused. “And you can’t ignore the fact that you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats, if you don’t start listening to what we have to say. We have been tied to you for a reason.”

“And the reason,” Taehyung added, “is to make you stop cockblocking yourself.” 

With a subdued groan, Jungkook pressed his phone against his ear — an old trick that allowed for him to have a conversation without being seen as clinically insane by passersby. “You two are the reason why this date went downhill,” he told them. “You told me to say all the wrong things. You two set this up knowing I’d fail.” 

“Oh, no.” Taehyung shook his head in disagreement. “The words were right. Your delivery was awful.” 

“Western-movie-awful,” Yoongi added. “And if you want to change that, you have to trust us.” 

“Trust you? Where has that taken me?” Jungkook questioned, irritated. “You’re the reason why I lost my first girlfriend and haven’t had another one ever since.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “The girl from the first night? She never talked to you again after that, did she?” He asked, but, of course, he already knew the answer. “Damn, that was cringe-worthy. Butt in the air and everything.”

“No need to remind me, I was there.” Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to control his demeanor. It wasn’t fair that there was not much that he could do to make the two men shut up — since they were, quite literally, already dead, he didn’t have many threats to utter. “And whose fault was that?” 

“Technically, yours.” Taehyung shrugged. “We didn’t present ourselves to you, you just saw us all of a sudden. We were just as surprised.”

“Besides, you were the one that had the B.F.,” Yoongi added. 

Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”

“Bitch fit,” Taehyung elucidated. “He watched White Chicks with your neighbors last night, don’t worry about it.” 

Jungkook groaned, pressing his hand against his face. Of course — the cherry on top would be outdated pop references, as expected. Yoongi had always been quite fond of the classic ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, and Jungkook thought that the overuse of that quote would be the ultmost reason for his insanity. Nevertheless, he came to understand that it was nothing compared to movies like White Chicks or even Legally Blonde. He would rather hear Uncle Ben’s famous line a billion times over before Yoongi accused him of having a B.F. once more. 

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the environment around him. The murmurs and disembodied conversations around the mall had morphed into the sound of irritating insects, and he felt as if the earth could just open up and eat him alive. He probably committed a terrible crime in a past life to be stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum like that. 

“Anyways,” Jungkook stressed, “it didn’t seem like the two of you were surprised that I could see you. You just kept… talking about me. And my ass.”

Taehyung chuckled. “You were the one with the ass up in the air.” He vanished, then materialized in the seat in front of Jungkook. “What were we supposed to do? Ignore it?” 

“It was an easy target,” Yoongi spoke, then seemed to realize the words that had left his mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean the double interpretation.” 

“Why can’t the two of you just fucking help me for once?” Jungkook asked aggressively. In a nearby table, one old man raised his eyes from his vegan burger and stared the boy up and down in disapproval. Jungkook lowered his voice and switched his phone to the other ear. “This is unbearable. You two are only making it worse.” 

With a gesture that Jungkook knew all too well, Taehyung used his thumb to point over his shoulder, towards the path that his failed date had followed. “That one wasn’t good enough for you,” he said nonchalantly. “We can tell. We know stuff.” 

“Then why did you set this up in the first place?” He asked, exasperated. 

“As DJ Khaled says, you played yourself,” Yoongi cited. One more reference and Jungkook would be the one joining the world of the dead. “It’s not our fault that you get nervous and can’t deliver the lines right. When have the two of us ever failed?”

“When you died,” he spoke back. “Or did you forget the stupid mistake you made?”

Yoongi hesitated. As much as he tried to play it cool, he wasn’t the smartest one around. In fact, his tragically premature death was all the evidence Jungkook needed to make his point clear. 

During his living days, Yoongi was pretty invested in rock climbing. On a beautiful summer afternoon, just as the sun was setting over the green-bathed hills, one of his friends dared him to bungee jump from the same cliff they had just climbed, and were standing on. Of course, the man agreed promptly, saying that he wouldn’t back out from such a mundane task; stating repeatedly that the fall wouldn’t be so high up anyway. But that wasn’t the turning point: Min Yoongi, in all his adventurousness, quickly decided that his local shop was too expensive and that he would create his own bungee jump cord instead. 

According to him, making the cord proved itself to be quite an easy task. He had gotten some help from his local adrenaline addicts and the final product was a very good copy of the factory-made ones. He measured the cliff twice just to be certain, compared it to the rope, and made sure to test the sustentation and elasticity as many times as he could. 

Still, Yoongi had overlooked an imperative detail: he shouldn’t use a cord that was the same height as the cliff he was jumping from. 

Needless to say, he only realized his mistake once he was already dead. 

Yoongi scoffed at the memory, ignoring his hurt pride. He swore he could still feel his back hurting when he thought about that. “That isn’t the point,” he said. He often did that: changed the subject once he realized he couldn’t leave with the upper hand. “The point is that you keep delivering lines like you’re a bad boy in a South American novela, then expect us to perform a miracle on you.” 

Jungkook frowned, lowering his head. “That’s actually so wrong.” 

But the problem was: Yoongi was right, and Jungkook knew it. In fact, that had been the exact reason why his date had left him that night — the boy had misunderstood Taehyung’s advice to play off as a mysterious man, and instead projected his image somewhere between a psychopath and a person that had only K-dramas as a basis of how human interactions were supposed to work. Jungkook missed his attempts at romance the entire time, but the breaking point was when Yoongi told him to act as a bad influence because, according to him, girls dig a good bad boy. 

Once again, Yoongi wasn’t the brightest mind when it came to risk-taking. That was why he was more dead than Jungkook’s bedroom. 

Jungkook, however, did not realize his own errors until it was too late. He had chuckled at his date’s embarrassment, using his opening to delicately place her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to tell you something,” he started, voice swift and placid as a river. With his eyebrows raised and his lips vaguely forming a pout, he looked like an off-brand version of Handsome Squidward. “I’m not really a good influence, and surely not the kind of guy you’d like to get with. So why don’t you do me a favor and follow the simple orders I give you, uh?”

Her eyes had widened in a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and fear. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook saw her reaching for her purse over the table. “No, thank you,” she was quick to say. “I don’t think this will work, sorry. I’ll see you around college.” 

And that’s how they ended at that point. The point they always seemed to end up in. 

“I think I need a break from all of this,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. “I have a huge test next week and I couldn’t even study for it because of all the preparation for this stupid date. Can you two just take a step back? Just for a little while. Romance can’t be all that I think about.”

As he opened his eyes, he saw Taehyung staring at him. He couldn’t really read his expression. 

And, without an answer, the two of them vanished. 

_________________

If someone asked Jungkook why the hell he thought going to medical school was a good idea, he’d simply say that, at the time, it made sense. After all, he had thought, he’d be some sort of super-doctor, since he had an exclusive VIP pass to the afterlife — just imagine how many people he would be able to help just by asking a friendly ghost what was wrong with a patient. It would be a game-changer. He could even find the cure of cancer if he tried hard enough. 

But of course, he quickly realized that he should’ve thought further about his decision. Maybe being a detective would have made much more sense — it would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure, and he wouldn’t have to sit through almost twelve hours of classes every single day for a diploma that seemed to be too far away for him to care. 

That particular class, however, wasn’t the worst one out there. 

It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant Pathology. Jungkook loved that class because the professor hated teaching it, so the students had to sit in silence for about three hours trying to read the textbook by themselves. The professor said he would be there to answer any questions, but he was mostly scrolling through his phone and interrupting students every time they tried to ask him something — “That’s in the textbook, just keep reading.”  

Most of his classmates absolutely despised that subject, but Jungkook thought it was wonderful: he often learned better by himself anyways, and the lack of conversation during class brought him some sense of peace. Besides, Yoongi and Taehyung hated sitting in that quiet room for too long, so they mostly left after ten or twenty minutes of trying — and failing — to strike up a conversation with Jungkook. It was the perfect day.

Well, most days it was. 

Just as he was about to move forward to the next topic — Adrenal Insufficiency and Addison’s Disease — , the boy felt something poking his bicep and he was quick to turn to his side. Instantly, he recognized your expectant gaze and something fluttered inside his stomach. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning over your desk, “is tomorrow afternoon still up? I really need help in cardiac physiology. I kind of suck.”

He hummed in agreement, fighting against the nervousness that crept up on him. Jungkook’s palms started to sweat just by looking at you, he really was one step away from reverting back to his pre-teen days. “For sure. I’ll be at yours at five,” he managed to get out. 

“Thank you so much,” you said, then moved back against your seat. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. If it had been anyone else, Jungkook would’ve had a stroke by then — after all, he wasn’t always invited to a girl’s place so easily. That’s someone that I have absolutely no chance with, he thought. So friendzoning himself made everything much easier. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up at the library?” 

“I can’t really concentrate there,” you answered. “But if you prefer, we could go.” 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Your place is fine.” 

You smiled again, and Jungkook thought that maybe being shot wouldn’t hurt so much. “Thanks. See you at five.” 

Jungkook nodded and turned around, facing his laptop. Just as he was about to restart typing his notes, he saw a known reflection at the corner of his computer. Oh, God, have mercy.

Yoongi’s reflection smirked from the back row. “Oh, man, she’s so into you.”

 Jungkook shook his head in denial, eyes still glued to the PDF file in front of him. If anything, his classmates would have just guessed he was finding that subject more difficult than usual and, quite frankly, no one could judge him. 

“No?” Yoongi raised one eyebrow, reappearing by his side with his hand supporting his cheek. Jungkook didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was just looooving the discomfort that grew inside his limbs. “I know those things, kiddo. It’s my job.”

From the front seat, Taehyung hummed in agreement. He had his arm placed over the chair, and seemed to find that entire situation a bit boring — maybe because he had seen it countless times before. “She definitely wants to get some of that,” he said. “We are proud of you, son.” 

With a subdued sigh, Jungkook scribbled some aggressive words at the corner of his notebook, and showed it to the man by his side. “Look at this, Taehyung, he’s trying to convince us that they’re just friends,” Yoongi mocked, crossing his arms. “That’s cute. Just because you’re that oblivious, it doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Jungkook, we’ve been watching the two of you talk the entire semester,” Taehyung added. “Besides, Yoongi made me follow her around once. She’s definitely into you. In unholy ways.”

Yoongi nodded once again. “She wants to be your boo.”

“Was that a fucking ghost pun?” Taehyung’s nose cringed up in disgust, and Jungkook had to fight back the reflex of laughing at his reaction. “Awful.”

“At least I’m not the one who ghostwrote Jungkook’s ethics essay.” Yoongi threw back. “Yeah, and that was another pun. You’ve got no spirit.” 

“You know what? Now I know why Jungkook can’t stand us anymore.” Taehyung smirked and, then and there, Jungkook knew exactly what was coming. “He can see right through us.”

The other ghost nodded. “Yeah, we’ve reached a dead end.” 

Jungkook groaned in exasperation, hiding his face behind his hands. “This is torture.”

Next to him, you chuckled. “Come on, pathology isn’t even that bad. You’re good at this.” 

“I know, I’m just tired.” He turned around to look at you, uttering the same excuse he had been using this entire semester. Not that it was an uncommon one, especially in the fifth circle of hell that was medical school. “I think I need to splash some cold water on my face. Wake myself up.”

You hesitated, staring at him as he stood up.  Jungkook looked strangely pale, like he was about to throw up all over the classroom. “Is everything okay?”

Fantastic! My bachelor ghosts are just making me have a nervous breakdown. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He said, almost stumbling over your chair. Some of your pens fell down, but Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to get them. He’d probably just knock everything else over in the process, and he wasn’t even sure that he could stand back up after. “Shit— Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Behind him, Yoongi chuckled. “Spook-tacular skills, as always.”

_____________

The sound of running water was all that entered Jungkook’s mind for a moment, his face feeling the coldness of the liquid as he splashed himself once, twice, trying to clear his thoughts. In the end, it was mostly in vain: his class was ruined, his notes were left unfinished, and he couldn’t get a second of tranquility anymore — not even in Pathology. If he weren’t canonized after his death, he would file a complaint for sure. 

Abruptly, he closed off the faucet and the water stopped running. There was a heavenly instant of quietness, in which Jungkook followed the crystalline droplets falling from his hair to the sink, before Yoongi’s voice echoed behind him. “How you doin’, champ?” 

Jungkook sighed and raised his head, looking at his ghost counterpart through the dirty mirror. “Is the bathroom empty?” he asked calmly. 

“Hm? Yeah,” Yoongi said. “The ghost is clear.”

Just like that, his serenity was gone. “Yoongi, can you fucking stop? Your puns stopped being funny after the third attempt,” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He pulled some paper towels, and got even angrier at the way they fell apart in his hands. Good to know his college money was being used wisely. “Jesus. Where is Taehyung?”

“You know he hates toilet paper,” Yoongi told him. “Reminds him of his death.”

Jungkook considered the compelling idea of banging his head against the bathroom wall until he, himself, was part of the world of the dead. As he recalled very well, Taehyung had been a victim of Final-Destination-levels of misfortune: just because he had forgotten to take toilet paper to his camping trip, the boy had been forced to use nearby leaves. Those, as he would soon come to understand, caused an awful allergy on his lower lands, and the punctual bleeding was a sufficient opening for opportunistic diseases. The culprit? Some super strange bacteria that floated around the river. He was dead less than twenty hours after he came back home from septic shock.  

Taehyung had endured, quite frankly, one shitty death. And, yes, Yoongi had made that joke a few too many times before. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook realized. “What did I tell you two about chit-chatting with me in large public places? Especially my classes? I have to pay attention. And I have a test in two days, I need to be all here, and not thinking about other people.” 

Yoongi giggled — almost childishly so — at the other’s anguished attitude. His teeth, a pallid shade of white, could barely be seen against the olive-green tiles that covered the bathroom walls. “You weren’t paying attention to the processes of intestinal inflammation, that’s for sure,” he teased, forcing himself to hold back his jokes a bit. 

“I wasn’t even studying that chapter,” Jungkook mumbled. 

Even Yoongi, who had a dense personality for such a diaphanous soul, could tell that the student was not in the mood for mockery. “Man, why are you so stuck-up? Taehyung and I are ghosts, but you’re the one with the dead sense of humor.”

Jungkook realized he needed a moment to think before he started yelling at nothing in a public bathroom. He really hoped the other stalls were empty, but he couldn’t be bothered to check. 

“This isn’t about the puns. You two just don’t respect my privacy,” Jungkook said. This time, he was able to pull some good paper towels and proceeded to dry his face. “This has been going on for too long. Why don’t you two just vanish for some time?”

“Wish I could, kiddo, but I’ve got hours to clock,” Yoongi finally admitted. From the mirror, he could see the frown of confusion that was cast over Jungkook’s features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m only following rules. Talk to the big guy upstairs if you want to complain.”

He threw the paper on the trash and shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t see the point of any of this.” 

“You don’t have to.” Yoongi took a step closer. He often looked so unbothered — the two of them, actually — that Jungkook caught himself wondering which certainties they held, notions that would most likely be given after death. “Just do what we tell you to do.”

“That has only embarrassed me so far,” he said, turning around. “I don’t think I have it in me to trust in you two one more time. It has gotten me nowhere. Or, rather, nowhere good.”  

Yoongi sighed. “Alright, let’s do it like this, then: You go and help Y/N with her cardio whatever stuff, and Taehyung and I just watch. We promise to shut up, unless you’re doing something seriously embarrassing. Other than that, absolute silence.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You promise you two won’t tell me what to say?”

“Promise.” Yoongi nodded. He looked very sincere. “We won’t talk to you.” 

“I can live with that, yeah,” Jungkook agreed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect.” He smiled. “Trust me, Jungkook. I only made one mistake in my life.”

Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”

“Not the point.” He raised one finger, clearly annoyed, then pointed it at Jungkook. “You’ll do great. It’s not like you’re gonna tell her about us or something.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.” 

________________

But that was, ultimately, what he did.

To be fair, it was never Jungkook’s intention. He was completely sure that it would ruin not only his friendship with you, as it would also ruin his reputation, both as a student and as a future physician. Come on, how would he even explain that? How could he tell anyone that he not only saw two obnoxious ghosts, but that they were there to give him romantic (and sometimes sexual) advice? That’s insanity. 

Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well. 

In the cosmic perspective, however, it was kind of Yoongi’s fault too. He had the problem of giving away too much sometimes, especially when he was alone and free from Taehyung’s scrutiny. And it was that extra bit of information that catalyzed the explosion that would become Jungkook’s confession. 

For some reason or another, Taehyung hadn’t joined the two of them that day, as Jungkook crossed the campus towards your place. For the first time in a long time, their conversation — which was, again, masked by Jungkook pretending to be on the phone — was actually quite pleasant. Yoongi had told him a bit more about his life back in the day and explained that he was studying to become a lawyer when he died. 

“I was thinking of dropping out anyways,” he said. “I just picked a random thing to study because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And, well, I kind of did drop off. Just not from the course.” 

Jungkook could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. Sad coincidences aside, it was unusual for Yoongi to make jokes about his death. Taehyung was much more open about it, but Yoongi seemed to be very bitter because of the way and the time he passed. But of course, who was Jungkook to judge? 

“You know,” Yoongi started after a moment of quietude. “Taehyung and I were pretty surprised that day at the mall.”

Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?” 

The other man chuckled. “Honestly? Because you’re dumber than we thought.”

Seems like pleasant times didn’t last much between the two of them. “We’ve established that I can’t talk to girls, Yoongi, I know.” Jungkook really wanted to change the subject. 

“No, not that,” he denied. “Let’s go back a little. Remember what we told you in your bedroom that night? To get the physiology girl.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi laughed, amazed that Jungkook still didn’t get it. “You called the wrong one, idiot,” he explained. 

“What?” Jungkook paused in his tracks and, in a mindless reflex, forgot he was supposed to be talking on the phone, and looked directly at Yoongi, lowering the device away from his ear. “There is a right one?” 

“Hey, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yoongi pointed at a couple that also stopped, confused at the man’s actions. Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure after that minor instant of public humiliation, and placed the phone back against his ear. “Let’s keep walking.”

With his heart beating insanely fast against his chest, Jungkook did as he was told. His mind was flooded with fragmented thoughts, working around words that seemed so simple, yet held so much.

“Yes, there is a right one — and you’re going towards her right now.” Yoongi responded, placing his ghostly hands inside his ghostly pockets. Jungkook never noticed that he still used the clothes that he had on when he died, but Yoongi wouldn’t be the first one to mention. “So don’t make a fool out of yourself. Not this time.” 

Jungkook swallowed dry, feeling as panic started to climb up his lower limbs, weighing down on his muscles. His throat was dry as a desert and forming sentences proved to be a far more difficult task than he had anticipated. The air around campus had suddenly become hot for an autumn day, unable to enter his lungs with ease. He really was two steps away from a full-blown anxiety attack. 

Yoongi frowned. “You good?” 

Jungkook licked his lips, only half aware of his actions. “Y-Yeah,” he struggled to get out. “Just kind of a bomb that you just dropped on me, that’s all.” 

Yoongi nodded, uninterested. “Yeah. Get over it. It’s not a huge deal.” 

Only, it was. For Jungkook, at least. What if you two were… you know? Meant to be? Like the soulmates kind of thing; star-crossed lovers. Like in the “we got married after two months of dating and we are still together after sixty years” kind of insane love? That was a lot to process, a lot to think about, especially when he was having like three different crises at once. It was a recipe for a disaster. 

Jungkook really was dumb when it came to anything besides his textbooks, but not for jumping into those conclusions. Frankly, most people would’ve been a bit overwhelmed by that. 

No, his problem would reside on his next thought: If you two were meant to be, you would understand if, for some reason, he had to tell you about his ghosts, right? 

Right?

_______________

To be fair with Yoongi, he did keep his promise. The two didn’t interrupt your conversation once, even if sometimes the moment begged for it, and Jungkook was two words away from ruining everything. Strangely enough, things seemed to work themselves out — the horrible jokes that Jungkook uttered seemed to suit your sense of humor; the shy and nervous demeanor that plagued his dates slowly melted away. It was good — in fact, it was the best talk he’s had with someone in a long, long time. 

The issue was that, as much as the two of them didn’t talk directly to Jungkook, they still talked. 

“What was that thing that she said, you know, to her friends?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming out as a vague connection of syllables being formed at the corner of his mouth. He had his arms crossed, and his legs pushed up on the couch. “You told me that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung took a moment to think. He had one of his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his white pants, and the other on the back of the couch. The two of them watched the conversation that unfolded above your living room table, the two of you trying to make sense of a subject that seemed to change every five minutes. “It was like ‘homeboy can like, get it’... or something.” 

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.” 

Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to ignore that comment. It wasn’t news that you were interested in him — that had been the only thing Yoongi and Taehyung had told him for the past few hours, but it was very, very awkward to know those specific details. He was sure he wouldn’t like you to know the private conversations that he had with his friends, even less about the things he thought about when he was alone. There was something extremely violating about that, but, no matter how hard he tried to convince them, the two ghosts didn’t seem to care enough to stop. 

The giggle that came from across the table ruptured his thoughts. “Why are you blushing?” You asked.

“I’m… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Wonderful. Even when he was just thinking about something, he still managed to make a fool of himself. “Just… thinking about some embarrassing things I did in third grade. The usual.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” You smiled, reaching for the textbook across the table, and flipping through the pages. “I ruined this entire science project once. It was something about the pollination of flowers, but I missed that class. Ended up coming back to a lot of roses around the classroom, and decided to take a few of them home to my mom.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at him. Jungkook thought that he had lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a depth so engulfing that he couldn’t find the right words once he stared at it. He had never noticed how beautiful you were — or, rather, he had, but he had never stopped to think about it — and, now, it seemed as if that was the only thing that he could focus on. “Everyone in class was super pissed, the teacher even tried to suspend me.”

He shook his head, trying to imagine a mini-you justifying your flower thievery in front of the principal. “That’s insane, actually.”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, looking back at the book. You weren’t sure what you were searching for anymore, so you decided to close it. You two had been studying for almost four hours straight, you didn’t think that your brain could handle any more of that. “They didn’t really believe me when I told them it was a mistake. Guess no one even noticed my absence the day before, which is… somehow… even worse, now that I think about it.” 

A giggle reverberated in your throat as you dove into those forgotten memories, and Jungkook followed you. 

“Don’t laugh at child me, that’s so cruel.” You smiled. 

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I just thought you were cute. Still are, you never really stopped being cute, I mean. You’re actually really pretty now, like a woman—” 

“I got it.” You placed your hands over his, and the shock of your skin against his seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t know if that was a soulmate thing of if he was just really horny. Probably a bit of both. “Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute too. Like a man.”  

“Thanks.” Jungkook itched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to build his sentence. Panic began bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, sinking its teeth into his flesh as his words left his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” 

It was the right time now: the studying was over, the conversation was flowing, you had told him that you thought he was cute — like a man. Now, he just needed to ask you out. Just that. That’s it. Three words. He had practiced: Wanna go out? That’s it. So casual. So playboy-esque. He could do it. No pressure. If you were the one, he didn’t have much to get wrong. 

But, oh my god, what if he got everything wrong? I mean, how many stories are out there of couples who were destined for each other, but something happened and it pulled them apart forever? The wrong time, the wrong place — the wrong words. Jungkook wasn’t psychologically prepared to ruin something so huge with a moment so small. He needed to calm down and focus. Just get the words out. Everything would sort itself out after that. He had faith. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Jungkook cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the touch of your hand against his. Outside, birds were chirping, unaware of the absolute shitstorm that was about to ensue. “So…” he started, “I was thinking that maybe I could— I mean, you — I mean we could...”

You tilted your head to the side, confused. “Sorry, what was that?” 

He blinked once, twice, fighting against the wave of sheer terror that had taken over his brain, whitening out his thoughts. He had the sentence ready, but he had forgotten how to form it. “I’m just trying… I’m just trying here to just…” He swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering if you would like to… I mean, if it’s not a problem—”

From the other side of the room, Yoongi groaned. “Just do it! You’re making eternity so much longer.”

And that’s when it happened. 

Jungkook turned around and yelled: “You told me you wouldn’t talk, you asshole!”

The entire room froze. A horrible moment of bewildered reticence followed as  the realization crashed upon him like a gigantic wave. He couldn’t have just yelled at nothing in front of you, like an absolute madman, could he? 

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand away from his. The lack of warmth was like a dagger being thrown directly into his heart. “Excuse me?”

Yep. He totally did that. 

“Not you!” He was quick to turn around — maybe a bit too quick, too intensely. Even with nervousness clouding his vision, Jungkook could still see the shadow of fear and confusion mingling amongst your features. He had ruined everything, and that was all that he could think about. “I’m just... personalizing my anxiety...”

“Are you... alright?” You spoke slowly, measuring his actions. Jungkook had changed from cute-nervous to absolutely-unhinged-nervous; eyes widened and jaw clenched; hands gripping the wooden chair like his life depended on it. Maybe that study session was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just googled an online class, like your best friend told you to. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.” 

And, if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, Jungkook started to convince himself that perhaps it would be a good idea to come clean with you about his psychic abilities — maybe that was actually the only way that he could get out of that mess. If you were his soulmate, you’d understand. It’d all be okay. Yeah, maybe you’d be seriously creeped out for like the first twenty minutes, just like he had been, but eventually you’d understand what had happened. You two would laugh about it later, maybe when you were sixty, on your rocking chairs somewhere, staring lovingly at a cornfield. 

Was he losing it? Probably. But he didn’t have the right amount of mental clarity to fully think about the consequences of his actions in that moment. 

“I… did,” Jungkook spoke sluggishly, barely comprehending the trail of words that dripped from his tongue. His voice was much calmer, but he could still feel like his entire body was engulfed by flames. “I did... see a ghost. Two actually.” 

You frowned. This afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you talking about?” 

“Jungkook, don’t you dare,” Yoongi warned, but his voice seemed to come from miles away. 

Slowly, as if he wasn’t really aware of his own body moving, Jungkook adjusted his position on the chair, looking down at the sea of handwritten notes in front of him. He wished that human interaction was as easy as the types of pulmonary volumes, or perhaps the changes of oxygen inside the hemoglobin. That he knew. That he could deal with.

“Ok so, have you ever watched The Emperor’s New Groove?”

You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”

“The Disney movie,” he clarified, looking up at you. 

You shook your head, measuring how long it would take for you to bolt out of the door and run away from your own apartment. Maybe you could get out and then call someone for help. You wished you had already taken Psychiatry. “I know what that is, Jungkook, but I just don’t understand where you’re getting at.”

“Maybe it’s in the TV series that came after the movie, I don’t know, but Kronk has these two little beings on his shoulders, a devil and an angel.” He cleared his throat, and looked back at the sheets of paper. It was so hard to stare at you now, when just seconds before, it had been so easy. “I kinda have the same thing, only, they’re dead people. You know, ghosts. And they’re not on my shoulders — that’d be pretty awful, actually.” 

Taehyung mumbled from across the room, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jungkook.” 

“You’re making no sense right now,” you said, worried about the effect that your words could have on him. “I think… I think it would be better if you left.” 

“I can see dead people, okay?” Jungkook interrupted, exasperated. You had to understand. You were the right girl from physiology class, you had to understand. 

“Okay, Sixth Sense.” You laughed nervously. Bad time for a joke, you thought, but the boy barely seemed to process it. “Listen, I can tell you’re not doing very well right now, so you should probably leave, maybe clear your head a bit. You already helped me a lot—”

“No, I don’t need that. My head is clear—”

“You know, there is a very good mental health clinic in campus, I’ve gone there already, and I think—” 

“No! I don’t need mental health, it’s true!” Jungkook stood up, walking towards the couch, where the two dead men sat. There was an unspoken contest in the room to see who could be more flabbergasted at the boy’s actions, and you and Yoongi were in a close tie. “I can prove it.” 

You almost choked on air. “You what?” 

Jungkook pointed at nothing. “They’re here right now, I can prove it to you.”

Discombobulated, you shook your head one more time. Maybe if you did that enough, your chaotic thoughts would just fall out of your ears, and everything would be much clearer. Maybe that was a prank, maybe that was a full-blown psychotic breakdown. You just didn’t really know what to do from there. “Jungkook, I don’t think—” 

“Come on, just show yourself to her!” He yelled into the air, more specifically at your white couch. You just wanted to study cardiology, how did it end up like this? “Give me a sign, I don’t know.”

Yoongi chuckled, completely amazed by the way Jungkook continuously broke the Dumb Records that he had previously set himself. No bonus in heaven would be worth dealing with Mr. Smooth Brain over there. He should’ve gone for the orphans instead. “I cannot believe you right now.” He stood up from the couch and sighed, utterly defeated. Maybe he could just get it over with, and then The Big Man Upstairs would show him a bit of mercy. “But I guess now there isn’t much to lose. I’m only doing this because at least it would make this situation a bit better.” 

“How?” Taehyung asked. 

“There’s a slight improvement between psychotic crisis and psychic abilities,” Yoongi responded. He walked towards the window, rolled his eyes at the pathetic presentation of supernatural phenomena, and pulled on the white curtains of your living room. “Here. Boo! Paranormal activity.” 

“Did you see that?” Jungkook asked, excited. 

However, instead of meeting a surprised gaze, he only saw panic and preoccupation swimming inside your eyes. “The curtain moving? Yeah. That was the wind, Jungkook.” You stood up from the chair, measuring your chances at escaping. He was getting more and more erratic, and you didn’t know where the situation could escalate to next. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now. You’re being really aggressive about this.” 

“Yoongi, you’re worse than the spirits in Ghost Hunters,” Taehyung groaned, reappearing next to your living room table. “You have to be bold, that’s what I always say. Make a statement.”

Taehyung’s statement, of course, had been the biggest slap against a lamp that Jungkook had ever witnessed in his life. The ghosts had once told him that it took them a huge amount of concentrated energy to do something as little as move a napkin, so there was no way that Taehyung wouldn’t be exhausted after making that heavy piece of furniture fly against the wall, shattering into a million little pieces with a loud noise. 

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asked. “That was so dangerous! She could’ve gotten hurt.”

He shrugged. “You asked.” 

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, taking your hands to your face. Was that shared hysteria? What did you just see? Maybe you were the one who needed fresh air and a shrink visit. “You’re pranking me, right? You have like a nylon string wrapped around your hands or something.”

Jungkook moved his head in denial, raising his hands up in a sigh of defeat. “I swear to God, it’s true.” 

“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” you said, clearly terrified. Not at the idea of ghosts, Jungkook realized, but of him. That date surely couldn’t have gone any better. 

Yoongi sighed and materialized behind Jungkook. Lost causes, Yoongi was surrounded by lost causes. “If you really want her to believe you, tell her we can say some stuff about her, but it’ll probably freak her out.”

“They are saying that they can convince you by saying some stuff about you.” Jungkook swallowed dry. Something inside him was screaming for him to just shut the fuck up and leave your building. If there was something he learned by being with the two undead pricks, is that they could always make a situation worse. 

But desperate times require desperate measures. 

You adjusted your posture. Trepidation was still very present in your face, but there was also a small spark of interest swimming somewhere inside your eyes. “I seriously doubt that.” 

“I can show you,” he said. “Just… don’t freak out.”

“Fine.” You licked your lips in anticipation. “The name of my first pet.”

“Is this a password verification?” Yoongi groaned. He just wanted to watch Twitches later that day, but Jungkook just had to start a seance in someone else’s room. Again: the orphans would never. “Fine. It was Mr. Green, a tortoise she killed by leaving to dry in the asphalt.” 

“It was a tortoise, Mr. Green. You left it on the asphalt and it died,” Jugkook repeated without hesitation. 

You blinked twice, taking in the answer. “This is so fucking weird. How did you know that?”

“Yoongi told me.” Jungkook pointed over his shoulder, where Yoongi stared you down. Just by looking in that direction, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were losing it. “He’s, you know, one of the ghosts.” 

“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” You placed one hand against the chair, leaning against it. There was no use to keep that conversation going, and you both knew it — and yet, just like a politician lying, it just didn’t stop. “But you could’ve asked anyone that.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to become completely lost. “Why would I ask such a specific question? I don’t even know your friends.” 

Behind him, he heard another loud groan. “I’m so done with this.” Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Jungkook.” 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked.

Yoongi snorted. “We are all out of good ideas. But I think this is the best chance you’ve got.”

“Who are you talking to?” You almost yelled. 

Jungkook looked back at you and, for some reason, the preoccupation in his eyes scared you even further. “Okay, this is going to be really weird, alright? But it’s not gonna be me talking.”

“What?” 

“It’s like… a kind of possession,” he explained, gesticulating a bit more than socially acceptable. “It’s like… uh… One of them is going to use my mouth for a bit. Talk through me.” 

You laughed, and there was a high-pitched sort of timbre to it. That might as well happen. “Sure, of course. What else? Exorcism live?” You asked. 

“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded. 

Jungkook took in a deep breath, and clenched his hands into fists. He hated that part. “Fine,” he consented. 

Gradually, the muscles around his mouth and throat grew numb, as if Jungkook had entered a dream, and his body was responding in autopilot. There was an awful pressure on his shoulders and a ringing in his ears as Yoongi accommodated himself around his body, reaching for control. That was the closest he would ever feel to being a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it was as bad as it could be. 

Yoongi spoke through him with ease: “You told your friends last week that you didn’t care if Jungkook was a shy virgin who played minecraft because he was exactly your type. You also said that your average score in physiology is ninety-seven percent and you didn’t need any help. You just needed an excuse to stay with him. Happy?” 

Jungkook inhaled sharply as the pressure on his body subsided, the numb sensation around his neck growing thinner by the second. “So violating,” he complained. 

“How did you know that?” Your voice shook him back to reality. Both of you were reaching new levels of terror every minute. “Are you stalking me?”

That back and forth was starting to get exhausting. “That wasn’t me. That was Yoongi,” he tried once again. He was starting to think that the whole thing had been a bad idea. 

“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat. 

Yoongi scoffed. “Fuck you too, princess. Maybe you really don’t deserve this man.”

“I’m not saying that,” Jungkook whispered to him, then turned back to look at you. He wanted to hug you and magically erase your memories for that afternoon, but, in reality, he couldn’t even move his legs without feeling like he could fall face-down on the floor. He really, really, really hated possession. “I’m just… I’m sorry about that.” 

“About what, Danny Phantom?” You asked, throwing your hands up in an exasperated gesture. And there it was: from panic to complete fury. That was all that you two needed at that moment. “About making me scared shitless, or about exposing me like this?” 

He suspired. “Do you at least believe in me now?” 

“Does it look like I believe in you, Jungkook?” You practically screamed. Truth was: neither of you knew that for sure. “I’m a woman of science, you can’t expect me to believe that—”

Taehyung groaned, walking closer to Jungkook. It must’ve been a world record how quickly everyone in that room got angry. “Let me talk,” he requested. 

Jungkook sighed, defeated. How much worse could it possibly get? “Go ahead,” he said.

There it was again: the feeling of being under anesthesia, the weight of an entire other being pressed down against his shoulders. Good times. “Yesterday,” he started, “you masturbated to the thought of Jungkook, but you forgot to recharge your vibrator so you had to use your fingers and you complained the entire time. Explain that, science woman.”

Another deep gasp, and Jungkook was folding over, finding balance on his knees. He really felt like he couldn’t even think straight anymore, his mind covered by a thick fog. 

You didn’t seem to be in a much different situation either. “I’m… gonna pass out.” 

“That was so unnecessary, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered. His mouth was terribly dry, and his hands were shaking. “You guys really don’t know your limits.” 

“Taehyung? Who the fuck is that?” You screamed. 

Taehyung crossed his arms. “Hey, at least she believes you now.”

“He’s the other ghost. The one with no sense of boundaries.” Jungkook stared at Taehyung, clearly pissed off. Maybe his voice would’ve come out a bit more forceful if he didn’t get thrown around by sadistic spirits. “I’m sorry about that.” 

You shook your head, dumbfounded. “I need you to leave now. And take your ghosts with you.” You leaned over the table, and grabbed his notes, shoving them into a messy pile. Not that you were super worried about the integrity of the paper at a time like that. “This has really crossed like... every line.” 

Jungkook licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Someway, he managed to get his legs firm enough so he could start walking in your direction. “Please, I didn’t mean to—” 

You shoved the pile of notes into his backpack, and then the backpack into his hands. Before he could react, you grabbed him by the arm, guiding him towards the exit. “Thanks for helping me, Jungkook.” The door opened with a forceful pull, and you shoved him into the hall. “Never speak to me again. Bye.” 

The bang of the door slamming shut was horribly loud, reverberating inside Jungkook’s chest for a moment longer. Now that the possession daze was starting to move away from his body, the boy could feel the traces of panic crawling inside him. 

Jungkook dropped his backpack to the ground, and started knocking on your door. “Y/N, please!” He called. “I’m so sorry about everything. You have to believe me!” 

Your yell came muffled from the other side of the door. “Go away!” you screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!”

Defeated, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the wood. Now that the situation had already climaxed, the absurdity of it all was starting to become much more palpable. 

How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could he think that you would act normally as you were exposed to the supernatural world? Especially in such distressing, violating ways. Even if you were his meant-to-be, his forever person, it would be ridiculous to believe that anyone would take all  in that with ease. He really outdid himself that time. 

“Let her be, you two can talk another time,”  Yoongi spoke, leaning against the wall. It was possible to see all the places that the pain was starting to crack through his semi-translucent form. “Good attempt, though. I’d give you a star for trying.” 

“This is not funny,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away from the door so you couldn’t hear him. The artificial lights above his head were sharp, buzzing mockingly. “You two keep saying that you’re here to help me, but you keep making stuff like this happen. If she really did like me, you just ruined everything.”

Yoongi raised one eyebrow. “Why do you care so much about that one?”

Jungkook glanced at him. “You told me she’s the one.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I told you she was the right girl from physiology class, not that you two were going to die holding hands or something,” Yoongi told him. “You filled the blanks yourself.”

“That’s why we don’t give away all those details,” Taehyung scolded Yoongi, looking at him up and down. Jungkook had never seen him so irritated before — at least not about serious things. “You know we could get in real big trouble if someone heard about that. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s kind of the entire deal of heaven to know about stuff.” 

“I know, I know,” Yoongi groaned, disregarding his preoccupations. Maybe Taehyung didn’t understand his galaxy-brain plan yet, but he was sure that the heavens would. Or at least he hoped so. “But I think there’s something else that we need to focus on. Jungkook wouldn’t care this much about the other girls he dated, even if it was meant to be.” 

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. 

“Why are you talking to yourself like you’re not in a corridor of an apartment building?” Yoongi threw back. Without a second of hesitation, Jungkook picked up his backpack and turned on his heels, walking down the hall, completely done with them. “Hey, come back. Just tell me what’s the fuzz with this one.” 

He didn’t look back. “Aren’t you two supposed to know? All-knowing and shit.” 

“We want to hear it from you,” Yoongi pressed on. 

Jungkook opened the heavy door to the stairwell, allowing for it to hit behind him. Taehyung and Yoongi passed right through it, of course, and kept following him as he quickly moved down the concrete steps. “Y/N is my friend.”

Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”

“Isn’t that enough for a justification? What else do you want from me?” He inquired, aggressive. The sound of his steps echoed like drums through the expansion of the staircase, and he hoped that no one else had been listening to his apparent monologue. “I don’t wanna ruin this friendship by talking about her masturbation techniques, I don’t know if that makes the situation super unique.” 

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “You have other friends.” 

“I care for her, alright?” Jungkook turned around abruptly, making the two ghosts stop in their tracks. Taehyung had almost lost his balance, but it wasn’t as if that could have any serious consequences for him. 

Jungkook sighed, trying to control the anger that had built up so rapidly, and continued speaking. “I care for her more than other friends. Fuck, is that what you two wanted to hear? Besides, it’s not like I know anyone better than her.  I didn’t even think I had a chance with someone like that until you told me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s like… super hot when she’s mad—”

“Oh, would you look at that.” Yoongi grinned, satisfied. “Jungkook’s whipped.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook covered his face, feeling the heat of his checks emanating against his palms. “I’m not!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, tiger,” Yoongi raised his hands in a silent request for forgiveness.  They were still a few steps above Jungkook, and the whole scene looked like something straight out of the Book of Revelation. “This is a good thing, we actually thought it would never happen. It’s not like you’ve been this introspective in what… five years? More even.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi sighed, and looked at Taehyung for confirmation. The other ghost nodded in a silent agreement, and Yoongi started to speak. “Listen, we’re here to help you, but we didn’t say everything,” he admitted. “We couldn’t, really, otherwise it wouldn’t be so... organic.”

“What?” 

“Jungkook, you were desperate to lose your virginity,” Yoongi explained. “You still are, in a way. And that’s not a good thing, because you’ll get the first thing that moves and you’ll try to stick your dick in it.”

Taehyung chuckled drily, looking at a fixed point. “Which is not a good idea, believe me,” he spoke in a mumble, and Jungkook could not help but think that his advice came from personal experience. That, of course, was a story for other, less sober times. 

“Is that why the two of you always interrupt me?” He asked, a bit offended. “Because those girls weren’t right for me? Like this is a purity cult or something?” 

“Eh.” Yoongi did a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kind of. Not really. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you actually feel something for this girl, something beyond the thoughts that come from your lower head.”

“And she feels something for you too, even after that trainwreck that we just witnessed in there,” Taehyung added patiently. “Which will help us a lot in the long run.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jungkook crossed his arms, stubborn. He really could look and sound like a child throwing a tantrum when he wanted to. “I still don’t get it. It wasn’t your place to tell me who I could or couldn’t be with, it’s not as if you guys are—” 

“Jungkook, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupted him. “You don’t think it makes sense? Stop and think for once in your life.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?” 

Taehyung glanced at him. “Listen, we just saved you from months of wrong dates and wrong nights. We pushed away people who didn’t really care about you, who just wanted you to use you, or who would end up cheating on you anyways. Not everyone gets this privilege,” he said, completely done with that victim mentality. “So, for once in your life, be grateful. Be grateful for the bad dates,  the embarrassment, the times that it didn’t work out. And, look, we are sorry for the way they had to go down, it wasn’t as funny as it seemed from our perspective. But if you didn’t have those bad dates, you’d have very, very bad months following them. So you’re welcome.” 

“And all those bad dates lead you to the right person,” Yoongi completed, watching as Jungkook’s expression withered into shame. He was staring to get it — they could almost see the hamster in his brain start running. “Now, listen, we don’t know if this is the for-life situation, that’s not the kind of information we have, alright? Do I look like a seraphin to you? No. But does it matter?  No. Most relationships aren’t the for-life thing anyways, but they are here to teach you something. And if the afterlife thought that there was something good for you here, who are we to judge?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed. “Now, can you  please forget about all those past people and just focus on her? Maybe shut the fuck up while you do that? I get that you wanted to get your dick wet, but there’s a time and a place for that.” 

The boy sighed, and leaned against the red handrails. It took Jungkook a few seconds to speak out. “I feel like I’ve just been lectured by my parents,” he admitted. 

Taehyung relaxed his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to slap some sense into you for months now, but I didn’t really have the permission.” 

“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.

He nodded. “Much better.”

“I’m happy for you,” he said. Jungkook ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about Y/N… There’s no way she’ll ever talk to me after this mess. I ruined everything.”

Taehyung nodded. “You pretty much did, yeah.” 

“You took the worst case scenario and managed to make it even more horrible,” Yoongi said. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.” 

“Thanks, that’s great.” Jungkook chuckled, humorless. He could always count on them for emotional support. “But, I mean… What do I do now? I mean, is there anything that we could do to save this?” 

“Worry not, my child,” Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms. “Taehyung and I are masters of seduction, and we’re here to help you. Just trust us.” 

“And before you say something,” Taehyung interrupted, raising one finger. “You never had the right girl before, so we weren’t really trying. I think we can find some real solid ground here.” 

Jungkook breathed out, and looked down at the grey stairs. Yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t at the bottom of the well already. “Fine. One last chance,” he agreed, looking back at the ghosts. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

______________

Much to Jungkook’s delight, he didn’t need to muster up the courage to talk to you, because you did that first. 

For the first time in their lives (and deaths), Yoongi and Taehyung actually did something right. Jungkook didn’t really know the details of their plan, all that he knew was that they would find a way to “make you see what you were missing” so that you would “come crawling back to him”. Which didn’t sound threatening at all.

 Countless possibilities crossed Jungkook’s head — horror movie hauntings, Taehyung invading your dreams with claws for fingers, Yoongi with a wet wig crawling out of your TV — but, in the end, no matter how much he insisted, the two of them just wouldn’t say a word. Apparently, there was a lot going on backstage that Jungkook had no idea about, so he should just “take it easy�� and wait for the sequence of events to unravel. Amazing. Now he knew how the characters in Final Destination felt. 

“Just be patient, young one,” Taehyung had told him, thrown over his couch like a Victorian monarch. “All you need to know is that she will be back. Everything else it’s just… details.” 

And, two weeks after the dormitory incident, you did. 

There was a muffled thud as you placed your large books over the wooden table, and sat down across from him. The silence of the library didn’t allow for Jungkook to foresee your arrival, and to meet your gaze so suddenly was enough for his face to burn up in shame, his heart drumming against his ribcage. His sympathetic system really needed to quit with that bullshit before he collapsed. 

“Hey,” you mumbled, seeming just as uncomfortable as he was. “Can we talk? You know what about.”

The boy swallowed dry, and leaned a bit forward. “Y-Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I don’t know why I thought—”

“For how long?” you sliced his sentence short, making his lips fall shut. 

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

You cleared your throat, and shuffled on your seat. As much as the library was practically empty, neither of you felt courageous enough to use your usual voice tone — especially when dealing with that subject. “How long have you been able to, you know, see them?”

Jungkook took a second to respond, licking his dry lips and looking at the line of bookshelves as if seeking for the right thing to say. He felt awkward enough just interacting with someone from the opposite sex, but talking about the ghosts he saw? Hell, that bordered on a panic attack. Especially after the circus show that was that past study session. “Almost two years now, I think,” he finally answered. “But they told me they’ve been around for a bit longer. I just couldn’t see it.” 

You shook your head in concordance, even if the information was everything but easy to understand. “That’s crazy,” you spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “Not very well, as you can probably tell.” 

 “I don’t think I can judge you. I didn’t precisely react well either.” You swallowed dry, wide eyes flickering on the world behind Jungkook. “Are we alone now?”

As much as he already knew the answer, he looked around just to check. “Surprisingly, yeah,” Jungkook responded, slightly suspicious. Yoongi and Taehyung were always looking over his shoulder and throwing him into messy situations, he couldn’t tell why they weren’t there when, quite frankly, it was their perfect shot at humiliation. Maybe they really were doing their jobs for once. “I don’t know why they’re not here. That’s weird.”

You shrugged as if to say that you wouldn’t know either. “What are their names again?”

“Yoongi and Taehyung,” he answered, then waited another second to see if he could feel their presence. Nothing again. That was really strange — they often responded upon being called. “Listen, Y/N, I hate what we went through. They had no right to say those things. I’m used to the privacy issues, since I have been with them for a while. But you aren’t, and I can only imagine how weird you felt hearing all that. I’m really, really sorry.”

You pressed your lips together which, Jungkook guessed, was a failed attempt to suppress the rubor that exploded across your cheeks. He couldn’t blame you, though, for there were limits that were crossed. “I’m over it if you are,” was what you forced yourself to say. 

“I am,” he lied. None of you were particularly good at not telling the truth, and that was pretty obvious. But ignoring it was a start. 

“Good, okay.” You cleared your throat, placing the palms of your hands against the pile of books. “Sorry for lying about needing help in physiology, and all that. I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you, as you know now. I guess it’s obvious that I kinda have a huge crush on you.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook laughed, extremely relieved to notice that your last sentence was in present tense. “I kinda have a huge crush on you too.” 

Honestly, even if it wasn’t for life, he’d have to give you props for still liking a guy that had had a borderline psychotic breakdown in your apartment, talked about your pet tortoise, and your masturbation technique, and still had the nerve to expose you to the supernatural world. It was a lot. Good on you for taking it like a champ. 

“And,” he continued, “sorry for using my ghosts to expose your secrets. I just needed to find a way for you to believe me, and I had no idea about what they were going to say. I was pretty much in a frenzied state, I wasn’t thinking straight. It won’t happen again.” 

“Apologies accepted.” You smiled, relieved. You were really beautiful, Jungkook thought in a breathless instant. He could look at you all day. “You know, it’s going to take me some time to get used to all that. I mean, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe in everything, but, I… My lamp flew across the room, and you told me things that you simply couldn’t know about. So, if it’s a prank, it’s a really good one.”

“I know how it is.” He nodded in agreement. “It was really difficult for me at first, too. I understand if you’d rather just stay away from me from now on.” 

You sighed, looking down at your books —  the two mammoth-sized volumes of Harrison’s Internal Medicine staring at you in mockery. “Weird thing is: I don’t really want to.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair. Was that the sound of angels singing? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Alone, if possible. And that counts both planes of existence.” 

“Sounds fair, I’d love that.” Jungkook smiled. As he met your eyes, he was filled with a  warm, rose-colored courage that he had never felt before. “Actually, I was wondering if, you know… you wanna do something? With me? Alone, of course. No ghosts. One of these days, I don’t know. If you’re not busy—”

You raised your eyebrows, interested. “You’re asking me out?”

He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Trying, yeah. You can see I’m not the best at that either.”

Your smile grew a little. “That’s a big yes.”

“Really?” Jungkook stared at you like a lost puppy, his mind going completely blank for a second or two. The hamster in his brain was now somersaulting through his body, landing on his stomach and hitting him with a wave of nausea. “Wow, thanks. I don’t really have an idea of what we could do, though. Didn’t think I’d get that far.”

There was an instant of quietude as you thought for a moment, the space between the two of you permeated by the vague sounds of pages turning. “Movies?” You asked. 

“Sounds great.” Jungkook smiled openly, his shoulders falling in alleviation. He didn’t know what Taehyung and Yoongi had done, but he was beyond thankful for it. Seemed like their sacrifices weren’t in vain, after all. “The film majors are doing this 2000’s marathon this week. I think this Saturday it’ll be either Mean Girls or 17 Again.”

“I’m in,” you spoke excitedly. “I’ll be there, just text me the details.”

Jungkook almost swallowed his own tongue as he watched you stand up, presenting him with a gorgeous view of thighs beneath the level of your skirt. “Great!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, his voice a bit too high-pitched, awakening his inner thirteen-year-old. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice another octave. “I mean, yeah, great. Thank you for… saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking.” You placed your hair behind your shoulder, and leaned in to pick up the heavy pile of books. All nine kilos of Internal Medicine. 

“See you there,” he said. 

You smiled. “See you, Kookie.” 

Jungkook watched you walk away as if he was floating in a fever dream, completely unable to believe what had just unfolded. Did he seriously manage to get a date with you? Of all people? He must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe he ended up falling down the stairwell and died, perhaps that was his heaven, and he would— 

Behind him, Taehyung sneered. “Kookie? You’re getting softer than your dick.” 

Jungkook turned around so brusquely that the chair tilted back and, if it wasn’t for him holding down to the corner of the table, he would’ve fallen to the ground. “You two were there all along?” He whispered-screamed. Before he could land a sermon on them, though, he met the devilish smirk that was plastered all over Yoongi’s features. Oh no. No. The movies. “No, Yoongi, I know what you’re thinki—”

“Get in, loser, we’re going to the movies.” 

_________________

Saturday rolled around and, with it, came your much anticipated movie date. Jungkook had spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed, completely monopolized by anxiety, thinking about every possible apocalyptic scenario that could go down. What if he tried to take a slip of his drink, but ended up blinding himself with the straw? Maybe he would step on the wrong chord and set the entire college on fire. Or maybe he would trip, fall down on a poor girl, and kill her on the spot. That would be awful, you would never talk to him again after any of that — the imaginary disappointment in your face was like a punch in the gut. 

Was he being ridiculous? Obviously. Did that stop his pre-date panic? Obviously not. 

Still, with the might of a thousand warriors, Jungkook managed to drag himself to your date, his knees almost giving out beneath him when he saw you — he didn’t believe you would actually come, for some of him still thought it was all a sadistic heaven prank. Somehow, he blurted out a compliment about how good you looked while he was having a heart attack, and almost lost his consciousness when you smiled at him. 

Yep, it would be a difficult night. 

The movie marathon consisted of three 2000’s movies, and the two of you managed to arrive right before Mean Girls started, fumbling on your seats as the rest of the room grew quiet. The makeshift classroom didn’t look like a movie theater in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting that in the first place — it was nothing more than an agglomeration of chairs and desks, combined with a few puff chairs and old couches scattered around. Much to your delight, you and Jungkook managed to grab one of those couches before another couple returned to their seats, and he could see that his ghost buddies had already found their own place on the empty chairs behind the two of you. 

Surprise! None of the catastrophic scenarios in his mind actually came true. In fact, he had a great time with you, laughing at your jokes and sometimes flat-out stealing Yoongi’s commentary just to make you chuckle, which granted him a few mumbled complaints coming from the back row. 

“Jungkook is so superior, don’t you think, Taehyung?” Yoongi mocked, and Jungkook was sure that he would be kicking his seat if he could. “So smart. So great. But can’t even figure out his own jokes. Has to steal them from a poor dead man. You’re a grave robber.” 

Taehyung chuckled. “Hey, you’re helping him, at least. That’s our whole point here.”

“Grave robber!” he repeated, more aggressively this time. “I can’t believe you’d ruin Mean Girls for me like this. Not even hell would be so cruel.” 

“How dare you say that about hell? If I get in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Yoongi, I swear to God—”

“Now you’re saying God’s name in vain, you heretic! That’s so much worse!” 

Jungkook had to bite back a laugh as the two continued bickering behind him, only half aware of the scene in which Regina George glued her own picture on the burn book. He didn’t know when exactly he had done it — he had been so on edge the entire night that it was almost as if his own brain was instantly deleting his memories, but he had managed to curl one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He was sure that you could hear the frantic heartbeat of his heart against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could even get that far. 

But he did, and even reached beyond that. 

Once the screen faded to black and the credits started appearing, there was a resounding wave of claps in the room, cheering for the absolute cultural reset that was that movie. One of the students moved to the front of the room, explaining that they would take a ten minutes break, then would return with She’s All That. Apparently, 1999 was close enough to the 2000’s for it to be picked as well. 

“Do you wanna stay and watch it?” He asked, fighting every muscle in his body not to smell your hair. He knew that it would be super creepy, yeah, but your head was right there and it smelled so good. 

You removed your body from his chest, looking up at him. “I would love to, but I have to wake up early tomorrow to study,” you said. “Big test on Monday.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, slightly let down. To be honest, he had completely forgotten that information until that point. Seems like he would have a lot to catch up on during the next day. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.” 

You thanked him with a smile, and you two got moving. 

The walk back to your place wasn’t exactly awkward, but it could have also been a lot better. The two of you talked about the movie animatedly, the subject that you had to study — an awful amount of gastric pathology to memorize — and, eventually, landed on your weirdest experiences during hospital rounds. You were in the middle of telling him how two toddlers (twins) managed to puke on you at the same time, and how you thought that was a sign of a telepathic connection between the two, when he felt the back of his hand brush against yours, and everything around him turned into static. Suddenly, it was all that he could think about. 

Jungkook had already spent the entire date with questions flying around his head. When was the right time to pull you close? Could he hold your hand, or would that be too bold? Could you smell how sweaty he was? Or maybe his deodorant was too strong? If he ran away, trained to be an astronaut, and joined the Mars colonization mission, would he be able to avoid embarrassing himself again? 

And, more importantly: would it be weird to kiss you goodnight? 

Considering the fact that he had no clue how to read your body language, and that almost all of his romantic experience came from bad sitcoms and Twilight marathons with Yoongi, Jungkook didn’t judge himself suited to answer that last question. He didn’t know if he should hold your hand, he didn’t know if you were just being polite or if you actually had a good time. Again and again, his anxiety got the best of him. He should really get back to seeing his campus counselor. 

“So… we’re here,” you said, holding your hands in front of your body. You had stopped at the entrance of your block, and Jungkook took that as a sign that you didn’t want him to go all the way back to your apartment. Fair enough. “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. We should do this again sometimes.” 

“For sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, somewhat relieved that you asked for that. At least that was a clear sign that you didn’t completely hate him. “That would be great.” 

You agreed and looked down at your shoes. The darkness of the night enveloped the two of you, only half of your features illuminated by the dim yellow shine of the nearest light post. Jungkook almost fainted when you stared into his eyes, with a faint blush painting your cheeks, and questioned, “So, you’re not gonna kiss me?” 

Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.

 “I… I, uh—” Jungkook’s mouth felt as if he had just swallowed an entire desert, his brain fighting to keep his voice steady. Your eyes, so focused and expectant, felt like daggers against his chest. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he finally admitted. 

Your shoulders fell as a tender smile curled up on your roseate lips. Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I do,” you told him gently. His heart almost leaped out of his throat. “Do you want to?” 

And that was the easiest question that he would ever answer. “Yeah,” Jungkook said. 

You smiled. “Perfect.” 

The boy barely had time to react before your hand was curling around the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him towards you in a playful tug. Jungkook’s eyes stayed comically widened for a second after your lips met, but, soon enough, he allowed himself to melt into your embrace, his nervous hands landing on your waist, and his mind instantly calming down. 

He kissed you slowly, carefully, almost afraid that, at the faintest of movements, reality would shatter and he would lose that moment forever. Of course, it didn’t, and he stayed on that instant a bit longer before, at last, he pulled away, slightly breathless. 

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he confessed. 

You tilted your head at him, fingers playing with his hair. “It happened at the right time,” you said. “Some things can’t be rushed. Especially the good ones.” 

Just like that, he understood what Taehyung and Yoongi had been saying all those years. No matter how cliche it was, there was some truth to the saying that ‘what is supposed to happen, will’. And, the better that something is, the more work it will require. 

But, as he kissed you again, Jungkook realized that it was all worth it in the end.

____________

The following months by your side were so amazing that Jungkook constantly brought back his theory that “maybe he was actually dead, and that was heaven.” And, if it was, he would make sure to shake God’s hand himself because, holy fuck, was he one lucky man. 

Okay, maybe the first few weeks together were a bit painfully cringe-worthy, but he was really trying to pretend as if they didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t really get the memo, and he had to slowly figure out how to behave romantically with you. He got it wrong the first few times — kissing you at the worst possible moment, or sending you a huge bouquet of roses during your microbiology exam — but, eventually, you guided him towards more neutral grounds. Then everything went smoothly. 

Surprisingly, even the undead duo calmed down for a while. Yoongi and Taehyung were still around, since they had no other option, but were much quieter now, only making punctual remarks when Jungkook made a fool out of himself. Hell, they even left the room when things started getting more serious between the two of you, instead of giving Cosmopolitan-worthy advice, and that was a huge improvement. 

But, of course, it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s life if there wasn’t a huge joke waiting just around the corner. Soon enough, another issue would present itself. 

It came in the form of a warm mumble against his lips, and the vague — yet deliciously noticeable — rolling of your hips against his own. “Jungkook,” you called, breathless after a long make-out session. The two of you were on his couch, with you sitting on his lap, straddling him. “I want you.” 

He froze. What else would he do? Jungkook was a panicked virgin. He knew that your intimate times would happen eventually — and he really wanted them to — but he didn’t expect that his mind would completely malfunction once he got so close, with his erection growing inside his pants and the softness of your breasts pressing against his torso. It was just a lot, alright? 

And, lost amidst the tempestuous sea of his sudden despair, all that he could utter back was, “Are… Are you sure you want to do this right now?” 

“Yeah.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook thought that he could faint on the spot. It was actually a pretty common sensation with him. “You don’t want it?”

“No — I mean yeah! Yeah, I want it.” He choked on his words, looking down in embarrassment, only to meet the contour of your thighs. His youth leader had been right all along: temptation was everywhere. “I’m just… I’ve never done anything before.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down, placing your hands on his shoulders. The heat of your palms seemed to have some effect on the chaotic emotions that boiled inside him, for his muscles relaxed considerably under your touch. “I won’t pressure you, okay? If you want to take more time, it’s completely fine.” 

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t feel pressured.” He shook his head, then looked up at you. You could almost feel the conflict inside his gaze, the mixture of anticipation and fear that you knew all too well. “I want you, Y/N, I really do. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated. “We don’t have to do anything now, and we can start slo—”

But he couldn’t listen to the end of your phrase, because a familiar voice damn near hollered from the other side of the room. “Taehyung, come in here! Quick!” Yoongi yelled, signaling through the door like he was controlling the air traffic. “He’s getting some! Jungkook’s about to get his cherry popped the fuck off!” 

You tilted your head to the side, staring him down with preoccupation. “Jungkook? Are you okay?”

“The fuck! There is no fucking way!” Taehyung’s voice got louder as he yelled, signaling his growing proximity. “Call NASA right now!”

Jungkook sighed, throwing his head against the couch. Goodbye erection, and goodbye any chance of having sex that day. “Yoongi and Taehyung just showed up,” he mumbled bitterly. 

You lowered your gaze and took a deep breath, then removed yourself from his lap. Jungkook hated the lack of heat, and he swore he would have drop-kicked the two if they weren’t in a different dimension. The certainty of death was all that he needed to know that he would get his revenge some day. “Of course they did,” you complained, fixing your clothes. “I love being cockblocked by cockless ghosts. Again.”

“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended. 

Jungkook turned around harshly, his voice bitter. “Can the two of you just fuck off? This is not the time.” 

“So you two can fuck?” Yoongi grinned, then looked at Taehyung. “We should, actually.”

“Jungkook… this is too weird now.” You raised your hands in a silent bargain for it all to stop. You could deal with a few psychic sessions every once in a while, but being a voyeurism victim for ghosts wouldn’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon. “Let’s do this another time, okay? I should get going anyways. Big day at the hospital tomorrow.” 

He took one of his hands to his face, massaging his temple. You got up from the couch, reaching for your backpack. “Yeah, okay.” The boy pouted, and you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointing end for a night, to say the least. “Good luck tomorrow. Text me if you get an interesting case!”  

“Thanks! I will.” You threw your backpack strap over your shoulder and started walking towards the exit. Jungkook couldn’t blame you for just wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, he was sure that the discomfort was much worse for you. “Bye, Jungkook! I’ll let you know when I get to my place.”

He opened his mouth to thank you, but you were already out the door. The lock clicked shut, and the silence became thick, mocking him. Even if he already had an actual girlfriend, Jungkook still found himself being left behind by someone that would never want to see him again — dick semi-hard and morale shattered on the ground. Seems like he always found himself back in that position. 

Taehyung materialized on the couch next to him, hugging his knees. He was staring at the closed door, somewhat expecting that you would come back, but knowing very well that you wouldn’t do so. “Okay, I accept that it was our fault,” he said, oscillating his gaze towards Jungkook. “Sorry, man. We are like, super invested in this. There’s almost nothing interesting going on in the afterlife and this is, like, better than any TV show airing right now.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, utterly exhausted at the mess that had become his life. He was done giving them sermons: it had basically turned into the world’s worst pastime and gave little to no results. “You know what? Just promise me you’re not going to show up next time.” He stared both of them down. “I don’t wanna be watched, that’s just weird. And I know that Y/N isn’t happy about that either.” 

Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one of those people,” he told him. “Guys, please. I know you two are as excited as I am about this, and I appreciate your... support, but I think this is something I need to do alone. In peace. Not being watched by spirits. That’s isn’t too much to ask.”  

“He’s right, you know?” Taehyung said, looking back at Yoongi. “We should stay in our lane for now.” 

The other ghost looked down at his feet, which basically morphed into the carpet beneath them. For the first time in two long years, he actually seemed like he was rethinking his actions. “Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi responded. “We got carried away. We’ll leave next time. Maybe try something when your neighbors are having a movie night.” 

Jungkook’s shoulders fell in alleviation.  Maybe not everything was doomed. “Thank you,” he spoke, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll probably do that. When is the next one?” 

Taehyung looked at Yoongi, then back at him. “What are the chances that you’re gonna get your virgin shit together by tomorrow night?”  

___________

Slim to none, actually, but he had managed to (kind of) do it. Focus on the “kind of.”

Jungkook had spent the previous night doing in-depth research about sexual intercourse,  and basing his actions in real-life situations. That meant that he stayed up until four in the morning watching porn. Not masturbating. Just watching it very closely and trying to learn what to do — like an actual serial killer. 

“Do you think that this is… a good idea?” Taehyung spoke from the other side of his room, preoccupation plastered all over his face. The whole porn-science was funny for the first twenty minutes, and then it just ended up being terrifying. “You know that people don’t actually have sex like that, right? It’s all exaggerated.” 

“Quiet!” Jungkook raised his finger after a particularly loud moan echoed, his eyes red and glued to the computer screen. The white light from his device was awfully sharp, bathing his figure and making his image border on demonic. It really wasn’t a good look. “I’m researching. I need to know what to do.” 

“You look and sound like a maniac.” Taehyung walked closer to the bed, measuring his movements. After he died, he thought that he would never be afraid of any other living thing — but Jungkook had just proved him wrong. Against his best judgement, he took a peek at the screen. “No! Oh my— That’s not natural. That’s so wrong. You should know, you studied anatomy.” 

“I’m not gonna do this tomorrow,” Jungkook mumbled, closing the video. Taehyung recoiled back to the darkness of the room like a vampire that had just been touched by the sun. “The plot was interesting.” 

“You’re not even hard, man,” he said, pointing at Jungkook’s trousers. “This is like, really weird. You should stop before you have some problem getting it up tomorrow.” 

“What are you trying to say?” He narrowed his eyes, paranoid. “That wouldn’t happen. I know what I can do.”  

“You’re the medical student, take a look,” Taehyung insisted. “There’s research about that, pornography affects young men and women a lot and— Actually, what the fuck am I talking about? This is crazy. I should’ve left with Yoongi.” 

“Wait, I just—” Jungkook closed his computer with a sigh. His hair was disheveled and his gaze was unfocused. It really was the oddest night in Taehyung’s life/death. “I just don’t know what to do tomorrow. I’m about to have an anxiety attack. It’s like the third one tonight.” 

Taehyung pressed his lips together, the discomfort inside him being replaced by a warm sense of understanding. “Man, she knows you don’t have experience. She isn’t expecting a porn star performance, or whatever the fuck you were just watching.” He pointed to the computer, which was now neglected amongst the sea of blankets. “By the way, I’m a changed spirit. I hate you for making me see that.” 

Jungkook would have laughed at his distress if he wasn’t too tired to do that. “Technically, you decided to look at it yourself,” he corrected. “But, yeah, I know she’s not expecting anything great. But I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, you know? Not like it’s a rare occasion or anything.” 

Taehyung shrugged. Being alive made everything seem so much more important than it actually was, he thought. “Lay back and let her take the lead, then.” 

Jungkook furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the idea. Of course! That was the big  galaxy brain moment he needed all along. “Are you serious? It’s that simple?” He asked, hopeful. 

Taehyung chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

Yeah. It was that simple. Who would’ve thought that those see-through idiots actually would have something intelligent to say? 

Really, it was a time of miracles in Jungkook’s life. The following day, the planets aligned and, for the first time ever since puberty, everything went right for him: the class ended a bit early, his neighbors decided to watch two movies instead of one, and his place was perfectly devoid of any paranormal activity by the time you wandered into it. 

He didn’t tell you that he had planned that entire thing before it happened — he thought it would be super strange to schedule his virginity loss out loud — and he was glad to see that everything evolved naturally. One hour and forty minutes after you arrived, you two were already at the same point that you had left the day before — only, this time, you two actually managed to get to his bed.

“They’re not here, are they? You’re sure?” You asked in between kisses for what should’ve been the fifth time. 

“No, I asked them to leave earlier.” Jungkook’s hands pressed down on your hips, the sensation of your center rolling against his erection eliciting a sigh from him. Ha! Fuck Taehyung and his soft dick curse. “I actually… Before we do anything, I actually wanted to know if you could, you know, help me a little.” 

You hummed, taking your face away from his. Jungkook watched as you licked your lips, your eyes dazed, and leaned in to place another kiss against his mouth. “In what way?” You asked. 

“Just... show me what to do,” he said. “What you like, if I’m doing something wrong… everything.” 

With a soft smile, you agreed, arms curling around his shoulders. “Of course,” you told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.” 

That being said, you dove back to his lips, feeling as he both simultaneously relaxed and tensed up under your touches. Jungkook had evolved a lot in those past few months, you realized, since the early-dating version of him wouldn’t find himself in that position without turning into a stuttering, blushing mess beneath you. It was kind of cute, but you’d never say that out loud. 

You felt his hands trailing up your back, underneath your clothes, his palms dwelling in the softness of your skin for a moment before, in a courageous movement, he decided to pull your shirt up. There was a short separation of your mouths as the piece of clothing slid up your arms, and collapsed against the floor in a puddle of cotton. 

Jungkook sighed once he felt the lace of your bra against his hands; the softness of your breasts was something that he continuously daydreamed about. Now, without the barrier of your clothes, all that he needed was to remove that last constriction and he would be— 

“Oh well…” He chuckled nervously, fumbling with your bra. “Sorry, I don’t know how to open this.”

You smiled at the embarrassment that danced around his features. “Relax, okay?” You said, moving your hands to your back and taking care of that problem yourself. You’d teach him about the magic of unclasping bras another time. “It’s fine.”

But Jungkook didn’t have time to think about an answer, for soon your bra was meeting your shirt on the floor. His reaction would’ve been the same if you just moved over and came back with a baby dinosaur in your hands — his eyes widening in amazement as he took in the image of your nude breasts, a small whimper perishing in his throat as he slithered his hands upward, cupping them. 

Your breath stopped for a moment when he leaned in, reluctant, and enveloped one of your nipples with his warm mouth, his tongue delicately coming out to trace circles on your sensitive flesh. Jungkook groaned at the sensation, his cock becoming unbearably hard against his pants, and tilted your body over so he could be on top of you. 

You curled up against the sheets, sighing in delight as the boy continued to work on your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly, taking his time. Every time you looked down, you could see that Jungkook was having almost as much fun as you, the small moans that dripped from his tongue vibrating inside your chest. 

“Does it feel good?” He raised his gaze towards you, expectant. “Am I doing a good job?” 

“Yes, very good.” Your hands curled around the roots of his hair. The action was gentle, but Jungkook shuddered under the sensation — every small movement proved itself to be a lot for him to handle. “You’re doing amazing. Is there something that you want to do, Kookie?” 

The boy licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Part of him (probably the sleep deprived one) still didn’t believe that you two were actually doing that — that it wasn’t just a figment of his horny imagination. No, it was real. You were right there in front of him, beautiful and devastating, caressing his hair as you waited for an answer. 

“I… I want to make you feel good,” he said, wide-eyed and hesitant. His dick felt painfully hard being so constructed by his pants and, suddenly, he became aware of how clothed he still was. No wonder it was so hot. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

Your lips curled up at his adorableness, one of your hands meeting his wrist. Patiently, you guided it down, and placed it on the hem of your pants. “Can you touch me?” You questioned. “I can tell you what I like.” 

“Oh, please,” he almost pleaded, his hand already fumbling to open your pants. Much to his delight, those were a lot easier than your bra, and they were soon sliding down your legs with ease. 

He took a moment to take in your form, eyes traveling up from your legs, to your hips, then all the way back to your breasts. As Jungkook met your gaze, he allowed for a suspire of relief to depart from his mouth, shoulders relaxing. “I’m so lucky,” he spoke, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The smile that you presented him looked brighter than all of the stars above. “Come here,” you called, leaning against your elbows. “Give me a kiss.” 

Obedient, Jungkook did as you requested, a grunt escaping his chest once you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, nails brushing lightly against the skin of his neck. He had goosebumps at the sensation, his hand moving by its own will, navigating down your stomach and towards your heat. 

His fingers hovered, insecure, over the hem of your panties for a moment. Still, at the sound of his name being spoken against the kiss, he was overtaken by an ephemeral spark of courage. Soon, your panties were on the floor too. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jungkook whined at the contact, his fingers dwelling just above your entrance. Inside his pants, his cock twitched at the sensation, his lower body already tingling with excitement. He didn’t know how he would manage not to cum in his pants, but he would have to find a way. “What do I do now?” 

“Now...” you said, leaning your head against the pillow. “Move up and find my clit. Make all those hours of anatomy worth it,” you joked. 

Jungkook nodded, but anatomy was much more difficult when he wasn’t actually looking at a certain part of the body — he was much more interested in watching your expression. Embarrassed, he did as you requested, trailing his wet fingers up until you told him to stop. “Right there,” you said, sighing once you felt his hand pressing down on it, starting to trace small circular patterns. “That’s it, baby, great job.” 

His heart leaped at the compliment, and his actions became firmer. Jungkook thought he would go insane when he heard you whimper and cry out at the sensation, your hips bucking up against his hand ever so slightly. “You’re so hot,” he breathlessly confessed, his words coming in a hot puff of air against your neck. His digits slowly trailed down, towards your entrance, and he paused. “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

Jungkook swallowed hard, adventuring one finger inside you. At the sensation of your walls clenching around him, he moaned, biting his lip. “God, you’re so tight,” he told you, adding a second finger. You raised your hips at the contact, hands curling on his hair. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” 

His mouth came back to your breasts, sucking and licking your flesh. Jungkook was a mess, you realized — pressing down his hard member against your thigh, whining against your skin as his fingers curled inside you, sinking into your wetness. God, you weren’t made of steel. “I want it,” you told him, and he didn’t understand your words for a moment. “I want to feel you, Jungkook.” 

And he didn’t need anything else. The boy moved away from your body and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. It was no time for hesitation— he didn’t know how much of his precious alone time he had left. “Condoms.” He pointed at his nightstand. “Top drawer.” 

You turned around on the bed, reaching for the furniture as the boy unbuckled his belt and clumsily removed his pants. The mattress bounced beneath you as Jungkook tossed himself around, finding a way to lose his balance as he threw his pants on the ground. Much to his relief, you weren’t paying much attention to it. 

He was already panting — in a mixture of excitement and his pathetic effort to remove his pants — by the time that you gave him the condom. “Do you put it on, or do you want me to?” You asked. 

Jungkook had trained on enough bananas to know that he could do it, but he wasn’t gonna let the chance to have you touching him down there pass. “You do it, please.” 

You nodded, sitting next to his expectant figure. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in anticipation, his muscles glistening with the small droplets of sweat that decorated his caramel skin.  His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his grey underwear, practically calling for your care. 

Attentively, you watched as his abdomen tensed up at the feeling of one of your hands pressing down against his clothed erection, delicately moving towards his crown. A gasp tumbled from his lips as you rolled your thumb against it, noticing the wetness that had already accumulated beneath your hand, and he rolled his hips against the pressure. Really, Jungkook was too precious. 

“Please, don’t tease,” he begged, eyes following your every move. His cock throbbed in your hands, needy. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer.” 

With a hum of agreement, you moved your hand away from his erection, and pulled his underwear down gently. Jungkook whimpered at the fiction, and the way his cock was freed from its constraints, bouncing back against his abdomen. The smallest of touches was more than enough for him to lose himself. 

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you calmed him down, slowly (too slowly) rolling the condom on him. His hands clenched into fists next to him, grabbing handfuls of the white sheets. Okay, maybe you were being a bit mean. “Just tell me what you want.” 

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a cry of frustration. “Ride me, please,” his words came out in a plea, his expression so permeated by need that you thought that he could cry if you teased him any further. God, everything was so perfect about him — the glistening in his onyx irises, the reddening of his lips as he bit down on them, trying to fight back a whimper as you placed yourself over him. “I— I need to feel you. I’m going crazy.” 

There was no need for more convincing — again, you weren’t made of steel. 

You sighed as you sank down on his member, one of your hands finding support against his pecs, as the other curled around his cock, guiding him inside you. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head against the alabaster pillow, his flower-like lips opening to cry out at the sensation. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s so good.” 

Seeing him like that, so submissive, so deliciously responsive to your faintest of touches, was, at the very least, extremely erotic. You loved to see the way he flinched and whined at the sensation of your walls clenching around him, his hands unsure of where they should be on your body. Awfully slow, you rose your hips from him, almost letting him slip out, before you shifted your weight back down, watching as Jungkook moaned out your name. 

God, he was really about to fall apart. 

Slowly, you began setting a pace, moving up and down on his cock. It was a lot slower than Jungkook expected, but it was just the right speed to make him appreciate every sensation of your body wrapping his own. 

“Feels good?” you asked, a bit breathless. The sensation of him filling you up was even better than you had anticipated, and, combined with his shameless exclamations of pleasure, you didn’t think that you’d last much longer either. 

Before he could answer, a tremulous sigh ruptured upon his mouth, reverberating just behind his teeth. Jungkook took another second to find his words, inhaling sharply. “So good,” he spoke, and you almost whined out at the lust that ornamented his voice. “Can you move faster? Please?” 

Maybe in different times, you’d take your time to provoke him a bit more. At that point, though, you’d do anything he wanted you to. “Yeah,” you agreed, doing as requested. The sound of your wetness and the slapping of skin against skin was lewd, filling the room alongside Jungkook’s voice. “Like this?”  

“Fuck, yeah, like this,” he cried out, closing his eyes in absolute euphoria. He could feel the movement of your asscheeks against his palms, the sensation enough to drive him insane. Jungkook was already amazed at the fact that he didn’t embarrass himself with premature ejaculation the second that you removed his underwear — but it didn’t mean that he didn’t get close to it. The second his hands squeezed your ass, he was positive he would end the game a bit earlier than the two of you would like. “It— it feels so good. Please, don’t stop.” 

With a moan, you threw your body forward, placing kisses on the curvature of his neck, a sensation that quickly sent shivers down his skin. The new angle made his cock hit even deeper inside you, causing for you both to melt in pleasure. “You feel so good,” you told him, nails digging against his flesh. The knot in your stomach was all too familiar, and you knew that you wouldn’t take much longer. “I love having you inside me.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” He mumbled, only half aware of the words leaving his lips. Jungkook’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, looking at nowhere in particular, his fingertips digging in your flesh. “You’re… you’re getting tighter.” 

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed, voice coming out in a moan. “I’m close.” 

He swallowed hard. “I can help,” he said. 

Before you could ask what he was trying to do, Jungkook moved his hand back to your center, two of his fingers playing with your clit. You gasped at the sensation, eyes closing as you kept riding him, rolling your hips, feeling as he reached for every part of you. It was all becoming too much, the pleasure that decorated his features, the  delicious friction of his body against yours, the frail moans that dropped from his tongue like honey. He was just too much. 

With a faint call of his name — a melody that would be stuck in his head forever —, you finally crossed the threshold of your orgasm, and came around him; morphing into a trembling and moaning mess. Jungkook watched, in absolute awe, as your face was monopolized by bliss, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip and your eyes rolling back. 

He removed his hand from your heat, placing it on your waist. Using every final ounce of energy in your body, you continued riding him. Through parted lids, you noticed that his thighs were starting to shake, signaling that he, too, was close. “Baby,” the boy called out, his fingers digging to the sides of your hips. Jungkook was both trying to guide your movements, and hold himself back to reality. It was a beautiful view — the way his expression lingered somewhere between delight and distress; his hips mindlessly trusting up against yours. “I think I’m gonna cum.” 

You breathed out through your nose, trying to ignore the pleasure that, now, was turning into sensitivity. It felt good, in a way, but you were more focused on his relief at that point. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you told him, “you can let go.”

He had been so polite the entire time, with his “please” and “thank you’s. So, of course, when you told him that it was okay for him to cum, he did just as you requested. 

Jungkook came with gasping breaths and a trembling, high-pitched moan, holding on to you as he thrusted his last sloppy advances towards your core. His hands, weak, fell on the bed besides him, clenching the sheets; eyelashes fluttering down as he dwelled on the afterglow of his pleasure. You could stay there forever, looking at the pink shade that colored his cheeks; the beautiful mess that his black hair had turned into; or the tears of relief that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. 

But everything has to end, even the most beautiful ones. 

His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his eyes, still hooded, met yours. Not even the biggest minds in the renaissance could’ve thought of an image so perfect, so ethereal. “You’re so amazing,” he praised. “That was… amazing.” 

You smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips. His member slipped out of you at the action, and his arms curled around your waist, keeping you in place. “You did pretty well,” you mumbled as you lazily curled up against his chest. Jungkook’s body was a delicious source of heat, and you could really get used to that. “I see a bright future ahead of you.”

He hummed, caressing your hair. Jungkook could finally smell it without being creepy, so that was a big victory for him. “You did most of the work,” he said. 

“That’s not an issue.” You nuzzled his neck, pleasantly feeling as goosebumps spread throughout his body. Always so responsive. “I’ll let you take the lead next time, if that sounds good to you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’d be great, yeah,” he agreed. Part of him thought about using a few tricks he learned during his late-night research, but he wasn’t super sure that it would be a good idea. Maybe he should keep that card up his sleeve for a bit longer in case he needed to surprise you later. “Do you want to spend the night? It’s kind of late to go back to your place now.”

The words fell from his tongue with ease, surprising the boy for an instant. He noticed that he was much more comfortable in your presence, like the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Not because of the sex itself, he realized, but because of the vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It happened just as it was supposed to. 

 “I’d love to.” You smiled, and placed a kiss against his neck. “But I’m going to kick you out if you start snoring.” 

“Out of my own place?” He asked. 

You sighed, voice filled by traces of your upcoming slumber. “Don’t you test me,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him. “Medical school is killing me, I need some sleep. And I will get it no matter the price.” 

Jungkook laughed at your tired words, one of his hands caressing your head in infinite delicacy. As he held to your body, curling so perfectly against his own, he knew that everything would be okay. And maybe he needed a good night of sleep too. 

A few minutes later, as he started to feel the sensation of his consciousness slowly drifting away to the land of dreams, a bittersweet sentiment overtook his chest. There was an instant, even if ephemeral, in which Jungkook believed he would never see Yoongi and Taehyung again — after all, the two had already concluded their mission: Jungkook got the girl and there was nothing else left for them to do. In between two consecutive breaths, he felt both relief and solitude. Silence wasn’t as welcoming once he realized no voice could break it. 

Though, his melodramatic moment was short-lived. Behind him, a known timbre cheered for him:

“I’m so proud, I feel like a soccer mom.”

[irispublishersagriculture]

Iris Publishers - World Journal of Agriculture and Soil Science (WJASS)

Growth Response of Heterobranchus Longifilis Fingerlings Fed Diets Supplemented with Moringa Oleifera Leaf Meal as Replacement of Soybean Meal

Authored by Ibiyo Lenient MO

Aquaculture is the fastest growing sector of the world‘s animal production with an annual increase of about 10% [1]. To sustain such high rates of increase in production, a matching increase in fish feed production is imperative. Because fish meal is a limited primary source and plants are widely available and reasonably priced, the use of plant protein sources in aqua feeds should be considered [2]. Therefore, in order to attain more economically sustainable, environmentally friendly and viable production, research interest has been directed towards the evaluation and use of non-conventional sources of plant and animal protein. Soybean meal is one of the most nutritious of all plant protein sources because of its high protein content, high digestibility, and relatively well-balanced ami no acid profile [3]. Owing to its reasonable price and steady supply, soybean meal is widely used as a cost-effective feed ingredient for most aquaculture species [4]. It is currently the most commonly used plant protein source in fish feeds [5]. However, soybean meal use in animal feeds competes with human food use, and hence there is a need to identify other protein-rich plant resources that could be used in fish diets. Another potential alternative plant protein source for fish feeds is moringa (Moringa oleifera). This plant is receiving much attention because its leaves, flowers and seeds can all be used as food [6]. Moringa leaf contains crude protein (CP) with about 260g/kg of leaf, of which about 87% is true protein [7]. Essential amino acids found in moringa leaf are methionine, cyste-ine, typtophan and lysine [6]. Analyses of the leaf composition have revealed them to have significant quantities of vitamins A, B and C, calcium, iron and protein. According to Optima of Africa, Ltd., a group that has been working with the tree in Tanzania, “25 grams daily of Moringa Leaf Powder (MLP) will give a child” the following recommended daily allowances: Protein 42%, Calcium 125%, Magnesium 61%, Potassium 41%, Iron 71%, Vitamin A 272%, and Vitamin C 22%. A comparison between the amino acid composition of raw moringa leaf and that of soybean revealed an almost identical pattern of the essential amino acids [8]. There is an abundant total amount of these essential amino acids plenty in the leaf that can be used as animal feed [9]. The objective of this present experiment was to investigate the effect of different levels of dietary moringa leaf meal as a partial replacement of full fat soybean meal in the diet of Heterobranchus longifilis, (giant African catfish) fingerlings on the growth performance, nutrient digestibility, hematology and liver histopathology.

Materials and Methods

Preparation of Moringa olifera leaf meal (MLM)

The M. oleifera leaves used in the diets was harvested whole in NIFFR Estate, New Bussa, Niger State and air dried under the shade. The whole leaves harvested were allowed to wilt under the shade overnight after which mere shaking it help the leaflets to drop out of the stalk before final drying. This was to avoid the stalk of the leaves mixing up with the leaflets needed and reduce fibre contribution from the MLM into the diets. The leaflets were milled to powder after they have properly dried which was used for the preparation of the experimental diets (Plate 1).

Experimentation

Three Hundred Heterobranchus longifilis fingerlings were acquired and acclimatized for three weeks before selection and subjection to the experiment. Completely randomized design with three replicate groups was used to study the response of 150 Heterobranchus longifilis fingerlings to diets supplemented with graded levels (0, 5, 10, 15 or 20)% of Moringa leaf meal (MLM) to replace soybean meal in a soybean and fish meal based diet together with other ingredients (Table 1). The 42 days study was carried out in an aerated aquaria using indoor at the fish nutrition laboratory in NIFFR feed mill complex. Diet 1 with a zero supplementation served as control. Chemical analysis such as phytochemicals in leaf considering tannin and phytic acid determination, proximate composition (AOAC, 2000), hematology, histopathology of feed and fish samples were carried out. Digestibility was also assessed. Fish were fed at 5% body weight at commencement of the study in the first 2 weeks but was reduced to 3% body weight when much leftover feeds were observed which could be due to Heterobranchus feed consumption nature which is poor. The daily rations were divided into two installments, supplied morning (8.00 - 9.00 am) and evening (6.00 – 7.00 pm). Siphoning of the bottom of the aquaria was carried out each morning and addition of freshwater to maintain water level before feeding the fish. Fortnight sampling was adopted for feed adjustments, fish observation and total cleaning of the aquaria. Water quality was monitored in the course of the study using easy test kit. Feed cost was calculated based on the prevailing market prices of the ingredients at the period of experimentation. Statistical analysis was carried out on the data obtained at the end of the study.

Discussions

The results of this study indicated that M. olifera leaves possess the potential to partially replace soybean meal in any soybean and fishmeal base diet for giant African catfish (H. longifilis) without adversely affecting growth performance, digestibility and pathology of the fish. This is in agreement with earlier studies on Oreochromis niloticus by Richter et al. [12] and Abo-State et al. [13] who used MLM to replace fishmeal in the diets of the fish and found out that MLM could replace fishmeal up to 10% and 8% respectively in tilapia. Moringa leaf meal (MLM) could be used to reduce pressure on soybean meal. Hardy 2010 noted that soybean is currently the most commonly used plant protein sources in fish feed and there is competition with human use. Using MLM to reduce pressure on soybean will be possible because comparison between the amino acids of MLM and soybean revealed an almost identical pattern of all the essential amino acids [8]. The observation of reduced growth performance, digestibility and poorer FCR at higher inclusion level in this present study is an indication that there is a limit to the extent which MLM could be included in the diet of giant African catfish to avoid negativity in performance. This is similar to what was earlier reported on O. niloticus [12,13]. The poor performance at higher levels might not be unconnected to the antinutritional factors present in the raw moringa leaf. Although the MLM used in this study was air dried before use, the phytochemical analysis revealed that the phytic acids and tannin were still present in the diets though at low levels. The poor performance observed in the groups that fed on diets with higher inclusion levels of MLM might be related to the likely interaction of the antinutritional factors with utilization of other nutrients in the feeds [6]. The poor Hb and PCV levels obtained in the groups that fed on the highest MLM supplementation level might have been due to interactive effect of phytochemicals against the fish natural body functional ability to neutralize or suppress the deleteriousness of certain ingested chemicals. The appreciable digestibility of protein obtain in this study might be due to the drying process the leaf undergo before its use, the equal fishmeal levels and palm oil as a source of lipids in the diets with the fact that it is plant protein portion that was replaced. Palm oil has a natural tendency to neutralize the efficacy of poisonous substances like the one that could result from the antinutritional factors such as the tannins and phytic substances in the MLM. It had also been noted that antinutrients such as tannins and saponins inflicts bitterness in feeds and could results in poor consumption [2] due to reaction of the chemosensory receptors [14]. That might happen at high levels of inclusion which could result to high concentration of those antinutrients and subsequent effective bitterness since the intake in this study did not exhibit such criteria as there was no significant difference in feed intake. Although increased level resulted into poor feed conversion ratio which might not be unconnected to the carnivorous-ominivorous nature of the giant African catfish and tannins interaction with utilization of nutrients in feeds. The effective cost reduction also observed in the formulations with MLM is an indication that it could be used to replace some soybean in the diets of giant African catfish at the optimum level of 5-10% replacement.

In conclusion, MLM could be used to partially replace up to 5 - 10% of the full fat soybean meal in the diet of giant African catfish, Heterobranchus longifilis fingerlings without reduction in the growth performance of the fish. The MLM use will also lead to reduction in cost of fish feed. Using the best performing supplementation level (5%) will result to a cost reduction of 11.5% per cost of 100Kg feed base on the formulations used in this study while the 10% optimum level of supplementation will result to feed cost reduction of 23.2% per cost of 100Kg feed [15]. The cost to benefit ratio obtained in the study encourages the use of 5% level of replacement. There is need to subject moringa leaves to other processing methods for another trial to see if there could be improvement from what was obtained in this present study. There is need to evaluate the response of Clarias species to moringa leaf inclusion in the diet

 To read more about this articlehttps: //irispublishers.com/wjass/fulltext/growth-response-of-heterobranchus.ID.000601.php

Indexing List of Iris Publishers: https://medium.com/@irispublishers/what-is-the-indexing-list-of-iris-publishers-4ace353e4eee

Iris publishers google scholar citations: https://scholar.google.co.in/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C5&q=irispublishers&btnG=

[thefools-journey]

The Tarot in Love

AKA QUICK TAROT META

So. Apparently a lot of Arcana fans don’t understand or know the connection between the LIs and their tarot cards. This will be a quick primer on said tarot cards and how they influence the LI routes. It’s important to note that most cards have multiple domains and influences. The type of reading, the question posed, and the other cards within the reading will determine which domain or influence is being accessed.

Before we start, note that every single LI begins their route on the Reversed Path. A Reversed Card in this game means that the card’s energy is stuck and something is preventing its full expression.

ASRA THE MAGICIAN

The Magician’s main domains circle Action. The Magician knows what he wants and goes after it, damn the consequences. If he is committed and willing, he makes miracles happen. He is the kinetic energy to the High Priestess’ potential energy. As the MC says in the prologue when they pull this card (for Nadia), this card signals that the time to act is now. 

Asra begins his route full of inaction. Sure, he seems like he is on the go and doing things but in reality, he is paralyzed. He has allowed his ties to Muriel and Nadia decay in favor of the MC. He hasn’t acted on vital information only he knows. He has lost his purpose, his drive, for knowledge, for love, etc. Some of this is down to his caregiver role with the MC - Asra cannot act or do much of anything in that quarter without risking the MC's health. Most of it is down to the year from hell ™ where Asra learned just how far he will go and just how powerful and ruthless he can be for those he loves. The year from hell ™ demonstrates exactly what the Magician is made to do. Asra scared himself really badly here. So he starts the route in a sort of limbo. Key to his Upright ending is widening his world, making the Magician understand that what he fights for is not just himself, his narrow goals, and loves but something much bigger.

NADIA THE HIGH PRIESTESS

The High Priestess deals in a few interlocking domains. She guards the boundaries between the mundane and the mysterious. She is the great potential waiting to be unlocked. Arguably, she is magic itself. She is the inner voice, that gut feeling, that intuition you cannot explain but know is right. She asks you to trust that part of yourself.

Nadia's route is arguably the best balanced in terms of the magical and mundane storylines. This is no accident. This balance is fundamental to the High Priestess' domain. When her route begins, Nadia trusts no one, not even herself. Thanks to missing nine years’ worth of memories, she understandably feels adrift. She has no idea what is going on and who to trust. Nadia’s only real tethers, and they are tenuous ones, are to Portia and the MC, the latter of whom she hopes can somehow help her. The year from hell ™ even if she no longer remembers it, also played a large role in starting her down the Reversed path. More than once, Nadia admits to withdrawing, emotionally, physically, and mentally, from the outside world as a way to cope. This was not a strategic or necessary withdrawal as her Birthday memory makes clear: together with Asra and Julian, the three of them could have held together and figured out a path forward. It wouldn’t have been easy, of course. But the very real danger in Nadia’s route is her belief that she and she alone must make things right, which goes against the High Priestess’ ways. The High Priestess sees potential in all around her. If Nadia turns away from that part of her which begs her listen and reach out, she is truly lost. Nadia’s Upright Ending requires her to find balance between what she can know and what she must simply have faith in, to be the boundary between the known and unknown. It requires her to learn how to trust not only others but herself again.

MURIEL THE HERMIT

The Hermit is searching for something. Not something from the outer world but something from within. Some mystery needs solving, some understanding needs creating, a higher call needs answering. He turns inward for answers, though he will seek or receive guidance from trusted sources. Through his search, he will create a still center, a solid, unbreakable foundation to call upon in times of high action and stress. Through this struggle, the Hermit can become that guide for others, focusing and directing their own journeys.

Muriel's route is the most fascinating and difficult of the routes because the Hermit's journey is by definition an internal one. Want to know why his route is so wrapped up in taking him out of his every day world and forcing him to discover his past? That’s why; it is a way of externalizing the very internal struggle for validation and focus the Hermit embodies. When his route begins, Muriel very literally has withdrawn from the world. And not just any world, but a world craving his experience and expertise. Of all the characters, Muriel has the most information on what is happening and why, above and beyond even Asra. Muriel holds the keys to so many happy endings and yet, he has chosen to be forgotten and isolated. As with Nadia, this retreat was not a strategic one but one borne of fear. Muriel has the knowledge and allies to handle the challenges which he faces. What he lacks and what he is building in his route is the internal fortitude, the stable foundation necessary to not only survive the challenges which come for him but to thrive and defeat them. The genius of this route’s Upright Ending is that the MC is building this fortitude right alongside Muriel, guiding him and being guided in turn. The MC protects Muriel, guiding him back into the larger world with a caring hand and back to rely on. In turn, Muriel answers the higher calling within himself to face the Devil. He solidifies his foundational revelations and becomes a guide in turn towards the Devil’s defeat. Make no mistake, when the foundation is as rock hard as that pair will be, the fiercest storm is no match.

JULIAN THE HANGED MAN

The Hanged Man is a card of waiting, potentiality, and knowing surrender. Some say it is a card of martyrdom but really it’s a card about sacrificing and letting go, winning through stepping back and allowing things to happen to you. The Hanged Man suspends action, waiting for some unknown or a revelation. Through the paradox of stepping back or surrendering, the Hanged Man finds what he needs to achieve victory. When you see the Hanged Man in a general reading, it’s asking you whether the actions you’re taking are having the opposite effect that you intended. It asks you to let go and step back. 

Julian begins his route like he begins most things: with a dramatic flair just before he faceplants. Julian is flailing every which way with no rhyme or reason. Because he has lost so much control over his life, he tightens his grip on what little he can control. He leads the MC on, then unceremoniously drops them before they can drop him or be hurt. He has taken the entire world and all its consequences on his shoulders. Julian feels out of control and unable to slow down, process, and wait. Most of his restless catastrophizing stems from the year from hell ™- he watched countless thousands die, failed to stop it, and woke up with no memory and a murderer’s brand on his hand. It’s only when he begins to let go, to allow people to make their own decisions and minds towards him that things start to turn around for him. His Upright Ending rewards players who reinforce the Hanged Man’ lessons: you cannot control everything, nor should you try, and sometimes it’s doing what feels wrong (in his case, letting others help him shoulder his burdens, just try to count how many times he says something along the line of ‘it’s wrong for others to want to help me’) that leads to victory.

LUCIO THE DEVIL

The Devil is a card about power and control, who and what has it in your life. This can manifest in a myriad of ways, from feeling out of control to obsessing over things and people to actively controlling others. The Devil is usually a warning card, a sign that something or someone has an unhealthy hold over you (or that you have an unhealthy hold over someone). The Devil also deals in materialism and the obsession with status. Again, this goes back to the power and control domains. Some interpretations also add ignorance to the Devil’s domain, which can also be traced back to his control domain. If you are unaware of something, you cannot take control of it. The Devil asks you to reevaluate and reassess what and who you allow to have power in your life. It asks you to retake responsibility for your own destiny.

Lucio begins his route as a literal shade of a man, a shell of his former self, unable to interact with the world he so slavishly desires. This is the debt he has accumulated through a lifetime of irresponsibility, an obsession with instant gratification, and a desperate need to be seen by others as powerful, desirable, and control. In his quest to become the most powerful man on the planet, he has instead wound up with nothing, completely ignorant as to the cause of his circumstances. This is why he is stuck as the Devil's least favorite whipping boy. If Lucio had taken responsibility and come clean, even back when he was dying, he could have avoided the worst of his problems. As it stands, he is still dodging responsibility, allowing his obsessions to dominate his life, and ensuring his mistakes continue to compound against him. That is why getting him to own up and regain control of himself is key to his Upright Ending. It sounds cruel but that hard, grinding self reflection is the only way he stands a chance of fully, utterly breaking his chains.

PORTIA THE STAR

The Star is a card of peace, hope, clarity, and truth. It is that small light in the dark, asking you to endure the night. It tells you that you have the tools to do so. Keep your hope, find your peace, and hold to your truth. The end of your journey is in sight. It is a card of seeing and knowing, not action.

I already wrote a huge meta on Portia's route and how her status as the Star impacts it. Portia begins her route hurting from and hoarding secrets. She wants to find the truth but has given up almost all hope of uncovering it. Despite knowing the costs of keeping people in the dark, Portia continues doing so, a silent observer too paralyzed and overwhelmed to act on the truths she knows. The most obvious demonstration of this is her dealings with Nadia. Portia has worked with her for months but hasn't told her about Julian, her literacy, and her invitation. Telling Nadia these truths would solve several of Portia's problems but she can't bring herself to do it due to fear. Her route is all about truths, exposing them or hiding them. Key to her Upright ending is getting her to act on her truths and bring them to light. Knowing the truth isn’t enough if you aren’t willing to act on it.

-Telos

[beesatthedisco]

How does this even work...

Okay, so I’ve been on tumblr since before the first time they very slightly changed the shade of blue and I hope that in and of itself is enough to help y’all know... I’m ancient. (I’m 27, and will only rp with ppl 18+, sorry friendos)

Somehow, despite being on tumblr and despite having made about a million accounts for various things in my day, I’ve not made an RP account, and don’t really know how to get started. I guess I’m just gonna put down what I know about myself and what I’m looking for here and hope for the best, but I’d be open to any kind of protips from those of you who have been using tumblr to find rp for much longer.

RIP to your eyes ahead of time, this is a long post. If you want to skip to the part where I share my Original plots, pairings, and fandom cravings, please just scroll to the end and accept my humble apologies. (Highkey I copied this out of my google doc, don’t shoot me.)

I enjoy writing both original plots and fandom stuff. When RPing within a fandom setting, I'm open to playing as canons, as ocs, or any combination of both. I'm open to co-creating settings inspired but not based in fandoms, and open to playing AU or canon settings as well. When originals are involved, I prefer co-creating our worlds together, so we're both invested in the landscape that our characters inhabit. Speaking of characters- I'll play as any gender and in any pairing type- I hope that this is the same for you. I love writing a broad spectrum of characters to keep things interesting for myself and to practice viewing the world through different perspectives. I feel it's difficult to do this when being forced or pigeonholed into writing as a gender you DEMAND of me. However... I can be flexible, and if your ideas are interesting enough, I may just give you what you ask for anyways, haha. I'm perfectly open to playing multiple characters, whether it's a broad interactive cast of mains and background characters, a system of noninteracting or separate sets of doubles, triples, you name it, or whatever other configuration of multiple-character-playing you prefer.

I'm not too terribly concerned about post lengths and am open to writing with people who might be new to the RP scene. I'm pretty flexible about how much I'll write. A good rule of thumb for myself is that I tend to respond with more when I have more to work with. That doesn't always mean that there are more words on your post for me to respond to; instead, I mean that if your post has enough ideas, inspiration, and momentum, I can go buckwild with my posts. My comfort zone seems to be around 4-6 paragraphs per post, but I've been known to write either a lot more in particularly thrilling rps. If I'm writing a huge post- don't feel daunted or expected to match length. I love all sized posts!!! I'm just overly enthusiastic and get carried away sometimes. (This means you can also at any time tell me to chill out on how much I'm writing. ) When it comes to writing style, I only have a few hard expectations of you- I do not engage in roleplay featuring the 'would' style of writing. (For example: "She would pick up the rock and inspect it closely.") I don't exactly know why I dislike this tense so much, but it pulls me right out of the immersion of writing/reading and tends to entirely destroy my interest in the story. I'm sorry. Next, I care at least a little about punctuation and spellchecking. If you're roleplaying online, you have access to ways to make sure that you're not just submitting gibberish. If you need help finding those resources... feel free to ask!

I'm open to the idea of making profiles for our characters, but I'm okay without making them too. I'm also vaguely ambivalent to 'beautifying' our posts, should we do them somewhere that allows that sort of thing. I'm fine with any style of reference images, or with not using them at all. I can't promise I won't send you songs and images and memes that remind me of our story, though! Also- I'm super down for dice systems if we decide to go that route (and prefer dice systems if we include combat of any variety in our story.) I love romance, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the drive of our plot if that's not your style. My favorite genres to write in are science fiction, any variety of fantasy, horror, drama, historical settings, wild western settings, and mysteries.

Last but not least, I tend to like making friends with my writing partners. I prefer writing with people I actually get along with, so for me, the plotting phase is the most important. It helps me get to know your personality a bit more, and you mine, so we both know whether or not it's a good match to write long term! I'll write on most platforms, so let's discuss what makes the most sense for us. Finally, I generally only write with folks 18+, for the safety of everyone involved. Thanks for understanding.

Well, as I said, I've got a big ol list of ideas, if any of this strikes you as 'good writing friend' material, so send me a DM and I'll get back to you asap! Feel free to share your ideas too!!!

Original Ideas

- There's something dire down in the mines to the east of this old Western town. Folks keep goin' in to investigate, disappearin' for days at a time, then comin' back all different-like with the lights gone from their eyes. What could be happenin' out there, sheriff? (horror/western)

- A high-fantasy world's balance is shattered when the source of magic is destroyed. How will the people of this mystical land navigate a now mundane life, and how can they survive when so many magical devices go defunct and awry?

- A no-magic world is suddenly spun into chaos: an apocalyptic event leads to the sudden introduction of magic into a world that had previously never known it. In the post-apocalyptic (and mystically-charged) ashes of a world that once was, how do the survivors compete for resources and control?

- A star falls from the sky! They're rare, and it's dangerous to be one. Are you the star, hunted and lost? Or are you someone who finds a star?

- A lich (my character) is rumored to live in the castle at the foot of the mountains, only a mile or so from your town. It's said they're a true villain, the worst of the worst... but what is the truth?

-Arranged Marriages between physical embodiments of the seasons or planets

- There's something dire down in the mines to the east of this old Western town. Folks keep goin' in to investigate, disappearin' for days at a time, then comin' back all different-like with the lights gone from their eyes. What could be happenin' out there, sheriff? (horror/western)

-A sailor, pirate, or other seafarer keeps noticing the same shape in the waters near their ship. After a terrible storm, the ship wrecks… now, one’s a mermaid, one’s a sailor, and they’re both idiots trying to find their way back home.

-Disaster has struck! A grisly assassination attempt leads a bodyguard to quickly usher their liege to safety. Drama ensues!

-Stowaways, and the people who catch 'em!

- Androids and more androids! Or... androids and non-androids!

-In a dwindling-magic world, those who cling to the olde magicks and the old way of living struggle against the new capitalist society and its nonmagic technology. In one still-magickal neighborhood where our story takes place, shopkeepers fight against nonmagickal gentrification in an effort to keep their businesses, communities, and traditions alive.

- A wandering traveler gets caught in a storm and chances upon an abandoned home, castle, or manor.... oh no!

- A train hopping crust punk encounters the ghost of a fellow train-hopper who fell under the rails and died.

- A living person's computer, gaming device, or phone is inhabited by a flirty ghost!

- There's a friendly but sad ghost living in a living person's new home! (Can you tell I like ghosts?)

Original (and corny) pairing ideas

fairy or elf / vampire or other dark creature

vampire / human

god / mortal

demon / angel or other dark/light archetypical pairings

dragon / humanoid

naval captain / stowaway

mob boss / citizen

superhero / supervillain

serial killer / investigator

serial killer / citizen

Bounty hunter/outlaw

outlaw/sherriff

outlaw/outlaw

farmhand/outlaw

Current Fandom Interests/Cravings

Pokemon - preferably with ocs and in a custom setting ft. all the ‘mons/us playing as humans

Elder Scrolls - pls, i’m craving this almost more than anything, and have been for years

Red Dead Redemption - it is cowboy time now

Legend of Zelda - i have a couple of cute ideas for this!

Avatar/Legend of Korra

Labyrinth - please please please someone play jareth for me, ill give you my firstborn in exchange

Star Wars - currently a little burned out on playing as kylo for everyone, so please don’t ask me to be him dlfkjdslfj

Game of Thrones

Lord of the Rings

Night in the Woods

Brutal Legend - does anyone but me remember this??? Omfg lets rp in this setting PLS

The Dragon Prince

[awed-frog]

When you say romance should be 18 and over do you mean the brand of romance we know today (aka toxic) or romance as a whole? If we wrote healthy romance aimed at younger crowds or presented unhealthy behaviour as unhealthy behaviour in regular romance (for older crowds) would that be a good solution?

Well - I see three questions here, all of them incredibly complex and beyond interesting: should art be political and is censorship ever a good idea and also is the romance genre okay? The answer to all of them, in my opinion, is ‘no but’.

1) Should art be political?

The stupid thing is, art is inherently political, whether you want it to or not, but art that’s deliberately political tends to be awful, and that’s a universal truth both for left-wing stuff and for right-wing stuff. When you willingly create political stuff, what you’re crafting is propaganda, and proganda is generally sad and bad. I guess there is propaganda that’s also good art - Victor Hugo’s The Man Who Laughs comes to mind - but the problem is, not all of us are Victor Hugo. 

That said, since whatever we create is political (because man is a social animal) and will have some kind of moral message, yes - ideally we want more art with an ethically ‘good’ moral message than we want garbage, because art (and here I include everything: books, movies and so on) is perhaps the most effective and impactful mind-shaper ever. That’s why Disney is doing its very best to be a monopoly, after all. But: I don’t have a good solution for how to ensure art is nice. I think art is nice when artists are nice, and artists are nice when they grow up in good, healthy societies. So the more a society rots from the inside out, the more likely it is you’ll find art that’s also rotten. I mean, while romance as a genre was always a bit dodgy (see below), what that article was talking about - the rise of the possessive, violent boyfriend and domestic abuse as the great love story - is sort of a recent phenomenon, and goes hand in hand with the deterioration of women’s rights in (Western) society. 

(As an aside, I’m not sure I agree (young) women are necessarily misogynistic for reading crap like Fiftfy Shades: I think (young) women are exhausted. Fifty Shades is, more than anything, an ode to undeserved capitalism - the only kind that seems open as an option today. After all, we know trickle-down capitalism doesn’t work and most of us will toil and toil for very little; Christian Grey is the antidote to that, the guy who shows up, basically kidnaps you, and smothers you in a life of riches for which the only thing you must do in return is give up. Having someone else decide on your job, your car, your possessions and clothes, where you’ll live, what you’ll eat and when, whether you’ll take birth control (lol: obviously not), when you’ll see your friends and family plus when and how you’ll orgasm - what women tried to escape for generations is suddenly the dream for many of us - not because of any new political ideology, but because we’re beyond tired. Women, like men, are now crushed in a neverending cycle of bs, underpaid jobs, and are apparently fed up enough in taking responsibility for anything that not only romance and ‘superhuman’ characters are booming, but a very specific kind of subset of that: essentially, slave fics. 

Just give up your agency, and you’ll be taken care of and cherished - forever.

I understand a kink is not the same as your actual political opinion, but still - I’m not enthusiastic about this trend, and I’m even less enthusiastic when it gobbles up young women who haven’t had time to experience real life relationships.)

No, I think that in the end, the answer is - if you reverse the rotting of society, automatically - statistically - you’ll get healthier artists and a healthier audience. So, really, the fight is always the same: better paid jobs, better (and free) schools, more opportunities for continued education of any kind, more democracy and transparency, more green spaces and better living conditions.

2) Is censorship ever a good idea?

Sadly, no. You’d think the logical conclusion of what I just said would be, ‘In the meantime, let’s ban the most dangerous stuff’ or something, and while part of me is tempted to support that, censorship has a way of ending very badly no matter how good and noble your intentions are.

(Self-censorship should be more of a thing, though: not everything that goes through our minds deserves to be seen and shared.)

What sucks at the moment is that on the one hand, capitalism is operating its own censorship; and on the other, its desperate search for new markets has led to a disastrous disintegration of actual human interactions.

So, problem one is that we only publish and market what makes a lot of money, and while that’s normal, to an extent, the result today is that everything is ‘almost the same’ as the previous thing (think sequels, prequels, remakes, obnoxious book covers for books that are basically all the same). So if ‘asshole boyfriend who beats you up’ suddenly makes money, it becomes very hard to escape the trope, because what will be offered to you everywhere is exactly that. This was less of a thing back when our main sources of entertainment were shared (movie theaters, the one family TV, school libraries and so on); now, it’s an epidemic, and as we see with Youtube algorithms, a dangerous one, because this obsession with watching and rewatching ‘almost the same’ inevitably leads to more and more extreme stuff.

Meanwhile, problem two is that the more tailor-made our entertainment is, the less we connect to real people. I know I sound about 90 here, but when all family members are glued to a different screen - mom watching the 50th remake of Eat, Pray, Love, dad down the rabbithole of lizard conspiracy theories, big brother now exploring some milk&peanut butter weirdness on Youporn and younger sister 30 fics deep into Stucky high school AUs - what do they have in common? What do they talk about? What can they even learn from each other? Until recently, and for aeons, fiction was shared, and its primary goal was to form a connection between group members. Now, that’s gone. We destroyed it, without even realizing what we were doing, in the space of twenty years. And yeah - I know you can create new communities, but a) these communities are virtual (which means, for the most part: not real) and b) they tend to connect like with like, which is comforting, perhaps, but not very useful. The whole point here is that we need to learn how to feel empathy and trust for those who’re different, and build a community with them - instead, what the internet is doing is isolating us inside our little bubbles, so much so that any minor disagreement is now seen as good reason to break off contact.

Censorship, however, doesn’t solve any of this. For starters, we need more regulation on how big corporations can get, what social media companies can and can’t do and who can access what kind of material. And it’d be great if we could all unplug a little, but uh - fat chance of that.

3) Is the romance genre okay?

Again, just my opinion, but personally, I mistrust it. There are no romance books for men? Instead, books for men feature a Main Character doing stuff and improving himself while accidentally meeting a Sexy Lamp he can go home to at the end of the story. And, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but isn’t this a healthier way to look at life? While good relationships are very meaningful (or even the most meaningful) part of any human life, if your goal is to get them, they won’t grow right. You shouldn’t be hyperfocused on finding love; I think it’s much better to be like Main Character: you work on your drawing skills, try a new sport, read poetry, defeat evil Russians, thus developing inner happiness and self-confidence, thus leading you towards towards a partner who’ll fall in love with who you are - not a partner who was looking for some empty shell to fill with their own expectations and preferences.

And I know - romance books and movies are full of exciting non-romantic events and stuff - but still, the fact they’re classified and intended as romance does imply that finding a romantic partner is the ultimate goal. Which, I don’t know, I don’t think it’s healthy, and is a particularly inappropriate message for young women. After all, why is it okay that young men are encouraged to go on ghost hunts, study dinosaurs and save the world while young women are taught to wait around for a broken (possibly violent, but it’s not his fault) bad boy only they can fix? It’s messed up, is what it is, and I may be extreme here, but even the tamest, sweetest romance revolves around the same message: that you’re not complete on your own, and that you should focus on relationships as a way to become a better, happier human being. 

Now, as much as I love this quote -

“It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.” — Oscar Wilde

- obviously there’s no direct cause-and-effect here - you don’t read one book and become a mindless Stepford wife - so I’m not saying, ‘no one should read romance ever’. It’s just - as I said in that other post, we should all enjoy diverse stuff. Read your romance novels, but also read the classics, read some philosophy, a random poem, a badly-written thriller - read Stephen King, read how the OED was written, or a Wikipedia article on the French resistance - anything and everything. Because of capitalism, because of this push towards personalized entertainment, we’re being forced and pigeonholing ourselves in smaller and smaller cages, and the worst thing is - we’re comfortable inside them, because this is the awful truth: cages are comfortable, and that’s why we need to get out before we forget what cages are for.

[As a final point: you say ‘if we wrote’, does it mean you’re an aspiring writer? If so, you shouldn’t worry about any of this. You write what you want, you write the stories you want to read. Just remember to get out of your cage as well - experience, discover, grow, read, dare - and then put all that into your books. I’m sure they’ll be great, whatever your favourite genre.]

[imaginativecrime]

7 reasons The Witcher series is a mess (or damn I need to vent)

Unpopular opinion time! For the record, I’ve read the books, played the games, hell, I’ve binged the Polish movie and series (because my love for Michal Zebrowski and Zbigniew Zamachowski is undying, sue me), and I was super hyped. Then I spent the entire series yelling at the TV, so I made a handy numbered list of the reasons why I personally consider it mediocre at best.

Because I’m fucking disappointed and I’ll never not be bitter about it. Fact.

Be warned, there are all sorts of spoilers below.

Let’s look at some of the issues that affected the show as a whole:

1) Adaptation is hard work - but you have to do it right

Adapting a story from one medium to another is difficult, you inevitably have to change things to make it suitable to the new form of expression and also, everybody wants their adaptation to be unique, to emphasize points they think are important, to reflect on the current times, you name it. But changes in an adaptation should make sense and lend themselves to the storytelling.

Many changes in the series were arbitrary, nonsensical and contributed absolutely nothing. One such example is the Battle of Sodden Hill, a terribly executed “siege” with not enough extras to fill a classroom instead of a battle of 100 000 people. Writing out Redania, Aedirn and the Brotherhood of Sorcerers from the conflict doesn’t seem to have a point to it, while the delayed arrival of the armies of Temeria and Kaedwen is both unexplained, unlikely and underwhelming, not to mention that it completely undermines the Nilfgaardian threat as a whole. This, of course, is just the tip of the iceberg of all the things that are wrong with Sodden Hill in the series. 

Or take Foltest and his affair with Adda. It is perfectly clear in the books that after seven years of wizards, witchers and all manner of frauds coming and going while Foltest is obsessed with breaking the curse instead of killing his daughter, even the very last blind and deaf peasant knows about his shenanigans. It’s only logical, too. The story is relayed to Geralt in no uncertain terms at the very beginning. Now in the show the whole episode is too short to set up a murder mystery that requires Geralt’s incredible detective skills (uhuh) to unravel. What is worse is that you cannot make a big reveal of something that your audience actually has previous knowledge about. So why even bother to have Foltest deny it and have Geralt beat it out of Ostrit? 

Which brings us to point two:

2) We all know which way to Temeria, don’t we?

Even if you have popular source material, you cannot expect everyone to know it. An adaptation has to consider people who are just getting their first introduction to the sandbox. When your lore is as rich as that of the Witcher, you need time and careful effort to set up your world. The show made a total shit job of this one. As in the above example, sometimes the show ignores that we, as an audience, know things. 

Another example is Vilgefortz. We know him, his plans, abilities and allegiances, we have very specific expectations of his character. Besides completely failing these expectations (and doing a very unconvincing early reveal of his true colors), the show goes as far as taking Vilgefortz’s iconic sentence (You mistake stars reflected in a pond for the night sky.) and putting it in Fringilla’s mouth. Like did they actually think we wouldn’t notice? Or not be pissed?

At other times the show expects us to fill in its glaring blanks exactly by knowing our lore and characters. One obvious, overarching example of this is the issue of the separate timelines, that sometimes left even fans a little confused. Also, fun fact: one of my friends (who has no idea about anything in the Witcher’s world) for instance needed some time to realize Pavetta wasn’t, in fact, a grown-up Ciri, and he remains to this day very confused about Blaviken.

Basically, we are on a swing here, which is actually made even worse by another thing: bad pacing.

3) Hold your Roach for a moment

The first season wants to cram too much into its limited time and it has a severe negative impact on worldbuilding and character development. By bringing in all three timelines from the beginning, the show has to juggle time allotted to each. 

To be frank, Ciri’s timeline at this point consists of a lot of running and screaming, which in itself hardly merits all the time we spend with her. It could have been utilized in part to provide us with a view of the war from ‘below’, to show that beyond the high politics and heroic battles there are burned villages, dead peasants, people who lost everything, cripples, deserters, ruined fields, and so on. Instead, we get one refugee camp of neat tents, actual beds, food and complaints about Calanthe (though not of dead husbands, lost homes or winter). Though I guess it should come as no surprise that the shock value of paint being made from a woman’s reproductory organs (that never happened in the books) is more important than actual large scale human suffering.

Now giving Yennefer an extended back story is great. But by that level of extension once again time is being consumed that is taking other opportunities away. Opportunities like giving Geralt himself a bit more background, clarifying points for fresh faces in the audience, giving characters more time for meaningful interaction. Because there is not enough time to let the story breathe and progress naturally, episodes are often rushed, choppy, and shallow. 

4) Reverse worldbuilding, aka welcome to nowhere 

Another serious issue with worldbuilding is what I suspect to be a deliberate departure from the game visuals and aesthetic. One of the things I adore most about the games is that it built heavily on Eastern European history and folk tradition. Nothing compares to the feeling when you ride into a village and you feel right at home because things are inherently familiar, or you go out into the woods and hear the exact bird song you are used to.

Netflix is very careful not to even offer a whiff of this particular identity to its show, but it doesn’t seem to have a clear artistic vision beyond that. Thus while landscapes are nice enough, other settings such as cities, taverns, ballrooms and the like are horribly bland in that “this is how we imagine the middle ages in Hollywood” way and look exactly what they are: sets. While one is not likely to quickly forget the red rooftops of Novigrad or the wild beauty of the Kaer Morhen pass from the games, there is nothing memorable about the locations presented in the series. (Even more bewildering is the depiction of the elite boarding school of Aretuza as a creepy dungeon with elf skulls everywhere. I cannot even begin to address this one unless it is all in caps.) 

Point being that the show lacks an actual visual identity that would distinguish it from any other dime a dozen medieval fantasy.

5) My kingdom for a decent wardrobe

Sadly enough, the bland and flavorless visuals have a terrible effect on something else: clothes and armor. While some costumes are well done, there are way too many examples of the opposite. One very obviously is Nilfgaardian armor, which looks like fossilized trash bags with sad dick helmets. The fact that armor in the show is treated as the equivalent of cardboard is doing no one any favors. Please do your homework next time. Please?

Another inexplicable departure from the books and games is the appearance of the nobility, and most jarringly, sorceresses. That dress Yennefer picks out the first time? It’s literally the drabbest, ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, and the others are not much better. When it comes to period-accurate choices, the range is just so wide: we are talking cambric, velvet, silk, cloth of gold and silver. We are talking luxurious furs, embroidery, colorful feathers, bright dyes, coats of arms and jewelry. Brooches, necklaces, bracelets, rings, hat badges, belt buckles, hairpins, you name it. People wore their wealth. Making them look like sad orphans will not make them look any more medieval.

Peasant clothes also had their decorations, though to a lesser degree than nobles, obviously. But I guess it’s too much to hope that those would get any attention when queens are dressed like they lost a bet.

6) I see your people and I raise you mine

Including people of color in the casting choices caused a lot of heated debate amongst the fans, but at least it means that the show cares about minority representation, right? Right?

The world of the Witcher has its own minorities, and what we have seen of them so far is so incredibly pathetic that I haven’t the words. For one thing, they look so terrible that elves in the Polish series actually look better, and that was so not a high bar to exceed. To make matters worse, they again seem to lack any sort of distinguishing visual identity (except for the Dryads. I’m also willing to make an exception for Chireadan, as he actually looks right and he’s a settled elf.)

Sadly, unlike the games, the series also fails to establish even the beginnings of a compelling narrative for its minorities, which definitely needs to be in place by the time Thanedd happens at the very latest. What is more, we seem to be given something called the Great Cleansing, which is plenty obscure but comes across as a Night of Broken Glass sort of thing (though that could be just me). While still salvageable at this point, this shift in narrative is cause for some concern, and so far doesn’t make much sense.

7) Your villains are not my villains

Unlike the books and games, the Witcher series sadly doesn’t seem to excel at presenting opposing sides without the need to vilify one (which again, makes me worried about what they are going to do to the Scoia’tael later). 

Nilfgaard is now an Empire of Evil (TM) that lives for killing and religious fanaticism, Fringilla is a psychopath, and Cahir... Well, Cahir is a thousand shades of wrong all on his own. Stregobor and Istredd are now assholes of a whole different caliber, and even poor Eyck of Denesle gets to enjoy his five minutes of fame as a madman frothing at the mouth instead of a paragon of knightly virtue.

This is going so well.

[the-rose-owl]

Okay Thots on pesterquest: (if read more doesn’t work on mobile I am Sorry)

Re: the actual ending, I think it was. fine ? I’m disappointed Dirk didn’t get a full normal route bc he deserves one and I love him, all the shit with ud and aysha was also like. fine. I’m not a fan of the Direct interaction between author and creation tbh,, I know they’re imitating what hussie did but it doesn’t rlly stick or have the same effect when it is All serious and not a gag that turned into something actually plot-meaningful,, big emotions of I Love MC but that’s my usual mood,, the ending ending was also Fine I guess I'm interested in where that goes next, I wanna know more abt MC,, maybe we get some first guardian Lore tm now,, oh also freckled dirk is confirmed

Now my actual Criticism TM: my main problem is that they're equating the alpha timeline with the epilogues,, the whole trying to prevent the kids from having shit lives but getting rid of the story thing would resonate me if it was about the epilogues,, but the way they are presenting it as kids play sburb -> homestuck happens -> epilogues happen really just doesn’t cut it lmao,, like. the Major Criticism of the ep*s were that they didn’t make sense as a continuation of the story, and of the kids’ character arcs? I know that calling them “OOC” or whatever might seem hypocritical but considering the ep*s were written by a person other than hussie I feel fair saying that,, so pesterquest acting like the story of homestuck DIRECTLY and inevitably leads to the ep*s is. just not believable for me at all. and I don’t get a big emotional reaction out of the whole saving the kids/saving canon dillema,, it does not at all feel like homestuck and the epilogues come in one singular inevitable package like they keep trying to present them lol,, I would appreciate this storyline if it was about preventing the epilogues, and you could have the like emotional part of it be. idk. the loss of the kids’ better understanding of themselves, and them never truly getting to the bottom of who they are and what they need? But as of right now it just seems like such a constructed problem made to have conflict in the story,, with the whole meta narrative Maybe That’s The Point Who Fucking Knows but eh,, at this point it seems like they really are just trying to subvert and move away from and mess with Homestuck Proper which I understand from a creator’s standpoint wanting to do that for an old thing you created, but I feel like if I had such a massive fanbase that formed meaningful emotional to the source material I would be kinder to them lol,, saying ‘it’s not canon if you don’t want it to be! 😜’ while making it part of the main story every way you can Doesn’t cut it,, 

Anyway ya this is no shade on the pesterquest team, they did a wonderful job and I very very thoroughly enjoyed the game and the narrative up to this point and MC’s development,, it just really feels like Management is trying to force the epilogues everywhere they can and it Doesn’t fit even though they try their best,, I should hope Hiveswap is safe from this but Who Knows at this point,, anyway ya that’s it I love Dirk I love MC and that is it

Ok edit bc I have some new Thots: calling it a constructed problem for conflict is unfair, I realise that they are trying to mirror MC’s dillema with the fans’ obviously (care about the characters and lose the story or care about canon and lose the characters),, but again I as The Fan which MC is supposed to mirror just don’t. absorb homestuck and the ep*s as one singular thing,, the ep*s do not feel like a continuation of the story in any meaningful way, which is why the conflict falls flat, because I *can* have one without the other,, the ep*s feel like An Offshoot like Pesterquest itself, they are not part of the solid canon of Homestuck proper,, they keep trying to present it as such but. it just Isn’t Happening my dudes,,

[redwoodrroad]

arkus’s birthday and some background info on him

SO ive been very busy with work these past two weeks AND sick with several things SO NOW TO MAKE UP FOR MISSING ARKUS’S BIRTHDAY (WHICH WAS ON JANUARY 3RD), im gonna talk about his research

here he is hard at work in his favorite part of the Priory: the ~secret~ library

everything else is under the cut because there’s a lot of science babble, but i do hope it’s fun to read if youre into science as much as i am. i also included some sylvari-centric stuff at the end because it’s specific to arkus

so simply put: Arkus’s concentration is on a mixture among anthropology (not just human-centered either), archaeology, and geology. separately, these sciences are completely different and require different skill sets, mindsets, tools, and research tactics, but these sciences also intersect in many ways and tell a fuller and more comprehensive story when put together. consider a nomadic culture that subsists on farming and animal products: they make clear boundaries in the land between where you sleep, where you eat, where you grow the food, where you cook the food, where you prepare animal parts either for consumption in one area or the creation of materials or clothing, ETC, my point is that this group needs a specific type of landscape to settle--that type of landscape needs to be sheltered enough from weathering and predators while also close to a water source, and the land itself must contain the right nutrients to grow crops; furthermore, the general landscape must be well-liked by large animals that are high enough in quantity that the group can sustain themselves on these animals and not risk endangering the population. the geology of the earth itself, the makeup of the land, is vastly important to this culture because it deigns where they can live and how they can survive in that area

of course, when they move away, they leave behind an imprint in the land itself--these cultures are not the type to necessarily bury their dead for fear of leaving them behind, but that’s also an extrapolation on my part so i cant definitively say that, but theyre also not necessarily the type to waste or throw away animal parts--so this group might not necessarily leave the obvious archeological choice of bones behind, but bones are not the only types of fossils that exist, and they certainly arent the main focus of archaeologists on digs: archeologists are looking for everything in an area--remains of encampments, clothing, pottery, tools, etc. these are the things a nomadic group might leave behind if theyre broken or unusable or perhaps if a disaster struck, and great swaths of belongings had to be left behind. lots of things are left behind when a group like this moves away--furthermore, evidence of a large group living in a place for what we can assume is several years to decades can almost always be found in each of those locations for a culture that is nomadic. archaeologists look for that evidence, and it’s the sort of thing they can follow like a map to see the direction in which this group moved

of course, the culture of that group itself is very important and just as fascinating as the prior fields of research: consider whether this group in my example might have a hierarchy--are elders the leaders of the group? is there a matriarch or a patriarch? how are children raised, and are they raised in a manner that separates them by gender, combined with the types of work or activities these genders are expected to perform? i read about a culture where the women did the foraging and held baskets at all times, and the men did the hunting and held bows and arrows at all times, but before this makes you mad and think that this culture might have been very strict on their gender conforming, the only gender “marker” in this society was that of the baskets or the bows. regardless of sex or gender at birth--concepts this culture had no definition of beyond the gendered tasks--if you wanted to hold a basket, you are a woman; if you wanted to hold a bow, you are a man. and you’re held to that standard until you decide you want to change that. there are also cultures ive read about where food is very closely linked with the cycle of life--there are some foods you eat when you are young, there are some foods you eat when someone is pregnant, and there are items to eat when someone dies, and everything has a very specific meaning assigned to it along with when and how those items are consumed.

all of these fields coalesce in different ways, and my passion for it is also Arkus’s. i imagine he goes out several times a year to conduct field research--something that is also very particular, and no two people do field research the same way, especially when it comes to soft sciences. i will also say that Arkus’s preferred style of research is one that has a little bit of discourse in the science community, and that is that he lets himself get involved with the culture.

in the soft science world, there are two pretty big styles: Positivism and Antipositivism (also called Interpretivism but ive definitely heard it called naturalism too). positivism is clean-cut--it’s objective and empirical scientific Fact. we’re talking quantitative data analysis, objective reasoning and observation (observation ONLY), and a clear separation between Scientist and Subject. 

antipositivism is the opposite--it’s not all data points and “objective” observation because to observe a culture without being part of it is not objective at all. you’re not learning about the culture if youre just watching it; you’re watching this culture from an outsider’s perspective, and from an outsider’s perspective with a completely different cultural background in mind, you will not understand the significance to any cultural action in front of you. in this way, the scientist is not separating themselves from the “subject(s);” rather, the outsider is interacting with and empathizing with the insiders. it’s a completely different mindset and one that yields results that almost cannot be measured on data points or spreadsheets.

(if you cant tell, i am an antipositivist lol)

Arkus is an antipositivist: he finds positivist thinking to be too clinical and perhaps inappropriate for his research purposes. that said, he goes out and locates groups like the vague culture i described above, and he learns about them through empathic interaction and openness. he doesnt always publish his work, but he does always ask his participants if they would like to be participants, and if not, then he helps them if they would like the interaction or leaves if they would prefer he not stick around. and that’s okay too! what he does publish is always very lengthy and involves detailed diagrams of rock formations, tools, structures, the landscape, etc, and if he’s in a position to do a dig, he may take samples of the landscape back to the Priory for further testing, especially when it comes to carbon dating or whatever the tyrian equivalent might be (the lifeforms are PROBABLY carbon based on tyria but you never know lol). at this point in the story, Arkus has been doing research for several years now--i haven’t decided when he becomes an archon, but it’s certainly his biggest career goal overall. i think it’s probably tough though because archons typically oversee really dangerous magics and sciences, so one of these days, Arkus will find a way to present his work as especially useful for that specific realm of study

i also think that with arkus’s background in a culture that is largely mysterious to other cultures is also part of why arkus has his passion for his work. to learn and discover things about culture while being simultaneously respectful and open to differences is very important to arkus, and it’s something that his culture has a particular closeness with given their history with--for EXAMPLE--the asura. no tea no shade but arkus isnt trying to be that type of way--but they also changed and got better over time; now arkus just has beef with the inquest because their research style and scientific process is the exact opposite of how arkus wants to be

i should also say--and i havent really seen really problematic evidence of this in the game--that research organizations such as the durmand priory have a tendency to be sorta...... grabby with their research. like there’s a big scientific attitude towards discovery in the modern world where the scientist(s) who discovered something feel Entitled to that discovery. it’s very western and ethnocentric, and it’s Bad. western scientists discovering x y z historic item that is important to an overseas culture’s history does not belong in a western museum or lab, i dont make the rules! unfortunately, the western scientists make the rules so like thems the brakes but let the record show i hate that

arkus is very aware of this scientific tendency to want to hold on to discoveries and sort of keep them close--safe even, in priory custody--but he also recognizes that it’s wrong to do that, so he specifically finds ways to work around that so the culture in mind gets to keep their history. sharing history and culture is really good and healthy for all cultures, but ONLY if that sharing isn’t forced or pressured onto the culture in question. arkus lives by that rule!

anyway, this was obviously just a way for me to gush about science under the guise of my character’s belated birthday, but i hope it was informative! i had fun with it ;u; and i’ll start drawing my characters again too dhfgadjfhg soon i hope

thank you for reading!

[acertaincritic]

Since you're done watching The Untamed, which parts do you personally think the series did better and worse, respectively, than the original novel?

Pfff, so this is hard, because I really thought about “The Untamed” as its own thing more than as an adaptation. A fanfic, kinda? Not that it’s bad, but like, they have so many differences, it didn’t connect fully to the source material in my mind.

Also disclaimer, I actually didn’t watch it whole - I skipped a few episodes in the middle, those about WWX’s fall. I hurried to get to the present time and planned to watch them later, but so far I just… haven’t.

So overall, I think what the drama did better were a lot of the interaction between the characters. While Wens studying at Gusu was kinda much, I enjoyed seeing more of WWX, JC, and NHS’s sheningans (though they didn’t have to make Nie Huaisang that level of goofy. He was not in the novel. I actually thought he was pretty clever even if not talented, and then I was super irritated that the author made him into an apparent idiot in the present timeline… Basically I played myself by assuming it was bad writing, ehh).

The introduction to JZX where he occupied the whole inn was also a nice addition. There were other things like that - small details that I think made what is happening even more wholesome than it was in the novel. Oh, NHS pretending to be drunk to tow JGY away from his wife at the Koi Tower Conference, for instance. Things like that.

On the other hand, what I didn’t like… Pff. Well, a lot of the changes. There’s a thing to say about the donghua - they change a lot, be it due to time constrains or difficulty with animation or censorship, but they retain the core of the story. But in “The Untamed”, I felt some changes went too far. The obvious ones are the silly “they aren’t really zombies!” stuff, but I get this likely isn’t the fault of the creative team, but of Chinese censorship (is it? I don’t really know a lot about what’s allowed and what’s not, except that they say “no homo”).

But things like. Taking away that shade of gray from Wei Wuxian while casting it at Jin Guangyao by having him outright plan Jin Zixuan’s death. I preferred the original version, since it was the one event where the blame could be put mainly on WWX. I also didn’t dig that whole “We’re now in the same high school as the Wens!” thingy, especially since Wen Qing felt like a different character, kinda. If only because her interaction with WRH or WC had never been shown in the novel, she came across as a lot more deferential.

Also Lan Zhan as the Chief Cultivator?… He’s the worst candidate to the job, ‘kay?

The Venerated Triad… Hmm. I remember NMJ’s empathy felt pretty short to me. And I mean, I get it. We’ve already seen Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao share a bond in real-time, but I guess, I kinda lacked a reminder why the two would ever be close in the first place. We only saw a moment of it before wush, MY was already out of the Nie Clan. And that moment was pretty one-sided, with NMJ defending MY. So I guess I lacked a scene that would show us why NMJ would appreciate MY as his second-in-command, something like that.

Pff, I pretty much rambled as things came to mind. Hope it’s readable. At any rate, “The Untamed” is definitely worth the watch if you aren’t scared by the fights’ choreography and generally it being a live action, but if you ask me what’s the best way to experience MDZS, I’d say either the donghua or the manhua. Or just read the novel… Though I think I’d actually have a hard time getting through it without any visuals cues.

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Are You Mine? and I Want Some More by PoetHrotsvitha

fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

pairing: Evie Frye/Jacob Frye

word count: 54k and 50k respectively (one is a direct sequel to the other)

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: this is the most explicit material i have thus far reviewed on this blog

Is it endgame: yesssss

Is it shippable: yes

One thing you guys should know about me is I don’t read a great deal of smut. I don’t actively avoid it either, and I for sure consume more smut in the context of fanfic than in professional published fiction because I feel the following quote in my bones: “It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” So when I stumbled on this fic that is 80% smut stretched over the thinnest pretext of plot, based on source material I have zero familiarity with, what did I do but fall headlong for this pairing and this story. Bless you, anon who brought Fryecest to my attention, and praise the Lord for modern AUs where knowledge of canon is not mandatory.

Jacob and Evie Frye are twins born into an Assassin family and raised by their exacting taskmaster of a father to take down the Templars. There’s no Templars or Assassins in this modern AU of course, just Evie’s looming A-Levels and their absent academic of a father. Evie’s still the golden child, of course—she’ll follow in their father’s footsteps and get her Ph.D. Jacob is the problem child. He’s already fallen in with the Wrong Crowd, he’s impulsive, he drinks and gambles and mostly solves problems with his fists. His relationship with their dad is hella strained. And because this is supposed to be PWP the author wastes no time in ratcheting the sexual tension up to 11 by having Jacob pick Evie up from her posh school on his MOTORCYCLE, each of them pretending not to be so turned on they could have combusted from desire by the end of the ride. Cool cool cool.

Their relationship begins barreling in a dom/sub direction almost from the word go. Evie is one thousand percent the take-charge, Type-A personality, so the idea is that she needs to relinquish that control in the bedroom, and Jacob is the only one she trusts to dominate her. Because they’re twins and they balance each other out adfkdfkdfjdkfd. The scene in the beginning where Jacob tells her not to button up her blouse while she’s making breakfast, and she actually listens to him instead of ignoring or insulting him, holy shit that was hot. It starts so small but eventually he’s got her wearing a wireless vibrator to class and begging for her “punishment” when she takes it out without his permission because it was too distracting.

I imagine this is what the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon was about. I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey myself, but I’ve interacted with people who rave about it and clearly got something out of those books, bad as they were. I’m not trying to compare the quality of this story to 50 Shades of Grey—it’s lightyears superior to that dreck—just that when I finished this fic I had the dazed realization that this was why people read smut.

There’s a throwaway line in Jacob’s internal monologue where he muses “they seem to be going about this backwards,” because he’s buying flowers for her the day after fingering her to a screaming orgasm, and yes I am 100% here for this trope. Ffs he sits with her in the library to keep her company while she studies! He waits for her/escorts her to her one hundred and one extracurricular activities! He’s a really immature 17-year-old and he’d never dream of doing this for anyone else, but when it comes to Evie he becomes suddenly sweet and thoughtful and solicitous. He’s constantly pausing in the middle of sex to ask for her enthusiastic & affirmative consent and reminding her to use the safe word. At the same time he’s madly jealous when anyone else shows a flicker of interest in her and he regularly makes her admit he “owns” her during their role-play. They are each other’s firsts which for some reason is really important to me in these kinds of they’re-teenagers-exploring-their-sexuality setups. This is Evie hitting up the lingerie boutique in preparation for their FIRST WEEKEND GETAWAY:

“I’m going away for the weekend with my-” Evie almost stumbled on the word, “-boyfriend.” What a strange concept.

I AM TRASH FOR THIS INCEST TROPE i love the way she stumbles over that word. Bc that’s not the box that Jacob occupies for her, is it? He’s much more than that. I love the way she alternates between begging him to put it in her cunt and calling him a prat and a shitheel; just because he’s the love of her life doesn’t make him stop being her insufferable little brother. You know what else I’m trash for? ALL the sneaking around tropes. One time while sexting with him in a storage closet at school she’s busted by one of the teachers and only barely has time to lock her phone before he confiscates it.

So the first fic ends with their dad finding the sexts and nudes on Evie’s phone, disowning them both, and Evie choosing to go to University of Edinburgh because their dad knows too many people at Oxbridge. The twins get a flat together and it’s happily ever after. Except no! In the sequel it’s ten years later and Evie and Jacob have returned to the house they grew up in to say goodbye to their dying father, and they’re ESTRANGED OH NO WHAT HAPPENED. Evie has a four-year-old in tow. We find out in fairly short order that the kid is Jacob’s, but Jacob doesn’t find out the truth until we’ve sent him through the angst wringer. The fic is about how they grieve and reconcile and how Jacob learns to parent, and this one is actually like 60% plot and I think I like it even better than the first one. This author’s note really spoke to me:

I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL.

DEAR @poethrotsvitha, THIS IS A SIGNED PETITION TO PLEASE NEVER STOP OVERTHINKING THE PLOT OF YOUR PORN FICS. Like, nobody starts fucking their brother unless they really mean it, because the risk of the relationship going pear-shaped and the two of you still being stuck in each other’s orbit because there’s no “breaking up” with family? That’s a big risk. And also why incest pairings feel so high-stakes and I am trash for them, obvs. One of the reasons the dom/sub dynamic is so integral to their relationship was because Evie had a tendency to dictate to Jacob what he “can and can’t do,” and he understandably chafed against it sometimes. It’s what led to their breakup five years ago. And so him taking charge in the bedroom is a kind of counterbalance, and there’s a scene in this fic where she lets him role-play a noncon situation as a way to partly soothe his jealousy.

To a large extent it’s their son who brings about their reconciliation, but their son is also a hyperactive little git who throws a monkey wrench in their sex life, so now instead of hiding their relationship from their dad they’re tiptoeing around a four-year-old. And the big character development that happens on Jacob’s part is him recognizing that Thomas is Evie’s #1 priority now, and there comes a moment where he has to make a difficult decision to prioritize the two of them in his own life, too (by quitting his job and ending a toxic relationship). The other thing I really liked was how Jacob thinks ruefully he could have gone a another round if he were ten years younger, which he’s not, but Evie seems satisfied and that’s what matters. The recognition that he’s not a teenager anymore, and doesn’t have the stamina of one, but he’s also more mature and this time he’ll be able to give Evie what she needs? Oh, my heart. Like I said I loved them being each other’s firsts as teenagers but this, this second chance they’ve got as adults, this is beautiful.

Ok so this is Evie begging Jacob to fuck her in a closet in the middle of their dad’s funeral service??!:

“Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-” Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard. “Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch. “Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest.

And this is after they finish (“if only it could have lasted forever”):

Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress … There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain.  "Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place.  He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word. 

LEANING HIS FOREHEAD FOR A MILLISECOND AGAINST HER SHOULDER OMFG I AM DECEASED

Ok so to return an earlier point: When you want a canon incest happy ending in a modern setting (as opposed to if you’re both Targaryens) the most popular option is run away and live as an unrelated couple, which necessitates cutting ties with everyone you’ve ever known. This may be more or less difficult depending on the quantity and quality of those ties; unless this is Flowers in the Attic and you’ve literally been locked in the attic for years there’s bound to be people you care about other than your sibling so this is a monumental ask. The Fryes choose option B, “living openly as siblings and keeping the incest on the dl”. This option is not without risk, of course, since exposure is always a possibility, and Evie has to put up with the other moms at Thomas’s preschool eyeing Jacob like a piece of meat. Still, it means Thomas gets to bake cookies with his grandmother, who would not have let Evie and Jacob back in her life if they flaunted the truth. I mean, it’s not that she doesn’t know her kids are fucking, it’s just that a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy allows everyone’s relationships to remain intact:

She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…” There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.” “I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…” Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother. Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Every Wednesday Evie (who’s moved back in with her mom) leaves Thomas with his grandma and goes to “book club” which is really date night at Jacob’s. And the two of them get right up to their old tricks:

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-” Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.” She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?” “It's simple— just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’. “ “I will not."

The process of turning that initial “no” into a “yes” is scorchingly hot so there you go, I love these two, I love this fic, I have definitely seen the light and I'm ready to embrace smut.

[canterburywebs-blog]

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[thedarkalchemist]

“Stubborn” by The Dark Alchemist Writer

“It is amazing how people usually behave in the name of pure ignorance”, Captain Phereo Aigrund said to himself in his guarding post, at the gates of the city of the Subterran Kingdom.  Tunnels made from the underground dirt convoluted towards his direction, and the gates he was standing by were shaped by two rectangular pillars with an archway over them, made entirely of polished ivory. He and the rest of the guards were facing the city. Hopefully there are no executions today, he thought. The errands linked to this were usually tedious and demanded way too much of his time, more than what he would usually like. Phereo was not covered in armor. He was an enormous humanoid shape made from rock, crystal and ice that was distributed well enough in his body to have the shape of a bipedal being. The iridescent crystals had the shape of spikes all around his back, making his own body an incredibly good defense material. His physique was hairless, his facial features angular and strong, and his eyes were made of a soft icy blue. The Arcanican didn’t need any type of metallic defense, they were great at standing by themselves.   He observed how two fellow guards were grabbing a prisoner that tried to enter to their sacred city. He saw his scarlet green scales and frugal, grey, and dirty clothing. They took a lance from his hands, it seemed. The foreigner was from the lizard folk, the Lacertilians. A spy, probably, or a scout. They had attempted several times to try to pillage their city and their attacks never fully stopped, but they were intelligent enough to make secret tunnels that lead to the capital and that the military could never dismantle on its entirety. It was a shame. A society with that level of stubbornness and loyalty to their kin, as they were known, could work very well without recurring to such mundane practices. It was almost pitiful.  Phereo sighed. The prisoner could not be seen anymore. Only the Subterran Kingdom was facing him. These tall, iridescent cities made from exquisite quartz, chalcedony and amber raised itself majestically before him.  The Opal Tower looked imponent and unforgettable in the middle, and the rest of the buildings just lied at its feet, as some sort of cover. The Opal Tower, also known as The Sacred Light, by no chance should be near anybody who wasn’t an Arcanican.  It was their sacred place and their source of pride, of purpose, of life, as well as the residence of the Arcanican Emperor. Suddenly, a nervous voice resonated inside the mind of the Captain.Sir, are you available? Phereo answered, but his lips didn’t move:Yes. What is it?Then, in front of the guard, the air seemed to shift and started to look like two purple and rectangular-shaped sources of energy, which moved towards him, barely resembling a double door. He saw a messenger, a small male Arcanican with concern in his eyes who was also a soldier of a lower rank. He knew what was about to happen. It was always the same.“Sir, you need to see the prisoner.” “Right away,” Phereo sighed, a soft glimmer of light signalling his displeasure.He really didn’t feel like doing this. At least, he hoped he didn’t have to execute him right now. That would literally take all day. Phereo walked through the dimensional door and appeared right after at the gates of the prison. He found himself surrounded by silence again. About four guards, including one that was working as a clerk in a desk, were walking through the halls of the prison. He asked to the official if the prisoner had anything extremely important over him apart from his lance, and he nodded.“Yes, two bone daggers.” Phareo flashed lightly with appreciation, and movedto the cell where they usually bring new prisoners first. The cell accommodations weren’t the best. It was just a humble prison as it could be found in any other common village. The Captain silently walked until he found the male Lacertilian again. He was silent, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and looking at a corner. Apparently, he refused to use the stone bed. He didn’t blame him. "Aye, outsider," Phereo exclaimed to call his attention, while grabbing one of the crystal bars. The lizard didn’t seem to bother. "Don’t make it difficult for me, wouldn’t you? My time is precious and I’m sure you want to be free as soon as possible. He knew this was an extremely false premise, but surely, he didn’t know that." The lizard uttered a humph and hissed, almost like a cat after being bothered while he was napping. He said something in that language that Phereo particularly didn’t enjoy listening to. “Ak, bhoszrasz uchutszit, Chotukkux drisk” Phereo raised his eyebrow. He was starting to feel impatient. "I will give you one last chance to speak in our language." The lizard, who felt very annoyed to be interrupted, turned to see him. He had a scarred eye with a patch, a long oval face that reminded Phereo of a deformed small dragon, his scales varied through different shades of green, and he was only covered from the waist down with a piece of grey cloth as he has seen before. His healthy eye was blue. The outsider spoke in a very broken Arcanican speech: "Will not. Speak. Leaders. Will not. Betray," he seemed to be struggling with the phonetics. Mimicking grinding stone speech tended to be hard for lesser races. "So, you will not speak because your leaders, whoever they are, may not like it? May punish you? You won’t meet a different fate here, I’m afraid. Make it easy, for you more than for me, then. Prisoners that behave correctly have a decent destiny." "People…are more important than own life. More will come. Not alone." Phereo sighed. The Lacertilian remained silent as well, looking down. "What’s your name, foreigner? And say something simple to pronounce, or I’ll throw you to a more uncomfortable cell. He was already grabbing his keys to unlock the door." The lizard seemed still thoughtful, but he heard the keys and instinctively, answered: "Q’uuz." "You can understand me when it’s convenient for you, huh?" He didn’t open the cell, and saved his keys. He pressed his giant rocky hand against the metal bar, this time with emphasis. "Look," he raised his tone. "If you tell me why you are here, and how many of your kind are in the surroundings of Arcanica, your death will be quick and painless." The lizard man didn’t speak. Stubborn, of course. Maybe a part of him even respected the prisoner for being so loyal and unquestioning about his orders. Also, cowards who stab their people in the back are not entertaining to question, as they break very quickly, and those were the most. Phereo turned his back to him. "I will return tomorrow. I would recommend you have more answers for me by then" Pheneo said psychically. The Lacertilian winced and hissed. Let him think  that, Pheneo thought. And the Captain left Q’uuz in his cell, who remained in a meditating position, looking at the lifeless crystal walls. In collaboration with Half monster games! Check out: https://www.halfmonstergames.com/animal-empire-map to see all the stories! Click on the interactive map to read them! And follow these amazing card game creators on social media: https://www.facebook.com/HalfMonsterGames/ https://www.instagram.com/halfmonstergames/ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPm1k8Gy3otn7fUZGaFFy5Q/ http://patreon.com/jackfordmorgan

[1kook]

epiphany

Pairing: Jeno x (F) Reader

summary ⇢ “You know he likes you, right?”

word count ⇢ 3.8k 

tags ⇢ fluff, soft romancin’, confession through text bc why not, some soft high school luvin’, crushes and shit

notes: i wrote this back in august but never wanted to proofread, and guess what y'all, i still aint proofread shit so here u go

!! there is a read more but it doesn't come up unless someone rbs this post I AM SO SORRY

The day of your enlightenment had been on a Friday night, the bright stadium lights that surrounded your school’s multipurpose field blindingly strong, the cheers of your peers deafening. Your senses were attacked on multiple fronts, and your fingers shook from the cold, late October chill that seemed set on freezing you to death, the scent of hot chocolate and leaves swarming your nose. You’d watched Jeno and his friends walk across the bottom of the bleachers, chocolate eyes scouring the crowd of students and families, as if he was looking for someone. He was looking for your little gang, you realized, the one that you’d all hastily forged towards the end of junior year, when you’d all had a large outing at some laser tag place, celebrating your ascension into the senior class. 

The summer following that had flown by much too quickly, filled with even more group activities where you’d spent whole days at the mall, evenings in each other’s back yards, just basking in the unsaid fact that this was the last summer you had before you’d all start worrying about things like college, and working. But as warm days dripped away into the now chillier nights, your friendship with each other had remained as solid as a statue. 

It was inevitable that your friends wouldn’t have every single class with you, and you’d honestly dreaded senior year for that reason alone. Yet as the first week passed by, your new friends slowly found each other, and you’d found every class was more enjoyable. 

Jeno and his friends were always a party to be with. Whether it be on Saturday nights or in the middle of your english class, they were always a source of entertainment for you and Jeno, himself, was an enigma. 

He was probably the most calm out of the group, you deduced, and though he had has random bouts of goofiness, for the most part he was pretty lax. He was one of those attractive guys, the ones who are seemingly unaware of their own godly appearance, and like to believe that the kindness they receive from girls is out of the generosity of their own hearts, and not because they really want to kiss him. Despite his obliviousness, he was an absolute sweetheart, and when you dragged behind the group, he’d always drift his way back to make sure you weren’t alone. 

It’s with this memory of Jeno that you raise your arms up, and shout his name, winning his attention despite all the other screaming spectators. Your gazes meet immediately, and his lips pulls into the cutest smile as he points you out to the rest of the guys, before stumbling his way up the nearest steps. 

It’s when you’re watching him climb the steps with his long legs (you’d been teasing him about joining a modeling agency for weeks now), eyes never leaving his gaze, that your friend nudges your arm and says, “you know he likes you, right?”

★

It sticks in your mind for a few days, and despite how unbelievable it sounds, it causes you to overanalyze every single interaction you’ve had with Jeno, starting with the very first time you’d officially met. 

The laser tag had been mostly planned by one of your friends, and though you’d been excited to go out and play, you hadn’t been too invested in any other details. All you really knew was one, you were going laser tagging, and two, some other people were coming. 

Seeing Jeno, the captain of the soccer team had been like a splash of cold water to your face, and you’d suddenly been made very aware of how under-dressed you were. Yes, you were going to be doing something that called for a lot of physical activity, but that didn’t mean you could show up in your dad’s old shirt, ridiculously large and faded, and a pair of shorts, for gods sake. 

Jeno was looking as dashing as you’d always caught him looking in the hallways, a plain t-shirt snug against his broad shoulders, legs encased by those Adidas track pants every single soccer player seemed to own. Though your outfits were picked with similar consideration, he looked a thousand times more put together than you.

Whatever, you’d thought, the arena was going to be dark anyway, and you were here to kickass, not ogle the cute boy in your trig class.

Yet as the evening progressed, you’d found yourself in a randomized assortment of teams every round. Once, you’d been paired with your best friend, which you thought was the absolute worst because you hadn’t done anything but laugh and wheeze for a good portion of the beginning, and then gotten eliminated two minutes into the speed round.

But apparently there was worse, and you only realized it when the random team generator paired you with Jeno, who had slipped to the back of your mind until then. You’d been nervous from the get-go, and all your competitiveness had faded at the sight of him fixing the straps of his chest plate as you waited to be allowed into the arena. He’d flashed you a smile then, and though his intention had been to relax you, it’d only made you a hundred times more uneasy.

But all this was unbeknownst to Jeno, who seemed content with playing another game of laser tag sans any emotional partners dragging him down. So you’d set all your inner turmoil aside in favor of being the best laser tag partner Jeno had ever seen, focusing your attention on how badly you wanted to win, and not on the way the sweat dripped down the nape of Jeno’s neck when he chased Jaemin through the arena. 

And it’d paid off in the end when the lights suddenly flashed on, and nearly everyone around you had chest plate’s with red glowing LED lights, and yours and Jeno’s were still an obnoxiously neon green color. You’d both been ecstatic at the win, and when Jeno hollered loud enough to burst your eardrums, it had been easy to push past his sparkling aura, and see the dorky boy hiding beneath. 

★

It comes up again when you’re all sitting outside the local corner store after school one day, lazily slurping down the contents of your juice boxes, which have long since gone warm under the blazing heat. Your uniform was a horrible addition to the temperature, and you’d felt sweat building up from the itchy material of your clothing. It was disgustingly humid, and you’d began wondering why you were all sitting here when you could easily be inside someone’s air conditioned house having the exact some conversation. 

Your question is answered when Jeno and another one of your friends come strolling around the corner at the other end of the street. Your friend beside you waves and makes a general racket until their attention is on you guys, and the cute smile Jeno sends your way sends the blood rushing to your ears. 

“It’s hot!” Chenle complains, and gives a feeble kick to Jeno’s legs as he nears the group of you. “We’ve been waiting for hours,” he adds on, as if trying to gain the most out of Jeno’s tardiness, his aim probably to coerce Jeno into inviting you all over to his place. 

You’re desperate for a reprieve from the heat at this point, and dumbly nod along with whatever Chenle’s saying, your focus only returning when Jeno stretches a hand out towards you. “C’mon,” he says, and already the rest of your friends are shuffling down the street, talking too loud and too much in a way only high schoolers seem to do. 

You take Jeno’s hand in yours, and he pulls you up without even straining a muscle. When you’re on two steady feet again, he places a hand on your shoulder, and you instantly meet his gaze. 

He’s too close and it’s too hot, his minty breath fanning across your face, as he leans closer and offers you a chilled water bottle, a thin sheen of condensation building up against the plastic surface. “Thanks,” you murmur, and when you grab the drink from his hands, your skin brushes, and once again you feel like you’re on fire.

You stumble behind your group, and though he’s beside you, Jeno feels a million miles away, talking animatedly with the rest of the group, not sparing you even the tiniest glance. You feel awkward, because it’s a huge transition from the intimacy he’d shown you only a few moments prior, when he’d leaned close enough you could smell his shampoo and the earthy scent of his body spray. 

There’s a whizzing sound from behind you, and you barely manage to catch the tinkling of a bicycle bell as the cyclist quickly closes in on you, and more specifically, Jeno. He’s strayed off to the edge of the sidewalk, by the unofficial bicycle lane, and you only have a second to grip his elbow and tug him back towards you. 

“Careful!” You yelp, and jerk him too hard, until he’s tumbling into your personal space, one hand placed delicately on your shoulder, the other hastily placed on your forearm. Someone from the front yells something like get it together, man! at Jeno, but the call falls deaf on your ears. 

Jeno’s close again, similar to how he was earlier, yet this time, his composure has flown out the window. His breathing is harsh and ragged, both from the surprise he’d felt from a near accidental experience, and your sudden proximity. “Are you okay?” You ask, only vaguely aware that you hold the upper arm now. 

Jeno mutely nods, wide brown eyes flickering from your gaze to nearly every other visible part of you. “Yeah,” he mumbles, and suddenly, his face heats up. 

The rosy color begins at the apples of his cheeks, so faint you almost confuse it with exertion. But then it slowly blossoms across his face, until his ears are a bright red, and continues crawling down his neck, and up to his forehead, and his face is a nice pink shade. 

“Jeno?” You poke, and he jumps in your hold, dark hair shifting with his movement, as he pulls away from you. He’s a stuttering mess then, assuring you he’s okay, and that it was his fault, and he’s normally not this clumsy, he isn’t sure how he didn’t hear, but the heat was really beating down on you now, right, maybe we should catch up to the others? Before tearing his jittery gaze away from you and jogging towards the rest of the group. 

You’re left thinking about Jeno’s sudden restlessness as you trail after the group, eventually catching them at a stoplight. Though he’s long since calmed down, his ears still peek through his messy hair, and the shade is even more obvious amongst all the onyx strands. 

★

You’re not sure how you’d never noticed before, Jeno’s apparent infatuation with you, but now that you have, it really is obvious. 

Though he’s composed for the most part, he seems to develop a nervous twitch around you, so subtle and minuscule that you nearly don’t notice that either. But the way he strays away from your gaze and toys with a bracelet around his wrist is there, and you find yourself pushing the limits to see how far he can withstand. 

It’s during your third little staring match of the night, you dead set on holding his gaze for more than fifteen seconds and maybe enjoying the tiny flush that dusts his cheeks, when your friend nudges your side, completely knocking your attention off of Jeno from where he is across the backyard. 

“What are you doing?” She warily asks, and you blink at her, before motioning for her to elaborate. “You’re being weird,” she sighs, and you find yourself shaking your head at her absurdness. 

“What? No, I’m not,” you defend, taking a sip of your can of soda and shifting your attention back towards where Jeno is now engaged in another conversation. “I’m just looking.”

She snorts. “You’re looking like you want to eat him,” she points out, and you choke on your drink. She pats your back sympathetically, as if she knows something you don’t, and for a moment, you think she just might. 

“I-I just wanted to see if what you said was true!” You blurt, but your own embarrassment is revealed by the way your voice breaks, and your cheeks flare. 

“If you like him, you should just tell him,” she advises, and returns to the conversation she’d been having before she’d decided to further confuse you. You’re left dazedly staring at the grass below your feet, but it’s not long until your traitorous eyes wander back towards Jeno, who is, coincidentally, also looking your way. 

When your gazes meet, you suddenly feel like the last of the sheet is pulled away, revealing the feelings you’d been trying to suppress. Jeno sends a soft grin your way, as if he, too, is suddenly aware of your vulnerability. 

★

Jeno approaches you one morning before classes, rests his stupidly handsome head against the side of your opened locker, and you nearly yelp in surprise. He’s all soft smiles and twinkly eyes as he watches you grab your books, asking about your day, and if you’re going to the movies with everyone on Friday. Despite your sudden epiphany and the following self-analysis you’d given yourself in the mirror as you’d gotten ready that morning, you’d like to think you still held a semblance of control, so you answer Jeno as you always have, trying to reveal as little as possible about your interest in him. 

Unfortunately, it all comes to a head on Friday night. 

Recently, your friend had befriended a girl from one of her classes, and she’d taken to hanging around your already big group, so the past few outings had been harder to coordinate. You’d had an even number of friends before, so reserving tables at restaurants had been easy, and car arrangements had never been a problem because you all got along with everyone. But your friend’s friend only knew a select few of you, and frequently preferred sitting by the one’s she knew, which you completely understood because it was hard being around people who knew each other inside and out, while you didn’t. 

Apparently, Jeno was one of those people she knew better, so of course, she’d ended up drifting towards him more often than not. 

You hadn’t minded, because if you had, you’d come off as rude and selfish. But also because Jeno wasn’t yours, so you had no logical reason to complain about their closeness other than the fact that you were jealous over someone who was very obviously not your significant other. 

The ice cream run you’d gone on prior to the movie screening was filled with screaming and laughter, just the way you preferred, and Jeno had even sat next to you inside one of the booths, his presence consuming your thoughts, which he knew, if the tiny smirks he’d send your way were anything to go by. He was becoming increasingly straightforward with his advances on you, which both excited and terrified you. 

The only thing holding him back from full on confessing his feelings to you is the new girl sitting in front of him, who likes to laugh extra loud at his jokes, and grab onto his hand whenever she recalls a memory of something else. 

The movie goes somewhat similar to that, Jeno trailing beside you through the theater, offering to share a large popcorn with you, and occasionally making a sarcastic remark in response to someone else.

But he’s quiet with you, listens to you give your opinion about the last superhero installment of the film you’re watching today, soft brown eyes zeroed in on your face. Every now and then he’ll push the popcorn container into your lap, claiming he’s sick of popcorn, before snatching it back a few minutes later. 

Your new friend is sitting on his other side, and though she’s mostly preoccupied with the person on her other side, she still interrupts you two here and there, placing a hand on Jeno’s knee to get his attention. 

He’s considerate of her, and they laugh about something that happened in their art class while you watch the final trailers roll through, before the movie starts and everyone shuts up. 

It’s a damn good movie, you think, but it’d be even better if you didn’t have to hear the soft giggles Jeno shares with his friend, and the way she constantly reaches for his knee whenever he so much as glances at you. You’re not jealous, you think, maybe just a little salty. 

But you remind yourself of your relations to Jeno, and how, as much as you’d like to believe he was, he isn’t your boyfriend, and even if he was, he wasn’t required to ignore everyone else just for you. So you settle on whispering with Jaemin, who sits quietly on your other side. Despite usually being the mood setter of your group, he’s oddly quiet right now as he doesn’t understand the movie’s plot. You occupy yourself with filling him in instead. 

When the ending credits roll by, you’re feeling ten times more serene than when you’d been two hours ago, and happily follow your friends out of the theater. 

Someone suggests going to corner store, but you’re feeling a tad bit tired, and opt out instead. Jaemin’s also a little tired, probably from all the plot lines you’d stuffed into his head, and offers to walk you home, along with a few others. Your group separates into the going home club and the out all night party, bidding each other goodbye until you round the corner. 

A few minutes into the walk, Jaemin says, “huh, Jeno texted.” 

For a moment, your steps stutter, and though you’re currently involved in another conversation, you try to discreetly focus your hearing on whatever Jaemin is telling his buddies. You don’t hear much, just that he seems to have decided to go home last minute and was wondering if you were all nearby still. Jaemin tells him no, and you think about Jeno walking home alone until you reach your house and bid everyone goodbye. 

Truthfully, it takes a while to muster up the courage to text him, and you wash your face and put in your retainers before you pace your bedroom for five minutes, building yourself up. Though you’re desperate to text Jeno and ask him if he’s okay, he’d really only told Jaemin of his situation, so you texting him out of the blue would be a bit creepy. But at the same time, you guys are friends, you tell yourself, and friends regularly check up on each other. 

[10:17] ____: did you get home safe?

He texts back ridiculously fast. 

[10:17] jeno: yeah you?

You sigh in relief, before filling Jeno in on all the tomfoolery that had occurred on your walk home, trying your best to not convey the absolute adoration you had for him. Jeno asks if you enjoyed the movie, and you tell him you did. Then, he throws you for a loop. 

[10:29] jeno: did jaems like it?

You blink. 

[10:30] ____: yeah, he was just confused a lot so i had to tell him what was going on lol

[10:31] jeno: oh lol

Suddenly, it’s stilted and awkward, two words that don’t mix well with Jeno. He was always the more suave between the two of you, frequently spitting lines that were on the border between friendly and romantic, and somehow saving himself from any weird situations. But Jeno being the stiff one only made you feel ten times more out of place. 

It goes on like that for a few moments, you desperately trying to fill in the gaps Jeno is leaving open, until he finally throws a bomb at you. 

[10:40] jeno: do you like jaemin?

You blank, and for a moment all you hear is the running water of your mom washing the dishes downstairs, and the soft murmuring of the television. Is this what had brought on this awkwardly formal conversation?

[10:41] ____: well, he’s my friend so i kinda have to 

You play it safe, locking your phone shut in an attempt to regain your senses. Your best choice of action right now is remaining calm, so you rush off to wash your face. After rushing through the steps of your skincare routine you find you’re still a little frazzled by Jeno’s question, so you distract yourself with brushing your teeth. 

When you come back, there’s two new messages waiting for you. 

[10:42] jeno: oh yeah lol 

[10:45] jeno: actually can i tell you something?

Your heart feels like it’s stuck in your throat, and your hands tremble with anxiety as you shakily type out a quick sure, before setting your phone down again. Your face feels hot, you realize after pressing your palm to your cheek. Your phone dings, and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

[10:50] jeno: i like you

★

You notice it from the way he holds your hand in the morning, fingers laced together over the center console of his car, his lips softly curving over the words of his favorite song, eyes still a little droopy with sleep. He’s ridiculously soft at this hour, his voice mellow and sweet when he pulls up to the drive-through of your favorite coffee place and orders your drinks.

He’s barely flickering to life when you arrive at school, balancing his coffee and his bag in one hand as he pulls the door open for you. His friends greet him as you trek towards your locker, and it’s probably Renjun’s reminder to finish the pre-calc homework that finally shocks him awake. 

“C’mon,” he whines at your locker, rushing you to grab all your things. Its mixed in with his, so you have to grab two blue notebooks before you finally manage to find the one thats yours. When he deduces you’re down, he shuts your locker, hand finding yours as he tugs you towards the library. 

You notice it as you watch him rush through his math problems, your own attention primarily focused on the literature book in front of you. Occasionally, his eyes flicker towards you, his pencil obnoxiously tapping against the table. He nudges you beneath the table, and when you look up, you’re immediately trapped by his gaze. 

He blinks those long lashes your way, the corners of his eyes still winged with sleep. He’s inexplicably beautiful, you think as you watch him speak, his words going completely over your head. He kicks your shin then, and you yelp in the library, much to his own amusement. 

“Are you even listening?” Jeno whispers, his hand crawling across the table until the tips of your fingers are touching. You shake your head, and he clicks his tongue. Your heart thunders in your chest, and nearly stops when he murmurs, “aren’t you supposed to listen to your boyfriend when he talks?”