#the song choice however i have no explanation for

[benoits-neckerchieves]

Just in case you want to know what it’s like living at my house, it’s 1am and my brother is loudly singing Flowers by Miley Cyrus in a Benoit Blanc voice

[dragoncopper]

The Apparition

Summary: You have been feeling a presence for months. You are sure that you are losing your mind. But then the presence makes itself known to you. Your soulmate finally found you. Word Count: 20k (take a moment) Pairing: Female Reader x Noah Sebastian Warnings: Major character death. Lots of talk about death. Smut - oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, fluffy loving sex, fingering. More warnings: This is the first work I have written that I am posting. I really hope someone enjoys it.

The continuation or bonus chapter... here.

The whole story on A03 here.

A/N While this is mostly a fluff piece, there are quite sad moments in the story and lots of crying. This is a work of fiction. There are mentions of Noah's past and as we do not have good information, I filled in the blanks. This is not an accurate depiction of his past.

I used Noah's playlist on Spotify to help me with music choices. These are, however, the songs that I felt fit with the story: Sleep Token - The Apparition (obviously). Sleep Token - Telomeres. Hozier - Work Song.

I have proofread it myself, so there might (for sure) be some errors.

I will post a link to A03 also.

1. You You would not say that you believed in ghosts. Not at all. It made no sense and your brain needed something to make sense for you to accept it. However, lately you have been noticing things, and it has been happening for a while, but you have always made it off as nothing. Surely, you just made a mistake, forgot that you had done it. But it has come to the point where you cannot deny it anymore.

It started with simple things, like you would be certain that you did not leave your pen there on the desk. Sure that you did not open the curtains in your bedroom. Items in cupboards just slightly out of place. These things were so easy to dismiss as nothing. But then you started feeling like someone was in the room with you, a presence – this was not a scary feeling at all, more comforting, like the presence was there for good reasons. You sometimes felt a slight warmth, like a breath near you. Even your pet would look at something that you could not see, never reacting in an alarming way but just looking.

Intellectually, you knew it did not make sense. You also knew that if you were really feeling these things, it should probably worry you more than what it did.

Dreams have been more vivid, you still have a hard time remembering what you dream, but they have changed. You would often wake up feeling incredibly sad, even crying. You would also wake up mid-laugh with no memory of what caused these emotions in you. And most damning was that you would be sure that you had been held – still feeling the warmth of an arm around you or a hand holding yours, even though you were very much alone in your bed.

This was not limited to your home. Although it was rare, you would occasionally feel a hand on the small of your back when you were stressed, a hand on your shoulder when you would start to panic, a whispered ‘breathe’ when you became angry.

Because your brain longed for logic, because you have always been one to look for rational explanations, you had tried to figure it out. Your conclusions came to the fact that you probably needed to see a professional. But you did not do that. You do not really know why not.

One night you woke up, not sure what woke you, but there was an unmistakable hand holding yours. You felt the weight of it, the heat, the size. You took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, because you couldn’t see anything in the dark. You squeezed the hand gently and it reciprocated with equal tenderness. You reached your other hand over to feel, too scared to move the hand being held. But you knew if you tried to touch this hand it would disappear and that just broke your heart, made it clench in pain. So, you left it. You just held the hand, trying to get information about the hand without seeing it or moving again. The hand was larger than yours, long slender fingers and it held yours with deliberateness.

Another night you were woken by a voice whispering your name, right by your ear. You were sure that it was him even though him talking or making any sound was very rare. You woke up, smelling smoke and immediately shot up to see what was going on. A field nearby had caught fire, causing big billows of orange smoke to be visible when you looked out the window. You could see the flames, but it wasn’t near enough to be of danger to you, but the wind was blowing some of the smoke in your direction so you closed the windows. You were almost relieved when you smelled the smoke on the curtains the next morning, because you were sure for a second, you had dreamt the whole thing.

Things started escalating as soon as October hit.

You would feel the bed dip with a weight behind you, but no one was ever there. When you unlocked your phone in the morning, a song would be paused, ready to play. It was sometimes songs you knew and loved and sometimes songs you had never heard, never knew existed. The song would always have something in it that you needed – lyrics that made you feel hopeful or even just a fun song to lighten your mood. You would always try to accept the message as best as you could. You felt the hand in yours more often. You realised it was not as often as you would have liked.

The disappointment in you when no song waited for you in the morning was enough to ruin your day. You knew that you were losing your mind – and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

2. Noah I was near her and that was what was important. I knew that I was better when I was near her. More real. But I kept reliving a moment in my life that evening and it just would not stop. I knew that my emotions bled through to her often, so I tried so hard to keep these memories at bay because they were not pleasant for me and I knew she would feel some of it in some way.

Memories were very vague for me, there was so much of my life and who I was that I just cannot recall. But certain pieces were clear, some just less fuzzy. I sometimes did not even know myself.

The memory was of the day that I died. This one was annoyingly clear. The sun was shining bright, it was a hot day. I had the window of the car rolled down. When my dad lost control of the vehicle everything slowed down in my mind, like I had time to process and stop what was happening, prevent this tragedy from taking the lives of everyone in that car that day. But I couldn’t. I remember bracing my hand on the roof of the car as it started to flip, my head being smashed so painfully against the frame of the car. The continuous motion that felt like it went on for so long. When it finally stopped, I was lying there, the sun burning me as I watched blood pooling around us. Most of the blood came from a head wound my father had sustained. I knew they were all dead. I knew I was too. I made it the longest, only officially dying in the hospital a few hours later. All alone.

I cannot even remember what car we were in. I cannot remember who else was in the car. I cannot remember what my father looked like. But the feeling of my pain shooting through my body was detailed in my mind. Did I even have a mind anymore? Over and over this played. I knew she was dreaming about it when she started clenching her hands into fists and her breathing became uneven. I did not want her to have bad dreams. She would not even understand where this dream came from.

I have been able to touch things lately. Not just accidental movements after trying for ages like it has been for years. I have tried leaving her notes in the beginning. But I could never hold the pen successfully. It took immense concentration in the beginning, but it has been getting easier slowly. Now I could leave her notes if I wanted to, but what do I say to her after years of being here with her. She can hear me sometimes, but I do not want to scare her. I try to be subtle. Sometimes I just feel like she needs me. And I wish I could be what she needed so bad. So, this evening, I lay down next to her and hold her fists between my hands as best I can. Hoping to provide some comfort while we both live through the accident repeatedly.

3. You You woke gasping through a sob. Your head hurt, your muscles were so tense, but you remembered a lot of the dream. You knew the images were not yours. You knew you had to keep remembering. So, you leap out of bed as fast as you can, head pounding at the sudden movement. You went straight for a pen and the first scrap of paper you could reach. You wrote down some of the images before they flew away never to be recalled again.

Car accident. Yellow car. Blood. Tattoos.

You tried to think of more. You really tried so hard, and added ‘hospital’ to the list. A fat tear splashed on the paper and then only did you realise you were still sobbing. You stood up straight, wiped your cheeks and tried to take a deep breath, but it shook. You got ready for work, washing your face with cold water. The whole day, you were distracted and you could not focus. You have had dreams that were strange before, where you couldn’t remember the details. Writing down the memories of this one worked so well, that while you were constantly clutching at the crumpled paper in your pocket, you didn’t need it anymore, you knew the words on the paper so well now.

The tattoos were new. You knew it was significant. You feel like the accident was strangely familiar to you in a way, but the tattoos that covered the arms and hands of the person was a new detail. You regularly closed your eyes throughout the day trying to visualize what they looked like. There were tattoos on his neck also, but his face was clear, pale and smooth. You always had a feeling he was a man. A male? You felt sure now. You felt utter frustration that you could not remember what the tattoos were of.

You took a deep breath when you felt a warmth on your shoulder. He was here. Focus on anything you could remember, even if it seemed silly, you told yourself.

Red, there were red features in a mostly black and grey mass of art covering his arms. You hoped it was not blood that you saw.

You saw blood pooling from wounds sustained in the accident. So much blood. The driver had black hair. And he had dark hair also, but not black.

Then an image shot through your head of a hand pressing flat against the roof of the car in desperation to stop himself from getting hurt. The hand was the most clear, vivid image you have ever managed about him. The hand was really large, with slender fingers, exactly what you felt when your hand was held during the night. But now you had bright light shining on it and you knew so much more. The nails were short and neat. The thumb was bony and stood out far to the side. The tattoos were so clear, there was no way your mind could have come up with this. An image of a goat with red eyes and a red horn on the back of his hand, very elaborate calligraphy on his knuckles and a Leaf-Village symbol on his index finger. A crescent moon right where his index finger meets his hand on his thumb’s side.

You grabbed a pen and tried drawing what you could remember, it was not great, but it was something. You took the drawing, the paper from your pocket which you tried to smooth out and put them between the pages an empty notebook you found in your bookshelf. That evening, you placed the book and a pen right by your bed in case you needed to take notes again.

You had taken medication during the day to calm yourself down and to help with the pounding headache, so you fell asleep quite easily. You felt his hand rest on your arm as you were falling asleep and you pictured the tattoo there.

4. Noah There was a strange hopefulness in me as I watched her draw the picture of the back of my hand. She truly saw me in the dream. I wished that it could have been a better dream, one that was not terrible for the both of us. But it clearly stuck with her.

As I was laying with her, that very hand resting on her arm, I wondered if there were other ways I could tell her who I am. Who I was. Despondently, I tell myself, yet again, that I barely knew who I was. I could not even remember my name.

Since the tattoos got her attention though, I searched through my mind to find a memory that had something to do with my tattoos. I could see them all on myself now. I had many. Sparser on the legs but still so many to choose from. I thought of the Moon Lady on my leg, I had fond memories of getting her done. Not super specific, but I was laughing with the artist. It felt lighter, happier and I kept thinking of that, while slowly making circles with my fingers on her skin.

5. You Yellow walls, framed pictures, happiness.

You were laying on the couch, your hair damp from the shower, the window open to allow the cool morning breeze in. Your eyes were closed as you tried to relive the dream you had last night. The whole vibe was so different from the previous dreams that you enjoyed it and felt such relief to not feel your heart clench, the moment you woke up, with sadness.

He was getting a tattoo done on the outside of his left leg, just above the ankle. He was laying down then sitting up - constantly changing position throughout. The artist was a man about his age, with a mass of dark hair pulled back in a mess at the back of his head. While you couldn’t know what they were talking about, there was clearly a bond between them, joking and laughing all the while. You tried to focus on him. You needed to know more. His hair was long, well past his shoulders. Dark brown eyes. A smile that made your heart clench. He smiled with his whole face. His eyes squinting almost shut, a brief exhale with white teeth showing. He would also pull a pained face every now and then from the tattoo gun dragging across his skin.

You tried to get clues about the tattoo shop, to look out of a window, but his attention was focused on his friend and you couldn’t really get anything useful. You wish you could record the dreams and go through them frame by frame.

You felt fingers carefully touching your hair. You keep your eyes closed trying to determine if it was maybe the breeze, but it was definitely not. You were always so scared of scaring him away if you were to look or even reach out and touch his hand back.

The fingers started to gently comb through, as gentle as every time he decided to touch. It was rare during the day, it mostly happened when he thought you were sleeping. You sighed deeply, enjoying the feeling. And then you smell him. It was brief whiff of clean, fresh, masculine.

Tears well up immediately and you do not even know why.

You swallow, take a deep breath and decide to be brave. “Can you hear me?” you whispered.

The hand disappeared from your hair. You did not move. You waited a while and then you felt the hand back at your hair, stroking a strand away from your face. You hold your hand out, palm up. “Can you hear me?” you ask again. A single finger strokes a line in your palm. Your breath catches. The touch sent a wave of goosebumps across your whole body.

“Who are you?” you asked. You wait for a long time and get no answering touch. “Do you know who you are?” it was the only thing you could think of. A moment, then a cross was drawn in your palm. Your heart starts to beat so much faster. You sit up, folding your legs in front of you, keeping your eyes closed. You placed a hand on each knee, palm up. You felt such nervousness, not wanting to scare him off, but desperately wanting answers. You needed to ask carefully.

“Do you have tattoos? Did you have tattoos?” you grimace, not knowing how to approach this with more tact if you did not have more information. One line on your left palm. Yes. “Why are you here? With me?” You get no response. “Do you know why you are here?” You try again. Again, no response. You badly wanted to open your eyes. You do not even know why you were keeping them shut. You blink them open and you see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you still here?” One line. Yes.

“Are you trapped here?” A cross. No.

“Do you know who I am?” Yes.

“Did you die?” your voice is barely audible. Yes.

“In a car accident?” Yes. “I am sorry.” He squeezed your hand.

“Do you need help?” No response. “Do you need closure or peace or something?” No.

“I am not afraid of you. Should I be?” No.

Each of his reactions were slow and deliberate. It felt so real when he touched your hand that you wanted to close your eyes again, so that you could picture him there. But he was there. You needed to know the rules of this. He has spoken before. “Can you speak?” A hesitant no.

“You have spoken to me before?” Yes.

“But you cannot now?” No.

“Only sometimes?” Yes.

He took both of your hands, and pulled them together, giving a brief squeeze before the hands disappeared. No more questions.

6. Noah I enjoyed it when she was home the whole day, because it was so much easier to stay present. I was not always. I disappeared sometimes. She was puttering around her small place dressed in stretchy pants and a large shirt, her hair messy. She was so beautiful like this.

She had on a playlist of all the songs I have left her. I could not understand how I could not remember my own name, but had a whole cache of music in my brain. My head?

Each song I chose was with a reason, but it often worried me she would see the wrong reason. She would stop what she is doing every now and then to listen to the lyrics, sometimes even looking them up. Sometimes she looked at her phone with an expression on her face that clearly said she did not like the song, it made me smile. Some songs she would straight up laugh at me – it felt like that. Some she would sit and listen, nodding along or tears welling up. Some songs she knew and she would sing along and even dance. I joined her, but she did not notice.

Things have changed since our limited conversation. I did not scare her and that made me bold. When she was on the couch, listening to the music still, legs crossed as she lay with her arms above her head, I sat by her. When she fell asleep, I got closer and ran the back of my fingers across her cheek. She leaned into my touch, a small smile on her face. Maybe she was not as asleep as I had thought. So, I kept stroking her skin, then traced an eyebrow, ran a finger down her nose. She reacted so perfectly. Times like this I wish I were real with more heartache and passion than I could explain.

“Thank you for the songs,” she exhaled. I cupped her cheek then. I kissed her forehead.

She felt it, because her eyes shot open, but she could not see me. She had a blush on her cheeks. Adorable.

“Did you just….?” She could not finish the question. Her palm was not ready for me to answer, but I as soon as I touched her hand, she flattened her hand, and I answered her.

She was quiet so long I started to panic, thinking I had crossed a line. I managed a soft, whispered, “Sorry.” This was easier it seemed when I was in stressed.

Her eyes went wide, and she looked around, but she still could not see me. “I heard you,” she beamed. “Don’t be sorry, it was sweet.” I felt relief.

She touched her fingers to her forehead where I had kissed her. After some time, she said, “I don’t know if you have control over what I see in my dreams about you… but you need to give me a clue so I can figure this out.” I drew a line in her palm, meaning that I will try.

I tried very hard, putting all my concentration into it, “Is it okay that I am here?” I whispered.

She frowned. “Did you ask if it was okay that you are here?” she whispered back.

Yes.

She took a long breath before she answered. “In the beginning, I was sure that I was losing my sanity. I was a maybe a little afraid. But you became a pleasant addition to my days.”

I smiled at her, but she did not know.

“I miss you sometimes,” she added. “Where do you go when you are not here?”

“I don’t know,” I managed.

“How long have you been here?”

“Years.”

“Years,” she exclaimed. Her face contorted in confusion. “I was not aware of that. You never made yourself known.”

“Couldn’t.”

“Why here? Why me?”

I could not get another answer out. So instead, I placed my hand in hers, pressing our palms together.

7. You You woke up gently with your fingers wrapped around two of his fingers. Without letting go, you stretched and rubbed your eyes with the other hand. “You did it,” you said sleepily. You turn back to where he had to be next to you, and brought your other hand up to cup his. If you kept your eyes closed, you could forget that he was not real, that is how solid he felt. “I saw you walk out of the tattoo shop,’ you sigh. “I saw the sign.” His other hand joined. “I just need to figure out how that leads me to you.” You got up later and sat at your computer with a cup of coffee ready to start the search. Mixed emotions coursed through you. You typed the name of the tattoo shop and immediately got a list of results. It was in a small town very far from where you were now. You have visited this town before, loved it, thought of going back many times. You were confused by this information. How did he end up here, so far away, with you?

Now that you knew the location, you knew what had to be searched next. But you did not really want to. Getting answers here would make everything too real. It would take away the small morsel of hope you had.

You felt his hand on your shoulders, quietly encouraging you to continue.

You typed in the name of the town followed by 'fatal car accidents'.

There were not many results, but you reluctantly started clicking through, reading news articles and other bits, quickly skipping if you saw it was not the one you needed. Eventually you clicked on a short article in the digital newspaper. It had a small black and white photo and your whole chest felt constricted. It was him. You read through it slowly.

You turn your chair around completely, so you could face him, held your hands out and he took both with his. “This is a little confusing,” you breathe. He squeezed. “You were alone in the car when you… “

He took one of his hands away. “The article says it was dark and the roads were slippery from rain and that you must have lost control of the car. It doesn’t give much more than that,” by this time you were speaking so softly. You gave him a moment, knowing this is not what he remembered. “In the dreams the sun was so bright,” you add. You knew he understood.

“Your name is Noah,” you finally said it out loud. His name feeling almost familiar on your tongue. He takes your hand again and squeezes so hard it is almost painful. “Noah Sebastian Davis.”

Then, while the tears are gathering in your eyes, one of them escaping and slipping down your cheek, your heart breaking for this man that was not really there, you saw a flicker of him. Like signals were lost in his broadcast and saw him on his knees in front of you his head hanging, his hair, cut short, falling forward, while his hands were up in yours.

You suck in a breath so fast, and feel tingling goosebumps run through your whole body. You tried to keep your cool, not knowing what to say. He was processing some significant news and you did not want to be insensitive by freaking out about seeing him. Even if it was brief, the image was seared into your mind. The stunning beauty of the man kneeling in front of you would be easy to recall and you would do so often.

Once you have calmed down, you tried to focus again. “Do you remember this accident at all?” you asked him. He drew a cross in your palm. “I will figure it out, don’t worry,’ you reassure him. “We will put the puzzle together.” He squeezed your hands again, both of them.

You hear a faint and sad, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it was not happier news,” you say equally softly.

“Thank you for my name,” he clarifies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, realising what a big deal it must be for him to know that. “It suits you,” you say with a small smile.

That night as you were reading before it was time to sleep, you felt the dip on the bed and then an arm drape around your middle. You smiled sleepily and put the book down. “I saw you today, Noah,” you said. “When I was telling you the news, I saw you for a moment.” His arm tightened briefly. But other than that, you got no response. You fell asleep feeling the weight of his arm, seeing the image of him in your mind.

8. Noah I was lying next to her, she was sleeping deeply, her deep steady breaths accompanied by the lightest of snores. Learning this knowledge about myself was such a peculiar feeling that I did not know what to make of it. My name felt foreign and so familiar at the same time. How could I not have known my own name. But knowing it felt like such an important piece of the puzzle of who I was. I would say the name, trying it out, often. My name was a bigger shock that finding out that I did not die like I thought. My mind must have gotten things mixed up. But knowing I was alone in the car was a relief. Such a small mistake. And it cost me so much. I am aware that I do not even know everything that I am missing out on. But the heaviest of the burdens was not meeting her for real. The real me. Because I know we would have. I know it. Our souls have a bond that I cannot explain. It aches in me to know what we are both missing out on because of my mistake.

She sighed, rolled over, her arm reaching out and came to rest across my ribcage. Or where my ribcage should be. This was the first time this has happened. Normally when she rolls over where I am, she goes right through me, and she does not even know. Now, she is holding me. She knows, even in her sleep, she tightened her hold, pulling us closer together.

My moments of realness have been happening more often. I was trying to figure out why, what causes it, so I can make it happen more often. High emotions on my part definitely seem to play a role. But her feelings were also a factor. Hers were harder to solve. But I felt like I knew her better than I knew myself. In my bones, in my soul, I knew her. As she was getting to know me, it made me more real to her. But it had a physical effect on me also.

I rest my hand on her arm, and try to wiggle closer to her. I rest my lips against her forehead. ***

I leave a song on her phone. A calm but uplifting song in major. I want her to feel peace and contentment, because I do after hours of holding each other. She plays it on repeat while she gets dressed, brushes her teeth, fixes her hair. I watch her do mundane things all the time, my soul feeling at peace whenever I am near her. But, also, I feel so strongly for her that even the mundane is magical when she is doing it.

She is in a good mood this morning. Her usual morning grumpiness almost absent completely. While she is making breakfast for herself, she is moving to the song still playing, swaying with the sounds. I take a big risk and go behind her, placing my hands on her hips. She pauses and sucks in a breath, realises it was only me and relaxes again.

I have kept touching to hands only for so long, that the new sensation of her holding me while she sleeps and touching her so casually is overwhelming to me.

“Close your eyes,” I whisper right by her ear and I can see the goosebumps rise across the skin of her neck. Without hesitation she closes her eyes. The trust she has in me.

I turn her around, and rest my arms around her middle and start to sway the both of us side to side. Her hands reached out, her eyes still closed, and felt around, touching my chest, flattening her palms against me and running them upwards, slowly until she found my shoulders, resting her hands there close to my neck. She swayed with me happily, until she started to shuffle her feet to get us to start rotating slowly on the spot in the kitchen, her breakfast forgotten.

She was smiling in the beginning, but by the second play through of the song the smile faded and tears started falling from her shut eyes. Her lip and chin were quivering, like she was trying to hold back. I wiped away the tears on her cheeks, holding her face for a moment and then holding her closer to me, so that her head was resting against my chest. I was a lot taller than her. She cried for a while, keeping her eyes squeezed shut – I knew why.

“Why are you never real?” she asked, her voice strained. I had nothing to say. I just held her tighter.

9. You He has not been present for a few days. You are worried and you miss him more than you care to admit. He is in the back of your mind the whole time, even when you are busy with other things. You have saved the photo of him from the newspaper on your phone and you look every so often. You think about the change in hairstyle from that day you saw him when you told him his name.

You are worried that the whole thing was all in your imagination. You also worry about why he would stay away this long if it was not your imagination. Every day you wish and hope that he would show up, be home when you got there, that he would leave you a song, a sign, anything.

It was six days after the dance in the kitchen when he was back. And the relief you felt was immense. You woke up in the middle of the night, and he was wrapped around you. Never before have you felt so much of him. His legs were tangled with yours, his arm around you pulling you back into his chest, his head in your hair. It was the best feeling.

You have stopped trying to make sense of this. You knew he was not real. But yet, he was so real. You had no idea how you could feel him, hear him and know this ghost or spirit or entity so well. You held him too, gripping his arm, as best you could, drinking in the feeling of having him back.

“Do I make you sad?” he whispered to you. His voice sent shivers down your spine.

“No,” you answer immediately, no thought necessary. “Why would you think that?” you whisper back.

“You cry often when I’m with you,” he said so softly it was barely audible.

You swallow and take moment. “I am sad sometimes. I feel sad about what happened to you. I feel sad that I could not meet you before it happened. But you do not make me sad.”

You feel him nod against you in understanding. He squeezed you with his whole body. He is real this evening like never before.

“Is that why you left?” you say turning to look at him even though you could not see him.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

Emotion wells up in your chest so much that it aches. But you swallow the tears. Instead, you take a breath and force more neutral tone to your voice. “You make the sadness better. I always feel better when you are here. I really missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he kisses behind your ear. “I missed you, too.”

“Where did you go?”

“I don’t really go anywhere. If I am not here or with you, I kind of disappear,” he explains. “I came to check on you a few times.”

“I didn’t realise,” you say.

“I will always check if you are okay,” he says, his voice fuller.

“Why me?” you asked him, not for the first time.

He was quiet for a long time before he answered. “After I died, my whole being knew I had to find you. My soul, or whatever, went straight to you. I didn’t know why. But when I found you, everything felt right.”

You have never heard his voice this much; it was deep and beautiful. You could listen to him forever. What he was saying was even better. “It does feel right,” you agree.

“I think I can hold you and talk to you from sheer relief that I am near you again,” he says this quickly.

“I am not complaining,” you smile. Keeping your eyes shut, just in case, despite the fact that it was dark in the room, you turn to face him and blindly search until you have your hand on his cheek, you feel his soft skin with slight stubble. How is he not real? “Please don’t leave again.”

Then he presses his lips against yours, slowly and deliberately. You inhale deeply through your nose. He was warm against you, you felt how his lips molded into the kiss, his body pulling yours closer. He pulls away, only to kiss you again and again. He was firm but gentle. It was everything.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “I have wanted to do that for years.”

With those words leaving his mouth, you see him again. You didn’t even realise your eyes were open. But in the dark you saw his outline, his dark hair a contrast against his pale skin. You wanted all the lights on, but you knew it would break whatever spell was cast in this moment.

So instead, keeping your eyes open to try and not miss a thing, you kiss him and you are more forceful than he was. His hand comes up over your ear as he holds you, and when you part your lips slightly to deepen the kiss he moans sweetly and does the same. Your eyes close because you could not help it. It was too good, too much and not enough. His hands were not still for long, his impossibly long fingers in your hair, in the shell of your ear, his thumb stroking your skin. When his tongue touches yours, so soft, the sensation courses through your whole body and you grip him, trying to get him closer, as close as you can get. He makes sounds that sound like desperation. You could die from this and your ghost would be his.

You fall asleep with your head on his shoulder, him stroking your hair, his one thigh between yours. If you could keep your eyes open all night you would, you were terrified of missing one moment.

But, gloriously, when you opened your eyes with the first rays of sunshine coming through the curtains, he was still there and visible. You were facing each other, still close together, clinging to each other almost. You had to pull your head back a bit to see his face properly. You drank him in, struggling to resist the urge to touch. His hair, shorter than the photo you have, messy, forward over his forehead, hiding his eyebrows. The slight pout on his lips, the slight stubble on his face. He was perfection. Literally nothing on his face was less than perfect.

You traced a finger down the length of his straight nose, lightly. When he started to wake up, he started fading and your heart sank. “Noah,” you say watching him fade into nothing.

“I’m right here,” he says, pulling you closer.

10. Noah “What are you doing?” She is sitting up in bed, back propped up against pillows, the glow from her tablet illuminating her face.

She startled a bit, looked in my direction, but I knew she couldn’t see me right now. “Research,” she said her eyes back to the screen. “I think I have found something.”

“What did you find?” I sit next to her, close enough that I could see the screen too.

She winced. “It’s not all good news, unfortunately,” she starts. “From what I could gather, you were twenty-seven when you died. The dream I had of you dying with other people was bothering me, because the article said you were alone. Also, in the dream the sun was so bright.”

I just scooted closer. Talking was a bit difficult this evening. I laid my head on her shoulder.

She leaned into me before she carried on. “You were in another car crash when you were eleven, with your dad and other people. Everyone died in that crash, except for you. You must have combined the memories in your mind.”

Flashes of the blood pooling went through my head and suddenly I could see my younger self there instead. Absolute panic knowing everyone was dead, being pretty sure I was too. It made sense.

“Then I also know the tattoo artist’s name. Nicholas Ruffilo. You were very close friends; I found his social media and there are some photos of the two of you.”

She swiped through some photos and I felt a tug in my chest at these memories that I could not really remember. But I felt a connection to him if nothing else. It was the strangest feeling, seeing myself, knowing it is me, but not feeling the full link I was supposed to.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,’ she said putting her hand in the direction of my knee, finding it eventually and keeping it there as a reassuring gesture. I nod against her. “Do you remember any of this?”

“Not really,” I manage to whisper.

“Lots of instruments and middle fingers in the photos,” she snorts lightly.

I chuckled quietly.

“I can’t find any information about your dad, however. I think it’s a dead end there. But I can try and make contact with him,” she gestures to the photos, “I am sure he will have information.”

“Maybe.”

“Is it too much?” she asks.

I take her hand when I reply, “It’s a bit overwhelming, yes. But thank you.” I kiss her cheek.

“Okay, I will wait,” she says tenderly and puts the tablet away. She then comes closer and places her forehead against my one cheek, her free hand cupping my other cheek. It is a gesture of comfort. “Sorry if I pried too much.”

I shake my head, bringing the hand I was holding up to kiss it. “I appreciate you.”

I start to maneuver myself that I am between her legs, laying on my stomach, resting my head on her chest. I wrap my arms around her as much as a can. I can feel her heartbeat against my ear, I breathe her in. She wiggles slightly lower on the pillows and immediately holds me back, her arm across my back, then she gently scratches across my back, sending pleasurable shivers through me. Her one leg even hooks over one of mine.

“I appreciate you, too.” She says after some time.

“This,” I sigh, “is so much more than I ever thought I could wish for.” I whisper hoping my ability to talk does not slip away. “When I came to you, I thought I would just hang here forever, never being able to interact with you at all.”

Her scratching continues rhythmically. “You being here has made my life so much better,” she whispered back.

I was eternally grateful for her acceptance of this entire situation exactly the way it was. With neither of us really understanding anything. But I was not sure if it was as good for her as it was for me. Regardless of how I feel, I was still not real.

11. You There was a song waiting for you, it was almost every morning now. It was upbeat with a female voice. You listened while waiting for the kettle to boil. As usual you took a while to fully wake up, so at first you had it at low volume, not really listening with attention yet. A lot of the times, Noah’s intention was the vibe and not necessarily the lyrics.

But a few play throughs later, as you were sipping your coffee a few words were captured by your brain and you stopped mid-swallow. You grab your phone and sure enough you were not imagining it. Touching Yourself by The Japanese House.

Your mind starts sounding like static in your own ears as you try to process what this means. Because you have wondered a few times how often he is present without you knowing. You knew he was not always present or whatever. You also trusted that he would leave you in moments that would require privacy, like bathroom moments and so on. You would also be lying to yourself if you did not admit that it has crossed your mind many times in certain moments; whether he was watching.

With your face hidden in your hands, you say, “Noah, are you here?”

“Yes,” he says sheepishly.

“Where are you?” you asked, looking up, but you could not see him.

“I am by the fridge,” he says.

You felt stupid as you look in the general direction of the fridge to talk to him, you were certainly looking in the wrong place, you often thought it must be funny sight to him. “This song,” you start.

“Yeah,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“What are you…” you trail off, the awkward feeling getting stronger by the second. “Are you trying to tell me something.”

“I guess so,” he says. There is a breathiness to his voice, like he is laughing.

“This one was not for the vibes?” you say your voice small.

“Well, no,” he says he sounded slightly closer. “The vibes are nice though.”

“Oh God,” you say hiding your face again. Not knowing if you should laugh or panic. “You were there?”

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” he says, very close now, but you almost want to back away from him.

“Noah, what the hell?” You are panicking and laughing at the same time, since your brain did not know which one to pick. You look up, wishing you could see his face to help you read the situation better.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I left as soon as I could. But…”

He takes your hands, and this anchors you. You knew where he was and felt him, making it easier to have this conversation a tiny bit. “But,” you say loudly, needing him to finish his thought.

“I cannot always make myself leave, you know,” he says. “I do not always listen to my own instructions.”

“You could have to told me you were there,” you say your voice getting higher in pitch each time you speak.

“I couldn’t make a sound and I was turned away, in the corner trying to leave.”

“You were trapped!?”

“No, that sounds harsh, I just couldn’t do what I knew I had to,” his voice calmer and lower.

Your brain was trying and failing to come up with something to reply with.

“I knew then that I had to tell you that this was a thing that could happen. I don’t want to be creepy. But I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he says his voice soft.

Despite your blush, you burst out laughing, head thrown back, from your belly. He flickered into view. You saw relief and shock on his face. “You decide to tell me with that song!?” You look him right in the eye now.

“Was it that silly?” he asked.

“Yes, you could have just said it. But I appreciate the thought you put into this one.” You grab his face and kiss him quickly. “I am still embarrassed, though.”

“Seriously, don’t be. But, in the future?” he asked.

“Well,” you say feeling weirdly emboldened. “In the future, I will ask if you are there.”

“And then you’ll tell me to fuck off,” he nods.

“Yes,” you kiss his chin, it was all you could reach without him leaning down. “Or, I’ll invite you to stay if you want to.”

His eyes widen as he looks at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “Interesting.”

12. Noah She had the car packed and ready for the very long drive. I was going to tag along as far as it was possible for me to do. But I was very uneasy and nervous about the whole thing. At the same time, I felt excited. I did not know what to expect really. I knew this could be very eye opening or devastating, and mostly for her sake, I hoped it was a good experience.

She had contacted Nicholas and the only excuse she had to see him was to make an appointment for a tattoo. Then she obsessed over which tattoo to get, was in communication with him about the design and decided on a date and time. I had a lot of input on the tattoo and I loved that she even asked me.

We stopped at a store where she ran in for snacks, me following behind, telling her to buy marshmallows. I missed them.

I knew she was not able to see me during most of the drive, but I put myself in charge of the music. She would tell me to skip or make requests if she felt strongly, but mostly we could listen and sing along quite pleasantly. I was nervous about the length of the drive and that she might start feeling sleepy so I kept things upbeat.

“Are you nervous?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said immediately. “How do I have this conversation without sounding like a crazy person?”

“I think you just need to be honest.” I said helpfully.

“Noah, honesty is not going to do the trick here. I need to convince him that this,” she waves her hand in my direction, “is happening without being weird. This is going to for sure be weird.”

I try to feed her a marshmallow from the packet, but she shakes her head. “Maybe you should wait until the tattoo is finished. What if he chases you out or something?” She looks at me in the wrong place, in horror.

“I didn’t think of that,” she said.

We stop about half way to fill up the car, she went to the bathroom and got a coffee. She was tired, so we did a sing along for a while to get her more alert.

“What if you find out something about me that you don’t like,” I finally ask what has been bothering me most.

She was quiet for a moment while she thought about it. “I am not very worried about that,” she said. “It did cross my mind, but I am sure there won’t be anything that bad. We all have pasts and did things we are not proud of.”

“I am terrified about what you might find.”

She reached out and I grabbed her hand, interlacing our fingers. “Don’t be,” she smiled reassuringly. “You let me know when I need to stop, and I will.”

We held hands the rest of the way, or my hand was on her thigh.

When we got to the bed and breakfast she immediately went for a shower and I waited for her on the bed. She came out of the bathroom wearing her usual oversized t-shirt she slept in, her legs bare, hair wet. She grabbed her pillow from her bag, threw it on the bed and then towel dried her hair before sitting on the bed next to me.

13. You You were restless, you were stressed and nervous and you felt like something was crawling over your skin. You kept turning, flipping the pillow, taking a sip of water and you just could not settle down. You were exhausted from the drive, but you just could not let go and fall asleep.

Next thing you knew, Noah grabs you around your waist, whispered, “Come here,” and pulls your back so that you are between his legs, your head resting on his shoulder. He pushed the covers off to one side and his large hands were firmly running up and down your arms, like he was trying to get rid of the crawling feeling. He grabbed your hand every now and again when he made his way down your arm, he ran his hand through your hair. “You are okay,” he whispered. “Breathe,” he said.

You did not need much encouragement for that part, because his hands all over you made your breath quicken and deepen. You squeezed your legs together and tried to stop yourself from grabbing him back. You close your eyes firmly and turn your head towards him and press your lips firmly against his neck, he tilts his head ever so slightly to give you better access. You touch your tongue to his skin and taste him and the way it was all him with a bit of salt made you turn slightly in his grip and free your one hand from his ministrations so you could throw your arm around him and hold him in place as you lick up the column of his neck to his jawline. You do this slowly and deliberately.

“Jesus,” he moans and his mouth is desperate to find yours in a crushing kiss. It was a kiss of urgency, like you were holding back for way too long. You definitely were.

You turn your body as much as you can so you can access him more easily as your hands grab at his shoulders. He bites onto your bottom lip and drags his teeth as he pulls away and then bites into your neck gently. You grab his hair at the sensations he was sending through your body. You were both panting. His breath hot against your jaw as he finds his way back to your mouth. You kept your eyes shut.

He makes the bold move, because your boldness was turning into uncertainty for many reasons. He moved out from under you to hover above you, kissing you all the time. Your whole being was burning for him, every part of your body was alive with need for him, but your brain kept wondering how all of this was even possible. You actively decide to not worry about it, because no one knew the answer, not even Noah. So, you would just take whatever you could.

His hand lands on your hip and he runs it down your thigh and then over where he taps lightly. You ease your legs apart and he settles there like it was always where he was meant to be. He runs a single finger along the top of your underwear, back and forth, asking permission. You quickly squeezed his hand as an answer and then pushed his shirt out of the way and up his back, needing more. You manage to wrestle the shirt off him and then he sneaks his hand into your underwear slowly making his way to where you wanted him most.

“Is this okay?” he pants. You open your eyes and there he is in all his glory kneeling between your legs leaning forward on one arm, while the other hand was very gingerly touching you, his hair tousled from your fingers running through it, his dark eyes seemed even darker.

You grab his arm and lean forward needing to be closer to him, “Noah,” you breathe, “yes,” you nod. You kiss him messily and pull him back with you and when his fingers slowly drag through the wetness there, you gasp and he moans. He starts a rhythm with his touching, drawing circles with his fingers and it immediately drives you insane. You grip onto his back with urgency, not even knowing what you are trying to achieve other than to be closer to him, climb inside of him, anything. When your nails dig in, he moans again and the way his voice cracks, the deep tremble that vibrates through his throat is beautiful and filthy. “You are killing me,” you rasp.

He hesitates for a second. “In a good way?”

“God, yes, in a good way,” you barely manage to get out.

Then, he grips the edges of your underwear and starts working them down your hips. You lift slightly so he can slip them off entirely before he is back where he left off.

He kisses you, his lips just pressing against yours with insistence. You hear and feel his breath and you wonder for a second if breathing is necessary for him. But then he stops what he is doing so that he can press a single finger into you. He does this slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut, but you are in awe of him and just how impossibly ethereal he looks that you cannot look away if you tried. “So warm,” he says.

He readjusts himself so that he has better access to you, but this makes him more out of reach and you do not like this, but when he moves that finger inside of you with surety, curling it just slightly you throw your head back and let out a moan of pleasure. This makes him smile. When he adds a second finger, so that his pointer and middle fingers are working together you can feel the tingly, deep feeling starting to build up. He goes slower, like he knows exactly what you are feeling, dragging the feeling out longer. You move your hips along with him, he keeps gently pushing your thighs apart with his body. You reach for him and he grabs your hand, entwining your fingers together without a thought. Then the feeling reaches its peak and the orgasm washes through your entire body in intense but almost gentle way. It does not overwhelm you that you feel you want to push him away, instead when he works his fingers all through the orgasm, you gripping him rhythmically, it is just what you wanted and needed. The feeling is so intense that you feel tears stinging at your eyes, you try to blink them away, knowing that Noah will think he was making you sad.

But he already saw, and he was kissing your eyes, running his hand across your face to push your hair back as finally removes his fingers from you and then he lays between your legs, his weight comforting against you. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You can just nod.

“You are so amazing,” he whispers in your ear, he keeps his head buried in the crook of your neck. You reach your arm around him and hug him to you as close as you can. You squeeze your thighs around his hips. Then he maneuvers himself so he is next to you and he pulls you closer, so your head is resting tucked under his chin, he tangles your legs together. “Now, please get some sleep,” he mumbles and his arms rests across your waist.

You still wanted to ask about him. You still wanted to overthink the whole reality of everything. But your eyes were heavy, you were warm and so comfortable breathing him in that you fell asleep effortlessly.

14. Noah Nicholas greeted her with a shy warmth when we arrived. He had a beanie pulled over his messy black hair. He showed her to his area, showing her the final design again, asking if she was sure, getting the stencil ready. I kept my hand on her lower back, I could see she was tense, breathing too fast, kept wiping sweat at her brow. She was panicking.

“You can take a moment before we start,” Nick said so calmly and with such kindness. I looked at him and felt familiarity. His mannerisms and slightly awkward demeanor seemed not only familiar but hit me so much deeper than I ever thought it would. After my death I have only ever felt a bond with her. I did not expect the fullness in my heart from seeing someone that had clearly been a dear friend of mine.

She lifts her skirt up where she stands in front of a mirror and Nicholas slides closer on his chair with wheels, holding the stencil. He patiently takes his time and asks her is she is happy with the placement, asks if she is sure. He applies it with gentle precision and rolls back to have a look for himself. When she convinces him that she was happy, he shows her to the bench. She settles herself on the bench he had ready, covered in plastic. She awkwardly tries to find a comfortable position and I can see that this is overwhelming for her. And I understand, the whole thing is a strange situation to say the least. She lays back a little and she exposes her thigh again. Meanwhile he is carefully wrapping the tattoo gun, placing cling wrap everywhere, filling little containers with ink. He is meticulous. While he is distracted, I stand behind her and I rub her back, squeeze her hand, run my fingers through her hair. I cannot offer any verbal reassurance; we are not sure if he would hear.

Both of us are sure that it is only her that can hear me. But we have no basis for this belief. We could be wrong. Now was not the time to test our theory.

Her skin is clammy by the time Nick comes closer to start the process. He asks if she is ready and she nods. He stretched the skin and starts. I can see the pain etched into her eyebrows immediately as Nick draws the first line. She puts a hand behind her back for me and I grab it and hold on.

“It is pretty painful,” Nick laughs softly and kindly. “You just let me know if you need a break or anything.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out. This was worse than she was bargaining for. I feel guilty.

I carefully rub her hand, even massaging at times. I would bend over and kiss her arm, her neck every now and again as a distraction and as encouragement.

“So how did you hear about me?” Nick asks. They have exchanged some pleasantries. Nick was trying to make her feel at ease, but he was also shy and it did not come as naturally to him.

She blushes when he asks this, because she has no idea how to answer this question. She takes a moment, while she is squeezing my fingers so hard. “I actually heard about you from Noah.” She says this while looking intently at him for a reaction of any kind. He stopped tattooing and looked her in the eye, a slight rattled look on his calm features. “Noah?” he says while he is processing the information.

“Yeah. Davis.” She says and I can feel how her heart starts beating even faster.

“Wow, I was not expecting to hear that,” he says softly, he looks down like he was just flooded with memories that were now playing through his mind. In that moment, I wanted to comfort him too. “He’s been gone for three years.” A deep furrow formed on his brow.

She nodded solemnly. “He was very fond of the pieces you did for him,” she said, calculatingly giving very little information.

Nick smiled. “He was so young when we did some of it. Fuck, he was so young when he insisted on getting a sleeve on one whole arm.” The smile faded a bit and he sighed. He shook himself and started tattooing again. “He always was an old soul. Insistent on doing what he wanted, how he wanted, when he wanted.” Nick drew a few lines of the tattoo before he asked, “How did you know him?”

She tensed for a moment. I rubbed her back softly. I was feeling every bit of the emotion in the room too. By the looks of things, I was in a room with the two people that I cared about the most. “I did not know him very well before he died,” she told a half lie. “But I just kept dreaming about the tattoo of the Moon Lady and I thought it must mean something.”

He glanced up briefly and then back to his work on her thigh. “Yeah, he dubbed her the Moon Lady,” he laughed. “I designed her special for him. I also helped him fix the mess of a sleeve he had done when he was way too young.” “You two were close?” she asked quietly.

“He was my best friend.” Nick had a sad look on his face. “Since Noah was fifteen, we just hung out all the time. We had some good times. We actually met because he came looking for work at the tattoo parlour I was apprenticing at.” I was listening to every word he was saying, drinking it all in.

“He had such an independent mind,” he continued. “He was playing for a band and he was so sure that music was his future, he dropped out of school and everything…”

“He dropped out at fifteen?” she asked a little shocked.

“Yeah, he was a different one,” Nick smiled. “I miss him.”

The image of the moth that Nick designed for the tattoo was slowly taking shape, her skin was red and she flinched every time he used the rough paper towel to wipe away at the ink and blood. She was in agony, I could tell.

“This is so much more painful than I ever thought it would be,” she whispered to me while we were in the bathroom. She had asked for a break. “I thought I was tougher than this.”

‘You are doing great,” I whisper back.

“I should have just asked for a coffee date or something and spilled the beans right away,” she was splashing herself with cold water, rubbing her neck.

“You are doing fine,” I insist.

“I really am not, Noah,” she huffs. She stares at me for full minute. “Are you fine?” she asks.

“No,” I answer simply. She takes a step closer and goes down on her knees in front of me where I am sitting on the closed toilet. She takes my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“I feel like I can remember something as soon as he says it. Like he is filling in pieces of a puzzle,” I try to explain. “I want to hug him. Is that silly?”

“No,” she says.

“I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“Maybe you went too big for the first tattoo.”

“Maybe. But everyone always says you should go bigger than you think.”

We kiss there by the toilet in the black and white bathroom, comforting each other as much as we can.

15. You You go back out and smile and grit your teeth through the last end of the shading done on the moth, but you also bite back tears. The whole thing is too much. You are in so much physical pain you are struggling to cope, your heart is going through all the emotions of learning more about Noah. You are also so worried about him and how he might take any news that comes out of this. You are all over the place.

“Tell me more about him,” you prompt.

“He was very private. Only really shared his secrets with the people he was closest to. I don’t remember him ever mentioning you,” Nick’s voice was still soft and kind.

“I’m not trying to pry,” you quickly explain. “I guess I just wish I had the chance to know him before…”

“That accident was tragic,” Nick said. “I could not believe the news when I heard. I was even waiting for him to pat me on the shoulder at his own funeral I was in denial so bad.”

“Slippery roads in the rain, right?” you add.

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “But he must have been speeding. Noah was always a very responsible driver. You know, especially after what happened when he was young. When his dad died. He always had respect for the rules, he knew the consequences for being reckless too well. I wish I knew what had happened. Wish I could talk to him again.”

“Do you think something was suspicious?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” Nick sighs. “But I have made peace with the fact that I will never know.”

“Accidents can happen so quickly,” you try to comfort. “I just always hope that he was at peace. That it was quick. That he didn’t suffer.” Once the words were out of your mouth you realise how hard you really did hope that. How much it haunted you that Noah went through a death. You also realise that you have never said this to Noah, because you feel how he rests his head against your shoulder. You want to turn and hug him, hold him.

“God, I hope so too,” Nick says, his voice small. “From the police report it sounds like that it was quick. His injuries were severe.” He stops tattooing for a moment to lean back so that he was looking at the ceiling. Your heart was breaking for both these men.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say.

“If I cry now, I will have to resanitise everything,” he tries to chuckle. He takes a deep breath and continues to tattoo.

You bite back tears yourself, blinking as quickly as you can. You can’t think of what else to say.

“You haven’t said how you know Noah,” he said.

You notice the present tense. “Him and I were talking online. For a few months,” you lie quickly. Knowing that the truth would not go over well at all at his moment. “I had a great time talking to him. It was texts only.” You had to account for your limited knowledge.

“Oh,” Nick says nodding.

You do not say anything again.

You drive back to the guest house, your leg wrapped in cling wrap, taped at the edges, Noah’s hand resting just above the tape. You feel like both of you are hanging by a thin thread and you are quiet all the way. He rubs your thigh comfortingly. You squeeze his fingers back.

As soon as you close the door of the guest house behind you, you and Noah are in each other’s arms, clinging to each other and within seconds of that you start crying, chest heaving for air and then Noah is crying too, burying his face in your neck, his breath hot.

You take his hand after a while and guide him to the couch, where you lie down and he lays next to you on your good leg’s side, his head on your chest. You both cry for a while longer while running your fingers through his hair and rubbing his back. “I feel like I miss him so bad,” Noah says later his voice thick. You kiss his hair. “The connection I felt was insane.”

“He was very kind,” you say.

“I wanted to speak to him and tell him I’m okay,” he sounds defeated.

“We can make a plan,” you reassure him. After a while you whisper your suggestion, knowing it was not great. “We can write him a letter?”

Noah reaches over and pulls up your skirt to expose the tattoo and he lifts his head to look. He absent-mindedly starts picking at the tape around the edges.

“I need to let him know,” he says. “Can we write the letter now? How’s your leg?”

“My leg is fine,” you say. You get up to get your bag and dig out a notebook and a pen. “How do you want to do this? How honest are we going to be?”

Dear Nick I felt the need to clarify a few things. I had no idea how to say these things to you yesterday. I felt like saying it would be disrespectful to you in a way, because I had no idea if you would believe me. I did not want you to feel like I was playing with your emotions. I lied. I did not exchange texts with Noah. He appears to me. He says he has been appearing for years, but I have only been able to notice for a few months now. His ghost, or soul, or presence or essence, I don’t know. I know that is crazy. So does he. But it is true and I don’t know what to tell you about it. He cannot remember a lot of things; he is unclear on a lot of his past and I came to you to try and get some extra information. I felt in the moment that it would be insensitive to tell you this, because then you had to respond to me – and how is anyone supposed to respond?? Noah was with me yesterday during our session. He asked me to say the following in the letter: He cannot remember you as well as he wishes, but that he does remember that you were a person that made him feel seen and safe. He knows that he loved you dearly. He was also so adamant to let you know that he was okay. I am leaving town, I have a long drive home, but should you wish to contact me I will leave my contact details at the end. I will also have breakfast at the restaurant on the corner from your shop, should you wish to talk to me in person. Thank you for doing a great job on the tattoo. Thank you for being so important to Noah when he needed you. Kindest regards

16. Noah I carefully pealed the cling wrap and tape from her leg and then with great care put on an ointment that Nick had suggested. This morning when we woke up the skin was not red anymore and the tattoo looked great almost no scabbing. It was beautiful. I had a viscerally emotional response to it, seeing my friend’s work on her thigh.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“No, just sensitive,” she smiles at me.

We returned to the shop after writing the letter and left it under the wiper blade of his car, we decided that we really did not want to make him uncomfortable and force him into a situation he had no choice being in.

I was so nervous about breakfast, having no idea what to expect. I could tell she was too. She seemed calmer, the adrenaline of the pain from being tattooed out of her system. I think it contributed to her emotional response the previous day. But I still felt nauseous with the need to connect with Nick and it was truly strange.

When the car was packed and we double checked the bathroom for anything we might have left behind, we quietly drove to the restaurant. She picked a table at the back, a little secluded but sat in a spot where she could see the door, should he decide to show up.

She ordered coffee. I had my hand on her thigh. She had pulled the skirt up to expose the tattoo, to get relief from the material touching the sensitive skin. I traced the outline gently. I could tell she wanted to talk, she was crawling in her own skin again, fidgeting with a straw wrapper that was on the table. The coffee came and she slowly sipped at it.

“I’m not even hungry,” she whispers. But we need to kill time. So, she ordered something, just so we could stay a little longer.

“If he doesn’t show,” I say, sighing, “It’s okay. This was never a guaranteed success anyway.”

“Yeah,” she sounds defeated. I love her for helping me with this. I want to tell her but instead I kiss her cheek and she gives me a weak smile.

And then Nick walks through the door.

She stands immediately, waving him over.

He did not smile. He just walked over, his hands buried deep in his pockets and he looked everywhere except at her. He seemed like he had had no sleep. He slides into the seat opposite her still looking away.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” he answers.

The waiter shows up and takes his order for orange juice.

“You need to explain that letter you left me,” he says looking her in the eye for the first time. “It was messing with me all night.”

She nods. “I know that what I said is crazy. I am aware. But it is true. I don’t have an explanation of how it is possible. I am not a psychic or any of that shit.”

“How do you communicate with him?” he asks.

“You believe me?”

“I did not say that.”

She grimaces, but steels herself before she begins. “At first it was small things, like sounds I heard in my house, things not where I left them, touches, whispers. For a very long time, I was convinced that it was my mind playing tricks on me. But eventually, he was more in control of himself and we could start talking and he could touch me. It got to the point where I had to accept it regardless of how I felt. He became a comforting presence to me.”

Nick was quiet for a moment absorbing what she said. “You said he couldn’t remember much?”

“No, he can’t. So, I starting having dreams, like he was giving them to me. I dreamt of you one night, giving him the Moon Lady tattoo and it was so real, the details the way you two were joking around. Then I started to take all the clues and I started putting the puzzle together. I am not explaining this very well.” She takes a few big gulps of her coffee.

His orange juice and her breakfast arrive, they both ignore their orders.

“You said he was there yesterday?” he asks.

She simply nods.

He leans forward, holding his head in one hand. “I could have sworn that I saw him yesterday. Almost from the corner of my eye, you know. Part of why I was so emotional talking about him to you. But I was sure it was just because our conversation was about him”

Her eyes went wide. “We didn’t know whether you would be able to see him or hear him.”

“He is okay?” Nick asks his voice thick.

“Yeah,” she says.

I feel my heart clench so much it hurts. I get up and stand behind him. I make eye contact with her before I carefully place my hand on his shoulder. He tensed immediately and I felt elated that he could feel it.

“Is he…?”

“Yes,” she says.

He brings his hand up and places it over mine. “Jesus,” he says giving a nervous laugh.

“It’s just Noah,” I say quietly. He heard me. He twists around, stands and grabs at me and we hug so tight.

“This is fucking weird,” he says.

“You need to be cool, people might look,” she says, but she is beaming.

We release the hug and he awkwardly looks around, because he couldn’t see me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I miss you,” I whisper back.

He sits back down and I sit next to him. She picks up a fork and starts eating her breakfast, the tension gone from her face.

“Can you remember the crash?” Nick whispers.

17. You You watched for about a solid hour while they spoke and caught up. The friendship that they shared was obvious to you, as they were so at ease with each other, despite the absurdity of the situation, despite the time apart, despite literal death. Noah’s eyes had a sparkle to them and it made you so happy to see. It was strange to see him interact with someone else, but it was so humanising. You said very little and were happy to just watch the two of them and absorb Noah’s laugh.

Eventually you had to leave though. Nick took you to his car where he had a box that he handed to you. “I packed this last night,” he said making eye contact with you. “I wasn’t sure I was going to give it you,” he looked down. “But I think you will both really learn a lot from it.”

You gave Nick a long, tight hug and thanked him many times. Noah and Nick hugged quickly. You promised to keep in touch.

“That was great,” Noah said his voice sad.

“That went a million times better than we ever hoped for,” you said.

“It did,” he said. “I can’t believe that he could actually feel me, that we could speak. I have never felt as real as I did when you could both hear me.” His voice grew soft at the end.

You reach over and gently take his hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours. “We will make a plan and see him again. I can absolutely see how the two of you were friends.”

“Are,” he corrects you. “We are friends.”

“Yeah,” you smile. You keep your eyes on the road, but you want to look into his eyes. You knew this was a lot to handle. “I am dying to know what’s in the box.”

“Me too,” he says.

“You open it, we have a long way to go still. Could kill some time.”

He drops a kiss to your hand before he reaches back to retrieve the shoe box. He settles it on his lap and stares at it for a while. You say nothing. He carefully lifts the lid of the box and slowly pushes it back. “Well fuck,” he breathes. “What?” you ask, sneaking peaks at the box.

“You drive,” he points through the windscreen towards the road. “I’ll give details.”

“Okay,” you snort.

“Right so, it seems like some of my stuff,” he says. “Hang on.” He digs through the things in the box.

“Noah,” you say in frustration after a while.

“Alright, alright, biggest item is this shirt.” He takes it out and shakes it out so you could look quickly. “It is a white shirt and it has a picture of…. It looks like Jesus and the devil playing basketball.” He laughs. “That is so cool.”

“Give me,” you take it and immediately smell it. Spicy and clean. “Mmmm, smells like you.” You keep the shirt on your lap.

“Then we have a beaded necklace with a big cross on, some bracelets, a plain gold ring.” He holds each piece and waits for you to look. He studies each item with care. Taking his time with each piece. “Here’s a copy of Into the Wild,” he flips through the pages of the book.

You were speechless. These few items meant the world. It was such a generous thing of Nick to do.

“Here is a flash drive also,” he says his voice sounding almost scared.

“The laptop is behind my seat.” You feel nervous.

Again, he rummages around in the back to take out the laptop. It takes a moment for him to boot it up and settle back. “What do you think this is?”

“Probably photos,” you say.

“Why am I scared of this?”

“Because whatever it is, it was your life,” you say gently. “Take your time.”

“Can I just say thank you to you first?” he says. “Thank you for doing this. Being there for me.”

You steal a glance at him. “Of course,” you say. “I feel honoured that I am allowed to witness this.”

“I love you,” he says his voice deep. “Do you know that?”

Your heart beats faster instantly, you feel it trying to climb up through your throat. Why would he say this while you are driving? You want to stare into his eyes and hold him and comfort him. You slow the car down and pull off next to the road. He seems confused by your actions. Once the car is fully stationary, you undo your seatbelt and practically climb over to him as much as you can and you wrap your arms around his neck. You press your face into his neck and breathe in his smell. “I love you,” you whisper. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you so tight.

You start peppering his neck in small kisses heading towards his jaw. You feel him smile and your heart swells. Kisses along his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his eyebrows. Finally, he takes your face between his large hands, his hands resting over your ears and he kisses you firmly, you feel him swallow. Then his tongue is gently at your lips and you kiss him back, opening up to him. The kiss is tender and he smiles into it and it makes you feel out of breath. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours for a few moments.

“Thank you for pulling the car over before doing that,” he whispers against your cheek with a giggle.

You laugh. “My pleasure.”

“Also mine,” he laughs. “But seriously, did you hear me?”

You nod, eyes locked with his. “Did you hear me?”

He nods. “I’m not even real, though. How can you love me?”

“You are more real to me than anything,” you say.

18. Noah I insert the flash drive into the laptop. We were on the road again. She turns her head and smiles at me while I watch her drive. I see the sparkle in her eye, and the emotions she feels for me are written on her face and she shows it to me without hesitation. Never can I express how that feels – the words do not exist to explain the feeling shattering my heart and then lovingly putting each piece back in its place. My heart that does not exist either. It’s almost painful. And it’s the best feeling. I should have told her that I loved her with flowers and music and grand gestures. But I needed her to know so badly in that moment.

“Are you okay?” she asks, suddenly frowning.

“I just love you so much,” I say as explanation.

“Noah,” she smiles. “I love you, too. But is this too much for you? We can wait until we get home. We can wait as long as you want.”

I take a moment to think about it. “Honestly, I want you to be able to look with me. I don’t want you driving, I want you holding my hand when I do this.”

She reaches out her hand and I take it. “Okay,” she says. “We wait.”

I kiss her hand. “I can offer you other entertainment?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Eye spy?” I say, trying to think of other games. She laughs and I think that I live for that sound. But I do not. I exist for that sound.

“I have a better idea,” she giggles. “Go pick a playlist with older music and then we guess the song. We see how much you can remember.”

“Interesting, you want to compete with me,” I say, starting to search for playlists. “If it is a banger, we play it through and see who knows the most lyrics.”

She nods with a big smile. She has my shirt wrapped around her neck like a scarf, she keeps smelling it.

We play the game and she drives. We sing along to songs, laugh when we get it wrong. We argue about which songs qualify as bangers. I feed her dried apples and sips of water. I watch as she walks to the bathroom when we stop for a break and she adds a desperate running step because she couldn’t wait any longer. She comes back with marshmallows and a coffee.

We got home and we unloaded the car with heavy limbs. She kept stretching and rubbing her butt, saying that she sat it completely flat. I assured her it was just as delicious as it was before.

As I stood under the spray of water from the shower head and I felt the water pelt my skin, the water droplets running down my body, I wonder if I really feel it, or whether I was just so in the moment, so desperate that I made it real in my head. I wish there were a rule book and that I could understand. But then I shake myself and decide that I should stop wasting my time on wondering. Enjoy the warmth of the water while you can feel it, Noah. Let yourself feel cleansed by the soap, Noah. Just stop thinking so goddamn much.

When I enter the bedroom, she is under the covers, pillows arranged how she likes it, her eyes gently closed. She must be tired. Ambient light is all that covers the room in a soft, warm glow.

I lift the covers and settle behind her, inching my way closer and closer until I was right up against her body and I put my arm around her waist and I put my face in her neck. “Hey, baby.”

She hums in response, her head tilting to allow me more access to her neck. I kiss her neck repeatedly and slowly and go up her jaw.

“You still awake?” I ask eventually.

“I am,” she whispers. She sounds slightly out of breath. She squirms and, in the process, pushes her butt back against me and I gasp in response. The sensation sends shivers down my spine and makes me achingly aware of my groin.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down a little. My hand goes under the shirt she is wearing and I feel her bare skin, soft and smooth. “Is this okay?” I ask.

“Yes,” she breathes.

I run my fingers over her waist with light touches, slowly working my way higher until I can feel the flesh of her breasts and then I take my time touching, squeezing and holding them. I feel her hardened nipples against my palm and I drink in every heavy breath she takes and releases. Her hips ever so slightly pushing back against me consistently. “My god,” I moan in her ear. “These are so perfect.” I kiss and suck at her neck. Rational thought was leaving me rapidly. “Come here,” I pant and I make room for her to turn onto her back and then I immediately lean in and over her and kiss her. My hand is still palming her breast.

She kisses me back with so much passion that I am overwhelmed for a few seconds. She has her hands on my shoulders, rubbing along them softly, in contrast with the way her tongue is running along my lips with fervour. “Noah,” she says.

‘Yes, baby?”

“Please, Noah.”

“What do you want? Tell me?” I pull back and make eye contact with her, making sure I hear what she is about to say.

“I need you,” she sobs almost. I have to kiss her solidly before I pull back again.

“What do you need?”

“You, all of you,” she says, her leg hooking around mine and she runs her hands down my back, lower and lower. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”

“Alright,” I nod and I push her shirt up and she lifts her shoulders just enough that I get it off and I slowly drag the shirt down her arms and then she is bare and I cannot breathe. I immediately lower my mouth and kiss a line between her breasts before I kiss one while my hand is on the other. I lick around her nipple, my tongue leaving shiny wet spots in its wake. I glance up and her head is thrown back, her eyes closed. “Hey,” I whisper to her and she looks down. “Keep your eyes on me,” I say. I flatten my tongue and glide it across the hardened bud of her nipple and she moans, then I bite down very softly and she grabs my hair.

“Can I take off your underwear?” I say locking eyes with her. She bites her lip and nods. I move my body and move the blankets so I can reach her and I trail my fingers down her stomach and to her hips, and I slide my finger under the elastic and pull them down her hips. “Lift,” I say and I grip it and drag it down and she lifts her legs up so can remove them more easily. I look at her to make sure she was still okay with all of this, and I see she is nervous. But her eyes also look at me with dark hunger. “You still okay with this?”

“I am,” she squeaks.

“You sure?” I say, standing up on my knees on the bed. She nods. “I am going to ask you to open these legs for me, love. Are you okay with that?” I say this sternly. I need her to understand that my intentions were far from pure. She looks me in my eyes and I see her swallow heavily.

“I am so sure,” she whimpers.

Relief and arousal floods through me at the same time. “Thank fuck,” I breathe and then, “Open.” I grab one ankle and help to place it far away from the other and I maneuver both of us so there’s a bit more space for me and I settle down between her legs. I could already see her arousal glistening in the faint light. Salivating, I kiss her soft inner thighs and hook my one arm around her upper thigh, holding her in place. Then I take a finger, the same finger that has already been inside of her, and run it up and down spreading her arousal. She responds by squirming a little, she is biting her lip. I use my hand to spread her open slightly and then I press my tongue to her and I am overcome with her taste and emotions and the feeling of my cock becoming even harder. I lick up to her clit and then gently suck on it and she bucks her hips, and I feel victorious. “You taste so good,” I say. I drag my tongue down and it sinks into her wet mess at her opening and I drink her in. “So very wet,” I say as I suck on her again. Her hips start to move, it seems, of their own accord and she lets out little moans and she reaches down and grabs my hair. I am so into that. “Noah, oh my god,” she cries. I feel like a god between her legs.

“You want my fingers?” I ask.

“Yes.” No hesitation.

I slowly and carefully push two fingers into her and I hold my breath as I feel her insides clench around them. I pump them in and out of her slowly and curl my fingers and she is moaning, and just like the previous time she tries to close her legs but my body is in the way. “Baby, take my hand,” I reach my free hand up and she takes it and grips it. “Is it too much?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she moans, “It feels so good.”

“Grip my hand tighter when it gets too much. I need you to hold on for me,” I look her in the eye. “I am going to keep going, okay?”

She nods and I pump my fingers again and then I lower my mouth and lick over her clit and when I feel her hips move and her grip on my hand tighten, I lick faster and harder and I keep going until she tells me that she is going to come and I keep going. Her hips lose rhythm and I look up at her and watch her utter beauty as she comes apart against my mouth. She brings her free hand up and clamps it over her mouth and I still hear her cries.

When she stills, I remove my fingers from her and climb up towards her so I can kiss her. She is breathing heavily, so am I. I kiss her tenderly, and she responds eagerly, her hands traveling all over my arms, shoulders and back. “I don’t know how this will work,” I say as I dare to look down at myself. “But can I please, please fuck you?” I bury my face in her neck, I have to concentrate to not just mindlessly rub against any part of her.

She pulls back from me and hold my face between her hands and she looks in my eyes for a moment, looking back and forth between my eyes. Love radiates from her and she pulls my face down to kiss my nose. “What do you need from me?” she whispers. “I need to be inside you, as soon as I can possibly manage,” I smile at her.

“What did you mean you don’t know how it works?” she says looking concerned.

“I just mean because I am a spirit. A ghost. I don’t know. But, honestly, the boner feels very, very real to me.”

“Yeah?” she asks and her hand is feeling me over the boxer briefs I have on. I have to squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the feeling. “Feels real to me too. Hang on.” She lifts up slightly and pushes the briefs down a bit so I am free from the constraint. She wraps her hand around me slowly and pumps up and down a few times excruciatingly slow. She lets go and her index finger teasingly swipes up the bead of pre-come from my tip and she sucks it off of her finger and if I was not already dead….

“Christ!”

“Definitely real,” she giggles. “Fuck, I didn’t expect you to taste that good,” her face suddenly serious.

“Um, thank you, baby, but we do not have time for you to taste more,” I say quickly. “I am already about to explode and I haven’t even been near to being inside of you.”

She lifts up and kisses me again. She is sloppy this time, running her tongue along my bottom lip. “I don’t mind waiting,” she whispers.

“Lay back,” I tell her and she keeps looking at my face with such adoration. I rip the briefs off and then I take a hold of myself and run my cock up and down her a few times, across her clit spreading the wetness a bit, she throws her arms up above her head and sighs loudly. “You ready? I’ll go nice and slow.”

“I’m ready,” and she wraps her legs around my hips trying to encourage me closer.

I slowly and carefully push past the resistance at her entrance and keep going until I am completely buried inside the heat and clenching wetness. I literally could not breathe. I fall forward on top of her, my elbows trying to keep some of my weight off her. Her arms wrap around me immediately, her thighs gripping me and she peppers my face with kisses while I struggle to inhale. “You are fucking perfect,” I manage to get out. “Perfect.” She started squirming under me. “Please,” I choke out. “Wait a second. I need to calm down.”

She patiently rubs my shoulders while she licks at my neck. “I love you,” she whispers in my ear.

“I love you,” I sob into her skin.

She soothingly rubs my back and I hear her take a deep breath near my ear and then she exhales slowly and then deep breath in again and without a word, I join her breathing and then I start feeling like I have a bit of control back. So, I start moving just a little and work up to a steady rhythm and she opens her legs wider and clings to my arms. “You feel so good,” she gasps and I cannot believe that this is real, and I have to tell myself that I had better not start overthinking.

I lift myself up a bit so can have more leverage and I look down at her face contorted with pleasure, her body beneath me, the body that I have been looking at for years, never dreaming this would be possible, the body that I knew I was lucky to just be able to briefly touch in a moment of realness and here it was – gorgeous and writhing with me deeply inside of it. I fuck her harder and slightly faster and I hear the slap of skin on skin. She cries out and swears and moans. And this, I think, could not possible feel any better if I had been alive. Suddenly, she makes eye contact with me and she nods with very small movements and her hand sneaks down between us and she touches herself. “Fuck, baby that’s so hot,” I say to her. “I am not going to last much longer.” “Please,” she says and she tries to sit up and reaches up for me, so I lower myself down so I can kiss her and she kisses me. “I am coming,” she says. I grab her hand and we kind of lose control at the same time and I still most of my movements and she is twitching and gripping me so tight and it lasts so long. She bites my shoulder and then licks it to sooth the bite. I stay inside her and collapse and our breaths are hot and heavy.

“Baby, just let me stay inside a little longer,” I say because I am so sensitive. She jolts every few seconds as aftershocks go through her. “I love you,” I tell her again because I need her to know so badly. How much she means to me. “I love you.” “I love you so much,” she rubs my shoulders again and then starts running her fingers over my back lightly scratching. Goosebumps form over my whole body.

“I don’t need heaven, ever,” I whisper in her ear. “I have already found mine.”

19. You You wake up and you smell him, your face resting against his shoulder blade, your naked body curled up around his, his back to you, your arm around his waist and you are holding on to him like your life depended on it. When you open your eyes, you realise that your breasts are pressed up against Jesus’ face on his back and you cannot help but smile at that.

For a long time, you just admire his broad shoulders with a dusting of freckles where the tattoos do not cover his skin. You look at where he has slept his hair into standing at odd angles. You listen to him breathe, slow and even with a slight whistle when he inhales through his nose. When you move your feet a little, you feel the course hair on his legs. Every single part of him was so absurdly perfect. Except when your brain starts thinking, again, that he is dead. You press your hand to his chest, press it firmly. You do not feel a heartbeat.

When he stirs a while later, he turns to face you with a dopey smile on his face. His face is slightly swollen from sleep, his lips are puffy. His lips are a part of him that you have been greatly underappreciating. They are just so kissable. His eyes are squinted almost shut. Beautiful.

“Hey,” he croaks and moves closer so he can hold you, his long arms wrapping around you and his mouth resting against your forehead. “How are you doing?”

“Mmm, I feel great,” you say. “And you?”

“Oh, I am so very good and great and relaxed and wonderful,” he smiles against your face.

You laugh and kiss his chin. “You are so warm,” you say as you snuggle closer.

“And you smell amazing. You always do in the mornings.”

“You smell me in the mornings?”

“Absolutely, I do,” he says and drags his nose along your face until its buried in your hair.

You lay in comfortable silence and almost fall back asleep when he says, “That flash drive is haunting me.”

“Shall I go get it?” you ask. You have thought about it, but there have also been many other things on your mind. The way he kept calling you baby the previous evening being one of the things.

“I will, I’m just nervous still.”

“I have to go to the bathroom anyway. And I am ready to hold your hand. But if you want to wait, that is also fine, you know that.”

“Okay,” he says apprehensively. You search and find your shirt that was flung off you and pulled it over your head. “Leave the underwear,” he says pouting at you.

You make sure to pull the shirt down as low as it would go when you leave to the bathroom first, and then to go find that laptop where the flash drive is still inserted.

Noah is already sitting up and he has arranged the pillows for you both to be comfy. You climb in get under the covers and scoot closer and you place the laptop on both your laps. “You do it,” he says.

“Okay,” you run your finger along the mousepad and click to open the folder. Inside are photos, videos and audio files. You just know that whatever you are about to see is going to make you cry. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “We can stop whenever you want. Where do you want to start?”

“Photos.”

You click and then you start clicking through the album and it was already a lot to handle. Many photos of Noah with friends, you only recognise Nick. Photos of Noah where he was so young. Photos with his skin in varying stages of being tattooed. His hair in different styles. There many photos of him making silly faces, many with him holding musical instruments, many with animals.

Noah was quiet for the most part, only commenting occasionally. “Is that a dermal piercing?”

“It looks like,” you smile.

The two of you can only guess at the other people. Noah tells you that some of the people look familiar, but he could not really place them.

So, then you go over to videos.

Videos were mostly of him hanging out with his friends, making jokes, being silly, drinking, making music. Many videos of Noah singing, some, where was very young, singing songs, clearly still finding his feet. But as Noah ages in the videos his talent becomes more and more pronounced. His voice improving, the songs improving. Videos of him playing guitar, playing keyboard, making music on the computer.

Noah would hide his face with some videos and with others, he would nod his head along with the sounds. You loved the insight this gave. The details neither of you would have ever known.

Until the video that started playing was a slideshow.

Noah gripped your hand slightly tighter and you squeezed back as images cycled with a Matchbox Twenty song playing. Tears were rolling down your face silently as you couldn’t help but imagine being at the funeral, knowing that you have lost this man. At the same time, you know that it happened.

Noah eventually stopped the video when he could not take it anymore. His head dropped down and you moved closer. He turned and buried his face in your neck and you held him as close as you could manage. A few sobs shook his body and then you couldn’t hold it back anymore either. You could guess what he was feeling. He didn’t have to say anything. The loss of everyone he knew, the life he knew and mostly himself. This life that he could not really remember.

He fell asleep after a while, you running your fingers through his hair slowly.

Later he softly kissed your neck and whispers, “How do you think we would have met?”

You think for a moment before you say, “Me getting a tattoo and you coming by to visit Nick. Or maybe at a concert, in the crowd.”

“By the looks of how rowdy my friends and I seemed to get, you could have been a neighbour that complained about the noise,” he adds.

“Maybe just at the grocery store, I would have been checking you out for sure.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

“We could have both been hiding from people in a social situation,” he grips your hand.

“Oh, I can see that,” you smile.

“We will never know, and that kills me,” he whispers.

You resist making a comment about that. “But we did meet. It might not have been the way it should have happened, but you found me regardless.”

“That is true,” he takes a few breaths. “I would have been staring at you too, by the way. In the grocery store.”

“Thanks,” you laugh.

20. Noah The thought plagues me non-stop. I don’t want to think it, I actively try not to, but just keeps coming up. For days and days when I am with her, when I am not, I keep wondering. I try to leave her alone a little bit, to see if it goes away. But it doesn’t.

“Noah,” she calls out into the living room. She is reading a book on the couch, but she looks up and keeps searching for me.

Maybe now is the time to bring it up. I walk closer and reach out my hand to her and she takes it. She moves over and I sit next to her.

“Are you okay?” she asks it very quietly. She knows something is eating me. Then new thoughts about how well she knows me crashes around in my head and I don’t know what I even want to say. “Something is bothering you,” she states. “Did I do something wrong?”

My heart breaks. “No,” I kiss the back of her hand. “But I have been thinking about something lately and I have to just tell you.”

She just nods. Her mouth is already turning down slightly, her eyes jumping back and forth between mine. I take both her hands in mine and turn towards her more. I can hear her take a breath and hold it. I look down at her knees.

“I am terrified that I am keeping you from living your life,” I say, still looking down. She says nothing. “What if you should be having a moment meeting a real live human being you should be dating? What if you spend too much time with me and you miss the life you should be living?”

She still keeps quiet, I can hear her breathing has picked up, but I cannot bring myself to look at her.

“I am sure you are my soulmate,” I carry on. “But maybe I am not yours. Maybe we never would have met, maybe I just died and you have another soulmate out there waiting for you.”

“What are you saying?” she finally speaks. Her voice is small.

“I don’t want to selfishly hold you back,” I say.

Tears splash down onto her arms and our hands and I look. Her bottom lip is trembling and a steady stream of tears are running down her face. “This sounds like you are saying you don’t want to be here with me anymore.”

“It’s not about what I want,” I try.

“It is, though,” she states.

“I want what is best for you.”

“And you don’t think that it’s you?”

“I am considering the possibility,” I whisper.

“Have I given you any indication that I need more than you?”

I keep quiet this time. I am hurting her and it was not my intention.

She cries audibly and I hear her breath catch and feel her shake. “Do you want to leave?” she asks simply.

“No,” I start. “Noah,” she interrupts me. “Don’t bullshit me right now. Tell me the hard truth. Do you want to leave?”

I take a moment to think how to phrase this. “With my whole heart, I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” she wipes her tears and takes a shaky breath. “Here are my thoughts,” and she touches my cheek until I make eye contact and then drops her hand. Her stare is intense and the tears are threatening. “You do not get to choose for me. It’s that simple. You make decisions about what you want and I make decisions about what I want.” She waits for it to sink into my head. “I need you to stop being noble, or whatever, and just understand that I can tell you to fuck off if I want to.”

I nod. “Alright.”

“If I am your soulmate, you are mine. I know the situation is not ideal. I know it’s weird and neither of us know how this works. But I love you. And fuck you for saying all that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know what you meant,” she says, “And I need you to trust me. Trust that I will be honest with you if I need something to change. Do you think I haven’t thought about these things? That maybe I am holding you back from heaven or some shit?”

“You are heaven,” I smile.

“Shut up, Noah,” she whispers. “All I know is we have this, whatever it is. I know I love you and I know that I choose you over all things living. It hurts me that you think I would be better off with someone else. That I need to go look for someone that isn’t you.”

“It kills me to think that,” I say quickly. “I hate the thought.”

“So, stop it,” she says taking my face in her hands. “Stop trying to fix everything. Stop thinking so much. This is immensely fucked up, but it is our fucked up and we get to make it of it what we choose.”

I smile at her. I place my hands over hers. She kisses me quickly. “You are too wise.”

“You need to stop letting these thoughts fester and then run away with you.”

“I realise I can overthink sometimes,” I sigh.

‘You think?” she wasn’t even smiling.

21. You You gasp awake, immediately trying to sit up, your breath hitching as pain ripped through your chest. It felt like you couldn’t inhale as the images of your dream is all you can see. Your limbs tangle in the blankets and the darkness has you confused.

“Shhhhh,” he says next you as he tries to get a hold of you, but you thrash against him and you have an overwhelming feeling that you needed to run, get away. Then you hear the sob tear through your throat. “Hey, it’s alright.”

He is persistent in his efforts to touch you, tether you to reality. Despite your violent movements, he gets a grip on you and he gently pulls you closer. Slowly, with your body fighting with all its might, you give in and allow him.

You begin to realise that it was a dream. A terrible dream, but it still hurt so bad. It still felt real. You felt the rain on your body, how the water drenched through your clothes, how it weighed down your hair that stuck to your neck and forehead. You could smell the fuel, the wind blowing, and the smell of tyres that had been desperately braked too hard. You saw the puddles of water and how the lights reflected in it. But most horrifically you saw him, your Noah, trapped in a car. His head was limply hanging against his chest, blood running down his brow. You walk closer and try to open the door of the car to get to him, but your hands to through the door like you were a ghost. You see inside that his arm was clearly broken and that his body was strangely close to the steering wheel where the airbag had deflated. His body looked wrong, broken. He was unsuccessfully trying to take a breath, with weak, jerky movements. You watched him die. Watched as the little bit of life drained out of him and he went still.

The horror and desperation were all that you could begin to process. You would give anything, absolutely anything, to turn back time, to replace your body with his. You wanted to scream to whoever was listening that they could have whatever they wanted, if you could save him. You wanted to climb into the car and fix him, you wanted to climb in and join him. Your entire being wanted to correct this mistake.

“Is it a bad dream?” his voice says next to you.

You cling to him with all your might, your sobs now so heavy that you could not talk or explain or breathe.

He rubs your back, holds you back and whispers in your ear that everything is alright, that he is there when you are ready to tell him. He soothingly hushes you.

You could not even feel relief that he was there, that it was him that was right there. Because you knew that what you dreamt was what happened. This beautiful soul that was comforting you, had really died right there, his chest crushed during the impact. But you weren’t there to help or even witness it. He had been all alone. Your heart was broken, because you would have endured all of that if it meant that he not been alone. You would have died right next to him if you could.

After what felt like hours, the sobs had stopped, but the tears still ran down your cheeks and into his shirt. Your face felt hot and swollen. “Do you want to know how you died?”

So, you tell him as gently as you could. He was quiet while he was stroking your hair, listening to the whole story without a word.

“I don’t remember any of this,” he says his voice small and very soft. “But,” he swallows. “I do remember feeling calm when I died. I have no memory of what happened to my body, but I remember that I didn’t feel alone, or scared. It felt like someone was there to help me through it.”

“Like God?” you ask.

He was quiet again for a very long time. “Maybe it was you.”

You look up at his face in confusion.

“How could you have known what happened if I can’t even remember it now? Maybe your soul was there with me. Looking after me and helping me die. Maybe our souls have been entwined for a lot longer than we thought.”

You did not know what to make of what he said. But you liked the idea that even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him in a way.

“I wish I could have saved you,” you croak.

“You did, love.”

[End]

Bonus Chapter (kind of)

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative: Connecticut (#5)

Hoo boy, it's been a minute! But hey, here we are again, after taking some extra time to figure stuff out. Welcome to the fifth official poll of the State Birds Initiative! Before the poll, though, one thing real quick. My suggestion is that you read the post below before voting in the poll below. That's especially important if you're lacking any context about the birds being presented as the new (or old) State Bird of the Nutmeg State, Connecticut. This is to be fully informed as to why these are being presented, and to make your choices appropriately. Lastly, some of these birds, you will notice, may go against some of the rules listed in the introduction post. All is explained after the jump where the explanations are, I promise you that. And apologies in advance, the spiel before the actual bird selection is...long. But with that...OK! Here's the poll!

Welcome to the Nutmeg State! A small state, mostly known for being between Boston and New York City, this is one of the foundational states of southern New England, while also having a somewhat...divided identity, we'll say. So, I grew up in CT, for part of my childhood, in both the classic upscale suburbs, and in the middle of the goddamn woods, right on the Connecticut River. For the record, the name "Nutmeg State" is based off of salesmen from the state known for peddling nutmegs. However, there's some speculation that the nutmegs sold were actually made of wood, but that's also probably from people who didn't know that nutmegs were supposed to be grated, and instead assumed they had to be cracked like walnuts. They tried, that failed, and they accused Connecticut Yankees for selling fake nutmeg as a result. So, yeah, a confusing legend at the root of the state's nickname.

You'll notice my use of the word "Yankee" there. Well, despite New York's domination of the term, it should arguably be most associated with Connecticut. "Yankee Doodle" is literally the state song; people from CT were previously and historically referred to as Yankees (which was also an epithet applied to northerners in general, to be fair); and it's actually possible the word was first used by the Dutch in reference to Connecticut settlers, according to multiple theories and historical references. But maybe most prominently, Yankee was used as a demonym for people from CT by one of its most favorite residents: Samuel Clemens, AKA Mark Twain.

Twain is, of course, Connecticut's most famous author, having written some of his most famous works while living with his family in Connecticut in his West Hartford house (which every central Connecticut middle school kid has been to at least once, I guaran-goddamn-tee it). Fun fact, though! Did you know...uh...ah, fuck it. Why keep stalling at this point? Look, as much as I love talking about Mark Twain, he was nothing to do with this post. Fact of the matter is...this was a hard one.

Look, I love Connecticut. It was the first state I remember living in, having moved there when I was a kid from the United States Virgin Islands, which I had been really looking forward to for a bunch of reasons. Admittedly (and unsurprisingly), a lot of that was because I was looking forward to seeing the birds! As a kid, I was also obsessed with birds, and I had never seen the birds in the US mainland before. It was an exciting time for me, and I honestly enjoyed growing up in CT, for the most part. I'd be there for almost 6 years of my life, and I have a lot of fond memories of the state. But, uh...ironically enough...finding State Bird nominees for Connecticut has been HARD AS HELL.

We will, of course, talk in GREAT detail about the American Robin (Turdus migratorius), as it's an important bird for more states than just Connecticut, but I'll give you a spoiler now: this is a boring choice for a State Bird. For any state. Don't get me wrong, I love robins! They're an extremely charismatic and iconic bird, and everybody has seen them at least once in their life if they live in the USA. They're also most likely an early bird (pun slightly intended) for people to encounter on a personal standpoint. Again, we'll get to them, but they're a notable entry in this list. And if one of the states kept the American Robin, I would understand. But, uh...is that state Connecticut?

OK, let's look at the state in the same vein as we have others. I'm sure this won't be the last difficult state to examine in the future of this project, so why not do the same here? Starting with habitat, Connecticut is another state placed within the Northeastern Coastal Zone, with a ton of deciduous forests dominated by oak, chestnut, hemlock, and white pine. There was a lot of clearance during early settlement and beyond, but succession has taken over in recent years to grow the forests back. The state's cut in half by the Connecticut Valley, with large floodplains dominated by maple and cottonwood, with the large Connecticut River right in the center of the valley. Finally, the Berkshires in the northwest corner of the state give us some classic New England flair with sugar maple (Acer saccharum), ash, beech, birch, oak, and hemlock trees on higher-altitude slopes, creating a hilly area that turns beautiful colors in fall. Man, I love Connecticut autumns. And the rest of the year, for that matter.

OK, what are Nutmeggers most known for, culturally and historically? It's a diverse state with a lot of mixed culture, partially as a result of its proximity to New York City. A lot of people tend to joke that Connecticut is just New York City, especially people from elsewhere in New England. And having been to NYC a lot when I was a kid, with a mom who worked there part of the week, and an aunt who lived there all of the week...yeah, fair. But Connecticut has a much more detailed culture than that. It's the home of the cotton giiiAAAAAAH, bad place to start that list. Uh, let's see, it's the home of whaliiiiiiing. Jesus. Uh...home of Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe? OK, that's better. It's a major seat of the Industrial Revolution in the United States, leading to it being a production hub for textiles, clocks, typewriters, machining, sewing machines, steam engines, aircraft, and honestly, women's rights to a certain degree. After all, it's the home of the Radium...Girls. Huh. OK, CT's history has some bumps in it, but what state's history doesn't?

As for modern Nutmeggers, they're industrious, generally well-educated, and honestly quite a bit eccentric. I've gone back to the state a few times in the last couple of years, and I forgot how honestly weird people are there. In a good way, not in the fucked-up MAGA sense of the word. It's a state whose people are unafraid to express themselves, from my experience. Probably a result of the diversity in the state, and the diverse perspectives that result. Its political atmosphere is a bit complicated, but overall pretty liberal. Which...doesn't translate super-well into birds at first blush, but hey, we'll see what we get!

OK, with that, let's jump into the selection of the birds for this list. Real talk, if anybody has a suggestion that I hadn't brought up here, send it my way! I will absolutely add another poll if there are entries I think could bear fruit. But, in the meantime, read on if you're interested in the possible choices for the State Bird of Connecticut!

American Robin (Turdus migratorius)

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find an citizen of the United States of America who hasn't seen a robin. This is, by far, one of our most iconic songbirds, and is certainly one of the most common and widespread. For some of us, they're a sign of spring. For others, they used to be a sign of spring, until global warming prompted some individuals to stick around through the winter, shifting their diet to frugivory a bit more and brightening the snow as well. They're prolific breeders with bright blue-green eggs (which are iconic in their own right), and can have up to three broods in a given season! Extremely successful and very common. And that...is a problem, for our purposes.

See, Connecticut, Michigan, and Wisconsin have the American Robin (Turdus migratorius) for their state bird, and none of them actually have a good reason for that choice. In Wisconsin, it was chosen by schoolkids because it was recognizable. That was also the reason for the Michigan Audubon Society to choose it as state bird. And Connecticut? Absolutely no goddamn idea. It's almost certainly for the same reason, but there is no real recorded reason for the choice of the American Robin as a state bird, as far as I can tell. For literally all of those states, it's a pretty bad choice by virtue of not being a good choice, at the very least. But that said...I mean, it's not the worst possible choice for a State Bird. For one state, anyway.

Robins, for the record, were named after a different robin entirely: the European Robin (Erithacus rubecula). Another red-breasted and beloved songbird, the European Robin was an immediate thought when American settlers saw the American Robin, hence why I keep saying "American". The two are so often confused in pop-culture, even Mary Poppins was guilty of it! That GIF above comes from the film, and in case you haven't realized it yet, that's an American Robin in England. Yeah. Wrong bird to use as a model for your animatronic, Disney. That has bothered me since I was a little kid, I swear to GOD. Erroneous film biogeography is one of my biggest pet peeves...but that's a separate conversation.

Back to the American Robin. Personally, I love robins of all species, and even recently did some genomics work with them (DNA extraction is fun). They're a commonly seen species, and a great entry-level bird for kids to get into birdwatching and nature. As an American icon, I genuinely think these guys should get some recognition...but I'm hard-pressed to say Connecticut needs them as a State Bird. We'll see what people think, but there's not a great case for them to get the title. To keep it...like I said, we'll see. Maybe the others won't be deemed as good a fit for the state. For now, let's move on from a popular backyard bird to a MUCH less popular one.

Blue-winged Warbler (Vermivora cyanoptera)

Here's the eBird pick for Connecticut, and for good reason! The vast majority of the Blue-winged Warbler's (Vermivora cyanoptera) breeding population is in...Wisconsin. Wait, what? Hold on...yeah, actually, Wisconsin, New York, Missouri, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia all have higher shares of the population that Connecticut, with 5% overall. That's still a lot better than the American Robin's share in CT (0.2%), but still...seems like that eBird article is SEVERELY outdated, or I'm using the database wrong somehow. Either way...huh. Well, let's make an argument for the Blue-winged Warbler, anyway.

Blue-winged Warblers are a species of some conservation concern, making them automatically of interest. They're also extremely interesting to geneticists and ornithologists because of their relationship to other members of Vermivora, especially the Golden-wined Warbler (Vermivora chrysoptera) and extinct Bachman's Warbler (Vermivora bachmanii), with having documented hybrid offspring with the former that's of interest for various reasons. But outside of that, they of course breed in Connecticut, and represent an interesting bird to look for and find, with a recognizable song and appearance. It's also prized by birdwatchers, and would be a good bird for any aspiring or experienced birdwatchers. It also inhabits shrubland, which is of some conservation interest to CT government and environmental officials. But other than that...not too much else.

Connecticut Warbler (Oporornis agilis)

No. Look, I'm just gonna say this now: no. The Connecticut Warbler (Oporornis agilis) not only doesn't breed in the state (and possibly has never bred in the state), but it's pretty much not found there. Like, at all. This is not an easy warbler to get anywhere in its range in the US, but Connecticut isn't included in that distribution. "But lonelywretch," you scream at your computer screen, "why is it called the Connecticut goddamn Warbler if it isn't even from the state?" First of all, not to police your emotions, but stop screaming; way overboard for this situation. Second of all, it's called the Connecticut Warbler because its describer, ornithologist Alexander Wilson, first saw it in a fly-by during migration while in Connecticut. And...yeah, that's it. They do fly through the state very occasionally during migration, but it's definitely not a reliable bird to count on for local birders there. Honestly...bad bird for the state.

Side note here: there's a lot of talk about renaming birds that are named after people, and I agree with that in almost every case. But here's a hot take to elaborate on in another series: location-based names need to be re-examined. Not all of them are bad by any means, but the Connecticut Warbler is a great example of a bird whose name makes NO FUCKING SENSE. Rename this bird, I BEG of you. If anybody has suggestions for a renaming of this bird, throw them in notes for something! Keep in mind, Gray-headed Warbler is taken (by Myiothlypis griseiceps), so come up with somethin' else. Warranted inclusion in the list for its name, but we're gonna move on.

Osprey (Pandion halieetus)

It's at this point in the list where we get into some interesting candidates...and where I had the most trouble. But I'm fairly satisfied with what I've come up with, so let's move forward! This entry's a somewhat controversial pick for a few reasons, but an interesting one for a bunch of reasons. Now, I don't know about you, but I love Osprey (Pandion halieetus) a whole bunch. An iconic raptor, as well as a very unique one, they're a pescivorous bird found throughout the entire continent. And in Europe. And Asia. And Africa, Australia, and South America. Yeah, they're a cosmopolitan species, found in every continent except for Antarctica. That automatically should make them a bit dodgy of a choice for a State Bird, since they can be found in every state (yes, even occasionally Hawaii). So, why Connecticut?

First off, Connecticut has an intimate connection with the shore and rivers, especially the Connecticut River. Seemingly a loose reason, but the Osprey, AKA the river hawk or sea hawk (we'll get to that later) is an iconic riparian raptor, and a common sight in Connecticut. Having grown up on a river in the state, we used to see Osprey all the time, and it was awesome every time. But their commonness in the state is an important story in and of itself. And, if you know anything about Osprey at all, you know where this is headed. And Connecticut is a great example of this story.

The Osprey is one of the most iconic victims of the DDT crisis that hit the country, as well as a symbol of the environmental success story that resulted from its banning. I won't go into the full story if you haven't heard it, but the short of it is that the pesticide DDT was inadvertently ingested by fish-eating raptors, especially the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus) and the Osprey, causing the eggs they laid to have weakened, soft shells. This caused a massive decrease in these and other species, nearly driving both into extinction. However, once environmental movements prompted by Rachel Carson and her book Silent Spring advocated for its eventual banning, the populations recovered. And in Connecticut, they've recovered A LOT.

In 1940, somewhere near 1,000 nests were recorded for Osprey between New York City and Boston. By 1970, the number in Connecticut was down...to 8. Jesus Christ, that's a hell of a crash! One of the worst in the country, in fact. However, today in Connecticut, there are 688 active nests in the state. Which, yeah, doesn't seem like the ultimate success compared to previous, but what's interesting is the rate of increase. Because in 2014, according to the Connecticut State Audubon, there were only 210. In ten years, the number of breeding ospreys known was more than tripled. That's incredible. This has quickly made the Osprey a symbol of conservation in the state, because of a massive amount of monitoring increase. There are states with more of a population, but Connecticut has a pretty good argument for having the Osprey. But that said...other states could also claim this species. Florida and Maryland definitely have claims on it for population size alone, not to mention, well...the most iconic state of all when it comes to having ospreys as a symbol. But we'll get to that one WAY later. just keep that in mind before you vote for Connecticut to have the Osprey.

Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus)

The Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus OR Astur striatus as of recent taxonomic proposals), on the other hand, is another bird of interest. The smallest hawk in the United States of America, this already seems a fitting choice for one of the smallest states in the country. It's listed as endangered in the state, immediately making it of interesting conservation focus. The reason for this status is likely because of window-strikes, which are common for the species in Connecticut, meaning that there's some public outreach needed to protect it. Protecting the forests they nest in (which are in danger) is one thing, but putting up protective window decals to help the species is another. Definitely a cause for focus.

However, there is one...minor detail that makes this a harder fight for public opinion, as well as a potentially ironic one. This is the first species we've discussed whose diet is basically exclusively birds. If you're in the Northeastern United States, and you've seen a bird get attacked and taken at your birdfeeders, it's almost certainly this guy. Which is cool, and important for the species' survival, but the average person being asked to protect a bird that kills other birds, especially birds like the American Robin, is...a palpable irony. Granted, it genuinely needs protecting, and has monitoring programs in the state, and it is a genuinely interesting raptor! But, this is a slightly harder fight to win because of that noncharismatic factor. But hey, it's a cool bird in genuine trouble in the state, it's a scrappy bird for a small state, and it's an interesting species to highlight!

American Black Duck (Anas rubripes)

This is another difficult bird to fight for, but one that needs attention, for God's sake. The American Black Duck (Anas rubripes) is a rapidly disappearing duck species, and not for the reason you think. Let's get to Connecticut representation first. It was the first bird to be used for the Connecticut Migratory Duck Stamp in 1993, the first one issued for the state. It's one of the few states in which it breeds (although it's not the primary state of focus, detracting from its candidacy). And, it's a controlled bird by Fish and Game, meaning hunting of the Black Duck is extremely limited. There is, surprisingly, a point to that statement, but I won't be elaborating here. We'll see how the vote goes, and I'll address it in the Results post.

So, why is this a potential issue? Well, Maine and New York arguably should get this bird instead, as they have a higher population. And the breeding population of this bird is incredibly important to promote, because it's disappearing. Why is it disappearing? Well, some of you may have looked at that picture and asked yourselves: "Wait...isn't that just a female Mallard?" And the answer is, no! But a lot of people think that. A lot of birds think that. Mallards think that. Which means that hybrids between Mallards and Black Ducks are incredibly high. SO high, in fact, the species is being bred and hybridized out of existence! They're so similar to Mallards on a genetic level at this point, that they'll be subsumed if their individual populations aren't preserved. So, yeah, these guys deserve some focus. Do I think they're a great Connecticut symbol? Well, to be fair, the state is regularly assumed to be either greater New York City or greater Massachusetts by outsiders. And it's not; it has its own identity that deserves to be preserved for what it is. So, yeah, maybe a good fit for Connecticut after all.

Also, it's the state in New England with the highest proportion of Black Americans (yes, even more than Massachusetts), so...I dunno, that's also something? Probably not, but as a black dude that grew up in CT, I felt the need to bring that up.

Snowy Egret (Egretta thula)

OK, sing it with me now!

Yankee Doodle went to town, a-riding on a pony; Stuck a feather in his hat, and called it "macaroni"! Yankee Doodle, give it up! Yankee Doodle Dandy, Mind the music and the step, and with the girls be handy!

Ooh, that last line aged a little rough, but Yankee Doodle! The Connecticut state anthem! Yes, really. Most Americans in the Northeast know this song, but it's got a unique resonance for Nutmeggers, seeing as it was allegedly based on the son of a Connecticut mayor! The state chose it as their song in 1978, and it's been a beloved symbol ever since. But, for the uninitiated (and probably to most school kids like I was), there is one weird word in there that needs a little explanation: macaroni.

Now, this does not, of course, reference the easy cheesy favorite of every child (and college student). No, this is a reference to an old 18th century term for a form of fashion back in the day. It's what the 2000s called "extra", or bourgeious (pronounced "bougie", of course). Basically, it's somebody who dressed WAY over the top in high-designed clothes and accessories to the point of looking...well, extra. Another applicable 2000s term would be "metrosexual", I guess. The macaroni became a satirical character in British culture, and would later become another character known as the "dandy". It's sort of a class-related satire, to be honest. In any case, the macaroni was known for over-the-top fashion, including...wigs.

So, what does literally any of this have to do with the Snowy Egret (Egretta thula)? More than you'd expect, actually. First off, the egret has a pompodour-like crest of feathers that makes it look quite like a stereotypical macaroni, in my opinion. Secondly, it does breed in Connecticut, albeit extremely rarely, sparely, and barely. Its population in the state used to be a lot greater...until people came around and starting hunting it down. Why, you ask?

Let's just go ahead and call that macaroni now, while we're at it. To be clear here, quite a lot of birds were used in millinery back in the day, but the Snowy Egret (and the Great Egret (Ardea alba), for that matter) are special. Those long white feathery plumes were heavily prized as hat decorations, enough so that the species nearly went extinct from hunting them for the hat trade. As a result of that, people began to turn their eye towards conservation of the species, and the protection of birds in general. Two women, Harriet Hemenway and Minna B. Hall, got a group of women together to protect the birds. They rallied the troops, and their organization became fairly popular. Eventually when they sought to name it, they did so after one of the most famous ornithologists in American history at the time: John James Audubon. And from there...well, you can guess.

The Audubon Society is one of the premiere bird conservation organizations in the world, and especially in the United States, and is well-known to the public sector. And it was born right here in...Massachusetts. Oh. Wait, have I jumped the gun on this one? Maybe a little, yeah. But, in my defense, the macaroni is linked to Connecticut through its state anthem, and the Snowy Egret is linked to the macaroni, as mentioned. But, OK, maybe this is a better proposal for Massachusetts, not Connecticut. But, uh...there may be another contender. Kind of.

Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor)

OK, here me out on this one. Look at this picture of a classic macaroni character (on the right, for the record). Does that hairdo not kinda look like the crest of the Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor)? Like, just a little bit, at least? I dunno, I can definitely see it. But OK, outside of that, is there another reason for the Tufted Titmouse to be the State Bird of Connecticut? Well, they're extremely common, they've got some charisma to them, and they're definitely found breeding in Connecticut. But...I don't know. I think they're plenty charismatic, but I'm not sure that makes them a great contender.

Still...they should be represented somewhere, right? I mean, the species breeds entirely in the USA, even though it can be found in Canada as well. Plus, other than being very recognizable, they're also an easy bird to find and support with backyard birdfeeding. And, if you want a fun fact about them, they're prone to kleptotrichy. That means, they pluck the fur from mammals to use as insulation in their nests! Yeah! They actually pick the winter coat off of dogs, and use it for their nests! Adorable. But yeah, does this really count for a good State Bird of Connecticut? I doubt it, but I'll let you vote! And I swear to God, it better not be just because of the name that it gets votes.

There you have it. Some complex and controversial choices. I miss any that you think are a valid choice for the state? Do let me know, and I may just issue another poll if this one isn't good enough. We shall see. But, for now, I think it's time to move onto the next state. And lemme tell you, I'm real excited about that one, since...well, I live there! And I have some ideas, lemme tell you. And some people will...disagree with me. For sure. Anyway, see you next time in Boston, kid!

See you next time, and happy birding!

[katerinaaqu]

Okay so that people will not think that I am an unecessary hater here are some things that I actually liked or loved about Epic the Musical:

So everyone who knows me, I openly express my dislike on the changes of Epic the Musical (although as I say many times the music is really good, the production very passionate and I congratulate the creator for getting so much love despite the fact that I personally dislike his artistic choice on the matter)

However here's a small list of things that I actually liked very much about the musical (sorry if it gets long!)

The first two sagas:

Honestly the two sagas (Troy and Storm) were masterpieces not only song-wise but also plot-wise. The adaptation remained loose with many things being adapted for modern audiences but it was still generic to the Epic Cycle in general and Odyssey in particular. The pace of the plot was quick like the fall of Troy was, the heroes speak as if they are on the right ("tonight we shall make the Trojans pay") to encourage each other even though then the reality check falls on them. Amazing fast pace songs give their turn to a slow and dramatic one

Odysseus and Astyanax:

More specifically as a sequence on the above I really liked the way the myth was depicted and again very loosely adapted off Iliou Persis version which is the one version we know where Odysseus clearly kills the baby with his own hands by "throwing it off the walls". Even if generally I am more aligned with the version of the myth that has Neoptolemous doing it, the fact that we have the actual protagonist do the brutal act was a very good touch and I love it how he uses only that small and so under-analyzed concept and he created a very beautiful moral dilemma. The setting stone of "monster vs man" was a promising thing too (although I personally got disappointed at the actual execution of it because of the changes in storyline). The way that Odysseus knows it is the logical choice to kill the heir of Troy and it tears him apart inside is not just amazingly executed but also very much IC with Homer's Odysseus.

Full Speed Ahead:

No need for explanations here. The song was great, was keeping in touch with the original Odyssey, spirit of Odysseus on-point and the essence of it great! Although it was way too happy after the darkness of the "Just a Man" one can understand that the tension created should be released and somehow it did point out the coping mechanism of Odysseus at some parts of the Odyssey which also lead to many emotional breakdowns for Odysseus (ironically the most infamous was the one that got him to offend Poseidon in the first place)

Giving Eurylochus and Polites more lines:

Eurylochus is known for questioning the authority of Odysseus and Polites for being his best friend but in general we do not see too much of them in the Odyssey (especially Polites who only appears once as mentioned at Circe's island). Even if making Polites a bubbly token character to balance the whole emotional burden of the war was a bit too overused theme for me I didn't dislike it per se. And it was good that he plays a good balancing role there. Also generally speaking Eurylochus's character development was not bad either (daresay I liked his character development more than Epic!Odysseus! XD) because it starts from a strong but opinionated man to a basic arch-rival figure to the end part.

Which is why I was kinda disappointed that Polites was killed off at Polyphemus's cave because it seemed to me that he was there for the drama (even future scholiasts of the Odyssey do not think that Polites was in the cave at all yet alone killed in it) but again given that Polites is pretty much a clean slate character if that was like the major change of it I wouldn't necessarily mind it.

Warrior of the Mind:

The song was beautiful and it captured Athena's essence very well (minus the very much overused mind vs heart content of hers which is good that it was somehow rectified a bit with God Games given that Athena was never against emotions neither did she try to stop her champions from having them and she doesn't make separation of logic vs emotions. In fact she fires up emotions to her champions many times knowing what a helpful thing emotion is. I think he overplayed the fact that Athena encourages logic to make her "cold logic material" but that wasn't really my issue so much I mean it is just an over-used trope but it is not completely inaccurate).

It was interesting to connect the boar of Parnassus to Athena (which is again a common trope in greek mythology that gods send random tests for whoever is worthy) and how ellegedly Athena and Odysseus meet in this context. Again it has nothing to do with the original Odyssey and yet this loose adaptation of their meeting was an interesting interraction with a lot of potential and emotional connection. I also like how Athena appears more cold in her speech like "change from the way I designed you" or "don't disappoint me" which is basically a genuine trope of Athena's. Like every champion of hers that disappointed her (for example Tydeus) didn't really end up well! Which is a change I adored for the Musical adaptation

About 2.5/3 of "Remember Them"

Okay the part with the dialog with Athena had me cringing a bit but the rest of the song was a masterpiece. Odysseus saying that there is no time to bury or mourn but have time only to save themselves and remember their fallen friends afterwards is EXACTLY what Odysseus would say and encourage his men to work their backs on something to save themselves and get out of their nasty situation. Also the final 45 seconds of it with his name reveal was probably what hyped me and wanted to get into the musical in the first place (before I started disliking the changes) because it was EXACTLY how it would go down! Also the choice for Odysseus's name officially be revealed on that song was incredibly clever and very nicely chosen

So basically I would only remove the dialog with Athena there given how it just didn't do justice in my head to the extremely complicated situation that led to him revealing himself. I also felt that the line "let's grab the sheep and away we go" was a bit too hasty to show their escape given how much complicated it was but I also understand the way to keep the song going and that wouldn't be done by adding a dramatic angst in the middle. That would mean that there should be a song in-between with their escape and that the second half of "remember them" would turn into a reprise of some kind. So yeah I understand that.

How Much Longer:

That song was also amazing and again not an event that happens to Odyssey but something that perfectly aligns with the spirit of it. Having Eurylochus openly disagreeing here and Odysseus taking him to the side to talk to him, the way that Odysseus comes up with a crazy plan before to groppel upon the castle that floats in the sky etc. It was a great foreshadowing on the actual events that follow which again seem to align greatly with the Odyssey and the events of it even if that itself is not linked to the material itself.

Done For:

Again one more song that I hyped over was "Done For". Harmonies were perfect, the way that the two of them have a duet, which is something that doesn't happen before in order to signify their aligning was amazing and the way Odysseus acts like a cheeky bastard there was something I adored. (Of course got crushed with "Other Ways" hehehe but the build up till there was great. To be fair "Other Ways" till that freaking "I can't!" or the whole "seduce so you can kill him" theme which also kinda ruined it fo4 me, was also a masterpiece to me, like I mention to another post of mine it would be great if the song was to signify their intercourse). The song was a perfect adaptation of the homeric poem for modern audiences (for it doesn't include everything like Odysseus drinking the potion, Circe being terrified and in wonder that her spell doesn't work on him etc) and it keeps the essential part of their interraction making it into a great choreography (with the exceptions of the "I have to protect my nymphs!" thing but again if that was the only change they made on it I wouldn't mind it so much at all in fact it is interesting that the nymph servants of the goddess mentioned in the Odyssey make a cameo here. Would i have liked that we wouldn't get a toned down Circe and instead we got her in her gray glory? Absolutely. But like I said if that was the only thing added here i wouldn't have minded it so much. Unfortunately though it was the whole Circe misadventure that was changed so yeah for me it was potential lost but i hyped at Done For).

Chorus of the Underworld:

Like you know I am one of the exceptions that wasn't impressed by the Underworld Saga and found it brushed off however the idea to add the dead men singing and bringing more guilt to Odysseus was an idea I knew Jorge would go with and he did and it was interesting. Not only the melody of that part was really beautiful and haunting but also the impact was great (I will just choose to ignore the part of "ruthlessness is mercy" and the "klling of cyclops" because of thesame reason that I didn't like the dialog between Athena and Odysseus before the revelation of his name). I also liked the parts of Odysseus's solos but for the rest of it again I think it would be more impactful to me if the original plot was followed more faithfully.

Tiresias song was good, very good actually, as a song but as I mentioned to another post of mine, too vague, too not answering anything.

The rest felt scrapped off. I would love to see at least one or two of the interractions of Odysseus with the dead especially his mother because as I mentioned before it is of outmost importance that Odysseus knew beyond doubt that his mother didn't just die waiting, she died BECAUSE she was waiting. And that has a big difference for me. But again that is just my opinion.

Aphrodite speaking of other types of love:

Gods Games is just a not for me for many reasons but the detail of Aphrodite mentioning a mother's love intead of romantic love was a great touch and amazingly changed from the usual reoccuring pattern of romantic love or passion. It was good that her arguement was based on a mother's love and pain and ironically Aphrodite herself is a mother who has children to protect

The final part of Love in Paradise:

The rest of the song was ak-ok for me (and thank the old gods and the new that at least THIS experience of Odysseus was kept faithful to the original up to one point. I mean the sexual abuse is not touched there directly but given the leap of time and the condition Odysseus is to the final part one can expect that it did happen maybe? I am talkng only on the perspective of the listener since I do not know the background info on it). In my mind it happens and the song just dodges to addrsss it like it happened before but as I said that is only me hearing THIS specific song not any other around it or the background info of it.

But the final part where Odysseus stands at the edge ready to throw himself at the sea to his death is definitely having me "FUCKING FINALLY!" and be so happy that they kept that dark theme at least! Because I simply loved that essence of the myth in the Odyssey and it was something I can absolutely see happening myself and contemplating it as a scene when reading the Odyssey; how Odysseus might possibly make more than one attempt against his life and Calypso stopping him somehow.

The rest of the song was okay as I said before and thankfully it was touching the homeric thing (I lso liked how Jorge chose to get there by having us hear the small portions of other songs as Athena "scans" although as I said the chole concept of "my goodbye" or something just didn't align to me) but the choice was really good but as I said before it was the final part that truly got me! With the final prayer to Athena which again would be something I would SO imagine myself Odysseus would do! In fact I myself imagining him doing it many times over!

That part was probably my favorite so far and is just a few seconds! Which again makes me wish more things were like that...

~*~*~*~

Anyways I believe that concludes it so far. Generally as you know I am not a fan and no I do not have problem seeing this as "different media" or "loose adaptation" or "retelling" or whatever. It just is not my cup of tea and I it doesn't need to be (and the fact that it is so changed beyond recognition of the original is what makes me think of it of yet another average "loosely based on" holywood film material and we have had enough f those already in my opinion of course). I still adore the harmonies the music the singers and such are amazing and the passion is apparent

Is just that I just cannot stand the butchering of the story to the point of literally being easy to replace the characters names and still with the proper background buildup the story can still be told! Because it is not the Odyssey anymore.

HOWEVER

No one said that I disliked every single bit of it. This is a small sample of things that I liked and a small reasoning why. I hope that helps

[fillinforlater]

FEAR----

Male Reader x Huh Yunjin (ft. Chaewon)

Length: 2420 words

Tags: con-non-con kink, change in pov, piss kink, water sports, public sex, choking, gagging, a kinky robbery, humiliation, crying, name calling, missionary, messy make-out, all the bodily fluids, roleplay, dacryphilia maybe, misattribution-of-arousal-kink!Yunjin

TW: cnc kink, water sports (pee), (role)playing with fear

Inspiration: ffs, I have no clue why my brain comes up with these. Maybe I'm just insane? Or stupid? Or too horny for my own good?

(A/N: yeah, I think I will have to take a break after this. Something very different will come up next, but I still need time to write it lol, so please be patient. For those that love these kinks, you're welcome, I won't write them (especially water sports) often.)

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Chaewon’s quiet, tender whisper is calming like a cool breeze in blazing summer heat. It takes you out of your short trance, which you spent gazing at the ring on her finger. You look into her concerned eyes, then towards her blonde friend at the bar. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you set down the untouched cocktail.

"You know I like the idea," you start your rant, hoping it removes the uncertainty burdening your heart, "and I know you're completely fine with it. But the more I look at her—I just don't know if she knows what she really wants. You get me?"

"I think I do. Hmm,” Chaewon ponders for a second, caressing your palm, "Look, how about we ask her right now."

She turns around and with a wave of her hand she gets her friend's attention. The young woman quickly walks over, a bright, beautiful smile on her features. She stops next to your wife and straightens her postures when she looks at you. Before she can greet you, Chaewon whispers a long message into her ear. It makes her face sweaty and redder with each word.

"So," Chaewon loudly announces at the end of her explanation,"what are you thinking, Yunjin."

"I—"

Yunjin locks eyes with you. Her hands fidget, her upper body tenses up and her breath responds to her increased heartbeat. You can almost see the small muscle in her chest throb. She hesitates, even with Chaewon's reassuring smile and strokes on her back. Before you can speak up however, Yunjin's firm answer catches you by surprise:

"I still want it. I don't know what else to say, but I really want this and I don't care about the dangers."

"Alright," you respond blankly, though slightly in awe of Yunjin's clarity, "I appreciate your trust."

#

It's way past midnight when Yunjin leaves the area around the well-lit HYBE building to walk home. Dark, narrow corridors in between cold, lifeless concrete buildings are her choice, as she is eager to get to her flat quickly. Yunjin will always sacrifice a bit of lighting for effective short cuts. With her cell phone as a flashlight in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other, she confidently finds her way in this now well-known maze.

At night, she doesn't have to be extra careful about someone noticing her or the song she hums. An unreleased track, self-composed, with lyrics that have meaning to her and the other bandmates. At night, Yunjin is free to sing those words and feel a bit of burden fall from her shoulders.

A gentle breeze makes her blonde hair sway off of her shoulder and the loose jacket flies along with it. Yunjin has to stop in her tracks to adjust the leather garment. It's this time of the year where it's warm enough at night that you don't really need any extra clothes. However, each cold wind reminds Yunjin that it's good to have something on her. She can't allow herself to get sick.

It's also the time of the year where almost every night sky is littered with dazzling stars that dance on their designated spot, billions of miles away. It's a spectacle, each and every single one of them, so similar yet so different. The human eye cannot escape from this beauty, and Yunjin is no different. She stands there, star struck, the white lights dancing on her irises like it’s the parquet of a musical. Yunjin hums the melody to their performance. 

The bushes behind her rustle once. A dark figure shots out from behind them like a lightning bolt. Yunjin gasps and quickly looks behind her shoulder to see a black ski mask right in her face. Her ensuing scream is muted by a cloth forced into her mouth. She tries to escape, but the person is just too fast. Yunjin is grabbed at the top of her dress and forcefully shoved into a nearby wall.

“Money?” the figure asks in a cold, rough tone. Yunjin tenses up when she feels freezing metal run up her exposed thigh. Her eyes tremble in fear, even more so her legs. She is only held upright by the man's hand and his leg trapping her in between dead concrete and death personified. 

The man tears on Yunjin’s dress and groans angrily. Yunjin is too scared to test his patience, so she shakes her head. Her lips lose all their moisture to the cloth in her mouth, but maybe it’s just traveling to her eyes, to her sweat glands and down low.  

“Not even in that bag? Not even at home?” the man continues to ask. He guides the metal object further up, right to Yunjin’s core. A few swipes on her bundle of nerves make the young woman burst out into tears. It’s certainly not a knife that he is holding. The death bringing object right on her most private part makes her flinch, head shaking rapidly. 

The man grabs her face roughly. It’s like a slap he stopped as soon as he felt her skin. It reassures that the cloth won’t fall out of her mouth. The man groans once again. With small kicks against her shoes he forces Yunjin’s feet further apart. He then leans in right next to her ear.

“I know that you know what this is,” he whispers and presses his gun against Yunjin’s pussy, she wails, “and if you don’t tell me where the fuck I can get my money—tell me, or else.”

The flow of Yunjin’s tears is like an endless waterfall. Her hands are pleaing, begging, showing that she has nothing. No possession at hand, no money, maybe the bag is worth something, but the man does not seem interested in that. He wraps one hand around her gentle, fragile throat and slowly pulls out the gun from underneath her dress. She can look right into the barrel. There is a bullet waiting at the back, her name on it. 

This is it. Everything inside her is building up to this moment. Her body reacts the only way it can, the only way it knows how to, the only way she wants to. Instead of the bullet hitting her, the man shoves his knee in between her legs and pushes up. Yunjin screams against the gag, her fingers dig into her attackers back as she starts to pee violently. The clear stream immediately soaks her thin white panties, then runs down her pale, goosebump covered legs and begins to soak her shoes and his pants. The dark spot seems invisible on his dark pants, but he definitely feels and hears Yunjin’s eruption. 

“Bitch, what the—how dare you!” 

The man pulls out his knee and closely watches as the last sprays of Yunjin’s pee cover the dry asphalt below. He doesn’t even notice the gag falling out of Yunjin’s mouth as she makes no attempts to scream for help. She feels like all her dignity is stripped from her and sobs uncontrollably. Snot and salt water with small hints of make-up mess up her beautiful face, but she doesn’t cover it up. She still holds on to the back of this cruel stranger.

“Bitch, you are crazy.”

“Pl-please d-don’t ki-kill me.”

“Shut up,” he snarls and presses his gun against her panties again, “slowly take them off, or else..”

Yunjin’s throat is dry. Her sobs begin to sound like croaks as she leans down and grabs the wet lingerie. In the most embarrassing performance of her lifetime, she drags down her panties, feeling her own clear, barely gold liquid on her skin. She steps out with one leg, then the other, and both times the man kneads her thighs for a short time. Another breeze flies through her hair, but this time she only notices it because of the freezing touch on her wet core.

“Wring it out. With one hand, right onto the street.”

Yunjin closes her eyes as she closes her fist around her panties. They worked like a sponge and now all of her piss shoots out of the gaps in her hand. She is mortified by how the warm liquid feels on her hand. 

“Fuck, you’re insane,” the man says with awe and amusement and grabs Yunjin’s hair. He yanks her across the street, into the bushes where he came from. Behind them is a small patch of grass, where Yunjin is forced to lay down and spread her legs. She whimpers ‘no, no’ repeatedly, but the threat of the gun is right there, in his hand. Now it’s next to her head as he opens his zipper. 

“Pl-please don’t,” she whispers and her fist forms tighter. It draws even more pee from her panties.

“What’s your name?” the man coldly responds, fishing out his hard cock. 

“Yunjin.”

“Do you want to die, Yunjin.”

“No, please, no!”

“Then shut up—and do it again.”

Yunjin has no idea what he meant by this last statement. However, when he shoves his entire, surprisingly large cock inside her hot cunt, she doesn’t even remember it anymore. To pee in front of a stranger was pure horror, but this takes it to another level. If it weren’t for his hand on her mouth, not even the fear of death would have stopped her from screaming at this feeling. Pain, pain that feels great, fantastic, orgasmic even. Yunjin’s head begins to spin and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“Hng, fuck,” the man groans and leans down to Yunjin’s face, “Yunjin, you’re fucking pretty. Great to have met you.”

A sinister laugh as he begins to bite the skin on her cheek and then on her shoulder. It’s not enough to leave marks, but definitely enough for Yunjin to feel something other than the cock hammering her pussy. It’s enormous size and width stretch her out more than any of her toys did before. Her flailing legs begin to go numb.

Suddenly, the man pushes his lip-sealing fingers into her mouth. He plays with her tongue, while hitting just the right spot inside her over and over. As she yelps, Yunjin comes to a shocking realization. The water on her face is not just tears, but also drools from the heavy pounding. Her mind becomes blank every now and then. It feels insane, better than anything she tried before. Something is building up in her lower regions and this filthy criminal gets her filthy pussy closer to another release. 

“Do it again, Yunjin,” he huffs into her face while retrieving his fingers from her mouth again— “I know you’re a kinky slut. Do it, or else.” —and wraps them around her delicate throat. Simultaneously, he begins to make out with her drooling mouth and press down on her throat. Yunjin screams into his mouth. Her body has given up. It’s completely resigned to him, but her mind is tormented by the inevitable. 

He hits the right spot, and her bladder is still so full. No, she can’t let it happen. She’d rather die and drown in her own spit and snot. It’s so humiliating, so bad, but at the same, her dopamine level has never been this high, it’s good. It will happen, it will happen, he just needs to tip her over, please tip me over.

“Or else. Now.”

The moment he stops fucking her tight cunt, Yunjin starts to piss again. A violent, clear stream erupts from her and she waters the grass and bushes around her like a gardening hose. Her hips buckle up, but she doesn’t feel his manhood anymore. She opens her teary eyes and sees the man's cockhead above her abdomen, unloading his warm, sticky semen all over the dress. 

Gooey white and runny light-yellow still shoot out of their bodies, but the two are entangled in a sloppy kiss with no care for the mess they are making on each other and the grass below. This might be someone’s property and they will surely notice. Not that Yunjin really cares, as her tongue is thoroughly sucked on and her limbs feel numb from the pleasure filled violation.

Suddenly, he reaches for the pee-soaked panties in her firm grasp. He guides her pale legs together and forces the undergarment up to her still twitching pussy. Yunjin gasps at the sensation of stained, wet clothing forced upon her. She loves how he continues to rub his thumb on her now covered clit and stares at her face, stupid from his attack. 

“Kinky slut. Now fuck off. No cleaning until your home. Or else.”

#

Quiet. Not a single sound. You’re able to close the door behind you without it creaking. Your wife will probably be asleep by now, but you want to make sure it stays that way. Carefully remove your shoes and sneak over the smooth tiles into the living room. Absolute silence. She is not here. Search in the kitchen, just a light humming of the refrigerator. There is no sound a human would make, until you reach the stairs. 

Wet squelching and soft moans. They get louder with every step you take upwards. You decide to leave the mask on and move faster, still careful to not stir up attention. The sounds of self-satisfaction come from the playroom. Take a look inside and there she is.

Chaewon sits on the couch, panties around her ankles. Three of her fingers slowly move in and out of her pussy as she rubs her clit in circles. She throws her head back against the rest and the moonlight gives you a perfect view of her pleasure ridden face and closed eyes. The squelching gets louder and in between moans, Chaewon forms a clear sentence.

“Yes, fuck her like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Three quick steps and you’re right in front of the half-naked Chaewon. She pulls her fingers out in shock but you replace the emptiness of her hole with yours immediately after. Chaewon gasps as you lean closer to her and pump slowly.

“My wife is a kinky bitch.”

“Sh-shut up.”

“No, you shut up. Keep imagining it. 

How I fuck your friend as she cries and screams. The way her body trembles while you look from the bushes. The way my cock pierces her pussy until she starts to pee all over herself.”

“Fuck!” Chaewon screams out and her body begins to shake.

“You like that? Then cum for me, Chaewon. 

Or else.”

[fairestwriting]

Hello Lis! Wow, it’s been a minute. How are you doing?

Sooo I got a request I was saving.

May I request HCs of the Music Club Trio (Cater Diamond, Kalim Al Asim, and Lilia Vanrouge) (Separately) who found out that [Reader] [Gender Neutral] [Platonic or Romance (your choice)] can sing/rap incredibly when they were alone practicing their vocals in an empty classroom? [Reader] was trying to keep their talent low-profile as they don’t like too much attention and can’t deal with embarrassment if something slips. How would the three react?

- @sanctum-of-ramshackle

hellooooo it has been a Lot of minutes huh 😭 but im surviving!!! the call of writing is one i can't bring myself to ignore .....

and! since you said both platonic and romantic are fine, im writing it more ambiguously so the other readers can see it however they prefer ;3

Cater Diamond

At first, he's too shocked to move, standing near the door and just listening in awe, but he eventually just snaps. Breaks your focus with a sound that's almost a squeak, rushing into the classroom you thought was empty way too quickly. Probably startles you into making a noise sounding just as awkward as his.

The questions of when and how you learn to sing like this start, Cater grabbing your hands and lookinf at you with big, bright eyes. And though he's usually cheerful, this degree of excitement still feels like a completely new side to him. You mumble out your explanations of how you've been practicing a long time, but had some specific boundaries...

He listens to each and every word, maybe even surprising you with the attentiveness. You might have expected requests for videos and pictures for social media posts anyway, but there are none. Instead, he cheerfully raises a hand and asks if he can practice with you. Then if you want to go to karaoke with him this weekend-- He's a bit more pushy about this one.

(If you're especially close, Cater might ask for an audio of you singing your favorite song. The intimate feeling of the request makes him nervous, but he can't really resist. Doesn't matter if your next school break is far away, he already knows he's gonna miss your singing a near painful amount.)

Kalim Al-Asim

He doesn't think twice after the first few lyrics he sees you sing so soulfully... a part of him wanted to stay by the door and listen until you were done with the song, but Kalim just can't hold back, and he rushes into the classroom just like Cater would. Unlike him, though, Kalim mostly showers you in praise.

It's a bit hard to have any sort of conversation for a bit, when he keeps guahing about how well you held that note and how emotional you sounded in that verse and how your voice was so, so, so beautiful, why didn't you share that with the club before?

...At least, with that one question, Kalim gives you enough time to explain yourself, and your concerns about unwanted attention, then the stage fright... and he does listen, though it takes a bit for him to understand. But it's definitely not in a malicious way, and you can see that. He's just so, so, so awed by how amazing your singing voice sounds.

Then, he has his own questions, a few on your background with music -- hardly the focus -- and a bunch on if you'd be willing to sing for the Music Club when they gathered. He assures, with that always sunny smile of his, that it's completely okay if you don't want to do that, but he's sure the other members would be delighted to hear you too.

And if you don't want to share that with them, Kalim asks if it's okay for him to listen to you a little more? He promises to not disrupt your practice. If you agree, you'll find that he's really an ideal audience member, clapping excitedly at the end of every song. And he happens to know one, he'll go all puppy-eyed as he asks to join you. Starting then, he'll take every opportunity to make your songs a duet.

Lilia Vanrouge

The only one who manages to stay by the door for a whole song, with that hard-to-read smile of his reaching up to his eyes. He claps as you finish your song, chuckling and fondly commenting how he had no idea you were so talented. Might spook you if you're jumpy, and it'd make him laugh too, but not without an apology. Pranks aren't the focus now.

Lilia walks up to you, looking straight into your eyes as he speaks. Part of his surprise is that your talent managed to fly under his radar for so long, when he usually picks up on these things so easily. He did have a feeling you were the type to hide your true potential for whatever reason, sure, but that's still not even remotely close to learning this secret of yours.

Lilia already mentions he's assuming you don't want to attract too much attention, or be judged, before you even start to explain. He reassures with a soft voice that he won't be sharing it with anyone you don't want to share your voice with, and his interest is more in how you got into music in the first place. If you play any instruments, if you had any training...

You see a rare glint of awe in his eyes as he speaks, it's clear that just from these few minutes of showcasing your skill, he's gained plenty of artistic interest and respect for you. He's especially curious about whether you write your own music or not. Depending on your own approach to your work, he'll honestly offer to help you... for the price of getting to be the first to hear any new songs you make, of course, he'll say with a cheeky smile.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[bbgnyx]

hiya! thought i’d send in my song req!!

song name: cigarette duet by princess chelsea!

pairing: any skz member or even ot8 x fem reader?

description: reader has been smoking for a while and the boys find out? they’re mad at her for smoking and they stop talking to her.. she disappears and they think it’s their fault but she is secretly in rehab trying to quit smoking?

an: hey anon sorry its so late!! hope you like it!

pairing:!ot8 x fem!reader

Standing on the balcony, you inhaled the smoke from your cigarette, mesmerized by the moon's radiant glow illuminating the night sky. Despite being aware of the health risks, smoking provided you with a temporary escape from reality. The swirling smoke filled your lungs, creating a euphoric sensation within you. Lost in your own world, you failed to hear Minho calling out to you. Startled, you quickly hid the cigarette behind your back, knowing that your friends would be furious if they discovered your secret habit.

Minho, sensing that something was amiss, approached you with tired eyes. "Is that you, y/n?" he whispered, raising an eyebrow. Nervously, you fidgeted with your hands as you replied, "I was just enjoying the night sky, nothing much." However, Minho saw through your facade and swiftly uncovered your hands, revealing the cigarette. Shocked, he looked at you with wide eyes, his disappointment evident. Unable to find the right words, you turned away and hurried back to your room, feeling weak under his gaze.

The next morning, it came as no surprise when the rest of the boys discovered your secret. They all stared at you, waiting for an explanation. Felix, holding your hand, expressed his disbelief, causing you to break down, unable to find the words to justify your actions to your closest friends, who had been by your side since childhood.

They were like the older brothers you never had, and that's what made this situation even more heartbreaking. "You could have confided in us about anything you were going through, you know we're here to support you," Chan said, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You felt a wave of shame for lying to them, but you felt like you had no other choice.

"I-I couldn't tell you guys because I knew you wouldn't agree,” you said, your head hanging low. Hyunjin let out a sigh, "Of course not, why would we ever agree to something that could harm you, y/n? But that's exactly why you should have told us, we could have helped you find the right path." They all looked hurt to realize that you were keeping something so significant from them. You felt guilty too. They had always been there for you, through thick and thin, and now you were betraying their trust.

The rest of the day passed in silence as the boys gave you the cold shoulder. It made you sad, but you understood why they didn't want to talk to you. You had hurt their feelings by keeping such a big secret. They blatantly ignored you, and it made your stomach churn, but there was nothing you could do about it. This continued for the next week as well. You tried to reach out to them, but they refused to respond. Countless nights were spent crying yourself to sleep, wondering if it was worth losing your best friends over this.

Then, one day, you realized that you needed to break free from your addiction and mend things with the boys. So, you packed your belongings and left home... for rehab. You didn't tell the boys because you didn't want to burden them any further, so you quietly left early one morning.

"Hey, have any of you seen y/n?" Binnie asked as he returned from the gym. "No, I haven't. She's probably still asleep," Chan replied, not paying much attention since you were known to be a heavy sleeper in the mornings. It wasn't until after they finished breakfast that they realized you were missing. They searched the entire house but couldn't find you.

They even asked your neighbors if they had seen you, but no one had any information. Panic started to set in as they realized you were nowhere to be found. They called your phone repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail. Worried sick, they began to fear the worst.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of you. The boys were consumed by guilt and regret. They blamed themselves for not being there for you when you needed them the most. They couldn't bear the thought of losing you, their dear friend. Then, one fateful day, a letter arrived at their doorstep. It was from you. In the letter, you poured your heart out, explaining your struggles and your decision to seek help. You apologized for keeping it a secret and expressed your deep gratitude for their friendship.

Tears streamed down their faces as they read your words. They realized that they had been too quick to judge and had failed to see the pain you were going through. They felt a mix of relief and hope knowing that you were taking the necessary steps towards recovery. Without hesitation, they rallied together and decided to support you every step of the way. They researched rehab centers, made phone calls, and even visited you during visiting hours. They wanted you to know that they were there for you, no matter what.

As you went through your journey of healing, the boys became your pillars of strength. They attended therapy sessions with you, learned about addiction, and helped you in every way. They were determined to make amends and rebuild the trust that had been broken. Months passed, and you finally completed your rehab program. You were a changed person, stronger and more resilient than ever before. The boys were there to welcome you back with open arms, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

From that day forward, your bond with the boys grew even stronger. You realized that true friendship was not about hiding your struggles but about being vulnerable and allowing others to support you. Together, you faced life's challenges head-on, knowing that you had a group of friends who would always be there for you.

taglist:

@straykidsholicleigh @luvyev @kpopsmut2023 @ihrtlix

[lovecite]

Your choice series

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N (Fem reader)

-slight spoilers- fluff--very quickly written--

(--This is sanemi after the fight with Muzan! I feel his character changed to a more kinder soul-- )

**** theme song behind this story****

"irony" (Vocaloid) English Cover by Lizz Robinett

Other songs I listened to while writing this that really made my writing juices flow:

Sugar - BrockHampton

One & Only - Oliver Tree

You Found me- The Fray

Somewhere Only we know- Kean

Just a little back story-

You were sold by your family for the hope of marrying a demon slayer but since Muzan has been defeated you have been set free. To make your own choices.

This story bounces off my other story with Kyojuro "Your choice" one shot just different scenario.

You were sold by your family. They were promised if no slayer claimed you they would still be paid monthly. If a slayer claimed you ,she would be welcomed into the family of what ever slayer and your family again would be taken care of. It was a win win but you were the only loser here. And here your story starts .

Your choice

----🌪️----

It was over.. The fight was over..Muzan had been killed

"Ladies," There was a brief pause before the madam of the house finished. "You are all free to go back to your families." There was silence after the finished sentence. No other explanation was needed to be told to the women before a frenzy ensued.

Women running around with their the trains of fabric from their kimonos dragging behind them as murmurs exploded. Sounds of their delicate feet slamming hard against the wooden floors as they rushed. Rushed to pack and leave. You stood up slowly from the floor as your eyes focused on all the woman's faces.

They had joyous expressions some were even crying and sobbing. This meant that the women no longer had to be forced into a marriage with the slayers. You however did not care. How could you? You had no family to head back to anyways. A letter weeks before this event of Muzan dying had been sent to you. In it an apology written from your home village stating with words

"Your choice if you wish to stay."

And so you decided to stay but now. Now there was nothing for you. You bring your arms into the sleeves of your kimono as you walk ever so slowly towards the entrance of this mansion you had been entrapped in for months. The rush of women still around you as the feeling of dread collected within your chest. Where would you go now? You had the money of course. As it had been told your family had been getting paid for you each month but now did it matter? You were alone with no family to lean on.

As you walk over the threshold of the mansions door way you feel your body still at the scene before you. A sea of slayers waiting in the court yard . You had never seen so many in one place before. They were always away on missions. Your eyes squinting slightly as you eyed them closely. Many of them were on their knees begging ,grasping on the kimonos, for some of the women to reconsider in taking their hand for marriage.

But some of the women held their head high as they passed through the crowd of slayers. They didn't have to follow the rules anymore. It was evident why these slayers had shown up. They must have known that this deal that been going for years would be disbanded today. They wanted to take one more stab at finding a wife.

And of course they had no other choices outside the demon slayer society no sane family ,that were not involved with deal, with daughters wanted them to be tainted. And as you took in more of the colorful haired slayers you also took in the messing limbs ,the ghostly looks that haunted their faces.

You take a deep breathe as you walk from the steps of the mansion making your way through the crowds. As soon as your foot is placed on the court yard they pounced on you falling to their knees.

"Please, wait I can provide I promise!"

"Ma'am please I have to bring a wife back for my family."

"W-Wait please!"

But You kept your gaze forward trying to drain out the out cries of these poor young men clinging onto your kimono. They seemed like lost children reaching for their mother for attention. You pulled the bottom of your kimono from their grasp as you kept walking with the crowd of women leaving the court yard. You take notice that some of the women did stop. You watched as the women who stopped took the hands of those men accepting their marriage proposal.

You followed the other women who where leaving the only thing on your mind. "Your choice" . Finally out the compound. Finally out of the court yard. The dirt road and the forest being the only thing in your sight. This was it. What life would you make for yourself now?

"Did you see that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The guy over there. He's been there on all morning bowed lowly to the ground."

You turn to the other women speaking . Two women together gossiping and pointing to a direction down the road. It peeked your interest and since you had nothing else to go for you. "Where? "You asked without thinking.

Both women jump at your question startled that you had been listening into their conversation. One of the women gave her a look of indifference. "I'd be careful ever since they disbanded this little deal with slayers they've been acting like hungry wolves." She spoke with a huff but then gave the directions of where this bowing man would be.

Then without another thought you walked down the dirt road towards the direction they had explained to you. Your hands stayed in your kimono sleeves. The thoughts of today still swirling in your mind as the images of those slayers begging for a wife flashed.

Your mind lost in thought as the welcoming breeze and birds singing distracted you. You felt a your balance go off as your legs bumped into a lone log below you. A gasp from below you surprised you! A log gasping!

You quickly catch yourself as you take a step back bringing your gaze down to the dirt floor and catch a glance. A glance at the bowing white haired man. He of course like the women described had his forehead to the floor. His knees touching the ground and his hands placed near his bowed head. There was silence between the two. You didn't know how to react. The feeling of wanting to touch his shoulder and ask if he was okay but he hadn't brought his eyes up either.

"E-Excuse me?" You softly spoke ending the deafening silence.

"May I gaze upon you." He requested his tone of voice making you jump slightly in place. His voice sounded so rough even if he had spoken with such a soft tone. "Y-Yes, that is fine." You answer confused slightly at the request. He quickly lifts his head still bowing lowly. You jump back an inch at his sudden movement . His movement reminded you of a bunny coming up after eating hay.

Those pale purple pupils focused on you. You were finally able to take a glance at this mans face. What had he been through for him to have so many scars. "I am Sanemi former hashira of the wind, and looking for a wife." He stated fast with his intentions.

You couldn't help but let a sigh escape your lips of course he was. "O-okay but why are you here and not at the court yard with the others?" You asked the former slayer. His wide gaze did a couple of blinks before looking away. "If it is meant to be then I will find one without begging." He responded with a nod of his head.

"And you women deserve all the respect of having a choice of who your husband should be." He finished bringing those pale purple pupils back to you. A choice. Your choice. You felt a sudden tremor cross your lips before you bend over grasping a hand over your lips to stifle your giggles.

The former hashira sat up slowly bringing his bottom upon his legs as he starred at you. "Did I say something funny, uh." He countered this statement his tone of voice clipped. You pause standing straight up a warm smile upon your lips.

"N-No I just believe my life has been nothing but fortunate. Being able to make a choices for myself is something new to me! " You respond as your eyes dragged away from Sanemi. Your thoughts going over the months of being in that mansion thinking about the times you had to meet and greet with a slayer. Wondering if they would choose you. Those days were very bleak .....

"Um" He hummed catching your attention. His purple gaze focused downward at the dirt floor he brought one of his scarred arms behind his head as his fingers glided through his white hair. Then he brought that pale purple pupils back to you. "So?" He ventured holding your gaze. "Oh" You responded.

A choice.

You lift your kimono slightly up as you kneel in front of him. You go to touch his right hand but he brings it back quickly hiding it under his thigh. "I" He pauses making you bring your attention to his face. His eyes flickered quickly to the left as he brought his other hand down from behind his head bringing it out to you.

"Sanemi, remember i get to make the choices here." You addressed with an almost whisper. His purple wide eyed gaze fell back on you before nodding. A hint of pink crossing his pale scarred face. He dropped his arm down his left hand resting on his thigh as he ever slowly brought out his right hand.

You bring your gaze down to his right hand and soon realized why he had hide it so quickly. His right hand was bandaged but that wasn't what caught you off guard. Your fingers carefully slide across his hand as you flipped his palm upward. Sanemi was messing two fingers. "The last girl that walked by screamed." He revealed. You turned his palm downward intaking the image before you.

"Well her loss then." You uttered as you brought your gaze to his. Your head tilted slightly as a warm smile came upon your face. Sanemi retracted his hand from your grasp leaving an empty space between you two.

A single brow raised in question as a question lingered on your lips. But you were silenced as a firm hold snaked its way around your waist pulling you close. And before you could respond further you felt the warmth of his chest on your front as you were pulled upward from the floor with him.

"W-What are you doing?!" You asked your heart beating so harshly against your chest with excitement. Your eyes landed on his purple gaze his expression was so warm. "My brother died. " He responds pausing as he still kept you in that close hug. His grip around you tightening slightly. "And I want to make sure the dream, I wished so hard for him, will come to light." Sanemi whispered . You feet were dangling as they lightly kicked his legs.

"S-Sanemi what was that dream?" You asked softly as your gaze couldn't leave his face. The way he was smiling down at you made your heart skip a beat... If that were possible. He leaned closer almost as if you were going to kiss but his cheek brushed along side yours. His hot breathe tickling your earlobe. "I want to find a wife and make children. As many as she will allow," Sanemi whispers with a hint of a chuckle in his voice. Your hands find your way to his clothed chest gripping it slightly as you melt in his arms.

"I-I" You started but you were so tongue tied.

"I wanted my brother to live this dream but I suppose since I'm the only one here still. I guess I will take that dream and make it my own." He interrupts you. He places you back on your feet before him his warm gaze never wavering. You look up at him your heart beating so fast.

"So, what do ya think?" He asked his purple gaze focused on you. His right hand brushed along your cheek along your jaw line.

"The choice is yours."

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

Well I hoped you guys liked this!! Thank you for reading!

[yan-lorkai]

Good afternoon, Lorkai! I’d like to know your thoughts on how some of the twst boys would handle a darling that used to be a musician? If it’s alright, I’ll leave the choice of boys up to who ever you feel most inspired to write for. Thank you for all of the great yandere content!

*･゜ﾟ Characters: Lilia V, Kalim A, Epel F.

*･゜ﾟ A/N: I just remembered when I finished writing that the octotrio had a band in middle school lol so, maybe if someone wants to read ofc, this fic can have a part two. Also thank u darling, I'm glad that you like my content 🥺❤️

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Oh, you used to be a musician? If you're comfortable with that, Lilia would love to hear you play and maybe even have a duet with you, following every chord and note with his guitar. Sometimes, you can even hear him humming the song you play softly and the sound is very harmonious.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ However, 'used' is past tense and indicates that you no longer play / are no longer a musician. And Lilia builds a thousand and one theories and invents explanations for it, eventually he voices his thoughts and asks you why you don't play anymore. If it's insecurity or lack of motivation he can help you overcome them, he can even help build your confidence again. Lilia would offer words of encouragement and and help you put together a schedule to practice. He would remind you that your love for music is valid and that it's never too late to pursue your passion again, as an immortal he knows true talent when he see it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Also he's like your number one fan, the kind of fan who buys all your CDs and merchandise.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But if it's because you don't like playing anymore / want to pursue another profession, Lilia respects your decision. He still wants to play with you sometimes and he would love to hear if you have any compositions of your own, he would have heart for eyes while listening to you and probably was going to brag to anyone about how his lover is such an amazing musician.

⠀⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim, sweet Kalim, when you tell him you used to be a musician he wants to know absolutely everything. He wanted to know what kind of instruments you played, if you sang, if you've composed any music, if you've played in front of a giant audience, how you got interested in music, how you became a musician, things like that.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Music for him is a way of expressing yourself and he would love to hear what kind of music you play. He would shout your name and clap and cheer you on if you played, but if you decide not to play that's fine you can just enjoy the good food and the time you spend together at his parties.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He would love for you to stop by the Music Club sometimes to watch him rehearse and play, and if you know how to play the drums, he would like to exchange tips and tricks on how to play better. And he would use every tip and trick to improve and play his hometown songs for you, hoping you would feel the same as him, light and happy following the upbeat rhythm.

⠀⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel, like Kalim, would ask so many questions about your journey as a musician, about your experiences, challenges that you faced, and what initially drew you to music. He like to hear it all while you guys run errands or spend time together. If you doubt about your skills though, he's already proclaiming how talented you are and how he loves you for trying something and being so good at it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He doesn't play any instruments but he is more than happy to see how you take care of yours, supporting you if you want to try playing again and are a little rusty. Epel could take you to Pomefiore where lots of students sharp their skills by practicing to expand your horizons, to show you something new while you listen to them play. And he's sure Vil wouldn't have a problem letting you practice with them since you used to be a musician.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel doesn't know if this helps you, but he would massage your hands and shoulders after you play trying to make you relax and get rid of tension. He would tell you whenever you have talent and absolutely love to hear you play, and if you ever want to return to your career as a musician, know that he will be by your side to support and help you in any way he can.

[rascalentertainments]

As much as I love Starboy and the evil couple, I think Sabino's character is just as important because he suffered a change that most haven't noticed. He didn't have that much of a presence in the actual film, even though the plot (?) was about getting his wish back and later the other people of Rosas wishes as well.

The film version of him is okay, really. However, there's not much to say about him. He was even okay with never getting his wish back or even remembering it. But taking out his song, the ENTIRE reason to get his wish back was completely cut with no explanation, was the only character trait is gone. They just said they had too. Plus it showed how he was passionate about his music despite us not actually seeing it.

For this scrapped version of him, we get a lot more of his personality. I love that he's a bit cheeky with Asha and reminds me of Mulan's grandmother, but he's still kind and gentle. He tells Asha how he's felt knowing his wish won't come true. (They remember their wishes in the original version) and his new wish is for Asha to have that adventure and danger she's always wanted, and stopping Magnifico from harming other people.

Sabino actually FEELS like a character here and the whole exchange is so heartwarming. Asha feels closer to him in thus version too. I am glad he didn't die in either version (in the final deleted scene Starboy is still there and Saba is alive at the same time, so its sounds like they scrapped him looking like her saba at some point). I just wish he had more of a presence in the film, because I did like him in the final version still and Victor Garber was a perfect choice to voice him. I really miss having fun elderly characters in Disney films. That last one I think was Carl from "UP". I could be wrong and there's one I've over looked in movies.

Sorry for the rambling, I just think he deserved better. I understand some are probably fine with how he is in the final film, and its okay.

[feliformiaboy]

I saw that you posted a pathways playlist and were willing to explain the song choices!!! Though I think I can understand most songs on the playlist, I’m a little lost on the what the Cats Millionaire song is doing there, could we get an explanation on how it correlates with pathways? Thank you! :3

hi! another anon has already asked for explanations for all the songs, so i would've waited to answer this one til that message was posted, but. uh. its shaping up to be nearly 1k words with only the first 3 song analysises. so it may take me a while. HOWEVER: i will answer this one now just because of my lack of posting for a few days!

category 4 yap warning you have been advised

^ link to the song

i think this song is a good representation of painter's point of view on sebastian from a more. exaggerated/abstract point of view, i guess? its about, literally, playing pretend with a my little pony wedding playset, but a lot of the lyrics remind me of painter in the way of like. its misguided hopes/dreams of escaping the facility and "playing pretend" by drawing the outside it used to be able to see all the time

^ with this excerpt i think the second verse fits sebastian pretty well also. "dull plastic eyes" literally meaning painter (made of plastic obvi), and his "disguise" being the lie that he will definitely be able to free painter.

the first one is def from painters pov. "every day with you is so utterly perfect" meaning more that all of their interactions with sebastian are a highlight of their life in the blacksite

^ same thing

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 君子盟/A League of Nobleman

A League of Nobleman is the unfortunately translated English title of a 2023 historical drama about an idealistic country boy/genius detective/noodle seller, and a wealthy minister on a mission to exonerate his late father from charges of treason, even if he himself has to commit some treason in the process.

I watched this one not too long after it came out, and I was expecting there would be a lot of buzz as soon as fandom got hold of it. There wasn't, but I can understand why. The show is a lovely, ethereal drama that has some genuinely moving moments, stunning visuals, and charming character interactions.

It is, however, kiiiiiiiind of a hot mess.

What follows is an incredibly qualified rec. Unlike most of the previous shows I've recommended, this show is not something you could just throw at your Average American Television Enjoyer. Censorship got its claws into this one, and what's left is ... okay, imagine fliming all of Hannibal just like you want it, and then right before it airs, NBC comes in and says, okay, now we're just going to take out all the parts that are gay and violent and gory! You know what you'd have left? You'd have a League of Nobleman, is what.

(If you want a little more explanation of what's awkward about it, here's a take based on the first ten episodes. Note that not everything that bothers AvenueX bothers me, but they're fair critiques.)

Therefore, I'd have a tough time recommending this to someone who hasn't already built up a tolerance for the experience of seeing a scene end nearly mid-sentence, or hearing described something that happened just offscreen (while seeing no one's lips move). You need to be prepared to look through the jank to see the show we could have had beneath the show that actually arrived.

Even so, I have five reasons I think you should at least give it a shot!

1. That precious baby boy

Look at him. Look at his precious face. Don't you just want to stuff him down the front of your shirt and take him home with you?

That is Zhang Ping. He is the hero and he is a good boy.

He is a darling dumpling who grows up reading novels about how members of the judiciary nobly solve crimes and punish the unjust, so he decides that he wants to move to the big city and become a member of the judiciary to nobly solve crimes and punish the unjust! ...Until he gets there and realizes, no, baby, that was fiction. But gosh darn it, he's going to try anyway.

I have seen people say they read Zhang Ping as autistic. While I'm not sure that's specifically what the show itself was going for, that's kind of the effect -- which, I think, is why I've also seen a lot of people say they don't like Song Weilong's performance. I don't think he's wooden or unemotional; I think he just made a choice to play the character as not always real good about understanding why the people around him are having the emotions they're having. Similarly, I think what makes him read as anachronistic is mostly how he doesn't engage well with the rules of social convention that are such important parts of this historical setting.

Like, you see that picture above, with him and Lan Jue whispering at one another? Zhang Ping is doing this because he is absolutely convinced that this is appropriate subterfuge behavior. Lan Jue is matching him because he thinks Zhang Ping is adorable.

Just the goodest boy. A baby. Please care him.

2. the aesthetic

The show is beautiful. It looks and sounds amazing. For some reason I can't find a clip of just the opening credits, but here's a (strangely bloody) trailer that gives a sense of its general vibe:

As you can see a couple times in there, the show makes great use of tilt-shift photography -- you know, the thing where you change the focal length until everything starts to look fake? It creates a weird, dreamlike effect where parts of the frame are out of focus for no reason, or actual locations start to look like model-train miniatures. Many of the shots are framed like this, giving the entire thing a very pretty, very uncanny look.

And speaking of the dreamlike: If there's one thing I've come to expect from C-dramas, it's bad CGI. That is not the case here! The CG is used so sparingly that it's unobtrusive and actually quite nice. Much more of the weight of the show's look relies on practical effects that are supported and amplified by CG, which is the optimal combo. When it does go all in on CG, it's in the service of dreamscapes that are supposed to look unreal anyway.

The show does admittedly have a mild problem of using a cool effect and then largely forgetting that effect exists. For example, the first episode has a really neat "freeze time and walk through a crime scene" bit! And then we barely ever see that ability again. But the show's doing so many other lovely things that you don't really feel the absence until you stop to think about it all later. So don't stop to think about things! That's my motto! (It really isn't.)

The directors also just have a lovely eye for things -- which is extra-surprising considering that both of them are first-time directors. That can be fun, though, when you get people who haven't gotten stuck in their ways get, so they're still being new and weird with it. ...Of course, I bet that's also some of why so much of the show quite obviously got cut to ribbons, if you're also working with directors who also haven't figured out how to get away with things just yet.

Overall, the production values are very high. This show clearly had a fairly solid amount of funding behind it, but it also used its resources smartly. Most costumes are elegant but not extravagant. Detailed sets are small and beautiful locations are contained. While I have great respect for productions that try to create epics on a shoestring budget, there's something to be said for a project that sets its sights on the achievable, then puts its effort into doing what it can, well.

3. A ship for everyone!

There are so many potential ways to pair up them boys. The show's main pair dynamic is between country mouse Zhang Ping and city mouse Lan Jue, but it surely does not stop there. In fact, I've made a helpful chart that shows you all the potential flavors of gay you can enjoy at this particular danmei buffet:

(And yes, if you've seen the show, you know there's at least one more line that I could've drawn here, but I don't want to spoil anything.)

Now, whether you do read any of these dynamics as sexual/romantic is up to you. The point is that you could. For example, I personally am not that into Lan Jue/Xu Dong, but if you lose your shit when a competent sword guy owes a life debt to the defenseless noble he works for? You could have a lot of fun with what the show gives you.

Obviously, because this is a censored c-drama, there are no canon gay romances. However, a couple of them are more textual than others, especially the ones that center Lan Jue, because everyone clearly wants a piece of that fancy flat ass.

One of AvenueX's comments from the video I linked earlier is that the main couple has less sparkle together than each of them has individually with the man that's supposed to be his bestie. While that changes as the show goes on, these two side pairs never cease to be enjoyable. Whether you read them as sexual or not is up to you! Romantically or platonically, they're still a delight to watch bounce off of one another.

And Lan Jue/Gu Qingzhang (that one terrible ex from the chart) is, uh, basically textual? It's miles into "there is no straight explanation for this" territory. Again, avoiding spoilers here, but trust me. You get to see their secluded love nest and everything. Shit's real gay.

Then, of course, there's the main pair:

This is clearly the one that got hit real hard by cuts to the material. It's a damn shame, because this is clearly meant to be the core of the whole narrative. Despite that, the two of them have a fascinating dynamic that changes over the series from outright suspicion to cautious care to absolute trust. It's a great combo of someone who is too honest for his own good and someone so used to court politics that he lies as easily as breathing.

Ironically, the source material is Not Gay, to the point where the author has basically disowned this series as being so different from her original work as to be unrecognizable. You sort of have to wonder about the creative thought processes that led to taking a gen work and deciding to BL it up for the live-action adatation. I'm not complaining, mind you, but it is a little bit of an unforced error.

So whatever flavor of gay it is you're into, the odds are very good that this drama will have at least enough of it to keep you interested!

4. A very charming cast

I got to gush about Song Weilong's Zhang Ping earlier, but honestly I think everybody's pretty enjoyable, from the main cast to the recurring side characters to the one-off extras who show up for a single episode. Everybody's playing it weird and theatrical, so I get it if that's not your cup of tea. However, I feel all the performances are well-suited to the slightly surreal style of the production.

Here's just a couple of the real gems:

Jing Boran's Lan Jue has the perfect regal bearing of a fussy gentleman, but with a very endearing softness underneath. He spends half his time with eyes brimming with unshed tears, and the other half making heart-eyes at his boyfriends. You understand why everybody in the empire wants to ride him like they stole him, and that's even before he lets his hair down and starts dressing in slutty sheer robes. (I'm not entirely sure either he or the show knew how to play the character in the first few episodes, but he gets way better once he stops being so sinister and mysterious and gets to be cute and/or unhinged.)

There is one female character who shows up in more than one arc, and she is the Empress Dowager, and she is such a wonderful awful bitch. What a monster. Shi Yueling eats up every scene she's in by being the perfect mix of reprehensible and fascinating.

I was already primed to like Wang Duo because I liked watching him be a pretty snake boy in Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity. Well, now he gets to be a pretty metaphorical snake boy here. I'm not spoiling anything by telling you he's bad news. He shows up damn near the end of the show and you know immediately he's bad news. But you don't know what kind of bad news he is, and that's fun to find out.

And speaking of actors I already liked from other places! Guo Cheng has mastered the art of acting with his mouth full. His Chen Chou is a sweet, earnest anchor in a world of tricksy boys.

There is something about Hong Yao's handsome face that makes Wang Yan perpetually look a little red-eyed, like he's trying hard to pretend that he wasn't just crying in his office. It's the perfect soft touch to his incredibly wonderful chad of a character. I'm usually not into the cocky jocks, but I will make such an exception for him.

I love you, fortune-telling gremlin grandpa.

5. Raw materials

Look, I assume if you've made it this far in the rec and you're still hanging on, you're interested for one of two reasons. The more normie reason is that you're into c-dramas in general (and probably period dramas in particular), and gay stuff is a selling point, so you see the appeal of turning on a drama where cute boys have emotions at other cute boys. That is a perfectly good reason to watch this drama, and if this is you, I hope you have fun!

The other reason is that you like making fan stuff, and you need some new blorbos to blorb in new and exciting combinations. Friend, I have that stuff for you right here.

A League of Nobleman has problems -- but they are problems that may be appealing to people who enjoy fixing things. There are literal holes in the series where actual, planned, filmed scenes were deleted! If you're looking for source material that's just begging you to fill in the gaps, look no further.

Of course I'm partial to the number of queer DIY romance options there are (see point 3), but that's not the extent of it. The setting is fascinating: an unspecified premodern Chinese dynasty magical enough to have a Bureau of Incantations, where the emperor is (for once) a cool dude, secluded village people live in semi-communal families, and one of the main characters can play Inception with people's heads. I'll say it plainly: If you are into kinky dream sex, this is the drama for you.

I should note that one of the things that doesn't need fixing is the overall shape of the series. The individual little case incidents seem disconnected, but they all weave together at the end as part of a (let's be real, ridiculously complicated) plot, giving the whole thing a pretty satisfying wrap-up. The show does not just fall off a cliff like Moriarty; it resolves in a way that's more than a little convoluted, but still overall satisfying. Also, a lot of those ships from the chart above, when it's all over, are still together. Some days that's all you need from an ending.

Maybe I sound like a broken record at this point, but to give you a sense of how heavy the hand of censorship clearly was, understand several of these episodes don't even break the 35-minute mark, and only four are even over 40 minutes long, when ~45 minutes is about the episode standard for this genre. (For comparison, every Untamed episode at least 42 minutes long.) I think it's important to realize just how much actual connective tissue got removed, way more than just individual censored shots or single redubbed lines.

And speaking of redubbed lines, the last episode of this show contains possibly the funniest NO HOMO in BL history. You have to see it to believe it -- or, rather, to not believe it, because the first time I watched, I didn't even understand what the hell the show was implying. I'll say no more.

Where to watch it!

I hope I've convinced you to at least give it a try! It's not a perfect show by any means, but it's a show with many good elements, and if you can embrace what's there without getting too hung up on what's not, it's a pretty good time.

If you're up for it, you can find it on this YouTube playlist -- though be prepared that it often mutes the opening music. It's also available on Viki (with ads, but less muting).

Just look at those precious, pinchable cheeks. Adorable.

[thecrimsonvalley-creates]

~ Slow dance ~ Indulgent artpiece for my melancholy soul! Inspired by the song: Vår sista dans! Explanation of the song choice/text under read more for those of you who want a deep dive :D

So here is my rambling about the song that inspired this piece and I shall share with you all the lore of this really old Swedish song. The song is called “Vår sista dans” which translates into “Our last dance”. It's from the genre that in Sweden is called “dansband” but could most certainly be called a ballad of sort. From my limited knowledge (bestowed upon me by both my curiosity and grandparents) these sort of songs would play before the establishment was supposed to close for the night. A slow, intimate song for all the couples in the audience. This song is however rather “modern”, measured in how long this genre was around. The song's protagonist sings about how this is their last dance with their significant other. There are a few lines which alludes to the fact that some promises has been broken and that the winds of destiny have changed. Still the entire song is them begging the person they love to still hold them, to give it one more chance and to remember that they were their loved one (the word used is “kära” which is an old fashioned way to refer to a significant other). Some lines really stuck with me for this piece and I'll allow myself to share those: “Så håll mig hårt är allt jag ber dig, som ingen annan fanns.” “So hold me tight, that's all I'm asking for, as if no one else existed.” “När musiken dör ut och dansgolvet töms ska jag stå. Ensam kvar, det är slut. Förkrossad ska jag se dig gå.” “When the music dies out and the dance floor empties there I'll stand. All alone, this is the end, With heartbreak I'll watch you leave.”

All of this just resonates with me, as the never ending sentimentalist I am and with all my headcanons about two broken people trying to grasp what “normality” they can ever get. Of trying to have just one dance, not weighed down by all of the events that have and will transpire.

If you read this all: thank you, for listening to me ramble about old Swedish songs from my childhood! :D

[rattycattyfanfic]

(you drive me) crazy

for @mirroredmemoriez's prompt!

1.) Lynn or Amanda reacting to one another’s music tastes! Can keep it broad and just have it as looking at a genre or pick a specific song. Setting wise it can be anywhere, such as oh I’ve bought this CD and sliding the disc in the car.

a shocking 1,521 words! no real warnings except mentions of mandy brain. can kinda sit in bark like a god verse? but doesn't have to.

if anyone would like to submit some simple easy prompts that i can deal with in 500-700 words ideally (although im finding these are spiralling out of control!) my inbox is open :)

One thing Lynn hadn’t anticipated about Amanda, but finds herself continually pleasantly surprised by, is all the strange little commonalities they share. Amanda’s music taste is not particularly vast or varied, but her taste for the alternative overlaps with the soundtrack of Lynn’s own youth in a nostalgic way. 

She remembers the first time, back when they were new and slightly tense – the relief of a common ground in the form of a familiar song playing faintly on the radio. The Cramps, she thinks it had been, but she couldn’t for the life of her name the song. She had simply known that she’d worn it out in her late teens, and that this strange girl was now in her living room bobbing her head along to the same song, oblivious. “I used to love this one,” Lynn had said, breaking the comfortable quiet and hating herself for it. But then Amanda had looked back, up, at her with this odd expression, something akin to surprise or respect, and it had felt easy. She’d smirked, said something snarky, a bit rude, and Lynn had laughed, and it had been a rare easy moment for them amidst all the turmoil.

It’s nice. Unexpected, but nice. Lynn welcomes the throwbacks to her undergrad days, and the insight that the day’s music choice provides into Amanda’s strange head. Her thoughts are still a mystery to Lynn some days, but the music – it helps shine a light on whatever Amanda is thinking that day.

Sometimes, she finds the girl in an oddly energetic mood, spinning Bikini Kill or Blondie whilst she busies herself with household tasks. Often she’ll be bent over some gadget in the backyard, taking the thing apart and putting it back together – the VHS player, or the old bike in the garage that hasn’t been used in years, or some other currently unidentifiable pile of scrap metal and electronics. Lynn can’t even be mad about it. Amanda always puts them back together in perfect, or better, working condition, and so she’s content to hang in the doorway, watching curiously until Mandy perks her head up and notices. 

“Was it too loud?” she says, with grease on her cheeks and a look somewhere between defiant and owlish. 

And Lynn says, will always say, “No,” and then usually, “I love this album. What are you working on?” Amanda grins and launches into an explanation that goes straight over Lynn’s head, however similar metal and electronics and flesh and nerves might be. She furrows her brow and nods attentively, and thinks that she loves Amanda like this, almost childishly excited and hyper-focused to the bright tones of Eat to the Beat.

Similarly, Lynn can tell when it’s a bad day. She knows that when she hears Fiona Apple, Hole, even the rare occasion of Patti Smith whining from Amanda’s oversized headphones, she needs to tread a little more carefully, treat Amanda with a little extra care. That brain of hers is still a mystery to her, especially days like this when she doubts even Amanda can make sense of her tangled thoughts.

She gets this, though, the appeal of quietly enraged vocals, angsty guitars and pianos, fast or slow but equally intense either way. She remembers listening to Revenge as a teenager and how it had spoken to her, soothed emotions she hadn’t even realised she’d had, and she thinks she gets it a little bit. So she sits down on the back porch next to Amanda wordlessly, and lays her head on the girl’s shoulder to catch the odd angsty refrain leaking out of the headphones. She says nothing about the edgy look in those dark eyes, or the raw pink of her sharp cheeks and wrists from where she’d scratched and rubbed restlessly. Lynn sits silently with her, until Amanda lets out a shuddering breath and relaxes just an ounce. 

Today she unplugs her headphones and allows Lynn to listen with her fully. She leans against her shoulder heavily, allows the tenderness of backrubs or fingers combing through her hair. Other days, the headphones stay on and Lynn remains a voyeur, held at arm’s length, the vulnerability of unplugging simply too much for Amanda to bear. Either way, Lynn tucks these shared moments away inside herself and thanks whatever god there is for the safe catharsis of rageful nineties singers. 

Amanda is not a good driver. This is the main, overarching reason Lynn will give if asked why she always prefers to be in the driver’s seat of her own car. She can drive, legally, and does so without accident, but she is not good at it, and Lynn spends most rides with Amanda holding onto her fucking seat wondering if this was part of her torture repertoire when working under John. But then, she supposes, her victims would’ve been unconscious during transportation, and so all the swearing and sharp veers must be either unintentional or for the sheer thrill of it. 

That is the reason Lynn will give for not getting in Amanda’s car if she can help it. The reason she will not give, is that Amanda’s baseline – and her favourite driving music – is largely completely fucking unlistenable industrial metal. Nine Inch Nails, Nitzer Ebb, and Ministry take pride of place in the driving fast and badly playlist. It all sounds like construction site noise to Lynn, and only adds to the distressing experience of being driven around by someone she has to remind herself is criminally insane. 

Her car is in the shop, though, and they need groceries. And so, Lynn is white knuckling the seat of Amanda’s beaten up shitbox while KMFDM screeches through tinny speakers. She thinks there’s probably never been such an intense fucking drive to the grocery store in all of history.

She’s about to say something bitchy, maybe ask her to turn it off or down at the very least, but when she looks over, she snorts. Amanda has her sunglasses on and is nodding to the beat, tapping her fingers rapidly against the steering wheel, looking fully in the zone whilst she swears at another driver for daring to obey the highway code. “I can’t believe you like this shit, Mandy,” she says instead with an exasperated laugh, and gets a bright grin in response. 

“It’s fun,” Amanda defends lightly, and glances back at the road, veering around another corner way too fast. “It’s fast. I like it!” 

Lynn rolls her eyes. “‘Kill motherfuckin’ Depeche Mode?’ That’s fun?” She doesn’t see the appeal, honestly, but it fits Mandy she supposes. Erratic, brash, angry in a gleeful way. It fits her perfectly. She’ll grin and bear it, maybe even learn to love it like she had Mandy, despite all the ways she had infuriated her at first. 

Amanda opens her mouth as if she’s about to respond, but the song fades out and into the next, and she turns a soft pink instead. She reaches out awkwardly towards the dashboard to skip the song, but Lynn is fast too. Lynn knows her 00s pop music – put it down to having a young daughter and nothing else, nothing else. She grabs the girl’s slender wrist and stops her in her tracks, and the song continues. A grin spreads across Lynn’s face, and Amanda groans.

“Lynn–” 

The unmistakable intro to Toxic plays out through the speakers at the same volume as the heavy industrial stuff, and there’s no hiding from it. Amanda goes a deeper shade of pink, as if this is somehow the most embarrassing thing Lynn has learnt about her to date. 

It must be her growing sadistic streak, but Lynn can’t help but dig a little. She holds Mandy’s wrist still, hovering inches away from the skip button. “I would never have pegged you for a closet Britney fangirl, baby,” she teases, and delights in the way Amanda flushes and splutters. 

“I don’t know how that got on the playlist, Lynn – fuck – Lynn, skip it,” she stammers. 

“No, I like it,” Lynn says smugly, and sits back, entwining their fingers together and effectively stopping her from skipping it lest she crash them both into a ditch. “And so do you, apparently – keep that hand on the wheel.”

Amanda groans, but stops fighting. She squeezes Lynn’s hand hard, digs her nails in a little viciously, but keeps her other hand on the wheel and lets the bubbly pop keep playing. Even as she flushes, loudly proclaims her embarrassment, Lynn can see her knee subtly bouncing to the beat. She looks one second from whispering the lyrics to herself.

One last dig, for the fun of it. Lynn feels high on the silliness of the moment, a bubble of unfamiliar giggliness in her throat. “Do you know the dance moves too?”

“Oh my god!” Amanda exclaims, throwing her head back. She steps on the pedal in exasperation and the car surges forward. She really shouldn’t be allowed to drive. A minute later, when she finally manages to swallow down the worst of her humiliation, Amanda mumbles, barely audible above the autotune. “...Yes.”

Lynn laughs out loud.

[laughroditee]

Okay, so this is a screenshot of Barry Sloane’s Spotify playlist that he made for Captain Price. He included “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails, which I thought was very interesting. I’d given some thoughts on a previous post reblogged from @staytrueblue about what I thought concerning the implications of its inclusion, but I thought it would be fun to make a headcanon of just how closer!price would show up in bed in fics. I wrote a lot of this at 3 AM when I was plagued with sudden insomnia, so I apologize if anything is hard to follow or, conversely, over-explanative. My brain juices are very bad. I hope I’m doing this right.

So, let’s take a look at the song lyrics in chunks and apply them to Price.

CW: we get a little religious, but it’s more like him worshipping you and not an actual religion. I just thought I’d warn you if that sort of talk bothers you. (It’s in the song lyrics, so…)

You let me violate you You let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you You let me complicate you

So we have some pretty negative, violent words here like “violate,” “penetrate” (which, we know what that means in this context obviously), and “complicate.” Still, it’s the inclusion of “desecrate” that I want to focus on here. To desecrate something is to “to treat a sacred place or thing with violent disrespect” meaning that closer!price views you as something sacred. Conversely, he’s applying all of these negative, violent words to himself, turning himself into not only an aggressor but one who acts against divine or holy things. In other words, he sees himself as a sinner or something profane. (We’re moving with the vocabulary of the song here.)

So why would closer!price think of himself in this way? Well, let’s look at one of his quotes from Modern Warfare (2019):

"We get dirty and the world stays clean. That's the mission."

John chooses to make this soul-sacrifice willingly. And he chooses this every time so that other people don't have to. This is His Duty™️. And he does it without complaint. But just because you choose something doesn't mean you like it. John is always driven to do The Right Thing™️, at least by his own moral compass, even if it means disobeying orders or shooting a US General in the face for betraying his team. (Chaotic Good king.) However, no choice is without consequence, even if it's merely subconscious. So, going by this line, closer!price views himself as dirty, and I think it's more than just blood on his hands. The atrocities he’s performed in order to protect his country and the world take their toll on the soul. But he accepts that.

At the same time, closer!price sees you as clean. He thinks you're out of his league, that he doesn't deserve you. He could be almost apologetic about wanting to be with you at first, not wanting to disrupt your nice and clean life with the darkness of war that lives within him. He might even resist you for as long as possible.

(Honestly a lot of this runs parallel to how I tend to interpret Simon, but there are a lot of differences there too. Simon, I think wears his dark underbelly very openly – just look at the guy’s design FFS, and personality. But Price’s shadow seems less obvious than Simon’s, and maybe that’s due to the latter’s additional childhood trauma on top of his military trauma.)

Getting back to the lyrics, let’s narrow in on the first parts of those lyrics: “you let me.” closer!price needs your consent, because if you let him “violate/desecrate/penetrate/complicate” you, someone so pure in his eyes, taking such a miserable sinner like him into their body, then he must have some chance at redemption. The path to his absolution lies in your acceptance of him into your body.

I broke apart my insides (Help me) I've got no soul to sell (Help me) the only thing that works for me Help me get away from myself

We get more into the broken/soulless imagery here, and his desperate desire to escape himself. Where else would he escape to but into you?

closer!price would probably want someone outside of the military, a safe haven when he's home and away from the battlefield. He wants to have a piece of that world he's keeping clean, even if he doesn't feel like he deserves it and feels separate from it. You are his link to his own humanity, which he feels is actively eroding with every mission.

closer!price would think you're cute talking about your normal civilian life, but not in a patronizing way. He takes it as evidence that his sacrifice is worth it. That, because your life is quiet and mundane, he’s doing his job right.

closer!price would also try to keep you as far away from his work life as possible, to protect you and keep you clean, not for him but for your own good.

I wanna fuck you like an animal I wanna feel you from the inside I wanna fuck you like an animal

Barry also included many songs on the playlist with “beast” in the title, which goes back to the whole “I’m not human, I’m an animal” thing, echoing that loss of humanity.

My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God

closer!price may not be a religious man, but fucking you is transcendental for him. Every time is a blessing. Every noise you make is a benediction.

He isn't needy as much as he becomes existential, as if being inside you were a matter of his continued existence on this plane. He becomes weak in this moment because this becomes a fight for his soul. (Not that he would force anything, because that's not okay.)

He would worship your body, your temple, filling you with his cum as if this is how you draw the sins out of his body. And he is absolved. For now.

You can have my isolation You can have the hate that it brings You can have my absence of faith You can have my everything

Here, we’re seeing this idea of giving over to the divine (which is you). The stripping away of all the bullshit that’s in closer!price’s head as he’s lost in fucking you.

you tear down my reason (Help me) it's your sex I can smell (Help me) you make me perfect Help me become somebody else

Here, you can see him getting more animalistic or primal from the loss of his ability to reason (what are humans known for if not their power to reason?) to enhanced senses. You take away all of that for closer!price in an all-encompassing, deconstructive way. He sheds his identity when he’s with you, that identity of “Captain Price, soldier.” This is more of a “universal oneness” concept than a Biblical God here IMO; “help me become somebody else” is a plea for rebirth.

I wanna fuck you like an animal I wanna feel you from the inside I wanna fuck you like an animal My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God Through every forest Above the trees Within my stomach Scraped off my knees I drink the honey Inside your hive You are the reason I stay alive

Boy’s not afraid to kneel. He will treat you like the deity you are. He basically lives for your p/bussy and is a giant fucking munch; I don’t know what else to say.

[yourtastefulcannibal]

What song would you associate yourself with, and why?

“Now, this question has had me pondering for a great number of days now, and after much consideration I have perhaps settled upon an answer.”

“Music is, and has by all accounts always been, a large part of my life. As such, a question like this is insurmountable, akin to asking a painter what the single best painting ever conceived is — perhaps they might find you an answer, but would it ever be the whole truth? Is there ever one mere answer that could satisfy one who has founded their life off the concept that is so profound as to be unable to be condensed to one single point in time, one work of art?”

“I digress, however, with the caveat before I answer that in choosing one song, I am neglecting many others, and my one choice here is not to put the other many options out of my mind.”

“The the risk of sounding cliché, I will choose Vivaldi’s Four Seasons as my answer, in particular all three sonnets of Concerto No. 2 in G minor, ‘L'estate,’ Summer, alongside the allegro of Concerto No. 4 in F minor, ‘L'inverno,’ Winter. I am, admittedly, cheating when I have chosen the Four Seasons, as it permits me to choose more than simply one song. I do hope you might forgive me for this.”

“I was unable to narrow down my selections from L’estate, as I feel all three movements encapsulate elements of my being in different manors. The storms of the adagio and presto speak to my at times fevered pace of living, my continual need to be in movement, the pace necessary in accomplishing my many professional and personal pursuits. Meanwhile the allegro non molto of L’estate speaks to me of those occasional quiet moments in which I indulge, at times the solitude growing stifling like the summer heat.”

“The winter allegro, meanwhile, which is written to depict the intensity and fury of winter storms, speaks to my occasional melancholy, the rare intensity of emotions that are often a surprise, even to me, in their nature.”

“Now… with this long winded explanation, I do hope I have aptly answered your question.”

[this… took so long to decide. I could not resist choosing four seasons, however, as summer in particular screams Hannibal for me. All of the songs I listen to that remind me of him aren’t ones he would listen to, tragically (and there are a lot that remind me of him/the show in general)]