#the absolute satisfaction i have from knowing i dont feel this way anymore

[cowboylikesubai]

unknown / ranata suzuki / unknown / i miss you, im sorry by gracie abrams / @/hagims on twitter / mary oliver / louise gluck / @/gaphic / unknown

"forgive me...memory is a rope round my neck"

#the absolute satisfaction i have from knowing i dont feel this way anymore #web weaving #web weave #dark academia #on love #on unrequited love #on remembering #<3 #quotes #literature #gracie abrams #writers and poets #grief #words #art #movie screenshots #heartbreak #on heartbreak #taylor swift

[mysicklove]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 // 𝐒𝐔𝐁! 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀 𝐱 𝐃𝐎𝐌! 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Warnings: Brat taming, biting/marking, fingering

Toga, for how adorable she is, is an absolute nightmare to dominate. But you should have know that the second you got involved with her.

She loves to push every button, loves to see how far you will go, loves to see your face contort when she's gone too far. She wants every ounce of your attention to be on her, no matter if its positive or negative.

Thus, you have to be strict. She needs someone who will watch her every move. Almost every word that falls from your mouth is command. “Stop.” “Keep going Himiko.” “Enough. Hey! I said enough.” “Cmon love, beg for it.” 

She doesn't have any room for leeway. You give her an inch and she goes a mile. So, it's easier for her to sit back and obey, her mind seems to wander if she doesn't. Goes back to ways to get more and more attention.

She bites. It's a huge problem the two of you are working on. Marking problem, she's too possessive for her own good. Even with the commands she somehow always manages to get you covered with hickies and bite marks. The league always made fun of you for it.

You wince as she digs her teeth into your shoulder while she sits on your lap. For the last couple of minute you have been ramming your fingers into her cunt. Moans and high pitches whiles escape her lips, and she's stares at you with hearts in her eyes. She had that look in her eyes, you should have known something was coming. 

“Himiko, did I say you could bite me?” You pull your fingers out and she whines, loud and dramatic.

“But it's so pretty! I love seeing my things all marked up!” She squeals with a massive grin on her face, a blush coating her cheeks. She begins rocking her hips to try to find your fingers again.

You sigh and run your other hand over the mark. Another scar most likely, but at least there was no blood this time. You look away from her, not giving her the satisfaction of your watchful gaze. “Did I say you could bite me?” You repeat, your tone more stern.

Silence. She shakes her head, smile dropping ever so slightly as she tries to make eye contact with you. She craves it. 

“Speak, Himiko.” You scold, instead focusing your attention on your fingers caressing her neck.

“No…But-” At the hint of complaint you begin to slide her off your lap and her smile falls completely. This has happened many times before, but everytime it plays a massive effect on her.

She tries to scramble back into it, but you stand up completely, not looking at her. She kneels naked on the couch, eyes wide and panicked. “I don't play with girls who whine and complain. Who dont listen to simple commands.” 

When you begin to walk away she clutches at your wrist. “Sorry! I’ll be good. I won’t whine and complain, I'll listen! Please just touch me!” You raise your eyebrows and turn back to her. 

She has to hide her smile when she meets your eyes again, the blush is not hidden though. You can see right through her.

But even so, you can't be upset. She always seems to be improving. The first time you turned your back on her she tackled you and threatened to murder you with a knife pressed to your throat. She realized very quickly that this tactic doesn't work, considering you aren't scared of her and are just as strong as she is. You refused to touch her for a couple of weeks after that.

Begging and apologies work. You give her a second chance, and that's it. She can toy and press your buttons, but after the first warning, she learns quickly that if she wants to feel good she has to listen.

So, you sit back down. Giggles and squeals come from the girl, which you don't even question anymore, as she crawls back into your lap. Your finger finds her hole again, and begins the repetitive motion of moving in and out. Maybe you were too forgiving, maybe you should have made her beg for it. But alas, you were feeling nice.

She shivers and rubs her forehead against yours with that wide almost eerie smile. You bring your other hand to her mouth, and she opens it for you. You run your thumb over her two sharp canines. “You are a lot of work, you know that darling?”

She giggles, knowing your teasing always is affectionate. “You love me,” She murmurs whimsically, her speech distorted with the thumb still running over her teeth. She licks the digit and you pull away with a small disgusted frown, while she laughs again.

You other thumb fingers her clit and the laugh turns into a whimper. You continue the ruthless pace and she gasps, a feral smile still plastered on her face. Her gaze falls back to the bite mark and you sigh knowing what's to come. “Can I? Can I please?” She whines, pushing her hips back into your fingers.

In this state, it was hard to say no to her. She was so cute like this, only chasing her own pleasure. “No biting, no blood. Only hickies, do you understand Himiko?”

“Yes!” She exclaims with a moan, before latching onto your neck, sucking and kissing the skin until it's red and bruised. You shut your eyes and take the girls ruthless mouth, used to this..

“I thought we were going to work on the marking thing.” You sigh, rubbing her hair affectionately, while continuing the pace that makes her whine and cry.

“B-But you are mine!”

“Yeah I know, but does the whole world have to know?” You mumble, trying to hold back a wince when her canines accidentally (or purposefully) graze your skin.

She tears away from the skin, face flushed and sweaty from the antics of your fingers. She has that look again, the look of a pure villain. Her eyes hazy and dilated, her mouth spread wide as she brings her hands to her face like a schoolgirl. You pause your motions.

“Yes! Should show the whole world that you belong to me! All mine!”

You can't help but smile back at that strange grin, that seems to draw you in. You lean forward and press your lips to hers. 

“All yours, my love," You mumble against her lips. She opens her mouth, and giggles.

#dom! reader #mha smut #bnha smut #smut #x reader #reader insert #sub! himiko #himiko toga #himiko toga smut #toga x reader #toga bnha #toga himiko #himiko x reader #himiko smut #toga smut #sub mha #mha fanfiction #toga x reader smut #himiko x reader smut #sub toga x reader

[saw-x]

The thing is that PWs clearly like the unbalanced dynamic of their ship cause EJ gets what he wants while Gina is not as happy or she's constantly compromising or letting things go while EJ walks all over her. So it's ironic that they try to act like he was the best dynamic or relationship for her when it's obvious even they know she's not enjoying herself. But that's the selling point for those shippers. I think it's telling that these anti black PW/Rinis are lashing out at Gina now that she refuses to pander to rich yt boy with the daddy issues anymore cause clearly that was the reason they enjoyed their ship: some sick satisfaction seeing the black lead be treated as an afterthought in her relationship. My conclusion is that they dont even like PW either. They just like seeing Gina down and not treated right and her best shot at that kind of treatment is with EJ. They only tolerate her. When she starts demanding better from EJ, they start their vile attack. They love to talk about s2 Gina being their favorite version, and surprise surprise, that was her most miserable time, constantly upset and hurt. And they hate Rina because Ricky treats Gina like an absolute queen that she is, bending over backwards to make her happy and these racist show "fans" don't like seeing her happy, cared for, enjoying herself, and being deeply loved by the lead to the point he is making himself heartsick. Gina started getting more focus in s2 than Nini and those crazy fans have never gotten over it since.

^^^this 100%

I have seen a lot of racism and vile attacks of Gina and their true colours are shining through. I didn’t really think it was my place though to say it given I’m not black or American, but it really makes me sick how those fans treat Gina and I have seen a lot of flat out racism towards her. It disgusts me.

They enjoy Gina only when she was miserable and acting like someone she wasn’t to gain the approval of their fave rich white boy who treated her like a doormat. Gina became a shell of herself in season 2 and settled for less than she deserved because she felt it was the only way to keep her feelings safe. It’s funny that they used to love saying that they wanted Gina with EJ because he made her happy, but ignore that he made her miserable and that he was never what she wanted. Ricky let’s her be herself and treats her like a queen AND that is who makes her happy and who she wants. They don’t actually want to see her happy and demonize every action she did this season - when she was the one trying to keep that relationship afloat. Whenever they talk about pw it is always in terms of EJ and what would make him happy and they don’t care at all about Gina’s feelings. It is completely clear where they stand and how they really feel about Gina.

#asks #rina #ricky x gina #honestly thanks for sending this because it is something that needs to be said

[princess-pill-enjoyer]

i don't get it. im in a position where i can make so much progress. ive had interviews damn near every day this week. I go to therapy now. i dont do pills. i eat. i try to talk out what im feeling more. but its just not enough. theres STILL something there and im edging closer to it. i can feel it. im on the brink of something horrible. i dont know what's going to happen once i reach that point. im scared of what'll happen. but it feels like once it comes i wont be able to hold back. i genuinely dont know how i did this before

being so busy.. i think it was a buffer. i never felt involved in my feelings really. id just ignore them and hide them away. in one hand, im glad i am where i am. the highs i feel feel so different from back then. ive never felt satisfaction like i do now. some times anyway. but the lows STING. i can really simmer on them now. it gives the gnawing insecurities Ive been feeling a meaning. a place in me that i have to accept. i have to actively accommodate for it all now. or ill implode

every day feels like a gamble. i cant express how little i want to do/be here. i dont care about any of this fr. i care about hurting people. its paralyzing. Ive always been such a people pleaser and i cant let it go. I will minimize everything until i absolutely cant anymore. and atp i feel so backed into a corner. my only two options seem to be either blow up and forced somewhere until i can find the drive to do something other than killing myself... ooor... kill myself. i swear that wasnt on purpose lmfao. but seriously. i mean what are the other options? i can barely push myself to do anything anymore. i dont care to. id isolate from everyone if they didnt reach out so often. well that and they notice now. ive ghosted everyone too many times they all know to just act sad so ill come back T^T

i get really tempted to tell my best friend about all this. i feel like i talk too much about myself nowadays. or talk too little or too boringly on others. but then i reread ts i used to say back/how i used to say it and i think ? i prefer us now ??

HA nah. im sure its the insecurity talking. i really do love her. she is the one and only i know will stick around no matter what. no matter how boring or how angry i get she does not hate my guts. i wish i didnt like her so much tbh. it makes me angry how angry i get with her sometimes. i cant help myself when i notice something off. shes the one person i can openly express my frustrations without consequence. but i take it too far cause of it. ive had no experience with that sorta shit. i try to be better to her cause of it. i think its only fair. the junk ive put her through this last year.. the rage ive thrown at her. thee inattentiveness. selfish. ive been too focused on making myself feel better that ive let her sting because of it. i want to make it up tenfold. she deserves more. and if i cant have her in the way i want her, i will do my best in whatever place she wants me in instead. for now, thats been a more casual friendship. she doesnt talk to me as much about her feelings. her heart is really broken about her ex. as much as i dont understand what she sees in her i know that she needs her time to bounce back. i think shes getting it out of her new person. she talks about how annoying she finds her and how she disrespects her boundaries a lot. they broke up almost immediately. but she stuck around because she felt obligated to and now i think theyre building something better. hopefully. i dont meddle as much now. i dont want to hear it + prying shit from her is NOT worth the effort. when shes ready, shes so eloquent. i love listening to her talk. even when its about nothing

im gonna stop babbling about her now. i wish i wasnt so close with her i swear i make myself disgustingly obvious.. anyway. i bring up all that to say, her battery is dead. i want her to focus on making herself feel better for now. she needs to stop overextending herself so damn much. i wont let myself be another burden for her to bear. though with such a giant rush of new feelings and a single person that i know loves me no matter what.. its kinda hard

i wish that i could talk through everything with her. if only it were that easy.

i think im going to relapse not gonna lie. it makes no sense not to. ig for my health but aside from that? itll help me feel more careless. i wont need to cut myself, i wont need to blow up, i wont need to think anymore. i can just focus on acting sober annnd holding down a job. much easier than holding back whatever this is now. if this could come out of me without leaving a broken mess, i would. but if i ever told anyone my true feelings id make them sad. i need to lash out to gain the momentum to bring it up.

im gonna stop writing now. i feel like ill go on forever again.. its just been tangent after tangent

#dph addiction recovery #vent

[cynettic]

Reader x Genshin Boys NSFW

Summary - You wear their shirt that’s too big for you the morning after a steamy night ;)

Pairings - Fem!Reader x Xiao/Aether/Diluc

Warnings - NSFW, yknow what that means folks, no minors

A/N - I plan to do a part 2 with more characters after, idk which ones tho

Xiao

He will stare.

Right after you walk out of your bedroom doors, heading over to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. Xiao will probably be on the coach, enjoying a plate of Almond Tofu for breakfast that you prepared for him in the fridge.

Easy to say that he will leave the plate on the counter to stand up and walk towards you.

At this stage of your relationship, the two of you were quite comfortable with physical contact, after all the two of you literally fucked last night. So he’ll slowly wrap his arms around your waist, noting that it was indeed his shirt, that it was quite big on you ( to his satisfaction ), and that you looked damn well in it.

“Is that my shirt?”

He will still ask, and when you reply that yes, it is indeed his shirt, he will bury his head against the crook of your neck.

“It smells like you.”

It also smells like what happened last night, but Xiao wont comment that, leaning against you with slightly tinted cheeks. Its enough to turn him on, much to his embarrassment, and he’ll press a few kisses to the back of your neck to distract himself.

By the time you finish making your coffee, you pour an extra cup for him, turning around to quickly peck him on the lips. But the extra shade of red on his face and the hard sensation below doesnt go missed by you, and with a chuckle you pull him closer.

“After last night?” You tease, pressing yourself further against him just to hear him grunt, rubbing against him slightly.

Xiao has his limits.

And you… well you asked for it.

He’ll sit you up on the counter, right beside the long forgotten coffee that’ll probably go by unmissed and grow cold by the time hes done with you.

He will start slow, torturous because you teased him first, and hes going to make you pay for it. Not too long though, cause he doesnt want to delay his need either.

Pressing a few butterfly kisses on your stomach, he will slip his head under his big oversized shirt.

“X-Xiao! Hey-”

He will quickly move up, just until his lips reach your breasts, and he toys with the nipples, nipping and biting them with his tongue and teeth. He’s still under the shirt, and all you can do is press his head closer to your chest while soft whimpers escape your lips.

The sound is music to his ears.

By the time he makes it to your lips, the shirt you were wearing is thrown off, strewn somewhere in the kitchen, you cant remember where.

“Y/n, this is what you want right?” Xiao will always ask for consent, and especially after wearing you off last night, he wants to make sure not to hurt you.

When you respond with a yes, he wont waste his time rubbing against you, instead shoving off the shorts he had on for the day, and pressing himself deep inside you until you’re yelping and clenching his shoulders desperately. Writhing at every thrust and calling out his name. He obviously has the stamina and strength to not be tired from last night, but you’re a different story.

Safe to say that you arent going places after that.

Aether

He will try to be more inconspicuous, but yeah, hes staring at you.

You cant blame him, after last night, you’re wearing his ‘shirt.’ If that isnt a turn on he doesnt know what is. He’ll definitely try to hide it though, shift uncomfortably and move his head away so you cant see him completely flushed red.

His mind is definitely going places.

He doesnt want to push you after last night, and even though he isnt really tired in the slightest, he knows you’re probably still sore, even though he was gentle.

You’re oblivious to whatever’s going on in his head, that is, until you go sit on his lap.

“Uhm… Aether?”

He’ll blame it and say its just ‘morning wood’, to which you dont believe him at all. But not wanting to embarrass him further, you sit beside him and instead pull him into a kiss. This he can handle, but a few kisses end up going farther than just a makeout session, and clothes fly off, especially his shirt around your shoulders.

By the time Aether realizes that this was what he was trying to avoid, it was too late. He will ask if youd like to proceed with it, and you laugh and tell him you’re alright, and to continue.

When he enters you, he will be slow, too slow. You push against him to encourage him to go faster, grinding your hips against his member until hes fully entered. It wont take long for him to start pumping in and out, pressing soft kisses to your lips when you whine and scratch his back.

By the time you both finish, Aether will carry your tired form back to bed. Wrapping you in the blankets and letting you rest there for the remainder of the day. Its his free day off, so you’ll get a breakfast in bed.

The boy is just too sweet and precious <3

Diluc

This man will choke on whatever hes eating.

Diluc absolutely sucks at hiding the surprise when watching you stride in so confidently wearing ‘his’ shirt. Which is oversized by the way, and drifts down to your knees while still slightly exposing your figure. He covers his stare with a cough, greeting you a goodmorning.

You don’t notice, mumbling a goodmorning and pressing a kiss against his forehead. When you lean down though, he gets a good look at your cleavage, and he swears hes going to lose it. But Diluc is known for being a man of patience and self control.

Until he isnt.

It starts with a kiss, it always starts with a kiss. Slow and passionate, until you’re in his lap and he cant take it anymore. Until all he wants to hear are the whimpers that escape your throat and the soft breathless calls of his name begging for you.

“Ill make you feel good Y/n.”

And he does.

Its your fault, you shouldnt have worn his shirt, shouldnt have provoked him after such a long night. But you dont say no, dont object as he picks you up and takes you to the bed, slowly draping you down.

The lower half of your body is hanging off the bedside, bare as he lowers himself to level his lips to your thighs. You dont move against the contact against your legs, his kisses drifting further up, higher and higher.

When he reaches your wet pussy, he rubs his lips against the cloth of your panties, moving his lips to kiss and suck. You clench your inner thighs against his head, hands coming to tousle his hair.

“D-Diluc…”

He wastes no time to pull your panties down, sliding them down your legs torturously slow before gazing at your dripping wet lips. You squirm and try to press your legs together as if you can feel his gaze on your cunt, but he holds your thighs wide open for him with his large calloused hands. His thumbs rubbing over the soft delicate skin of your hips.

The contact of his lips sucking on your clit sends you on overdrive, and you’re quivering. When his tongue slides into your wet hole, your legs are rubbing against his shoulders, back and forth as you writhe against the pleasure climbing up your body.

He knows exactly the effect he has on you.

Its not too long until you cum, muffling your cries into the sheets as your hands clench the blankets on the side. He licks all of it off your pussy, and you dont have enough energy to moan against the continuous blissful contact on your sensitive cunt.

Pulling you up and under the covers, he lays beside you, pressing your face against his chest. You fall asleep in no time, tired after a second round.

#genshin impact #genshin diluc #genshin aether #genshin xiao #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshot #aether x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #smut #genshin smut #cynsbadbadnsfw

[dyketubbo]

theres a lot of people who seem to think that c!beeduo will have some sort of giant argument abt ranboos or quackity will take tubbos last life or something and im just like. no i just want them to talk LMAO can we get a tubbo talking about his problems and have an arc of tubbo realizing that he shouldnt just accept mistreatment and that repressing his emotions is not the same as healthily moving on from trauma. i want him and quackity to be equals with mutual respect (which is where their relationship had already left off), i know realistically theres going to be conflict but like.

ranboo and tubbo both already know theyre keeping secrets, tubbo wouldnt be mad about enderwalk because its not dangerous, ranboo wouldnt be mad because tubbo didnt tell him about his past, at most ranboo would be upset *for* tubbo because like. theres no good reason for ranboo to get mad that tubbo didnt tell him about something incredibly traumatizing, and theres. no reason for tubbo to be pissed about sleepwalking, even *if* ew!ranboo has conmections with dream, tubbo has already expressed that he wouldnt blame ranboo for anything he couldnt control, and tubbo himself knows how easy it is for dream to get under peoples skin

also i feel like some people seem to lean wayyy too far into quackity being a villain to remember what *kind* of villain he is. he isnt like schlatt, who used political and perceived power to get his way. he isnt like dream, who slowly wittled down peoples defenses and convinced others that it was deserved and that he was in the right (to the point where people *still* believe what he said about tommy). he uses similar tactics, yes, but he's still his own kind of villain, and i truly do not believe quackity is going to kill tubbo when theres. not a very big benefit to doing so? at the least he gets the ire of ranboo and tommy. but its very likely that hes going to piss off a *ton* of people, because tubbo is like. very loved among the community, even most of the las nevadas citizens genuinely like tubbo (slime and quackity only being exceptions because we dont know exactly what their opinions are, but its unlikely that they dislike tubbo)

its unlikely for tubbo to permadie, and i think unlikely for beeduo and las nevadas' conflict to be much more than a moral conflict. hell, i think its more likely for ranboos focus on this conflict to cause an issue within the syndicate (ranboo and phil both focusing on tubbo and growing close with him, and weve been waiting for the ball to drop on technos response to it all, and it may come to a head with them all being apart of the las nevadas plot), or to even just tie up a lot of loose ends with various relationships (cough cough fundy and ranboo cough cough)

i also just dont think it works for the characters to have beeduo have a big fallout (or even really a big argument in general) or for quackity to cause such large harm to tubbo. like ive been trying to collect my thoughts on how beeduos relationship will develop for a while and i want to make a post about it but just as a general tubbo is canonically very loved and cared about on the smp, its very risky to cause harm to him and i feel like quackity would know that. also tubbo has never had a problem with people protecting him LMAO him and tommys entire relationship has been based around protecting each other, tubbo himself is very protective, i doubt tubbo would feel much more than annoyance at ranboos meddling and ultimately if he disagreed with ranboos morals i think he'd at least speak up about that (also tubbo honestly follows the "people not sides" thing in his own way, after all he and punz were always friendly, and hes friends with phil, literally married to ranboo, friends with sam, etc etc)

generally just like, i think tubbos story arc would be best if this led into a healing arc, like its very likely that someone will bring up him being a spy before and how it ended badly and tubbo wont be able to avoid it anymore, and with proper pressuring, yeah, i think he'd snap. but itd be cathartic, and also i do not think anyone around tubbo has the heart to just like, watch him break or even truly get satisfaction out of it. tubbo dying would only further his belief that his life doesnt matter, dream wouldnt revive tubbo, thats kind of just a given. canon wise, it makes sense for tubbo to survive (cough cough parallels to how tommy got out of exile, being the only president to live, also like he has a fucking son), and it makes sense for him to be able to genuinely get those around him to question their morals and how theyve treated him and others. i really do think tubbos arc is heading in a direction where hes gonna heal, and i think its absolutely going to be an emotional/moral struggle rather than a physical one

the people around tubbo have already encouraged him to be emotionally open before, just a bit more pushing and i think theres a chance. is tubbo going to break before he gets better? yeah, but i dont think its going to come in the form of him dying or even an argument with ranboo- which i just do not think will happen in the way most seem to think it will. they are genuinely good partners that love and care for each other, they consistently interact and work together on almost everything. yes they need better communication, but ultimately "i went/am going through a traumatizing experience and i didnt want to worry you by telling" is not a relationship breaker, neither of them are dangerous or harmful to each other. i understand the want to have a lot of action but thats likely going to come with the prison plotline, and tubbos relationships with the prisoners is a much different situation than his relationships with ranboo and quackity (INTENSELY different). hell, dreams in fuckin prison and is still a bigger danger to tubbo than ranboo and quackity could ever be

#long post #mask mews #dsmp #tubbo #quackity #ranboo #beeduo #this is very much a bunch of rambling and disconnected thoughts that i put down in a stream of consciousness #this also took three attempts LMAO i kept going onto a bunch of different topics. this is the most cohesive version. im very sorry #feel free to add responses whether through replies or rbs or asks or whatever idc but also you will get a bunch of rambling in response

[bonny-kookoo]

Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

His eyes had seen the words written in neat lettering time and time again, yet he still read it again, trying to calm himself down.

They were trying to take you away.

Your parents were basically not as financially stable as you thought, basically having the audacity to ask you for money.

He was trying not to snap.

He'd known that your mother was a whore, already trying to safe your situation by digging up information he'd rather delete from his mind, forever scarred with the blasphemic image of her showing herself off to strangers on the web like a cheap commercial before a video starts, desperation being an understatement to describe her actions. Or maybe she did it only for the thrill.

She was a vile and distusting woman after all.

It was quite confusing to think of her as the woman who'd been responsible for bringing you into this world. He had a hard time believing it as he thought about your gentle and sweet nature, pure and caring while this sorry excuse of a human being did everything to play with karma it seemed.

Well, maybe he'd change his name for a day and play that role for her.

After all, she was an impatient woman he'd noticed from her constant reminding to buy obscene photos and short videos of her truly underwhelming body for an amount of money he'd rather spend on a coffee and a small breakfast to share with you, if he was being honest.

Why someone would genuinely pay for content like that was beyond him.

"I dont.. understand-" The female voice quivered on the other side of the line, making the corners of his lips turn upwards a bit as he listened to it, gaining some sort of satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten under her skin.

"Oh but I think you do." He said, voice smooth like velvet as he watched her pace back and forth in front of her admittedly bad webcam of her opened laptop. Living off of her husbands money couldn't be so luxurious he thought, if she couldn't even afford a decent laptop for the things she did whenever no one was looking.

It was truly making his saliva taste bitter merely thinking about it.

"If you think deleting your account will safe you, you're even more stupid than I initially thought." He mumbled into his phone as he saw her eyes widen, hands stalling as her gaze locked with the tiny device on top of her screen. She probably paled, yet the quality was too bad to tell for sure. "Everything has already been saved and will remain in my possession for as long as I have need of it." He stated, and clicked his tongue as she seemed to think of something to get herself out of it. "And remember; calling the police or informing any other authority will only result in you having to admit to your crimes as well. And I believe that isn't truly what you want." She snapped, hitting her table as she watched the camera, unknowing how Jungkook didn't even pay attention anymore, knowing he'd finally caught her head inside his noose.

"How much do you want?" She gritted out, and he chuckled, before clearing his throat.

"Your mindset truly disgusts me." He said, before sighing. "I don't want your fucking money."

He sat down properly again as he looked at his screen again.

"But I want you to do something for me.."

"It's nice to know that she finally found someone who can look after her." Your father stated, smiling at Jungkook who sat next to you at the table,taking your hand in his as he mirrored the gesture, spotting the way your mother tensed up in the corner of his vision, making him chuckle a bit.

"No, really, I am happy I've found her." He said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit shyly, making you giggle at his antics. Initially, you'd been a little worried when your parents wanted to meet Jungkook, not even knowing how they got to know about your relationship- your mother, however, had cleared things up for you, explaining that he'd updated them on your condition when you were in hospital. Maybe she did care, after all. "Right, angel?" He said, and you nodded, smiling with a bit of redness on your cheeks.

Absolutely divine.

"Alright, let me clean this up, You guys can head to bed, its already late." Your father said as he stood up, everyone else following after, when you'd suddenly grabbed Jungkooks plate and empty glass, smiling. Out of the corner of his he could see your mother empty her glass greedily, making him smile even wider.

Greed was a sin to be punished, after all.

"I'll do that, don't worry." You smiled, and he cooed at the sight. You were so absolutely sweet, he was always astounded at it, even though he should be getting used to it by now. He'd never get used to you, however. He nodded, giving you a kiss to your cheek as your father called for your mother, who'd been about to leave the table.

"Can you show Jungkook here where the guest room is? Help him set the bed, will you." He spoke, warmth as fake as her eyelashes as she smiled tensely, nodding towards Jungkook as he followed, comfortable with leaving you and your father alone for the moment. He wasn't a threat at all.

Your mother however, was a different story.

If she'd thought he wouldn't pick up on her dark gazes and blunt lies she truly was brainless. But then again, considering what she did with her freetime, he wouldn't be surprised to find her entirely empty.

Opening the door of the guest room, your mother closed the door behind him, slowly walking towards his back which was turned towards her, hands running over his shoulderblades as he shuddered.

But not with pleasure.

"I bet a young boy like you has stamina, heh?" She said, trying to form a seducing tone with her voice, yet failed as his eyes continued to stare forward, cold as ever as he stood unmoving, even when she came even closer. "Why would you get yourself someone like her anyways? There's nothing about her.." She chatted away, before stopping. "Wha-" She breathed out as she felt something poke her hip.

She was dead inside already, so why was she still up and walking like a zombie?

"You truly are disgusting." He murmured, turning around to hold his hand against her throat, backing her up until she could feel the wooden door against her back, chin pushing itself upwards as she looked at him with wide eyes. "To imagine that your rotten womb gave birth to an angel like her.." He said, eyes still trained on hers as he pushed a bit more, feeling and hearing her struggle, before moving away from her, snapping the knife he'd in his other hand shut to put it back inside his pocket as he opened the drawers, searching for fresh sheets. "I advise you to not ever touch me again if you want to keep your skin intact. It's nauseating enough that I have to share the same roof with someone like you tonight." He said, as he finally found what he was looking for, not caring as she swallowed hard, leaving the room and him alone, but not before running into you.

"Oh, sorry, I.. Uh, Jungkookie?" You asked, peeking into the room as his entire demeanor made a full 180 in front of your mothers eyes, body language suddenly speaking a different dialect it seemed, as he smiled, walking up to you, and leading you inside the room, closing the door with a last warning look thrown at her.

"Please angel.." He hummed against your skin, as you shyly touched his skin, making him sigh in bliss. He'd showered after his encounter with your witch of a mother, yet he couldn't help but not feel clean enough- he needed your touch, your salvation, to finally feel good again, to exorcise the demonic memories of her gut wrenching hands on his back, or her obscene words towards him. He needed your purity to cleanse him again, to give him back his wings you'd granted him.

"They won't hear." He promised, but in reality he wanted them to, craving deep down inside his being to drench the walls in your heavenly sounds, to clean this room of her presence with the help of the pleasure he was giving you. He felt you give into him with ease, smile warm and happy as his fingers entered you, knowing that he could not nestle himself inside you without sacrificing safety. And getting you pregnant was far from his mind.

No, the only thing ever being inside you would be him, and no one else.

You breathed out in sweet euphoria as he worked you with his hand, before dipping down, taking the covers with him as his tongue got in contact with your pearl, mouth feasting on you like a starving man enjoying his first meal, humming in pleasure as your hand found its way into his hair, gently tugging, never hurting.

He highly doubted you could ever hurt a fly.

And you'd never have to, with Jungkook at your side ready to soak his hands in the blood of anyone you wanted to have killed in cold murder, all of it with a smile on his face. He was ready to flood the streets in his own guts just to make more room for your praise and affection inside of him, he'd do it all for you in a time shorter than his heart could ever beat.

Your sighs turned into mewls.

He pushed your legs apart gently, hands reminiscing in the feel of your skin underneath his palms as he put even more effort into his actions, making you squirm in pleasure as your back arched like a feline stretching itself after a well deserved rest as you came undone with his touch, mouth finally parting from you, crawling upwards to your face as he kissed you, uncaring of your own residue on his lips.

You loved him.

He suddenly let out a short moan as he felt your delicate hands touch his bulge, eyes questioning as you silently asked for his permission.

Who was he to deny you anything?

As you pulled him out of his underwear he sighed at the view, your entire body showing off how lost you were with the task you'd taken on, making him smile as he began to help you, placing your hands around him in a proper way and showing you how to please him.

You learned quick.

Slowly growing more confident, you started to grip him with a bit more confidence, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you suddenly dipped down, making his eyes as wide as the moon before he huffed out a breath, head falling back as he could only stare at the white ceiling when your tongue touched his tip. Your soft lips took him in, inviting him inside the warmth of your mouth as you gently sucked before releasing him again, using your saliva and his own precum as lubrication for easier motions.

He was in heaven.

Of course he'd though about it, yet it seemed almost embarrassing how he fell apart so quickly under your touch, cum suddenly spurting out as he came violently, not prepared to last under such circumstances. He caught his breath, smiling apologetically as he stood up on slightly unsteady legs, reaching for some tissues inside his backpack near the bed before crawling back to you, cleaning up your face and neck with the outmost care as you suddenly spoke. "So, was that.. good?" You asked, and he scoffed, kissing you deeply before he rested his forehead against yours.

"Angel, you just sent me to heaven." He said, making you giggle as he made you lie down, cleaning between your thighs as to not make too much of a mess of the sheets.

His cum stained tissues however, he'd leave as a present for the witch to find.

If she was to wake again, that is.

"I'm so sorry, she isn't feeling well-" Your father apologized, yet Jungkook simply waved him off with a sympathizing smile. You nodded next to him, agreeing with Jungkook that this was simply a bad day for her. Everyone got sick once in a while. "I hope you have a safe trip home, and thank you for the wine Jungkook, you really have taste." He said, pale skin showing to him that he'd seemingly been affected as well. "We'll stay in touch." He told Jungkook, hugging him in a friendly manner as a form of goodbye.

He was collateral damage.

He actually liked the man a bit, noticing how calm and collected he was, even though he had to share his life with a woman such as your mother. He admired him really, for spending his time with her every day, for simply coexisting with her, without feeling the need to end his own life.

But maybe this man had exactly those thoughts he wondered, as he though about the wine bottle inside his car, evidence he'd taken with him to discard of in safe distance.

And as you both waved one last time, driving off, Jungkook only had one sentence running around inside his head as he thought of the witch that was your mother.

"This time, please just stay dead."

“I don’t have much space-“ he said, sitting on the engine hood of his car, patting his thighs as an invitation for you. “But it’s gonna be okay. I like having you close anyways.” He mused, voice low and drawled as if exhausted. You sat on his lap, legs hanging off on one side, head leaning on his chest, craving his warmth like a newborn kitten. He snaked his arms around your form, bathing in your presence in pure feelings of bliss as you sighed. He looked down on you, hand running over the top of your head. “What is it angel?” He said, worry a present undertone in his voice. You played with the buttons of his coat as he watched the sun set in front of you both, twilight slowly setting in.

“They.. won’t take me away from you, right?” You asked timidly, unknowing why this option scared you so much. Those were your parents; you shouldn’t be scared of them, should you? Yet Jungkook had told you to be wary of them, and you knew he was to be trusted- when has he ever been wrong? He only wanted your best, just like he said; he only wanted you safe and protected, and it made you feel oh so special. The pure option that you could be forced to live without him now seemed utterly terrifying, like a phobia you didn’t know you had.

“No, no angel.” He said, smile ever so present as if he’d just been gifted the thing he’d always wanted. You seemed so upset with the mere possibility of being away from him, it showed him that you had finally accepted him fully; you finally were his and his alone. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me.” He growled possessively, eyes growing cold as you leaned even closer to him, making him take a deep breath in fondness. “I’d rather die.” He whispered, and your head shot up, delicate hands on his chest, and an absolutely divine and desperate look on your face.

“Then I’ll die with you! You can’t leave me behind-“ you said, wide eyes looking at him in pure horror of the simple mention of his death, and he chuckled, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear with gentle hands, as he answered you lowly.

“Don’t worry angel-“ he said, his hand resting on your cheek, eyes watching you like a piece of art. “I’ll take you with me wherever I go.” He said, leaning in for a kiss you eagerly accepted, uncaring of how his hands gripped your waist tightly. Dangerously. And you were just as uncaring of his next words that left his lips between heated kisses.

“Even if I’d have to kill you myself.” he mumbled into you as you smiled.

You felt like Romeo and Juliet.

Or bonny and clyde for that matter.

The news should've hit you hard, yet it only left you with questions. You by now had your suspicions on what had happened, yet instead of igniting fear, it only left you with more things to wonder about. Why would he do these things?

Was he this scared to loose you that he even killed in his desperation to keep you close?

Would you one day be his victim as well?

"Angel?" He asked, standing behind you as his eyes scanned your form, noticing how you'd stopped packing your stuff, simply sitting in your old bedroom, on the floor, on your knees, in the middle of the room. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Well.. were you?

And if you were-

For how long?

Taglist:

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts yandere #bts yandere au #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts

[joontier]

mercedes midnight runs | drabble 

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick 

between the lines navi. |  navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere. 

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate. 

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space. 

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?” 

“Yeah, you like it?” 

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried. 

“Kook...what if someone sees?” 

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts. 

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?”  Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?” 

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….” 

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse. 

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook. 

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle. 

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.” 

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features. 

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you. 

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?” 

“Mhmmhm” 

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny. 

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy. 

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be. 

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more. 

“What’s going on then?” 

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.” 

“What’s wrong then?” 

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly  darken, now all too aware of your state. 

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.” 

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration. 

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards. 

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game. 

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either. 

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?” 

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt. 

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight. 

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected. 

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?” 

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.” 

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it. 

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.” 

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency. 

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily. 

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after. 

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone. 

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head. 

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back. 

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in. 

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly. 

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits. 

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap. 

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse  of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard. 

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung. 

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself. 

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

#bts smut #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #btsghostie #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts drabbles

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

More than a memory

Sorry if this is formatted really horriblly I finished this up on mobile I hope you like this there’s about 2 paragraphs I cut of ruby nerding out

Once they got to Vacuo oscar was sorta unofficially a huntsman now laws are a lot looser here so he’s been saving quite a bit of money from going on missions after team rwby and Jaune came back it was weird they were only gone a month but so much had changed the merge was almost finished he could feel it every day he felt less like himself he didn’t even object when Theodore called him oz anymore he and ruby weren’t as close anymore whatever happened wherever they were changed her he got bits and pieces from Jaune and yang but the others kept quiet he knew that he’d be gone soon so he wanted to leave something for her kinda like proof that they ever met in the first place so he was now standing in a vacuan market at 12 am alone with a lot of lien on him this was probably a bad idea but at one point he heard ruby ramble about this gun shop that they were the best at what they do so he called made an appointment it just so happens they prefer to see let’s just say unofficial clients at night he knocked at the door it read “bikal bullets” it opened and an old owl faunas man opens it his large yellow eyes are piercing “hello mister pine headmaster theodore told me to expect you” oscar rubs his hands together “yes mister bikal he said to come late” mr Bikal leads him inside on the walls hang dozens of expensive weapons “so mr pine what are you looking for” oscar took the blue prints out of his bag and set them down on the drawing table “um im looking for something custom built its for a friend” mr bikal takes the blue prints and examines them “these are pretty impressive mr pine did you draft these yourself theses yourself” oscar nods “mostly i had a little help with the math part of it but the mechanical stuff i did myself” mr bikal nods “something like this will cost a good amount even with the discount you get for being school staff” oscar nods “do you have an estimate on the price and how long it'll take to make” mr bikal snaps his teeth “around 12000 lien and 2 weeks” oscar nods he had 140000 saved up but he did want to buy some more things for the others “alright i can uh i can afford that” mr bikal goes over to what looks like a drawing table and pins them up “i will start work immediately mr pine you make your payment on completion if you desire the school has credit with me the price includes 3 magazines and a case so that will also be custom made shall you pick it up or would you prefer its delivered” oscar stands uncomfortably as mr bikal starts measuring out pieces of fine metal “ill pick it up dont worry” mr bikal nods and says “alright mister pine your can go now its not a good look for a young man to be out so late especially so close to the red light district” oscars face gets red “yes of course” oscar leaves and walks back to the academy sneaking back into his dorm room was easy tho nora did pester him about where hed been he had left a note saying when he would be back for the next 2 weeks he kept a poker face nora helped him set up his bank account so the sudden spending of 12000 lien did give her pause so she decided to ask him about it

He was sitting on his bed reading some Treatise about some long-forgotten subject she knocked on the bedpost and he looks up “hey Nora did you need something” she sat at the end of his bed “hey what did you spend 12 thousand lien on” he hides his face “please don’t tell anyone it was on something for ruby” she smiles “ah young love I was worried that you wouldn’t make your move so what kind of thing sets you back 12 thousand it’s something big right” he nods his head “its a gun i-i had it commissioned for and it’s not really cause I’m trying to make a move or anything it’s more like a going away gift” Nora frowns and shakes his leg “where you going taking a vacation or something” he feels tears bite the edge of his eyes “Nora the merge it’s soon I know it won’t be long until I’m gone and I want you all to remember me but her especially I don’t want to be just a memory” he struggles to keep the tears at bay but nora pulls him into a hug tighter but somehow softer than her usual ones “hey you will never ever be just a memory you will always be you and even if your not you'll always be one of us we all love you so much” and then the damn breaks and he sobs into her shoulder “i don't wanna go away nora i want to live i wanna go to school see my aunt again” she rubs his back and says “i know sweetie you'll get to do all that ok i promise” he sniffles “nora i need you to do something for me if i do disappear ok i need you to go back to my aunt and tell her everything ok it can't be oz ok don't tell her how to find him it won't make sense i'll just hurt worse i dont want that for her” she nods “i won't ever have to do that ok but i promise” she holds him until he stops crying and they take a a a nap they always helped him calm down

Finally, after a long 2 weeks, he goes to pick it up when he goes inside Mr. Baikal shows him the box it’s a beautiful dark red mahogany wood he opens the case and looks at the pistol inside its silvered handle and barrel were beautiful he’s almost afraid to touch it the engravings were perfect exactly as he had drawn them if not better the moon and rose he had designed look perfect he takes it gently in his hands he looks down the sights the night sights glow a brilliant carmine red he looks at the magazine even it was of an amazing quality everything down to the smallest detail was exactly as he pictured it he sets it back into the case “thank you, mister, Bikal it's absolutely perfect” Mr. Bikal smiles and nods “I’m glad everything is to your satisfaction Mr pine if you find there is anything wrong with it or you want something changed everything I make comes with a lifetime warranty the paperwork is in the case as well as a certificate stating that I am in fact its builder” they shake hands and oscar takes it home in his bag he excitedly gets back to his dorm he sets it down still in his bag on his bed now all he have to do is give it to her

He sits on it for a few days but finally decides to just give it to her oz has his reservations about this but decided that oscar deserves this to maybe say goodbye in his own way

Ruby was going on walks around shade it’s something he noticed so he waited for her to go on one of those walks it was cool in vacuo at night the air was nice compared to the oppressive heat of the day she was meandering along the walkways he followed behind her a bit the case hung heavy in his bag even tho it wasn’t heavy at all after a while she sits at an old wooden bench overlooking the gardens he approaches and she perks up “oh hey oscar are you going somewhere” she says pointing to his bag he shakes his head “do you mind if I sit” she shakes her head “no go-ahead did you need to talk, something about Theodore?” he sits down on the other side of the bench gently setting his bag between them “no uh no I just uh I wanted to give you something” he opens his bag and takes the case out holding it out to her she takes it “it’s not my birthday is it this looks really nice you didn't have to do this” ruby says smiling “well i've been wanting to do something nice for you” oscar says rubbing the back of his neck she lifts the top and gasp gently lifting it from its case “oscar this is this is amazing” she drops the magazine and pulls the slide back making sure its clear and runs her hand along the engraving her symbol etched into the left side of the grip “oh thanks i uh actually designed it myself oz helped me with the math” she looks at him her eyes wide “oscar it took me 8 attempts to successfully design a functioning crescent rose gun design is really hard how long did you spend on this” oscar blushes “the idea kinda started in atlas i was gonna ask you to help me make one so i wouldn't have to rely on my cane but everything happen and when you were gone i kept messing with the idea and i kept thinking about you so i kinda ended up designing it for you more than me eventually do you like it” ruby scoffs “oscar do i like it i love it its probably the single greatest gift anyones ever given me” he smiles wide “really that makes me really happy I was worried you wouldn’t like it” she sets it back gently into its case “really Oscar it’s amazing you have a knack for design your gonna have to show me the draft notes and everything cause this is this is amazing I can’t wait to shoot it this is wow” she chokes up and he leans down “ruby are you ok” she nods wiping her face of nonexistent tears “no worries this is just really cool and sweet and god your so amazing” he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks heat up “the guy who built it that bikal guy you talked about was just as great as you always said” she puts a hand on his shoulder “are you telling me Hephaestus bikal made this Oscar” she says seriously “uh yeah why is that bad” she kisses his cheek and squeals “oh my god your amazing this is now even better god I could die happy wait his rates are insane how did you afford this” still recoiling from the kiss he bites his lip “uh huntsmen work” she narrows her eyes “how much did this cost Oscar it had to be expensive” he shakes his head “not telling it’s a gift you don’t need to worry about it just enjoy it” she punches his arm “I will but I am going to repay you for this somehow ok” “you already did” he says quietly he says rubbing the back of his neck “ruby I don’t really know how long I have left and I would like to spend at least some of it with you I understand if you don’t I know it might make it harder when I’m gone bu-whoa” he’s pulled into a hug she pulls his head into her shoulder and holds him tight “I wanna spend more time with you too but you will always be Oscar ok oz is oz you are you” he sighs and smiles “see what I mean by paying me back”

#rwby #rose garden #rosegarden #ruby rose #guns #Oscar pine #angst #this is sadder than I wanted it to be #at first this was gonna be sorta related to my weed garden fic #but the idea of ruby pushing Oscar away after that was too sad #for my fluffy little ass #I wish ruby got to nerd out about weapons more #Oscar is still a simp even if he’s sad #do not ask me about the gun I will elaborate #that is a threat

[eremiie]

why do you like gabi? ive been surrounded by people who absolutely despise her but im curious ab the other opinions (i can kinda see it both ways)

aot season 4 anime spoilers (episode 8)

LETS GET TO TALKING (i love when you guys ask me questions like these, especially regarding the aot verse— when you wanna know my opinions on shit, i love it)

okay so i used to not like gabi, like at all. like that little girl was a menace, and it wasn’t even because she killed sasha, it was because her personality. she was cocky and arrogant and had a big mouth and she was just so annoying. adding onto that— her killing sasha was just even worse... it was like “damn, you are really unlikable???”

so what made me change my mind about her?

first i remember when she first killed sasha, i was like something’s not right about this, it seemed to me like sasha was just killed for the plot. it seemed like sasha was just an obstacle for gabi’s character development, and i still think that to this day— her death was rushed in my opinion, and i couldn’t catch that rush of emotion (maybe bc i was spoiled) reading it or watching it. 

but even as these episodes progressed it’s clearly very obvious that gabi is brainwashed. you see the disposition between falco and gabi, and frankly; isayama couldn’t have made it anymore obvious. 

gabi literally walks around saying shit like 

“these island devils!1!!11!!!” as she sits at a dinner table with the same ‘devils’ that took her in.

like i don’t know how it’s not obvious to some people that she’s brainwashed especially when she’s sitting right next to someone like falco.

at a young age they were all taught that paradis was full of island devils that fucked marley over, and as an eldian she wants to prove herself, thats the satisfaction that she gets and wants and thats the satisfaction that she has this constant need to obtain. 

and on top of this when she watches people like the infamous eren jaeger kill both of her closest friends, almost kill porco, pieck, reiner, and shit on her whole town, this anger in her only flares up— she gets a good reason to hate the people of paradis, because they’re only showing her what she was taught.

so when she did get in that airship and kill sasha, guess what? she didn’t even see sasha’s face, sasha was turned around, she just aimed aimlessly— and gabi never misses, so she just happened to shoot sasha. that could’ve been anybody. she was trying to do something for her people, trying to get her revenge, she wasn’t out to get sasha specifically. +++ i don’t blame her for killing sash. put yourself in her shoes.

manga spoilers below

gabi gets her development as well. the brainwashing gets undone, she gets her redemption arc, she saves kaya, she sides with the alliance, she gets on her knees and begs jean for help, she sees that the island devils aren’t island devils and that they all currently have one common enemy.

and when she does get this development you see how much of an amazing character she is— she reminds me so much of s1-3 eren, the determination, the way she redeems herself and the way she’s so passionate about everything she does and does it with a purpose. she’s just a little girl and i understand her just as much as i understand any other character. 

manga spoilers end

the gabi slander is what makes me like her even more, the way her character bothers people who have half a brain is something else— people saying shit like they want her to get raped, they hope she dies, shit like that is just like what the fuck???? is this drawing bothering you that much that you feel the need to say something like that? that you feel the need to write a song about how much you hate her?

that in itself just shows how well isayama wrote her character. in my eyes she was made to be disliked at first, you were made to watch her develop and grow, but not everyone is able to see that because they look past shit like that.

most people who do understand attack on titan understand that in the show there are no good or bad people, everyone happens to be a person doing bad things. (like if you’re gonna shit on eren for killing all those marleyans, please shit on reiner for killing all those people on paradis + our milf carla, and shit on armin for killing all those marleyans too— cause his body count is right beside eren’s atp) i understand everyone from eren to gabi to even floch, who i slander the fuck out of because i don’t like him but i understand him and he’s a greatly written character. i understand the marleyans, the eldians, the alliance, the people of paradis, i understand eren, i understand zeke, and shit i dont know what that little girl got going on but i understand miss ymir fritz too.

but that being said, that is why i like my son gabi<3.

#charm at night #i love my son #she’s so greatly written like wtf #and how do anime onlys not see how she’s brainwashed?? #hopefully they’ll like her when she has her come up

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.14 "Honeymoon"

CW: injury mention/description, unconscious whumpee, bondage, panic attack mention, memory loss, teeth pulling mention (brief, vague), drugs/alcohol, creepy/intimate whumper, death mention, gun mention (brief), abduction, car setting, airport setting, security guards, plane setting, plane crash discussion, tics/tourettes (pretty explicit), August needs his own warning (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias felt heavy when he woke up, like his head was full of sand. He couldn't open his eyes for a moment, just heard distant, almost panicked voices. After a few seconds, he was hit with an onslaught of pain so bad that his ears were ringing and he could feel his throat closing up. After he adjusted to it (it never faded when it was this bad, he just was able to feel around it, live with it), he realized his hands were tied behind him and he was propped up on a chair. A groan slipped past his lips as he lifted his head up, trying with every last bit of energy to open his eyes.

"Ah, there he is," he heard someone say, "good morning, sweetheart."

"Don't fucking touch him!" That was Tyson, Elias recognized his horrified voice instantly. Why was he so upset? Who else was here? Why the hell couldn't he open his eyes?

"Come on, bunny, wake up." Now when the voice spoke it was accompanied by a hand on his cheek, and he whined at the soreness that lit up there when it was touched. He couldn't remember anything happening, He remembered, through the hazy memory of a panic attack, Tyson telling him that Allen and Leo were there, and then he left the room. Elias waited in the bedroom, standing numbly in front of the closet on shaking legs, trying to gather his thoughts as he pulled on a shirt. But then what?

He finally forced his eyes open, squinting up at the blurry figure in front of him. It took him a few seconds to focus, but when he did his entire chest lit up in a dull panic and he tried to snap his head away from his gentle fingertips against his skin. August only laughed. "Careful, don't hurt yourself."

Elias looked past August, and Tyson was tied up in one of the other kitchen chairs, looking just as beat up as Elias felt. "Oh god," he whimpered, dropping his head down in despair, "oh god!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Didn't you miss me?" August knelt in front of him, taking his face in his hands and smiling. "God, I haven't been able to get you off my mind."

"Please," Elias sobbed, "please stop, August. Please."

At those words, Augusts face softened, and he looked human, almost sad. Elias always felt uneasy when he did that, it was so hard to tell if the sudden affection and compassion was real or if he just wanted Elias to think he liked him. And Elias was stupid, because every time it made him confused and doubtful because how the hell could the person who had gotten so high once he tried to pull out Elias's teeth suddenly have emotions? Where did he hide them away, when he was torturing Elias like it was his purpose? August ran his thumb across Elias's face, wiping his tears away. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. That last day I...I never meant to go that far. I didn't mean to hurt you so bad. And I am so unbelievably sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"You killed me!" He shot back. As soon as the sentence echoed back to him and he realized how he'd yelled, he snapped his mouth shut and braced himself as much as he could. He was surprised when August didn't hit him or get angry, only nodded sadly.

"I know. I'm so sorry, angel-"

"Get away from him you fucking asshole!" Tyson shouted again. August took a deep, aggravated breath before he stood straight, slowly making his way across the kitchen to Tyson. Tyson sat straighter as he approached, as straight and tall as he could with the ropes securing him to the chair. He tried to look brave, but he had seen the videos and the pictures, he had seen the aftermath of August's violence on both Elias and Allen, he knew the damage this monster could cause.

Elias watched on in horror as August swung, nearly knocking the chair over with how hard he hit Tyson.

"August!" He shrieked, pulling hard at the ropes around his wrists. "August stop hurting him!"

August tipped his head back, groaning in exasperation. Elias looked at Tyson, who was caved in on himself, trying to steady is ragged breathing. Elias couldn't help but think that it was all his fault, that if he had just stayed dead Tyson would not be hurting and in danger right now.

"Eli," August said, turning back to him. Elias flinched, looking up at him with wide, tearful eyes. "I can't stand being away from you, angel. It's tearing me apart."

"I don't...August, I c-cant..." He dropped his head down as a sob tore through him, squeezing his eyes shut. He gasped when August grabbed his shoulders hard, leaned away from him as much as he could. "P-please, August. Please stop this."

"I have to leave here, I'm going out of country until things settle down." He grabbed Elias's face, forcing him to look up at him. Elias finally opened his eyes as August smiled that warm, almost welcoming smile that always dropped Elias into a confused spiral. "I want you to come with me. I can make you so happy, Eli. We can be together all the time and be so happy. Remember how great it is to be together? Remember-"

"Don't listen to him Elias," Tyson pleaded, "he's lying to you, don't listen to him."

Elias sobbed when August started to pull away from him, knowing he was going to hurt Tyson again. "August, d-dont! Please don't!"

"Elias you need me!" August insisted. His voice had an edge of desperation, like he really was torn up about being away from Elias. "I know that you need me, you're doing horribly without me. I can see that and I know you can see that. Come with me."

"I can't. You...you're gonna hurt me and I can't...I can't deal with anymore pain."

August shook his head to himself, a look on his face that said 'you give me no other choice', then slowly pulled a handgun out of his waist band. "Suit yourself, then." He huffed, lifting the gun toward Tyson.

"No! No August stop wait!" Elias screamed, fighting hard against the rope, absolute panic coating every word he cried. "I'll go with you! Don't hurt him, please!"

August froze, then slowly lowered the gun. Elias felt a helpless sob tear through him and August sighed. "I knew you'd come to your senses," he tucked the gun away and stepped towards him to undo the rope around his wrists, "that's my good boy."

Elias stood on trembling legs when he was able to, clutching at August's shirt so he wouldn't fall. August looped his arm around him to help him stand, or just to touch him, it really could be either. The disgusting familiarity of the way August touched him made him want to cry.

"Don't do this, Elias!" Tyson cried, thrashing in the chair to try and free himself. He was losing Elias again, he was helpless and Elias was going to be hurt again and he couldn't do anything. It was agonizing to watch him limp toward the front door all wrapped up in August, leaning heavily against him. "Don't you fucking leave me!"

"I'm s-so sorry Tyson," he gasped, "I'm so fucking s-sorry."

Before either of them could say anything else, August pulled him out of the apartment and into a van. The second they were sitting down, Elias collapsed in on himself and began sobbing harder, his lungs heaving. August pulled him into his chest, holding him close.

"It's ok, bunny," he soothed him, "just breathe. You're alright."

It took him a long time to calm himself down, especially because every time he heard August's voice it sent him panicking again, but after awhile he pushed himself away from August and wrapped his arms around himself, looking out the window at the passing traffic.

"What happened to your face?" August asked, trailing his knuckles over his cheek gently. Elias tensed up, closing his eyes.

"It doesn't matter." He muttered. He wondered why August was asking that, didn't he send that man to the party himself, to hurt Elias? He probably just wanted to hear him admit to it, to describe what happened in detail. Elias bet that August would probably like that, the sick fuck, and so he didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened."

With a huff, Elias retold the story, told him he knew that August had sent him, that it was painful, that he bled, all the grimy little things he knew August wanted to hear. By the end of it, he was shocked to see August looking rather displeased. He was silent, and it made Elias's skin crawl just as it always did, but then he sighed and forced a small smile onto his face.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he said, as if Elias had never said anything at all, "everything feels...right again." He glanced down at Elias, smiling wider at him. "Did you miss me?" He asked.

Elias looked up at him, a frown on his face. August didn't look any different than before, he was still handsome and clean shaven and unforgiving. His dark hair was slicked back out of his face, his dark blue eyes eerily flat, the smile he put on didn't quite reach them. In a way, Elias was glad he was seeing his face, that he didn't have to linger on the last memory of being choked to death anymore. "Yeah," he rasped out, "yeah, I did."

August smiled widely at him, it looked so genuine for a second that Elias felt a tiny inkling of relief. He was still rigid when August kissed him, but he leaned toward him obediently. It felt so familiar, his strong hand holding his face steady and his tongue slipping through his lips. "God, Eli, you have no idea how badly I missed you. It absolutely ruined me, what I did to you."

"I wanted you to," Elias admitted, "I was pissing you off on purpose so you'd kill me."

August chuckled, shaking his head. "Still, I shouldn't have taken it that far. I'm so happy you're still here."

Elias was surprised when they got to an airport, August definitely had balls, he had to give him that. He didn't know how he kept getting away with any of it, with getting out of jail and making it to other places with no issue. Even as they walked through security, he seemed relaxed and unbothered. Elias was more nervous than him, and he wasn't even the one in trouble. Even the security must've noticed his anxiety, because at one point one of them squared up to him, looking him up and down.

"How are you doing this morning?" One of them asked. She was short and stout, her voice firm yet sweet. Elias glanced over at August, who was seemingly making jokes with another security guard a few feet ahead of him.

"I've never been on a plane before," Elias mumbled, "I'm a little nervous."

She smiled warmly at him, watching in curiosity as he kept checking to see what August was doing, where he was. "Well you look like you're nervous about more than flying," she observed, "if you have anything to share with me I could take you to customs. It's more private."

Elias tensed, thinking for a moment about the offer. This could all be over if he just told her what was happening, she could call someone and August would go back to jail. But even then he wasn't sure it would end there, August had proven time and time again that jail wasn't going to stop him, and he didn't want Tyson to really get hurt. It was easier this way, to just go quietly and let August do what he wanted to him, at least then he would take all the pain instead of the people he cared about.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." He smiled weakly at her, then turned to see August watching them carefully. He thanked her again, then walked over to meet him.

"I hope you're not getting cold feet," he joked, "don't want things to get messy, do we?"

Elias shook his head quickly and leaned against him. "No, I want this."

August smiled at him, reaching out to pet his hair. "Thats good, bunny."

Once they were on the plane, Elias was even more nervous. His whole life he had been too broke to go anywhere, and he honestly didn't think he'd ever get the chance to go on a plane. And now that he was, he was with the worst possible person.

"What's wrong baby?" August whispered. He reached out and placed a hand over his leg. Elias looked at him, face twisted into a frown, and shrugged.

"Ive never been on a plane. I'm nervous." He frowned more when August chuckled softly and grabbed his hand.

"You'll be ok. I've got you." He sighed when Elias leaned his head against his shoulder, running his thumb over his hand. "You have no idea how terribly I missed you Eli. I missed holding you, I missed having you in my arms." Now he was whispering, his lips in Elias's hair as he spoke.

"You know, you did a really good job at making me repulsive. Tyson couldn't even look at me shirtless."

"You're not repulsive, little one. Not at all." He kissed his forehead gently as he spoke, brushing his hair back. "You are a work of art. Some people just don't know how to appreciate that."

Elias shook his head. "You're the only one that thinks that."

"I'm the only one that needs to think that." Now he grabbed at his hair, forcing him to tip his head back and look up at him. Elias usually would mind the aggressive contact that much, but with the engines blaring around him and already tight knot of anxiety in his chest, it only made his heart sink in his chest.

"August, please," he whimpered, before August could open his mouth to say anything, "please I'm so nervous already please don't grab me that way." He was surprised as August instantly loosened his grip, grabbing his face gently instead.

"So pretty when you beg like that," he hummed, "I missed hearing my name come out of your mouth."

Elias ignored the comment, instead dropping his head against his chest and closing his eyes.

He tried to sleep for the most part, but everytime he drifted off he was reminded of where he was and who he was with, and he woke up again with a new bout of anxiety. At one point he sat up and August was sleeping, and for a few moments he debated flagging down a flight attendant to help him. It wasn't worth it. Nothing was, at this point. Instead, he turned toward the window, peering down at the blue ocean under them. They were so high up, and so far away from anything. From Tyson.

At that, he started crying softly, covering his face to try and quiet his sniffles. It was so god damn hopeless now, he was going god knows where with the closest thing to evil he'd ever experienced, nothing mattered anymore, life might as well be over.

"What's wrong, angel?" August said, grabbing his shoulders gently. Elias let one muted, broken sob out, then curled into himself to try and stop any more. "Elias, what is it?"

"I'm so s-scared," he whimpered, "I'm terrified."

"We're ok, baby. We'll be there soon, we're perfectly safe." As he spoke, he stroked Elias carefully, trying to calm him down. When Elias shook his head, he realized what he meant: Elias was afraid of him. Not of being in the air, not of the plane crashing, but of being stuck with August. He sighed and pulled him closer, until his forehead was pressed against his shoulder. "I'm gonna be more careful with you, bunny. I know I was really rough with you before, I know better now. You've got nothing to be afraid of. I taught you so well, you can handle a little pain, I know you can."

Elias was silent, and August was suddenly furious with him. He'd spent all this money, not his own of course, and time and effort just to get him and take him some place nice, and now he wasn't speaking to him? And here August was, trying to comfort him. As if he was worth the wadted energy. His hands grew tighter, and just as quickly as he began to console him, his voice became a threatening whisper. "Where do you get off on being afraid, anyways? You said it yourself, I'm the only one who wants you. You don't get to be scared, I'm going to do what I want to you and you're going to shut the fuck up about it. Understand?"

Elias bit back another sob and nodded quickly, waiting for August to let go of him. When he didn't, he just closed his eyes tighter and tried to calm himself. He counted to ten, but he still felt like screaming, so he counted to twenty. Then thirty. Once he was up in the 50s, he began to tic. He jerked against August, whining softly as he did. This was the worst possible time and place for an attack, everyone would look at him, August would be annoyed and ashamed, he had no where to go and hide while he waited it out. He was trapped, and that only made everything worse.

"Son of a fuck!" He gasped, trying, and failing, thanks to his hands that just never wanted to be still enough to be useful, to cover his mouth to quiet himself. Tears were still spilling down his cheeks, his whole body was shaking with the effort of holding back more profanities or punching the chair in front of him as hard as he could, like he knew he would if he wasn't biting it back with everything he had. People had already begun to swivel around and stare at him. He wished he could disappear.

"Eli, calm down," August warned him quietly, "don't shout like that."

"I'm so- bitch!- I'm sorry." He was crying harder now, embarrassed and scared beyond belief. He wanted to break the window and fall to his death, just to be away from all the stares. He ticced again, ramming the heel of his hand against his skull hard, and whined at the pain. "God damn it!"

August must've realized what was happening then, because he wrapped his arms tight around Elias to hold him still, rocking him a bit. Most of the time, August didn't seem to give a shit when Elias was like this. Sure, when his friends came over and they all laughed and amused themselves with it, August would join in. Sometimes he would try to make it worse, try to make Elias as embarrassed and flustered and anxious as he could just so they could all laugh at him when he couldn't help the awful things he was shouting or the strange sounds that he didn't know he could even make or the ridiculous movements of his body that looked idiotic, August told him a few times. Other than those times, he didn't seem to notice or care about them. Only a few times, when it was painfully obvious that Elias was hurting because of it, had August ever comforted him through it. And thank God today was one of those times, Elias thought, as he qstarted saying, "You're ok, Eli. It's all ok."

Elias sobbed, grabbing at August's arm desperately, trying to gain a little stability. He ticced for a few more long, painful minutes, and then grew exhausted against August and his tics turned from violent outbursts to small twitches in his hands and neck. August loosened his grip gradually, then pulled away completely to look at him. He wiped his tears away gently as he inspected him.

"You alright?"

He only nodded in response, then pulled his knees up to his chest to hide his face. People were whispering around them, he knew they were talking about him. He wished they could just get to wherever the hell they were going, get this shit show over and done with in one way or another. Elias couldn't help but wonder if it would end the same as last time, with hands around his throat and edges of his vision dark and such a distant pain Elias wasn't even sure if it was considered his own. He wondered if August was telling the truth and really was going to be more careful and try not to hurt him. He wondered what Tyson was doing right then; he was hoping that he was getting him help and dreading that Tyson was maybe celebrating the fact that Elias was gone again. It took everything he had and more to convince himself that Tyson wouldn't do that, that Tyson loved him (for whatever reason) and wouldn't stop until he was home safe (again, Elias still really couldn't figure out why). After he was able to cling onto that tiny sliver of hope, that Tyson would at least try, he was proud of himself. He kept repeating it to himself in his head : "Tyson will try to find me, Tyson will try to find me" as they flew hundreds of miles further from home by the minute.

The plane began to descend.

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[taeyungie]

honey nooo🥺 i wish i was there with u so i could listen to you.. i love listening about diff things!! i really dont wanna say anyth to make you sadder so im not sure how to go abt this, but honey youre so so so fucking precious.. i mean it literally hurts to see u down, actually hurts :( youve always been so kind to me, and just so kind in general and i cant believe people have the fkn audacity to even act that mean. please, please do not believe in those things and i know its easier said that done but i genuinely want you to just believe in goodness. there are dark times and you just feel like youre going thru a long phase of slump (bc honestly everytime u share yo probs i relate sm w it but anyways) but i promise you its just trying times. in time like these i always motivate myself to think abt the pain yoongi endured, and now look at him, receiving love from angels like us njbdhbf (sorry bad joke) but i just- please dont shut a part of yourself because of someone else. that will just give them satisfaction. instead, be an absolute brat and do not care abt what they say. share smth, say smth, do whatever the fck u want.. they laugh? dont give a fck. they criticize u? honey they dont hold that position. and this is what my sis once said, and i genuinely dwell on it, "u can be whatever you want in life". then do it. love yourself em, and i promise you everything will get better. you are MEANT to be happy. you DESERVE to be happy. live just the way you are!!💖💖sending you sooooo much love and strength. POWER!!

i swear, your messages always make me tear up, but in a good way 😔❤️ it's okay, I'll be okay. there's still a long journey ahead of me and there's so many things i have to learn and go through, i'm doing well so far and even though sometimes there are days like this I'll just learn from them and one day it might change <3 I'm trying my best to keep positive, i really do, it's just that reality is crushing sometimes, but that's just life isn't it? hopefully there's a future for me where i won't care about those things anymore, and i don't ever wish for that to happen to anyone. it'll be okay <3 thank you so much for your message, it means the world to me, and i promise you that i will try my best to make it work <3 I'm sending you just as much love honey, please take care of your precious self ❤️❤️❤️

#big thank you to everyone for all messages and i'm sorry for the spam sjsnsjjs i will leave that topic alone for today <3 #answered

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

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

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

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

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

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

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

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

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

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

And then the couple moved in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, yeah, because it is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just want to feel the rain again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Am nice. I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's the little things.

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

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

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

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

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

That's where you leave to?

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

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

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

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

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

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

A while. Years. I think .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It rattles a little and you look away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not this time.

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

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

It's invigorating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren't sure you want to know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know if you want him to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Warm me up?” 

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

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

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

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

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

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

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

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

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

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

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

Because I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?!” You demand. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But that was-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#namjoon fanfiction #rm fanfiction #bts fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #rm smut #reader insert #rm angst #rm x reader #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #bts fanfic #love yourself collab #ghost reader #clumsy namjoon #unspecified gender reader #bts angst #major character death #fic: forever rain #ddaenggtan

[captain-jinguji]

I’m sorry if you suddenly get a hoard of notifs of me liking a bunch of posts from you, I’ve been trying to catch up haha 😅 If it’s alright, could I ask how Heavens would make up with their s/o after a fight? I apologize if you’ve already done this before!

I dedicated ALL my time to my obey me blog yesterday so now its time for me to dedicate all my time here ❤❤❤

HEAVENS making up with their s/o after a fight

Yamato:

He wouldn't even give you the satisfaction of leaving after the fight. The minute you turn to walk away is the minute he pulled you back into him, your back against his chest as you struggled to break free, "no. Stop. Listen, I dont mean to fight with you. You're agitating at times, and you know I have a temper.." You scoffed, what a measly apology, "but you're my rock and without you my temper would be much worse. Please don't leave just because of a stupid fight. We're worth more than that. " Okay but honestly if you still leave after that last sentence ;-; imma be upset

Eiichi:

Yeah good luck getting an apology out of this one. He wants you to come back to him, he really does, but by God he cant put his pride aside and say that. You left to go to a friends house after the fight and hes been pacing his own house ever since. You could be so stubborn sometimes! He would text you, call you, and all of it would be met with silence. So, one of these days he literally went to your friends house, pushed past them, and pulled you into his chest so you couldn't see his face as he said the following, "I miss you. The fight was stupid. You belong in my arms, please, forgive me?" He will not let you see his face until you accept his, rather harsh, apology. But he meant it!!

Shion:

He just... Wouldn't talk. Something was bothering him and you could tell but he wouldn't say, which was what got you into this fight in the first place. He didnt mean for you to lock yourself away in the spare bedroom!! He just... Hes just been in his own head lately. So he sat in front of the locked door, hugging his knees and explaining everything, "I never had anyone who cared to listen... I've always kept it to myself.... I'm sorry, (Y/N),... Old habits die hard..." He could feel the door opening and he fell into his back as he did, groaning slightly only to be met with a kiss on the lips.

Van:

He didnt mean to yell at you, to lose his temper like only Yamato could, but you were just so agitating today and he was already stressed and UGH you just had to push his buttons!!! But now you were gone, and the stress had left his body, replaced by worry. Where had you gone? A friend... Maybe? He didn't know, you didn't answer his calls, understandably. But he literally tore the down upside down, finding you on a park bench. He walked up with a bouquet of flowers that he purchased earlier, almost shyly putting it in front of you "I'm sorry, i shouldn't have yelled at you... None of it was your fault. Forgive me?" The quizzical look on your face almost made him want to turn back around but you got up and hugged yourself around his middle, accepting his apology.

Eiji:

Sjjxjejsjshwha are you kidding me ??? He would apologize in the middle of the fight!!! This angel canNOT let it get out of hand. His biggest fear is losing you through his own actions like no. He'll pull you in and hold you tight. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)... I dont even know what we're fighting about anymore... But I can't fight a fight if it meant i could lose you..." Bonus points if you melt like pudding in his arms and just hug him back just as tightly.

Nagi:

He absolutely refuses to apologize first. Will cross his arms and scoff every time you walk by, but the minute you don't look hurt anymore? He gets mad. No no no this is NOT how it's supposed to go!!! You get back here right now and apologize! While he was in his thoughts trying to make you do things, he didn't realize he started stomping over your way and grabbing your arm. The look of shock on his face was priceless but he quickly looked away, "lets just... Go..." Yeah you'll never get a real apology out of him but hey this is something.

Kira:

He honestly cannot stay mad at you for very long because it pains his heart to see you leave and it pains his heart even more to see you cry. The man might not be good with words, but he'll softly take your hand in his and match the look of sadness in your eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)..." It's not an endless paragraph of an apology, but rather a short heartfelt sentence and you can't help but to believe him when he says he won't do it again. That night will be filled with closeness and little whispers of I love you.

#uta no prince sama #uta no prince shining live #utapri starish stillnotsorry #utanoprincesama #utapri headcanons #heavens #otori eiji #eiichi otori #kira sumeragi #mikado nagi #shion amakusa #van kiryuin #yamato hyuga

[asterekmess]

S3A - E3

Hiya, back with another episode of the rewatch. I am...not looking forward to this episode. *deep breath* here we go.

Read More’s save sanity

Hey, so I know this is a really heavy first bullet point...but isn’t anybody else uncomfortable with the image of a black boy running around out of his mind with fury and bloodlust and going after little...white kids? Am I reading too much into this? I know Cora’s running around too. I just...whatever, I’m just gonna keep my mouth shut.

Straight from way too heavy to way too light. So that girl dropped a big jar of fireflies, but they say that fireflies that actually glow aren’t native to California, which would mean these are part of the whole magic thing going on, and at the end of the whole firefly thing they get rid of all the fireflies. So...what if someone finds that jar and opens it?

...nevermind the jar opened up somehow...

Okay, listen, I have a petty and biased hatred for this moment with Scott. Like...is it so hard to say, “I had to get the kids he was chasing away from him?” It’s not like they don’t have time..they just stand there in silence for a while. I also hate the savior pose he strikes there with the kids clinging to him. Like, I get that it’s a very common trope. I still hate it. I use the anti-scott tag for a reason, let me be salty.

why te fuck does Scott FLOAT in the intro?

Lydia has seriously emptied an entire bottle of ibuprofen? She should be dead. Or at least at a hospital. She’s too smart not to know how dangerous it is to take ibuprofen (even the recommended dosage) for too long at a time.

Lydia...Lydia knows about werewolves now. Did no one tell her about this whole escape plan for the betas? She could’ve helped.

Cue the shitty SFX running. Y’all look ridiculous.

Man, come on. Are you seriously telling me that Derek never played hide and seek with his siblings? Like, they’re werewolves for fuck’s sake. Derek never did fake chases through the woods? He tracked PETER for christ’s sake, all the way across town. He was like yards behind him before he got shot that one time.

This show relies a lot on character’s losing time and just finding themselves places. Jackson losing time, Lydia losing time. Lydia losing time again, but in a new way. Later, it’ll be Stiles losing time. I’m just saying, it happens a lot.

It’s fucking august in California. Does it actually get that cold? Poor Lydia’s nose is always red cus she gets forced to wander around in the dark and freezing. I can see her goosebumps when she kneels next to the pool.

I know it’s gotta be hell on her voice, but I think it’s so interesting the way Lydia screams and how it has to jump around the chords before hitting that one note. I don’t know why I find that so interesting. Guess it just reminds me of a wolf howl. Seriously, look ‘em up. Weirdly similar. GO  Holland!

What do you mean the last memory that she had of her mother, Scott? You should’ve told her RIGHT THEN. Right off the bat. There was TONS of time between her getting bit and when she died. You should’ve told Allison right away. Fuck you, you had all of spring break!

god fucking damn it now I’m crying again. Erica, sweetie...Derek honey...

I’m trying to get past the tears to enjoy this romancey stuff, with the candles and the lil lamps, and the LOTR references. I’m really trying.

This is totally not what I should be thinking about while watching the two of them make out, but like, so does Caitlin not go to their school? She just sort of appears a couple times, but Stiles doesn’t seem to know her. Maybe she went to the same school as Heather?

don’t like bugs don’t like bugs ew ew ew ew

Hi cora!

Isaac! You’re somehow feeling better, even though you were apparently out of commission like an hour or two ago...wait huh?

I gotta say, okay, listen I just can’t help it. I know this is serious, but that lil smirk on Isaac’s face? I don’t think he looks smug, personally, I think he looks like he’s about to go play, go rolling around in the grass and leaves, playing with a pack member. He’s been alone for so long this summer, what with Jackson leaving. he’s had no wolves to play with (cus’ we know Derek’s a grump). As worried as he’s gotta be, I bet he’s having funnnnnn.

I..uh..Cora what sound is coming out of your mouth? That..that does not sound like a wolf. That sounds like a wild cat of some kind. Wolves don’t make that screechy noise. They bark and growl, like the sound that came just before. That doesn’t even sound like a roar. Who gave you cheetah sounds?? You’re canine, not feline. Come on they did SO WELL with Derek’s sounds-- No. NO Do not tell me they gave Cora cat sounds cus she’s a chick. I’m gonna fight someone. (For those of you interested, if you scroll to the bottom of this webpage, you can listen to wolf growl snippets and they’re such good quality (I think the bark snippet is broken tho). Listen to those whimpers and whines too, fucking fascinating. I love wolves. Such beautiful animals.)

Cora with Isaac and Scott attacking her and growling at her: “Fuck you, I’ll bite you!” Cora with Derek just growling at her: “BYE bro!”

Stiles, honey! I missed you! Literally, just the sound of your voice makes me feel better.

Scott, Seriously, Derek just said you haven’t tracked either of them anywhere near the pool. You’ve both been following them all night! Yeah, they’re dangerous, but they couldn’t get to the pool and back in time to fight you! I”M GONNA SMACK YOU. DOn’t use that fucking patronizing tone of voice when Derek is TELLING YOU FACTS.

OUR fault? OUR FAULT? I’m gonna fucking *kicks a chair and storms off, grumbling* *Spins around, cus fuck it i’m gonna yell. it’s my post.* NONE OF THIS is DEREK”S FAULT. NOne of this is ISAAC’S FAULT. Fuck dude, I’ll even say that it’s not Scott’s fault! If it’s anyone other than the Alphas’ fault, it’s Allison’s, but tbf she thought she was helping.

DEREK SHUT YOUR PRETTY MOUTH. I swear to god.

ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING? DEREK WOULD NEVER SUGGEST MURDERING BOYD AND CORA. NEVER. He thought Cora was fucking dead and he just found out she’s alive! HE WOULD NEVER. NEVER. FUCK YOU. FUCK EVERYTHING. *Throws a plate* YOU KNOW YOU ONLY FUCKING WROTE IT SO THAT YOU COULD SHOW OFF SCOOT MCFUCKFACE’S SUDDEN FLIP IN MORALITY BY HAVING HIM SAY THAT “KILLING ISN’T THE RIGHT THING TO DO” OH REALLY Scott? REALLY? Killing is bad? YOU DIDN’T THINK SO WHEN YOU SPENT MONTHS attempting to commit PREMEDITATED MURDER of a GUY WHO WAS ALREADY DYING. MONTHS. Scott. FUCK YOU. FUCK THIS SHOW. 13 minutes in and I’m already about to chuck my laptop across the room. MY CAT WON’T EVEN CUDDLE ME ANYMORE I’M SO ANGRY.

And now I’m really fucking sad, cus’ I hate watching this poor girl get told she’s just hallucinating.

WHY does everyone go shopping at fucking 8 pm in Beacon Hills? What...Chris you don’t even have a day job.

I don’t...I don’t understand this scene with Isaac. Like..what exactly are they trying to imply? That he thinks she’s hot? All he’s seen is her raging around with fangs free and glowing eyes. And yeah, some people definitely think that’s hot. But like...that’s just so...what? I choose to read this scene as him just wondering about Derek’s home life. Like, “Since when do you have siblings? Why don’t you tell me these things? I have an aunt?”

WHAT DO YOU mean “Your world?” CHRIS YOU GREW UP AS A HUNTER. THIS IS YOUR WORLD TOO. He was YOUR dad. You’ve been a part of this WAY longer than Scott! Don’t blame the werewolves for ruining your life! THAT WAS YOUR DAD and YOUR STUPID HUNTER CODE’S FAULT.

OKay, listen, I have so many issues with this I need a therapist to mediate my conversations with it. FUCK YOU TW for bringing in Chris. I dont’ give a fuck if he’s experienced or trying to redeem himself. He is a HUNTER he has Slaughtered Derek’s kind for his entire life. He may want to do the right thing, but the right thing definitely doesn’t involved him Standing in front of Derek and forcing him to listen to hunter PROPAGANDA BULLSHIT. I’M SO FUCKING MAD. This was so inappropriate, holy shit. SO far beyond okay. Even the CONCEPT that werewolves wouldn’t be as good at tracking other werewolves as hunters are is fucking stupid. You said it yourself, Chris they can follow scent up to TWO MILES AWAY. Wolves can track their prey for weeks without losing the scent. Just because Isaac stepped on some footprints doesn’t mean he’s incapable of finding them. And what’s all this shit about them “Being able to rely on their human half”? NO? First off, minor detail. Werewolves aren’t half wolf, half human, dumbass. They’re all werewolf. AND The show has said like Ten TIMES that they can’t access their human form/the thought processes they would normally have during a full moon without an anchor, and Boyd and Cora are effectively anchorless on this moon. This is just utter bullshit and I’m so goddamn angry I don’t even know how to process it. “If you’re not trained like me you have no idea this print is Boyd’s” YEAH THEY DO. THEY CAN LITERALLY SMELL IT.  DEREK ALREADY IDENTIFIED THE TRACKS. FUCK you.

ALSO. Getting REAL SICk of people slicing their wrists every time they need a little blood for a ritual or for bait. YOU CUT THE MEAT of the arm. ON THE BACK. WHERE YOU WON”T HIT a VEIN. DUMBASSES.

WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NINE YEARS DEREK? YOU’D BETTER MEAN CORA WAS NINE YEARS OLD, CUS’ THE FIRE WAS SIX YEARS AGO. and what do you mean you don’t have a lock on her scent? you’ve been following it just fine all night! Wolves remember human scents decades later.

Booooo, i hate the entire concept of wolves going mad on a full moon. It’s lazy and boring. Wolves are not vicious animals, they’re shy as fuck. THey don’t attack without reason. Werewolves should be the same. Full moon’s enhance their wolfishness, so it should make them MORE SHY. The moon should enhance whatever they feel, rather than just making them mindlessly aggressive.

“Primal apex Predatory satisfaction”? seriously? Shut the FUCK up Chris, I’m really fucking sick of your hunter bedtime stories.

....i hate this woman.

Casual reminder that Isaac wouldn’t suggest Killing boyd. Ever. I fucking hate these writers.

yeah yeah, running scene. blah blah blah.

See, I never really understood those fics where Peter just refuses to give anyone any info. He tells Derek what’s up constantly. He didn’t lie or hold anything back when he helped Derek figure out what was up with Jackson or how Jackson needed Lydia to be cured. He walks right up to Derek and says “Hey, so those Alphas clearly want you to join them and that means they’re trying to make you kill your own pack” Peter helps Derek all the time. He’s just a dick while he does it.

Look, I love this moment with Peter, his “Let Scott be the hero of his morally black and white world. You and I, we live in shades of gray” lines are so good, and they speak so much to his character and personality. And he’s right. But I hate that they built the scene around Derek planning to kill his own pack, and following Scott around doing as he asks. I just hate what they do to Derek here.

The dog whistles suddenly have no effect on their hearing? Love it.

Take a second to bring up a plotline you won’t explain for ages. I vibe with that, so long as it is eventually explained.

OOh, suddenly BHHS has a football field?

Not gonna cry, not gonna cry. FUCK I’m crying again.

I just...dude I’m over here trying not to completely lose my shit and cry like a baby, and Stiles is in the middle of panicking and losing his oldest friend and he still puts the dots together. Like. Jesus christ this boy.

NOW Derek? You choose NOW to take Every Single Step down the stairs? JUMP.

...what is this a cartoon? Glowing eyes in the dark? one too many sets? Yeah, yeah, I get it, they’re supposed to look like fireflies.

Why did you stop to look at each other after blasting them? Just go.

OH, yeah, of course Scott has to be the one to hear the extra heartbeat. Scott. Not Derek. Not the ALpha who’s senses are heightened above the a Beta’s. Not DEREK the ALPHA who has a PACK, which makes his senses even stronger that that. No. Scott. The omega. Because he’s like an inch closer to the door. Yah. Sure. That makes sense. SUre.

Dude I wish my high school had that much backup supplies free for the teacher’s to grab. Also, I hate this woman.

WHy were the lights off in the boiler room if she was in the back grabbing stuff? That..what?

OH. I forgot, so Caitlin’s out of high school? She’s...what, 18? 19? Okay, fine, I’ll take that.

Oh stop faking Jennifer, fuck you.

Crying again. dont’ mind me. This is Derek. Not choosing to kill his beta or his long lost sister. Choosing to die himself instead. THAT is Derek (it’s self-sacrificing and it’s because he gives his own life no worth, but it’s still him.)

HOW IS IT DAWN? THAT WOULD BE like 6 HOURS of standing around! Or did the sun not set until like 10 pm? Hm? This show has no concept of time, and werewolves are very time oriented. Someone take away the show from the writers. They’ve lost their privileges.

I hate this. I hate that Isaac shouts for Scott. Not Derek. That’s just so fucking dumb. I’m so tired of it. I’m just so fucking sick of it.

I don’t even wanna look at this. I hate this woman so much.

YOU REALIZE that the third Virgin was Taken. The third virgin is DEAD. the sacrifices have been made, and now Jennifer has control over people. This is where she starts controlling Derek. Right Fucking Here. He loses his agency the moment they touch, if not the moment they make eye contact or he gets in range. I hate it. I HATE IT.

BOOM. Episode three, and Stiles already has the villain after next figured out. He’s past the Alphas now. 

Final Thoughts: I’m angry, I’m tired, and I honestly got very little joy or interest out of this whole episode. I hate what this show did to werewolves and how much insane Scott glorification there is and how every little thing HAS to be about Scott. Scott’s relationship with Chris. Scott saving the kids. Scott’s the one Isaac calls for. Scott’s the one who hears the heartbeats. I get that he’s the main character. I also hate that he’s the main character. It’s just so sad and pathetic and boring and just....ugh. I’m going to bed. I will try for another episode or two tomorrow.

(I promise I’m okay. Just go listen to the wolf howls for me in that link, huh? Listen to those beauties and imagine how amazing a wolf show could have been.)

#personal #TeenWolf-Rewatch #anti-scott mccall #i'm sad #but i promise not as sad as it might come across #just need a lil break

[dondonblubstudio]

A nonsensical mess of how I have been feeling lately

Idk why I am posting this here on tumblr, I guess its because I dont have any friends who go like use tumblr and in all honesty

I dont have any friends lol so I might as well blog more often.

What an awful time I have been having in life lately.

So, I will tell my none existent blubs.

i am 25 I have accomplished literally nothing except basically fucking up my own life. I should’ve been a bit further then this. Unlike most people I have few excuses' on why I am in the current circumstances in my life. Accept for the fact that I am just very very stupid. And therefore have the tendency to make stupid decisions.

If one were to give someone like me two paths, and clearly one path which would be the right path would lead to a wonderful realm of joy, success and like wealth.

And the left path clearly I can see dragons on the horizon, it reeks of blood and rot.

I would likely go down the left path because, it looks cool, and I would be sure I would be fine.

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The sheer level of my stupidity, honestly is fascinating from an outsiders perspective. Thats why I am sure people who have bullied me or currently think poorly of me are often provided with absolute entertainment.

Tbh I am just honestly tired. I am so tired of hating myself. and I desperately wish for just a short period of time I can simply like myself.

Tbh I wish I had friends again and I can see people again. And I dont think anytime soon that will happen. Its difficult cuz I have literally noone to talk to about my horible distress. And instead I am constantly grabing my feelings and depression and self doubt and throwing it into a basically already filled pit in my mind. 

I dont really know what to do anymore, except continue working harder and harder, and moving further forward, with the meer hope that a year or a couple years from now, I could have accomplished enough to feel satisfied.

In a way I know its all just perspective, I am perceiving myself as a failure, and also its laziness. I am to lazy, I could do more I really could I just need to get out of this lazy mindset.

Its sad but the only satisfaction in joy I get is by the idea of staying busy and working hard. I hope to work so hard, not for any aspect of success. But so I get sick or it completely destroys and exhausts me.

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Its sad in my adulthood all my friends are gone, I basically only have one. I am not pretty or happy anymore. 

I just have hit a situation. A metaphorical rock in the road and shattered to peices. And became a fragment of what I once was. But as I rebuild myself maybe it is a good thing, because I wasnt anything special in particular, maybe by constantly rebuilding, I can become special.

At this point everything I am saying is probably becoming gibberish.

But hopefully on my tumblr I can become more honest with myself at least, since I cannot be honest with anyone else, I have to be a grinning jester. And just stay happy and put together and well.

Because thats the nature of adulthood and even motherhood, is to be put together no matter what as to not burden others with things as trivial and silly as having feelings.

But I often wish I could be human, and have nervous breakdowns like other human, or cry, but I cannot. I have to be strong. Even though I am glass and broken glass, at that. I have to be strong broken glass. 

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I was watching a youtube video about DARK SOULS and theres a character in it based from the OV Angels Egg.

I dont really no much about either but from whatI gather. 

Dark Souls a woman of godly illusion of a female character, is asleep and holding a massive broken egg against her bussom the egg is broken. But shes asleep. When the main character wakes her sheopens her eyes sees the broken empty egg and it turns to dust and she I presume dies.

In the story Angels Egg, it is also similiar, a young cute girl is running around with an egg she found in a post apocalyptic world, she meets a traveler who ponders why she carries the egg. The girl says she thinks there is a bird inside. She cares deeply about the egg. Later on in the story the traveler I think does break this egg.

In both stories this egg, represents illusion, hope and religion. Its isnt whats inside the egg, whether with the goddess asleep holding it dearly or the little girl carrying it around. Its rather the illusion of hope that keeps people going and keeps pushing us forward. Whether the traveler of Angels Egg, Or the main character of Demon Souls. It takes a character to break this illusion, that then destroys the goddess, or little girl.

My egg(illusion) is the belief in a better life. I am not even sure what a better livelihood would mean to me. I guess something stereotypical, where I have friends and hobbies and can afford a decent lifestyle for my daughter. A plausible world where I can no longer dislike myself. 

This is an illusion because in reality I have depression, that I leave untreated, because I have anxiety and a sickly sweet personality that people find annoying or bizarre.

But I still hold onto this egg. I still will continue striving and failing and striving and failing. Maybe this is something that I can be proud of myself. Is because no matter how many times I fail, and my mental health deteriorates, I can not stop working hard. Even if I wanted to I am incapable of stopping.

I have to truck forward, I am just really tired. And lonely. Because every step forward I do make, my failures blow me 10 steps back

So yea that was my feelings. 

I just wanted to talk about it. There not important so.. yea thanks for reading.

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If anyone wants you can follow my instagram: @dondonblub 

#lonely #journal #depression #diary #anime #sad #black