#she was trying to get us to listen to classical music and stuff
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anyway what band do you still listen to this day ONLY because your dad introduced it to you?
#I'll start: my dad showed me Surfing with the Alien by Joe Satriani when I was nine#and ever since then he's been in my playlists#he also showed me and my siblings the Trans Siberian Orchestra at the ripe old age of baby#my mom was so mad#she was trying to get us to listen to classical music and stuff#and then dad gave us like#rock ballads and metallica#anyway i don't listen to any metallica other than Lords of Summer#but i appreciate them ig#if you've read this far#go listen to Nineteen Eighty by Joe Satriani#and Beethoven by Trans Siberian Orchestra
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BG3 Companion Music Headcanons
whoops look at me posting fun things. Anyway this is just what I think they'd enjoy listening to and not based on the playlists their actors made for them. I also did not go to the effort of doing research beyond the music I already know for this so if I'm missing some fundamental character song sorry
Karlach: into EDM, rap, pop, and pop punk mainly. anything that gets her moving and has good vibes. lowkey she has highschool dance playlist vibes like you play party rock anthem or timber and this girly is tearing up the floor. shares a Marina playlist with Shadowheart. Delves into the edgier side of pop punk, veering into emo on occasion. Her theme song is hot to go by chapell roann bc duh
Shadowheart: opposite end of the vibes spectrum. She does not want to dance she wants to feel like a bad bitch. Into a balanced amount of mainstream and indie artists. Listens to rihanna, marina, and lady gaga as well as like halestorm and evanescence. She and Karlach have scream sung I miss the misery together at the top of their lungs more then once. Not huge into mcr but she knows all the lyrics to welcome to the black parade as is her duty as an emo
Lae'zel: if you were to walk up to Lae'zel Githyanki and ask what music she likes she would look you back in the eye and say "I do not listen to music" and she doesn't. She just. Doesn't. I feel like the only thing she listens to is like weapon sharpening asmr. The only exception to this is that she once heard some of shadowheart's edgelord music and vibed hard but doesn't care enough to look it up for herself. (I made this headcanon a while ago without knowing Devora Wilde literally made a character playlist for Lae'zel that had zero songs bc she has better things to do ehoevoeovegoeg)
Gale: caught in the strange overlap between classical music lover, theater kid and literally just listening to whatever the radio is playing. He has a piano canonly idk if he actually. Plays it but he really likes piano music anyway. Stuff that sharpens the mind for study is always welcome. The theater kid comes out to play when he is home alone and/or has Wyll over and gets to scream along to phantom of the opera. He'd be a Cats defender and I'll say that with my chest
Wyll: DAD MUSIC. Like exclusively 70s/80s rock. Crying to American Pie or Carry on Wayward Son is a borderline weekly ritual for this man. Devout Kansas listener. Listens to metal on bad days but the only metal band he knows is black sabbath. Could probably play the thunderstruck guitar solo by ear if he ever deigned to learn guitar. Queen Stan until the day he leaves this earth
Astarion: kinda all over the place. He brags about listening to classical but that's only like 50% of what he really listens to. He likes music from ballets like swan lake. For not classical it's generally chill music from like the 50s/60s and then like 80s ballads. Loves Billy Joel
Halsin: I want to say asmr guy who listens to nature sounds but I don't think he'd own a device with which to play them and he'd rather just go listen to real birds anyway. Most of the songs he knows are folk songs he's picked up and he's more then content with his own renditions being the only ones he hears. Owns an ancient record player he never uses and a bunch of old vinyls the others are constantly trying to buy off him because they're super valuable, I'm talking vintage Frank Sinatra and shit
Minthara: okay two possibilities. She is either with Lae'zel in the club of just does not listen to music, like she just does not. The alternative option is that she's really into metal culture, like she casually talks about her favorite niche black metal group that no one else has ever heard of. Probably classically trained on like 5 instruments as well
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 headcanons#minthara baenre#astarion#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#shadowheart#karlach#karlach cliffgate#wyll ravengard#halsin#lae'zel#lae'zel of k'liir#astarion ancunin#I am realizing now I forgot jaheira and Minsc#Early 20th century ballroom music/folk and the Hamster Dance respectively
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Baby, don't cry
Hope Mikaelson X Male Reader
Request: Could you write a hope mikaelson x male reader. Where the reader is the son of Dean Winchester and has been dating hope for awhile but only finds out she is a supernatural when he finds her fighting a monster that he was hunting and they have a massive argument and they don't talk for awhile but in the end they reconcile with eachother.
If you don't mind writing that?
You have been hunting for a monster on your own. You wanted to prove to your dad and your uncle that you can hunt on your own. You text your girlfriend Hope and you wait for her text…
You- babe sorry, I can't make it to our date. Maybe this weekend???
Hope doesn't text back and she hasn't read your text. You drive to the woods while listening to classic rock music. You stopped the car in the woods. You get out of the car then you went to open the trunk. You take out the shotgun and bullets, then you start to walk into the woods to kill a monster.
While walking in the woods, you hear a loud growl. You have been trying to find and kill a monster called Arachne Spider. You run toward the loud growl then you see your girlfriend Hope.
“Hope!?” You said.
“Y/n!? What are you doing here?” Hope asked.
“What are you doing here?” You asked.
The monster was going to attack you and Hope. You used your shotgun to slow it down, then she used her magic to kill it.
“What the hell!? Hope yelled.
“Since when you can use magic!?” You asked
“Are you a hunter, Y/n?” Hope asked.
“Yes, I'm a hunter, and I come from a family who are hunters. And how do you have magic?” You said.
“I’m a witch, vampire, and a werewolf which that makes me a tribrid. Why you didn't tell me that you are a hunter? You hunt down people who are like me?” Hope said.
“Don't blame all of this on me! You didn't tell me that you are a tribrid. We hunt down creatures that kill people” You said.
You and Hope start to argue and started to yell at each other. You and Hope haven't been dating for too long, but have kept secrets from each other. You weren't sure how she would react that you are a hunter.
“Wait… your last name is Winchester so that means Dean Winchester is your dad!?” Hope yelled.
“Yeah, he is my dad,” You said
“Oh, I heard about him and everyone else, your dad and his brother are not liked,” Hope said.
“So? We hunt down monsters and kill them… wait I-I” You said.
“How do I know you won't kill me or my friends?!” Hope yelled.
“I’m not a crazy person that kills anything-”
“I'm not just anything, Y/n!” Hope yelled.
You and Hope kept yelling at each other. She is feeling frustrated and angry at you for lying to her. You are feeling the same way and you are being stubborn.
“We are done!” Hope yelled.
“Fine!” You yelled.
You and Hope walked away from each other. You are driving back to the bunker and you are breathing hard. Hope wanted to be alone, but her friends noticed something is wrong.
——
Your father Dean is cooking and he is making burgers with bacon.
“Y/n, why aren't you eating?” Dean asked.
“I got into a fight with my girlfriend,” You said.
“Young love,” Dean said.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“She found out that I'm a hunter and I found out that… um, she is -”
“Spill it. She is what?” Dean said.
“A tribrid,” You said.
“A tribrid? What is that?” Dean asked.
“She is a vampire-werewolf-witch. We didn't tell each other because… well I wasn't sure how she was going to react to that I'm a hunter. We argued then we yelled at each other then we said stuff that we shouldn't have” You said.
“I can't believe that you are dating someone who is a tribrid! Y/n” Dean said.
“Dad, I really like her! I got to know her and she made me happy. She doesn't hurt people” You said.
“How can you be sure?” Sam asked.
“She could have killed me when she found out that I'm a hunter. But she didn't, we just got into an argument. She gets me, she likes my sense of humor and she cares about me” You said.
“Dean, she isn't the enemy. I know you go gun blazing” Sam said.
Dean knows that Sam is right. He can see that you are hurt and you want your girlfriend back. Your father sits next to you and put his hand on your shoulder.
“Son, not all relationships are going to be easy and filled with rainbows. If you think this girl is the one then work out. And if everything is okay then we would want to meet her. We will take down the symbols” Dean said.
“Who are you? Dad, is that you?” You said.
“What?” Dean asked.
Sam laughed.
“Uncle Sam usually gives good advice not you. No offense, dad but your answer to everything is guns and pie” You said.
“Ouch. Eat your food, Y/n” Dean smiled.
You start to eat your food and you tell them how you met Hope.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You and Hope haven't spoken to each other in days. You have been staying in your room for days and you don't leave your room. Your dad Dean tries his best to get you to come out of the room but it doesn't work.
Hope still has feelings for you but she isn't sure what to say to you or if you want to see her.
Josie and Lizzie didn't want Hope to be alone. They are trying their best to cheer her up, kinda working. Tonight is raining hard with thunderstorms and Hope looks out the window.
“Did you call him or text?” Lizzie asked.
“No, because I don't know what to say” Hope sighed.
“Just tell him how you feel. Maybe he would feel the same way. He cares about you because if he didn't he would have attacked you. Just talk to him” Josie said.
“I think she doesn't have to call him,” Lizzie said.
“What?” Hope and Josie said.
“He is outside in the rain. He just waved at me” Lizzie said.
Hope and Josie run towards the window. You are soaked and you are waving at Hope. They rushed downstairs and Hope opened the door.
“Y/n, what are you doing in the rain?” Hope asked.
“I had to see you, Hope. I know we haven't been dating for long, but I really care about you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my family being hunters. I want to make it work with you and I don't have a problem with you being a tribrid. I missed you” You said.
Lizzie got a towel for you, then Hope wrapped the towel around you.
“I missed you too, Y/n. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you and I was scared to tell you” Hope said.
She grabbed the towel and pulls you into a kiss. You and Hope are smiling at each other. You kissed her back. They get dry clothes for you to wear and Lizzie helped Hope to make soup for you.
——
You take Hope to the bunker and you go inside, but Hope couldn't go inside.
“Strange I can't go in,” Hope said.
“I thought he took it down,” You said.
“Guess not,” Hope said.
You go inside and there is a symbol by the door. You messed up the symbol
“Now, you can come inside” You smiled
“Thank you,” Hope said.
Hope goes inside the bunker.
“So… you live here with your dad and uncle?” Hope said.
“Yes with Cas well sometimes,” You said.
“Who?” Hope asked.
“Dad, this is Hope my girlfriend. Hope, that is my Uncle Sam and that is Cas. Cas is an angel who used to follow God’s rules” You said.
“He doesn't look like an angel,” Hope said.
“If you see my true form then you would die,” Cas said.
“Really?” Hope asked.
“Yeah, really,” You said.
“We won't hurt you or your friends. You make my son happy and that is good enough for me” Dean said.
“He makes me happy too,” Hope said.
Later, you give a tour of the bunker with Hope. Then you showed her your bedroom then you and Hope sat on the bed. After a while of talking, you and Hope stare into each other's eyes then slowly lean in and you kissed her first. you and Hope start to kiss each other.
She gently lies down and you continue to kiss her. Her hands are behind your neck and you can't stop smiling.
“Where are they?” Dean asked.
“I saw them in his room,” Sam said.
Dean went to stop you and Hope and Sam is laughing. The door is closed without knocking, your father barged in.
“Who wants bacon!?” Dean said very loud.
That made you jump and you fell off the bed. You and Hope were just kissing each other nothing more.
“Dad!” You yelled.
You stand up and Hope did the same.
“Keep the door open. You two need air so let's go eat bacon” Dean said.
“Not cool” You mumbled.
“Let's go before the bacon gets cold. Oh, and Y/n wipe the lipstick off your lips” Dean said.
Hope couldn't help to giggle. You used your shirt to wipe the lipstick off your lips. You and Hope followed your dad to the kitchen.
#hope mikaelson imagine#Hope Mikaelson x male reader#hope mikaelson x reader#x male reader#male!reader#male reader#male reader imagine#male reader insert
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💀Pick a Poisonous Flower - Pick a Card
Pandorasworkshop
Pick a poisonous flower to find out who's your hidden enemy?
Datura Foxglove Belladonna
Datura
Datura is a hellish plant that can bring about nightmarish hallucinations and dehydrate your body past no return.
Cards: queen of cups, devil, death, king of pentacles, moon, eight of pentacles .
Readings: Be careful of a blonde? women who you may work with or go to school with. She is highly manipulative and has a sweet girl act down to every last detail. She's convinced the people around her of this act as well. This person may be jealous of your success, hard work, talent and patience. They may want to push you out of your position, get you fired in the worst case scenario, get your promotion or steal your light. Be careful not to tell people too much jealous eyes can give you bad luck. Your advice is king of pentacles which means someone in your higher up will help you but first you need to balance yourself. Do not react to anything. I can see this person using your anxiety/depression/paranoia against you. Stay calm and collected. This person is really obsessive. She may even try to take your ideas and pass them off as hers. Make sure things are in writing always. Be very careful. These cards are heavy major arcana.
Signs: rainbows, number 8, magic 8 ball, masquerade mask, growing pains, scones, chai tea, wanting to cut your hair, police sirens, cold beer.
Foxglove
Foxglove is a poisonous plant that it's affects are similar to that of a cardiac arrest. It's called foxgloves because it was thought to be fairies gloves.
Cards: Seven of pentacles, three of cups reversed, nine of swords, nine of cups
Reading: You have a lot of envy for simply being yourself. Someone in your friend group is really jealous of you and may be unintentionally sending you negative energy your way through the evil eye. All the cards in this reading are minor arcana so I feel like this person won't do anything really impactful? Or anything that will make a dent in you. They are jealous of how happy you seem in yourself and how you seem to persevere through things. You have confidence that they don't have and it causes them to be self conscious. Your energy may be picking up on this if you are highly intuitive and it makes you feel worried almost but don't be. Your advice is to cleanse yourself and any gifts you may get and stay protected however you may do that. Your guides got yoy
Signs: gigs, snow, thunderstorms, starting your period, icicles, haunted houses, fairy themed stuff, feeling sick to your stomach, warm cup of tea, brown boots, brown sugar, angel statues.
Belladonna
Belladonna is a poisonous plant that if ingested can cause lethargy and comas if ingested. It got it's name from 'beautiful' and 'woman' because it used to be made into a topical cosmetic foundation and increased pupil size. Obviously this has been out of practice now.
Cards: Three of cups, three of swords, judgement and five of pentacles
Reading: You may have broken someone's heart or broken off a friendship. This person feels veryyy resentful of you. Even if you were just asserting your boundaries. You may actively know this person dislikes you but may not think they are wanting to see your downfall but this person is very much in their emotions and feels very hurt by just your presence. They may try to use your past against you like past trauma, occupations or things you've done when you were younger. They are beating a dead horse and I feel as if this person will get tired of it eventually. They could even be a step sibling? Whoever this person is they can't take no for an answer and aren't the type person you want in your life.
Signs: Romeo and Juliet, Wattpad fanfics, opera, Chocolate cake, crepes, feeling really hungry, parrots, 421, 444, journaling, listening to classical or instrumental music.
#tarotblr#pick a pile#tarot pick a pile#pick a photo#pick a picture#pick a card#tarot tips#tarot witch#tarot reading#tarot cards#tarot#witchblr#witchcraft#folk magic#spellwork#divination
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After a while of trying, I ended up uninstalling Twitter again. That app is not for me lmao.
On the other hand, though, I am feeling quirky and want to make a new HCs post of creepypasta. So...
Creepypasta characters soft spots*
Featuring: Jeff the Killer, Jane Everlasting, Nina the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Sully, BEN, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Laughing Jill, Candy Pop, Jason the Toymaker
* bear in mind I make them a tad bit fucked up in the head, so beware (though it IS Creepypasta)
Tw: slightly graphic canibalism description, mentions of abandonment trauma, canon like control freakiness on Jason's part
Jeff The Killer - expressiveness and not being easily intimidated
Jeff is a pretty... Expressive guy, to not say a huge asshole with a big ego. And even though he might not say it, he does admire someone being expressive. It took him a long time (and a mental breakdown) to start expressing himself how he wanted to. If he meets someone that is expressive be it verbally or physically, he will end up circling around them more often than others.
Hand in hand with that, if the person is not easily intimidated and has the courage to talk him out of his mean comments, he might as well ask to be friends with them. As much as he denies it, he enjoys not scaring someone by being himself from time to time.
Jane Everlasting - housekeeping skills and good music taste
Jane is not the easiest person to get along with. However, if you know how to work a stove, and knows that x product is better at cleaning windows than y, she finds than entertaining. She misses Mary so much, and having someone that reminds her of Mary, it warms her on the inside.
This is more of her being a bit of a nitpick, but she despises having to deal with screamo or those techno songs. She deals with it too much from the others, so having the chance to listen to classic romantic ballads, or some soft Jazz while reading a book, by her fave person's side, and not having a complaint at all? That's a dream. One that seems so far away to her reality, being near so many emos
Nina the Killer - foot on earth and alternative fashion
If you stayed even 5 minutes with Nina, you would understand why she appreciates someone hard on reality. Nina is easily enthusiastic and also impulsive as fuck. So having someone to keep her from breaking the whole house down, or to make sure she doesn't throw someone out of the second floor window, it really helps her out in the end, and she knows it.
Nina, although she is slowly getting better at keeping this down, is still a bit obsessed with Jeff, so alternative styles like emo and her beloved Scene style, it makes her feel like she is right up her alley. She would pick matching fits for you two, and also make a whole blog just for pictures of you two with very 2000s core stuff. Plus: hot topic dates.
Homicidal Liu - respectfulness and good cooking skills
Liu has gone through a lot of traumatic events, all his life. Some he holds the memories, after alter fusion, and others... Not so much. But what he does know is that disrespect towards his person, and what he has gone through, is something he doesn't want to go through never again. So being respectful, in the sense of not narrowing him to DID guy, or to murderer, it makes him genuinely happy.
Liu misses his family, even though it wasn't the best family. It's been 11 years since he lost all his family, so sometimes he will try cooking food that his parents used to make. However he... Is not the best cook. He tries, he really does, but it's not his thing. So having someone put the time and effort to do this small act, of cooking him the food that he misses since a teen, it makes him have butterflies. Plus, seeing his lover in an apron sounds cute in his mind.
Sully - strong morals and dark humor
Sully may share a body with Liu, but he is still his own person, as an alter. And most importantly he is the system protector. It is his role to make sure no more trauma is suffered. So, having a lover that understand that and agrees with him, it is a sight to behold to him. And most importantly, having someone that understands and respects the boundaries he puts, which are many, is important for him.
Now... The system is rather small, and so Sully is a trauma holder alter. But... His method of coping with that trauma is mostly through dark humor. Jokes about his trauma done by him or the body, is the way he knows how to cope and, in his eyes, not turn into a monster like Jeff, which he despises. Having someone letting him indulge in his not healthy but necessary coping mechanism, and even joking around with their own problems, it ends up in a great pair for him.
B.E.N._drowned - Sass, nerdiness and night owl
BEN is not really a human, and although he sometimes can be very human like due to the Moonchildren Souls, the one in control is still the Behavioral Environment Network. So he has the power to be as mean as he wants and not feel remorse. Though as a behavioral AI, he can react in many ways depending what his code finds most fitting. He didn't start liking sass, but after being around Jeff and collecting data to act based on that, besides the souls, he ended up sassy, and enjoys now having sass thrown back at him. It is a familiar environment, which is something he sometimes need.
He is based around on TLOZ, and his souls had that common interest besides other games, so of course he wants a gamer to fit with him. He doesn't sleep, so having someone also be a night owl and stay the whole night spending time with him, letting him learn their functions and behavior, it makes him enthusiastic, as much as malevolent code can be.
Eyeless Jack - Patience and a hard stomach
Jack, different than a lot of the others, didn't want to be here at first. And as such he isn't the easiest to approach, sometimes being plainly reclusive, and others being aggressive. Having patience but still perseverance to approach him at his own time, and let things go in his time, it makes him trust you even more.
Jack, as we all know, is a human eating being. Not sure cannibal is the right term since he isn't a human anymore, but I'll use it for now. As a cannibal, it is not easy to be around him sometimes. He is not afraid to eat in front of others if needed, or to harvest organs out of a human carcass. If you can endure at least the putrid smell of organs and blood, than you will find EJ to not be he worst to be around.
Laughing Jack - playfulness and clingyness
LJ is, as we all know I assume, a clown! So what would I clown like to be around? People who know how to have fun, of course! Playful battering, joking around, a good sense for a performance, this are all things that, summed by playfulness, make Jack feel alive. The feeling of succeeding at making his lover laugh till their cheeks turn red, it is a sight to behold to him, so having a good sense of playfulness makes things a lot easier.
On the other hand, Jack was once abandoned for years in his toy box. He grew to feel lonely, sometimes even around others. Having someone being close to him, even when not the best option to do so, and the feeling of being wanted all times. It does magic to the clown.
Laughing Jill - good sense of humor and optimism
Jill, like Jack, is a big clown lady and as such, she loves to make people laugh and have fun! She isn't the fondest of the more mean plays, but she does love striking jokes around, so having a good sense of humor is the best option of a pair for her!
Although she was made to be happy and make others happy, she can have negative emotions too. But having someone that will make sure to let her know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and give her the care she gives to others, it is truly special for her.
Candy Pop - chaotic nature and being laid back
Candy is to an extent a genie like entity. And as such, they love to bring chaos, and distort stuff to their amusement. And as such, having someone that matches their personality is what they want. C'mon, who doesn't want to see what can happen if they inflate their head like a balloon? I do.
As such, someone strict to the rules, and someone that wants them to be in line at all times bore them if not anger them. They need some semblance of freedom. Being laid back, doing your stuff when they do theirs, and uniting forces to end get out of trouble, that's love to them.
Jason the Toymaker - size difference and art appreciation
Jason is someone that likes to feel in control of any and all situation. He is a manipulators, so making sure he is the one up top, it's what he wants ever and ever. Having someone smaller than him, it gives him a semblance of control, even if only illusory. It plays in his control freakiness.
As a toymaker, he is an artisan. He loves to create intricate toys, which are pieces of art in itself. Having someone that appreciates it and praises him for it, it boosts his already inflated ego. He might plainly squeeze you for your praises, as a thank you.
That's all I got for now, might do some others plus the proxies on another post.
Reminder that it is cool if you don't agree or like these, y'all can have your own opinions and it is very valid! This is how I like the characters (aka sick in the head).
#creepypasta#creepypastas#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta fanfic#tena writing#jeff the killer#jeff the killer headcanon#jane the killer#jane everlasting#jane the killer headcanon#nina the killer#nina the killer headcanon#homicidal liu#homicidal liu headcanon#sully creepypasta#sully creepypasta headcanon#ben drowned#behavioral event network#ben drowned headcanon#behavioral event network headcanon#eyeless jack#eyeless jack headcanon#laughing jack#laughing jack headcanons#laughing jill#laughing jill headcanon#candy pop#candy pop headcanon#jason the toymaker#jason the toymaker headcanon
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Good Omens s3 clue
I realised I never posted this, although I made it ages ago! So here y'all go!
This is going to be long, and I hope it will make sense. Please bear with me to the end, I will eventually get to the Judgement Day, Armageddon, Death (and four horsemen of Apocalypse) and I will mention goats.
I noticed this tiny clue when watching s2ep3. Aziraphale drives to Edinburgh and the Bentley plays classical music. But not just any classical music – it’s Danse Macabre by Camill Saint-Saëns.
I am a musician and I've played this piece in the past, so I knew there was a lot of symbolism to uncover. And that thing is deeper than I thought. I will be speaking about some music theory, but I will try to make it as understandable as possible.
I think it would be best, if you listened to Danse Macabre: https://youtu.be/…zrJ
I would like to speak once more about the scene in which Danse macabre appears. Aziraphale is driving to Edinburgh in now a yellow Bentley, and he even has his "car sweets". He is quite satisfied. And he plays this, certainly dark-themed, music. It is a major contrast.
Danse Macabre, "the dance of death" is a memento mori. Memento mori is a theme we see in art, and it originated in medieval times as reaction to the plague. It should remind us of our own mortality. “Memento mori” literary translates as "remember death". And mark my words, do remember death!
The composition uses tritones, a special kind of a music interval. (Interval is the tonal distance between two tones, you can play the tones together and/or separate.) Tritone is seemingly dissonant because it uses seemingly inharmonious tones. (You can hear tritones just at the beginning, the violins play it.) Because of its dissonance it was called "the devil in music" and was considered forbidden and associated with Hell/demons/death.
Since the music piece and the poem is based on the theme of Memento mori, I had to look into it as well. Turns out Danse Macabre was inspired by a poem by Henry Cazalis. Here is the poem: https://oxfordsong.org/…bre Memento mori doesn't only remind us of death and our mortality, it also reminds us, that everyone's equal in death. Henry Cazalis, the poet, writes: Long live death and equality! The poem is called, of course, Danse Macabre, but I found that it is also called Égalité - Fraternité (when reading stuff about it in French). This is a reference to the French revolution motto: Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité (Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood), but Liberty is missing. Is there then no Liberty in death and we are all doomed to obey someone's will, The Ineffable plan? (Good Omens book and season one also deals with topics of free will, look at Crowley and Anathema. She has been doing only the things her dead ancestor told her to do, she overcomes it in the end. I think it nicely illustrates the problematic of a free will. And Crowley values free will a lot.)
Memento mori says one thing - remember death, no one can outrun it. And there I would like to get back to season 1, because who else we meet here than Death itself.
Death is one of the Four Bikers/Riders/Horsemen of Apocalypse. But I always thought Death has a higher rank than the others. If you think of it, War, Pollution and Famine all lead to one thing- to Death. Why would you need all three then? Isn't Death qualified enough to do its job? Also, rewatch the scene where Adam and his friends battle them! War, Pollution and Famine all get destroyed by the flaming sword. But not Death- it spreads its wings and says (quote from the book): "You cannot destroy me. That would destroy the world." And later he adds that they are never far away. And he flies of. He isn't destroyed.
Death didn't appear in season two and I think people are starting to forget it, but Memento mori! Remember Death!
I would also like to remark that Neil Gaiman says the whole story is plotted out and that he has done this with Terry Pratchett. In every Discworld series book (the magnum opus of Sir Terry Pratchett), apart from two or three, there is the character of Death. And I think it would make sense that Death would appear in Good Omens as well, after all, it is also Pratchett's book. I think we might see Death returning in season three, because the Day of Wrath/Last Judgement/Armageddon is coming. And this music piece could serve as a literal memento mori - remember Death, it has not exited the scene yet. (A lot of Pratchett's humour is based on puns, and this seems like a joke/plot twist he would try to use. It's my personal opinion based on how I know his style from his books.)
And what's next? Armageddon is coming, the Day of Wrath is here! Both sides are pretty eager to do this ending-of-the-world thing and after all, it's what they have been trying to start from the begging of the show. It was delayed by Gabriel's "disappearance", but things are now getting into motion, I think.
But back to the Danse macabre, because it (surprise surprise!) has quite some things to do with the Judgement Day. In the middle of the composition Cammille Saint-Saëns uses a musical theme from a different work, a Gregorian chant called Deis irae ("Day of Wrath").
Here is a link to Wikipedia page about the chant, you can listen to it there. (I didn't find any recording on YouTube, only other musicians using the quite popular words of the chant and not the actual music.) https://en.m.wikipedia.org/…rae
About the chant itself. It is written from the point of view of a sinner/normal person, and it describes how the Last Judgement shall be. Before dealing with the themes of the chant itself, I would like to say, that Saint-Saëns has used the Deis irae in a major key. Allow me to do a quick music theory intermission.
You can play in two keys, major and minor. These are, if I oversimplify things, sets of notes with different intervals. The melody, played one tone at a time, can be used in both major and minor key. The melody isn't the thing that determines the key of the song, the tones played with it do. And depends on what tones you use, you either get major or minor. Major is (in western culture) associated with happiness and good things, while minor with sadness. (It's not always like that, but for the sake of understanding we are going to pretend it is.) Now, the Deis irae is usually written in the sad minor key. Saint-Saëns decided to use the happy major key with this depressing chant, once again creating contrast. I'm stumbling over contrasts more than usually, so this may be important. End of the intermission.
In the third and fourth strophe of Deis irae, it's described how the sound of a trumpet will sound everywhere and the Death will resurrect all dead creations to be brought to the Judge. (Death is back again and resurrecting, that sounds familiar, where have we seen that before?)
In the fifteenth strophe, the writer, a sinner, prays for this: Put me with the sheep and separate me from the goats, guide me to the right side! Goats again, there they are! This strophe of course references the chapter 25 in the Gospel of Matthew, the Separation of sheep and goats. Sheep go to the right and goats to the left. I think the side symbolism is pretty clear in Good Omens. Right is the righteous side and left is the sign of sin. And we also know how Crowley cares about the goats. There is also the Jewish tradition of scapegoat. Either way, goats are connected to Crowley, their symbolism of being “on the left side” is clear. This interesting bit can play part in Armageddon.
In the fifth strophe of Deis irae the Book, that is exactly and perfectly worded and that will judge all world, appears. And this book is no other than The Book of Life.
We know about Book of Life from the season 2, Micheal threatens to force "extreme sanctions" (erasing them form the Book) upon anyone who knows about Gabriel.
Enter a fan theory I read: Nor Heaven or Hell actually have the Book of Life, we never see it on screen. This was mentioned in a tumblr post, and I will probably never be able to dig it up from the depths of the internet, so remember this is not my theory. (Although I find it very interesting.) The post continues and remarks, that when Crowley in the first episode of the second season learns about the Book and the "extreme sanctions" from Beelzebub, he doesn't bat an eye. He is pretty calm and doesn't seem surprised. (He literary says: "That will teach them a lesson", man, we're talking about being wiped from the earth's surface completely!) The writer of the post thinks, this is because Crowley knows that Heaven doesn't have the book and he knows where it is. The writer claims, it was Crowley, who took it as a little souvenir before his Fall, and later has hidden it in Aziraphale's bookshop. ('Cause one single book will definitely stay hidden in all those piles of old books.)
I think this is really interesting because of Crowley’s reaction. He knows what Aziraphale is risking, and he loves that angel, yet he seems so calm. When the bookshop burned down in the fifth episode of season one and Crowley thought Aziraphale died, he went feral: he was angry and furious, and he was destroyed by the fact that he has lost Aziraphale. He mourns and gets drunk. Nothing of this happens in season two!
So, what are my thoughts on season three? It will get really dark and serious, the Armageddon is coming, after all. I think we will see Death return and the Book of Life will appear. The goats may not be used literally, like on screen, but I think we will get some metaphors.
In all of this, I tried to say one thing. All of the cards are laid out, we have all of the clues. It would be pretty cheap trick to use some ineffable "deus ex machina", that's not Gaiman's and Pratchett's style.
I think everything is now foreshadowed; we have been given all the information. We just haven't made the links in-between. Given the uproar the second season has caused, I think people are forgetting the first season a bit. But it must end with what it started with.
I think we should look at both seasons equally and try to pick up as much as we can, after all the third season will not be based solely on the season two...
We have all the clues, now it's Neil Gaiman who plays an ineffable game of his own devising, a poker that nobody has the rules for and the dealer, Neil himself, is smiling all the time. Ineffable, indeed. If you ask me, he's enjoying it bloody-well.
#good omens#neil gaiman#s3 speculation#good omens clues#good omens meta#good omens 2#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#aziraphale#crowley#good omens fandom#go 2#david tennant#micheal sheen#good ineffable omens#ineffable fandom
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Linen and Kisses
For Fluffbruary! The prompts for today were table | blush | laundry. Thanks to @toooldforthisbutstill for sharing the snippet of a marriage contract that inspired this.
Linen and Kisses
The music had switched from Wagner to Nine Inch Nails, so Cassian knew his girlfriend was taking a break for at least a few songs. She couldn't listen to anything with words when she was working, she said because languages got tangled up in her head, so she had massive playlists of classical and instrumental music to blast as she was head-down in some manuscript or other.
He went out to the kitchen and found her filling the kettle. The ravages of her morning's work spilled out over the table, multiple dictionaries and her battered old computer and printouts with penciled notes and highlighted words.
"What language today?" he asked.
"Japanese," she said.
Before meeting her, Cassian had considered himself reasonably multilingual. Spanish, English, and about halfway to fluent in French. It was two-and-a-half times more languages than most people spoke in this country.
But Jyn was fluent in all those and more. She worked as a freelance translator, and since moving in together, he'd gotten used to having half the bookcase filled with dictionaries and having to guess which language she was using to talk on the phone and why.
French, Japanese, Arabic, Russian? Some connection of hers on another continent.
Spanish, with a lot of laughing? Probably his sister.
Danish? Her father, and there would be cursing afterwards.
"Are you done?" he asked. "Or just taking a break?"
"Done for now."
"Good, I was going to start lunch. Any requests?"
"Edible," she said, starting to clear up her mess. "Thanks." She hooked her arm around his waist and leaned up to kiss his cheek. She got taciturn when fighting with a particular translation - well, more taciturn.
By the time she'd cleaned the table off, he'd gotten some of his homemade tomato soup in the microwave and assembled a couple of cheese sandwiches for grilling. She leaned against the counter as he cooked.
He rarely liked having someone in his kitchen, but Jyn was the exception.
"What's wrong?" she asked, breaking a corner off the cheese block and tossing it in her mouth.
"Nothing," he answered, a hair too fast. "Why do you ask?"
She eyed him. "I dunno, you just seem a little tense."
"Because you're eating all the good cheese."
"Oh no," she said, cutting off another corner. "Whatever will happen if we run out of cheese? We might have to go down to the store. How awful."
He waggled his spatula at her. "That's the good stuff. You don't get that at a fucking Walmart."
"Snob," she said, and took another corner. "And anyway, we don't get anything at fucking Walmart because you're banned for talking to the cashiers about unionizing."
"Only because I wouldn't let you vandalize the store manager's car."
"Is slashing tires really vandalism?"
"I think you'll find, yes."
She shrugged. "They never would have caught me."
The microwave beeped, and she pulled out the bowls, just in time for him to plate the sandwiches. With the addition of cutlery and tea in heavy mugs, lunch was served.
He wasn't fool enough to think she'd been distracted or deceived, and if he had been, the canny look she shot him would have disabused him of that notion. The woman knew him far too well.
"So," she said. "What've you been up to this morning?" She dipped the corner of her sandwich in the soup.
It was as good an opening as he could have hoped for.
"Messing around online," he said, digging in his back pocket. "Actually, I found something and did some practice translating, but I'm not too sure if I got it right."
"French? Your French is coming along."
"It's not as good as yours," he said, and she nodded in agreement. "Can you read it over for me? This is the original here. Something from a marriage contract in the middle ages."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You trying to get me to work for free?"
"Good point. What's your price?"
She leaned across the table and kissed him firmly on the lips. "There." She took the paper from his hand and unfolded it. "Mmm. Hmm. Awwwww."
"There's a part I didn't quite get," he said. "About the laundry?"
"Linen," she murmured. She'd majored in European history, and it still emerged from time to time. "Underthings. What you wore next to your skin underneath all the - " She flapped a hand. "Velvet and brocade, if you were rich, or wool if you were poor."
"Ye Olde Fruit of the Looms," he said.
"Mmm. But it was still expensive because everything was spun and dyed and woven and sewn by hand. Cheap clothing is a really modern concept." She looked at the contract again. "This is a legally binding promise that she'll have the things she needs, always."
"Practical," he said.
"And kisses," she added. "It's a really sweet turn of phrase. Linen and kisses." She smiled over it for a moment, then looked up. "What was your translation?"
He dug in his pocket and passed it over. He tried to eat a little soup as she read it through, comparing it with the original, but had to put the spoon back in the bowl and hold his mug tightly.
She read it aloud. “I swear to protect you from poverty, to cover your back with linen and kisses, to watch over your sleep and bring you all the delights of this world as long as I walk it with you.”
Her eyes paused on the last line, spaced a little below the rest of his translation. She lifted her eyes. "This wasn't in the original."
He knew what it said without her having to read it aloud. "No," he said. "But it fits."
She looked at it again.
Jyn, will you marry me?
"I know we've only talked about it a few times," he said. "And I don't have a ring or anything. I thought you'd probably want to pick something out yourself. But I - " He gestured. "I read that. And it felt like a sign."
He didn't normally go in for signs. Neither did she. But reading that had felt like - oh, this. This is what I want. And she's who I want it with.
She set the translation on the table and he looked at it, wondering if he'd been too hasty. If she was about to let him down gently, or not very gently, or -
She got up, came around the table, and settled herself in his lap. His arms came around her instinctively, pulling her close.
"Oui," she said, smoothing her thumbs along the edge of his beard. "Need that translated?"
He let out all his breath in a rush and rested his forehead on hers. "Listillo," he muttered, and she laughed until his mouth covered hers.
The soup and the sandwiches were stone cold by the time they got back to eating them, but he found he didn't mind. She smiled at him over her soup, clearly not minding it either.
"So you'll cover my back with linen, will you," she said.
"And kisses," he said, stretching over the table to press one to her lips. "Don't forget the kisses."
FINIS
#Jyn Erso#Cassian Andor#rebelcaptain#mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name#rebelcaptain fluffbruary#star wars#search your feelings you know it to be queue
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liebestraum [park jisung]
if anyone asked park jisung if he believed in ghosts, he would say yes– for he saw longing grow legs and follow him.
pairing: park jisung x fem! reader
genre: summer break au. coming of age, slice of life, angst, fluff
warnings: mentions of parents' divorce, swearing
word count: 11k (11.190)
playlist: liebestraum - franz liszt / the gold - phoebe bridgers / our summer - txt / could cry just thinking about you - troye sivan / burning love - elvis presley / if not for you - maneskin / we'll never have sex - leith ross / christmas kids - roar / raindrops (an angel cried) - ariana grande / ceilings - lizzy mcalpine / the loneliest - maneskin / about you - the 1975
a/n: this is mainly for you, liebestraum anon <3 thank you so much for being the most supportive friend, i really enjoy talking with you. hope the wait was worth it and hope the fic doesn't disappoint. i think that if it wasn't for you, this fic would never see the light of day HAHA
Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the vinyl his aunt popped into the record player just a few minutes prior to leaving the room to get some tea for the guests that are arriving soon, Park Jisung wishes for the ground to swallow him whole and for the ceiling to fall down and bury him in the deepest depths of this house. His head starts to spin as he dives in deeper to the music, the classical tunes almost making him overthink more than he has before. He wonders what would happen if he just left the room, left his aunt’s house and ran away so far no one could ever find him.
He finds himself fantasizing about stuff like this a lot lately. Listening to classical music– because of course his aunt listens to music from the 19th century, she’s almost as old as the composers themselves– he wonders what came through the mind of the author of the song when he wrote such trivial melodies.
Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the vinyl his aunt popped into the player just a few minutes prior to leaving the room to get some tea for the guests that are arriving soon, Park Jisung drifts away to a soft slumber, deep enough to make him more tired, but light enough to wake him up when the doorbell rings and the obnoxious laughter of his dear aunt pierces through his ears.
His aunt wakes him up with a screech. Frankly, it hasn’t been that long since he’s fallen asleep and he truly doesn’t really know if it was his position on the floor that made her scream, or the fact that he’s embarrassing her in front of the guests by sleeping on the floor in the living room, but nonetheless, he’s quick to stand up and bow to the guests, trying hard to be respectful.
His aunt nervously chews on the inside of her cheek. Her smile is a little too forced when she introduces all of them to him, but he tries hard to ignore the fact that she looks like an utter clown, pretending her house is a beautiful, welcoming shrine, because laughing out loud at her antics would surely do him no good. See, Jisung doesn't like to anger his aunt. It’s not that he doesn't enjoy the silent treatment she gives him, finally letting him breathe in the quiet– the feeling of suffocating escaping him for once in a while– but he simply just doesn’t enjoy it when she only glares at him and doesn’t speak more words than a single sentence announcing when the dinner’s ready. It only serves to make him feel more alienated.
“Jisung, these are my friends from university,” his aunt recites, sounding rehearsed, and he bets she acted out the scene in her head a thousand times before falling asleep last night, so it’s all perfect when the actual moment happens in real life, “their names are Jinyoung and Nayeon, they met in university and got married a few years later.”
He hums, scamming the adults from head to toe, noticing the neat way they present themselves. He wonders if this is how his parents looked to strangers when they used to visit their old friends. The truth is, they never looked as neat and as in tune with each other as this couple does in his eyes– but maybe he just wasn’t able to perceive them this way due to the image he made of their marriage when they were at home.
Eyes traveling to the person behind them, the fringe falling to their forehead, he gets captivated by a mysterious look in their orbs, hands hidden in the pockets of their jacket. Jisung’s not too sure if his aunt caught him staring at the unintroduced guest– now, he will admit that he stared at the person, for they were a stranger to him and for no other reason– but he know for sure that they did, from how they squint their eyes at Jisung and offer him a teasing smile.
“Oh, and this is Y/N,” his aunt says, nudging the person closer to his nephew, as if to present a thing meant to solve all of his problems, “their child. They are staying for the summer, so I expect you two to hang out often, since you’re the same age and all!”
Looking at his aunt, a dead look mirroring his eyes, he hears the person– you– with a voice sweet but a little prickly, just like the smell of a Christmas tree his family used to have in their living room during December, ask a question that is easily able to beat him down to the ground in one second, despite not really knowing you long enough to be this affected by a single strand of words plastered together.
“Does this mean we have to be friends?” you say, eyeing his aunt. Jisung doesn't know if you two have met before, because he himself hasn’t been around his aunt this often, but the familiarity in your eyes tells him that this shouldn’t be your first time being around his aunt. He has no way of proving it, and since he doesn't care enough to ask, he may never actually know.
“That’s- that’s not what I was hinting at, but I’m sure you two would make good friends!” his aunt chirps, making him suddenly wonder if her friends even agreed on letting their child spend time with a boy they just saw for the first time, sleeping on the floor of his aunt’s living room. He doesn’t think his aunt actually cares about their opinion, though. He thinks she just desperately wants him out of the house sometimes. Truth be told, he doesn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault that he had to suddenly waddle into her house, eat her food and sleep in the spare bedroom for the summer– if he was in his aunt’s shoes, he’d want his comfort back as well. She didn’t ask for this. And he doesn’t even know why she agreed in the first place. “You are quite similar and have a lot in common, is what I meant,” his aunt finishes, and Jisung cringes under her gaze, because in reality, how could she even know?
A sigh escapes your lips, eyes rolling as you look over at your parents and snicker. “Am I at least getting paid for hanging out with this loser?”
“Y/N, watch your mouth!” your mother snaps, an apologetic look in her eyes.
Truth is, though, the comment doesn’t affect him. At least not in the way it should– it doesn’t offend him, it doesn’t hurt. Instead, he grins, looking you dead in the eyes, already liking the foreign excitement in his bones that dares to make his life feel much more lively than it has while he was locked up in the spare bedroom of his aunt’s house.
“I’m Park Jisung.”
Your lips widen into a cheshire grin, Jisung’s surroundings suddenly disappearing into thin air, the adults in their own universe now, not heard of and not seen. Staring you into your eyes for a heartbeat, another few words escape his mouth as a premise, unknowingly setting the tone for the two of you already.
“Let’s hang out. Show me around. If I have fun, you get a tenner. If it sucks, you’re not getting paid for being friends with me. Deal?”
He doesn’t know if it was the money on the line, or if you saw something in him that interested you enough to keep on giving in. And after all this time, he doesn't think he’ll get an answer– it’s too far out of his reach, too far back in history. But somehow, in that moment, you took his hand and shook it, starting off something that made Park Jisung who he is today. The contact of your hand with his felt like electricity to the boy, the sudden courage disappearing right as he feels the softness of your palm, and when your eyes lock, he physically feels his knees buckle under him– that’s the effect you have on the boy.
Your roles are soon reversed when you’re brought back into reality by an adult’s voice, your hands losing contact as you break away, looking at your mother with a glare in your eyes.
“Look, Ms Park has a piano! Go and play something for us, sweetie.”
A pained sigh escapes your lips, seemingly already knowing you won’t get out of this no matter how hard you try or plead, slowly walking over to the instrument settled in the corner of the room, cracking your knuckles and humming to yourself, thinking of what song to play.
“Jisung plays too, actually!” his aunt chimes in, and he sighs, halting in his movements,
because one, he can’t play the piano, and two, the song rolling off your fingers is so beautiful, so melodic he secretly starts to hope that he did.
Park Jisung can’t believe himself in the very moment when he’s standing at the rocky beach with you, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck every few seconds in a poor attempt of calming down his nerves and the erracting beating of his heart. He’s only 18 and has no experience with girls, so he thinks this is the sheer effect of the fact that he can’t swim well and he’s afraid of embarrassing himself in front of you– he bets you’re not strong enough to bring out his drowning body out of the depths of the lake anyways, so it really must be fear that’s holding him down from undressing in front of you and jumping into the refreshing water.
“Come on, Park Jisung, what are you waiting for?” you jab at him, a sharp finger pointing straight to his ribs. Your top is already off, a peach-colored bikini top catching Jisung’s attention that he instantly averts and focuses on the shiny water instead, worried he’d get caught if his eyes lingered a bit more. Again, Park Jisung is only 18 and he barely leaves the house– the only girl in a bikini he’s ever seen were the actors in the movies he watched on TV or the characters in the anime he once binged watched in the middle of the night, and those curves were drawn-on, on top of that. He doesn’t know what to do around a girl, and holding a conversation is suddenly that harder when his eyes keep drifting towards your body.
“I- I can’t really swim,” he mumbles out, another set of scratching his neck taking place, the slowly burning skin on the sharp sun making him shift in discomfort.
“Fuck’s sake,” a curse escapes your mouth, the word catching the poor boy off-guard even more, since he’s not used to anyone speaking in that tone around him– with the exception of his parents when they argue, of course, but he’d rather not bring up the memory– and his big eyes scan you again, surprised and almost a little worried of your next actions, “well, I’m not getting 10 pounds this way, am I? Didn’t know the uptown boy can’t swim…” you mutter under your breath before you shake your head in disbelief and shrug off your shorts, throwing the clothing towards the beach towel sprawled out on the shore.
Now, Jisung tries really really hard not to look at your bum. That would be really embarrassing– truly humiliating– and he’s a gentleman, of course. And it doesn’t make it better that the whole journey here, you were rambling about your day and about how bored you are in this little village, and he found the scrunch of your nose so adorable, because now he has the crushing reality dawning up on him that he’s 18 and finally having a sexual awakening. No, he won’t stare at your body. He’s simply not allowed.
“What are you waiting for? Are you gonna go into the water in your clothes?” you ask again, looking him up and down when he doesn’t move.
“Oh, I was just thinking I could… you know, stay here and hang out by myself until you’re done swimming, or something…” he says, and the more words that spill out of his mouth, the more embarrassed he feels, because your gaze suddenly locks with his and you seem so amused by his rambling, you find his words so hilarious, he doesn’t miss a heartbeat before he sighs more-so to himself and takes off his shirt, clearing his throat awkwardly when he finds you staring at his naked skin.
“Glad you got the memo,” you muster up, shaking your head in disbelief and tying your hair up into a neat bun. “I swear it’s not that deep from the corners, you’re not gonna drown. Your aunt would kick my head off if I left you here to fry,” you mumble and Jisung hates how it sounds like you’re truly only here because you have to, because the more seconds he spends staring into your eyes trying to predict your next move, the more he wishes you were here because you were only slightly interested in spending time with the new kid in the village– him.
“Alright,” he mumbles, and when he’s finally only in his swimming suit, taking cautious steps and following you towards the water, he finds his anxiety levels rising, because the truth is, he’s never swam in a lake before. Sure, he’s been in pools– but those aren’t so scary. He can almost always feel the bottom of it under his feet and he knows they don’t get as deep. Surely, there is a little to no possibility of him drowning in a swimming pool. Lakes, however, are a different thing. He can’t reach the bottom, and if he does, the surface is disgusting and slippery and won’t help him to his feet– if he really got too stiff and panicked, he could die. And that’s perhaps what scares him the most as he takes the first step on the slick rock at the very edge of the water, the slight stumble of his feet only making him more aware of the reality that’s in front of him.
“You’re such a scaredy cat,” you tease him when you look at him from behind your shoulder, a grin on your face acting like a sucker punch towards Jisung’s gut. And the truth is, he’d be more relaxed if you just gave him a minute– to collect his thoughts, calm his erracting heartbeat as he’d tell himself that there’s nothing to worry about and that the water here truly isn’t as deep yet and the worst thing that could happen is that he lands on his ass, but you don’t give him a chance to do so as your hand slips into his– trying to steady him, as you walk deeper into the water.
Your soft hand in his, fingers intertwined, he finds himself holding on to you like a lifeline– because in his tragic imagination, you might as well be one– and the beating of his heart only gets faster when he gets painfully aware of the sweat pooling in the palms of his hand and the very apparent hesitance in his step. If you notice it, you don’t mention it– to which Jisung’s equal parts surprised and glad, and suddenly, his figure is waist-level in the water before he even has a chance to register it and your hand lets go of his, the momentarily hypnotization of your hold escaping him when he has to face you as he stands still in the cool liquid.
You’re staring at him with a flashy smile, expecting eyes waiting for him to react to you in any way– and when nothing comes, you must realize that he’s too starstrucked by your appearance to muster up anything coherent enough.
“You alright there?”
He finds himself nodding, a hum escaping his throat to accompany his response. It’s not enough for you, though, and the truth is, Park Jisung should’ve been prepared for this, since even the two days of knowing you must be enough to get to know the true intentions of your actions– because you tease him again, and even though the boy gets sulky easily, he doesn’t seem to find himself paying it much mind.
“A cat got your tongue?” you snicker, shaking your head at him.
For a second, Jisung debates on acting dumb– maybe more silence or a shrug of his shoulders would rile you up more, get you more annoyed– but he should’ve learned already that you’re always one step ahead of him, in more cases than one, when a splash of cold water hits his heated skin, making him hiss in shock.
Your laughter fills his ears as he watches you stand still in front of him, presumably not expecting much threat from the boy that’s barely able to move in the lake, but the angelic look on your face acts like a dopamine kick for the boy, vitamin D flowing through his veins as he reacts to your teasing with another splash of water, feet delicately chasing you around the lake, screeches coming out your throat like music to his ears on the sunny summer afternoon.
The water fight ends with him tripping over a stone as he tries to run away from you, and the shock on your face is evident– Jisung finds himself feeling endearment at the hint of you worrying about him– when you rush towards the boy and lean over his body sitting in the water, Jisung’s worst-case scenario coming to life right in front of your eyes.
“Are you okay?” you ask, a hand offered to him to get him back up on his feet.
And Jisung takes it, only to tug you down towards him, his body shielding you from the impact, but still hitting the ice-cold water of the lake. With your face only centimeters away from his, your annoyed, yet amused face causing him to grin, he finds himself laughing at your next remark.
“I take it as today’s worthy of a tenner then, Park Jisung. Having too much fun, aren’t you?”
To Park Jisung, summer feels like sleep and the humid air in his little room back home. He’s never really been anywhere on vacations or holidays, because frankly, with his father’s nature and his mother’s low income job, there wasn’t really much space to go somewhere and explore what it’s like to enjoy the summer heat instead of constantly angrily swearing at the weather. For that matter, Park Jisung never really enjoyed summer. He was always locked up in that small room, sometimes listening to his parents’ arguing– which he so desperately tried to ignore every time, but his heart did that weird hammering each time his father broke a glass or his mother raised her voice a bit louder than usual– and when his parents weren’t arguing, the house would be too quiet, making him overthink.
To Park Jisung, summer feels like overslept afternoons and boredom. He doesn’t know any better, and he would even pity himself, but the truth is, he thinks that’s embarrassing. People have it worse, after all– he’s just a teenager with no life purpose. Just like any other, right?
So when Jisung arrives at his aunt’s place for the summer– no longer having to listen to his parents’ arguing, because after 18 years of his life, they finally decided to call it quits and drag their son to the only relative he vaguely knows for the time being, until they figure everything out– he expects nothing more from the old house than what he experienced his whole growing up. He expects overslept afternoons and sweaty pajamas clinging to his back, humid air everywhere and the weird hollowness in the pit of his stomach.
To his surprise– and believe me, he didn’t really expect this at all– the summer before university is completely different, and he’s pleased with the change.
He wakes up late one afternoon, because he doesn’t expect anything exciting to happen in the time he spends asleep anyway, and when he drags his feet to the kitchen, body tense and hurting from the weird positions he found himself sleeping in, his mind is instantly sweeped of all the haziness when he founds your figure in his aunt’s house, laughing at the radio host babbling through the device.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” his aunt greets him from the corner of the room, and he’s suddenly too aware of his bed hair and the fact that his clothing is all wrinkled and his face is puffy, because he feels your eyes on him and he hates to know that you see him in such state. Not that he’s any eye candy any other day, of course– he just thinks you could’ve seen him in a more presentable light, that’s all.
“G’morning,” he mutters as he scratches the back of his neck and looks around the room, trying to grasp the events of 1PM– barely morning anymore.
“If you woke up earlier, you could’ve gone with us,” his aunt chirps in from the stove, swirling something sweet-smelling in a big pot. Her face is fawned over with a glaze of sweat and even the wide-open window does nothing to get the air to clear out– Jisung thinks that’s just the magic of summer. It’s always too hot, and the only thing you can do is complain.
“Where did you go?”
“To the forest,” you smile at him, seeing as he takes a few hesitant steps towards your figure, “we picked berries and now your aunt’s making jam. A classic village-like summer activity, don’t ya think?” you chirp, tugging your hair behind your ear as you pick through the big bowl and put away the berries that don’t look as good, choosing to not include them in the jam.
Jisung hums in agreement, still a little confused, as he takes another few steps around the room. Looking over his aunt’s shoulder, he sees the blood colored liquid boiling at the stove, the air even sweeter right above the steam, and he suddenly wonders if this is today’s activity. Looking over his shoulder at you, dressed in shorts and a tank top, he shrugs to himself– if it means that you’ll be over at his house the whole time the jam’s being made, he doesn’t mind helping out in the kitchen.
“Can you wash these?” you ask, pointing towards the bowl full of berries. He nods to your order and takes it over to the sink, carefully splashing water over the fruit and making sure each piece is clean– he doesn’ want to embarrass himself in front of you. Frankly, he doesn’t know what’s going on or how exactly jam is made, but you seem like you’re a regular in those activities– he doesn’t want you to think he’s a city guy with no knowledge of how the world works. Because that’s kind of true, but you don’t have to know that.
Bringing the bowl over to the table again, he watches as you look up at him from the next bowl you’re currently sorting through, raising your brows in question at his stare. The boy almost wants to look away from being caught, but he figures it’s too late anyway, so he challenges you and waits for you to jab at him or roll your eyes.
Instead, you pick up one berry from the bowl and press it up against his lips, an innocent smile playing with your features as you wait for him to eat it, looking at him with expecting eyes.
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely magical,” Jisung replies, overly-exaggerated, seeing you grin. He steals himself another berry from the bowl, escaping from the playful slap you want to give to the palm of his hand, before he sits on the chair opposite of yours, silently watching you doing your task.
“Now, today’s events might not be as exciting, so you can save your next 10 pounds, but once your aunt’s hands get tired, you can take over and stir the jam while it cooks,” you explain, teasing him with your little inside joke– you’re not actually getting paid for hanging out with him. Not really, although Jisung did buy you ice cream on your way home from the lake the other day. So in a way, you are. Just not with real money.
“So fun!” he says, watching you as you roll your eyes.
The truth is, he doesn’t care much about what he does during the day. As long as you’re present, he’s satisfied.
To Park Jisung, summer feels like overslept afternoons, his little humid room back home and boredom. This afternoon, the smell of berries, the sound of the radio and your bubbly laugh when you tease him joins the mix– and he thinks those overpower the grudge he has against the season with such measures he prays every day feels like summer from now on.
The room is kind of chilly when Jisung rests his back against the tall bookshelf– the side of the furniture, so the shelves aren’t uncomfortable against his back– eyes glued to the pages of the book. He finds himself too immersed in the story to notice anyone coming into his aunt’s living room, too occupied with the sentences to hear the shuffling of your feet as you drag your legs across the house. His aunt always lets you in with no questions– you only knock on the door and smile at her when she opens it, slickly jumping inside and finding who you’re looking for in one of the few rooms of the house– more often than not, you catch Park Jisung off guard, but he is starting to get used to the euphoric surprise.
Jisung is an avid reader. He’s liked books since he was little, and it was the only thing he found himself spending money on growing up. When the amount of books he could read in one month became too big for him to keep buying more and more prints, his mother took him to the town to get him his own library card.
After looking through the bookshelf in his aunt’s house, he was surprised– and a little annoyed– at the fact that there were only romance books in store. He already finished the copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he brought with himself when his parents sent him off, and he didn’t really think of bringing more. Finding his aunt’s bookshelf was like finding a treasure, only if the contents weren’t so disappointing. Still, a romance book is better than no book, he thinks, as he picks a familiar one up and sits on the floor, immersing himself into the story.
“What are you reading?” he suddenly hears, head snapping up to see you watching him from above, eyes skimming through the words.
“A book,” he responds, voice low, before his eyes are back on the pages.
“I can see that, genius,” you snicker, situating yourself next to him and resting your back against the bookshelf, “what book is it?” you pry more, and even though you are almost always the main object of Park Jisung’s attention and thoughts, this time, you are set to the second place as he continues to read the novel.
You are rewarded with silence, a thing that makes your brows furrow and a sigh escape your lips. You’re not used to this kind of treatment, it seems, and when the interested teenager doesn’t give you his time of the day, you have no other choice but to ask for it yourself, no matter how embarrassing it might feel. You’re okay with biting it down– you know he won’t try to tease you about it anyways.
“Jisung, give me attention,” you simply say, jabbing your finger to his thigh.
“I’m reading.”
“I came to visit you!” you act offended, an over-exaggerated sigh escaping your lips.
“I didn’t ask you to,” Jisung mumbles, still reading through the pages, although his focus is now a little thrown-off.
Giving yourself a few seconds to think, chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. “Okay, then. Read it out loud, so I’m entertained too.”
“It’s the middle of the book, Y/N–”
“Come on, I read The great Gatsby before anyway,” you say as you nestle a little in your place, resting your back flush against the shelf again, “read for me so we don’t sit in silence,” you order.
Jisung spares you a glance, a second of eye contact enough for him to be convinced, huffing before he averts his eyes back to the book and clears his throat, reading aloud.
He doesn’t like to be the center of attention. He doesn’t like it when everyone’s eyes are on him and he feels them watching, he absolutely despises the fact that he’s the only thing you’re focused on as he reads through the words and his voice shakes a little at each passage. He feels his face heartening and sweat slowly forming on his forehead, each of his fingertips tingling with the fact that he’s the only thing you’re paying attention to right now, your only object of interest.
“He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete,” he reads, and when he feels your head resting on his shoulder, your soft hair tickling the sensitive skin of his neck, he almost jumps out of his own skin and crawls under the ground, because somewhere along the way, he admits in shame, in his imagination, you turned into the main character.
Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the vinyl you popped into the record player just a few minutes prior to leaving the room to get some tea from his aunt, Park Jisung no longer wishes for the ground to swallow him whole and for the ceiling to fall down and bury him in the deepest depths of this house. He listens deeply to the music– the loud guitars and the ringing of the drums, so dearly reminding him of the beating of his own heart that involuntarily matches the song somewhere between the verse and the chorus– and when you slip back inside, carrying a tray with two mugs in the very middle, Jisung’s eyes unconsciously watch you as you walk through the space. It’s a weird parallel that makes him snicker.
“Why are you just laying here?” you nudge him with your leg, his figure limp on the floor. “We didn’t come here to lay around, little boy.”
“Just give me a few more minutes,” he hums as he nods, looking at you from below, the curves of your face and the glow on the tips of your cheekbones making his heartbeat stummer for just a beat, an excited glint in his stomach making itself known when you grin at him and your eyes bear into his with an uncertain feeling of mischief and playfulness.
“Are you mentally preparing, or something?”
“Something like that,” he admits, sighing to himself when you offer him a hand and beg him to stand up with your eyes, your skin soft under his touch when he hosts himself up and stands aimlessly in the middle of the room.
You stand in front of him, stiff, for only a few seconds. The eye contact you share makes Jisung feel electrified, but he doesn’t find himself averting his gaze– he’s too scared that you’d find him cowardly, or too shy to meet your glances. And even though it might be true and your whole existence is of exciting importance to the boy, he doesn’t want to show it to you so bluntly, so he chooses to bury those hints and stand his ground, waiting for you to look away first. He didn’t expect you to take it as a challenge– but when his still body annoys you a bit too much, he earns himself a bump to his shoulder, the contact of your tightened fist making him break into a victorious grin.
“Move!”
Jisung takes a step to his left, seeing as you roll your eyes at his teasing manner– normally you’re the one taking the lead in playful banter, but he’s feeling bold today, energized with whatever spirit– and you notice, hating the way he has the upper hand over you for once, deciding to once again take the matters to your own hands and lead him through the situation, grabbing him by his hand and strongly pulling him towards either side of the room, rolling your hips in your place and jumping around, laughing when he doesn’t seem to obey your strategy.
“Jisung-ah! You promised,” you pout, the soft demand in your tone making the boy sigh in defeat and roll his eyes at you, because if you’re good at something, it’s using your words and taking advantage of his weakness for you. And so he does what you want him to, finally holding you more firmly when his hands miraculously find your waist and he dances with you to the rock music– jumping around and twirling the two of you in the middle of the room, because there aren’t many dance moves you can do to this kind of music unless you’re really skilled– and there it is, the wide grin settling onto your face, like a sweet, sweet reward to the boy.
Because even though you really wanted to have fun with Jisung– to get the promised tenner, you said– your mum didn’t let you go to the party in town, no matter how hard you pleaded and tried to reason with her that Jisung’s gonna be there with you to protect you. His aunt knew better than to believe the claim– if there’s someone needing protection, it’s her nephew, and being the one that’s supposed to do the job might be too much pressure for the poor boy.
And when you pouted and mourned about the fact while breaking the news to Jisung yesterday afternoon, he found himself promising you that you can have your own party at his house, dancing around and having even more fun listening to his aunt’s outdated records and drinking chamomile tea that’s surely better than whatever alcohol they are serving in the town.
He’s not a good dancer. The music is not his cup of tea. But hearing your laughter piercing through his eardrums whenever he dips you down or does a silly dance solo just to impress you with his playfulness, he finds himself being content.
He hasn’t laughed this hard in a long while. He says it’s because of your outrageous ideas.
Deep inside, though, he knows it’s because of your sole presence.
“You already finished The Great Gatsby?” you ask, your soft voice cutting through the solemn wind. Jisung glances up at you from his spot next to your figure, the two of you sitting under the tree behind his house, silence enveloping you two like a blanket, only disturbed by the chirping of birds and cicadas in the distance.
He nods. “I’m a fast reader,” he snickers.
“You must have liked the book,” you mumble, your head falling to his shoulder as you nestle in your place a little, the book in your lap still open as you engage in the conversation with him. You’re wearing a summer dress, your bruised knees on full display, and something about the air smelling like strawberries makes him think and wonder of the fact that this feels a little too much like a date, but he’s too afraid to let the thought ring out loud.
“Not really,” he states, “I don’t like romance novels.”
“You don’t?” you ask, the statement taking you off guard.
“No.”
“Why?”
“They’re not realistic,” he mutters under his nose.
“You don’t believe in love?” you ask, your eyes locking with his in a curious manner. The more he bears his eyes into yours, the more he watches as the glimmers in your orbs swim around and hypnotize him, the more he wishes he could say yes, the more he yearns to tell you that he does, he always has and he always will believe in love, but smiling to himself, more out of despair than out of anything, he shakes his head in disapproval and sees the shadow casting over your face, breaking him.
“Why?” you ask, the tone of your voice almost hurt, as if it was a question of life and death.
“Because… it doesn’t seem real. It’s all an illusion, a chemical reaction, even, it’s- it’s not forever, you know? It messes with your brain and makes you feel dizzy for a while, and then after a while, you realize you don’t feel the same anymore and it was all just a lack of judgment. I don’t think love exists,” he says, “or at least, I don’t think it can last.”
Your eyes watch him with a newly found sense, something in your brain turning fast as you chew on the inside of your cheek, and he can see it in your eyes– you want to disagree with him, you want to tell him that he’s stupid and silly and he doesn’t know anything, he’s just too burdened with what’s going on in his life and that he judges everything by the image of love that was fed to him by his parents; the love that didn’t last, the love that didn’t exist– but you don’t say anything along those lines, maybe in a quiet understanding, knowing it won’t change his mind, knowing it’s not your place to tell him otherwise.
Instead, you only bear your eyes back into the pages of your book and sigh. “I disagree. Because, Jisung, tell me,” you say, sighing before you continue, “how could it not be real, when everyone writes about it? When everyone sings about it, yearns for it and so desperately wants it? How could it not last when this book is older than any of us, yet it’s still considered one of the most trivial parts of romance?”
He watches you from above, the crown of your head now in his point of view when he listens to your voice. “You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how,” you read, “isn’t that beautiful, Jisung? Isn’t that love? Don’t tell me it’s all an illusion.”
Your eyes don’t meet his when you speak those words. Not able to focus back on his own reading, he becomes painfully aware of your head on his shoulder again, the soft tickling of your hair against his neck– and he finds himself thinking that if love is an illusion, a chemical reaction, a lack of judgment, even– if love doesn’t last, if it’s all just a drunkenness that makes him dizzy, he doesn’t mind.
At the end of the day, what matters might just be the present moment. And if this doesn’t last, he’s content with how he’s feeling for you now– even though it might fizzle out, he’s grateful for the things you’ve taught him.
Park Jisung’s summer is filled with him staring at you in your summer dress, with him watching you when you ramble on and on about something that makes barely any sense in his brain, with you dancing around the room and playing the piano in his aunt’s living room, the melodies sometimes lullying him to dreams filled with your scent and your voice calling from him when he wakes from his slumber.
Your face is the image that fills his brain when he thinks of sunny days, and somewhere along the way, he stopped trying to conceal the subtle infatuation he has over you, for you no longer tease him for his gentle stares and allow him to admire you in silence.
Today, much like all other days, he finds himself in your company. Sitting in the meadow, side by side– you convinced him he’d like the sight, but he finds himself watching you smile instead– the smell of strawberries fills his nose when you take out your lip balm and put it on, your soft lips suddenly glistening with the moisture, a pinkish tint like a subtle overlay over your smile. Indulged into the motion, Jisung can’t seem to look away, and he could play it off as him so desperately wanting to know if the lip balm tastes as delicious as it smells, but suddenly, all he can think about it how he wants to kiss you and how if he doesn’t look away soon, he won’t be able to control the urge.
But Jisung’s always been too weak when it comes to you. Eyes glued to your lips, still talking about philosophical themes the boy could never wrap his mind around, never in a million years, the stream of words is suddenly cut off your lips when he presses his against them, tasting the sweetness off your skin. And his suspicions were correct– the lip balm is as tasty as it smells, yet, even better than he could expect, tasting more of strawberries dipped in honey– but in his mind, the sweetness you and not the lip balm, and when your palm meets his cheek and holds him in place, he feels close to falling apart right in your hold, a fragile pot full of love and affection for you only, eyes pressed shut from nerves.
He doesn’t think he’s a good kisser. It’s his first time and he never really thought about the action before– never had the opportunity or the right person to prompt the thought into his head. He tries hard to ignore the thought of him being bad at the action, because he doesn’t want to ruin this memory for himself, and as you pull away for a heartbeat and then press yourself into him once more, he finds himself forgetting the time, space and the whole universe– there’s only you, you, you.
And he could lie to himself and convince himself that he kissed you just to taste the strawberries on his tongue, but it’s far from the simple reality– he kissed you just to kiss you.
Not thinking of the future this holds to him, not thinking of the fact that one day, you’ll have to say goodbye. Not thinking of much more, not expecting any difference in your dynamic. Deep down, he doesn’t even really want things to change– he likes the stillness, the security it holds. He kissed you just to kiss you– it was that simple. The desire was too strong to hold back. It was gentle, it was sweetness, and he found himself wondering how come it took him such a while.
Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room with you, listening to the silence ringing in his ears and making his brain wander, Park Jisung wishes for the ground to swallow him whole and for the ceiling to fall down and bury him in the deepest depths of this house. He hasn’t felt like this in a while, too enchanted with your presence to realize the weight of the situation, too immersed in the blissful unknowingness than paying attention to the stresses that even brought him to his aunt’s house in the first place, but his head starts to spin as he dives in deeper to his thoughts, letting the fear swallow him. He once again wonders what would happen if he just left the room, left his aunt’s house and ran away so far no one could ever find him– it’s a familiar tale now, but he’s never really quite reached the end.
“What are you thinking about?” your voice breaks him out of the tense slumber, his eyes growing wide as he snaps his head to watch you next to him, your orbs filled with tender care and worry. The outside world is slowly turning into a little less vibrant one, the summer nights growing colder with the undeniable fact of the season ending soon, autumn taking its place and Park Jisung’s own departure slowly burning at the tips of his toes.
He doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s inevitable. Maybe he should pay it more mind.
“Home,” he mumbles, squinting his eyes as he turns his head back straight and watches the spiderwebs in the corner, the weight of his words making the atmosphere thicker. “It’s not gonna be the same,” he adds, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
The silence doesn’t go away as your hand envelopes his, your fingers playing with his in a calming manner, yet still having a playful aura to it as you tug on the joints of his fingers and wave them around in the air, eyes focused on the way his palm fits into yours. “Isn’t that a good thing?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” he answers.
And it’s true. He doesn’t know– fights and anger and bad temper is all he’s ever known, all he’s ever been used to. The silent treatment and the petty arguments are what raised him, and now that it’s gone, he wonders if it’s gonna make him feel better. The truth is, sometimes, feeling like this can feel essential. It feels safe to be so miserable, for when the bright times of him and his parents being okay and getting along happened, he’s always felt unsure, like the storm was about to happen each time; like he couldn’t be happy for long, because it felt uncomfortably unsafe, having the hunch that it’s gonna get bad again any time. Feeling numb was safe. It couldn’t get worse than that– it’s what made him comfortable with his sadness.
And if it’s true that it’s gonna be better now, just because his parents are gonna be separated and they’re not gonna be in contact, is it really okay for him to feel happy about that? Is it really the end? The calm after the storm of his childhood and growing up? And is it okay to feel secure in loneliness? To feel okay with seeing his mother wither away and his dad turning to alcohol every time he visits him in his new house? Because he can picture it now– he sees it clear as day, that this is how the situation’s gonna end up, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing.
“It’s gonna be okay,” you mumble, a poor attempt at soothing the boy.
He finds it hard to believe you. Sometimes he thinks you know everything– you’ve seen so much and taught him so much and told him so much about the world. But can you really know anything about a situation you’ve never encountered?
Still, his hopeless heart swells at your words, the comfort of your hand in his guarding him to reality. He thinks he made you up sometimes– he longed for something to comfort him so hard and for so long that the longing grew legs and followed him around, brightened up his withering days.
“I’m scared to come home,” he whispers, the tone barely audible in the so still room. He’s scared of what he’ll find. Sometimes he thinks he’s scared of the silence, for he was brought up in violent screams and doors always left a bit open– just in case. Is it going to be fine for him to find peace after the violence?
You lean up and watch the boy with eyes bigger than the whole universe, a soft smile playing with your features when your fingers trail the curve of his cheek. Jisung watches your lips and dreams of them on his, but there’s no use when you only trace the arch of his cupid's bone with the pad of your thumb, voice barely louder than a whisper, as if confiding him in a secret. “You’re gonna be okay.”
And with that, you’re gone. Like a dream. Your touch fades and your scent is forcefully dragged away from his nose.
After a few seconds, you play the piano for him again. He recognizes the song to be the same one you played on the first day you two met– and he wonders if it’s your favorite, or if you just don’t know how to play anything as well. The melody is often slow, romantic and idyllic, but builds into an intense complexity. Towards the end, the initial melody returns, bringing a sense of resolution and tranquility. He doesn’t know the name of the song– he’s never heard of it before meeting you– but in his soul, the feelings of love, longing and enchantment remain as he listens to the harmonies and passionate melody.
Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the song you play for him on the piano, so many words unsaid but hanging in the air, Park Jisung closes his eyes and feels a stray tear rolling down his cheek. The air smells of autumn when the breeze flows into the room through the open window, making the hairs on his arm stand up in attention, and his head starts to spin as he dives in deeper to the music, the classical tunes almost making him overthink more than he has before. He wonders what will happen if you left the room right now. If he’ll ever find you, wherever you are.
Laying on the floor of his aunt’s living room, listening to the song you play for him on the piano, so many words unsaid but hanging in the air, Park Jisung closes his eyes and lets himself fall into a soft slumber, the same way he did the first time you walked through the door to his life. During the sleep, he dreams of love.
Park Jisung opens his eyes on the last day of summer and feels coldness seeping into his bones. It’s not cold yet, the season hasn’t even ended, but there’s something about the aura of the morning that makes him crawl in his own skin and dread the day in front of him. After today, he’s supposed to come back home– he’s going to leave everything the summer taught him behind, in this little village, with his aunt he’s grown to adore more than he initially thought he could. It’s kind of depressing, if you really think about it, but Jisung would rather not think at all.
He sits up on the bed, burrowing his head into his palms and huffs heavily at the thoughts running through his brain. He’s not a morning person, sure, but he thinks perhaps his sudden mood change is the result of something completely else– something he doesn’t yet know and can’t quite put his finger on, can’t quite name.
Standing up and walking out of his room, naked feet in contact with the hardwood floor, the clique of the door feels unusually cold against his hand when he reaches for it, opening it and getting ready to face the day. He hasn’t said goodbye to you yet, but he knows he’ll have to today. It’s the last opportunity before he walks out of summer break for real, the last opportunity to see your smile and to hold you in his arms like he always yearned for whenever you were in his close proximity.
Yet, as he gets ready to take the first step out of the room, his feet come to contact with something sharp, a block-like object waiting for him outside of the door. Squinting below his toes, he finds a book on the hard tiles, picking it up and moving it closer up towards his nose. Reading over the title and the author’s name, his heart drops to his stomach, an unreasonable feeling of fear settling in his fingertips as he turns the page and reads through the contents, something scribbled on the first, worn-out page of the book catching his attention.
To my Jisung. Think of me when you read through the pages. You said you didn’t like romance novels, but I know you’re secretly a sucker for them. Always in your heart, Y/N.
A kiss mark in bright red is settled below the inscription, the lipstick stain he rarely ever seen you wear does nothing else than makes his heartbeat quicken and his fear intensify. He doesn’t have it confirmed yet, but in the depths of his mind and soul, he already knows– he knows it’s too late and you didn’t say goodbye before you left.
Still, his feet act before his brain does, his blurry vision ignored when he runs out of his aunt’s house and makes a jog towards the one you were staying at through the summer break. He puts on the first pair of shoes he finds at the doorstep and takes off, his aunt’s concerned yells ignored as he clutches the book to his chest, something about the beaten edges reminding him of the fact that it’s the one you always read in the shade under the single tree in the whole meadow, and it’s confirmed when he gets to your house– your parents’ car nowhere in sight, the windows shut and everything so intensely lonely.
And that’s when he allows himself to break– to fold at the grass in front of your house, to open the book and randomly find the sentence you quoted to him once, breaking his heart into a million different shatters. “You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how,” he reads, and when his eyes trail over the next pages, he sees each one annotated, words scribbled on the sides of the pages, pretty quotes underlined. You left a piece of you with him, for him to keep, and he should feel lucky, for he has something to remember you by even though you’re long gone, but he just can’t get past the melody you played on the piano replaying over and over in his brain, reminding him that
you left without a goodbye and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do once he moves back home and you’re not going to be there, and oh how badly he wishes you kissed him for the last time yesterday, for he can’t remember how your lips felt against his anymore and he fears he may never feel the way he did when he was kissed by you ever again.
Rustling through the book, there’s a lone sheet of paper tucked behind the last page. Slowly walking home, head hung low, his eyes scanning the music sheet, the title of the song sits unfamiliar on his tongue when he repeats it under his breath like a broken mantra made to bring you back.
He promises himself to learn how to play it on the piano one day, just so he could hear it again. There’s an inkling feeling in him that the song might be important.
Wobbling through the classroom, happy that the bell finally rang and he can go home, Park Jisung hears his name called from the mouth of his Creative writing professor, much to his dismay, making him stop in his tracks and follow his voice with a low sigh. It’s Friday and it’s raining outside, meaning that if he won’t catch the last tram home, he’ll have to run through the rain without an umbrella, and that really wasn’t on his checklist for the week.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he hates this class or his Creative writing professor in the slightest. It’s quite the opposite, really– this class serves good to his vivid imagination and the daydreaming he practices every night before sleeping and sometimes even when he takes a long shower. His professor is nice as well– young enough to understand the minds that are filling the classroom, only getting his master’s degree recently– but still mature enough to lead the class in a way that makes everyone respect him in a healthy way. But today, on a rainy, gray Friday, after the last class of the week, Jisung really doesn’t feel like talking to Mr Kim in the slightest.
“Did you want to talk to me about something?” Jisung asks as soon as the classroom empties itself out and he is standing face to face with his professor. The man nods, taking his glasses off and putting them onto his desk, quickly turning around to his student again and only starting to talk once he makes sure the classroom is completely empty, just to stay confidential.
“Yes, I did,” he says. Humming under his breath as he turns around again, he searches through the papers sitting on the desk, seemingly looking for the ones that belong to Jisung, and clears his breath as he faces the boy again and furrows his brows at the writing on the paper.
“Is something wrong?” Jisung asks, full of concern. The truth is that the Creative writing class is one of the only classes that maintain his grades below the lowest level– the one that gets you kicked out of the university– and the face his professor’s currently making is surely not a one that seeps of satisfaction. It’s only natural for Jisung to feel worried, because with how badly he’s doing in Physics, he surely can’t afford to get a bad grade even in a class that’s supposed to come easily to him.
“No, no,” Mr Kim shakes his head in a hurry to quickly calm his student down, “it’s just…” trailing off, his eyes swiftly moving across the letters Jisung finished writing a few weeks ago, just a day before handing the first part of his assignment in, reading the first few lines over one more time. Jisung finds himself feeling irritated and frustrated, for his professor should be the one that’s good with words, but in this situation, he feels like he’s not telling him anything.
“What is it, then?” he asks, diving straight in. If he gets it out of him now, he might even catch the last tram, as long as he runs to the tram stop…
“Look, Jisung. What I’m going to tell you now might not make you happy, but I think it’s crucial for you,” he says, looking kindly, yet still firmly at the boy, “your writing… I like it. Quite honestly, I find it phenomenal. You have a way with words that just… when you explain feelings, you go into depths and details, and I find that really interesting from a boy like you.”
Jisung doesn’t know what the premise of his words are, and the sudden praise catches him off-guard, since he thought he’s going to get scolded. Furrowing his brows and muttering low words of appreciation, his professor continues with his little ment, finally clarifying his intentions. “But I have an issue with this,” he says, pointing to the papers in his hands, meeting eyes with Jisung again, “it’s not that it’s bad. Not at all, I said what I said, I really find your writing the best in this class. However, I think it lacks something.”
Stepping from one foot to the other, Jisung chews on the inside of his cheek, confused. “And what does it lack, sir?”
“Emotion,” he deadpans, looking straight into his eyes. The words surprise him, making him furrow his brows at the explanation, mumbling in confusion.
“But… but you just said I describe emotions well?”
“That’s true, Jisung, however… Your works are full of emotion, but I don’t think those emotions are yours. You’re describing something you don’t feel, something you don’t understand, and that makes me feel like you’re trying to sell me something you’re constantly having to make yourself believe is real,” Mr Kim answers, switching his tone into a more considerate one, “I like your imagination, I like the plot, however, this all means that your writing lacks any real depth.”
Jisung gasps at the harsh words, the reality of them making him sink a little in his place. “I thought a lot about the plot and the intentions of the characters, I really don’t know what I did wrong–”
“If this was any other student in this classroom that handed in this work, I’d praise them for outdoing themselves. It’s good. It’s almost perfect, I’d say, and I mean that. But when it comes to you, Jisung…” he trails off again, trying to find the right words, “I think you can do better. I know you can do better, only if you actually cared a bit about the things you write. Did you enjoy writing this? Did you like this work?”
“I… I did- I think I do?” he stammers, answer sounding almost like a question,
Mr Kim stares at him for a while, almost as if he’s trying to make the boy realize the lies he’s telling from his own mouth right now, but when it doesn’t come, he just sighs and offers him the papers, watching the boy take them into his hold and stare at him, completely oblivious.
“Jisung, you’re writing like you have to do it. It doesn’t mean anything to you. At least this story doesn’t. And you know, I can see it in your words, it’s- you’re describing everything so deeply and so beautifully, but at the end of the day, you don’t like or care for anything you write, and that’s why it feels extraordinarily empty,” he says, watching the boys eyes widen and his lips form into a pout, nodding softly at his professor’s words.
“Does that mean… I’m gonna get a bad grade on my final assignment?” Jisung asks, lost.
Sighing, Mr Kim shakes his head and gazes at his student with eyes like an endless pool of honesty. “I want you to hand in something else. Don’t worry about getting in the deadlines, I’ll wait for you and grade this at the end of the semester. All I want is for you to write a story that means something to you. Don’t worry about the prompt, even, if that’s what’s making you feel limited. Just make me believe what you’re writing, Jisung.”
Nodding, Jisung finally understands the whole point of what his professor is telling him. Truth be told, Mr Kim is right– he does not care a bit about the story he wrote. While he can admit that he did a good job on it, he did well at writing about ghosts– the prompt for this semester’s final work (they focused on horror and mystery in literature this year)– he is ready to throw the papers into his drawer and never think of them again, for he just wrote what he was supposed to without giving it any minor significance. He might have described the emotions of the characters well, he might have used pretty words and astonishing abbreviations, but at the end of the day, if someone asked him how much the story he wrote means to him, he’d tell them that it mattered to him no more than a homework he had to complete.
“I understand, Mr Kim. I’ll… I’ll try again,” he says, nodding.
He’s rewarded by a gentle smile coming from his mentor, an expression full of understatement and honest care for his student. Taking a step back from him and leaning on the desk, the professor hints that he can go now, offering him one last sentence of condolence before he sets him out of the classroom.
“I’d hate for your talent to go to waste, Jisung.”
Smiling, although a little tight-lipped, the boy slowly walks to the door, nodding one last time before he leaves. “I’ll try not to disappoint, sir.”
The halls of the university are dark due to the stormy clouds shielding the sun from offering the light to the world. Sighing and checking the time on his phone, Jisung notices that he missed his last tram and the only way he can get home now is to jog through the pouring rain. Opening the glass door of the university building, grunting as he puts the hood of his jacket over his head, he runs through the falling raindrops, still thinking of the words his professor told him in the classroom just a few minutes ago.
Not looking in front of him as he runs, his body bumps into someone, making him utter honest, yet quick apologies as he jogs off after making sure the person is okay and didn’t drop anything, hating the way wet clothing sticks to his skin, making him feel almost a little claustrophobic. In the frantic hurry to get home as soon as possible, the boy doesn’t notice he dropped something on the floor–
the papers containing the latest story he wrote for the final assignment of his Creative writing class. Sitting in a puddle, somewhere in the middle of the street, the letters wash away with the afternoon rain, metaphorically erasing everything he wrote and didn’t care about in the past, moving him forward into a new direction.
Still, he looks behind his shoulder, ready to collect them from the ground just in case he might need them for something in the future, only to find the back of the person he just bumped into running away, a stack of white, water-stained A4 papers in their hands. Their walk is all too familiar to Jisung, the back of their head reminding him of something he’s experienced in the past, the sway of their hips and the jolt in their step making warmth erupt in his stomach at the fond memory that makes itself creep back into the boy’s head.
“It can’t be…” he mumbles.
The thought still fresh in his brain, the speculations making thoughts run around his mind faster than the speed of light, he opens up another Word document on his laptop as soon as he takes off his shoes in his mother’s new apartment, fingertips on fire. To write about something he cares for? Putting his everything into words that would mean something to him? It doesn’t seem as difficult right now.
Ghosts. The topic he found difficult to write about, for he’s never experienced anything paranormal before. He only tried to mimic everything he’s read about.
If anyone asked Park Jisung if he believed in ghosts, he’d tell them yes, however– for he has seen longing grow legs and follow him.
To write something he cares about, he decides– he’ll write about you.
He’ll write about the summer that even now, after so many months, feels like a dream.
#nct#nct dream#park jisung#nct x reader#nct angst#nct fluff#nct dream x reader#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#park jisung x reader#park jisung fluff#park jisung angst#jisung x reader#jisung angst#jisung fluff#jisung oneshot#jisung scenario#park jisung oneshot#park jisung fic#nct fic#nct dream fic
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𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 / 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨
pairing: ellie williams x afab!black!reader
tags: told from readers pov and ellies pov, alternates between third person and first person, sorta angsty, fluff at the start, basically ur dina lol, jj isnt here tho, one use of y/n, one description of reader (just hair?? i think that’s it), ellie has ALOT of inner turmoil, reader lowkey knows that tho, great music/artists (not to toot my own horn but the songs and artists mentioned are BANGERS!!!!), sorta canon typical universe, mentions of abby and tommy (not really any actual involvement in the story.. well, sorta ig), ellie refers to reader as ‘she’, and i think thats it!!
a/n: lowkey thinking abt making a part two but everytime i start a series i always end up stopping at the second chapter. 😭 anyways, ill get to finishing those other requests diligently! 😇🙏 also ignore the fact i added hella tags, its prolly like random stuff but just trust me bro its in here!!!
Ellie was acting weird. Like, really weird. After Tommy had come and gone, something shifted inside of her. Like he’d altered her brain chemistry in some strange way. She was much quieter and she was biting her nails — a habit she’d picked up whenever she was thinking or nervous. You stand in the kitchen cleaning up some dishes as a Lauryn Hill vinyl plays softly. Ellie didn’t know much about your music taste but god, did she love it. She loved lots of things about you, your cooking, learning about your culture, how you helped her broaden her outlook on the world with the lessons instilled into you by your parents and grandparents. It was something she valued above all else. You found yourself humming along to the tune of the music and occasionally mumbling the lyrics. The stairs creaked as she walked down them rather slowly. The sound of the record player being on made her wonder what you were up to. She picks up the sleeve the vinyl had been in and she reads it. “‘The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill’? You’re always listenin’ to this record. It must be your favorite then, I presume.”
She walked over to you while you were drying off a plate. “It’s a classic, Ellie. Who doesn’t like this album?” You ask as a small smile creeps onto your face. She’d always made you smile, but it now just seemed like she was trying to deter you from the fact that something had obviously been going on in her mind. She leans against the counter, looking over her shoulder at the setting sun. She hadn’t said anything as she alternates between looking at the sunset, you washing the dishes and nodding her head to the beat of the songs playing. Once the dishes have been washed, you rummage through the cabinets for a small candle. It was one Ellie liked. It smelled like some sweet citrus scent and the label had been rubbed off. You reach into a drawer and pull out a box of matches. You strike it until it burns and you light each wick, then putting the match out.
Then, you stop the record and put it back in its sleeve. “I should get you another vinyl. Who else do you listen to?” Ellie asks as she steps behind you. You shrug. “In the old world, I listened to a lot of music. I had a Walkman but yknow, someone stole it.” “That sucks. I had a Walkman aswell at some point. Never saw it again.” She pushes her hands into the pockets of her worn jeans and you nod in response. You let out a little yawn. “I think I’ll go to sleep soon.” You mumble to yourself as you turn to Ellie. “Yknow, for my birthday, you could get me like a.. New Edition one if you could find it.” You suggest with a smile. “You got it, babe. I’ll search as hard as I can.” She smiled softly and kissed your cheek. You return the kiss and begin walking up the stairs.
You head for the bathroom to shower. The water never got as hot as you preferred but you couldn’t complain. At least you’d been getting some water. The water was lukewarm. Your clothes had been discarded on the floor. You step into the shower and your mind begins racing. You were there the entire time Tommy had been talking to Ellie. You’d opened the door to him. You watched him limp into the dining room. You let him in! You were starting to think that wasn’t a good idea as you washed your body. Ellie tended to rethink her actions and doubt herself a lot. You couldnt like, literally see inside of her mind, but you knew she had lots of inner turmoil. Killing people and the undead coupled with trauma definitely wasn’t an easy task to balance. You could see it in her. But she was addicted to that sense of justice. She felt compelled to protect the ones she loved even if it meant it was self destructive.
As you exited the shower, you found Ellie sitting on your shared bed awake. “Ellie, are you not tired?” You ask softly as you dress yourself. “No, well, yeah. I was just.. waitin’ for you.” You nod in response. You wore a pair of shorts and a shirt with some faded graphic that appeared to be from some Mortal Kombat game. You sat next to her and you grabbed her hand gently. Your thumb runs over her knuckles. “Yknow you can talk to me. I’ll listen, Ellie. I’m here for you.” She mumbled a soft ‘I know’ before she leaned her head against your shoulder. The moonlight shines through the windows, gently illuminating your features and Ellie’s. You could hear the windchimes outside swaying with the wind. “Cmon, let’s get some rest.” You suggested as you walked over to your side of the bed. You knew Ellie had a hard time sleeping most nights, and some days it was visible on her face. You just wanted her to sleep for one night. In a way, you knew why she couldn’t sleep. Maybe because she wanted to protect you from whatever may stumble in here while you’re in your most vulnerable state, or maybe because her self-decapitating thoughts were eating her alive. You laid in the bed, facing Ellie as she settled in the bed.
In one hand held her switchblade (she went to sleep holding it most nights.) She looks at you with a tired smile as one of her hands comes up to gently caress your face. “When this is all over, ‘m gonna give you the whole goddamn world.” She mumbled as she leaned forward to give you a soft peck. “I’d do the same for you. I’d get you everything you could possibly ever want.” Moments like these were your favorite moments to have with Ellie. Her words of affirmation, love and even her promises were all you could ever think about whenever you couldn’t sleep. You knew she meant everything she said because of the sincerity in her voice. You smiled to yourself. Ellie saw you and she smiled too. You turn to her. “Ellie?” “Yeah?” “Don’t leave me. Not ever. I can’t lose you, I still have so much to show you.” There was this kind of.. expression on her face. Uncertainty. Worry. Compassion. Her response was small, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d ever abide by this unspoken promise to you. “I won’t.” You smiled softly before you got a little closer to her, holding her in your arms as you drift off into sleep.
(Ellie’s POV now lol)
She was so close. Holding me as if she’d never let go. Thoughts were too much. My mind is racing. I keep seeing him. Tommy did something to me. I couldn’t just.. leave my girlfriend. The one who’s been with me through thick and thin. A woman like this wasn’t easy to come by, especially during an apocalypse. The moonlight was always my favorite light to see her under. She’d been glowing, god, she was beautiful, ethereal even. The way her braids sprawl over the pillow, her soft breathing, the soft thumps of her heart were all I would’ve needed in a perfect world. The draft coming through the window gave my goosebumps. We’d been laying here for a few minutes. It was amazing how fast she could fall asleep. The switchblade I hold has a reflection from the moons light. I see myself in the blades reflection. I look away.
Something inside of me screams ‘Go get her. Go kill Abby. Finish the job like Tommy suggested.’ Slowly, I slide out of the bed. Standing in the middle of the room, I realize that there are some windows open. Shuddering, I go to close them. I made sure to keep my footsteps light so the floor didn’t creak. After closing the windows upstairs, I go into the room my art was stationed in. There was a box under my desk containing my journal. I know she never looked through it because I didn’t want her to and she respected that. I flip through the pages of it, looking back at my entries. There’s an entry in my journal. ‘Sometimes, I hear people talking. They tell me to do bad things. I know I shouldn’t. But how do I ignore a voice so loud? I should tell (Y/N). I can’t tell her. I don’t want to ruin this for her. She seems.. happier when she’s not constantly running for her life.’ The note was next to a few sketches of her and moths I’d roughly sketched. I was tired of the voices. I return the journal and walk downstairs to close the rest of the windows downstairs. I stop infront of my guitar.
I sit down, strumming a few cords before I stop. ‘Go get her. Go kill Abby. Kill Abby. Show her what pain feels like. She killed Joel. Finish the job.’ The voice was repeating. It was driving me insane. The voices came after we left Seattle. I want the cycle to end. Nothing ends if I just ask it to. That’s in some.. nonexistent world. My skin crawls with this need. Not the kind I feel when I look at her and her beautiful face and body. It was bloodlust. A vicious cycle never ends, that’s what makes it so vicious. This is the continuation of a cycle I can't break. “I have to do this.” I mumble. I move mindlessly as I gather my things and get ready. I have to kill Abby. I feel like my only purpose in life is to protect, sacrifice, and suffer in silence. Killing Abby seems like.. my magnum opus right now. She tells me that ‘violence isn’t the answer’ and to ‘control my urges’ but I can’t.
As I stand in the kitchen, putting the last of my things into my backpack, the stairs creak. She’s awake. Fuck. She wasn’t supposed to wake up. God, don’t look at me. Don’t do this to me, I need to do this— “Ellie? What’re you doing?” Her voice makes me freeze in place. I don’t move. I stare at her. Her tired eyes. The longing in her eyes for some sorta.. normality in her life. Our life isn’t normal and has never been normal. Was anything normal in this life? Who knows. Nobody knows. Matter of fact, I don’t know.
#Spotify#wlfabby#tlou#the last of us#the last of us part 2#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x female!readed#reader insert#ellie williams x black!reader
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If you want to read but have a hard time concentrating on just the written text or the audiobook try combining them. Listen to the audiobook while you read. I often suggest this to my students that have a hard time concentrating on literary fiction or on reading in general and it has helped a few of them actually finish their readings on time and enjoy them more.
Even though I personally enjoy both regular books and audiobooks I still do this sometimes because it's just easier to read along with a grown up sometimes like when you were a kid.
And if you still prefer regular books or audiobooks, listening to music while you read or playing a video game without reading in it or doing chores while you listen can also help you concentrate better if you have attention issues.
If you want to read but find it hard, there's stuff that can help. Get audiobooks from your local library, take advantage of deals that let you get a discounted audiobook with an ebook, find audiobooks of classic lit on youtube, go to your local used book store, join a reading group that will put some pressure on you to finish the book, ask your loved ones for recommendations. Maybe you have a loved one that would like to read to you. My mom was bad at reading but loved it when my dad read to her while she did chores.
There's no wrong way to experience literature in my opinion. If you want to enjoy reading, then find a way. There is most likely a way out there to make it easier for you.
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Can you please do the sees girls being on their period and their male s/o trying to help them and comfort them but he has barely any clue what do do?
S.E.E.S girls x M! Reader
Imagine being on your period and your boyfriends in shambles
N: what if I looked you right in the eyes and told u I've been listening to tricot so much it's beaten Raise A Sulien on my spotify board. LISTEN TO TOKYO VAMPIRE HOTEL RAAAAA
Warnings: Mentions of blood/bleeding,
Nothing can go wrong! One cramp it's over. Totally wiped, Terror shock, smackdown, crit hit she's down. She's gonna turn into Minato real quick
"Urrgghhhhhhh" "you alright" "Nooooo" she whines arching her back "can you try sitting down somewhere" "there's no seats" "you can lean on me then" solver of all problems despite being the most confused man on earth y/n!! The one person from keeping her from stealing Minatos eyebags and overall tiredness
You'd try to take her to the mail to cheer her up, mention karaoke opening up and she's able to run over in milisecounds. "I heard your call" "did you here this a discount because of the anniversary" she'd get so excited she ran to the wrong direction
You'd also buy her gifts during this time, specially the jack bro claw machine gifts and new music that comes out
You pamper her so much she'd tease you on it. "My humble servent!" "Yes?" "Bring me thy homework! Filled with thy answers" "we can do it together" "what a great suggestion" there would be times she'd ask for piggy back rides in public aswell and people would catch you zomming around with her on your back shounting like she were on a roller coaster
She'd get a bit bratty, apologizing for it later. "It's so embrassing I'm sorry you put up with it" "it's fine don't worry about it" she growns knowing she's probably going to act similarly next time.
You'd hear her express more often than she usually does, which is terrifying, she groan alot, huff, squint more, yea just don't get her frustrated or catch her after the average conversation with jinpei. "HES JUST SO UGGHHH" "I'm sure he didn't mean it" "he won't shut up he's so lucky you're here" you already imagine her arguing with him and him responding with "holy yapington!"
The type to hide under the blanket and poke out if you bring snacks. "I brought you snacks yukari" you place them on the mattress and watch them being taken in secounds "...oh that was...somethin" don't let your intrusive thoughts win though, once you put your hand there you're being dragged under with her near instantly.
She'd trip a bit more often. Would lean on you alot if she's fallen alot that day. "Sorry just a bit dizzy" "don't worry about it, not like the floor isn't used to it by now" her face changes to a disapointed frown, you apologize near instantly
She'd hit you with the classic. "Hey, would you give me the whole world if you could?" You pause knowing the trick question. You try to withhold your sweat as you hold her hand. "Not just this world but the whole universe." "y/n..." she smiles, embracing you. "You're so sweet" now just avoiding every question like this or answer with the most crazy thing and she won't hit you with a "so other planets belong to other women?" These are mostly jokes tho but she'll act like she holds a grudge
Won't let it show until it has a kick to it (enough to have someone start leaning on stuff) she believes she can handle it as usual but this one...eh not so much, of course you wouldn't know much either until she straight up told you she felt weak
So when you convince her to take the day off you get everything for her from class. "Even though she was on her period she mustn't slack" was probably what she would say, she'd try to attend school but if she couldnt you'd be the first person she told
She gets you to do her daily activities for her and honestly props to you. You'd attended student council in her place, ask her classmates for notes, stop by a market or two if she asked. "I'm sorry if I'm bombarding you with these tasks" "it's fine.." you'd probably wonder why you got so used to writing in two notebooks a little too quickly
She would go to tartarus in this and just be like "I got it" she indeed did not have it. She'd come back to the dorm totally wiped but she'd try to keep the "I'm fine" act going and then as soon as she gets in bed she's knocked out. She doesn't even tie up her hair which is where you come in, the routine saver!! "I can't thank you enough" "don't worry at all about it"
She'd also get pretty clingy on her period, you're casually seeing her vulnerable you're not going to leave just yet. "Don't go" "?" She looks blankly at the foot of her bed, you sit down with her "how long would you like me to stay" "...." her cheeks turn a bit pink "until I feel better" getting to see her flustered gets your mouth to tease into a smile. "I can do that" she'd definitely think about it when her periods over and just regret every action, yet wouldn't mind asking you every once in a while
You gotta have that dawg in you to date fuuka/ref and a bit of inferrance skill
She would try to not let it show as it would drag others down but she can't really hide it well around you. "Here" you hand her a pad "I thought it hid it well this time" she pounts a bit disapointed "you can't really hide how you get a bit paler when this happens, do you want me to make something" "you don't have to..." "I'll make you that thing youve been wanting me to try" she narrows her eyes "tough offer"
If she did go to school with you, Yukari would comment on how low on energy Fuuka seemed to be. "She looks kinda down" "yea I've been trying to cheer her up a bit but nothings really working" Yukari narrows her eyes at you "you didn't happen to upset her did you" you scratch your head "no she's just on her period maybe sweets or something" She'd be so embrassed if you brought up the time she thought you upset Fuuka, and then see you come in with those Japanese gummy foods to make with her.
You try to tuck her in and make sure she has as much rest as possible, she might resist because of s.e.e.s but you being blissfully unaware just say "im sure they'll understand you can't go today, they're just a club" she would toss and turn thinking of shadows ending up with asking you to stay with her because she couldn't sleep
Unrested Fuuka and she's on her period? You don't need just the dawg you need god. "I feel like I'm letting everyone down.." "they know you need to rest Fuuka it's alright" she grips at your shoulders. "Yea but I still feel horrible for it" "Fuuka how about this I'll bring you notes and your homework and we can do it together" she sighs "then I'll drag you down!" She tears up, noticing this you hug her. "Fuuka, we're in the same class if anything I'm just being a mail man, you won't drag anyone down if you're willing enough to keep up so you don't have to ask many questions when you get back" she lossens her grip on you looking up to see your face "really?" "Really"
Im...you think her blood streams oil? She'd probably compare a period to a malfunction or just feeling aggressively glum for a week
"Y/n I don't know why but I feel so fatigued" "did anything happen?" "No, not that I'm aware of" "must be your version of a period" you shrug your shoulders not even sure if that's even right. "I'll see what I can do" you had no dang clue so you just decided to tuck her in bringing a stuffed animal just incase
She'd law down super awkwardly just full on still. "Do you think my limbs will get caught in this blanket?" "Should I replace it?" "No it's quite comfortable"
She'd also get a bit clumsy, which is horrible when tests come along. "I seem to have put the wrong choice despite knowing the correct answer" "that happens to all of us" you sigh reminding yourself of all the times you put the wrong answer to find out later the correct one. So asking to study is critical even if she still dosent know the material she has spirit!
She would come to school, this doesn't stop her from staring down at you as soon as class was over, just scarier. "You gotta stop doing that" you shiver after the 9th jumpsca re this year alone. "I'd like to take you to your next class" "thank you Aigis please don't do this to wake me up" "I think it would be effective" "effective in giving me nightmares" thank god those jumpscares only happen for a few days
#x reader#fluff#persona 3 reload#persona 3 x reader#persona 3#p3 reload#yukari takeba#persona 3 fuuka#p3 x reader#kotone shiomi#fuuka yamagishi#p3 fuuka#mitsuru kirijo#p3 mitsuru#aigis#p3 aigis#aigis persona 3#male reader
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Community HeadCannons because I can
Abed
- This is canon but is Autistic
- When overwhelmed or having trouble speaking he’ll use the word “cool” for every answer. Like to mean yes, no, okay, etc. (once again borderline canon.)
- Has dyscalculia
- Had ARFID
- Bisexual and Agender
- Hate watches Supernatural and Greys Anatomy
- Hyper-empathic when it comes to inanimate objects
- Let’s Annie paint his nails
Jeff
- Has narcissistic personality disorder specifically covert narcissism
- Bisexaul
- Has ADHD
- Practices “Winger Speech’s” in the bathroom mirror
- Knows sign language
- Would most definitely listen to Dad Rock
- Views both Abed and Annie as younger siblings (just pretend all the Jeff/Annie stuff never happened. It always seemed weird to me)
- Makes sure he watches every movie Abed references (although he’ll deny that until the day he dies)
- Goes to Pride with Abed, Annie, and Troy (although they have to practically drag him the first time, but now he goes all in)
Troy
- Has ADHD literally no doubt in my mind
- Transmasc
- Gay and on the Asexual Spectrum
- Still believes in The Easter Bunny, The Tooth fairy, etc
- Loves stuffed animals but only has one very raggedy one from his childhood
- Religious Trauma
- Would try to do research on Autism, and Islam to try and understand Abed better but would keep getting distracted and get so frustrated he started crying. Annie would end up reading the stuff to him and helping him understand it.
- Loves the color purple
- Has always wanted a dog and is constantly bringing home strays
- Not really about him but when Troy gets Top Surgery Abed would drive him home and take care of him while he healed
- Listens to cheesy pop music
Annie
- I was going to say Audhd but what if she was misdiagnosed with ADHD as a kid but actually had Autism so that’s where the whole adderal addiction came from.
- Lesbian but with a lot of internalized homophobia
- Has always wanted a pet snake
- Has taken multiple self defense classes
- Is really into true crime
- Celebrates every year of sobriety one way or another (as she gets more comfortable with the group she invites them and they celebrate together)
- Loves heavy metal music and classical music
- Is surprisingly good at art
- Is the one who introduced Abed to Greys Anatomy
- Writes fanfic
Britta
- Transfem
- Exclusively listens to indie music
- Is secretly a Broadway nerd
- I honestly don’t have that much for her
Shirley
- Starts of as homophobic but as she gets to know everyone she starts to question whether her religion is entirely right about that point.
- She becomes a huge ally. Would wear a free mom hugs shirt to pride.
- Is the mom of the study group
- Her purse is pretty much magically whatever you need she has it in there (that includes stim toys, and noise canceling head phones for Abed and the other neurodivergents)
That’s it :))
#community tv#troy x abed#abed community#abed nadir#troy community#trobed#troy barnes#jeff winger#annie edison#britta perry#shirley bennett#oh no#i accidentally forgot to add Pierce#how sad#autistic abed#autisic#autistic Annie#adhd Troy#lesbian Annie#Agender Abed
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Out of curiosity, what kind of hobbies and/or special interests do the various characters have?
Ooh, some I’ve touched on in other asks, but I’ll reiterate them again here in one post 😁
Ash
Clearly, for Ash, it’s trying to learn various different kinds of martial arts that can help them get the edge in battle, like Sambo, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Krav Maga, etc.
Recently, they’ve been a bit interested in tinkering with their motorcycles too (although, they will never tinker with their mom’s bike). Just trying to learn more about these machines that they love. They’re not a mechanic yet, but they are learning.
But outside of combat and motorcycle related stuff, they love listening to music and they listen to a wide genre of songs, depending on their mood. They’ve tried learning guitar when they were younger, but just stopped after getting frustrated, deciding to fully dedicate themself to their training instead 😆
Maybe if they live in a more mundane life, they would be a pretty good guitarist and they would be a band kid or something 🤣
Rin
Their mom is a classically trained musician and she taught them a bit on how to read musical notes and playing piano. But eventually, they just got too busy with their studies and their increasing responsibilities that they just stopped. They’re far from good in playing piano, but they’re at least decent.
Also, it was their mother who often played classical music for them, especially whenever they had a headache after using their ability too much. To this day, they still love to listen to classical music and listen to it whenever they need to chill.
But their secret special interest is actually in cooking 😌 Whenever they can, they will try to cook their own meal, but most of the time, they can’t, so they go eat outside. They also can do a bit of baking, mostly simple stuff. Maybe one day, they’ll take a more advanced baking class (private, of course, except if MC or Ash wants to join too).
Santana
Honestly, they don’t really know. They’ve always been really busy with their job, or trying to get enough sleep. They do enjoy cooking simple but hearty home-cooked meals occasionally, mostly recipes from their mom. But they’re not as passionate in cooking compared to Rin.
Their hobby is reading novels, even if they don’t really have much time to do that ever since they started their career. They mostly read whatever that intrigues them, but mostly, those end up being fantasy or sci-fi or historical fiction.
You’d think they love to read mystery or thriller, but honestly, they are already dealing with unsolved cases almost everyday—a lot of them leaving them lie awake at night. They don’t really need to read more fictional cases.
Skylar
Their special interests are in arts stuff, especially drawing/sketching and poetry and a bit of amateur photography.
They’re pretty good in drawing and sketching, and decent in photography (mostly done on their phone for Facegram anyway), but the poetry… It’s a work in progress, alright 😂
They have a little journal book they usually bring around to do lil sketches, or write ideas, or try to write poetry. They hide it in a secure and secret place somewhere 🤭
#asks#full cast ros#ro: ash#ro: rin#ro: santana#ro: skylar#char: info#if: vendetta#vendetta if#if vendetta#if game#if wip#dashingdon#choicescript
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more random cod headcanons
tw: mentions of self harm, references to OG ghost backstory, angst :)
141 tried to do group therapy together
but they ended up making the therapist cry and the four of them had to awkwardly comfort the therapist
ghost hates therapy with a passion but goes anyway
soap did the tide pod challenge
price lost it at him in the med bay when he found out
"johnny it's a plastic capsule of LAUNDRY DETERGENT!"
"yummy colours🥰"
ghost used to sh on his face
love how i just give yall a bunch of sweet stuff and then BOOM ANGST HEADCANON outta nowhere :)
i feel like he suffers from severe facial dysmorphia, especially after covering his face for so long
sweet pie gang: soap, könig, price
savoury pie gang: ghost and gaz
couldnt care less, just likes pie: horangi
ghost hates coffee but pretends to like it to seem cool (he's actually drinking coffee crisp hot chocolate)
horangi listens to ayesha erotica
he is also a RAGING bisexual (strong lean towards men)
laswell refers to the 141 as her boys, she loves to embarrass them like a mom would
soap and ghost are ATTROCIOUS at cooking
price is pretty good at it, can make quite a lot but struggles with a few harder recipes (and also somehow cannot make instant noodles)
gaz is a GOD in the kitchen but he hates cooking
soap is not allowed in the kitchen alone, once set the kitchen in fire trying to get a glass of water
awkward day on base when that happened
"sorry, can't go into the kitchen, the explosions specialist set it on fire trying to get a drink"
soap listens to classic rock and metal only (and katy perry but he will never admit it)
gaz listens to (shocking literally everyone on the team) music from the 40's, 50's and 60's. he listens to some modern music but he just ADORES the vintage music, especially jazz.
gaz and soap also like therapy
like genuinely enjoy it
gaz has to hype himself up before his appointments though
soap hypes the therapist up
price is neutral, he'd prefer to just smoke and drink to deal with his problems but understands that talking about them with a professional is the best option
ghost, as mentioned before, hates therapy with a burning passion but goes anyway
mostly because he knows he will be put on probation if he doesn't
but also because he knows that he needs the help even if he doesn't want to admit it
also after one of his first month of going to all his appointments that month without skipping one at all, price told simon he was proud of him and now he uses that as motiva to go to his appointments
price knows how to use technology in the weirdest ways
can operate a drone but cannot for the life of him figure out QR codes
a pretty decent hacker but do NOT ask him what any text slang aside from "lol" and "lmao" is. he does not know.
doesn't know that emojis have different meanings depending on context
once said "simon's in the hospital😭" i the TF141 group chat, gaz and soap thought that he was laughing at simon
soap got arrested in croatia on a mission once because he committed arson
kate had to bail him out and he got an earful on being a pyromaniac and arsonist
price just told him to restrict his fire setting to the battlefield
valeria has a medusa tattoo, it's under her chest on her sternum (iykyk)
ghost was tempted to get a medusa tattoo but decided against it because he views it more as a symbol of strength for women (really afab/fem aligned in general) who have suffered through that kind of assault and that it would be wrong to take that from them
he got a tattoo inspired by medusa instead
ghost has his on his hip
he was orginally going to get it on his left ribcage but when the artist was placing the stencil he almost had a panic attack and they both decided a different placement would be better
könig has tattoos for his siblings and his mother (mama's booooyyyyy🗣️)
ghost also has tattoos for his mother, tommy, joseph and even one for beth
is there a male version of a barracks bunny?
because that's horangi, that man is fucking EVERYONE or getting fucked, depends on his mood that night
idk i feel like sometimes they all watch like family guy or bob's burgers together sometimes during their downtime
soap's fav bob's burgers character is gene
price's is teddy
gaz's is tina
ghost's is both louise and bob
könig's is linda
horangi's is mort and kuchi kopi
#call of duty#cod headcanons#ghostedcas: call of duty#call of duty headcanons#casper writes#ghostedcas#simon ghost riley#captain john price#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kate laswell#könig#könig cod#könig call of duty#kim horangi hong jin#horangi#kate laswell headcanons#kate laswell call of duty#valeria garza#valeria garza headcanons
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CREEPYPASTA HEADCANNONS
Okay so this is going to be just a few characters to start with, but I will definitely make a part two which has more characters!!
(This post includes Jeff the Killer, Ben Drowned, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby, Homicidal Liu)
(Also don't get mad at me for this post. ITS MY OPINION and you do NOT have to agree with it)
Jeff the Killer
• Okay so Jeff fans are WILD so please don't kill me if I say something you don't agree with☠️
• He is really proud of his new face. (I always see people say he is insecure of it but it's stated in his story that he thinks it's beautiful)
• He re cuts his face everytime it TRIES to re-heal
• His face cuts are VERY infected
• He isn't exactly close with anyone in the mansion but he gets along with Toby the most
• May act like he doesn't but he really does regret what he did to Liu
• Has attachment issues after what happened with Liu (he lost him and he was so close with him
• Definitely listens to old good Charlotte, all time low, and maybe even some never shout never
• Has bad trust issues
• Gets mad very easily
Ben Drowned
• Is pretty childish since he was 12 when he died and never really got the chance to mature
• Is close with sally (even though it took her a while to get used to any male presence and she still hates it) and they prank people together
• He loves Apple juice (idk why I think this😭)
• He does stuff to purposely annoy people such as poking them over and over again
• when he gets mad he side eyes people and tells them to shut up
• You will hear him raging at random times at night because he lost in a video game
• I think he gets more annoyed than he does mad like he will roll his eyes if someone is irritating him
• Sassy 12 year old
• Is OBSESSED with Halloween because he loves the way people in the mansion celebrate (some of them go outside in their normal outfits and trick or treat just to bring home candy for the younger ones of the house. Since they all look like they are in a costume)
• I know this is super stereotypical but he definitely listens to hyperpop since it replicates computer-typeish music and tones
Eyeless Jack
• He doesn't have eyes, but HE CAN SEE
• Sometimes when he is out of kidneys and is hungry but doesn't feel like hunting, he will teleport to hospitals and use his invisibility skills to take kidneys from transplant sections (if that's what they are called)
• He still feels human emotions but just has a hard time expressing them since he wants to forget his past
• Has SEVERE trust issues and it would be shocking if he EVER trusted a human again
• Feels sympathy for Ben (if we are talking about the Benjamin Lawman sacrifice story) since he was also killed/sacrificed by a cult
• Don't get me wrong he loves killing/torturing humans, but sometimes he only wants a kidney and when they wake up he dreads it
• Is VERY quiet and polite (when around other creepypastas obviously) and doesn't really say much
• I feel like he definitely listens to 2014 music that you would hear on road trips (example: Safe and sound - capital cities, am I wrong - Nico and Vinz etc.)
Laughing Jack
• Is TERRIFYINGLY TALL. APPROXIMATELY 8 FEET TALL. Scary
• I weirdly feel like he sounds like tiny tim and pennywise combined
• Definitely thinks everything is funny since he used to be an actual clown and still hasn't forgotten those ways fully
• Listens to old classical music and 1920s-40s music such as tonight you belong to me - patience and prudence, and livin in the sunlight lovin in the moonlight - Tiny Tim
• Ben always try to prank him and he gets mad because he feels like he should be the one pranking
• Extremely scary and quiet most of the time, but he has very frequent mood swings that could have him jumping off the walls (literally) to just sitting on the floor staring
• Doesn't get along with anyone in the mansion except for Candy Pop and Jason the Toymaker
• Doesn't sleep and only eats the organs he pulls out of his victims
• Hates Issac because he basically turned him into this monster
• Has abandonment issues severely
• Is definitely claustrophobic ever since he had to be in that box for that long period of time
• Has a wind up thing on his back and he will play music (since he is a jack in the box and also a stuffed doll)
Ticci Toby
• Does NOT like waffles
• Is NOT an "UwU smol bean"
• hates being treated like he is less just because he is a proxy
• Likes to be alone because it can be a struggle for him to communicate due to his tourettes (not saying they can't communicate just saying it can come as a struggle when talking to someone new because of stress and anxiety which is a trigger for most people)
• Has bad abandonment issues
•Will absolutely REFUSE to kill anyone who resembles his sister in the slightest unless slenderman tells him to (proxies can not refuse slender)
• He loves fall and nature and loves to see the leaves turn green to gold
• Wears a lot of sweaters (this is kind of canon)
• Doesn't really get along with anyone in the mansion except for Jeff since they both like to complain about stuff
• It's harder for him to feel human emotions since proxies kind of have all of that erased
• Is quiet and when people talk to him he kind of just nods and shakes his head in response to what they say instead of talking back
• Listens to old Owl City and All Time Low
• NOT emo😭 (I always see people say he is...)
• Everytime he sees a car he thinks of Lyra and has a mental breakdown. Anything he sees that remind him of her he can't deal with
• LOVES RACCOONS!!!!
• Definitely got bitten by a stray raccoon because he tried to pet it
Homicidal Liu
• He forgives Jeff even though he basically ruined his life
• Is very peaceful and kind of came to terms with all that happened
• Very quiet and laid back
• Doesn't like loud people/places
• Hates conflict since it reminds him of that day the fighting happened
• Has EXTREME trust issues since him and Jeff were so close and he just decided to attempt to murder him while he was sleeping on the couch
• I have a feeling him and bloody painter get along since they share a couple of traits that are needed
• But all of this changes when he turns into Sully it's a WHOLE different story then
• Loves Christmas and winter
Hello guys!! That's all I have today but I will definitely make more parts with more characters! I apologize for how long it took me to make this I have had school and SO much more boring daily life shit☠️ I hope you all have a good day!!! <33
I'm also 100% willing to do marble hornets and every man hybrid head cannons but I WILL include them in the creepypasta section!! I do know that they are not creepypastas I just like the headcannon that they all live in the mansion together 😭
#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta#laughing jack#homicidal liu#jeff the killer#ticci toby#ben drowned#eyeless jack#slenderman#proxies#creepypasta fandom
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TBP HEADCANONS
• Vance likes to be nurtured and prefers quiet, gentle things. If you approach him nicely and you talk to him nicely then he won’t be mean to you he just has a trigger for aggression.
• Bruce is multitalented. One of those guys who can do anything he really tries to and has done a lot. He’s done theatre, baseball, he’s really good at braiding hair and is excellent at writing informative essays but his main things are studying unsolved cases and filling notebooks with information on thinks he’s into.
• robin boxes every other day after school, he goes to this gym that’s sort of old and kind of empty so it’s usually just him in there. He brings a little radio and hustles a punching bag for hours. Sometimes Vance comes and works out with him, usually they don’t talk rather just enjoy each others company (and music taste. I think they like similar stuff.)
• Vance and Gwen and Amy are actually really good friends for some reasons 9/10 of the times the boys can’t find Vance it’s because he’s at one of their houses letting the girls braid his hair. He protects them but truly he’s scared of them they’re vicious rabid creatures
•Gwen, aside from her dreams and shit, just has really good intuition and can read people like books. Which is why she and Vance are such good friends because she reads him so well she somehow manages to know exactly whats wrong at all times, besides, she went through a stress toy phase and now has a drawer full of them she doesn’t use and Vance has taken all of them. Win win.
• griffin doesn’t know how to ride a bike. He swore up and down that he did and billy got annoyed and called his bluff, hopped off his bike and pat the seat. He couldn’t even get on it he was down on the sidewalk in half a second.
•billy is an advent fan of the outsiders and his favorite character is Darry. He likes to associate characters to his friends and it’s an inside joke between them who’s who. (Finney is pony boy, robin is Johnny. Vance is dally, Bruce is soda pop (but also billy argued he was cherry. He wanted to be soda pop) griffin is two bit, and billy is Darry. (And they wonder why that’s his favorite.) Gwen thinks she should be soda pop and Bruce should be cherry and not reverse but whatever! )
• finney and Gwen’s movie is grease. It’s their favorite, they have The soundtrack on tape and know the dances. They sing duets, finneys danny and Gwen is sandy. Gwen’s favorite song is hopelessly devoted and finneys is you’re the one that I want
•robin listens to a lot of rock and a bit of metal (mostly because of Vance who just needs someone to talk to about albums he likes so he tells Robin cuz Robin always actually listens to them.) he rly likes run dmc and the beastie boys. Any fast paced or loud music is his shit. Finney doesn’t like loud noises and he doesn’t enjoy listening to that kind of music it makes him antsy so their common ground is soft 50s / 60s music. (I.e those magic changes - Sha na na & anything Ritchie valens) but most of the time robin plays whatever he wants on his stereo and just keeps it super low.
•robin and Vance have daily smoke seshs in the bathroom (one robin fought to own literally. Like he put a group of seniors on their asses freshmen year and now it’s his bathroom no one goes in there)
•Billy’s really into old movies and is constantly in the library trying to read up on old 1920s actresses
•billy likes classical music. He buys cheap tapes and lets them play softly in the background
•robins bed is in the corner of his room against a wall so whenever finney sleeps over he sleeps on the side pressed against the wall because sometimes he gets nightmares and makes monsters out of the shadows in the room but from the corner he can’t see them.
•Vance hopper is a writer he’s awful at SAYINg how he feels so he writes to people. He writes poems and stories and stuff and he’s a real good story teller he just can’t figure out how to get the words out of his mouth
•griffin has undiagnosed adhd and spent all of his life getting yelled at by his mother over it. He’s self conscious about himself and tries to do things quietly in dark corners but the boys are never annoyed with him when he talks or runs around or stims and it helps him come to terms with himself
• griffins dad and Vance’s mom are dating and have been since they were younger. They live together and even though Vance still has to go see his dad on a court order and stuff griffin always waits at the doorstep for him or drives with his mom to drop and pick him up
•Bruce is the oldest in the group and takes on a motherly type role. He’s always there to help them, constantly feeds them and buys them stuff and talks to them like he’s sooo much older then them and how he’s sooo tired from raising kids and working but deep down it makes him happy to provide and make other people happy. He needs to be taken care of too and there’s always someone there for him (usually Vance because he’s a little more mature then the others and notices when Bruce is down before they do. Not their faults though, sometimes they just don’t peep it for a while.)
•robins mom loves finney, she jokes about loving him more then robin All the time. Sometimes they’ll lay at the foot of her bed while she’s watching tv and just whisper to eachother. She enjoys their company and really likes it when they stay home she much prefers they just stay right by her side for safety
•robin has a dog named paco , he’s a 3 year old brown pit bull. Very rowdy and clumsy just like robin :)
#tbp#the black phone#tbp headcanons#vance hopper#finney blake#robin arellano#griffin stagg#bruce yamada#billy showalter#gwen blake#amy yamada#I love them#they are friends :)#ao3#i <3 them#rinney#brance#but also not entirely ship related
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