to answer the question: not yet in this lifetime

Hiraeth | Pt.11

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | pt.6 | pt.7 | pt.8 | pt.9 | pt.10 | pt.11 | pt.12 |

Words: 5,690.

Genre: Zombie apocalypse au, angst.

Summary: A world full of dwindling hope and lost loves and yet you and Jungkook are all the other needs to feel at home.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language and violent themes).

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A Far Away Infinity

I actually am posting this when I said I was going to! A miracle. And another million thank yous for all the love for this story! It makes me write faster ;) Enjoy and let me know what you think! Also look who got fancy with a picture.

Part 1

Part 2  // Sometimes You Have to Grin and Bare it //

“So, how’s Frank?” Jamie asked, kicking a random stone off to the side and into the grass. 

The park they were walking through was busy with kids out of school running around and playing in the hills. The clouds had lifted and the lake they were walking around glistened under the attention.

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I am trying to put a pin in this.
I am trying to call this finished, or
over, or
something we are on the other side of.
But it’s hard finding closure when you’re standing
in front of a door you never opened.
See, you can’t finish a race if you’re still
standing, bashful, at the starting line.
I wonder
how many months we’ve already spent
watching each other fall in and out of love
with other people.
I wonder
if I’m meant to spend a lifetime
asking god about your mouth.
This boy is not my answer
to the question we never ask each other.
No matter what anyone says,
I’m not looking for you, in him.
He is not the echo of your hands;
he looks nothing like your ghost.
I could fall in love with him and
it would have nothing to do with you–
just like the boy who broke your heart
had nothing to do with me.
I shouldn’t have to apologize
for the state we find ourselves in, and yet
I catch myself dusting my own heart
for fingerprints, for motive,
for evidence of a crime.
So this is what it is to be in love at a distance:
measured in miles,
measured in time-zones,
measured in how often I’ve thought
about my hands and your hands and
your hips and my thighs,
measured in how high we can stack
the fear, the denial, the regret.
I guess this is us finding out the hard way
that a hundred thousand maybes
aren’t worth a single fucking
Destruction Of A Muse [Part 2]

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

Part [1]

Warning: Blood mention

“Just tell me.” Namjoon groaned, clearly fed up with you withholding information from him. Not to mention the killer hangover that was drilling at his skull from the inside out.

“No.” You murmured around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie, chomping on it before stuffing another into your mouth.

He had his arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the light, but he removed it just to give you a pointed glare. “I didn’t even see you talk to anyone last night, how are you meeting someone?”

You brushed some stray crumbs off of your shirt, snorting when Namjoon spluttered and rolled away from you from his position on the floor when a few sprinkled onto him. “You didn’t see me talk to anyone because you had your head all the way inside that girls mouth.”

“Hey,” He grumbled, pointing a long finger at you. “She is a lovely woman.”

“What’s her name?” You blinked down at him, another cookie poised between your thumb and forefinger, ready for you to take a bite.

Namjoon squinted up at you, not saying anything as he once again draped his arm across his eyes. “At least I’m not telling you because I don’t know, not because I’m some hoarder of secrets.”

You rolled your eyes back in your head, inhaling half the cookie in one bite before nudging the other half against Namjoon’s lips, smiling to yourself when he gobbled it up in seconds. “Okay,” You started, “It’s Suga.”

He shot up into a sitting position so quickly that you jerked back, the packet of cookies crunching as you skidded into them. “What?” He stared at you with wide eyes, cringing for a second with the way his voice had the dull thudding in his head turning into a painful banging.

“What?” You asked, brows furrowed together in confusion.

“Y/N…” Namjoon began, cutting himself off to shake his head in disbelief. “No.”

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Believe In Me

Request: In which Jungkook swears to always protect you—even if you don’t accept him.
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst, Guardian Angel!AU
Word Count: 8,681
Author’s Note: oh my god I finally finished this. I don’t know how I feel about it yet, but I hope you guys like it!!


Jungkook doesn’t remember dying.

He actually doesn’t remember anything much about, well, anything. As strange as it may sound, all he really remembers is darkness. Just an endless pitch, devoid of any life, the only thing to keep him company the whispers and remnants of his own thoughts—even though he’s not even sure he’s had much to begin with. It just feels like he’s floating around in some sort of strange bubble of extended unconsciousness, aware of everything and yet absolutely nothing all at the same time.

He isn’t aware of how long he’s stuck in this stage, caught between the realms of the dead and the living, unable to settle in one for too long, before it feels like he’s being pulled down. As if the carpet beneath his feet have been ripped from below him, sending him spiraling until he’s standing within a white room with no doors and no windows.

It all feels a little bit like waking up, embracing some sort of artificial sunlight that takes the form of blinding lights without a source and Jungkook is left alone to walk, touch the walls as the questions spring in his mind like wildflowers. He’s confused, because even though he doesn’t remember dying he knows for a fact that he’s dead and when he pictured afterlife this is certainly not what he had been expecting. Whatever fantasy he may have conjured up in his mind seem a lot more exciting than the confined space of 4 walls, no end in sight.

“You must have a lot of questions right now.”

Jungkook whirls around towards the voice, sprouting from someone he knows could not have been in the room a few seconds ago. But again, he knows he must certainly be dead because how else could someone have appeared within a room with no windows or doors, an eerie quietness drifting and biting at his skin—a previous reminder that he had been alone.

Up until now.

The speaker of the statement is a man behind a desk, hair a short pale blue color and black framed glasses across his face, fingers laced together and folded upon a file. The man is unfamiliar, yet his smile is one of comfort and a vague recognition, and Jungkook could have sworn he’s seen this man before once in his lifetime. Or, at the very least, he trusts this man almost immediately. It could be a naive part of Jungkook’s original nature, but the man has just appeared to him out of thin air, seemingly willing to answer any question Jungkook dare try to speak—and he seems calm.

Jungkook turns to face the man completely. “I died,” He speaks quietly, clearing his voice when it sounds as if he hasn’t had to use it in years, like vocals rubbing against sandpaper.

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anonymous asked:

3 Jyn/Cassian :3

3 - peace

In the end, Jyn climbs a tree to get away from it all. It’s not that she begrudges them the celebration, but it’s a lot of noise and movement and light and color in one place, all at once. There’s so much commotion that she can barely concentrate enough to visualize her father’s face, and she really wants to imagine how happy he would look right now. If he could.

Cassian shouldn’t be able to find her—there are a lot of trees on Endor’s moon, after all—but he does. Somehow, he always does.

Jyn sits back, one leg dangling over a branch, and watches him climb up to her. She really shouldn’t feel safe this far off the ground, but the trunk is solid against her back, and she can see for miles. The last of the light is fading from the sky, and some Rebel, delirious with victory, has started shooting off fireworks. Because the celebration wasn’t already loud and bright enough without blinding, deafening explosions going off overhead.

“Fireworks,” Jyn says, as soon as Cassian has climbed within earshot. “Where did they get fireworks? And how did they get them here? Have they been carrying them around on every mission, with a little sign attached that says ‘to be lit in event of the Emperor’s death?’”

Cassian’s chuckle turns to a grunt as he hefts himself up the rest of the way, testing the strength of the branch next to hers.

“I’ll ask Chirrut later,” he says, propping himself back against the trunk. His leg dangles next to hers, close enough that their knees almost touch. “If anyone knows, it’ll be him.”

Jyn lets her smile answer for her. She can still hear all the carousing going on down below—is that singing?—but at this distance, it’s faded to a pleasant background thrum. Cassian lets the silence wind around them, soft and comfortable, like the homespun blankets Jyn can just barely remember from back on Lah’mu. Lifetimes ago, it feels like.

“Are you all right?” Cassian finally asks.

She knew the question was coming. Yet somehow, she can’t find it in herself to feel exasperated.

“Fine,” she says, automatically. She waits a beat, then adds, “Just missing my father.”

It’s getting dark, and the light from the campfires below and the fireworks above can’t quite reach them. She can’t see the details of Cassian’s face, but she hears the rustle of the leaves as he moves, feels the warmth and pressure of his hand coming to rest on her thigh.

She really shouldn’t shift her weight on the branch, but she moves just enough to lean down a little, laying her head on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be strange,” she says, after several quiet moments have passed.

“What is?” Cassian’s voice is a low, gentle rumble by her ear.

“Peacetime.” She scrapes her hand idly down the tree trunk, the bark coarse and sticky beneath her fingers. “I don’t know how not to fight.”

Cassian makes a wordless noise, his breath ruffling her hair.

“Maybe,” he says. “But if there’s one thing you do know how to do, it’s adapt.”

Jyn sees a blur in the dark as his head moves, and she can tell he’s looking down at her. She has a feeling he’s smiling, too.

“And this time,” he says, “you won’t be adapting alone.”

Jyn closes her eyes. She reaches out in the dark, finds his hand, links their fingers together. Down below them, the celebration stretches on, a multitude of joyful voices rising into the night.

Fic Rec List (Part 2/?)

(Part 1 here) 

(Part 3 here)

Baggins and The Smith by elluvias
- Some dwarfs have come to the shire in winter looking for work to feed their people. Maybe Bagend needs some new chandeliers/repairs. Bilbo cant resist visiting the town forge everyday to admire Thorin work hard and honorably to feed his people. Que romance and hot sex in a forge. And a sad good bye. Then the quest happens and Thorin is a little more then miffed Bilbo doesn’t remember him. Maybe its the beard or the fact that Bilbo never knew he was a king and it throws him off.

Here Be Dragons by agirlnamedchuck - “Of course it has to be Gandalf.” Bilbo muttered, “I couldn’t just have some other wizard visit me.” Not that he’d be happier with any of the other wizards visiting him at all. If Saruman had appeared on his doorstep he’d die of fright or more likely shock. In the shire a saying had become popular after Belladonna Took had run off with the wizard and returned three days late for her wedding some months later: Where Gandalf went there would be trouble. (Or the one where Bilbo is a dragon and still gets roped into reclaiming Erebor, Gandalf is a meddling Wizard, and Bilbo may have confusing feelings for Thorin Oakenshield)

Call You Home by northerntrash - In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

If You Go Out to the Woods by bubbysbub - At no point in the accidental usurpation of Thorin as leader of The Company and the quest for Erebor, did Bilbo intend for this to turn into an exploration of cultural differences (and something that almost feels like group therapy). For some reason, the Dwarrows aren’t complaining, and Bilbo isn’t going to question it, as long as the lumoxes behave themselves and do as they’re told. Who knows, they all might yet survive this insane journey. (Or, where Bilbo decides the Dwarves are all too stupid for him to endure this ridiculousness anymore and Does It Hobbit and the Dwarves suddenly get affectionate.) (Bilbo/Thorin/Dwalin)

A Pretty Face by panickyintheuk - Bilbo does his best to prove that he isn’t completely shallow. The Company doesn’t seem convinced, for some reason.

Up in Smoke by Keelywolfe - Winter is no time to be traveling over the mountains and so Bilbo finds himself staying in Erebor until spring. When a gift comes from the Shire, he’s more than willing to share his prize. After all, surely a relaxing pipe of Longbottom leaf could only be good for Thorin Oakenshield….

Of Gold and Ghosts by Lady_Juno - “Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Durinson, or Mr. Feirson?” asked the gentleman with the hat, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
"As Mr. Feirson had been dead these seven years,“ responded Durinson in an unflattering tone, "I should hope it is the former. What can I do for you?” Thorin Durinson is a hard-nosed moneylender of Dale, a dwarf who seems to bear a grudge against the world for being beyond his control. On a night when the world had gone mad with their ridiculous Christmas cheer, something extraordinary happens, and Durinson is given a second chance. (fem!bilbo)

Fog of War Runs Deep by fideliant - Gaming is srs bsnss. (Or that weird-ass AU in which the events of The Hobbit are an MMORPG and I try to sound like I know what I’m talking about, again. My apologies to anyone who’s actually played one before, but that’s just how the way fic works.)

For Those Treasures We Keep by yinyangswings - After Billanna Baggins disappeared during the Battle of the Five Armies, she is thought to be dead. In reality she has returned home to Shire, believing that they are better off with believing that she was killed. But she did not return alone, for the King of the Mountain left something very precious with her. Two precious something’s. And though the Quest to Reclaim Erebor has come to a close, one will take its place. As one thing always changes into another. (Fem!Bilbo)

All The Rivers Sound In My Body by littleblackdog - As much as he might like to cut a natty figure in a proper waistcoat and trousers with a reasonable inseam, Bilbo knew there were many more important things to bother with at the moment. Rebuilding an entire dwarven kingdom, for one. And airing out the stink of dragon would be nice as well.

The Warp by Bernie_N - Bilbo didn’t mean to do this. Well, of course he didn’t. This isn’t his fault. One moment he was sitting in front of the fire where they were camped in the forest at the edge of The Lonely Mountain, clicking his tongue at Fili and Kili chucking bits of bread at Balin, the next they were under attack. It all happened so fast, Azog and his Orcs embarking on a brutal slaughter before they had the chance to raise a sword in defence, and Bilbo somehow managed to claw his way through the forest and to the foot of the Lonely Mountain where he comes face-to-face with… Thorin… who Bilbo was certain just had his head chopped off a moment ago. To make matters worse, he doesn’t seem to recognise him. And Erebor is… well, not a charred and blackened empty tomb inhabited by a dragon. And yeah, Bilbo’s fairly certain this isn’t going to end well.

Gardening by The Feels Whale - Bilbo Baggins arrived home late one afternoon in the middle of the week and the entire west Farthing is still talking about it. Poor Mister Baggins. He was doomed to be a nine-days wonder no matter what and is it any wonder after a year-long adventure? Even the Tooks haven’t the influence to hush that up, but Mad Baggins seems to have managed to silence every tongue in the Shire on that subject which would be awe-inspiring …if not for the way he decided to go about it. OR: That one where Middle Earth seems to be unclear about where baby Hobbits come from.

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel - As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough? He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Battles of the Brothers by DragonsQuill - The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was made up of brothers. Entirely too many brothers. Brothers everywhere: being underfoot, being overprotective, telling embarrassing stories around the campfire, arguing over portions, tucking in at night, stealing blankets, double-checking packs, squabbling over watch duties, helping each other on ponies, shoving each other off ponies, sharing dried meats, nicking dried meats. Family dynamics and lifetimes of deep, abiding affection (and annoyance, oh, so much annoyance, and knowing every single button) combined into a sure recipe for disaster.

anonymous asked:

Do you find Leo to be overprotective with his brothers and friends? How far will he go for them?

Oh, anon. Better sit down. This is gonna get heavy.

The short version: Yes, and further than he himself would ever imagine.

The long version:

I have this little impression in my head. When I look at Leonardo, I see someone who knows his purpose in life. I see a person whose every breath radiates the self-assurance of having his existence all figured out. I see a guy who moves with directness and purpose, who never missteps, who never falters, who never questions who he is and why he’s alive.

I truly believe that Leonardo, with all of his heart, sees his purpose in life is to serve his family.

This is what gets him up in the morning, and it’s what haunts him as he drifts off to sleep. It’s every knife in the shadows pointed towards his brothers; every customer who smirks at April with a mouth too crooked; every Dragon whose hands glint with coiled chains as the sneer at Casey from the end of the alleyway. Leo, in his mind, exists to be vigilant of them all.

And he exists to strike them down.

Perhaps it’s something he’s not aware of, but maybe it is—Leo’s a deeply existential individual, and it’s hard to imagine that he hasn’t pondered his purpose for being at least once or twice in his lifetime. It’s a question I don’t think he has a conscious answer for, and honestly, I’m sure that really disturbs him. The TMNT are genetic accidents that, by all rights, shouldn’t exist at all. Yet they do. Casey and April are misfits, outcasts from either society or their own family, and they don’t belong anywhere. But they found somewhere they can. And that just couldn’t settle with Leo—he’d never accept that the brothers, the people he loves so much have no right to a place in the world.

So what’s his resolution? What does he tell himself to get by? I don’t know. But somehow I doubt that he consciously thinks, my reason for being alive is to protect my brothers. Because that? That’s a given. That’s just what he’s supposed to do anyway. It’s as natural as breathing, it’s expected.

Not only that, it’s pretentious as all hell. What would they say, if he consciously martyred himself over a role they never asked him to play in the first place? It’s silly.

But it’s kind of what he does.

I think, for the sake of his family, Leonardo would do anything. Literally anything. They are his driving force, the willpower that courses through his veins, and if they were to die, he would be a dead man walking. Full-stop. There would just be no purpose at all.

Leonardo is his family. He would do anything for them.

Would he die for his family? Without question.

Would he kill for his family? The body would be cold before it hit the floor.

Would he disgrace himself for his family? Absolutely.

Would he kill an innocent for his family? Yes.

There is no limit. There are things he would do without a moment’s thought. And then there are things that he would struggle with, fight against with every fiber of his being—but if if there were truly no other option, if he were backed in a corner with no way out and his loved ones’ lives in the balance, he would have the resolve to see it through. He may hate himself afterwards, and he may eventually lose all self-worth anyway for the atrocity he committed, but there is little doubt in my mind that he would let planets burn if it meant saving just one of his brothers.

Some might say Leo is the most heroic of the turtles, but in my opinion, he’s just never really had the chance to be the villain.

So, then, you ask: what happens when he fails? When he’s out of people to protect? Leonardo is meant to be the first to go. That’s just how it is. If he isn’t the first to die, then he’s already failed, but if he loses everyone…

That’s a path even I won’t explore.


Here you can see several of the unicorns Castle-related tweets, recently tweeted by @NathanFillion. Stroke their shiny fur for a while. Marvel at their existence. After all wise fandom persons told you to abandon hope of seeing one in your lifetime. Yet here they are, you just somehow missed them. Damn that evil browncoat magic.

At the bottom you can see the Firefly-related tweet that angered some people yesterday so very much.

Notice the number of retweets/favorites. Compare. Meditate for half an hour and the answer will come to you. Maybe.

As for me, I only have questions.

1. How is it possible that people who clamor and weep for Castle-related tweets from  @NathanFillion somehow fail to acknowledge them and react to them in any way when they actually happen?

2. What the owner of said Twitter account is supposed to think when hearing this weeping and comparing the numbers? That Castle fans following him are selectively visually impaired? That those weeping are the loud minority, that activates only when there’s a Firefly tweet happens threatening their Castle-loving existence?

I don’t have answers.

Starter for telepathictyrant

【☣☢☠】"I have tried– more than enough for one man’s
                 lifetime– to question why life has played itself
                 out in the way that it has, but I can’t answer it.
                 I want to believe that the true reason will reveal
                 itself one day, yet I am lead to question if I’m
                 actually suffering in hell on accident. I wouldn’t
                 normally say this because it’s unethical, but
                                      f u c k   y o u . “ 

A comiXologist Recommends:
Michael Crowe recommends Roche Limit #1 by michael-moreci & vicmalhotra

Roche Limit is unlike any other place in the universe. A small space colony situated on the edge of a massive and mysterious energy anomaly, it is home to countless terran transplants. First envisioned as a waypoint to greater exploration, the colony has since descended into lawlessness.

Set against this backdrop, writer Michael Moreci guides us through the seedy underbelly of this frontier city, giving us a glimpse of life on the fringe. The heart of this narrative is rooted in mystery, wrapped in noir, with the neon glow of cyberpunk encasing it all. Nothing is as it seems and every question answered is two steps forward, one step back. The sudden disappearance of Bekkah Hudson catapults her sister into this world and sends her on journey for answers. But Bekkah isn’t the only girl missing, and her sister isn’t the only one with questions. Where these questions lead is anyone’s guess, but in a place like this, they might go better unanswered.

The art, by Vic Malhotra, is rich and detailed. Vic effortlessly creates a world that is both remarkable yet average. It is a place, seemingly a few minutes in the future, yet unimaginable in our lifetimes. The neon colors and lights of the city beguile its dark secrets. The character designs mirror this vibrancy, while little details illuminate their inner workings. Vic’s diagrams and posters also add to the depth of this world. Together, Michel Moreci and Vic Malhotra have birthed a new and exciting series sure to capture the hearts and minds of scifi and mystery readers a like. For more grim adventures be sure to check out Hoax Hunters written by Michael Moreci and Joe Hill’s Thumbprint illustrated by Vic Malhotra.

[Read Roche Limit #1 on comiXology]

Michael Crowe works on the digital assets/launch team by day and writes comics and prose by night. He’s an avid consumer of comics and all things sci-fi.

amaranthica  asked:

Since time works differently in the afterlife, theoretically it's possible that Sock and Jonathan lived hundreds of years apart on Earth. Are their lifetimes lined up pretty closely or has Sock been dead for a long time/not even been born yet by the time he meets Jonathan?

That’s actually a really cool question and it’s something I’ve thought about before so this answer might be kind of a wild ride.  Hope you’re ready!  First I’ll go through evidence of when it takes place based on what’s presented in the short, then I’ll talk a little bit about my thoughts/intent.

If you don’t like unnecessary detail, you can scroll down to the bottom for the blunt answer!  *

Here’s what we know about both Sock and Jonathan’s time (or times):

  1. They both wear modern clothes.  I think Sock’s style is too strange to be traced back to a generational trend, and likewise, Jonathan’s is too plain.  Although Sock’s distinctive hat and his wardrobe in general is kind of similar to otaku/internet culture of the early 2000s.  The kid looks like a gaia avatar.  And Jonathan’s messenger bag is also a fairly recent trend (within the last decade or so).
  2. The biggest distinction (arguably) between modern generations is technology (okay it’s really not even that arguable I think we can all agree on this).  In the short, we don’t see much in the way of technology (vehicles, fixtures on/in buildings, and electronics).  What we know is that Jonathan has headphones, and some sort of music device in his pocket, so we’re at least in an age of affordable personal stereos (early 80s to present day.  Who says it’s an iPod?  It could be a cassette player!)

CONCLUSION:  It’s pretty safe to say, then, that they’re both from some time during or after the 80s.   I think the only way it’d be possible for them to have lived hundreds of years apart would be if Jonathan’s time was the distant future.  And theoretically I guess it could be!  We don’t know what the future will look like.  But it’s more likely that the range is between the 80s to the present.

Here’s what we know about the afterlife in regards to time:

  1. Well, we don’t.  We just know that the concept of time is something that people came up with and Mephistopheles doesn’t understand it.  He doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t need to… why keep track of time when you exist in eternity?
  2. It’s not that time necessarily works differently in the afterlife (or in Hell!), but because it’s an unearthly plane of existence and it isn’t bound by the physics and rules of our world, it’s fully possible that time works differently here, if it works at all.  Maybe what happens in the afterlife happens in a time-less void?

CONCLUSION:  Modern humans tend to think of time as being linear (there were some ancient cultures who thought of time as cyclical).  Because we perceive time in a linear way, and Mephistopheles doesn’t perceive time at all, I’m going to say that however time passes in Hell, it can’t deliberately work against the passage of time on earth.  It can either stand still or move forward, and if it moves forward it could theoretically move at a different pace, but it would definitely have to move forward.  (If it moved backwards, for instance, and Meph sent Sock to a time in the past, Sock could run into himself or sleep with his grandmother or any number of hilarious paradoxes you’ve seen in time-travel stories before.)


The funny thing is about all of this (it’s not really funny) is that I’ve been deliberately avoiding anything that would indicate when W2H takes place (aside from what’s already discernible; that it’s some time between the 80s and now-ish).  Because honestly, I can’t decide when I want it to take place.

This is why you never see Jonathan’s music player.  I think in a really early mental image of Jonathan he had a CD player and he was listening to a remastered version of ‘Abbey Road’.  But his music player is really the only thing that might give you an indication of when we are.  A lot of elements of Jonathan are based on me in highschool (Not for any particular reason other than I’m not that creative), and I remember… actually getting my first mp3 player during highschool.  So I had both.  At that point it wasn’t unusual to see kids hiding CD players on their desk under their hoodies.  I think that’s probably what I was thinking about, cause I can see him going out of his way to hide a bulky music player in that hoodie, hahaha.

I know that seems really weird to think about now.  And I guess it’s kind of a strange detail for me to fixate on, but I have a kind of obnoxious interest in the development of technology in the last decade or so (it’s weird to think that for the first half of my life, the internet wasn’t hardly a thing yet).

ANNNNYWAAAAAAY.  You suggested in another note that it’d be fun to have Sock drag Jonathan to his grave site and realize that it’d grown over, or it wasn’t even there yet, or something like that… and man, that’d be such a cool idea!  I think there’d be a lot of room for some funny shenanigans if they were that many years apart… or have Sock be really confused by the new technology or something!  (I was a big fan of Yugioh back in the day, and in my mind, that’s always what it was meant to be about; A highschool kid has buddy comedy adventures with his pharaoh-ghost friend who doesn’t understand modern technology.  Seriously though why doesn’t he freak out about all the holograms and junk?!)

BUT, alas, they’re both from fairly recent times.  

I do think it’d be kind of funny if they were at opposite ends of the decade, though.  Then I could play the “WOAH what is this wacky new technology” / “WHAT how do you guys live without SUCH-AND-SUCH technology” card and have it just be a little commentary on my own aforementioned gross fascination with the development of technology in the last 20 years.. ha.  I would like to at least keep it open to some kind of time-difference anyway.  There’s a lot of potential there!


* That was a really unnecessarily long explanation and I could have just said “Sock and Jonathan are both from the same-ish time and that time is probably the early 2000s”.