as requested by anon, iām sorry it took longer than promised. i had a really busy week. hereās a list of all the blogs i know, sorted according to the type of content they make. i will also be linking/compiling other cc-rec posts / psaās to new users beneath the cut. i hope this helps!
also, if the other blogs donāt tag because iām sure this post reached beyond its limit, please still check them out !! theyāre all great creators ā¹ļø
g/ inspired by āpersona 3ā: angst, friendship, supernatural
w.c/ 1k
a.n/ hello~ itās me~ itās been a while since i stepped foot in tumblr! sorry for disappearing without notice but iāve not been in the writing mood for some time, life too has been busy. in honour of spoop month, hereās another piece to the series. i donāt know how many of you are still around but enjoy! happy halloween!
t.w/ ghost, blood, death
[First Quarter]
āDonāt.ā
You stop in your tracks. Why? He warns you out of good nature but never is able to explain more. He doesnāt know either, he tells you itās a bad time to go and you might see something you wish to forget. Thereās no turning back when it happens. Unfortunately, the inevitable already happened. Youāve seen him, an anomaly in your usually normal life. Kim Hongjoong. A dead man. A ghost in your apartment.
āHave you gone out there? In the hidden hour?ā
Hongjoong shakes his head. He doesnāt remember anything related to his death. As a ghost, he feels everything that living humans doesnāt feel. The danger, the restlessness, the wailing, the torment. He calls it the hidden hour, a secret hour where those without potentials turn into coffins and those with are preys. The hidden hour is where the dead become the living. Yet Hongjoong is still a ghost and you, a human, apparently with potential, are now sitting on your bed. The dark blue sky is tinted green with the half golden moon, so big and close to Earth almost as if the distance is reduced by half.
The coffins, water turning into blood, the gigantic moon are nothing compared to the lofty skyscraper of a tower appearing out of nowhere. A pseudo gothic edifice formed with the surrounding buildings pierce through the moon. Itās horrifyingly beautiful and Hongjoong agrees with your musing.
āI donāt know. Maybe I have. I can never seem to remember anything after a certain time. I can feel it nearing again, crawling under my skin.ā
You look over at him, Hongjoong appears with his black and white striped polo shirt. Your first wild guess was a dead runaway prisoner but he miffly shut down the idea. No prisoner is as fashionable as he is. His hair matches his polo, black and white, cleanly split in half. Your second guess was Cruella cosplay which he took more graciously. A trailblazer of their own.
āYou should sleep. Thereās not much we can do at this time. If they sense you, you might as well be food for the dead.ā
You tuck yourself in and Hongjoong too because he keeps you company while he contemplates life. The blanket goes through him but it's the thought that counts.
āGoodnight, Joong.ā
[Waxing Gibbous]
āJoong? Hongjoong?ā
Silence greets you in the hidden hour's eerie ambiance. You can hear the guttural noises the shadows are making down the street, louder than what youāre used to. Perhaps it's the moon phases, slowly but surely getting fuller each day, and each day, Hongjoong seems to disappear longer or have trouble appearing. Are ghosts affected by the phases? Why are you the only one who can see him? Youāve asked the apartment staff and none seem to know the existence of Kim Hongjoong.
āIām hereā¦ā
Hongjoong looks a bit worse for wear. Did he lose weight? There are telltale of dark shadows under his eyes and his cheeks look slightly sunken in. The hidden hour. Where the dead becomes the living.
āAre the shadows giving you trouble?ā
He slightly winced at your comment, it seems to hit the mark. He shut your window when the groaning of the shadows grew louder, clutching his forehead as if he had a very painful headache. You urge him to sit down, the blanket goes through him again but he never goes through your bed, what an interesting ghostly concept. He sinks further into your pillow, burying half of his face into it.
āThat and my head feels like theyāre splitting in half. I have dreams that don't feel like dreams. Itās always the same, it gets clearer each time.ā
You reach forward to brush his fringes in comfort and your fingers painfully buzz with sharp static electricity. Well, that never happened before, your fingers usually pass through him with goosebumps trailing up your arms. He gives you an apologetic frown, too spent for another word.
āItās alright, Joong, though I do wish I could see your dream so you donāt have to shoulder it yourself.ā
His brows furrowed and he shakes his head. You should have been careful with what you wished for. It wouldnāt be long until you wished that his dream didnāt come true because that will be the last time you see your friendly ghost roommate.
[Full Moon]
Dreams do come true. The ear splitting roar you hear in your shared dream with Hongjoong becomes a reality. The bridge shakes and your footing is unstable. He canāt hear you, heās too far. No, you couldnāt get close. There are instances where you are scared but thisā¦ This is fear.
Hongjoong is solid, he has pushed you away from him, his hands warm and strong against your shoulders. He drops to his knees, clawing at his head and letting out a heart wrenching scream. You feel suffocated within his presence.
āMake it stop! I just want to be free! I donāt want to hurt anyone!ā
You jump, ignoring the handing in your ribcage, the twisting in your stomach and the cold sweat dripping down. Hongjoong, your ghost roommate, is alive. Your arms wrap around him, coughing when his elbow struck your chest but you held him. He burns inhumanly hot.
āItās okay, Joongie. Iām right here. Be free.ā
You didnāt know the implication of your statement, you didnāt know until Hongjoong looked at you with desperation, pain and guilt. But in that moment, heās relieved and so are you. In an instant you feel bone chilling coldness seeping into you, so cold it burns. You hear shadows roaring and closing all around you, blood thick and pungent soaking your trousers, and coffins towering over you. Hongjoong starts to disappear, lighter and more translucent with each passing second.
āYou must survive.ā
Hongjoongās parting word brings a specific memory. Those with potential are food for the living dead. The frantic rushing and jumping of shadows to feast, they were close enough for you to feel their teeth before you heard something shatter. The bell from the tower in the middle of the chime with intensity that rattles your teeth and eardrums.
Just like that the hidden hour ends. The twisted skyscraper disappears in a blink. The coffins towering over you turn into pedestrians, yelling and screaming at your state. You probably look similar to a notorious serial killer caught in the bloody act. In your arms is the cold body of Kim Hongjoong.
g/ inspired by āpersona 3ā: angst, friendship, supernatural
w.c/ 1k
a.n/ hello~ itās me~ itās been a while since i stepped foot in tumblr! sorry for disappearing without notice but iāve not been in the writing mood for some time, life too has been busy. in honour of spoop month, hereās another piece to the series. i donāt know how many of you are still around but enjoy! happy halloween!
t.w/ ghost, blood, death
[First Quarter]
āDonāt.ā
You stop in your tracks. Why? He warns you out of good nature but never is able to explain more. He doesnāt know either, he tells you itās a bad time to go and you might see something you wish to forget. Thereās no turning back when it happens. Unfortunately, the inevitable already happened. Youāve seen him, an anomaly in your usually normal life. Kim Hongjoong. A dead man. A ghost in your apartment.
āHave you gone out there? In the hidden hour?ā
Hongjoong shakes his head. He doesnāt remember anything related to his death. As a ghost, he feels everything that living humans doesnāt feel. The danger, the restlessness, the wailing, the torment. He calls it the hidden hour, a secret hour where those without potentials turn into coffins and those with are preys. The hidden hour is where the dead become the living. Yet Hongjoong is still a ghost and you, a human, apparently with potential, are now sitting on your bed. The dark blue sky is tinted green with the half golden moon, so big and close to Earth almost as if the distance is reduced by half.
The coffins, water turning into blood, the gigantic moon are nothing compared to the lofty skyscraper of a tower appearing out of nowhere. A pseudo gothic edifice formed with the surrounding buildings pierce through the moon. Itās horrifyingly beautiful and Hongjoong agrees with your musing.
āI donāt know. Maybe I have. I can never seem to remember anything after a certain time. I can feel it nearing again, crawling under my skin.ā
You look over at him, Hongjoong appears with his black and white striped polo shirt. Your first wild guess was a dead runaway prisoner but he miffly shut down the idea. No prisoner is as fashionable as he is. His hair matches his polo, black and white, cleanly split in half. Your second guess was Cruella cosplay which he took more graciously. A trailblazer of their own.
āYou should sleep. Thereās not much we can do at this time. If they sense you, you might as well be food for the dead.ā
You tuck yourself in and Hongjoong too because he keeps you company while he contemplates life. The blanket goes through him but it's the thought that counts.
āGoodnight, Joong.ā
[Waxing Gibbous]
āJoong? Hongjoong?ā
Silence greets you in the hidden hour's eerie ambiance. You can hear the guttural noises the shadows are making down the street, louder than what youāre used to. Perhaps it's the moon phases, slowly but surely getting fuller each day, and each day, Hongjoong seems to disappear longer or have trouble appearing. Are ghosts affected by the phases? Why are you the only one who can see him? Youāve asked the apartment staff and none seem to know the existence of Kim Hongjoong.
āIām hereā¦ā
Hongjoong looks a bit worse for wear. Did he lose weight? There are telltale of dark shadows under his eyes and his cheeks look slightly sunken in. The hidden hour. Where the dead becomes the living.
āAre the shadows giving you trouble?ā
He slightly winced at your comment, it seems to hit the mark. He shut your window when the groaning of the shadows grew louder, clutching his forehead as if he had a very painful headache. You urge him to sit down, the blanket goes through him again but he never goes through your bed, what an interesting ghostly concept. He sinks further into your pillow, burying half of his face into it.
āThat and my head feels like theyāre splitting in half. I have dreams that don't feel like dreams. Itās always the same, it gets clearer each time.ā
You reach forward to brush his fringes in comfort and your fingers painfully buzz with sharp static electricity. Well, that never happened before, your fingers usually pass through him with goosebumps trailing up your arms. He gives you an apologetic frown, too spent for another word.
āItās alright, Joong, though I do wish I could see your dream so you donāt have to shoulder it yourself.ā
His brows furrowed and he shakes his head. You should have been careful with what you wished for. It wouldnāt be long until you wished that his dream didnāt come true because that will be the last time you see your friendly ghost roommate.
[Full Moon]
Dreams do come true. The ear splitting roar you hear in your shared dream with Hongjoong becomes a reality. The bridge shakes and your footing is unstable. He canāt hear you, heās too far. No, you couldnāt get close. There are instances where you are scared but thisā¦ This is fear.
Hongjoong is solid, he has pushed you away from him, his hands warm and strong against your shoulders. He drops to his knees, clawing at his head and letting out a heart wrenching scream. You feel suffocated within his presence.
āMake it stop! I just want to be free! I donāt want to hurt anyone!ā
You jump, ignoring the handing in your ribcage, the twisting in your stomach and the cold sweat dripping down. Hongjoong, your ghost roommate, is alive. Your arms wrap around him, coughing when his elbow struck your chest but you held him. He burns inhumanly hot.
āItās okay, Joongie. Iām right here. Be free.ā
You didnāt know the implication of your statement, you didnāt know until Hongjoong looked at you with desperation, pain and guilt. But in that moment, heās relieved and so are you. In an instant you feel bone chilling coldness seeping into you, so cold it burns. You hear shadows roaring and closing all around you, blood thick and pungent soaking your trousers, and coffins towering over you. Hongjoong starts to disappear, lighter and more translucent with each passing second.
āYou must survive.ā
Hongjoongās parting word brings a specific memory. Those with potential are food for the living dead. The frantic rushing and jumping of shadows to feast, they were close enough for you to feel their teeth before you heard something shatter. The bell from the tower in the middle of the chime with intensity that rattles your teeth and eardrums.
Just like that the hidden hour ends. The twisted skyscraper disappears in a blink. The coffins towering over you turn into pedestrians, yelling and screaming at your state. You probably look similar to a notorious serial killer caught in the bloody act. In your arms is the cold body of Kim Hongjoong.
The diner is practically empty in the middle of the night. Only a few trucks parked on the neon-lit graveled lot, the sign noticeably flickering and buzzing if one stands under it or in silence. The drivers are scattered here and there, sometimes clumping together to discuss their work, route, games or family. A long tedious job, lonely even.
You pour coffee into their empty white mugs. There are many things you hear, many you feel too. Maybe your job is just as lonesome as theirs, working at a diner in the middle of nowhere. Beside the road, there are only the electrical towers and the flat open red desert. There are hardy aloes, big cacti and tumbleweeds. The view of the moon is something else at night while the day is sweltering under the relentless sun.
Itās rather peaceful in a sense. The lone TV providing white noise as you work and the petrol station a few miles down does help with the business. Sometimes there are unsavoury patrons but nothing like silence and a shotgun to the face that couldnāt fix. You have to thank the owner for that.
Thereās a distant sound of motorcycle rumbling mixed with the coffee brewing machine in front of you. The bright headlight flashes through from the windows, momentarily illuminating the diner. You smile as you watch the biker dismount from his beloved darling. You could hear the crunching of gravel inside your head and in reality the bell chimes prettily along with the bass of combat boots on the black and white tiles.
āYeosang, itās always nice to see you.ā
With a helmet through his arm and a fitted leather jacket around his shoulders, Yeosang greets you with much friendliness. His dark tresses that seemed to be slicked back are now slightly messy.
Yeosang is a mystery. He appears out of nowhere one day with his bike, always spotless as if he hasnāt ridden through the vast dusty desert. He has a sweet tooth which you think is rather endearing, a contrast to his tough appearance. Though Yeosang has an incredibly gorgeous face, sculpted by Aphrodite herself. You told him once and he blushed while giggling and thanking you.
The French toast you serve him comes with a vanilla milkshake. You are always impressed he could eat such a sweet breakfast for dinner then again, time is obsolete in this place. People come and leave when the time is right. You know one day, he wouldnāt be coming on this road anymore. For now, Yeosang will be here and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, marked with an angelās kiss on one of the corners, oh so fond and a tad bashful in his confidence.
ahoy from somewhere on the wide ocean! two seasons have passed on the land, iām delighted to tell you, my crew and i finally have a story to share. itāll be posted on the evening. now as time is a fickle thing, whether it be my evening or your noon or morn. the story will be read by those who found it. i bid you farewell for now and until the next voyage has been charted, there are many places to sail to. may you have a nice time wherever and whoever you are.
ā¤ collab with my Moon Queen @hereisleoā
ā¤ undercover agent!Woo x female undercover agent!reader Ā
ā¤ genre:Ā Spy AU // action, chaotic fluff, inconvenient love confessions
ā¤ t/w: sfw, rated M, contains: swearing, mentions of guns & death
ā¤ count: 1.4k+
a/n - WELL DAMN. IāM BACK! Itās been a hot minute in this ghost town of a blog huh? After being stuck in the writers block for quite sometime, Iāve finally crawled out of that void. This piece was actually writtenā¦a year ago, something fun I wanted to try and roped my other half of Tea4Two into an impromptu blurb night. I started it and Leo finished it! Honestly, feels refreshing being able to write once more after months. Please enjoy & let us know your thoughts š
And it was in that moment, you knew, he fucked up.
All those weeks of planning went right out the window. The onslaught of bullets didnāt have to take you and your reputation out, when your partner was doing such a fine job of that. Two of Headquartersā best agents messing up one of the most classified operation on the board ā over a damn Alexandre Vauthier gown.Ā Ā
You threw a side glare towards the man who was currently reloading his gun beside you. Head reeling from all that happened within the span of the few minutes that just passed.
This was a mess you definitely, did not see coming. Ā
āYou look ridiculous in that!ā
Were you personally offended by that comment?
Yes.
On the contrary, you felt like city royalty in lavish shiraz velvet. Unfortunately it proved to be too much for Jung Wooyoung to handle, if his erratic mood spoke otherwise over the days leading up to this assignment.
You been through the strategy so many times over you could recite every detail in your sleep. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into, and so did Agent Jung.
But that didnāt mean he had to like it. Not one bit.