#And who at the complex is going to complain?

[bambisnc]

(   ➴ ) 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲 𝖧𝖨𝖬, 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖬𝖤! ♡

୨ৎ. 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 .. 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌.

### . STARRING ⌢ p.sh ⋆ oneshot + 1.2k // kissing + reader has an ex + i need you guys to j trust me on this please ˖ ✧

[ 陰 🤍 ] ─── i have nawt read the manga before anyone asks; i found the name super funny & then a little lightbulb in my head went "!!" ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‹ FILE.ZIP 𝟹

park sunghoon usually prides himself on being a man of dignity and honor.

he’s heard people around him say this; multiple remarks of how his moral conduct seems totally unshakable. a pillar whose boundaries not one single temptation could consider breaking, they'd say.

but, he finds himself thinking, if all that were really true, he wouldn’t really be in this position—with heeseung's girlfriend all pretty in front of him, pinned up against a wall—would he?

not that he's complaining about the sight in front of him, of course. 

you are nothing less of a divine vision with slightly swollen and spit slicked lips, your delicately applied gloss now smudged from the earlier … activities.

his eyes take in the loose strands of hair framing your features, the way your eyes are delectably glazed over and the lightest sheen of sweat highlighting it all. it’s a wonder he’s able to resist diving right back in and claiming your lips in another kiss, really.

heeseung should've known better. 

he should've known that leaving you alone with sunghoon could not possibly lead to any good outcomes.

one doesn't harbour unrequited feelings for months and leave scott-free, with zero after effects. there’s bound to be some catches.

sunghoon blamed many other things too.

firstly, the sun. for subjecting him to its sweltering heat and for rendering him into a half-dazed stupor. for being the reason you were wearing that gorgeous sundress, casual but enough to catch the attention of all the others lazily roaming around the open shopping complex.

secondly, he blamed ni-ki. like, did the boy really have to drag heeseung away because he saw a michael jackson DVD (limited versions only) on display?

granted, that particular compilation was seemingly not available anywhere else without having to pay a price so scandalous that it hurt to think about. and the singer did happen to be ni-ki's favorite.

but gosh, how selfish could people be?

most importantly, though, he blamed your ex.

for? his mere existence.

it had been going just fine, peachy even, right until that person showed up, he recalls, absentmindedly tracing your lower lip—doing his best to ignore the expectant gaze you were directing towards him lest he end up doing something he'd regret.

well. regret more than he does already, that is.

when your previously cheery smile had suddenly been replaced by a pall of worry, he couldn’t help but immediately mirror your concern. you had anxiously clutched the edge of his sleeve, murmuring that you had just happened to see song eunseok. also known as your ex. 

“i just… i really don’t want to face him right now.”

that was understandable. sunghoon wouldn’t want to see the face of the man who had been such a horrible boyfriend to you (your words, not his; circa last july, pre-heeseung era) either, lest he end up lobbing a punch his way.

“do you think you could hide me?” he could practically see the unease wrapped in a sheath around you from the way you chewed on your lip, “please?...”

what was sunghoon supposed to reply to that? say no to your plea? as if he could ever.

so he did what any dutiful friend would do. he let you use him. 

an arm braced against the wall and another awkwardly fidgeting by his side—he wasn’t sure where it was considered appropriate to keep one’s hand while helping their friend’s girlfriend hide from an ex—he stood leaning towards you. 

his broader, taller frame could cover yours with laughable ease. should the ex boyfriend happen to glance your way, he wouldn’t even realize there was another person there.

it was fine even up until that point. it wasn’t like sunghoon couldn’t control himself and immediately took advantage of the situation. no matter how much he really, really wanted to.

he would never do that to heeseung or you. 

all he needed to do, he thought determinedly, was to not make eye contact and hope that this was over soon. 

but suddenly, you were tugging him closer, saying the position seemed way too odd, too awkward. and now he was closer to you than ever, and quite aware of the fact that he was sweating bullets. 

“hoon?... are you okay?” you had piped up, voice slightly muffled due to quite literally being pressed up against him, “you seem so flushed… is it because of the sun?”

no, it was most definitely not because of the sun.

he vaguely recalls replying back with some offhanded agreement to your words. you, bless your heart, had immediately brushed the back of your hand against his forehead, checking if he was truly okay.

sunghoon swore his breath hitched at the contact. noticeably.

only then did it sink in. the reduced proximity, the charged air brewing between your bodies. he really shouldn’t be getting any ideas.

"?..."

“i’m fine.” his voice was low, cautious. he ran his tongue across his lips, wetting them—a nervous tick of his. “you need to stop this.. a guy can get the wrong idea, you know?” 

you had only giggled at that airily, “no wrong ideas here, i promise.”

then, as if it was the most natural thing to do—it might as well have been, with how perfect it was—you had tipped your head upwards, placing a soft kiss right at the corner of his mouth.

“am i still being unclear?” your head was tilted at a 45° angle, playing off a cute innocence. 

... there was no way he could say no to that, rationality and morals be damned.

and so instead of gracing your teasing remark with a dignified comeback, he simply let you close the distance between your lips once again.

-

park sunghoon usually prides himself on being a man of dignity and honor, sure. but right now? right now, the only thing he’s sure of is that he’s fucked up. big time.

heeseung… one can only imagine how his friend would react to this information. none of the possible scenarios that run through his head are any good.

with a jolt, he jerks away; the hurt look on your face doing nothing to break his resolve. (mostly.) 

“this isn’t—this isn’t right. you have a boyfriend, heeseung… he—he’ll be devastated.”

“what?” confusion spreads across your face, genuine enough if he stopped to take it in. “sunghoon, no that’s not it—”

“we—it’s best we forget this happened. i, um,.. i won’t say anything to him.”

a blink. and you’re laughing. wait what?

“ah…” the way your head is thrown back as you struggle to keep a straight face almost distracts him. “heeseung is actually going to burst out laughing, oh my god.”

before he can even comprehend what that could mean, you show him your phone screen opened to a chat between you and your boyfriend (?).

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : dude if you’re planning on making out w/ hoon rn do NOT do it in front of me and niki i beg.

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : cause like it’s one thing having to hear ab how u bad u want him 24/7 (it gets to a point oh my god?)

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : go get ur man by all means but i do nawt need to be seeing allat !!!!!

“see? i only made him pretend we were together because eunseok was being a little bitch. it was super funny seeing his reaction, if that helps!”

sunghoon’s not sure if he wants to now laugh himself or instead cry. maybe both at the same time? he would rather not scare you off already though. hence, he does the next best thing. 

he kisses you once again. softer this time, as if he’s taking the time to savor the moment.

you part for air only when it becomes an absolute necessity. “what was that about?”

“i need to make up for lost time. all this while, i really thought i had no chance. and…” a pause that indicates he’s struggling to find the right words.

his tone is sheepish when he finally says what’s on his mind. 

“and... i could’ve been a better fake boyfriend, by the way. for the record.”

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[willow-the-mushacorn]

This happens way too often with duos like this. People complain about basic tropes being used too much yet they dumb down two characters who actually have a lot of complexity into basic tropes 😭

Just because Knuckles isn't as smart as Tails, doesn't mean he's not smart. Just because Tails isn't as strong as Knuckles, doesn't mean he's not strong. First off, Tails is a child, so of course he isn't as strong as Knuckles who's nearly twice his age! Little man hasn't even started puberty!

Second, there are different types of intelligence and strength. Tails may not be super physically strong, but he is brave when he needs to be, can keep a cool head under pressure, and is always there to do his part. He can get scared sometimes but he's a kid! Dealing with cataclysmic events! People be forgetting that they could not handle the kind of bs fictional characters go through with half the grace that the characters do, even if they "don't handle it well" 🙄

And Knuckles may not be a Man of Science, but he's smart in his own way. He might be stubborn, impulsive, and gullible at times, but that doesn't automatically make him an idiot. He's able to step back and make plans, and he can think and make logical conclusions. In IDW and Sonic Prime, he heads a rebellion!! (Well, an AU of him in Prime, but it's still him and I think New Yolk Knux is the most similar to the real one, but I digress-).

Also Sonic and Knuckles are very similar in a lot of ways, but I rarely see people dumbing down Sonic the same way they do with Knux.

People can have both brains and brawn 🤯🤯 Or some combination of the two 🤯🤯🤯🤯 Because most things in life are on a spectrum, not a perfect, neat little binary like we often want them to be

One of my bigger pet peeves is when Tails isn't considered strong and Knuckles isn't considered smart.

They get put in these rigid boxes sometimes where they can be one or the other but not both. But Knuckles has brains, Tails has brawn, and I will forever scream that from the rooftops.

Anyway my headcanon name for their team-up is now inspired by this rare good YouTube suggestion:

You get twice the fight and twice the flight I fear.

[erinknow]

City of The Dead

Rating: mature, mdni

Warnings: strangers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, blood, explicit(?) but no actual smut, mentions of sex, fluff

Word count: approximately 4k

Note from author: inspired by “CINEMA” music video and kdrama “Happiness”. Enjoy!!!🤍

“What was that?” you asked, straightening your back slightly and glancing around. The chilly air of the underground parking lot slipped under your jacket, making you shiver unpleasantly, but you paid no attention to the goosebumps on your arms. Your gaze was drawn into the darkness of the tunnel, where the lamps had long since burned out.

Seungmin tightened his grip on the baseball bat with his gloved hand, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders, and looked in the same direction as you.

“Let’s just go,” he exhaled, and you noticed the tension radiating from his lean figure.

Pressing your lips together and adjusting the strap of the backpack full of supplies you had stolen — though it hardly felt like stealing — from an abandoned store near your apartment complex, you followed Seungmin.

Glancing at his slightly tired face, you couldn’t help but note to yourself that you needed to trim his hair again; it was already starting to fall awkwardly onto his forehead and tickle his eyelashes. Last time, he’d been skeptical about your offer to help, but it had turned out pretty well — and he hadn’t complained.

He pressed the elevator button and stepped back slightly, closer to you, while glancing around cautiously. You closed your eyes for a second, hearing the distant, sickening howl of the infected echoing through the parking lot.

“Come on, come on,” you whispered nervously, biting your lip and watching the panel, counting the floors. Seungmin turned, peering into the dark tunnel. He looked focused, but you knew both of you were already exhausted from the day’s encounter with the infected, and one more fight — especially with no real way to escape — could be the end of you both.

Finally, in the suffocating silence, the loud, blessed sound of the elevator arriving and its doors sliding open echoed through the garage. Almost immediately, zombies responded from the tunnel, and the pounding of their feet reached your ears.

You grabbed Seungmin’s hand and yanked him into the elevator, frantically jabbing the door close button. Your breath caught in your throat as you glimpsed the rotting figures emerging into the light, sprinting toward you. They were still far, but you gripped Seungmin’s gloved hand tightly, and he squeezed back just as hard.

The doors closed, and the elevator began to rise, leaving the screams and howls behind. After two more floors, you finally exhaled, letting go of his hand and leaning against the wall.

“I thought we were dead,” Seungmin said, and you answered with a soft, nervous laugh — adrenaline still racing through your veins, keeping you from fully relaxing.

“Me too.”

He stood beside you, and you watched the numbers change in silence until the elevator stopped at the eighth floor. Thankfully, today you hadn’t run into any other residents — people you didn’t like one bit, who always bickered during the monthly meetings, constantly showing off and pretending to be something they weren’t. You could never trust them — not like you trusted Seungmin.

It was strange, really. You had hated each other once, just neighbors constantly at odds since day one when you asked him to turn down his music and he refused, saying he was rehearsing. Who would’ve thought that one day people would go mad with a contagious disease, turning into monsters that hunted the living? And who would’ve thought that you and Seungmin would choose to live together for safety, that his music would no longer irritate you, and that his presence would bring peace instead of anger?

Just like now, as he let you step out of the elevator first, his hand briefly touching your lower back as he walked beside you to your apartment. He stopped by the door, entering the code into the lock while you glanced up at the familiar number: 143.

As usual, he held the door open for you. You kicked off your sneakers in the hallway before walking further inside while he locked up, mirroring your actions and shedding his gloves, resting the baseball bat against the wall. You remembered how he used to love playing baseball with his friends on weekends.

Now, he didn’t even know if they were still alive — communication was completely cut off, and the radio only repeated the same grim news about the growing number of infected and empty promises from politicians to save the survivors. But help never came. Weeks blurred into months, and hope was slowly bleeding away.

Neither of you knew if your families were still alive, but there was nothing you could do except wait and only venture outside when absolutely necessary.

And that waiting — in total uncertainty — was slowly eating you alive. You didn’t talk about it, but you didn’t need to; it was clear in Seungmin’s empty gaze, in your own nightly nightmares, in the exhaustion and dark circles under your eyes, and even in the slight weight loss from rationing food.

You headed to the kitchen, dropping your bag onto the floor and leaning against the table, hearing Seungmin’s quiet footsteps behind you.

“How are you?” he asked casually.

“I’m fine,” you answered after a brief pause. “And you?”

“I’ll live,” he shrugged, bending down next to the bag and beginning to pull out the contents. Feeling your gaze, he added, “It’s my turn to make dinner tonight. Go take a shower.”

You frowned.

“Is it?” you said, glancing toward the small chore schedule pinned on the wall — but he stood up and easily took your hand, turning you to face him.

“Just go.”

You stared at each other: his dark eyes, usually filled with teasing mischief, now uncharacteristically soft.

“Alright,” you said finally, pressing your lips together. He hesitated just a second longer than necessary before letting go of your wrist, and you exhaled quietly.

You stayed under the hot water until your skin turned red and the mirror fogged up. Drying off, you pulled on a familiar jumper over your T-shirt and soft pajama pants before returning to the kitchen. Seungmin had taken off his jacket, remaining in a shirt and jeans with, standing with his back to you, stirring something in the pot. Your heart skipped at the sight of his broad shoulders, and for a wild moment, you wanted to walk over and hug him, feeling like he could protect you from anything — even if the sky fell.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stood beside him, glancing at the pleasant-smelling kimchi jjigae.

“Go and shower. I’ll finish up here,” you said, reaching for the spatula.

He gave you a small, amused smile, meeting your gaze.

“You won’t mess it up?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully with your elbow, making him fake a pout.

“How cruel.”

You laughed, shoving him lightly again as he dodged, smiling as well.

“I’ll just eat it all myself,” you warned.

He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, and your eyes widened slightly, not fully processing what had just happened.

“Liar.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall. A moment later, you heard the bathroom door close.

“Idiot,” you muttered under your breath, stirring the stew and ignoring the growing warmth in your cheeks.

***

Days went by, but help never arrived. Going outside was tantamount to suicide, as the number of zombies had increased dramatically. The last time, you and Seungmin barely managed to escape.

The balcony door was slightly ajar, letting in a gentle summer breeze that swayed the curtains. You were folding freshly washed bed linens into neat piles, occasionally stopping to lift a glass of water to your lips.

Seungmin was resting on the couch nearby after washing the dishes. You had chosen his apartment to live in because it was much larger than yours, and now you shared household duties between the two of you. This week, you were handling the laundry, while he took care of the dishes.

His eyes were closed, and his face was relaxed. He had fallen asleep, forgetting to take off his glasses. His hair no longer fell into his face, as you had given him a haircut last weekend. Before Seungmin, you had never helped anyone with this, but each time it got better. The corner of your lips curled up at the memory of him sitting in the bathroom chair in front of the mirror while you flitted around him with scissors. He occasionally made jokes, but mostly sat still, gazing at you in the mirror.

“What?” you asked, meeting his gaze in the reflection.

He remained silent.

You involuntarily stared at his face — sleeping, calm. He wasn’t furrowing his brows or looking upset, and that made you happy. It also made you a little embarrassed because he was incredibly handsome, even when he was just breathing.

You shook your head, pushing those thoughts away, and focused back on your task.

When you finished, you were about to go back to your bedroom, where you shared one bed. In the first weeks of living together, you tried to take turns sleeping on the couch, but soon gave up because it was uncomfortable, and neither of you was getting enough rest. Now, you slept together, with a pillow in the middle of the bed to divide you. Though, it often ended up on the floor by morning, but that was a minor detail.

You paused, glancing at him before sighing. You gently covered him with the blanket from the back of the couch. Then you hesitated, carefully took off his glasses, folded them, and set them on the table before leaving, never noticing the serene smile that spread across his face.

***

In your childhood, your mom told you that the feeling of falling in love was similar to the feeling of fear. You always thought it was some strange nonsense, but now, you suddenly understood what she meant.

Everything was going according to plan. You went on another shopping trip, when suddenly you encountered the infected, and everything happened too quickly. One moment, you saw Seungmin in front of you, and the next, he was knocked to the ground by a zombie. Without thinking, you swung a bat at the infected, sending it flying into the nearest wall, and quickly grabbed Seungmin’s hand to help him up.

He shook his head, then quickly squeezed your hand in return, and you ran. You ran with all your might, not stopping despite the burning in your lungs, the exhaustion, and the pain in your muscles. You kept running, and you could barely remember how you ended up in the apartment.

Seungmin slid down the hallway wall, breathing heavily. You looked at him, hearing your own heavy breathing as you knelt down in front of him. Your trembling hand found the sleeve of his jacket, gripping the fabric tightly as your anxious eyes met his surprised ones.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused, and then his eyes widened. “You… are crying?”

You sniffed, quickly wiping your tears and lowering your head in embarrassment.

“What? Does something hurt?” Seungmin panicked, touching your hand, and more tears flowed from his question.

“Better worry about yourself,” you replied, wiping your tears. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did they bite you?” you asked, scanning his face for injuries.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, still stunned.

“Good,” you answered, louder than necessary, and stood up, heading to the bathroom to take a shower and figure things out.

Why had you cried? Was it fear for yourself? No. Definitely not. But admitting the real reason, even to yourself, was something you refused to acknowledge. You had also made a fool of yourself in front of Seungmin…

You scolded yourself, but Seungmin didn’t say a word all evening. He simply placed a bowl of seaweed soup in front of you before retreating to your bedroom.

Late that night, when the room was only dimly lit by the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, you woke up, despite being exhausted, staring at the ceiling. You could feel how your shirt clung uncomfortably to your body, just like your hair stuck to your sweaty face. You carefully sat up so as not to wake Seungmin, trying to calm your breathing that had been disrupted by a nightmare, but none of your usual techniques worked. So, you quietly stood up, threw on a light sweater, and quietly opened the balcony door, stepping outside and leaning on the railing. From below, you could hear the distant wail of the infected, and see a few figures wandering in the darkness. At night, they always came out, disliking the sunlight during the day.

You shivered from a sudden gust of wind, biting your lip and wiping the tears that had welled up with the sleeve of your sweater.

“Idiot. Stop crying,” you whispered to yourself, exhaling sharply.

And then you felt his warm hands wrap around you from behind, pulling you against his solid chest. You froze, feeling Seungmin press his face into your neck, his breath tickling your ear.

“Why did you leave?” he asked quietly, and the deep, post-sleep voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“And why did you get up?” you replied, questioning him in return.

“I asked first,” he whispered, inhaling the scent of your hair.

You swallowed, then said, “I had a nightmare.”

You might have thought he didn’t hear you if his arms hadn’t tightened around you.

“Your turn to answer.”

You heard a soft chuckle by your ear.

“I missed you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

“I can’t sleep without you.”

“And what about the pillow, the boundaries?” you tried, trying to keep your composure.

He exhaled loudly against your neck, sending a rush of goosebumps across your body.

“To hell with the pillow and the boundaries,” he said, and you felt his lips almost weightlessly touch your neck.

“Why were you crying?” he asked, gently leaving another kiss on your jaw when he didn’t meet any resistance.

“I was scared,” you said, then felt the need to add, knowing he was waiting for more: “For you. When that zombie attacked you today, I thought I was going to die from worry.”

He paused, as if pondering something, before pulling back. Your heart dropped, scared that he would reject you, thinking your words were silly and unnecessary.

But instead, he softly touched your shoulders, turning you toward him and studying your face. He didn’t laugh at your concerns. His expression was serious but relaxed, as if this was what he had wanted to hear. There was something else in his gaze, something dark and unfamiliar, and it made you feel as though the temperature had risen a few degrees, causing you to blush.

“You worried about me?” he asked softly, leaning in closer, meeting your gaze. “You say you were afraid you’d die from worrying?” he continued.

“But you’re still denying the obvious,” he whispered.

“Seungmin…” you began.

“We don’t need that stupid pillow,” his face twisted, and he squeezed your shoulders. “And stop running every time you’re in pain. Just tell me. Tell me everything. Wake me up in the middle of the night, cry as much as you want. Just stay with me,” he touched your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Seungmin,” you whispered, feeling tears begin to sting your eyes again.

He exhaled.

“Yes, darling?”

And you let the tears fall down your cheeks. Seungmin pulled you into his embrace, burying his face in your neck, his hands holding you tightly. And you cried — quietly, letting all the tears and emotions that had built up over the past months flow free.

“You’re amazing, you’ve been so strong,” he whispered, his eyes wet too. You were both so broken and battered by life that there was no strength left for anything. You weren’t sure you would still be here if he hadn’t been with you, and he felt the same. You had become everything to each other in this world, spiraling into ruin, and you weren’t planning to let go of each other for even a second. Time was slipping away, slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Maybe you would die. So why not take the risk?

This didn’t feel like a melodramatic tearjerker. He pulled you to him, kissing you hungrily as if it were the last time. Your teeth clicked together as he guided you into the apartment, only parting from you long enough to close the balcony door before he was everywhere again, taking the breath from your lungs.

Your back hit the bed’s mattress, and he loomed over you. His hands traced every curve of your body as his mouth captured each of your ragged breaths. He was a little like a drunken man, but not from alcohol — from you, the feel of your skin against his, your fingers in his hair, which you tugged at as he lowered himself further and further.

The clothes had long been thrown onto the floor and forgotten, and his hand slid under your back, holding you steady as you arched towards him. His lips caught your soft moans, while his other hand gripped your hip, pushing it up and leaving small red marks on it from his fingers. He kissed your shoulders, collarbones, chest—everything he could touch, every inch. He bit your shoulder, occasionally throwing his head back in ecstasy, chasing his high, whispering sweet nonsense mixed with dirty words into your ears at which your face grew even redder, the movement of his hips making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl.

When he fell onto his back beside you, breathing heavily, the dawn was just beginning outside the window, and the sun still hadn’t risen. The sheets were crumpled, and the bedroom, now truly yours, was hot, smelling of sweat and sex.

You felt his gaze on you, and then you felt him pulling you closer, leaving a kiss on your temple.

“You need to drink some water,” he murmured into your skin. “I’ll be right back, don’t fall asleep yet.”

He left, and when the warmth of his body left you, you found you had no strength to move, blinking stupidly and staring at the ceiling. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water in his hand and a wet towel. He gently wiped your thighs and held the bottle to your lips, carefully supporting your head while you drank.

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly, kissing you again.

You kissed him back and met his gaze.

“Better than ever,” you replied, weakly smiling, and he smiled back, running his hand through your hair.

“Lie next to me,” you mumbled, feeling fatigue take over. He obediently lay down, pulling you close and closing his eyes.

“Sleep. And when you wake up, I’ll be right here.”

***

It was a good time, filled with kisses, laughter, and a temporary escape from everything happening around you. You felt safe, needed, and loved for the first time in a long while. Seungmin had found an old player and music discs, and even brought out his guitar, hitting all the notes with his beautiful voice, though occasionally missing them because of his laughter, watching your awkward dancing. Nevertheless, his eyes were full of tenderness, and your heart melted.

You watched movies in the evenings, cooked together, or had long conversations in the bedroom, lying under the blanket in each other’s arms. You started wearing his clothes, and at first, he pretended to be annoyed, calling you a thief, but the smile on his face gave him away.

You even took out the old camera from his closet while going through things, and recorded a video, talking about how life had changed, frequently interrupted by jokes to lighten the mood.

“I love you,” he said one day, in a completely casual tone, while you were painting your nails with a nail polish you had found in a store during your latest outing into the outside world.

You looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

He smiled, leaning against the back of the couch, looking at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“I said I love you.”

You blinked, then blinked again, and again, and he laughed, watching your face turn redder by the second.

“That’s beautiful,” he said, reaching out to touch your face, still smiling. “When you blush, I really want to devour you.”

You shook your head, trying to hit his hand.

“You’re annoying,” you muttered as he caught your hand and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“Careful, you’ll ruin your nails,” he smirked. “And we both know that’s a lie. You love me.”

You pressed your lips together in annoyance.

“I do,” you said, noticing how his eyes sparkled. “Sometimes it feels like I love you too much.”

He pulled you closer, kissing you.

“Nonsense. I never have enough of you.”

***

But there were tough times too. Like when you were bitten, and you panicked day and night, unable to sleep or eat, worried you might harm Seungmin. You clearly remembered the look of horror on his face when he saw the blood after pulling the infected person away from you. You were very afraid of becoming like that.

You thought about running away so he would be safe, but he firmly refused, making you promise that you would get through it together and that you would tell him if you felt any changes.

You waited, nervously removing the bandage and looking at the ugly bite mark on your leg. But the days passed, and nothing happened, while the disinfected wound healed.

“This is good,” Seungmin muttered, examining the bite and relaxing a little.

You could see how hard it had been for him all this time. How he hadn’t slept, worrying about you, how he checked your temperature and pulse every hour at night.

“Sorry,” you whispered as he looked at you. “You were so worried.”

He cupped your face in his hands, smiling faintly.

“Why are you apologising, silly? I should be the one apologizing for this happening to you.”

“But it’s not your fault,” you replied.

“And yet I feel guilty.”

And you knew he wasn’t lying. He had been torturing himself with the thought that it should have been him, that it was all his fault.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you pulled him closer, fixing his hair.

“You’re not to blame, do you hear me? Seungmo. You saved me back then, and you’re always by my side. Don’t you dare blame yourself, okay?”

He looked into your eyes for a long moment before sighing helplessly and nodding.

***

A month later, it became clear that you were immune to the virus, as no changes had occurred or were expected, and the wound only left a scar. You returned to your normal routine, even recording another video, talking about this strange incident.

Meanwhile, you could feel Seungmin’s nervousness whenever the topic of another outing came up. You tried to reassure him that everything would be fine and that there was still some time before it, so he should stop worrying, and you firmly told him that he wasn’t going anywhere alone anyway.

Although it became a little easier after accepting the fact that nothing was likely to change, and that there was no hope for rescue, especially after surviving a zombie bite, it was still just as scary as before to go out, but now you had some vague assurance that not everything was lost. You worried more about Seungmin, unsure if he had immunity to the virus himself.

But you didn’t have to find out, because one day, there was a knock on the door. Seungmin approached it cautiously, meeting your gaze, tightening his grip on the knife in his hand before peeking through the peephole.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and then his eyes widened.

“What’s going on?” you nervously asked, watching in surprise as Seungmin opened the door and immediately hugged the stranger.

And the stranger turned out to be none other than Lee Minho—his friend, whom you vaguely remembered from before the zombie apocalypse, when they used to meet often and play catch together at the park. Behind Minho was another familiar guy, whom Seungmin also hugged. You think his name was Jeongin. Both were in military uniforms.

“You… How…?” Seungmin couldn’t gather himself, and you rubbed his back, noticing the tears in his eyes.

“Did you think we were going to leave you?” Minho smirked, but it was clear he was happy to see his friend. Then, Jeongin and Minho noticed you, greeting you with surprise, obviously remembering your past tension with Seungmin.

They explained that as soon as they escaped their area with infected people, they joined the other survivors and had been trying to reach you for a long time. Now the rest of their group was clearing the complex of zombies, and a helicopter was waiting for the survivors on the roof. They reassured Seungmin that the other five of his friends were alive and well.

It took you and Seungmin no more than fifteen minutes to throw the essentials into your backpacks, change clothes, and go back into the corridor to meet Minho and Jeongin. Minho looked at your joined hands, then smirked, glancing at Seungmin’s face.

“So, are you two together now?”

Seungmin squeezed your hand tighter, and you looked at him.

“Together,” he smiled and turned his gaze to you.

In the helicopter, sitting next to Seungmin, your fingers intertwined, you were sure that everything would be alright now.

[oculusxcaro]

Khare had not experienced fear like this since her time in the underground facility almost a year ago, her heart damn near stopping in terror at the sound of her door getting kicked in. She'd just gotten home from work not even an hour ago, getting ready to soak in the bath for a few hour's sleep when a pair of black-clad thugs with mean faces and even meaner eyes suddenly forced their way into her apartment, immediately grabbing and trashing every object within the vicinity. "Get out! Go on, all of you get out of here! Go!" Loud voices could be heard echoing throughout the complex amidst shouts, cries and yells as other tenants found themselves experiencing the same situation as Khare, looking on in horror as they were forcibly turfed out of the only place they could call home. Khare blinked slowly, struggling to comprehend exactly what was happening when one of the two men in her apartment growled, grabbing her by her good arm and dragging her out into the corridor. She thrashed, mind suddenly suddenly catching up to the very real awful situation she had suddenly found herself in but before she could bite the guy manhandling her, he had already gotten her to the stairs, pushing her down them without so much as a word. A 3DS soon followed after, her 3DS clattering wildly down the steps along with other objects and items of clothing, leaving Khare unable to do anything but whimper as she tried to grab what she could amidst the confusion. Other people's possessions soon joined the growing heap at the bottom of the stairs, tenants grabbing anything and everything they could even if it wasn't theirs, too afraid to stay even a minute longer as the thugs began screaming at them to get the fuck out now, or else bullets would start flying if any of them were so much as seen near the building. With shaking hands, Khare managed to grab her work uniform (still dirty from last night's shift), her broken 3DS, some odds and ends that weren't hers and a bag to put it all in. It was a miracle she'd even managed to grab that much, scrambling amidst a surge of grabbing hands fighting to grab whatever they could carry upon their impromptu eviction. "Now get the fuck out! This place is under new management and you lot ain't welcome!" One of the thugs sneered, kicking an old threadbare teddy down to the group. Khare recognized the bear - it was often carried around by the girl of the family living down from her, probably having already been kicked out. She went to pick it up, only just managing to grab it before a heavy boot stomped on where it had been just second agos. Narrowly dodging that same boot aiming a kick at her head, Khare quickly joined the throng, once again falling down the steps outside and getting tripped over a few times by other people. What the hell had just happened? Khare found she could breathe again, if somewhat raggedly from the stress of everything that had just happened and getting trod on once or twice. Shaken, battered and bruises, she scrambled to her feet, holding both bag and bear close while avoiding the glances of people at their windows watching the eviction go down. Khare couldn't see the nice family with the little girl anywhere, glancing back and forth at people, the people she'd once lived amongst until just yesterday hurrying to leave, now having to find somewhere else to live...

"Oh God..." Khare mumbled, feeling like she was about to pass out. Her initial fear had been that they'd found her, had come back to drag her back to the facility again but in another way this was almost worse, for she had found herself out on the streets once again with nowhere to go. Where was she going to go now?

[hauntingblue]

Oden's prophecy of young pirates coming to save wano becoming yamato's hope for his freedom.... and him becoming oden because of it.... it's just so good... on the other side luffy taking ace's spot for liberating yamato... I think I hauve covid

[tremendously-crazy]

"i'm sorry i committed the crime of being born this way," says michael, fourteen year old cisgender heterosexual male after a teenage girl says she'd pick the bear

[juniperhillpatient]

sometimes you just gotta stop reading the blocks of text on here & say like. I don’t care about or understand or believe in whatever the fuck you’re talking about & move on. & sometimes you gotta vague post about it to feel better

[kavehayati]

AAAH I have a mutual who’s 18 and he sorta kinda is flirting with this one guy who is a minor as a joke of course ( to which a concerned anon said that it’s weird ) but I can’t help but flashback to er*s

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Theyre going to think I like canon and purely canon if I keep going on like this

[bitegore]

baru cormorant seems to me to be a series that suffers miserably for me having read machineries of empire first. unfortunately everything BC is doing strikes me as something MoE did better and more believably and with much a greater and more grounded eye for how systems, complex system interaction, and oppression like. work

[aeide-thea]

like, someone posted an article recently that was like 'i didn't like these books because the main characters were women who slept with women but weren't sufficiently enlightened about it for me as a queer woman to feel Represented,' and i just felt like. i bet i wouldn't enjoy those books either, judging from the reviewer's description! but faced with a review that's like 'these characters had attitudes i found unpleasant'—iirc a tendency to ironic detachment and internalized fatphobia respectively, which, to be clear, i expect i would also find unpleasant! but those are attitudes that plenty of real young women do have; are we arguing it's only acceptable to tell stories about the sort of people we'd personally want to befriend?—'so i didn't find their stories nourishing,' it's hard for me not to think, okay, fair enough, but—should 'nourishing' really be the definitive metric for art? should 'savory'? an author's job is, after all, to make art, not food…

[khal-eventing]

Netflix ATLA has been renewed for season two and season three and I cannot be more excited! The way they're retelling the story is absolutely brilliant, and there's so much love being poured into the story.

Ofc it's also very satisfying seeing this happen despite all the hate from people- if you want to watch the original go fricken watch it. No one is forcing you to go watch the live action just so you can write a lengthy post about how it pales in comparison (when I honestly liked it better but comparing the two is like comparing apples and oranges, they're both spectacular in their own way).

Anyway thank god it got renewed and I am so excited to be in this world again and see how it's developed for a new generation.

[leatherbookmark]

a thing i have JUST realized, isn't the human brain amazing lol -- is that we talk about izzy's thoughts and feelings on ed, on blackbeard, about how he serves one but not the other, etc, etc, and how it means he never loved or even respected the True Man Underneath It All but rather the bloodthirsty legend of a pirate--

e x c e p t izzy is not the first person who makes the distinction between edward and blackbeard. it's ed himself, when he says "actually, i want to be called edward from now on".

before, when he was with stede, it didn't bother him at all that the crew called him blackbeard. that was his name! he was blackbeard, what else would they call him. only stede and izzy got to "ed" or "edward" him, because they were closer -- stede was his first close friend, izzy was his friend and first mate for decades. (note that fang was with ed the longest, but he doesn't call him by his name! you gotta deserve it.)

izzy doesn't do anything inappropriate or out of proportion when he snaps at the crew to call him blackbeard or captain -- that's who ed is, is supposed to be, to them. they're not friends! they even call stede captain, and have you seen that guy?

it's ed that makes the connection between his current state: draped in fuchsia robes, singing sad songs about how sad he is, showing his vulnerable and emotional state in front of people who are supposed to respect and trust his authority. and by that he splendidly loses that authority, to the point that wee john calls him ed, and when izzy snaps at him for disrespecting his captain, ed goes no, actually, yknow what, do call me edward! and then he goes on to encourage the crew to sing as well and hey, actually, why are we being pirates! we should do a talent show!

the distinction is clear here. before all that, in izzy's eyes, his boss was blackbeard, captain, ed/edward -- different names for different occasions, but one and the same guy. but now? this guy singing songs in a pink bathrobe doesn't want to be called blackbeard, he's edward! ed time now! we're going to eat marmalade and express our feelings in front of everyone! and hold talent shows! Ya Hoo !

yeah, it's no wonder izzy doesn't want that. he wants his competent captain back, and this current dude, edward? he's not him. so, uh,

[orcelito]

I'm in fuckin bitch mode today I guess

[shithowdy]

i'm turning off reblogs for this post because everyone has collectively decided to piss on the poor and ignore my emphasis on this being about so-called original settings and instead made the post almost exclusively about rwby fix-it fics

if your "original story/rpg" idea is rooted in the premise of "what if [existing franchise] was good?" then just start over. i am not kidding. your ego is like insulation spray foam being inserted into the cracks of the premise-- sure it fills the gaps, but it's beyond ugly and everyone can see it.