#I was just thinking about this again lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatfeelinwhenyou · 11 hours ago

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My dearest Yve,

I actually teared up reading this—no joke. The fact that you took the time to write such an in-depth analysis and appreciation for the little details means the world to me. It genuinely overwhelmed me (in the best way possible). So, in return, I’m going to take my time to respond to each and every one of your comments. But first, I owe you an apology for taking so long to reply... ms girl had a little detour to A&E over the weekend LMFAO (I’m fine now!).

You raised such a great point about how loud MC was when she threw the can. I actually debated whether I should keep that in, but ultimately, I left it because I felt it reflected the impulsive nature of humans. At that moment, she was starving and had risked her life to find food only to discover that it was rotten. I wanted to capture that raw frustration. The fact that this was the very first paragraph and you already caught onto such a small detail blows my mind.

YES! In every zombie film or show I’ve seen, the biggest threat is almost never the zombies. And that’s the irony, isn’t it? Because zombies were humans once. It really highlights how, dead or undead, human beings are always the ultimate apex predators.

Thank you for appreciating the comparative parallel in the nightmare line EHEHEHE

When I was planning her character, the only thing I knew for certain was that she needed to be independent. By extension, that meant making her a complete badass who doesn’t rely on others to survive. I think this also stems from her past experiences with survival groups and after being on her own for so long, she’s developed an instinct to act rather than wait for problems to resolve themselves. She’s practical and hardened by her reality, but at the core of it all, she’s still human, with fragile emotions beneath the surface.

OMG, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for noticing that none of the boys stepped in to help her! Having them swoop in to save her would have completely undermined her character. She survived almost a year alone in a zombie apocalypse—she’s not about to need a man to rescue her from one zombie. Also, “In your bed” is crazy, by the way!

THANK YOU AGAIN for noticing the fact that both the reader and MC don’t immediately know who’s speaking? That was so difficult to write during the motel sequence, but I’m so glad it paid off. And Ni-ki being that obvious? LMAO.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you actually take notes while reading. You are truly one of a kind, and honestly, every writer deserves a reader like you.

Even though you told me not to answer, I'm going to do it anyway. Yes, you are a freak for enjoying the scenes where she's running for her life. BUT, I am also a freak for writing them. So really, we’re just in this together.

I knew Jay was the perfect fit for the cautious character because, in my mind, he’s someone who is wise and learns from experience. I actually debated between him and Sunghoon for this role but ultimately went with Jay. Also, JAYWON.

You are so valid for saying you would’ve up and left too. Honestly, same. The only reason MC didn’t was because she didn’t want to be like the people from her last group. As pragmatic as she is, she hates being proven wrong.

So, we’re both SE Asian, Libras, AND Jungwon-biased? Shayla, tell me this isn’t fate.

AGREED ABOUT THAT TRAIN TO BUSAN CHARACTER. Had me pulling out my hair watching. The selfish, stubborn characters always survive too long for my liking. And it makes sense because If you put yourself first, you stand a better chance of making it out alive.

To clear up any confusion about how the zombies in this AU function, they rely on whatever senses are still available to them. I assume you were referring to the line “empty eye sockets seem to bore into you.” In that case, the zombie had no eyes and was relying on sound cues. Later on, I used “milky eyes” to describe those that do still have their vision. Basically, they react to whatever they can—sound, the smell of blood, movement—if something grabs their attention, they go for it!

That’s it. That’s the message. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

XOXO, Nat <3

SAFE & SOUND — part 1

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 14k

MASTERLIST

Rotten.

The can of tuna you’ve risked your life to retrieve from the mart in the next neighbourhood is rotten. Just like everything else roaming the streets.

The smell hits you first, sharp and metallic, curling through the air like a mocking laugh. It’s only when you peer into the greyish sludge that you know for sure. Gagging, you launch the can across the dimly lit room. The clang as it hits the wall feels louder than it should, echoing against the hollow silence. A greasy smear marks its path before it rolls to a stop.

Your stomach tightens, but not from hunger—not entirely. It’s exhaustion, or frustration, or both, a familiar cocktail of feelings that churns in your gut. You press a hand to your stomach, willing it to stay quiet. The small victories matter now, even if they’re as simple as keeping quiet.

“Figures,” you mutter, wiping your hands on the knees of your tattered jeans. The word feels heavy in the thick silence of the abandoned community building you’ve been calling home—a makeshift fortress that’s only just kept you alive for the past year.

The windows are boarded up with planks you scavenged from nearby wreckage, letting in only the faintest cracks of moonlight, casting fractured shadows on the walls. The small corner where you sleep is enclosed by a barricade of furniture you've managed to tie together with ropes and scraps of cloth you’ve gathered. It’s not perfect, but it’s held so far.

Outside, the telltale groans of the undead float through the night air, mingling with the distant sound of screams and breaking glass. You’ve learned to tune it out, to pretend that the world hasn’t fallen apart.

But every so often, when the noises grow too close or too many, the illusion shatters, leaving behind a pit of fear in your stomach that no amount of fortification can fill.

You lean back, letting your head hit the wall. The cracks in the paint catch against the rough weave of your jacket, the sound gritty and small. Your mind drifts back to that fateful day, the day everything went to shit.

You’d only been living in Seoul for a month, you were barely unpacked, just starting to memorise the labyrinth of subway lines, the shortcuts to your university. University acceptance had felt like the first step towards something bigger, something brighter. You can still see your parents’ faces, lit with pride, when you shared the news. Getting into a university in Seoul—it’s like gaining instant bragging rights for life.

Except now, none of it matters. Those things out there couldn’t care less about your alma mater, whether you’re earning a six-figure salary or pulled from the gutter. To them, you’re just another meal on legs—flesh, blood, and bone all blending into the same, mindless craving.

You’d always thought you’d know what to do in a zombie apocalypse. Every movie and survival guide said the same thing:

Avoid the cities. Get out fast.

So when the news started to break, you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed a bag—essentials only—and set out, determined to make it back to your parents in the province. You didn’t even pause to think about how impossible it might be.

But the city had other plans. You hadn’t even made it ten blocks before the streets were overrun. A tide of chaos, of screams and shoving bodies—alive and not—forced you off course.

The community building was a last-ditch refuge, its doors flung open to anyone desperate enough to run for them. You’d barely made it inside before the barricades went up. It wasn’t the plan, but then again, nothing about survival ever is.

At first, it felt like a haven. There were enough supplies to keep everyone fed—if barely. Dozens of survivors shared the space, most of them too old or too scared to leave. The rations were thin, one meal a day if you were lucky, but it was enough.

You and a handful of the younger survivors took turns venturing out, gathering what you could from nearby shops and houses. It wasn’t much, but it worked.

For a time.

When the convenience store was stripped bare, you moved to the supermarket. When that was picked clean, you ventured further. Each trip took you deeper into danger, the risk growing with every step. Supplies dwindled. The fear grew sharper, harder to ignore.

People started to die—some to the undead, others to hunger, and still others to the kind of cruelty that only surfaces when survival is on the line.

You learned quickly that it wasn’t just the zombies you had to fear. You’ve seen it firsthand: the way desperation changes people.

At first, it was small things—arguments over ration sizes, whispers of distrust. But then the small petty arguments turned into fights, and fights turned into bloodshed.

One by one, people either left to take their chances elsewhere or fell victim to the chaos within. A high school student, he had barely turned eighteen, stabbed a man over a tin of peaches. A woman abandoned her own mother to save herself when the barricade was breached.

Survival strips away more than flesh—it strips away the pretence of civility, leaving only the raw, animalistic instinct to endure at any cost. It’s not just the undead that keep you awake at night—it’s the memory of what people are capable of becoming.

So when the barricade failed during a particularly viscous storm and you’d barely escaped with your life, you dragged what little you could salvage to this corner of the building, patching up the holes as best as possible. Alone, because it was safer that way.

Now, alone in the faint light of your makeshift fortress, the weight of it all presses down on you. The loneliness, the hunger, the constant, gnawing terror—it’s all too much. But you shove it aside, because there’s no room for weakness here.

Weakness gets you killed.

Your stomach growls again, insistent, and you grit your teeth. You’ll have to go out again soon. The thought sends a chill through you, but there’s no other choice. Survival doesn’t wait for fear to subside.

Taking a deep breath, you stand and reach for your weapon—a rusted crowbar that’s seen more use than you’d like to admit. Tomorrow, you’ll go out again, search for food, risk what’s left of your life to keep it from ending.

For now, you sit in the dark and listen. To the groans. To the screams. To the sound of your own ragged breathing. And try not to dream.

A loud thunk from below jolts you awake, not that you were fully unconscious in the first place. Your entire body goes rigid as you strain to listen. Another thunk. Then a scrape, like something heavy being dragged across the ground floor. Your mind races—it could be the wind, or maybe another scavenger. Or it could be them.

Your grip on the crowbar tightens as you slowly push yourself off the floor. You tiptoe toward the staircase leading down to the lobby. The wooden stairs creak under your weight as you inch down them, and you wince at each sound. They might as well be gunshots in the stillness.

Sweat beads on your forehead as you reach the landing and peer into the dark hallway beyond. Shadows shift and flicker in the faint moonlight filtering through cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The dragging sound comes again, closer this time, and your grip tightens until the ridged metal of the crowbar bites into your skin. Then, a growl echoes from the darkness. Low. Guttural. Not human.

You back up instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Your foot catches on a loose piece of debris, and you stumble, barely catching yourself on the railing. The noise you make is small but loud enough to stir the growling into a frenzy. The shuffling grows faster, more erratic.

They’re coming.

“Shit,” you hiss under your breath, scrambling back up the stairs. You’ve rehearsed this scenario a hundred times in your head. Go to the second floor. Block the stairwell. Wait it out. It’s worked before, but something tells you this time is different. There’s too much noise, too many of them. And you’re already running low on supplies.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, the first figure emerges into the faint light below. Its flesh hangs from its bones in sickly, yellowed strips. Empty eye sockets seem to bore into you as it lets out a chilling moan. Behind it, more shadows lurch into view, a grotesque parade of decay and hunger.

You’re out of time.

Slamming the door to the stairwell shut, you shove a heavy desk against it and wedge the crowbar beneath the handle for good measure. The door shudders almost immediately under the weight of their assault, the moans and growls growing louder with each passing second. You back away, your mind racing for an escape route.

Your eyes dart to the boarded-up windows. It’s a long drop, but there’s a fire escape just a few feet out of reach. If you can break through the boards and make the jump, you might stand a chance. It’s a gamble, but so is staying here

And if you’re being honest, you’d rather plunge to your death than be torn apart limb by limb.

Grabbing a chair, you smash it against the nearest window. The wood splinters and cracks, but it holds firm. Behind you, the door creaks ominously as the barricade begins to give way. Desperation fuels your next swing, and the boards finally snap, leaving a jagged hole just big enough to climb through.

You don’t think—you just act, hauling yourself up and out onto the narrow ledge outside. The cold night air hits your face, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. Below, the fire escape beckons. You take a deep breath, brace yourself, and leap.

For a moment, you’re weightless. Then your hands slam into the metal railing, and you scramble to pull yourself up. Your palms sting, and your muscles scream in protest, but you don’t let go. Not when survival is so close.

Behind you, the door finally gives way. The sound of splintering wood and the enraged cries of the undead spur you into action. You don’t look back as you climb down the fire escape, each step taking you further from the nightmare above, and closer to the nightmare below.

When your feet finally hit the ground, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. But it’s short-lived. The streets are no safer than the building you just escaped. Shadows move in the distance, and the faint echo of shuffling feet reminds you that you’re never truly alone.

With nothing but the clothes on your back, you start to run. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you can’t stop. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you keep moving, fuelled by a singular, desperate thought: keep going. Always keep going. Because if you stop, even for a moment, it’ll all be over.

The groans follow you, relentless and hungry. You don’t dare look back. Instead, you focus on the narrow alleyways and shadowed streets ahead, praying you don’t make a wrong turn.

You finally spot a building—an auto store with its doors hanging slightly ajar. Without thinking, you rush inside, slamming the door shut behind you. Your hands fumble for something—anything—to block it, and you grab a rusted toolbox, wedging it against the frame. It feels pathetic, barely a barrier, but you convince yourself it’s better than nothing.

Your breaths come fast and shallow as you scan the room. Rows of dusty shelves cluttered with tools and car parts stretch before you, their contents untouched for what feels like decades. The air is stale and heavy, carrying the faint tang of motor oil. For a fleeting moment, the oppressive noise of the streets is muffled, and you almost feel safe.

But the reprieve is short-lived.

Voices. Human voices. Low, urgent, and drawing closer.

Your stomach twists as panic sets in, sharp and paralysing. You reach for a loose screwdriver on the floor and dart behind a shelf, crouching low. Dust clings to your clothes as you press yourself against the cold metal, willing yourself to disappear.

The door creaks open, and the toolbox scrapes uselessly across the floor. You curse silently under your breath. What a waste of effort.

Boots scuff against the ground as they enter. Voices—male voices—filter through the stale air, rough and laced with tension. “That was close, fuck.” one mutters, his voice shaking. You can hear him catching his breath, the fear in his tone unmistakable.

Looks like you weren’t the only one running from the horde that came out of nowhere.

“What the hell is The Future doing in the city?” another snaps, frustration cutting through the hushed atmosphere.

The Future...?

"They're looking for us, what else?" a third man grunts, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Talk about obsessive,” a fourth says, anger simmering beneath. “We escaped more than six months ago. How are they still trying to track us down?"

“That community… they’re worse than the dead. I’d rather take my chances out here than go back there.” Five.

“You don’t get it. They’ll hunt us down. They always do,” Six.

"I mean… We stole almost six months’ worth of supplies. And a van. I'd hunt us too." This one is a little cheeky. Seven.

"Shut the fuck up,” the gravelly voice growls. “You think this is funny?”

Your mind races. A community hunting them? You’ve heard of survivors forming groups. Hell, you were part of one. But this… this sounds different. Darker.

You press yourself closer to the shelf, your gip on the screwdriver so tight your fingers cramp. Seven men, at least—that’s how many voices you can count. Could you take them? Absolutely not.

For now, the only option is to stay hidden. You force yourself to breathe slowly, silently, and focus on their words, desperate for answers. Whatever these men are running from, you need to know if it’s worse than what’s already out there—or if it’s heading straight for you.

Just then, a faint groan slices through the oppressive silence, this one agonisingly close. Your head snaps around, heart thundering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

Right there, not more than a foot away and obscured beneath a grimy sheet of cardboard, something stirs. The groan rises in pitch, raw and guttural, as the cardboard shifts, revealing a face ravaged by decay. Skin, or what’s left of it, clings to its skull in uneven patches, and its milky, dead eyes lock onto yours with an almost sentient hunger.

You freeze, the breath hitching in your chest as time seems to slow. The stench of rot floods your senses, almost choking you, and a cold sweat slicks your skin.

Before you can react, the creature lurches, its skeletal hand shooting out with horrifying speed. Filthy, jagged nails scrape against your leg, finding purchase in the fabric of your jeans and digging into the flesh beneath.

A piercing shriek tears from your throat—raw, primal, and louder than you intend. The sound ricochets off the walls, each echo feeding the panic clawing at your mind.

Desperation surges like a tidal wave, drowning out coherent thought. You kick wildly, your boot connecting with the thing’s chest, but its grip is unyielding. The screwdriver slips in your sweat-slicked palm as you fumble to raise it, your muscles trembling with adrenaline-fuelled terror. Its grip tightens, nails biting deeper, and for a moment, the sickening thought flashes through your mind: You’re not getting out of this.

But then instinct takes over. With a desperate cry, you swing the screwdriver down, the metal driving into its skull in a sickening crunch. the sound reverberating through the stillness like a death knell.

The zombie spasms, its hand loosening slightly, but not enough.

Your vision narrows, fury and survival instinct blending into a single, overpowering force. You strike again, and again, each impact a visceral symphony of shattering bone and yielding flesh. The stench grows worse, cloying and metallic, as blood splatters your hands and face.

Finally, the creature goes still, collapsing into a lifeless heap at your feet. Your chest heaves as you stagger back, the screwdriver slipping from your trembling fingers to clatter against the floor. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the rasp of your own ragged breaths.

"Fuck," you whisper, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your gaze drifts down to the bloodied mess staining the floor, bile rising in your throat. You swallow hard, forcing it down. There’s no time for weakness—not now, not ever.

When you finally look up, your stomach twists into knots. Seven figures stand over you, their faces obscured by shadow but their postures unmistakably tense.

One of them steps closer, the metallic glint of a pistol catching the dim light. Your breath hitches as the cold barrel presses against your temple, its unforgiving weight a reminder of how precarious your situation has just become.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them growls, his voice low and dangerous. The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken threats, as you stare back at him, your mind scrambling for a response that might just keep you alive.

You swallow hard, your mouth dry as sandpaper. “Just… just a survivor,” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. The cold barrel against your temple makes your skin crawl, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. Your heart pounds so loudly, you’re sure they can all hear it. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll leave. Please.”

"Drop the act," another voice cuts in, this one sharp and impatient. "The speaker steps closer, his silhouette lean and wiry, eyes narrowed. “You think we’re stupid? You’ve been listening in.”

“What should we do with her?” someone else pipes up from the shadows. His tone is casual, but the words make your stomach drop. “She could be one of them.”

“I’m not!” you blurt, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I swear, I don’t even know who you’re talking about! I just ran in here to hide!”

The gunman doesn’t lower his weapon, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. The air is thick, suffocating, as he scans your face, searching for any hint of deceit. The silence stretches unbearably until someone else breaks it.

“There’s seven of us, and she’s a girl.” one points out, this one almost amused. His tone is light, but his eyes glint with curiosity. “Not exactly the kind The Future kept around. Didn’t they kill most of their women? Called them weak or some shit.”

"Doesn’t mean she’s not a threat," the gunman mutters, but the tension in his stance eases slightly. The barrel wavers, though it remains trained on you. "Start talking. What are you doing here?"

You take a shuddering breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I was running from a horde," you say, jerking your head vaguely toward the door. Your voice is steadier now, but your trembling hands betray your fear.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” he asks, his tone laced with suspicion. “How many of you are there?”

“There’s no group,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just me. I’ve been on my own for months.”

"On your own?" A man near the back crosses his arms, his posture sceptical. "That’s a load of bullshit. Nobody lasts this long alone." His blonde hair gleams faintly in the dim light, a beacon that would make him laughably easy to track in broad daylight. You wonder how someone so conspicuous has managed to survive this long, especially when they’re clearly being hunted.

"I’m telling the truth," you insist, your voice firm despite the quiver in your hands. “I’ve got nothing to hide. My place got overrun. I just needed somewhere to hide.”

“What place?” the blonde man carefully makes his way in front, crouching slightly, levelling his gaze with yours. The question hangs heavy, and you know your answer could mean the difference between life and death.

“A community building,” you answer, your voice quieter now. “It’s just down the street. I can show you if you don’t believe me.”

“Show us?” Another man scoffs. “You said it was overrun? Why the hell would we follow you to a place that’s crawling with them? Are you stupid?”

You bite back a retort, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I’m not lying,” you say, your voice sharper than before. “Look, I didn’t survive this long just to let a bunch of men decide whether to shoot me in my fucking head for being in the wrong place at the wrong bloody time.”

The man with the blonde hair tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he can’t quite solve. Then he speaks again, his tone quiet but firm. “Can we trust you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you hold his gaze, unflinching, and nod once. Slowly, deliberately. For a moment, no one speaks. You can feel the weight of their stares, assessing, calculating.

Finally, a simple, subtle raise of the blonde’s hand is all it takes for the gunman to lower his pistol. The others, though still wary, seem to follow his lead. Relief washes over you, but you keep your face neutral, refusing to show weakness.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Jungwon.”

His name is Jungwon. It strikes you as a strangely gentle name—garden—yet nothing about him feels soft.

"If you’re lying," Jungwon warns, his tone like steel, "you won’t get a second chance." It doesn’t take long for you to realise—he’s the leader.

“I understand,” you reply, your throat tight. The words feel hollow, but they’re all you can offer.

"What’s your name?" one of them asks, his voice brighter but no less wary.

"Y/N," you reply. "And you?"

He hesitates before giving you a small, guarded smile. “Sunoo. And don’t get any funny ideas. We’re a small group, but we bite.”

The faint attempt at levity doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does little to ease the knot in your stomach. You nod again, glancing at the others. Their eyes still linger on you, like predators sizing up prey.

“You said there’s a horde,” Jungwon says, cutting through the moment. His tone is all business now. “Where’s it coming from?”

“South,” you say, your voice steady but curious. “Wait, weren’t you lot running from it too?” Your eyebrow arches as you ask, testing the waters.

“Don’t ask too many questions, or I might just kill you,” the same man who held the pistol to your head snaps, his tone as sharp as the glare he fixes on you. Tough one, you think grimly. Definitely not the friendly type.

“How big is it—the horde?” he demands, his words clipped and impatient. His posture is rigid, his eyes narrowing as though he’s daring you to lie.

“Big enough,” you answer grimly, your voice heavy with the weight of what’s chasing you. The memory of the mass of undead flashes in your mind—their grotesque forms, the relentless moans. You push it aside, forcing yourself to focus. “They’re close. If we stay here much longer, they’ll find us.”

Jungwon doesn’t hesitate. “Then we move,” he declares, his voice calm but firm, leaving no room for debate. It’s a tone you’ve heard before in those who’ve seen too much, those who lead because no one else will. “Grab your things. We leave in five.”

You swallow hard, scanning their faces. They’re already moving, collecting bags and makeshift weapons, their movements practised and efficient. You take a breath, forcing your hands to stop shaking.

“There’s a motel north-east from here, just off the horde’s course.” you say, stepping forward slightly, trying to sound confident. “I cleared it out once when I couldn’t get back to the community building. I can take you there, wait for the horde to pass, and then I’ll be on my way.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you feel the tension in the room shift. The air grows heavier, colder.

Jungwon’s sharp gaze locks onto yours, his expression unreadable, but it’s not him who speaks. The man with the sharp tongue—the one who held a pistol to your head earlier—lets out a humourless laugh. “Who said anything about letting you go?” he says, his voice dripping with malice, as though your suggestion was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

The silence that follows his words feels suffocating, heavier than the looming threat of the undead outside. You try to keep your expression neutral, but the knot in your stomach tightens with each passing second. Your eyes flick to Jungwon, hoping for some sort of reprieve, but his face remains impassive, impossible to read.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” you say carefully, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want to be in your way.”

The gunman scoffs, the corner of his mouth curling in disdain. “Bold words for someone who had a gun to their head five minutes ago.”

“Enough,” Jungwon cuts in, his voice slicing through the tension like a knife. The others fall silent, though their postures remain taut, their eyes still fixed on you. He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as if gauging your reaction with every step.

“We don’t know you,” he says, his voice measured but carrying an edge of steel. “You could be useful, or you could be a liability. Either way, we’re not taking risks.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to stand your ground. “I’ve already told you—I’m not with anyone. No group, no weapons, no agenda. Just me. If you think I’m lying, you’re wasting your time.”

He watches you for a moment longer, his dark eyes scanning your face for cracks in your resolve. Finally, he speaks. “You’ll come with us,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll see what you’re worth.”

Your stomach twists, the flicker of hope you’d allowed yourself extinguished in an instant. Your jaw clenches, but you nod. There’s no point in arguing—not when they hold all the cards.

“What if she’s dead weight?” the pistol-wielding man mutters, his arms crossed as he glares at you.

“Then she’ll stay behind,” Jungwon replies coldly, his eyes still locked on yours. The words send a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to flinch.

The group moves quickly, their actions smooth and practised as they gather their supplies. You take a moment to glance at their makeshift arsenal—rusted blades, a machete, a pistol with a half-empty box of ammo. It’s not much, but it’s enough to survive. Barely.

Jungwon’s voice cuts through the room again. “Time’s up. Let’s go.”

The group falls into formation, their movements synchronised, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. You find yourself in the middle, flanked on all sides, nothing to defend yourself with. Even the mere rusty screwdriver taken away from you.

Their message is clear: you’re not one of them. They don’t trust you.

As you step out into the night, the cool air hits your face, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat of the room. The streets are eerily quiet, the faint groans of the undead carried on the wind. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scan the shadows, every instinct screaming at you to run. But there’s nowhere to go—not empty-handed, and certainly not without them gunning you down before you even make five feet.

Jungwon takes the lead, his blonde hair catching the faint glow of the moon as he moves with purpose. You follow closely, your senses on high alert. Every shuffle of movement, every distant sound sets your nerves on edge.

Sunoo sidles up next to you, his steps light and almost casual, though the wariness in his eyes lingers. “Don’t let Jay get to you,” he says in a low voice, his lips curving into a faint smile. “That grump always tries to come off scarier than he is. He’s actually a bit of a softie.”

Jay. The name sticks in your mind, sharp and blunt at the same time, just like the man it belongs to. You glance over at him—his posture rigid, eyes scanning the shadows like a hawk. There’s nothing soft about him now, not the way he grips the pistol or the sharp edge to his jaw as he walks a few paces ahead.

“A softie?” you murmur back, your voice sceptical. “He doesn’t look the type.”

Sunoo chuckles quietly, his expression lightening. “Oh, he’s a pain in the ass, no doubt about that. But trust me, when it comes down to it, Jay always looks after the group. Even if he’s a bit dramatic about it.”

You don’t know whether to take that as reassurance or a warning.

“Does he look after the strays too?” you ask, your tone laced with cautious humour.

Sunoo raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “That depends,” he says, his tone light yet probing. “Are you planning to stay a stray?”

You don’t reply, and the silence stretches just long enough for it to become uncomfortable. Sunoo seems to take the hint, letting the question hang unanswered. His smile fades slightly, but he doesn’t press further.

Instead, he shifts gears, his voice dropping low enough to avoid drawing the attention of the others. “So, this motel of yours,” he begins, tilting his head. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, though the scepticism in his tone pricks at you. “It’s just a place I found. Empty, at least the last time I checked.”

“And if it’s not?” he presses, his brow furrowing as his sharp eyes flick to your face. There’s no malice there, just careful calculation, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re bluffing.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” you say firmly. “Like I’ve dealt with everything else.”

He studies you for a moment longer before nodding, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “Fair enough.”

You nod back, though your attention is already shifting, your gaze flicking from Sunoo to Jungwon, before landing on Jay. He hasn’t so much as glanced in your direction since leaving the shop, but you can feel the weight of his presence, like a storm cloud hanging overhead. Softie or not, there’s no denying he’s dangerous.

This whole group is dangerous. Not just in the way they pointed a gun at your head. You’d have done the same if the roles were reversed.

No, it’s something deeper than that. It’s in the way they move together, a silent understanding passing between them. It’s in the way they trust each other without needing to speak. That trust feels foreign to you.

Distrust is second nature now, woven into every fibre of your being. It has kept you alive, but here, it feels like a barrier, separating you from the unspoken bond that holds them together. They don’t trust you, and you can’t blame them. You’re the outsider, the unknown element, and trust is a commodity none of you can afford to give freely—not for you, and certainly not for them.

The group moves swiftly through the shadowed streets, their footsteps light but purposeful. You walk in the middle of their formation, acutely aware of how exposed you all are. Every darkened alley, every overturned car feels like a trap waiting to spring.

Suddenly, Jungwon raises a hand, his entire body going still. The shift is immediate—the group halts in unison, their movements instinctive, like a well-oiled machine. Your breath catches, your heart pounding like a drum as you strain your ears. At first, there’s nothing but the faint rustling of the wind. Then you hear it—shuffling, faint but unmistakable, just ahead.

“Eyes up,” Jay mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as he tightens his grip on the pistol.

The group edges closer to the corner of a crumbling building, each step measured and deliberate. Jungwon moves first, peering around the edge with slow precision. His posture stiffens, and when he pulls back, his expression is grim.

“A group of them, about thirty, maybe more.” You feel a chill run down your spine.

“South?” Jay hisses, his sharp glare cutting through the dim light as he looks over his shoulder at you. “You said they were coming from the south.”

“They are,” you snap back defensively, lowering your voice but unable to hide the edge in your tone. “How was I supposed to know they’re crawling here too?”

Jay lets out a low, humourless laugh, his head shaking lightly. “This is exactly why we didn’t believe you when you said you survived the city all alone.”

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the rising tension. “Now’s not the time for this,” someone says—the voice calm but clipped, firm enough to settle the brewing argument. You glance towards the speaker, realising you still haven’t put a name to his face. “Why are there so many of them tonight?”

You shake your head, the unease in your chest growing heavier. “Tonight is… different,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “There seem to be more of them roaming the streets. It’s like something’s drawn them here.”

“Yeah, like a scream of some sort.” The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Slowly, one by one, the group turns their heads toward you.

Your stomach drops, and you open your mouth to protest, but the conversation is cut short by a sudden, guttural growl. One of the zombies has noticed you. Its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto the group as it lets out a low, haunting moan.

“Shit,” Jungwon mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

The moan spreads like a signal, the rest of the horde turning their decayed heads in unison. Their shuffling quickens, their jerky movements laced with unnatural determination.

“Here they come,” Jay snaps, his voice sharp as he raises his pistol.

“Sunghoon, they’re coming from the back too!” Sunoo’s voice rises in alarm, his gaze darting to the rear of the group. You whip your head around, your blood running cold as more figures stumble into view behind you.

“We can’t fight them all,” Sunghoon says, panic bleeding into his usually calm tone.

For a moment, everything feels suspended—the groans of the undead growing louder, the sharp intakes of breath from the group, the suffocating realisation that escape is narrowing with every passing second. Then, with a voice like tempered steel, Jungwon breaks the paralysis.

“Move!” he commands, his voice slicing through the chaos.

The group breaks into a run, weaving through the narrow streets and abandoned cars. The sound of shuffling feet and guttural growls follows close behind, a relentless reminder of what’s chasing you.

Your lungs burn, and your legs ache, but you keep moving, driven by pure adrenaline. As you round a corner, the motel comes into view—a squat, two-storey building with boarded-up windows. Relief surges through you, but it’s fleeting. The dead are still on your heels.

“There!” you shout, pointing toward the motel. “We can barricade ourselves inside!”

Jungwon nods, taking the lead as the group sprints toward the building. Jay fires a few shots over his shoulder, each one finding its mark, but it only slows the horde momentarily.

“Go, go, go!” Sunoo yells, holding the door open as the group piles inside.

The moment you’re inside, you move instinctively, grabbing a nearby desk and shoving it against the door with Sunghoon’s help. The others pile on whatever they can find—chairs, shelves, anything to hold the door shut. The pounding starts almost immediately, a grim reminder of how little time you have.

“We can’t stay here,” says someone whose name you haven’t learned, his voice trembling as he steps back, his wide eyes darting between the barricade and the rest of the group. “They’ll break through eventually.”

Jungwon turns to you, his dark, calculating eyes pinning you in place. “You said you cleared this place before,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Is there another way out?”

“There’s a back exit,” you say, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “But it’s narrow. If they cut us off—”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon interrupts. “We’ll make it work.”

The pounding intensifies, the barricade creaking under the strain. The group exchanges tense glances, their exhaustion mirrored in each other’s faces. Your palms are slick with sweat as you clench your fists, the urge to act warring with the mounting dread in your gut.

“Let’s go,” Jungwon says sharply, gesturing for the group to fall into formation. He starts toward the back, his movements quick and precise, but you grab the edge of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

“Give me a weapon to defend myself with,” you say, your voice low but firm.

“No,” he replies instantly, not even breaking his stride.

Your grip tightens, forcing him to pause. “Jungwon,” you say, your tone urgent but measured, “I can see you care a lot about your group. I also know that when push comes to shove, I won’t be your priority. If you can’t guarantee my safety, then I need something to defend myself with.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing deeply. The pounding against the barricade grows louder, each crash like a warning bell, and you can feel the impatience bubbling beneath your skin.

“Please,” you press, your voice softening but losing none of its intensity.

For a moment, he stares at you, the tension in his jaw betraying his internal debate. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he reaches into his belt and pulls out a small, serrated knife. “Fine,” he says, his tone clipped, handing it to you. “But you stay close to me. No exceptions.”

Relief floods through you as you take the weapon, the cool metal solid and reassuring in your hand. “Understood,” you say, nodding quickly.

“Move!” Jungwon orders, his voice cutting through the noise. The group springs into action, heading toward the narrow corridor that leads to the back exit. Your heart pounds as you grip the knife tightly, your eyes darting to the barricade one last time.

The group moves quickly, the narrow corridor pressing in on all sides. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet feels deafening, every shadow a potential ambush. Jungwon leads the way, his blade gleaming faintly in the dim light as he keeps his focus locked on the path ahead.

“Stay close,” he mutters, glancing back at you for a fraction of a second before returning his attention forward.

The pounding on the barricade grows faint behind you, but a new sound takes its place—the unmistakable shuffle and groans of the undead echoing off the walls. The noise comes from ahead and behind, a cruel symphony that makes your stomach churn.

You’re surrounded.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you don’t even know who is speaking, all you can tell is—he’s panicking.

The group halts, frozen as the reality of your situation sinks in. Jay takes a sharp breath, glancing over his shoulder. “They’ve cut us off,” he says grimly. “We’re trapped.”

“Keep moving,” Jungwon orders, though his voice is taut with tension. “We fight through. There’s no other choice.”

As if on cue, a wave of zombies emerges from the shadows ahead. Their decayed faces twist into grotesque mockeries of hunger, their milky eyes locking onto the group. The moans grow louder, their jerky movements speeding up as they close the distance.

Raising his pistol, Jay fires a clean shot, dropping the lead zombie, but the rest surge forward undeterred.

You tighten your grip on the knife Jungwon gave you, your palms sweaty. The first zombie lunges, and Jungwon meets it head-on, his blade diving into its skull with practiced precision. Another takes its place immediately, forcing him back.

“Behind you!” you yell, spotting movement in the shadows. A zombie stumbles toward Jungwon, its bony hands reaching for him.

Without thinking, you surge forward, driving your knife into its temple before it can lay a hand on him. The impact sends a jolt through your arm, but the creature collapses instantly, its lifeless body hitting the ground at Jungwon’s feet.

He spins around, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing in acknowledgment. “Thanks,” he mutters, before plunging his blade into another.

You barely have time to catch your breath before you spot it—a narrow opening in the wall ahead, barely visible in the chaos. It’s just large enough to squeeze through, and beyond it, you can see an open street.

Your heart pounds as the thought crystallises in your mind: freedom. You could run. You could escape. You could leave all of this behind and save yourself.

The idea is tempting. The promise of survival so close you can almost taste it. But as quickly as it takes root, something stronger rises to smother it. Something within you that won’t allow you to abandon them. These people—dangerous and distrustful as they are—are fighting to survive, just like you.

Your gaze flickers back to the group. Jungwon, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision, glances back to check on Jay before taking on another zombie. Jay’s pistol rings out, his shots deliberate and controlled, his sharp eyes scanning for threats to the others. Sunghoon swings a crowbar with brute force, stepping in to shield Sunoo when he falters.

They’re… looking out for each other…?

You hesitate, the knife in your hand growing heavier with every passing second. It’s not just survival fueling them—it’s something more. Something you haven’t seen in a long time.

After everything—the chaos, the selfishness, the betrayal—you didn’t think there was any humanity left in people. Not after what went down at the community building.

You’ve seen what desperation does to people, how it strips them bare, leaving nothing but fear and greed in its wake. You can still see the faces of the ones who abandoned their own blood. The ones who took more than their share, who fought over scraps while others starved, who left others behind to die just to save themselves.

And yet, here you are, watching this ragtag group fight not just for themselves, but for each other.

There’s something different about the way they move. It’s primal, yes, but not animalistic. They swing their weapons with purpose, shouting warnings to each other, putting themselves in danger to keep one another alive—not because they have to, but because they choose to.

They’re holding on to something—civility, camaraderie, maybe hope. Or maybe it’s the uncanny refusal to let go of what makes them human, even when the world around them is anything but. It makes your chest ache, this flicker of humanity you thought was long dead.

You aren’t sure why—not entirely. Maybe it’s the look of determination on their faces. Maybe it’s that fleeting look of surprise in Jungwon’s eyes when you saved him that stays with you. The unspoken gratitude, the trust he gave you in return. Maybe it’s the fire in your chest that refuses to let you be like the others, the ones who ran when things got hard. To hold on to what little humanity you have left. Or maybe it’s something simpler: you just don’t want to survive alone anymore.

Your gaze shifts back to the horde. More are flooding into the corridor from both sides, their moans growing louder. The group is outnumbered, overwhelmed. If you leave now, they won’t make it.

Your grip on the knife tightens as the choice solidifies in your mind. The opening in the wall calls to you, but you can’t move toward it. Not when they’re still fighting. Not when leaving would mean becoming one of them.

You take a step forward instead, slashing at the nearest zombie before it can reach Jay. The creature collapses, and Jay’s head snaps toward you, confusion flickering across his face. He doesn’t say anything, just nods once, almost imperceptibly, before firing at the next target.

The path forward is a blur of movement and noise. You don’t think, don’t question. You just fight.

“Over there!” you shout, pointing to the opening. “There’s a way out!”

Jungwon’s head snaps up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable, a mix of surprise and something else you can’t quite place. He nods sharply, his voice steady even as chaos erupts around him. “Stay with me,” he orders. “We’ll make it out together.”

The group presses forward, fighting with renewed determination. You stand your ground, slashing at anything that comes too close, your heart pounding as adrenaline fuels every movement. The horde presses in, relentless, but inch by inch, you force your way toward the opening. For reasons you can’t fully explain, you stay close to them.

Jungwon moves ahead, his blade a blur as he carves through the oncoming zombies. You’re at the rear now, turning back occasionally to strike at anything that gets too close.

A zombie lunges from the side, its grotesque face inches from you before you drive your knife into its eye socket. The creature crumples, but the force of it pulls you off balance, and you stumble, landing hard on one knee.

“Get up!” Jay barks, his voice sharp but charged with urgency. He fires a shot over your shoulder, the bullet whizzing past to take down another zombie that had been closing in on you.

You scramble to your feet, gripping your knife with renewed determination. The narrow opening is only a few feet away now, and the others are already pushing through. Sunoo slips through first, then Sunghoon, the two of them pulling at debris on the other side to clear the way for the rest of you.

“Move, move!” Jungwon shouts, his voice cutting through the cacophony. He’s still holding the line, his blade flashing in the dim light as he keeps the horde at bay.

You shove Jay forward toward the opening, your pulse racing. “Go!”

With a grim nod, Jay ducks through the opening, leaving you and Jungwon alone with the horde. The zombies are almost upon you now, their grotesque moans filling the narrow space. Jungwon glances at you, his face slick with sweat and streaked with blood.

“You first,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.

“Not a chance,” you shoot back, slashing at a zombie that gets too close. The blade slices through its rotted neck, sending its head lolling to the side as its body collapses. “They need you. I’ll be right behind.”

For a moment, he stares at you, something flickering in his dark eyes—frustration, maybe, or something closer to understanding. Then he nods once, a sharp, decisive motion, and the two of you fall into a rhythm. His blade swings high while your knife strikes low, each movement synchronised as if you’ve been fighting together for years.

The opening is right there, but the horde is closing in fast. A zombie lunges at Jungwon from his blind spot, and before you can think, you shove him aside, your knife plunging into the creature’s chest. The impact sends both you and the zombie crashing to the ground, the stench of rot filling your nose as you wrestle against its weight.

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding. He pulls the zombie off you in one fluid motion, driving his blade into its skull. “Get up, now!”

He hauls you to your feet, his grip firm but not unkind, and together you bolt for the opening. The others are waiting on the other side, their faces pale and drawn but alive. Sunghoon reaches out, grabbing your arm to pull you through just as the horde slams into the debris you’d hastily piled to block the passage.

The group collapses onto the open street, panting and bloodied but alive. The sound of the horde pounding against the barricade is deafening, but it holds—at least for now.

“Everyone okay?” Jungwon asks, his voice steadier than it has any right to be. His eyes scan the group, lingering on you for a fraction of a second longer than the others.

“Barely,” Sunoo mutters, leaning heavily on Sunghoon. “That was too close.”

Jay stands a few feet away, reloading his pistol with practised efficiency. He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “You could’ve run,” he says flatly, though there’s something in his tone that isn’t quite accusatory.

You meet his gaze, your grip tightening on the bloodied knife in your hand. “So could you.”

Jay snorts, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough.”

Jungwon steps forward, his blade still clutched tightly in his hand. “We need to keep moving,” he says, his tone brisk but quieter now. “The noise will draw more of them.”

You nod, your heart still racing as you fall into step with the group. The streets ahead stretch out in shadowed uncertainty, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of something you haven’t felt in a long time. In the presence of people—people who aren’t trying to eat or kill you.

When the group reaches the edge of Seoul, where cracked asphalt gives way to gravel and the looming forest stretches into the horizon, everyone stops. The air is thick with tension, the only sounds the distant rustle of leaves and the crunch of boots on dirt. The group exchanges wary glances, but it’s Jay who breaks the silence.

“Surely she’s not coming with us back to camp,” he says bluntly, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife. His pistol hangs loose in his hand, though his sharp gaze flicks to you with suspicion. Then, he turns to Jungwon. “We still don’t know anything about her.”

“She helped us escape,” one of them counters, his voice steady but calm. He’s tall, with an easy confidence, though his tone carries just enough weight to make Jay glance at him. “That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Jay doesn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t mean she’s not a liability, Heeseung.” he counters, his voice clipped. “We’ve all seen how that ends.”

“I’m standing right here, you know,” you say, your tone flat but laced with frustration. You’re too tired to hide the edge in your voice. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have stuck around to help.”

“Helping doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy,” Jay shoots back, narrowing his eyes. “Plenty of people are helpful—until they aren’t. Jake, why don’t you remind Jungwon what happened the last time we trusted someone?”

Jake—leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed—glances at Jay before speaking. His voice is lighter, more measured, but no less pointed. “She was armed,” he says, nodding toward the knife still clutched in your hand. “If she wanted to hurt us, she’d have done it by now.”

“She practically did,” Jay fires back, his glare intensifying. “With the way she brought that horde down on us.”

You stiffen, your exhaustion bubbling over into anger. “If you think my pathetic little scream brought in a horde that big, then you must be denser than I thought." you bite out, your tone dripping with incredulity,

Jay takes a step closer, his expression darkening. “Then why don’t you care to explain why there were so many of them tonight? You said so yourself—it’s different. Something’s drawn them here.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, each word sharp and biting. Your chest tightens, frustration mingling with the lingering fear from earlier. “How the hell would I know?” you snap, your voice rising slightly before you force it down. “You think I have all the answers? I’ve been on my own for months. I don’t know what’s out there any more than you do.”

“Exactly,” Jay counters, his voice cold. “You’ve been on your own. No one to vouch for you. No one to trust you. Why should we be the ones to take that risk?”

You open your mouth to argue, but Jungwon raises a hand, silencing the brewing argument. “Enough,” he says, his voice calm but commanding.

“You said you’ve been on your own." Jungwon turns to you, his dark eyes meeting yours, unblinking.

You nod slowly, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you can muster. “That’s right.”

“Then why didn’t you run?” Jungwon asks, his voice softer now, though no less searching. “You could’ve left when you saw that opening.”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and weighted with meaning. For a moment, you hesitate, your chest tightening. The truth feels raw, vulnerable, but you know it’s the only chance you have. “Because I’ve seen what happens when people leave others behind,” you say quietly, your voice steady but laced with emotion. “I… was left behind. It’s not who I want to be.”

The group falls into an uneasy silence. Even Jay says nothing, though his expression remains guarded. Sunoo glances between you and Jungwon, his face unreadable. Heeseung exhales slowly, lowering his machete just slightly, his knuckles no longer white from gripping the handle.

“She doesn’t seem like a threat to me,” Sunoo finally says, his tone softer now. “Besides, what’s one more person? It’s not like we’re overflowing with allies.”

“She could slow us down,” Jay argues, though his earlier venom seems to have dulled. “What if she can’t keep up?”

“I kept up with you just fine back there,” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop.

“And she saved Jungwon. Knife to the skull. Pretty impressive, actually.” says the cheeky one you remember from the auto shop. His tone is casual, but it carries just enough humour to make Jungwon roll his eyes.

“Very funny, Ni-ki,” Jungwon says, exhaling through his nose. His expression remains unreadable as his gaze sweeps over the group.

He’s quiet for a moment, clearly weighing the risks, before finally speaking. “She comes with us, we'll figure the rest out at camp." he states firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jay mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t protest further. Sunoo gives you a quick smile, while Heeseung offers a small nod. Ni-ki shrugs, already turning back toward the forest path.

The journey to the camp is long and fraught with silence. The group moves with practised precision, their formation tight as they navigate the dark, twisting paths that grow denser with every step. You trail close behind, clutching your knife tightly. The blood and sweat drying on your skin makes you feel grimy, but the real discomfort comes from the sharp looks Jay still throws your way whenever he glances back.

Eventually, the dense trees give way to a clearing, revealing the camp nestled among towering pines. A cluster of tents, a single battered van, and a manmade lean-to are scattered around the space, surrounded by a crude barricade of fallen logs and scavenged metal.

“Home sweet home,” Sunoo mutters, his voice tinged with fatigue as he pulls the barricade open just wide enough for the group to slip through. The camp is eerily quiet, save for the distant rustling of the forest.

You glance around, scanning the area for signs of other people, but it becomes clear that the group before you is all there is.

Weird. They don’t have much, but leaving an entire camp unattended like that is reckless, bordering on suicidal. It’s the kind of decision that makes you question their judgment.

Now you’re even more confused about your perception of these people. Are they confident? Brave? Or are they simply stupid?

It’s hard to tell.

But whatever the reason, it leaves you uneasy. Because in a world like this, confidence and bravery can look an awful lot like arrogance—and arrogance gets people killed.

“Who’s on first watch tonight?” Jungwon asks, his tone brisk and businesslike as his eyes sweep the camp.

“Jake and Ni-ki,” Heeseung replies, dropping his machete with a heavy sigh.

“Erm... both of them are already passed out over there.” Sunghoon’s voice is dry, almost amused, as he points toward the lean-to.

Your gaze follows his finger, and sure enough, you spot two figures sprawled out on the uneven ground, tangled in what looks like a half-hearted attempt at bedding. One of them is snoring softly, an arm flung carelessly over his face, while the other lies curled into himself, his back rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. They’ve managed to find the least uncomfortable positions possible in a place like this, but it’s clear they’re out cold.

Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture that speaks to his weariness more than any words could. “Brilliant,” he mutters under his breath, the exasperation in his tone cutting through the quiet. He looks like a man who carries the weight of everyone around him, even when he doesn’t want to.

The group shifts awkwardly, the tension thick enough to press against your chest. Your fingers twitch around the handle of your knife, an unconscious reflex as you weigh your options. You don’t owe these people anything. And yet, when the words leave your mouth, they surprise even you.

“I can take first watch, and one of you can cover me after.” Your voice is steady, but the exhaustion leaks through at the edges. You don’t offer because you feel like you owe them. No, the truth is simpler: you know you won’t sleep. Even with your body screaming for rest, every muscle and bone aching from the day’s events, your mind is wide awake. Very, very awake.

Jay scoffs immediately, the sound sharp and derisive. “Like hell we would leave you on watch alone, what if you run?”

The comment makes your blood simmer, but you clamp down on the flare of frustration. Instead, you meet his glare with a level stare. “Jay, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you,” you say, your tone firm but not aggressive. “If you don’t trust me, then you can take first watch with me.”

The challenge in your voice is unmistakable, and it hangs in the air between you like a taut string. Jay’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening as though he’s deciding whether to call your bluff. You hold his stare, refusing to back down, even as the silence stretches.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears, but you keep your expression steady, determined not to show weakness. You don’t know if they’ll ever trust you, but you’ve survived too long to let someone like Jay intimidate you now.

Jungwon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose again, as though trying to contain the growing tension in the camp. Finally, he lowers his hand and looks at Jay, his expression firm but calm. “I’ll take the first watch with her,” he says, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Jay’s mouth opens, likely to argue, but Jungwon cuts him off with a sharp look. “Get some rest. We’ll need everyone at least awake tomorrow.”

Jay clicks his tongue but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and stalks off toward the fire, dropping onto a log with a pointed lack of grace. The others disperse as well, settling into their makeshift bedding or sitting quietly by the fire. Jungwon turns to you.

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward a ladder tied to the side of what looks like a precariously constructed watchtower. “The view’s better up there.”

You follow him, gripping the ladder tightly as you climb. The watchtower, built from scavenged wood and tied together with ropes and wire, creaks slightly under your combined weight but holds firm. When you reach the top, you find a narrow platform with a rough wooden railing. From this vantage point, the camp feels small, a fragile sanctuary surrounded by endless darkness.

Jungwon settles near the edge, resting his blade across his lap as he scans the treeline. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, constantly moving as though anticipating the worst.

You sit a few feet away, your knife still in hand, though you’re not entirely sure what good it will do against the night. For a while, neither of you speaks, the silence broken only by the distant rustling of leaves and the faint crackle of the fire below.

“Do you always volunteer for shit the rest doesn’t want to do?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

Jungwon glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not always. But someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the dark forest beyond the barricade. “You don’t trust me either,” you say, your voice quiet but not accusatory. It’s a statement, not a question.

He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When he does speak, his tone is measured. “It’s not about trust. Not entirely. It’s about knowing what people are capable of when things go bad.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Yeah. I’ve seen what people are capable of.”

Jungwon glances at you again, his expression softening just slightly. “What… happened?” he asks, his voice low, as though he knows it’s a loaded question but is willing to bear the weight of it.

You hesitate, the memories clawing at the edges of your mind, threatening to drag you back into a place you’d give anything to forget. Frankly, you don’t want to answer. You don’t even want to think about it. But the past has a cruel way of lingering, forcing you to confront it over and over again, like an open wound that refuses to heal.

“The community building,” you begin slowly, the words bitter on your tongue. “It was supposed to be safe. A place where people worked together. Where we helped each other survive.”

“At least, that’s what we told ourselves. But things changed when the supplies started running low. Suddenly, it wasn’t about helping each other anymore. It was about who could take the most, who could get out alive.” You pause, your fingers tightening around the knife in your hand as the images flood your mind. The arguments over food, the mistrust that spread like rot, the way desperation revealed the ugliest parts of human nature.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words spill out, raw and jagged. “I watched people turn on each other. Families. Friends. People who’d shared meals, shared stories, who’d promised to have each other’s backs. They fought over scraps. They left others behind without a second thought. And when the barricade fell… when the dead came through…” Your voice wavers, and you clench your jaw to steady it. “They didn’t just leave the weak behind. They trampled them. Used them as bait. Anything to save themselves.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but his gaze remains fixed on you, his expression unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s judging you, pitying you, or just listening. Maybe it’s all three.

“I’d like to think the ones who made it out remember that place the way I do,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “But I don’t think they do. I think they tell themselves it wasn’t their fault. That they had no choice. Maybe they’re right. But I had to see it, and I have to live with it.”

Jungwon watches you carefully, his expression unreadable but not unkind. After a moment, he asks, his voice low and steady, “Is that why you choose to survive alone?”

The question cuts through the quiet night, striking a nerve you hadn’t realised was exposed. You hesitate, your gaze falling to the dark ground below. “Maybe,” you admit softly. “It’s easier, I guess. No one to rely on. No one to disappoint you. No one to leave you behind.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything immediately, but his silence feels deliberate, as though he’s giving you space to continue. You exhale slowly, the memories pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shrug off.

“When you’re on your own, the only person you have to worry about is yourself,” you say, your voice hardening slightly. “If you make a mistake, you pay for it. If you survive, it’s because you earned it. There’s no one else to blame, and no one else to lose.”

Jungwon’s gaze doesn’t waver, and there’s a gravity in his eyes that makes you feel exposed. “But it’s also lonely,” he says quietly, as though he’s not asking but stating a fact.

You swallow hard, the truth of his words settling uncomfortably in your chest. You don’t answer, but the silence between you speaks volumes. Jungwon shifts slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he speaks. “Not everyone would’ve made it out of that and kept going,” he says quietly. “Most people would’ve given up. You didn’t.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. They’re not exactly comforting, but there’s a sincerity in them that makes your chest tighten, like a wound you’d forgotten you were nursing.

“I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of,” you admit, your gaze fixed on the dark forest beyond the camp.

“It is,” Jungwon says firmly, and there’s an edge of conviction in his tone that makes you glance at him. “It means you didn’t let it break you. And that’s harder than most people realise—keeping yourself from going insane. Stopping yourself from letting this fucked-up excuse of a world swallow you whole. You didn’t give in, and that counts for something.”

You study him for a moment, his face lit faintly by the moonlight, his blonde hair swaying lightly in the night breeze. His expression is calm but resolute, as though he’s been through his own version of hell and come out with his soul intact.

You’re not sure how to respond, so you don’t. Instead, you let his words sit with you, their weight lighter than the memories they’ve momentarily displaced.

“You’re not as rough around the edges as Jay seems to think,” he says after a while, his tone lighter now. “But you’re not like the others either. You’ve got... fight in you.”

You glance at him, arching an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Take it however you want.”

“But that’s not what we do here,” he continues. “If someone falls behind, we don’t leave them.”

You turn to him, searching his face for any hint of deception, any sign that this is just a comforting lie. But his expression is earnest, his eyes unwavering.

You’ve been on your own for almost six months. You don’t even remember the last time you had a conversation this long with anyone. Words, when they did come, were usually short, functional—commands barked at yourself to keep moving, or fleeting exchanges shouted during desperate encounters.

This, sitting and talking, feels foreign. Unnatural.

It’s not that you haven’t come across other survivors. You’ve met people. Survivors who had extended a hand, offered you a place in their groups. Some seemed kind, others desperate. But you rejected them all. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford, and joining a group means opening yourself to betrayal, to risk. You’ve seen what people are capable of when the stakes are life and death. Better to keep moving on your own than rely on someone who could turn on you at any moment.

Still, sitting here with Jungwon, his calm voice cutting through the quiet night, you find yourself oddly enjoying it.

“Must be exhausting, caring about people.” you say, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

Jungwon chuckles softly, the sound low and almost foreign in the stillness of the night. “It is,” he admits, his gaze flicking briefly to the camp below. The firelight dances across the faces of the others, who are finally beginning to settle down for the night. “But it’s worth it. At least, I like to think it is.”

You watch him for a moment, the corners of your mouth quirking slightly upward. “Did you know each other? Before?”

“Yup,” he says, leaning back against the rough railing of the makeshift watchtower. The faint moonlight softens the hard edges of his face as he speaks, his tone lighter now, touched with nostalgia. “Childhood friends. I’d just started university, and they wanted to come check out the campus. It was supposed to be a quick visit.”

He pauses, his gaze drifting toward the dark expanse of trees surrounding the camp. “We just so happened to be together when everything went to shit.”

The simplicity of his words doesn’t mask the weight they carry. You imagine the scene—an ordinary day, plans for the future barely set in motion, torn apart by chaos. You wonder if he thinks about how different things might’ve been if the timing had been just slightly off. If he’d been alone, or if they hadn’t been there together.

“Lucky, I guess,” you say quietly, though the word feels wrong in your mouth. Luck doesn’t feel like it belongs in this world anymore, not when it comes with such brutal cost.

“Yeah,” Jungwon replies, his voice softer now, almost like he’s agreeing and disagreeing at the same time. “Lucky.”

“What happened?” you ask cautiously, sensing the weight of his memories but curious nonetheless.

He exhales slowly, the breath heavy with remembrance. “We started out as a big group—most of the faculty ended up holed up in the auditorium. We thought we’d escape the initial chaos for the time. But someone got bit early on and hid it from the rest of us. They turned in the middle of the night. It took out half of us before we even knew what was happening.”

You swallow hard, the familiar pang of loss and horror creeping into your chest. “And the rest of you?”

“The seven of us, plus a few others, managed to get out alive,” he says, his voice tinged with a faint bitterness. “We thought our luck had turned when we ran into a group of people in military uniforms. They had tanks, rifles, the works. We thought we were safe.”

“That was The Future, wasn’t it?” you ask, recalling the name you’d overheard the others mention earlier.

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens, his expression darkening. “Do you really not know anything about The Future?”

You shake your head slowly, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. “No. I’ve been on my own for months. I’ve seen groups, but nothing that sounds like what you’re describing.”

Jungwon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice lowers, taking on a colder edge. “They’re not a group. They’re an organisation. Big. Made up of military personnels who went rogue when they realised the government couldn’t control the outbreak, and high profile politicians started to abandon the people to save themselves.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, the weight of his words sinking in. The idea of a well-organised, militarised group with no one to answer to makes your skin crawl. “And you escaped from them?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “Barely.”

“If they’re so strong,” you press cautiously, “why did you leave?”

Jungwon’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze dropping briefly to the dark ground below before lifting to meet yours again. “Their way of surviving… it’s messed up,” he says, his tone grim. “It isn’t about helping anyone—it’s about control. They take what they want. Supplies, people, anything they think they can use. If they decide you’re deadweight, just another mouth to feed, they won’t hesitate to…” He trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavy between you.

Your throat feels tight. “Is that why Jake said they’d gotten rid off all their women?” you ask tentatively, the memory of Jake’s earlier comment sharp in your mind.

Jungwon’s expression darkens further. “Not all,” he corrects, though the words do little to ease the growing unease in your chest. “Just those who, to them, served no purpose. And not just women. Children. The elderly. Anyone with a disability, or even someone who was sick—whether it was visible or not. If you couldn’t pull your weight or be useful to their ‘mission,’ you were as good as dead.”

Your stomach churns, bile rising in your throat. “That’s not survival,” you say quietly, your voice shaking slightly. “That’s—”

“Evil?” Jungwon finishes for you, his tone bitter. “Yeah. It is. They hide it under words like ‘efficiency’ and ‘necessity,’ but it’s just cruelty. That’s why we left.”

You can see the weight of the memories in his eyes, the lingering shadows of everything he’s seen and done to survive. For a moment, the silence between you feels suffocating, the distant rustle of the forest doing little to break the tension.

“How many of you escaped?” you ask, though you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re all that’s left.” he says simply, his voice carrying the weight of names and faces you’ll likely never know.

He leans back against the watchtower railing, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of the past has settled there. “We’ve been running ever since. Trying to stay ahead of them. Trying to survive without becoming like them.”

The knot in your stomach tightens further. The apocalypse had already stripped the world of so much—life, hope, humanity—and now it seemed to have given rise to something even worse.

You glance down at the camp below, at the group who had been wary of you, who still didn’t fully trust you. Yet despite everything, they’d chosen to leave a place like that behind, to hold onto something resembling morality.

“Must’ve taken a lot,” you say quietly. “To leave. To fight back.”

“It did,” Jungwon replies, his voice steady but tired. “But if surviving means losing everything that makes us human, then what’s the point?”

His words linger in the cool night air, settling deep into your bones. For the first time, you realise that you and the group aren’t so different after all. Just ordinary people, barely on the cusp of adulthood, thrust into a world that demands you play the role of protectors. Not because you’re ready, but because the ones who should have been there to protect you failed. Now, all you have is each other, forced to fill the gaps left behind by the people who should have kept you safe.

"But why are they still trying to hunt you down?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can think twice. It lingers in the air between you, heavy with curiosity and unease.

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze shifting to the dark treeline beyond the camp. For a moment, it seems like he might not answer. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Because we didn’t just leave,” he says, his voice low and edged with something darker—regret, perhaps, or anger. “We took supplies. Food, medicine, weapons. Enough to give us a fighting chance out here. To them, that’s unforgivable. They don’t see people. They see assets. Resources they think they own.”

You feel a chill crawl down your spine as you process his words. “You think they’re after the supplies you took?”

“It’s not just about the supplies,” Jungwon replies, his tone grim. “It’s about control. We embarrassed them. Made them look weak. To The Future, that’s worse than losing anything physical. If they let us go, it sets a precedent. It shows people that they’re not invincible, and then what is to stop others from doing the same?”

Your stomach churns. “So they’re chasing you to make an example of you.”

“Exactly,” he says, his voice colder now. “They want everyone to know what happens when you cross them. And they won’t stop until they get what they want.”

The weight of his words settles heavily in your chest, the reality of their situation sinking in. It’s not just survival they’re fighting for—it’s freedom from a force that refuses to let them go. You glance back at Jungwon, his expression calm but laced with something harder, something forged by experience.

“How long have you been running?” you ask softly.

Jungwon exhales, the sound low and tired. “Almost six months,” he admits, his gaze fixed on the treeline.

There’s a pause before he continues, quieter this time, as though saying it aloud makes it more real. “Although… we think we might have lost them. For now. But we’re always ready to keep moving. Always looking over our shoulders.”

“Every time we think we’re safe enough to settle down, they find us,” he murmurs. “Like an obsessive ex-girlfriend, you know?”

The analogy catches you off guard, and you chuckle despite the seriousness of the conversation. It’s a strained laugh, but genuine—a brief flicker of something human in the midst of everything bleak. “The kind that won’t take a hint?”

Jungwon huffs a small laugh of his own, though there’s no real humour behind it. “Exactly.” He glances at you, a shadow of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Except this one’s got a lot more firepower.”

That explains it. Why they were so willing to leave the camp unattended, why they carried more supplies on their backs than they could possibly need. It wasn’t out of carelessness or greed—it was strategy. They packed light enough to keep moving, but just heavy enough to make sure they wouldn’t have to stop.

Everything they did was calculated, preparing for the worst. Ready to run at a moment’s notice if the situation demanded it.

Ready to disappear without a trace.

The fire below flickers, its faint glow casting long shadows across his face. For a moment, you see the weariness behind his sharp exterior, the cracks in the armour he’s built to protect himself and the people he cares about.

“You said tonight was different—you said there were a lot more of them than usual. Why did you think that way?” Jungwon asks, his tone low and measured, though his eyes flicker with unease.

You hesitate, chewing on your thoughts. The question pulls at loose threads in your mind, unravelling memories of the streets you’ve come to know too well. Images flash behind your eyes—the empty alleys, the shifting shadows, the silence that stretches too long before it breaks. You’ve always trusted your gut, and tonight, it screamed louder than ever.

Something is wrong.

“The city is… unpredictable,” you reply carefully, the words slow as you try to make sense of the thoughts swirling in your head. “Some days, the streets are empty. You might see the occasional horde passing through. They linger for a bit before something else catches their attention—a noise, a movement, anything that draws them away.”

“But hordes… they’re creatures of habit,” Jungwon listens intently as you continue, his brow furrowed, tension tightening his posture. “The noise they make keeps them together, pulling in the surrounding stragglers to join their little marching band. It’s a cycle. And that’s what makes them manageable. You can figure out their patterns, track the way they move, and avoid them if you’re careful.”

“But tonight, though…” You pause, the words lingering on your tongue like a bad taste you can’t quite spit out. “It wasn’t just one or two. It felt like they were coming from everywhere. Every direction.”

Jungwon’s gaze flickers to meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. His expression hardens, the flicker of dread in his eyes matching your own.

“Like someone put them there.”

The words hang in the air, thick and heavy. As soon as you finish, the thought sends a chill down your spine, settling deep in your chest. The silence stretches between you both, tense and oppressive, as the weight of the implication sinks in.

The idea that someone—anyone—might be capable of coordinating something so horrifying is almost impossible to comprehend. Almost.

“Do you think it was deliberate?” you ask, your voice quieter now, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Jungwon exhales slowly, his expression hardening. “Truth is, we don’t know for sure. We were in the city earlier, scouting for car parts to fix up the van. That’s when we thought we ran into members of The Future. But one thing about them—they don’t fuck with the cities. They stick to the communities near their base, taking whatever they need—supplies, weapons, fuel. They think the cities are too dangerous, too unpredictable.” His words hang in the air for a moment before he continues, his voice darker now. “But the way the hordes moved tonight... it felt like someone wanted them to sweep the area.”

The thought settles over you like a heavy fog. “But you don’t think it’s them? The Future?”

Jungwon shakes his head, though the hesitation in his expression is hard to miss. “It’s not their style. They don’t deal in chaos—they deal in control. And releasing hordes into the city? That’s reckless. Dangerous, even for them.”

“If it wasn’t them...” you start, but your voice falters.

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens as it meets yours, steady but grim.

“Then it’s someone else."

You sense that the weight of the conversation is more than you can handle for the rest of the night, and you know Jungwon senses it too. The quiet lingers between you, heavy but not unpleasant, the kind that almost invites you to leave the darkness of your thoughts behind.

“Should I go wake Jake and Ni-ki up for their shift?” you suggest, breaking the silence. You’re not sure whether the talk with Jungwon has helped ease some of your inner turmoil or if the sheer exhaustion from the day’s events is finally catching up to you, but your eyelids are growing heavier with every passing second.

Jungwon shakes his head slightly, his voice calm and even. “I’m actually just going to keep watch for the night. You can turn in if you’re tired.”

You blink at him, his words jolting you back to focus. “What?” you ask, disbelief lacing your tone. “In that case, we’ll take turns. There’s no way I’m leaving you up here alone the entire night. I can only imagine what Jay’s got to say when he wakes up tomorrow and finds out.”

Jungwon’s lips twitch, and then, to your surprise, he laughs—a genuine, unguarded laugh. The sound is startlingly warm, almost foreign in the bleakness of the night. For a moment, it feels like the world around you isn’t as broken as it really is.

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head in mild amusement. “You can rest first. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

His words carry a gentleness you hadn’t expected, and it throws you off balance more than you’d like to admit. You study his face—the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the faint trace of a smile still lingering.

You hesitate, your exhaustion pulling at you, but the lingering sense of distrust—of everything, not just him—roots you in place. “You sure?” you mumble, your voice heavy with fatigue.

“Yeah,” he says with a faint nod, his eyes scanning the dark forest beyond the camp. “I’ve got it.”

“Alright,” you finally agree, leaning back against the railing and letting yourself relax just a fraction. “But don’t forget to wake me.”

“I won’t,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reassuring.

The weight of the day presses down on you like a blanket, and despite your reluctance, you feel your body begin to give in.

Leaning back against the rough planks of the watchtower, you close your eyes, telling yourself you’re just resting them for a moment. But the distant rustling of the trees, the faint crackle of the campfire below, and the steady presence of Jungwon beside you lull you into a state of half-awareness.

At some point, you shift unconsciously, your head tilting until it finds something solid—warm. You’re too far gone to realise what’s happened, the exhaustion dragging you under.

masterlist | part 2 - warmth

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: i'm adapting a new form of writing specifically for this setting. i think i mentioned before how i struggle describing present moments over writing thoughts and monologues. lo and behold, turns out an apocalypse au is all about the present moment... i'm taking this as a challenge and honestly don't have high hopes. but i sincerely appreciate the read from all of you! things will start picking up in the next part~

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @tinycatharsis @M1kkso

taglist open. @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon @l1s0ro @st4rgirl1235

#thatfeelingwhenyou love mail! 💌📫#tfwy moot moot

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oh-no-its-bird · 3 days ago

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Getting deep into the aus in my head rn. Ok so you know that genre of arranged marriage webtoons/novels that's like, "the crazy princess is forced to marry the brave knight by the king, who wants to punish the knight for some reason" and then the princess turns out to either not be crazy or to be amping up the crazy on purpose, probably in order to survive some dark shit happening in the palace?

Ok so like. That. Now make it obkk.

(I'm tempted to say mdtb but obkk just fit better, I think. But also like, shit make it mdtb too, I love this trope)

Now here's the thing; I think there's a super fun argument to be made on both sides for who gets what role.

Crazy prince Obito could totally play into his Tobi persona, which would just be cool symmetry. But also knight Obito could be so cool, just objectively. And it could be interesting to play with a crazy prince Kakashi who like, saw his whole family murdered in front of him and then played up the crazy act to avoid becoming next on the chopping block.

Im going to settle with a prince Obito, so now please buckle up for todays au:

"Crazy" prince Obito who isn't quite as crazy as he seems being forcefully married to war hero general Kakashi of the Hatake dukedom in order to humiliate the Hatake's,,

(this one is nearly 4k words, so we're putting a cut on it)

SO! Starting from the top!

The Hatake dukedom is basically the only power to rival our beloved evil king Madara's throne. Other than them, Madara is pretty much untouchable, so his paranoid ass tries to keep a pretty firm eye and thumb on them. Gotta make sure they remember to stay the hell in line, you know?

So Kakashi is ordered to go to war pretty young, possibly in an attempt to get the young heir killed and cut off the Hatake's at the knees. Only for some years later, Kakashi to pretty much singlehandedly win that war and return this super big war hero. Which is a big problem for Madara, because now the Hatake's have even more political capital. And again, his paranoid ass does not like the possibility of there being someone to rival him in power.

As it is, there are only 3 (living, conscious) Uchiha left.

Madara, who is king.

Obito, a bastard nephew of Madara, who is absolutely fucking insane and only ever let out a tight leash when his insanity amuses Madara. He's only lived this long because his stupidity amuses Madara sometimes, and because he's very clearly no threat to him

And Sasuke, Madara's.... technical spare, who is only allowed to live because of his resemblance to Izuna.

(And somewhere deep in the castle, there sleeps on one Uchiha Izuna, trapped in some sort of coma Madara can not wake him from)

All the other Uchiha were killed (we will return to this) including Itachi and Shisui

(Incidentally, among Kakashi's loyal companions he collected during his years at war, there are two dark haired boys who are so careful to hide their faces when in public. I'm sure there's no relation there.)

So! Kakashi returns from war and Madara is like 'shit, I need to stop this train before it gets too far off the tracks' and invites Kakashi to the palace to "reward" him for his service.

Only when Kakashi gets there, the "reward" he's given is that Madara has arranged a spouse for him— his famously insane bastard nephew.

Getting into the politics of this: Giving him Obito humiliates him in public + gives him a ticking time bomb for a wife + reminds him of his place + gets rid of Obito too, who Madara is probably sick of seeing at this point.

Plus if we like, lean into period typical homophobia or whatever, Madara giving him a husband instead of a wife has implications too. Madara says you will NOT procreate, the Hatake house will NOT have a heir, and if they do then they'll automatically be a bastard who will never have a mother.

Take this crazy guy as ur wife lmao get fucked have fun <3

He's ending the Hatake's and Obito's bloodline in one move, 2 birds with one stone!! He's so smug about this solution he's worked out.

Kakashi, obviously yk, is super offended and panicked and also doesn't even want to get married, especially not to the goddamn famously insane prince, but he cant say no to the king! So he's kind of just forced to bow his head and grit his teeth and say thanks as Madara is all smug and happy on his throne saying some shit about he can't wait for the wedding.

So yk, Kakashi brings Obito home and it's this whole fucking spectacle because Obito is freaking the hell out and acting like a total lunatic

The whole rug pool is that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting. To be clear, Obito does have just a whole list of mental issues, and is genuinely incredibly unstable— he's just also playing it way, way up in order to protect himself from being looked at too hard by Madara.

And obviously, yk, he's suddenly thrown at Kakashi with pretty much no warning for either of them, and he doesn't know who the fuck Kakashi is, other than his reputation for being at war for years now. So he's gonna really crank up the crazy factor because it's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe— at least until he's gotten a better handle of Kakashi what the hell he's all about

Anyways just, Kakashi and his crazy wife Obito,,

Kakashi ofc eventually sniffs out that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting, and Obito is able to act a little more genuine to what he's really like.

Meanwhile we also get lots of Sakumo content, who is around btw and acting Duke Hatake. Also Rin is around, probably as Kakashi's second in command. We also get team ro, who Kakashi collected while he was at war and act as his lill team and trusted confidants

I want to see Obito and Sakumo in particular interacting tbh.

The differences between Madara as Obito's hella abusive shitty uncle who would purposefully provoke and feed into his fits, and his new so much kinder father in law who takes even his best attempts of causing a scene and making a fool of himself with a slow blink and a calm demeanor,,,,,, ough,,

Obito experiences fatherly love for the first time in his life and promptly has several crisis's about it

Now! Rewinding a bit to focus back on Madara / Uchiha situations ->

Madara doesn't really have an official heir. Or he does, but it's Izuna. Who, if you remember, is in that coma.

Madara is deep in denial about the fact that his brother is NOT going to wake up. Get over it Madara, it's been 10 fucking years !!!

Like I mentioned before, Sasuke only got to survive because he looks so much like Izuna. Madara probably straight up calls him Izuna and makes him dress and act like his younger brother sometimes when he's in his worst mental states (it flip flops a lot)

Sasuke can't be around Madara when he drinks bc Madara mistakes him for Izuna and starts alternatively yelling at him for daring to leave him and crying messily all over him

Sasuke is technically heir, but not really. Madara will only ever refer to him as the spare— because obviously, Izuna is going to wake up some day. Obviously. Any day now.

Now obviously, Sasuke already has a big brother! Which Madara does not like. How is he supposed to project all his issues onto Sasuke as a younger brother if Sasuke already has an elder brother?

So like, Madara gets rid of Itachi because he doesn't want Sasuke to have a big brother figure in his life other than him, bc yk, Sasuke is his Izuna shaped stress toy to cope with the loss of his own brother.

Madara sends Itachi to the front lines of the war at like 13 to have him killed. But then Kakashi saves him (team Ro noises,,)

Itachi quietly disappears from the playing field and is written off w the countless unnamed dead, and Madara is satisfied. Meanwhile, a masked assassin joins Kakashi's inner circle,,

(In the castle, in the middle of his grief, an 8 year old Sasuke is told he can address Madara as elder brother)

"How did Izuna even fall into that coma?", I hear you asking. Well!

I am now sliding to u a doctor/mage/saint Tobirama who is somehow the reason Izuna is in his coma (maybe on purpose, maybe by accident)

But Madara can't kill him bc hes like. The best doctor he has. And he needs him to keep Izuna alive in his coma.

"Damn, well how did Tobirama get to be working for Madara?" I now hear you asking

Well! x2, We will now rewind even further, to Madara's childhood ->

Starting it off with: is it even a naruto au without a dash of "childhood friends gone wrong?"

Basically, when Madara was a kid, he got to be close friends with Hashirama. Only for Hashirama to be unwittingly used as a tool by his father, for Butsama to try and overthrow the king of the time, Tajima.

A ploy that nearly worked, Butsama managing to kill Tajima + all of Madara and Izuna's other siblings + most of the other Uchiha right in front of the boys.

At the last second, Madara, with the help of the family's advisor, Zetsu, managed to kill Tajima and divert his plans. But now most of the Uchiha were dead and they had a crisis on their hands.

Madara is put on the throne at like, 13 years old, with only Zetsu to really rely on because everyone else is fucking dead, defected, or suspicious as hell. (Which is why, even decades later, he remains so consistently paranoid of anyone who might have the power to rival the throne; ie, the Hatake)

Anyways. Boy king Madara with his spooky advisor Zetsu at his side.

Zetsu is that trope of a a super obviously creepy and evil royal advisors, you guys know the trope. He is hunched behind Madara's throne whispering into his ear

"Kill them sire,,, they disrespect you,,,"

He like helped raise Madara when he was a young so Madara is DEEP in his pockets. After all, after the Uchiha were nearly overthrown, he was the only adult figure Madara had to depend on.

(To be clear, Madara himself is a shitty person. Zetsu is his own brand of spooky evil guy, and yeah he's a terrible influence on Madara, but Madara has made his own shitty evil choices in this too.)

After everything settled down, Madara had to decide what the hell to do with the remaining Senju— including Hashirama and Tobirama, who were also now among the only survivors of their clan.

Hashirama never meant to betray Madara, but he still did, and for that Madara can bear to look at him or he'll begin to feel sick.

Madara ends up being unable to kill his old best friend (even as Zetsu urges him to do it), and instead just sends him off to some temple deep on the edge of the kingdom, under heavy guard, basically banished from everywhere else in the kingdom. Hashirama goes quietly.

Tobirama, however, he keeps. Forced to serve in the palace as a sort of doctor.

Put him in some sort of magic collar that means he can't disobey a member of Uchiha royalty or smthn fun and fucked up like that, it could be fun. Collar that man !!!!!

Its enchanted w an order like, "you must follow every order given to you by the king" and then later down the line (when Madara is inevitably overthrown) Madara tries to order Tobirama to do smthn, Tobirama just looks at him coldly and goes "you are king no more."

I think whether Tobirama put Izuna in a coma or not would be left intentionally vague. We never know. Not even I know.

Maybe it was an accident, and Madara can only assume the worst because of who his father was and his clear hatred of the Uchiha.

Or maybe it was on purpose, his intrusive thoughts finally winning out. He certainly doesn't seem to have much sympathy or regret for the fact Izuna's been asleep for a decade now

Now, pointing back at Zetsu and Madara

Zetsu is sort of just a generic shadowy advisor for Madara in this. He's running the kingdom behind Madara's shoulder, he just kinda gets to do whatever and thrives bc of it. Zetsu living his best life!!!

Everyone is suffering in some way EXCEPT for Zetsu, who is having a wonderful time

So like. Madara seeming convinced he'll never die. Bc Zetsu has been whispering in his ear ab ideas of eternal life and necromancy, telling him he can rule forever and use this newfound power to wake Izuna. (Which is also ofc why he has no real heir and doesn't seem too worried about it)

(Meanwhile in the bg Tobirama is being used for his research. He's… happy about this, actually. He's thriving, just a little bit. Madara lets him play with dead bodies. And yeah, it sucks he has to obey the bastards commands, he's given p much unlimited funds and just kinda makes cool taboo shit as he researches immortality. He still bitches ab it tho.

Maybe in the end, he'll drag Madara out from the dungeons by the scruff like hes a wet cat and says smthn vague ab how hes going to be calling the shots from now on, and they disappear into the night)

So anyways. Inhuman somehow vaguely immortal Zetsu— who's been running out on his immortality juice.

Maybe we can play w Kaguya and the Hatake clans involvement? Zetsu gets his power from siphoning off of Kaguya, but the Hatake's of these past few generations have been worshipping her too, so she no longer has eyes only for Zetsu— meaning he no longer gets as much power from her.

Which is also why he's pushing Madara to hit the Hatake's w the ban hammer, because he wants them out of the way so Kaguya will look his way again.

(Or at the very least, Tobirama can hurry up and inventory human immortality already so Zetsu can try out a new method)

If you wanna get extra fucky with it, we can go with a 'son of Kaguya' Kakashi au, and throw in even more fucked up moon goddess family drama. Kakashi has no idea he's even related to the moon goddess, but Zetsu is losing his fucking mind because he's no longer his mothers number one special little boy anymore

What even is an obkk au without heaps of family drama in all directions?

Ok so, rewinding back to where we were, with newly wed Obito and Kakashi ->

So, Kakashi has been at war for some years now and has a lot of shit to do and catch up on now that he's back. Including catching back up with his dad, who he hasn't been able to see for any longer than a week tops in years. Very emotional! Very fun! Madara is a bastard for keeping them apart

But specifically tho. Kakashi helping Itachi to reunite with Sasuke.

I mentioned before that Kakashi collected team ro while he was out at war, and each of them probably has some sort of mini quest to fulfil,,

Senju bastard Tenzo who maybe grew up in the same church Hashirama was banished to, but was eventually sent away by Hashirama who couldn't bear to see him live the same isolated life as him (and maybe feared that Tenzo would be killed if Madara heard there was a new mokuton user)

Itachi and Shisui, Itachi being sent away to die and Shisui being an Uchiha bastard who either Madara thought he managed to kill (but escaped the massacre of his own remaining family Madara would eventually pull) or who got sent away with itachi to die at war. And just them wanting to reunite with Sasuke, their only remaining family left, who they worry for every day that he's left alone with Madara.

Im thinking tho. Sasuke eventually somehow escaping on his own (before team ro can even try to sae him) and managing to get to the Hatake dukedom,,,, Kakashi and Obito end up basically adopting him, pass it on

Super emotional Sasuke and Itachi reunion my beloved,,, I want Sakumo to try and dad them both, it'd be fun. Sakumo is just dad-ing everyone in this au, he's so father shaped

Sasuke spending so many years alone w only Madara as his family and maybe a weirdly fucked up and distant uncle-ish energy Tobirama who he regularly sees Madara going out of his way to make his life miserable.

But also like, obviously: Sakura and Naruto. I bet those two helped him escape tbh

Uhh knights in training Naruto and Sakura who are so determined to protect their prince Sasuke (even as Sasuke tells them he doesnt need his protection)

What if Sakura is training under Tobirama in place of Tsunade? Could be fun, idk.

Where is Tsunade in this, is she dead? Was she ever born? Did Madara steal her from Hashirama to make her work in the castle? Could be fun,, on that note too, Orochimaru might be somewhere around here, working with Tobirama to unlock immortality for Zetsu/Madara (*cough* himself *cough*)

Anyways, knights Sakura and Naruto who enter the palace so starry eyed for their beloved king Madara and prince Sasuke,,, only to slowly realize this is NOT the fluffy sparkly fairytale they thought this was going to be.

Im thinking narusasusaku energy where Sakura and Naruto are being silly and competing for their beloved, closed off ice prince's attention, alternating between fighting each other for Sasuke to look at them and teaming up to get rid of potential rivals

Meanwhile Sasuke is looking on at these fucking idiots blatant attempt to throw themselves at him in that way that only kids can, alternating between being annoyed and exasperated and trying to hide how amused he is. They are one of the only bright spots in his life ,,,

Madara doesn't even really have a reason to fuck Sasuke over w them tbh, honestly he might even encourage it just bc they're knights in training and he wants his spare to be well protected (against everyone but him lmao)

Madara is shitty but Sasuke is in this really weird position where he's probably the safest from him. Beccause, you know, Izuna. There's a lot of emotional abuse there and incredibly unhealthy dependency from Madara's end, projecting Izuna onto Sasuke. But for the most part, Madara dotes on him. Because, again, Izuna. Though there's also probably a certain amount of genuine fondness Madara has grown for him

He only really gets violent if it looks like someone will try and take Sasuke away from him (particularly in a familial way, which is what got Itachi (almost) killed)

Naruto and Sakura are deemed safe by Madara because they too are under his control, and every prince does need a good knight.

He might even think their not so well hidden crushes would be good for him, because that way he can count on them to ruin any of Sasuke's future romantic prospects for him. And if Sasuke ends up getting with his knights, he will never have a reason to leave the castle, even once he's an adult. A win win for Madara!

Madara approaching Sakura and Naruto both, telling them he thinks theyre just soooo good at being knights and, obviously you know, as their king he will hope they give him lots of updates about Sasuke.

Both Sakura and Naruto are super starry eyed and all for it at first, but Sakura quickly realizes that Madara is asking them to spy on Sasuke for him.

Sasuke himself is not surprised and probable expects it. This is what Madara has done with every single other person that he's ever looked at longer than 3 seconds.

There is a reason Sasuke has no friends, and it's not just because he doesn't want any. That one time when he was 9 and he told his playmate that he missed his big brother and hoped he would come back soon, only for Madara to later drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, scream at him and threaten to send him to die on the front lines with his brother if he really wanted to be with him so bad— well, that kind of gave him trust issues. Understandably.

Thinking also that over the years, while Kakashi was at war, Madara was keeping Sakumo from going to see his son by claiming he needed him close to the palace. So, like, Sakumo interacting with Sasuke on and off over the years,,, just this occasional figure of stability Sasuke is never supposed to talk to for too long,, this man he knows Madara is scared of, who feels so warm to him.

And Sakumo, missing Kakashi so much, interacting with Sasuke thinking about how 'my son was this small, when your uncle sent him to die' and nearly crying about it later.

Anyways just sasusakunaru,,, prince sasuke and his two knights who enter the castle at like 12, starry eyed and fulled of hope— but slowly becoming disillusioned as they realize what kind of life Sasuke is really living.

Them going from swearing to protect their prince with all the strength and surety of a couple of hopeful kids with big dreams— to really, genuinely meaning it, and eventually helping him escape from Madara's hands.

And then ofc them fleeing to the Hatake dukedom, where Sakumo and Kakashi give him sanctuary and he gets to see Itachi again. Who, by the way, he thought was dead and had NO idea was here. Yayy!

Anyways!

Endgame of Kakashi and Obito overthrowing Madara and tossing him into the dungeons. Tobirama ends up dragging Madara out of the dungeons and they disappear into the night together, never to be seen again. (with the implications of a sudden very sharp shift in power between them something to think about off screen)

Sasuke becomes king bc neither Kakashi or Obito wants the throne, and rules with his trusty knights (and partners) Naruto and Sakura.

Obito is happy being a trophy wife for Kakashi, this is actually his ideal ending (after the horror and stress of adjusting to this new unknown life)

Sakumo meanwhile gets to be godfather of the first sasusakunaru kids and swears to protect the Uchiha family for as long as he can

The end, or something

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witless-winion1 · 2 days ago

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My thoughts on the paralyzed!Polites AU

(Which I really should do more research on; inspired by this)

Odysseus cries when Polites first wakes up

Eurylochus almost cries. Instead just let’s out a very shaky, relieved sigh and tells his friend “I’m glad you’re back”

his vision is messed with in that classic “Eye for an eye” vibe

His left arm is broken and yet he still insists on greeting the world with open arms

“Don’t you mean open arm?”

“You hush, Perimedes.”

So much survivor’s guilt but he’s very thankful to be alive and honors his fallen friends with Ody and everyone else

He basically can’t walk without help

Odysseus carves him a cane himself

It has a bunch of super cool details, including a winion

Polites adores it

(perhaps they go back to the Lotus Eater island and kidnap a winion for Polites? Like a comfort animal. Give Polites, my Disney Princess Pancake, a familiar plz)

But Polites needs a lot of help with things that require both arms or both legs or gods forbid all four

one dumbass numbnuts comments “would’ve been kinder to let him die” under his breath after Polites wakes up

Captain nearly throws him overboard

obviously

“My best friend would be delighted to live life in whatever form it came to him! You shut your fucking mouth and if I ever hear you ask such wretched nonsense again I’m going to put you on latrine duty for a month, am I understood?”

Eurylochus has to hold him back during this

Eurylochus also immediately assumes position of bodyguard of Polites.

He and Odysseus soon begin fighting over this job

they decide to share custody

(eventually)

OPEN ARMS REPRISES BUT HES ACTUALLY ALIVE!!!!

plot? Oh yeah plot

lmao what plot

after the Cyclopes passes out Ody is too busy making sure his friend is okay (which he is not). He gets somebody to check the other smashees and then stays by Poli’s side (no, he don’t give a shit that he’s captain, you guys go stab his eye, he’s asleep it’s not that fucking hard)

Odysseus carries Polites when the Cyclopes wakes up

he’s too busy thinking about getting him back to the ship and calling the best doctors from the 12 ships so he tells everyone to grab the sheep and HUSTLE

Athena grabs him and starts with her “HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE LESSONS I TAUGHT YOU? HE’S STILL A THRE-”

“ATHENA IM BUSY RN WE CAN TALK LATER”

“BUT HE’S STILL ALIVE-”

“WE’RE LEAVING BRO! HE’S NOT GONNA FUCKING SWIM AFTER US!”

they’re not on best terms for a while after that but they still reconcile after

then they get home! Whoop de do, congrant, 99.7777777778% of the canon plot avoided

when they get home and our sunshine is actually properly long-term treated, Odysseus and Telemachus’s first big father-son bonding project is to make Polites’ house more accessible for him

and Telemachus fucking loves Polites. Best Uncle Award. They vibe so hard that Odysseus cries

he almost cries when Penelope starts weaving clothes that are easier for his friend to wear. He’s a tiinnyyy bit jealous but he’s still so happy. And Penelope noticed and weaves her dear husband some clothes too, all his old ones are stinky asf

Eurylochus and all Poli’s friends from the ship still visit regularly. It’s just a big happy family

and nobody dies, not even Nobody

(except for those other guys from the Cyclopes cave but this ain’t about them)

#paralyzed Polites #Is that an official AU yet #Well fuck it I’m making it one #epic musical #epic polites #epic fandom #epic the musical #epic odysseus #epicthemusical #odysseus #epic #polites #polites epic the musical #epic eurylochus #epic fanfic #epic au #epic the musical au

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jd-loves-fiction · 2 days ago

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Requesting a Jade Leech thing where the reader and Jade have been broken up with, but he’s a manipulative bastard and fully intends on charming them back. Get as creative as you want with the prompt, I just wanna see him being all scheming lmao

(I’ve had “bad idea right?” stuck in my head on loop)

🌑I'm gonna make this a bit more comedic, hope you like it :))

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Jade seemed strangely unaffected when you told him you wanted to break up, accepting it easily with an oddly peaceful smile on his face. Just what is he up to?

You tried to steer clear of him for a while, in fear of what he might be scheming as well as for your own emotional stability, but he always just seemed to be there.

Studying in the library? There he is, just standing around suspiciously, looking as effortlessly beautiful as always.

Enjoying a snack at the lounge? He’s the only one who brings it to you everytime, despite how many other workers there are, flashing a soft, gentlemanly smile and wishing you ‘bon appétit’ in a sugar sweet tone.

Talking to a cute underclassman stuttering through his attempt at asking for your number? Suddenly he seizes up like he’s being shocked and makes up some sorry excuse to run off in the other direction. When you turn around, there he is, smiling innocently and waving at you from where he stands – no doubt having a hand in what just happened.

You quickly started to understand why he looked so unbothered when you were breaking up with him – that was his scheming face, already thinking up ways of driving you back to his arms.

Loneliness won't be what does it. You’re stubborn, damn it! And the more he tries the more you want to see how far he’s willing to take this little game. It shows effort, at least, it’s just a shame he seems so hellbent on making you give in instead of having an adult conversation.

So you play his game. Jade is a jealous man – nothing makes him spring into action like envy, this you know for certain. Next time you pass by the lounge to study, you make sure to sit at the bar and never acknowledge him, instead making loud conversation with Floyd about… whatever it is he’s rambling about, though he seems to be in a happy mood which is good for you.

He talks so much at you that it’s barely a conversation, more like a sermon of some kind – especially so given his passionate tone, Though you know Jade pays little mind to those details while he’s boiling with jealousy behind the bar. And to anyone watching you two it sure looks like you’ve moved on from Jade and onto his brother.

You leave the lounge that day exhausted but pleased, knowing you’ve successfully riled Jade up more than he did you. Maybe this’ll be enough for him to let you move on… but then again… do you want to move on?

Caught up in your conflicting thoughts you fail to hear him approach until he’s breathing down your neck. Startling, your back bumps against a nearby wall as you quickly turn around, seeing Jade right in front of you with a strangely neutral expression on his pretty face.

“...Jade?” You try to sound casual, but you’re sure the fright seeps into your tone regardless of your efforts.

He calls your name softly in turn, a troubled look crossing his face for a moment, “Had a fun time listening to Floyd prattle?”

Lips twisting in indignation, you righten your posture, “Very much so! He's a surprisingly good listener – compared to a certain brother of his.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.” You assure him disingenuously, arms crossed petulantly. Jade watches you silently for a moment, a familiar look of longing in his eyes – forming a tightness in your chest, before he sighs heavily. For a moment you think he might finally be honest with you, open up about how he truly feels and vow to be better – it’s all it’d take for you to take him back. But of course, it can't be that easy to change such a man.

For now, he settles for leaning in close, one hand against the wall behind you and taking a lock of hair between his fingers before bringing it to his lips. You hold in an undignified squeal.

“Just don't have too much fun with him. We both know he could never compare.”

You scoff, “I think you’ve been watching too many romance movies. You seem to be getting slightly delusional.” Shouldering past him you walk away without looking back to see his thoughtful expression. Not that you’d know what it means or care! Hmph!

If only you could both just talk to each other, there’d be no need for these silly games. Though they sure are fun…

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #twst x reader #disney twst #twst x y/n #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x you #jade x reader #jade leech #disney twisted wonderland #twst jade #twst jade x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech x yuu

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strangeaxel · 3 days ago

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you appear to draw isaac and gerard as being very physically close. cuddly even (:3c), and i want to learn more about this specific aspect because its so cute.. were they always like that? did they have to build up a lot of trust in each other first? how do they see and engage with touch? are/were they ever touch starved?

Drawing a made for the ask lalalala

First of all, thanks for the question! <3

In Gerard's case he used to touch Isaac's hands for example or shoulders to basically indicate he was safe with him and also try to communicate he wanted something more than a friendship with him when they were starting to know each other. I feel like even tho Gerard doesn't consider he's romantic himself in a traditional way i feel he actually is-- (Like when Susana Gimenez asked Charly Garcia if he was romantic and he said yes and Susana asked him "really? You like a dinner, with roses and candles??" And he said "i said im romantic, not stupid" lmao) He calls bitch pet names and cute things even tho she's always abusive towards him, he still tries, so imagine how much freedom could he have with someone like Isaac, a guy that has an anxious attachedment style. I feel he is the way he is in the game as a way of self defense, a way for him to cope with all the shit he has to go through all the time xD so he can't show much emotion or tries to hide it with humor, but in Isaac's world, this paradise isn't so bad, it's more,,, realistic. He doesn't have the constant need to hide his needs in a relationship like he used to (Well, only in private since ... its the 90s-2000s, duh). Gerard started to be more expressive with his physical touch towards Isaac as went time on, cuz of isaac's delusions of people being infected or sinful (this last one mostly because of his alters, for example, Demon) and also so Isaac could have time to process his own feelings, being someone who tries/tried to be a devoted christian this relationship felt wrong in all senses, it took him some time to accept he indeed liked him. Isaac isn't someone who would be nagging you on the streets is he saw you in, for example, a gay relationship, he's ignorant mostly, he doesn't have evil intentions (he also uses this ignorant/innocent view as a way to cope with his own emotions towards man).

While in Isaac's case, once he accepted it/half accepted it started to do your typical couple stuff, only in private, he gets mad when Gerard holds his hand on public and even tho this bothers Gerard a little bit he just can't complain, he understands but also well... his wife was much worst than this. Isaac feels safe cuddling with him, he feels like nothing wrong can happend when he's around (even tho Gerard's bad luck follows him everywhere lol), sometimes when he's having strong episodes because of his delusion it feels like he and him are the only non infected. Isaac has BPD so touch and words mean a lot to him even tho he isn't the best showing his love in a conventional way + he's non verbal for most of the time, it's like they both have two different types of autism lol

I think that's all i have to say about this at least for now, i'm still working on the ship but these types of questions really help me to understand and think of ways to improve it, thanks a lot for the question once again, i'm glad people are interested in knowing about my au/ship.

The song i used as lyrics for the drawing (i love this Tribute so much, please go check it out):

youtube

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lexirosewrites · 2 days ago

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gwtting my slick sunday submission in early for once lmao (if you think this does not qualify for slick sunday, that's totally fine!)

A little angsty, but here we are - omega Steve from an underground fighting ring. Either consensual, or nonsensically. You'd think that the crowds would be more interested in seeing the big, bad, hulking alphas beating the spit out of each other, and they do, but it turns out the big bucks are in putting two omegas in the pit. See, here's the funny thing about nature: it's never the biggest, most in-your-face males who fight the hardest. It's the mothers. The ones with young to protect against the world. Alphas fight to impress. Omegas fight to kill.

Alpha Eddie, down on his luck, no one's buying and it's getting harder to make honest money, hears from a friend of a friend a way to make some better cash, if he can take a couple hits. Eddie coming down to the ring. Getting into it, feeling the vibes. He can do this - he's smaller and craftier, he may be able to take down some of these meatheads, get a couple hundred a night for his trouble.

And then he stays late enough to see the 'after-hours' showdowns.

What the shove into the metal chain link cage is an omega, with doe eyes, pretty brown hair, and a thick, leather collar around his neck. His jaw, shoulders, mouth and nose bridge, are blanketed in scars, where killing bites had tried and failed to get purchase. His ears are notched and torn, and he's looking at the huge bull of an alpha they throw in with him. Some hot-knot that Eddie had been talking to earlier, also new to the place.

Eddie learns very quickly what it sounds like when a trachea is almost crushed in a pair of jaws. The omega has to be pulled off.

"Don't know why the owners keep lettin' that little fucker back in again and again," the beta to Eddie's right mutters. "I think they just find it funny at this point."

Eddie only has eyes for the omega stumbling out of the pit and moving the counter to collect his due.

Eddie and I are both in love with this version of scary omega Steve😍

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #my asks #tw violence #violence #cw violence

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binnybinnychickendinny · 3 days ago

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psa for all of hockeyblr: please please PLEASE try to keep your lb posts out of other teams’ lb tags!!!! i think i speak for everyone when i say that it is really annoying to go into my own team’s lb tag and see hate posts from fans of whoever we’re playing against! you can still make hate posts; idc about that and i’m certainly not innocent of it myself, but there are ways to keep it from going into other teams’ tags.

to be clear, this is absolutely the fault of tumblr’s wacky tagging system, but that’s probably not going to be fixed any time soon. so for the sake of civility let’s all try to find a work-around instead of being rude, right?

with the way the tagging system is currently set up, if you make a post that has a) your lb tag and b) a tag that mentions the name of the team you’re playing against, it WILL end up in the opposition’s lb tag. so just as an example, let’s say you put “leafs lb” and “i hate the oilers” as two separate tags. that will make the post show up under “oilers lb”. it’s silly, but that’s how it works.

HOWEVER. i think a pretty easy work-around for this (if you feel that you absolutely must express your distaste for a team in the tags) is to not use the same reference to the team that their lb tag uses. so like, if you say “i hate edmonton” instead of “i hate the oilers”, then it shouldn’t show up under “oilers lb” anymore. again, i know it’s silly, but it could solve a lot of strife within this community.

i think a lot of people on here genuinely don’t understand that that’s how the tagging system sorts things, so hopefully this post helps a bit. i always try to be conscious of this when posting about other teams, but even i probably slip up sometimes. i just think that being aware of the issue is still helpful!

and again, this is NOT meant to say that you can’t post about teams you dislike. it’s a sports fandom. most if not all people are going to have teams they aren’t fond of, and that’s perfectly okay. one of the most popular posts in the fandom right now is about being shocked by who other people are fans of, lmao. this is just suggesting that it would be a good idea to try to keep such posts out of the space of your hated team’s fans. bc otherwise you might just make people angry. yk?

anyway. that’s it! thanks for reading all of this if you did :)

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adrixivy · 3 days ago

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Names/Pet names that I KNOW Wade calls Peter

(Actually sweet names. I don’t believe in Wade calling Peter hella mean BUT accurate names of him. Maybe once in awhile but I’m not creative enough to think of it so you guys can think of some!)

Spidey/ My Spider- Its just very weird for him to call Peter ‘Spider-Man’. Like c’mon he’ll admit he’s his man but calling him the full thing gives him ‘That one friend who you always call by his nickname because its weird to say their actual name’ vibes

Baby Boy- We all know this is a fan favorite and common! Well Wade sees Peter as his baby. And it’s basically calling him baby girl but just following his gender ykyk.

Baby/Babe- Hella common among couples. He calls him this when he’s spamming Peter in text or begging Peter on his knees for something he wants and he needs a word to constantly repeat. (BABY BABY BABY BABY PLEASEEEEEE)

Love- Very common but he often only say it in his gentle voice that he only uses with Peter, like reassuring him or they’re having a heart felt moment

Pookie- He thinks it’s incredibly cute whereas Peter is slightly icked. (I’m one of the firm believers that Pookie is weird and I think Peter is the same)

Sweetcheeks/ Sweettums- It’s his version of sweetheart LMAO. And he uses it right after a conversation about Peter’s ass or if he was thinking a lot about it

Angel- Peter was like an angel in his darkness when he first met Peter. Like sure he was killing people and an angel came to stop him, shining a light on a brighter path that he could take alongside the said angel. It’s very rare he calls Peter it but he mostly uses this to make Peter flustered. And it does. He makes Peter immediately pause and stare at Wade blankly, short circuiting the Spider’s brain. Wade took awhile to reactivate the Spider back online but meanwhile, he was carrying the man around like a bag

Baby Boo/ or just Boo- Most of the time, he ends his sexual jokes with Boo. (I would love that ass to sit on my face baby boo) (Wade stop it or I’m hanging you off empire state again)

Cutie- Peter is cute. What other reason does Wade have to call Peter that??

Mi Amor- He uses it as a joke often cause we all know Wade loves to speak Spanish and whenever he uses it, Peter knows he’s in for a sudden Spanish quiz

Any positive word and end it with boy- it’s pretty much a spin the wheel decision in his head. The voices host a variety show type and he spins a wheel on what adjective to use (eg: Sweet boy). He simply calls whatever he’s feeling like calling Peter.

Petey/Petey Pie- When they’re alone and eating their nightly patrol meals type vibe, he often calls him Petey

Peter- Serious talks are when he only calls Peter by his names like he’s apologizing for a mistake or he wants to talk to Peter about something

These are simply what I BELIEVE/THINK/HEADCANON that Wade calls Peter. Please don’t attack me or criticize it. But you guys can add your own ideas. I’d love to see more!

#Wade is definitely more creative but I’m not #Peter is NEVER bored with the names #and Wade because the man is wild #like i call my man SOME of this #its actually pretty cute to think like this #marvel #marvel universe #marvel headcanons #peter parker #spiderman #wade wilson #deadpool #spideypool #spiderman x deadpool

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yunholic-jongholic · 2 days ago

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From Tension to Tenderness | J.YH x Reader

SUMMARY | You have been trying to get Yunho's attention all day, but he keeps promising you one more round or five more minutes on his game. It’s bad enough you are wearing his hoodie and you and Yunho have a big fight. A bit later, Yunho feels bad about their previous treatment of you and tries to make amends. This, somehow, ends up with soft, gentle make up sex.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | One Shot, Some Fighting/Arguing, NSFW, Smut, Make Up Sex, Fingering, Praise Kink, Hand Kink, Breast-play, Unprotected Sex (Don't do that.), Creampie. Drug-Use-Mentioning, Alcoholism-Mentioning (I might miss some, not sure... Sorry if I did!)

WORD COUNT | 2.2k

AUTHOR NOTE | Screaming, Crying, Throwing Up. Y'ALL I FOR REAL FELT LIGHTHEADED WRITING THIS ONE. ANYWAYS FINALLY A YUNHO STORY!!! I AM SO SORRY for being this late lmao. I struggled with wanting to make a Yunho story but every topic I kept finding I found for other members more. lol Anyways, hope you enjoy my fellow hotteok sister wives!

•

Yunho was sprawled on the couch in the living room, fully immersed in his video game. Meanwhile, you were in the bedroom, getting dressed after a refreshing shower. As you glanced around, you noticed his hoodie crumpled on the floor. Picking it up, you brushed off a bit of dust, the fabric still warm from his body. Without thinking much, you slipped it on, the faint scent of him lingering, a comforting reminder that he’d just worn it moments ago before diving into his game. You went to the living room and sat beside him watching him play his game.

"Hey," you said softly with a gentle smile, not really expecting a response since he was completely locked into his game. You moved closer, the familiar sounds of the game filling the room, and gently rested your head on his shoulder. The warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breathing brought a comforting sense of calm as you relaxed beside him, content just to be near him.

"Yunho..." you hummed softly, your voice laced with a hint of neediness as you sought his attention. He glanced at you briefly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips but didn’t respond. Determined, you scooted closer, nuzzling into the curve of his neck, your voice dropping to a gentle whisper. "Can you take a break? I want to cuddle with you."

He let out a small sigh, fingers still moving swiftly on the controller. "Just one more round, we’re almost done. Don’t worry, I’ll be yours in five minutes," he replied, eyes glued to the screen. You let out an exaggerated whine, clearly unimpressed with his usual excuse. "That’s always your response..." you pouted, crossing your arms dramatically.

You took his half-hearted apology as a sign that he was done and ready to give you, his attention. Without hesitation, you gently reached out, turning his face towards yours, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. For a brief moment, Yunho melted into the kiss, his lips responding warmly to yours.

But just as you thought you had won, he pulled back slightly, a sly grin flickering on his face, and—without missing a beat—started a new game. You stared at him in disbelief, your mouth slightly agape. "Seriously?" you huffed, your pout returning with full force.

Yunho chuckled under his breath, clearly amused, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I swear, after this one," he mumbled, though you knew better than to trust that promise. Determined, you plotted your next move—because this wasn’t over. You waited a couple more minutes and around he was nearly done with the round of his game. You laid on his lap wrapping your arms around his waist smiling up at him.

"Fuck!" Yunho let out a frustrated curse as his game ended in defeat once again. His irritation was palpable as he abruptly set the controller down, gently but absentmindedly pushing you to the side as he stood up, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. You huffed out angrily as he pushed you to the side.

"No, I’m sorry, but I really need to beat this round right now," Yunho groaned, plopping back down on the opposite side of the couch. Frustrated, he snatched up his controller, ready to start a new game. But before he could, you marched over and snatched the controller right out of his hands.

"Okay, you know what? I’m only asking for five minutes to cuddle. Just five minutes. You easily find time to play your games, even though you’re on them all day when I’m at work and school. You could be playing then," you snapped, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh, your patience wearing thin. He got up towering above you and stared down at you. You went silent, your lips trembling into a pout as you felt a sting behind your eyes, tears threatening to fall. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally spoke, your voice soft but laced with hurt.

"Yunho, I work every day to help us afford this life together. All I’m asking for is a little time with you. But it feels like you’d rather be glued to your games—you’re acting like you’re addicted." Your gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet his eyes as your heart ached.

In an instant, Yunho’s frustration shifted. His hand reached out, firm but not harsh, as he gently gripped your face, tilting it up so your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, sharp like daggers, filled with a mix of anger, guilt, and something else buried deep beneath the surface—something unspoken.

"I am not addicted, and if I was, you should be glad I’m not addicted to drugs or alcohol—something that could actually hurt you," Yunho growled through gritted teeth, his frustration boiling over. His harsh words hit you like a slap, and a slight shiver ran through your body. You pushed him away, the sting of his tone and the weight of his words sending tears streaming down your face.

"Well, I am glad you’re not…" you whispered, your voice trembling, thick with emotion. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Your heart pounding, you turned and walked quickly to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. The sharp click of the lock echoed in the silence that followed, leaving Yunho standing there, the air heavy with words that couldn’t be taken back.

About an hour had passed, the room now filled with the faint remnants of your quiet sobs, your tears soaked into the pillow you’d clung to like a fragile anchor. The weight of your first real fight with Yunho sat heavy in your chest, a painful contrast to the warmth and laughter that usually filled the space you shared. The man who had been your rock, your comfort, and your partner for three years now felt like a stranger—just on the other side of the door.

A soft knock echoed through the silence, hesitant and careful, as if Yunho wasn’t sure whether to disturb you or not. You closed your eyes, a small whine escaping your lips, the ache of the argument still fresh. You weren’t ready—not yet. Facing him meant confronting the hurt, the sharp words, and the emotions tangled in between.

Another knock followed, softer this time, almost like an apology wrapped in the sound. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, turning away from the door, fighting the urge to open it. The memory of his frustrated gaze lingered in your mind, but so did the warmth of all the moments you’d shared nights filled with whispered dreams, spontaneous laughter, and gentle touches.

But right now, all of that felt distant. You weren’t sure if you were ready to close that distance just yet. You heard Yunho's voice softly speak from the other side of the door.

"Y/N… can you please open the door?" Yunho's voice came through softly, filled with a hint of regret. You let out a heavy sigh, pushing yourself up from the bed. Slowly, you made your way to the door, hesitating for a brief moment before unlocking it. As you opened the door, your eyes met his, searching for something unspoken in his gaze. Without a word, he stepped inside, his presence filling the room as the tension hung in the air between you. Yunho hugged you softly wrapping his arms around your body. His warmth somehow comforted you.

"I'm sorry for the argument earlier..." he murmured with a sigh, his arms still wrapped securely around you. With a deep breath, you slowly lifted your arms—though they felt weighed down by lingering emotions—and gently wrapped them around his waist, returning his embrace. He slowly picked you up into his arms carrying you to the bed suggesting he wanted to cuddle and be comforted.

"I don't like we fought. I am really sorry baby." He whispered to you looking down at you as he softly pressed his lips against yours. You accepted his apology and continued to kiss him. You felt his arms lift your waist again now making you sit up on his lap.

"Let me make it up to you... I want you to know how much I love you..." he whispered and soon you felt his hands go up your body but underneath your clothes. He continued to kiss you, but it got more passionate. You felt his hand snap your bra off and he helped you take it off but leaving his sweater on you. You felt extremely warm feeling his hand caress your bare skin underneath his/your sweater.

"Yunho..." you hummed, shifting on his lap as he kept caressing your body. His lips now attached to your neck as he laid you on the bed and lifted the sweater to your chest exposing your breasts. Yunho softly placed his hand over one gently squeezing and rubbing the nipple with his thumb, causing you to moan softly. You pulled his face up from your neck to kiss him again. He then sat up and pulled your pants and underwear off along with his clothes. He was fully aroused in the moment and only needed you.

"I love you so much, you are so beautiful." Yunho whispered into your ear as he pulled u back onto his lap, now having your back face him as he lifted your legs up over his legs. His lips attached to your neck once again, now sliding his hand down your inner thigh caressing it. You felt the heat rush to your core getting you excited.

"I love you too Yunho." You moaned out as you felt one of his fingers rub against your cunt. You felt his other hand crawl up your waist onto your chest again as he squeezed and played with one of your breasts. You moaned a bit louder, feeling yourself melt in under his touch. Yunho finally slid one finger in between your folds commenting how wet you already are. You didn't respond only just so deep into this heating moment. Yunho groaned as he started practically fucking you with his finger causing you to moan louder.

"Yunho please!" You begged him gripping his wrist as he now shoved another finger in. It aroused him even more that you were weak and helpless when it comes to his hands, and he knew how to use them against you. You were now digging your nails into his wrists, moaning, and grinding upwards. He groaned at your actions.

"Fuck." he exhaled and kissed your neck deeply squeezing your breast even more as if it was a stress ball relaxing him. You threw your head back fighting the urge to moan extremely loud by biting your lip. Yunho couldn't take it anymore; he needed you so much now. He pulled his fingers out and laid you on your back hovering above you. You gave him a soft look in his eyes full of deep lust and love.

"You drive me absolutely crazy," he chuckles softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Yunho lifts one leg as he aligns the tip of his cock right against your entrance. He slowly pushes in groaning at the feeling. He leans over you and starts thrusting into you. You moan nonstop now.

You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your lips meet again, deepening the kiss with a tenderness that speaks volumes. His hands instinctively find their way to your waist, holding you as if afraid to let go, the tension from earlier melting away with every passing second.

Yunho thrusts in deeper causing you to whine from the pleasure. You felt your insides practically melting as his tip kissed your sweet spot causing you to let out higher and louder moans.

"Yunho!" You almost scream feeling him now practically getting sloppier with his thrusts. Yunho's cock was twitching inside you causing your sensitive insides to wrap around him nicely. He groaned whispering in your ear, "I am about to cum." He wrapped his hand over your neck sitting up as he was now pounding deep inside you.

"Please..." you moaned loudly, soon he gave one final deep thrust before cumming inside. You felt his warmth leave you as he pulled out. You were both panting exhaustedly. Yunho laid down beside you and kissed your lips softly wrapping his arms around you cuddling you.

"I love you very much Y/N." Yunho smiled at you. You smiled back kissing his nose, "I love you too Yunho." you giggled feeling better you both made up.

•

I am weak on my knees right now. I for real felt so lightheaded and dizzy writing this. this is absolutely insane. I am sorry for annoying y'all with stories... Lol.

#ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #yunho fanfic

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slcmml · 2 days ago

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teacher! charlie & reader — me + you = ♡

i don’t know who agrees with me on this, but i’ve been onto math teacher! charlie & english teacher! reader since dinosaurs went extinct..

♡ i’m thinking a middle school setting.. eighth grade, perhaps. you’re across the hall from each other, but don’t talk too often. not much apart from the shy waves in the morning and small talk while waiting outside of your classrooms to greet your students.

♡ well, that was until charlie started having computer issues. now, don’t get me wrong, he’s a very intelligent man! but he fucking hates these school issued chromebooks they’ve handed out to students.

♡ he usually assigns most work on paper since it’s math, but the school asked for him to start using ixl or fucking khan academy, i don’t know. something online that students can access in case they lose their papers.

♡ but you? you used chromebooks all the time! you weren’t cruel enough to make your students write their papers by hand!

♡ none of charlie’s students could figure out what was wrong with the chromebooks, and neither could he, so he went across the hall to get some help (all embarrassed too.. so cute).

“hi! sorry to interrupt, but i’m having trouble getting my students chromebooks to work? do you think you could help?”

♡ of course, being a nice person, you invite him into your classroom and happily help the man. you explain to him why it was broken and how to fix it etc (he wasn’t listening btw, was staring at you the entire time, he thinks you’re so beautiful).

♡ and after that interaction, charlie tries to talk to you more. (YOU’RE SOOOOO BEAUTIFUL HE JUST WANTS TO BE AROUND YOU) in the break room, he’ll ask how your classes are going, and at lunch, he’ll stop by to see what you’re doing, and even at the end of the day, he’ll check up on you to make sure you don’t stay at the school too late.

♡ his students do not fail to notice this. in fact, they encourage it. “but mr dalgeish, my chomebook is broken! can you please ask them to fix it? i want to finish my work so i don’t have to do it at home!” how could he turn down an opportunity to see you?

♡ he tells his class to keep a low volume while he leaves the room for a moment, walking over to your classroom with his student’s chromebook before knocking.

“hello. sorry, again, for interrupting. i’m not quite sure what’s wrong with this chromebook… could you help?” “oh, don’t worry about it! of course i’ll help!”

♡ you start to take a liking to mr dalgeish too.. he’s quite cute, isn’t he? :) he seems so nervous to talk to you outside of the routine good mornings, which you adore.

“so, uh, how was your weekend?” “it was nice! i got to relax and not worry about grading, so what more could i ask for?” “haha, yeah, i, uh, i agree!”

♡ your students probably get so sick of you both. smiling at him while he stumbles over his words like an idiot. one of his students probably try to stage a note, but it’s so obvious that it’s from said student LMAO.

‘dear beautiful english teacher please date me - mr d’

♡ you put a note on his desk with the note from the student attached.

‘so mr d, do you know what this is about?’

♡ oh GOD. he’s so embarrassed. he spends THIRTY minutes of class lecturing them on how that was unprofessional and inappropriate.

♡ talks to you at some point during lunch break.

“i’m so sorry about them—they can get really out of hand and they really like to meddle in other people’s business which is an entirely different conversation—” “charlie, it’s fine.” “i-it’s fine? ‘charlie’?” “oh, is that okay? i mean, i thought—” “no, no, no, it’s more than okay. i like it.” JUST KISS ALREADY.

♡ so. much. fucking. tension. YOU’RE BOTH TEETERING ON FRIENDS/MORE THAN FRIENDS AND IT ANNOYS EVERYONE.

♡ i can assure you right now, if you or charlie don’t make a move, your students or even a fucking coworker will do it for you. (enter: teacher! jschlatt and teacher! ted nivison)

#slcmml posts #i didn’t know how to end this #maybe i’ll make a part two #with jschlatt and ted nivison #is this relatable #also not proofread #i made this asap with zero thoughts in my brain to be honest #charlie slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #slmccl #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #ted nivision x reader #ted nivison

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azaharinflames · 18 hours ago

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Hello! I apologize for any awkward expressions, as I'm not American and not very proficient in English.

I wasn't part of the 9-1-1 fandom and watched it whenever I had time. It was a light show for me, but while watching 9-1-1, I hoped that Buck would find a partner to settle down with and be happy. (And I never felt even 1% of romantic feelings between Buck and Eddie.) When Buck broke up with Taylor, I understood the reason but felt regretful. After that, Tommy appeared as a meaningful LI. I sincerely cheered for Buck, seeing him happy.

I had high expectations for S8, but in 801, Tommy appeared briefly, and until 804, no one mentioned Tommy, which I found strange. Then I watched 805 and thought Henren's story was forced, but I liked Buck and Tommy's story. Then I watched 806, and... Buck and Tommy can break up. If it had been for a convincing reason like with Buck and Taylor, I would have been sad but understood. However, I couldn't understand the story in 806 at all, and the characters felt unfamiliar, as if they weren't the characters I knew. And the interviews with Tim and OS gave me trauma after enjoying watching 9-1-1 all this time.

Only Lou understood and empathized with me. I didn't know Lou and didn't remember Tommy from S2. I supported Buck and Tommy solely because Buck was happy... Especially OS's interview made me feel like Buck and Tommy were ignored as if they didn't exist. I don't usually have expectations for actors, but I was really disappointed. So, even though I subscribed to Disney+ annually because of 9-1-1, I no longer watch 9-1-1. I know that my not watching won't change anything. And I know that Tim doesn't have the ability to create good, creative stories. Knowing that Buck will just keep running in the same hamster wheel, I really lost expectations for Buck. Of course, knowing that other 9-1-1 characters besides Buck will also run in slightly different hamster wheels without development, I lost interest in the show itself.

Furthermore, I was honestly disappointed with the production team and the broadcasting company for not thinking of protecting the actor who was insulted and attacked in all sorts of ways just because they were Buck's LI. In the country where I live, if such a situation occurred, there would have been an official message from the broadcasting company and production team to stop the attacks and hatred.

I'm sorry for sending such a negative and pessimistic message. I wanted to confide in someone. Even if Tommy doesn't appear again, I plan to continue enjoying BuckTommy content on Tumblr and AO3, but I really miss the time when I was looking forward to and waiting for S8.

Hi, Nonnie! Sorry for taking a bit, physical therapy is kicking my ass rn lmao (kids do not tear your meniscus)

Okay by points. First of all - your English was perfect, don’t sweat it. English is my third language so Iunderstand where you come from, but you’re good!! Now:

you🤝me with this whole post. You were on my mind fr because I do share all of your thoughts.

Perhaps confession time: I liked Taylor! I ultimately understood why it wouldn’t work between Buck and her, but I liked her and I thought they were really cute. I was sad to see her go (although I’m glad by leaving we were able to eventually get Tommy)

Season 8 is the perfect illustration of something I’ve been thinking about 911 for a while - it is the land of missed potential. I’ve gone about it a few times so I won’t go over it again, but Season 8 is the perfect example of having lots they could do yet refusing to attempt to do it.

Your point on the break up is 100%. I would’ve actually understood and accepted it if it made sense in a larger scale, or if we had been introduced to it better. As it is, you do understand Tommy’s motives, but only if you look at the episode. Meaning: everyone acted so out of character during 806, it seemed like a different show. Therefore the break up (to me) does not make sense in a broader, more general view.

Your point on interviews: yeah I get it, sadly. The interviews left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth, because it did seem like Lou was the only one who truly cared for the couple and its fans. And for everyone who had been harassed for months for liking them, the nonchalant attitude of nearly everyone felt cruel and hurtful. It’s more than normal that many people felt like stop watching the show after it (me included). It does seem like OS has started to realize how big Bucktommy actually was and how liked they still are. So, progress? But it feels too little too late. Idk.

I also understand it does feel bad to see how they’ve ignored the bad treatment LFJr has received. Ofc we lack a lot of context (meaning: perhaps Lou himself asked them to ignore it, perhaps he did have a lot of support BTS), but the fact is that they let a group of deranged ‘fans’ bully and threaten an actor, and did nothing. No, instead it very much felt like those fans were being rewarded. It’s normal for us to not want to support that. I know I feel uncomfy with the idea of doing so.

We are lucky (infinitely lucky) that the Bucktommy fandom is filled with truly lovely and amazing people - people that are lovely to read, discuss with, and enjoy their art from!! If 911 doesn’t got my back, I know the BT fandom does ♥️

I hope you can continue to enjoy fandom life, anon! Ultimately they cannot take away what we enjoy!

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving opinions and confessions! And if you do not want them publish, please say so in your message 🥰 it’s cool with me, but I do need to know!

Take care <3

#bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #911 discourse #anti buddie #just in case #lou ferrigno jr #anon ❣️

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smgsyndicate · 3 days ago

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Some Things Lost

Rain Ghoul Centric Amnesia Fic

Featuring Poly Ghouls Omega, Aether, Dewdrop, Mountain, and Rain

Before Phantom era

Small warnings for medical talk + amnesia + GAYYY + mentions an IV like . Once lmao

It's eyes opened in a flash, pupils dilating to accommodate the blinding white of the walls surrounding it. It - .. no, he couldn't stop a hiss of pain from slipping through his teeth, arms weak and shaking as they struggle to support his weight as he sits up. Cerulean eyes squeeze shut, trying to block out the light and the mounting headache seemingly caused by them.

"No- no- hey, slow down there. You're going to hurt yourself more." A soothing voice to his right said. The eyes opened again, body relaxing once they took in the space that's now dimly lit. He looked over to who was speaking, a tall and built quintessence ghoul, worriedly looking at him as if he would fade away in a moments notice. The being tilted his head, not sure what's quite going on. Unintelligently, he mumbles a small pained, "ow.."

The quint tries to fight down a chuckle but ultimately fails, a small but genuine smile gracing his features. It thinks the ghoul's smile is pretty. It suits him. He blinks, focusing back in as the bigger ghoul... Is he a ghoul too? Is he even a he? .. They blink . Again . Eyes focusing once again on the quint. "Rain, come on... That's it, there you go. Stay present. Stay here with me, okay?"

It lets out a small sound of confusion, head tilting. "Rain? It's raining? .. I like the rain I think ... But I'm definitely not moving. My head hurts." They mumble, hand moving to try and touch their head. The ghoul looks more worried than before, gently catching his hand and moving it away from his head. "No- no Rain, you can't touch that. Your bandages need to stay on for at least another day... Do you know who I am?"

'Rain' takes the moment to really study the other's features. A strong and large build, but not particularly muscular. Something tells him the other is very comfortable to lay on and is a great source of warmth, but when he tries to chase the train of thought, he winces in pain as his headache stabs back in defiance. A name draws blank in his mind, nothing familiar.

It slowly shakes it's head no, looking down in shame. It's eyes widen at the sight of plain white sheets and something sticking out of its arm. The smell of chemical is more distinct and it can identify the annoying insistent beeping of some machine. They look at there arm, seeing it connected through an IV to some sort of fluid.

The IV starts to feel itchy, so they try and pull it out only for the quintessence ghoul to stop them with a panicked noise. "Okay ... I think you have some sort of amnesia... But it's hard to tell what kind at this very moment, so I .." He frowns, sighing with an emotional shake in his voice. "We're going to take care of you Rain. We will help you relearn and hopefully get your memories back. You ... You were in a bad accident, but you're going to be okay. It's.. it's going to be okay."

They feel bad, a hesitant and remorseful expression on their face as if they want to ask a question. The other ghoul fights back their own emotions, trying to appear put together. "What do you want to ask?" It feels something on their head lower in embarrassment and they meekly ask, "Am.. I Rain?"

If it thought things couldn't feel worse, it was just proven wrong. The heart shattering expression on the other's face made it backpedal on its words. "Oh- I uhm. I was just joking! I ..." They fumbled over their words, trying to figure out how to make it better. The quint just took their hands in his, shaking his head silently to request them to stop speaking. "No, it's okay. You don't need to lie. If anything, I need you to tell the truth. .. Let's do quick introductions then, how about that?"

It nodded, hoping this ghoul could explain more about what's happening and why they're in the infirmary wing instead of their room. They hiss, trying to grip at their head as a stabbing pain starts up again. How did they know this was an infirmary and not a hospital? They have a room here? The quintessence ghoul quickly moves their hand away from their head, making gentle shushing sounds and soothing coos.

"Shh.. hey... It's okay.. it's okay... Don't try and force yourself to remember... It'll make it worse.." The other says apologetically. It makes their head hurt more. Why is he sorry? "Alright, I'll go first. My name is Aether, and I'm a quintessence ghoul. We are in a band together, which I play rhythm guitar for. I like the colour purple and astronomy. Your turn, if you're comfortable?" The ghoul nods slightly, 'Aether's' encouraging and hopeful tone spurring them on.

"My name is .. Rain ... And I . I'm in a band. I like the colour azure.. and ... My favourite song is Con Clavi?" Rain says with hesitation. Aether's proud and happy smile makes his tail wag, glad to know that he made the other happy. "Yes! Good job, Rain! You're also a water ghoul and you also play bass! Does that sound familiar?" The bigger ghoul's tail wags a bit as well, the basic memory inclining that it's not all memories, just sporadically missing pieces.

Rain shrugs with a small nod. "I guess? I don't know.." He mumbles self consciously, hands finding their way to the thin white sheets and rubbing them between his fingers anxiously. Aether's eyes soften when he catches the movement, tone gentler than before when he speaks. "It's alright. We will help you. It's going to be alright."

The whole situation feels like reliving a memory for Aether, having been the main one to guide Rain through the confusing life on Earth after his initial summoning. He sees himself and his role in the pack as a protector and a caretaker, happy to be that for his fellow ghouls that he loves and cares for so much. Right now, he sees that timid but oh so fierce water ghoul that once stood trembling but claws readied in middle of the summoning circle.

He struggles to see the confident but subdued personality he's come to grow used to as Rain got more comfortable being in this strange moral realm. Still, Aether manages a smile. "I'll leave you to rest then, but I'll be nearby. Call me, or press that button if you need anything, alright?" Rain looks thoughtful before nodding, honestly just thankful to have a moment to himself to try and process everything he's just been told.

As Aether goes to move away he hesitates before pushing a stray hair from Rain's bangs out of his face, kissing him lightly on the temple before stepping away with a longing and sorrowful expression. He exits the room, closing the door and pausing there before his breathing hitches and the first wave of tears roll down his cheeks.

The quintessence ghoul wipes them away with his arm angrily, upset at himself for mourning someone who can still be saved. Rain's not... Gone.. He's just... ... Aether's breathing stutters and he lets his weight rest against the door, slowly sliding to the floor with silent sobs. His water ghoul is still there, he just has to help him remember... But it's so.. painful watching someone revert to a husk of their former self.

Omega, one of the older quintessence ghouls in the ministry, was doing his rounds in the infirmary. He had heard about the situation with Rain and his injuries but hadn't learned the full extent. He went to check up on the newest water ghoul, eyes widening in alarm upon finding the crying quint. He rushes over, dropping to his knees next to Aether, quickly wrapping the smaller ghoul in a hug.

The position was awkward and definitely not super comfortable, but it was comforting and that's enough. Aether's silent cries became ugly sobs, crying into his mentor's chest while Omega tried to calm him down, running his fingers through his hair and lacing his touch with quintessence.

The ex-guitarist's mind raced with probabilities and statistics. The damage couldn't have been so severe as to kill Rain, could it? But the normally put-together quint in his arms suggested otherwise. "What's going on, nova?" He asked softly, knowing he needed the space to vent. Aether finally seemed to catch his breath, sniffling and using the heel of his palm to wipe the tears from his eyes.

New ones grew back in the old one's place, but he didn't seem to care. "Not... Not here." He whispered, voice breaking with the flood of emotions. Omega just nodded gently, helping the other to his feet. The rhythm ghouls make their way to the small office tucked away in the corner of the infirmary wing.

Aether lets himself fall into the chair, fighting back the tears again so he can explain to Omega what's going on. He takes a deep breath and steels himself, preparing to elaborate. "As you may know, better than anyone, some people in the clergy weren't so happy with Copia becoming Papa..." Omega winces, lips twitching into a frown as he remembers the gruesome dethroning of his Papa.

Aether brushes his tail against Omega's leg apologetically, a silent understanding lingering between them for a few moments. "There was a ... A trap. Set up for Copia. But Rain..." Aether closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the chair, hands gripping the arm rests as he tries to think of his next words. "Rain took the hit instead." He lets out a breath, a small whine slipping out alongside it. "No one knows if it was on purpose or not. He's, thankfully, going to be okay but.. his memory is all messed up and now there's a whole investigation going on, trying to figure out who's trying to hurt Papa and-"

Omega cuts him off with a hug, one that Aether easily leans into. His shoulders shake with the weight of his cries as he lets Omega comfort him again in such a short amount of time. "I'm sorry-" The older quint cuts him off quickly.

"Don't be. You have nothing to apologize for. Grieving for what you've lost does not make you weak, as long as you remember to cherish what you currently have. Dead flowers cause the moon to weep, but it's the new rain mixed with the compost that allows the new flora to flourish, in turn feeding the fauna. Everything will work out just fine, starlight."

Aether can't fight a smile from forming on his face, a wet laugh leaving him. "Where did all that just come from?" Omega stammers for a moment, flustered a bit but laughin along with him. "I thought it was a good metaphor! I thought I did great!" He says defensively, but his tone is so light and the large smile tells Aether he wasn't actually offended.

"It was. You did great, Megs." Aether says genuinely, vulnerability slipping into his tone as the laughter subsides. Aether gently holds Omega's face in his hands, gently pulling him closer for a quick kiss. "Thank you... I needed to hear that I think." Omega flushes, always shy under affection. "Uh.. yeah... No problem..."

The shy behaviour from his mentor is enough to lift the rhythm guitarist's spirits again. "I could use a second opinion, if you have a moment? I'm suspecting some retrograde amnesia, but I haven't tested if he remembers our conversation from earlier. He had difficulties remembering things about himself and me. He even said his favourite song was Con Clavi Con Dio! Can you believe it?" He said with a slight edge of hysteria in his voice.

Omega can't help the small chuckle at Aether's exasperation at the favourite song choice, but is mentally revising all the medical knowledge he has aqquired. While the exasperation is mostly for show, it was worrying to hear since anyone who had been around the bassist long enough knew that his favourite song was by far Prime Mover.

On one of his very few interactions alone with the quiet ghoul, he had been witness to a long winded explanation on why the bass line in particular was one of his favourites to play and how the drum track lined up in such a way that it was fun to perform as well. It's one of his favourite memories he has of the water ghoul, having thoroughly enjoyed that conversation.

"Well, let me see the patient." Omega says in his best professional voice, cracking a smile when Aether laughs at him. The closer they get to Rain's room, the more Aether's tail lowers with anxiety. Omega intertwines his tail with Aether's, pressing a kiss to his cheek in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. When they're outside the door, they can hear voices from inside. Aether's eyebrows furrow as he opens the door, eyes wide in surprise as he sees Mountain speaking to a clearly confused and distraught Rain.

"And you're so stupid for that. I mean, honestly! Taking a hit like that? You're lucky I wasn't there or that sibling of sin would've been dead five times over, and then some. Papa should have body guards anyways! Why did you take the hit? Or, did they sneak up on you? How! You're a ghoul! A damn smart one too! You're luck you're so pretty or else I'd ... I'm not sure, but stop worrying me so much I-" Aether clears his throat, hand resting on the taller ghoul's shoulder.

Mountain growls at Aether before it dies off in his throat as he sees the serious look on the normally joyful quint. The guitarist moves away from Mountain, heading over to the bed where Rain still sits, looking confused and slightly scared. "Hey, Rain. Remember me?" The bassist nods, a small but nervous smile on his face. "Y. Yeah... Uhm.. Whats going on?" He says sheepishly, eyeing the tall drummer with caution.

The Earth ghoul has the right to look offended, going to retort playfully as he normally would, but Omega shakes his head discouragingly at him, mouthing for him to keep quiet for now. Aether sits on the chair next to the bed, humming as he thinks of where to start. "Well.. this is Mountain, say hello Mountain." The drummer looks on in quiet confusion before saying a quiet greeting.

Aether smiles encouragingly at that, chuckling slightly at Rain's shy wave. "And my name is Omega." The older quint introduces, nodding in a respectful way as a greeting. Rain nods at that. "I know." Aether blinks in surprise. "You remember Omega?" Rain looks at Aether in confusion. "Of course! He taught Dew bass, remember? Then Dew taught me." He said confidently, as if Aether was the one misremembering things.

While it's true that Omega taught Dewdrop and then Dew taught Rain, it didn't make sense why he would remember Dew and Omega but not Mountain and Aether. Mountain's eyes widen as he realizes the situation. "He.. Can't remember everything?" Omega nods solemnly, moving to hold the Earth ghoul's hand comfortingly. "Not quite. But we're trying to fix it... Though that doesn't explain why he knows me but not you two."

Rain looks between the ghouls, staring at their joined hands. He feels a sting of emotion, something akin to anger or... Jealousy? He grips his head, hissing as his headache flares. Aether gently soothes him into laying down again, trying to ease the pain with traces of his element. "It's alright, like I said, don't push yourself too hard. We don't want you to permanently damage your brain."

The water ghoul's eyes widen. "I can do that?" He asks softly, voice laced with real fear. Aether curses under his breath, quickly shaking his head. "No! No, you can't. I just.. I was trying to get you to calm down." He says rushedly. Rain relaxes marginally at that, but still bites at his lip anxiously. "Now to figure out what's going on with your memory patterns.."

"I might have an idea." Mountain suggests. Aether looks at the drummer with a look of confusion. The quint has way more medical knowledge than the other, there's no way he could figure it out but Rather couldn't. "Well... Go on then." Omega encourages, intrigued.

"He doesn't remember me or Aether, but he remembers you and Dew, right?" The other ghouls nod in agreement, not sure where this is leading. "But he can form new memories and is just struggling with the past.." He continues. Aether's gets impatient, anxiety mounting. "Please just get to the point."

Mountain puts his hand up defensively, the other still laced with Omega's. "Okay, okay.." He takes a breath. "I could be wrong, but he might only remember the older era ghouls." Aether looks at him with a deadpan expression. Mountain is quick to elaborate. "He said he remembers Dew, but that doesn't mean he knows him after the element change... Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Omega's eyes widen as he processes the new information, running over the idea in his mind. "He knows Dew but only as a water ghoul, when me and him were in the band together. That's why he mentioned learning bass from him, because the water element is linked to the instrument!" Mountain nods in agreement. "We could call for Dew and test that theory-" "No."

Mountain looks over at Aether in confusion. "Wha-" "I said no." Aether's fist clenches as he takes a breath to calm down. "I love Dew, but we remember how he was to Rain after the change." Omega frowns, speaking up on his own thoughts. "Aren't they close now?" Rain looks on, lost as he tried to follow the conversation about him as if he's not right there. "Yes but.. what if Rain just remembers him when he was an asshole? I can't subject him to that right now! He's much too fragile in this state and-"

Rain clears his throat, the sound quieter than he wished for it to be, but he supposes it's fine since it made the quint pause. "I'm able to think for myself, you know. I don't know how you know me but if Dew is there, I'd like to talk to him. He was the best teacher I could ever ask for- ... No offence, Megalodon." He says sheepishly, using the old nickname for Omega in hopes it wouldn't upset the other rhythm guitarist.

Omega frowns slightly at the meek behaviour, not used to the shy Rain. He tries a placating smile, hoping to ease Rain's anxiety. "None taken." He says truthfully, not minding in the slightest.

The way Rain talks about Omega and Dew makes Aether believe his memories must be somewhere right before the element change, since Dew was still a water ghoul when teaching Rain bass. It was only after the change where Dew felt aggression towards the newer summon, redirecting the pain to anger.

Aether sighs, resting his head in his hands and closing his eyes to steady his thoughts. Would it be better to try and jog his memory or try and avoid it? The rhythm guitarist hasn't dealt with any amnesia or brain trauma patients, the territory unfamiliar and terrifying. Especially since it's someone so close to him.

However, Rain did have a point. Even if Aether wanted to keep Dew away, Rain is still in charge of his own life and his physical health doesn't seem to be at risk by allowing him to see the ex-bassist. With a reluctant frown, he texts Dew that Rain is awake and wants to see him. The quint makes sure to specifically warn Dew that the injured water ghoul may not have any recent memories of him, and may not even be aware of the element transition.

The read receipt pops up, showing that the fire ghoul is either reading the text or has already read it. The typing bubbles pop up for a few moments before disappearing and reappearing again. Aether's grip on the phone is tight and nervous, Omega coming over to gently run his fingers through the smaller quint's hair reassuringly.

Rain looks to Mountain with a pleading expression. "So.. I can see him?" The earth ghoul nods, moving over to the side of the bed and nudging Aether's foot with his to silently make him move so Mountain can have the chair next to the bed. "Yeah. We're just waiting on him to text back and let us know when he'll be here-" The door is slammed open and Dew pants lightly as if he just ran here. "... Well, I guess he's here now." Mountain says with amusement.

Aether looks at his phone, making sure he didn't miss a text. The typing bubbles never turned into words, making the quint look at Dew in confusion. The fire ghoul waves him off, pushing past him and Omega to get to the bed. He hops onto the end of the mattress, looking at the water ghoul with what seems to be a nonchalant expression, but Omega can see that he's heavily scanning the bassist for injuries and signs of distress

"So, you made it out alive, huh?" Dew says teasingly, trying to guage how Rain is doing based on the response. A flicker of recognition sparks in those cerulean eyes, a real and genuine smile on his face for the first time since Mountain has visited. "Of course I did. I can't die that easily. This is the skin of a killer, Bella!" He says with fake seriousness, a laugh bubbling from his throat before he can stop it.

Mountain's tail wags a little at hearing the cute little squeaks in his packmate's laugh, happy to hear he's feeling better. Even if Rain has no memory of Mountain, the Earth ghoul would rather have the bassist happy and content over anything else in the whole world. Nothing is more important to Mountain than his pack's wellbeing.

Omega looks between Dew and Rain with a confused expression, blinking incredulously. "You.. remember watching Twilight, but not Aether." Rain goes to retort but pauses, brows furrowing in confusion and concentration. "I .. I don't know? It just felt natural.." He mumbles, his joyful demeanor diminishing almost instantly.

Mountain frowns, trying to think of a way to cheer him up again. Dew beats him to it. "Maybe your half of a brain will start working once you get some food in you. Have you eaten yet? I mean, I know I call you fish stick for a reason but you seriously need some meat on your bones or something." Rain huffs and clicks at him with indignation. "Coming from you? That's rich! ... But uhm. Yeah, I'm starving." He says shyly at the end.

Omega grabs Aether's hand and guides him to the door. "I'll get some food started for you guys then, okay? Rain, you should be all clear to go. Just make sure you're with someone so if something happens you have help.. Come on, supernova." He says gently, guiding the emotionally drained quint out of the room with him. Rain makes a displeased cringing face at Omega's words, hissing out what seems to be a mocking impression under his breath. He's clearly displeased about how fragile everyone is treating him.

Dew chuckles and stretches dramatically, resting on top of the water ghoul. "Relax. They just care about you, that's all. They're stupid idiots who don't understand your strength, sure, but they're also incredibly worried about you... Or somethin, I dunno." He says genuinely for a moment before throwing back on his causal persona. Mountain rolls his eyes, watching as the fire ghoul slowly applies more pressure by laying on top of the now squirming water ghoul who pushes weakly at him with laughter.

The drummer scruffs the back of Dew's shirt, hauling him off the giggling bassist. "Thanks, M!" He chirps out happily, tail wagging as he taunts the restrained guitarist. "Watch yourself, Rain. I'm planning my revenge." Dewdrop growls out, but his tail wags playfully just as much. He squirms more until Mountain puts him down. "Behave." The taller ghoul says with a teasing tone.

Mountain's eyes dart over to Rain as the bassist tries to move off the bed. He gently moves Dew out of the way, helping the injured ghoul to his feet and carefully removing the IV for him. He double checks that Rain is alright and can stand on his own, before taking a step back. .. he then steps forward again and triple checks, his worry for his packmate overtaking his logic. "Dude, he's fine. See?" The fire ghoul throws a pillow at Rain, watching as the bassist blinks in shock for a moment before trying to lunge at the other.

The Earth ghoul sighs, but it's just for show. He smiles as he quietly asks Rain if he can carry him, the water ghoul looking at him hesitantly before nodding and wrapping his arms around the drummer's neck as he's picked up. Dew takes the time to be a little nuisance, poking at Rain until Mountain glares at him with enough of a threat to make him back off with a self satisfied smirk.

"Don't worry, dragonfly. No one will hurt you when I'm here."

Ch.2 :

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