#but at a certain point i need to think about my own survival first no

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

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

[tradingjackbs]

It is annoying being told I need to get over the domestic violence committed against me and forgive the person who did it

Like I get she's my sister but I already did that once and all that happened was she fuckin tried it again later like ?????? I'm learning my lesson instead of risking it for the 3rd fuckin time. Goddamn I give her enough chances and eventually she is going to fucking kill me, and then what???

[ennn]

On Writing Rio Vidal

So @trickofthelights did a great post on things to take note of when writing Agatha Harkness in fic and I figured I could do one for my girl if some folk are interested.

Now I do see that getting a handle on Rio can be tricky because she only has so much screentime and every time she pops up we see a different side to her character. That said, here's some fundamentals I see for portraying Rio:

Disclaimer: I'm not a cop. Fic writing is for fun. This is entirely about canon-consistency, which can also apply to AUs. If you want to write an original romance novel inspired more by the actors than their AAA characters, hey you do you.

Rio is powerful and knows it

Canonical Rio literally embodies power. She's Death and even gods die. She is one of the most powerful entities in the universe and she knows it. It's essentially who she is. Power is part of her being.

In non-magic AUs where Rio is human, the show literally serves up Special Agent Rio Vidal as a handy reference point to work with. She's an FBI agent with the power of a higher authority, amazing at her job, and she owns it.

I find it quite jarring when AU fics have Rio set up as someone needing saving, or someone seriously lacking in confidence. Even if you're doing a high school or coffeeshop AU, Rio Vidal needs to know she's hot shit in some domain. She doesn't need to have her life together but you gotta have that sense of power and self-assurance somewhere in her life.

Because when it comes to writing canon-consistent Agatha/Rio, this is fundamental to Agatha's attraction to Rio because Agatha is attracted to power.

Like yes, I know it's Aubrey Plaza but it is essentially Rio's power that compels Agatha to give her a second look. Canonically, it's Rio's inability to die that allows them to have a relationship. Not beauty, not a winning personality. They're able to match each other’s energy, to clash and survive each other.

Rio is lawful first, chaotic second

An all-powerful character who can do anything is pretty boring, which is why when it comes to Rio "with great power comes great responsibility" but in her case it's literal and on a cosmic level. Canonically Rio's power is limited by certain rules she has to follow.

The whole tragedy at the crux of Rio as a character is that her identity is her purpose is her function is her duty is her job. As unpredictable as she seems, Rio literally describes herself as "the natural order of all things".

It's interesting that in the Zoom call interview Plaza mentions Puck when describing how Rio acts in the show because I find the fey a helpful reference when framing Rio as a character. Yes, Rio can cause lots of chaos but she has very specific rules she's obligated to follow. Everything beyond that however is fair game.

In non-magic AUs, this doesn't have to mean Rio has a literal job or profession that she values highly (although it can). It could be a personal mission, a set of principles, a duty to certain people or an organisation. Regardless there should be a method to Rio's madness.

And when it comes to writing canon-consistent Agatha/Rio, this is a delightful contrast because Agatha's such a rule-breaker ("So you broke the rules, big deal!") and a cheater ("You can't cheat Agatha / Says who!").

There are sharp edges to Rio's character

I sometimes joke that in AU fics the best way to help ensure canon-consistency is to give Rio a knife. It's funny because it's kinda true?

There is a darkness to Rio as a character that if ignored, I think does a disservice to her. Canonically, she's the balance of life and death, the cycle of decay and rebirth, the ugly and beautiful, violent and soft.

I think very romantic or domestic AUs do come with the risk of making Rio too soft, too patient, too kind. Which is not to say she can't be those things—you could argue that anyone who chooses to put up with Agatha Harkness certainly has those qualities in no small amount—but it's the contrast that I think makes Rio interesting as a character.

Consider Rio's capacity for love contrasted with her viciousness, her patience with her pettiness, her restraint with her rage.

There's probably more where this came from, but these ones seem to the main ones that stick out. And look, I'm a fan and I get that it's tempting to pull from the other roles Plaza has played, and we only see so much of Rio (I mean, consider how much of Agatha we got to see from Wandavision before AAA) and AUs are meant to be a playground—but there does come a point where a character just doesn't seem like Rio Vidal.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Spoiled Brat Child Reader | Platonic Yandere Twisted Wonderland

“You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mom!”

It’s alarming for a child to be brought to a world completely different from their own

It’s just as alarming when that child is good at getting what they want

“Aren’t I generous–”

“This is it? What are you some poor old featherduster? Is this really all you can do for the child you practically abducted with your weirdo mirror ceremony un-believable.”

You fit right in at NRC

Stomping your foot and pointing your little gloved fingers 

You have way too much ease when it comes to confronting your seniors

Already surviving and rumored to have started Overeblots

Gathering rows of thralls friends that take it upon themselves to be the big brothers you need try and instill some disciplines

And oddly enough the ones to do it first surprisingly  are those at Scarabia

“Oh (Y/n)! Look at you in your little Scarabia clothes, it looks so good on you.”

“Hmph no it doesn’t I look poor. I wanna wear something else!”

“But you do look cute, promise!”

“I don’t care! Something else!”

“...(Y/n)...”

“Shut up you shouldn’t get to talk to me, servant!”

“(Y/N)!? Apologize!”

It’s really bad at first when rotations have you staying with them

Kalim like so many others is enamored by your cuteness and is usually at your whim

But the minute you take it too far with Jamil especially after his Overblot

Before the Overblot Jamil would just try to hypnotize you or play into your bossy attitude

He’s already watching an overgrown child so why not bratty one too

After his overblot though the guilt from endangering little you has him oddly quiet when you take your jabs at him too far

It’s Kalim who steps up

Doing something he didn’t even do when Jamil had plots to take over the dorm

Get Mad

“(Y/N) THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY! JAMIL DOES SO MUCH FOR YOU AND YOU ARE BEING SO UNGRATEFUL! YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE NOW.”

The dorm is absolutely quiet

As you nervously shuffle your feet

The thing about being bratty and spoiled is that you almost never get corrected 

Like ever 

So when one of your most avid spoilers turns around to lay down the law

It’s surprising

So surprising you just might cry

“I….I….I…Waaahhahhhhh!!! I’sorry Jamil! Sorry! Sorry! I love you still! Sorry don’t be mad at me!”

Crying into Jamil’s jacket for an hour or two before you’re sleeping 

Kalim is silently crying to himself as he’s certain you’ll never smile at him again

But he doesn’t plan to apologize either he doesn’t feel sorry for defending Jamil

He just hopes he can stand his ground

Jamil on the other hand is beyond amused

It doesn’t really hurt him when a child who stomps and whines about trivial things starts making fun of him

Even having just survived his Overblot he knows it’s nothing but hot air 

He already knows you like him because despite being a 'servant' you’ll follow him around to tell him about something silly Grim did

But the way Kalim actually spoke some sense into you suprises him a lot

He was just going to quickly hypnotize you to listen when he glared at you 

But this was so much better

It ended with you clinging to him promising you’ll behave and that you are grateful for him

“I really really really am, Jamil!”

“I know.”

“I really really really really am!”

“I know Habibi, sleep please.”

“Okay….only if you stay with me though.”

Come next morning you’ll shyly greet Kalim hiding behind Grim or Jamil 

Until its time for you to draw something for him while you sit a little bit closer

“Here…”

“Oh uh thank you.”

“It’s…a picture of us…Me and carpet drew it to uh…apologize for misbehaving. Do you…forgive me?”

“......”

“Kalim?”

“Waahaahha! Oh (Y/n) you’re a sweet angel yes I do!”

Kalim’s unbelievably happy and Jamil is so so prideful 

He is the one taking you hand-in-hand while you apologize for some of the more heinous things you’ve said or done

“I–er–well I…”

“Out with it, (Y/n).”

“O..okay. I’m sorry Ruggie for calling you poor.”

“Wow I didn’t think you’d ever do something like that. Are you sick?”

“I actually really like dandelions too…I tried one after I saw you trying it.”

“....(Y/n)! If you don’t mind being poor you can come home with me next break.”

“Really–”

“Ah-ah no you don’t.”

For this Crowely suddenly is much more willing to give the dorm a bit more leeway when it comes to taking care of you

But if the other dorms have anything to say about it that won’t be the case for long

[alyakthedorklord]

Omg literally it would be SO cool if you wrote the rest of the playboy bruce trying to kiss the justice league without them realizing it (I know you said figure it out but the way you wrote it was so good and funn I would love it if you gave maybe a couple of scenarios)

Lmao honestly executive dysfunction is kicking my ASS rn and it was intended as a prompt. I will try tho, definitely taking inspiration from the others who responded to the post because I love them.

If you haven’t, go check out the notes on the OG Post above! @britcision, @ivywing, and @help-i-need-a-cool-username all had amazing additions and @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego wrote a fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48325771

As did @scrapcheck, still in progress

And Devilhorn!

Anyways LONG post under the cut

Hal Jordan

Hal is first to prove a POINT, as @britcision decided. Also because the bastard made it waaaay too easy. Remember- Hal was Joking. He genuinely thinks Batman isn’t going to try, because he’s way too straight-laced boring.

So when he’s at a bar in Coast City, and he sees this absolutely ravishing man lounging casually against the wall, bar lighting making him practically glow (he CALCULATED that) subtle makeup making his bright blue eyes pop as he looks Hal up and down… Well. Hal makes the first move.

Hal: “All on your own, handsome?”

Bruce, with “Mastermind” by Taylor Swift playing in his head, smiling sweetly at Hal: “Care to change that?”

They start talking. Hal doesn’t recognize Bruce Wayne at ALL (canonically he does not know who Bruce Wayne is, a point brought up by @help-i-need-a-cool-username) so all he knows is Bruce is a single father who works at a company he inherited from his parents, which is just (brucie voice) “so much less interesting than a test pilot!”

Bruce, grimacing internally but wrapped around Hal’s arm with the awed and interested eyes in full effect: “you have such a nice voice, tell me more about planes…”

He KNOWS what a fuselage is, thank you, Jordan. Whatever. He gets to gush about his kids, when its his turn to talk, good enough tradeoff. He can survive Hal Jordan’s bad pick up lines and pretend he’s into them. At a certain point Bruce breaks and kisses him just to shut him up. One down.

Diana Prince

I looked it up- kissing in Ancient Greece wasn’t always considered romantic, but also a greeting between two similarly-ranked people. Therefore, I think Diana would be pretty chill with kissing and honestly an easy target at a gala if Bruce plays respectful/clumsy/earnest himbo starstruck with the tall pretty woman, just a peck would make him the happiest man alive. But I wanna go a little more in depth.

Now, I’ve seen Flash and Martian Manhunter save Bruce and/or his kids and Bruce lays one on them, but honestly I think it would work well with Diana too, because she loves kids. Dick and/or Jason (whichever you want to imagine, I want them to team up screw canon) are WAY to excited for this, they’ve got a little script and everything.

WonderWoman, a kid in each arm, delivering them back to their tearful guardian: “Here we are, Mr. Wayne. Whole and healthy.”

Dick, playing into his role eagerly: “Oh my gosh, Bruce! Bruce we got saved by a princess! It’s like a fairytale! Except, you know, the princess is the hero this time, which is so freaking cool!”

Bruce, tears of gratitude rolling down his face (and he knows how to still look perfect while crying, its a skill): “I’m just glad the two of you are safe, Chum.”

Jason, big baby blues in full effect, absolutely asked Wonder Woman to be his mom earlier (to set groundwork, no other reason): “You know, usually the princess and the hero gets a kiss at the end of a fairytale, Bruce. But this princess is both. So how will she get a reward?”

Still choked up with relieved tears and now laughter, Bruce looks up at Diana and smiles: “Well, if the Princess wants a reward… then I would be a fool to refuse.”

Bruce kisses her on the lips, Dick and Jason both kiss her cheeks, Diana leaves charmed and amused by the sweet family. Such a good father, humoring his children and thier little fascination with her, so very respectful…

Two down.

J’ohn Jones

Okay, martians are telepathic. So this goes one of two ways, at some sort of charity or something-

Option 1, Batman is a realist: the charity event is a masquerade, and he wanders over to where MM is while thinking “it would be so funny, give me this.” As loudly as he can. And Martian Manhunter, who appreciates the audacity, gives him a kiss. (I don’t like this one because it technically breaks the rules of the bet, bc MM knows it’s Batman, but eh)

Option 2, Batman is a different breed: he manages to up the ante with his Himbo Persona. Creating a “slippery void” mental facade that blocks of his real thoughts and makes him read as really just that stupid. This would require functioning with two trains of thought at once, and making sure that the Martian can only read the surface level, “oh, this one is pretty” “I really wouldn’t mind kissing him” and other such decoy thoughts, instead of “target is approaching, signs of interest present despite this not being his natural form-“

Bruce also researches and copies Martian courting styles and copies them “by chance,” catching MM’s attention. (He offers him Oreos)

Martian Manhunter: “this man… he is so empty headed and yet clearly kind and willing. I would not take him for a life partner, but for some simple fun as he seems to desire…”

(Edit: Maybe, if B is confident enough, he lets through his loneliness. Missing his parents, wanting affection, an ache so strong it’s like a physical wound. J’onn feels the same ache for his lost family, and decides to try this human’s strategy to fill that void. Either way…)

Batman 3, League 0

Barry Allen

I’m strangely blank when it comes to the Flash let me just spitball and let it snowball

As I said above, people have had him save Bruce, had Bruce seduce him at his workplace while taking a tour, I even saw @help-i-need-a-cool-username have Dick set up a petition for Bruce to kiss the Flash. (An idea that I personally think would also go really well with Superman lmao.)

Anyways, I think it would be funny for Bruce to take it slow with Barry. For the irony of it all. Because Batman is doing this to prove a POINT. So he’s in central city, spots Barry coming his way, and “accidentally” slips right into his arms. Ooh, or covered in coffee, like a wealth disparity drama base script, and Barry’s like “omg i am so sorry let me pay you back.” And bruce is all “this shirt costs (stupid amount of money)”

Barry: (fear)

Bruce, rolling with it rn: “yes, it is horrendous, isn’t it? Hows this- I’m in central city for a day. You can pay me back by showing me around?”

He then proceeds to string barry along on an honest to god DATE for shits and giggles. They go clothes shopping, they go to restaurants, Bruce pays for a big meal bc this is after a fight or something and Barry got hurt, his speedster comrade needs to EAT, damnit.

After all this, he gives a cheeky smile and lightly smooches Barry. “Thanks for the fun day, Mr. Allen.”

Barry, bright red and goo brained: “hah- mmhmm. Yeah…”

Batman 4, League 0

Oliver Queen

This one… Oliver is on guard. He’s twitchy and suspicious, turning down men flirting with him, people are starting to notice. But Bruce? Bruce just walks up at a party while “tipsy” and lays one on him. Straight up. He wants to show just how EASY it is. Because Oliver doesn't even register it. He just laughs and goes: “Hey Brucie! Miss me?”

Batman 5, League 0

Dinah Lance

Of course, immediately after above, he turns and pouts at canary.

Bruce: “Dinah darling, you are a saint, I don’t know how you put up with the mess he’s got on his face. He was so much nicer to kiss when we were in (fancy private school name drop) together and didn’t have all this nonsense.”

Dinah, laughing at Ollie’s offended noises: “Oh, I don’t mind it. He’s a good kisser.”

Bruce: “Of course he is, I taught him. Care to compare?”

Dinah: “Don’t mind if I do.”

Batman 6, league 0

Clark Kent

For Clark, Bruce is originally talking to Lois before he turns his eyes on a quiet Clark and croons: “So, Miss Lane, does this lovely specimen have his own questions, or is he arm candy? And if he’s the latter, can I either tempt him off you, or secure an invitation?”

Lois, an excellent friend who will absolutely set Clark up with the hottest bachelor in Gotham: “Well, Mister Wayne, I’ve got all I need. Clark, take a page from my book and honeytrap a good quote out of him, hm?”

With an obnoxious wink, she pats a spluttering Clark on the shoulder, and leaves him with a very smug Batman.

(Bonus Superbat- Clark and Bruce’s conversation is going REALLY WELL and to the point where both of them seem on board with more than a heavy makeout when Bruce puts a hand on Clarks chest.

Bruce: “Stop.”

Clark, freezing immediately: “I’m sorry, did I go too far-?”

Bruce: “No, no. I think I might be though. See, I have all of you now, and I’ve won the bet.”

Clark: “What are you- oh. Oh- HUH?”

Cue sudden and shocked revelation, Clark’s mind going a hundred miles an hour, and then skidding to a stop on- he only did this for the bet. He’s not really interested. He stopped because I went too far-

Bruce: “You only consented to a kiss without knowing my identity. Right now, I’d like to do more, if you’d let me.”

Clark has the dial-up tone ringing in his ears, he has no idea whats going on anymore, the hot billionaire and his reclusive teammate aren’t quite slotting into place, because he wants both but rhey’re so different but they’re the same but-

“Yes.”

Lois doesn’t get Clark back that night and she is delighted.)

Anyways, final results:

Batman: 7

League: 0

Reveal:

Batman talking shit about their secret identities again, Green Lantern is scoffing about it again, says something along the lines of: “You still think you’re sooooo great, huh? Hows the bet going, spooky?” Fully expecting Batman to get huffy with him.

Instead, Batman smirks.

He leans in

And purrs: “So you didn’t notice?”

The League freezes. The implications are dangling over their head. Did he… did he really?

Green Lantern, absolutely terrified: “No. no, there’s no way…”

Batman: “Oh, there absolutely was a way. I’d say you were a good kisser, but honestly? I think it might have been the euphoria of getting you to shut up.”

He turns on the rest of the league, still smirking. “I have kissed every single person who consented at least once in the time since the bet was made. Two of you with tongue. And no one has called me out on it. Now that you know it’s happened, you should be able to figure me out, so whoever can tell me my real name first, wont get thier story used as an example in the brand new “how to avoid honeypots” seminar.”

(If bonus superbat, B shoots Superman a Look and goes “except for you, superman, because I told you my name.” Which just ends up distracting everyone else until they get THAT story)

Diana wins bc she matched up the boys to the robins. Everyone else gets their stories told in excruciating detail. Batman rates them by kissing ability and how obvious he was on his approach. Oliver gets docked points for “texture.” Dinah gets docked points because “i griped about the exact same thing in and out of costume, how did you not notice-“

(Different reveal below)

@chaos-n-kindness @she-went-that-way @geekonaleash @redh00dsbf @howabouticallyou

[ganondoodle]

(OC Lore and design time!)

(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)

i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D

so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;

at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-

Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)

Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries

However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it

only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)

alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)

[kanmom51]

This one is kind of personal and a lot mushy

(And as I'm writing this, a bit of a rant as well)

*Be advised.😅

Been a bit.

Well, I was kind of busy. On one of those 'once in a lifetime' trips you take to celebrate a big one, this one being my 30th wedding anniversary.

And while I was on this trip (and I am sure to share some pics, cause why not, seeing we got some spectacular ones) I got to thinking about Jikook. Because, who doesn't think about Jikook on their 30th anniversary trip, right?

Let's be real for a sec. Who doesn't think about Jikook ALL THE DAMN TIME?

Obsessed much?

Hell yeah!!!😂

Proudly admitting it!!

Look at those two:

Can you seriously blame me?

Nah, but seriously.

I couldn't help but think about who I am, where I've come from, how my partner and myself came to be, our love and respect for each other, how we fought through everything life swings at you and how our love not only survived all of it but seems to have flourished even more. I can honestly say that I love my husband today even more than I did when we got married. It's a different kind of love. A mature love. A love that survived many trials and tribulations. Some you know of when you tie the knot but many more you don't expect.

And thinking of us I couldn't help but think about those two young men and how they met, what brought them together, how they connected, how they have been through so much together, the hardships, the struggles, the amazingly good and the terribly bad, all making their bond even stronger.

There are those that cannot fathom how 2 young beautiful talented men could be in a committed relationship when they have this whole smorgasbord of beautiful people just wanting to lay a hand on them. Everyone wants a piece of them and here they are in a committed relationship with each other? A long term committed relationship? How ever could that be?

When you love someone to the core, which is exactly how those two feel (people can deny it all they want, but it won't change the facts, these two have chosen each other every single time over anything and anyone else), when you get to know that one person and fall deeply in love with them, know their ins and outs, know their flaws and issues, seen them at their best and at their worst. When they are happy or sad, healthy or sick, elated or furious, and find them attractive through and through, still want to be by their side.

No.

Need to be by their side.

Want to be there when they are happy, share their joy, but also be there when they are sad or down and stand by their side to support them through it (even with and despite all those flaws and issues and difficulties that at times can also infuriate you and basically make you want to ring their necks at certain points in time) there is no love (between partners) deeper than that.

I do know, we all should, that what they experienced and how they are living cannot be compared to us regular folk. Their circumstances are such that they have to deal not only with an industry and society that deems them as 'wrong' (that includes a big chunk of their own fandom btw), but also a lifestyle that is nothing like the one we know or have experienced. The hours, the cameras in their faces close to 24/7 (up until their break and hiatus and even prior to that during the pandemic - which btw is one of the reasons people have gone mad at that point given we stopped getting an influx of BTS content for such a long time), growing up and maturing in the limelight, enjoying the fame and exposure at first and then fighting for privacy and 'anonymity' when you realize there is a price to that fame. None of us have experienced that. Yes, we can find the similarities and by extension make conclusions about them, but at the same time we always need to remember that their lives are different than ours and that we cannot always hold them to the same standards of behavior that we are used to in our own lives and relationships.

This is beside the point that every relationship is different. I will just say this. A healthy long term relationship is built on 2 or more (I ain't judging) individuals that stand as their own person and chose to be with the other/s. They don't necessary have to have the exact same interests or likes. What they do need is to love, respect, trust each other and understand that part of that is allowing your significant other to do what they love, even if it means doing it without you. Even if it means doing it with someone else. You all know where I'm getting with this right? Going out with others, travelling with others, drinking with others, spending time with others, choosing to spend time alone without your significant other, none of them diminish from your relationship if indeed it's building blocks are solid. And brace yourselves (well, those that are in long term relationships know this already...), but all of the above actually helps maintain your relationship. Can make it better and stronger.

I've been lurking a little on SM, even while away, only to find that once again, or should I say still (surprise surprise... NOT) there are those that are doubting the bond that these two young men have. It's solos and cultists trying to create an alternative universe in which JK and JM are not close and even distanced (some would love for them to actually hate each other - good luck with that psychos). Or it's once again those insecure 'Jikookers' that seem to need that constant affirmation from a real life queer couple that most certainly will not be giving them that. I keep asking myself why is it that a couple like JM and JK need to constantly prove they are together (all while they actually can't come out and say it due to their circumstances - industry and society they live in), when a heterosexual couple, say Zendaya and Tom, for example, are not expected to? How come a blurry clip (which I still say is fake) released at a very suspicious point in time, together with other obviously edited clips and serious claims of misconduct that are clearly made up and were intended to cause JK harm, have more of an impact on them than years and years of interactions, talk, actions (including just before the clip was released and after it as well)? And now another blurry clip that people are going all crazy over. Like seriously, what is wrong with people? Is the lack of content driven them mad? No drama so we need to create it? Well, thing is that when you are in a healthy committed long term relationship there is not much drama. That's the way it is when you are settled and happy and know who you are and who you love and know that they feel the same about you. Arguments, disagreements, bad days - sure. That's life. But at the end of the day if people want drama they should go watch one on TV.

So, how do I put it to make is as clear as possible?

These insecurities we get from some of the fans, they work like clockwork. Every single time, in the past, when we didn't get much from the two there were these whispers and question marks regarding their relationship. Not even if they are still together, but down to the core of their bond, as to even question if they are close or friends. This phenomenon goes way back.

But since end of 2021 beginning of 2022, when they were on their break and later the hiatus into 2023 it blew up like a full on hydrogen bomb.

This got worse after they were assigned their own 'personal' IG accounts and went on their break.

The misconception by many that these accounts were somehow their private accounts that they use to interact with each other, I can't call it anything other than delusional. Sorry not sorry. And if people did not realize that themselves if only from the lack of posting or interaction with whoever, then we had the members themselves telling us that they regularly interact within their own private chat groups. That photos shared on IG with us have been previously shared with the others in those groups. These IG accounts were created to maintain contact between the members and their fans, knowing that the group is going into hiatus and that they will each be promoting their own individual solo projects. Yes, the group Twitter (X) account could be used for that, but there was an attempt to create a more 'personal' connection between each member and Army. These accounts were work, as simple as that, and them reacting to other members or talking with each other through these accounts was not an indication what so ever to whether they were in touch or not otherwise.

At the time, back in early 2022, when people were reeling over the lack of interaction between the two on their IG accounts I tried to explain that a. not seeing something most definitely does not mean it's not there (something those two made sure to prove time and time again over the past couple of years), and b. that the lack of interaction can actually be an indication to them spending most of their time together, as there is no need to comment on another's post when you are right there to tell them whatever it is you want to tell them to their face. Not to mention, and this part is all me, so take or leave it as you will, but some of said IG posts, well, how do I put it? I guess I just say it as it is... some of these photos posted were either taken by the other or they were right there or really near by when it was taken. There. I said it. In any case, the fact that these were the only two not to interact with each other in front of Army's face, out of the whole group, that, to me, meant they were the ones spending most of the time together.

Oh, and let's just address the whole fanservice stupidity surrounding those two once and for all.

If they were all about fanservice, how is it that since that during the break in 2021-2022 and then during the hiatus and their solo endeavors, we were robbed of said fanservice? Wouldn't you expect that the fanservice couple, the scripted couple, be pushed during each other's promotions? How is it that we have seen during these periods of promotions every single other coupling other than JM and JK. Even JK visiting JM during his rehearsals was heavily edited. How come, if we are being sold a fake bond? No JK being forced to go visit JM when performing at the music shows. No JM being forced to do the same with JK. JM paired with Suga for an add for Busan (? that one was really an odd one for me). When did we see them? So yeah, people can scream fanservice all they want, but deep down inside they know it's a crap claim. I won't even go into JK's lives. There was not one ingenuine bone in his body, and that excitement seeing JM's comments, that coquettish behavior while interacting with him (especially during the bed live, OMG!!!), the reactions to the JM centered content he CHOSE to watch during those lives, none of that is scripted nor acted. It's all JK. All him. And JM's reaction when JK shows up at his documentary viewing live, that little butt wiggle in his chair (reminds me of Bam when happy to see his dad/s, as shown by JK), the face lighting up, the genuine worry on his face talking about JK working hard (during another couple of lives), again, not faked.

So yeah, not fanservice.

I digressed, I think.

Let's get back to 2022 why don't we?

On their break these crazy stories of heartbreak and breakup and hate and suffering and god knows what, only all to be thrown out of the window as soon as we got to see the two together again during the Seoul concerts and then LV. Oh LV. That was a wild ride.

Then BTS went on hiatus and the solo era began. And we were getting less and less ot7 content, and once again the insecurities. These ups and downs (you know, the whole JITB party stories about them not being together - that was countered by the BTB that followed a while after), then Busan concert's high, then 2023's downs and ups and downs and ups and fruck it all, I'm sea sick from this stupidity.

Same exact stories were repeated in 2023!!!

Especially after THE CLIP "which shall not be named" dropped.

SAME EXACT TO THE T STORIES!!!

But again, I digress.

Insecurity regarding the two and their bond (seeing they aren't in the public eye) followed by realization that everything is as it was (if not even better and stronger) once we see them together again. And the reason we don't see them together while on break... wait for it... is because they are a private couple living their everyday life, not for the cameras, not for Army, but for THEMSELVES.

Who would have thought.

And when they are together, as in working together, either filming or shooting or performing, well their bond can't be hidden, as much as they might have to wind it down at times (which is mainly not when they are on stage hyped up on adrenaline, lol), seeing that this is still Kpop, with fandoms that feel ownership over them, not to mention them being a queer couple. You know. All the usual reasons.

This idea people have that these two owe us something. That they constantly have to prove their bond, their connection, their relationship. What utter bull.

Anyway, what a slap in the face (for some a good wake up call, for others a well deserved one) the news of them choosing to enlist together was for so many.

Bottom line is, repeated for the millionth time, that these two young men have shown us time and time again that when push comes to shove they will chose one another!!!

I feel like I'm all over the place here. Came to talk about my trip and ended up talking about fanservice and insecurity and god knows what. I guess it's the jetlag (yeah, let's go with that and blame it on the jetlag).

In any case I will go with my favorite saying as of late:

Why this whole long word vomit, you may ask (or you might not ask, who knows, lol)?

What the hell does this have to do with my trip?

Nothing...?

Probably, lol.

But I am going to try to connect the dots. Even if they did make sense in my mind when I first started writing this post and no longer do...

How about the fact that the two chose to take these trips together?

See how I did that? Connecting the unconnected?

Not even going to ask the egg-chicken question here, as I am quite positive it was always about the trips and the show/content for army was the excuse that allowed them to travel 'for work', and a little bonus of content for army when they are away - not to mention perhaps even an opportunity for a soft outing, who knows.

They wanted to spend this time together before enlistment.

We know of at least 3 trips. Connecticut, Jeju and Japan (the Jeju trip may or may not be part of that 'show').

We are yet to know what exactly this 'show' will be. Will it be an actual show, style BV or ITS? Will it be a Vlog? Will we be getting actual episodes or several minute clips? But one thing for sure. Whatever we get, it will be a drop in a lake of the time they spent together. They went on these trips to be together. They shot this 'show' to allow them to be on these trips. This 'show' will give us a glimpse, no more than that, of what they got up to while together. Bottom line - it's about them, not the show and definitley not us.

So yeah, tripping together (lol, as in traveling, just felt like using that fun word, which can mean so much more as well) is something couples love to do, and going on said trips prior to a huge life changing event (let's be real here, going into the military for 18 months, especially knowing that to be able to enlist TOGETHER, they will be placed in one of the harsher units and environments, knowing that even though they will be together they most certainly will not have the freedoms they enjoy prior to enlistment), well that is something they would do as well.

To sum this whole rant up:

I came here to show off some pics from my trip...

If Jikook are allowed to (and god help them all if we don't get that show eventually...), then so am I...

The scenery...

And the wild life

So there you have it.

I managed to talk about my trip and about Jikook all in one long ranty post.

To those that managed to work their way through it I have this to say:

[shinidamachu]

the importance of "I'll protect you with my life"

For @inukag-week's sacrifice prompt, I thought I'd expand on a topic I have only mentioned before: the "I'll protect you with my life" line and why it matters even more than we give it credit for.

The thing about Inuyasha's character is that he was build — both physically and psychologically — to survive.

Physically, the fact that his own blood can be weaponized into a powerful attack backs up that assumption.

And so does the fact that one of his defining traits is having a defense mechanism that kicks in whenever he's on the verge of certain death with the sole purpose of keeping him alive.

Psychologically, his tough childhood shaped his survival instincts into a reliable and sharpened sense. And this next part is more of a conjecture than anything else, but I believe Izayoi's death plays a huge role here.

It can be assumed that she gave up a lot in order to live her love story and her life choices ultimately resulted in an early death. Inuyasha, being the child born from that love, has no better way of honoring her memory than living. First, for her. Then, to spite those who were against his very existence.

And this — conscious or not — need to live, is deeply intertwined with his desire to belong. Fitting in is the safest way to survive and, at first, he tried to achieve that by becoming a powerful demon.

Then, he went the opposite direction and agreed to turn into human, which only cements that his true wish wasn't to simply become one or the other at all, but to be accepted, so he could live.

That's why he doesn't take threats to his life laying down, especially when unearned. It may not look like, given his reckless way of dealing with things, but in a crooked way, Inuyasha actually values his life.

So much, in fact, that putting other people's lives above his own was a foreign concept that he struggled with at the beginning and had to learn in order to wield Tessaiga.

When Kagome tells Inuyasha she will help him with the sword under the condition he promises to protect her, she obviously never meant that said protection should cost of his life.

She wouldn't dream of it because she knows she's not entitled to it. He doesn't owe her anything. Although, one could make a point that he kind of does.

Kagome is literally the reason he is alive. Through their journey, is a recurring theme that her voice would bring him back from death's grasp every time. She's constantly saving his life. In more ways than one.

And despite Inuyasha's immediate reaction to her request being to mock her and making it clear that he never said he would protect her forever, he was the one to willingly and unpromtly add the "with my life" bit.

Even though protecting Kagome with his life was precisely what he had been doing the entire time — in spite of spending a good chunk of the series thinking his life wasn't his to give away —, to say it out loud makes for an amazing paralel and it shows how much they've grown, both as characters and as a couple.

But more than that: it shows a whole new level of devotion. For the first time ever, Inuyasha is chosing to promise his life to someone for no other reason than the fact that he loves her.

And despite talking about a lifelong commitment, I can't remember a single stance of the story where Inuyasha had acted more free.

No wonder the scene can be interpreted as a proposal.

[paper-mario-wiki]

scout how do i get into tf2. i want to play but i'm intimidated

u can choose one of the 9 guys, and theyre all fun to play.

first guy is the fastest and jumps twice, but has low health. he has a strong shotgun as his primary that can kill people from full health in 2 shots if youre close enough and aim well enough

second guy is kinda slow and has a rocket launcher, which does a lot of damage (but not enough to kill anyone in a single hit like other FPS games, unless you get a crit), and hes got a lot of health

third guy is my favorite one and is one of the more mechanically complex. u can do a lot, but for now think of it as area denial. not very much range, but high output and leaves them on fire

fourth guy is like junkrat: he launches grenades that explode on impact with a target, but if they hit a wall or the ground they wait out their natural timer before exploding. he can also leave bombs that he can detonate at any time. hes also pretty slow but has more health.

fifth guy has the most health and the strongest gun, but is also the slowest and one of the easier guys to pick off from a distance. hes got a big gatling machine gun

sixth guy specializes in utilities. he can deny an area by putting down a sentry that fires automatically and be upgraded twice (faster firing + rockets with levels 2 and 3). he's not great in 1v1s but he can hold is own if you play smart.

7th guy is the main healer. you point at a guy and click on him to heal, but after youve connected to him you dont need to keep looking at him the whole time; as long as youre within a certain distance and you keep holding down the mouse button you'll keep healing. he also passively regenerates health slowly, but as the worst offensive options in the game

8th guy is broken. you can instantly kill anyone from any distance as long as you click on their head. not super great in close combat but has optional weapons that can enhance his survival rate when he's rushed down

9th guy goes invisible, can disguise as enemy teammates to fool them, and can instantly kill anyone with a backstab, but he's also easy to kill and has poor defensive options if he's caught out by himself.

the game is free to download, and once you do i suggest queuing for casual selecting any maps that look good

i suggest Harvest, Badlands, Sawmill, and Viaduct for King of the Hill

i suggest Badwater, Upward, Frontier, Snowycoast, and Borneo for payload

i suggest Turbine, 2Fort, Double Cross, and Landfall for Capture the Flag

go have fun. dont worry about being bad. just play and find joy in any way you can.

[maxdibert]

speaking of Snape's teaching style — I love our bitchy abusive boi, but also I kinda do have a cognitive dissonance here, because while saying he was mean to the students just in honor of his espionage cover is unrealistic, thinking that neither Snape nor Dumbledore considered this crucially important aspect reduces them to dunderheads with planning horizon of a goldfish

perhaps Sev's natural tendencies simply coincided with the needs of the order, but at least Snape had a good reason to encourage the worst parts of himself, with Albus' silent (or perhaps not so silent in Albus' way) approval. overall I don't like it when Snape is portrayed as a lupin-like cutie patootie teacher who would coddle kiddos if only he didn't have to show off in front of Lucius, buuuut when the war aspect is completely excluded from the discourse, it also feels off. for me especially the very first lesson, specifically that "taking points for not looking after Neville" part, seems rather artificial and random, unlike most further interactions, where Snape looks way more refined in his malice

(talking only about him being a meanie, not about his breakdowns or anything)

thoughts on the matter?

Alright, let’s break this down.

First of all, if Severus showed favoritism toward Draco, I don’t think it had anything to do with maintaining some kind of cover. I think he genuinely had a soft spot for the kid. Just like Severus hated Harry because he saw James in him, it’s not far-fetched to think he was partial to Draco because he saw Lucius in him—someone who always treated him well and spoke highly of him.

Severus isn’t a jerk to all of his students; he’s specifically a jerk to Gryffindors, and even more so to Harry and his friends. Because the story is told from their perspective, we think of him as this huge asshole, but honestly, we have no idea what people like Cho or Cedric (as Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs) thought of him, or even Luna. We know nothing about how he’s perceived by houses other than Gryffindor and Slytherin, which conveniently have a rivalry and also conveniently represent Severus’ unresolved traumas from his own school years.

Then there’s the fact that Severus isn’t a pleasant person, nor does he pretend to be. Being nice just isn’t part of his personality. He’s sarcastic, sassy, and sharp, and he loves making cutting remarks, either to hit someone where it hurts or simply to use his words like poisoned darts. He doesn’t need people to like him, and honestly, he doesn’t want people to like him—he makes zero effort to be agreeable. Clearly, he hates his job and is completely fed up, so no, it’s not an act. He’s just an asshole. And we love him for it because, honestly, the more of an asshole he is, the funnier he gets. He’s someone who knows how to use his words like blades in a way that’s clever and even entertaining—especially if you have a dark sense of humor. That whole “he’s keeping up appearances” thing? Maybe he did certain things to maintain his cover, but his attitude wasn’t part of that. His shitty personality is just who he is, and we love him for it, lol.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about the kids. The guy makes sure they don’t die or end up impaled somewhere, working overtime and risking his neck for them. And that’s one of the dualities I love about him: he clearly doesn’t want to do it, but he has a strong sense of responsibility. He hates those kids; they drive him up the wall, and he’d probably strangle them if he could—but not only does he not do that, he goes out of his way to make sure they survive the school year. To me, that matters more than being a lovable person like Lupin, who doesn’t take his damn potion and puts everyone in danger.

Severus is a bastard, but he’s a responsible bastard when it counts. And I think, as an adult, you gain perspective and realize, yeah, he was an absolute dick, but I’d leave my kids with him over Lupin any day. With Severus, sure, they’d leave his class crying, but at least they wouldn’t end up dead. He’s the lesser evil, lol.

[acupofinkedblood]

Medkit x reader [An Arrow To The Knee]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

How has he became such a fool?

They say that love has this blessing that drive you mad. Medkit used to think that it’s such an exaggerated vision of those lovesick idiots that have nothing better to do, but now he can definitely be certain that he had become one of the said fools the very moment he fell for you. Sometimes Medkit can only curse his heart for not just turn into rock or something, because him and love? It’s not the prettiest combination, at least he thought so

But then you slowly make your way into his life. Since when did he start to realize that he was yearning for your company each time you part ways with him then bid him a smiling ‘See you soon’? Medkit doesn’t know. There isn’t any logical expansion for love, what a pity. That little feeling of a bunch of butterflies doing backflips inside his stomach whenever he is near you is so frustrating, yet it’s you. He can’t push you away

Or he did a few times, but you’re just too stubborn to even accept that mere defeat

The moment the confession finally lifts up the unspoken tension weighs in his heart, Medkit feels like he is finally able to breathe under the light of his true feelings around you. Sure, it takes time. A lots of time and patience for him to warm up to your presence as someone close to his life. Because he is like a cat rescued by you, and they need quite a while to adapt, no? Rest assured, now that the two of you belong together, there is nothing else to worry about

Mekdit used to state that he was afraid of commitment because he couldn’t foresee what the future had to offer, whether it’s a melancholic tragedy or the fulfilling happy ending he had been chasing after. And you are a part of that little play he takes up on the stage as well — Or in another word, a play of his life — which means he doesn’t know what role will fate gives you in the future. All those years, he has relied solely on his sense of survival to make his decision. He just doesn’t want to lose it all again

He trusts his intuition, he really does. Yet somehow when the matter involves you, he can’t help but going back and forth. One wrong decision and this action will have consequences on both of your lives. Hell, he is even on the run right now, who knows how long will he be able to keep himself out of that death sentence of Blackrock’s government and the endless madness of the Cult? He loves you, and he only wants what is best for the two of you

When he first got into this relationship with you, he was a bit uneasy. He has actually mentally braced himself if anything happens, but to his surprise, you shower him with affection of his preference, he feels like his heart is beating again lively. He feels loved around you, and he loves you. There is this specific idea that keeps bugging him from times to times after years of being together with you. Will that be too sudden? Or what if it isn’t what you want? Medkit is still as ever, prefers to figure things by himself to not bother anyone else. However, as time flies, he can finally understand what to do. For once, let him gamble his life on his own as he throws the given script given by fate away

He is already the leas actor of his life, might as well starts to become the co-director of his choices at this point

“Careful,” he coos, holding onto your hand while you close your eyes, “Don’t trip on your feet, take it easy”

“My, a surprise for me? I can feel the slight salty breeze, dare I might say it’s the beach?”

“Lucky that you even remember my words when I urged you to take a coat”

Your chuckle eases the bubbling worries deep inside his chest. Yes, he did take you to the beach in the crack of dawn, but the sun isn’t coming out just yet. Lucky for you that demon doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, or else you will probably sleepwalk your way here with him. It sounds clearer now, the steady waves hit the shore rhythmically. As the wind kisses your face, you can even smell the sea water in the chilly night. It feels peaceful, but a bit cold of course. Thankfully Medkit insists that you should bring a coat along. Your boyfriend is always such a worrisome guy, but you still love that about him

“We’re here. C’mon, open up your eyes”

The sun gently perks up from the sea the very moment you do as he told. The golden rays caress your face, blesses you with the dawn of a new day. Its reflection is almost glistening on the surface of the sea, the sight is almost surreal. While you are still in awe of the serene landscape, Medkit still keeps his hands in the pockets of his coat, occasionally fidgeting with the object inside it anxiously. But he can’t really back off now, can he? Medkit takes a deep breath, rehearsing his own lines which he had to write it over and over again until reaching the perfect conclusion

He calls out your name, watches you carefully as you look over to him. You can tell that his expression has softened greatly

“I have something important that I want to tell you”

“Tell me then,” you smile, “Is there something on your mind?”

“All those times you have stayed by my side, I have to admit that I have grown soft. Years have passed, and I just want you to know that you mean a lots to me. The thought of the future can be scary, but when I imagine you standing at the end of the tunnel, my heart can’t help it but feels…calm. And even if I’m afraid of going forward, at least I know that I can rely on you to keep me on my toes. And I, truly, want you to accompany me on this path of the future”

Before you can process his words properly, Medkit gets down on one knee as he finally pull the thing that he keeps fidgeting with inside his pocket: A velvet box - a typical choice to store a ring inside. Wait, hold on—

“I want to stay by your side, to grow old with you and to live for a tomorrow worth dying for. Not just to survive anymore, I want to live. And I wish to spend my life with you until my last breath. I promise that I will take care of you with all I have got, so…,” the box is opened, revealing the sleeping beauty of a golden ring lying inside, “Will you marry me?”

Your brain stops functioning for a good moment there. Is this a dream? You aren’t sleepwalking, right? Your hands tremble slightly with joy as you acknowledge this is reality, that oh so bright smile can be helped but appear on your face. You feel like crying, but that overwhelming satisfaction of happiness is conflicted with it. What a reaction you are having at the moment, he thinks. Before Medkit knows it, you already flung yourself into him with your arms around his body. He almost falls backwards into the sand in surprise there, mind you. But he can’t bring himself to be annoyed at that fact, not when you are this overjoyed

All those time you thought you will be the one that purpose to him first, guess that he really catches you by surprise in the best way possible, huh?

“Yes! A hundred times yes,” you exclaim, “I will and I do, how can I not?”

That answer does more than just satisfy him. That simple word feels like an elixir to put all his worries at bay, especially with you in his embrace like this. One hand holding the ring box, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Medkit let out of a relaxed sigh as he takes in your senses. The shore is all for the two of you, so there is no one around to judge or anything. But even if they do, you simply don’t give a damn

“I love you too,” he murmurs, “Forever”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: I bought this super cute bracelet that matches the one that I wear before and it’s just so so adorable（＾Ｏ＾）

[trans-axolotl]

Can I ask what things have helped you learn to live with psychosis?

Sure! It's definitely been a journey for me, so this is probably going to be a long post lol. I'm also going to add the disclaimer that this is about about me and what worked for me--I don't think this is going to be helpful for everyone and I don't think that everyone needs to think about their psychosis/altered states in the same way that I think about mine.

When I first starting experiencing it, psychosis was very disruptive and incredibly distressing to me. Now, at this point in my life, although my psychosis is often inconvenient or annoying, it generally is not distressing or majorly disrupting my life in the way it used to. a lot of credit for this is due to places like Project LETS, the Hearing Voices Network, etc, that let me see for the first time different ways of thinking about and coping with altered states. The medical model was more harmful than anything for me: it left me feeling like i had no agency over my own experiences, and that the only option the rest of my life would be to submit to varying degrees of surveillance and control with no hope of ever having moments of joy again.

For me, the first step for living with my psychosis was to approach my hallucinations/delusions with a lot of curiosity, and to build up my own picture of what my experience of psychosis was like. I started asking myself a lot of questions:

What do the hallucinations/delusions I experience look like? What do they feel like in my body? What emotions do they bring up for me? What's happening in my life when I'm having more frequent hallucinations/delusions? How do I feel when people challenge me on my hallucinations/delusions? Are there people/places/things that my hallucinations/delusions are happening more frequently around? What parts of my hallucinations/delusions bring me distress? Are there any parts of my hallucinations/delusions that I like? Are there things that help making dealing with hallucinations/delusions easier?

The way I wrote these questions out makes it sound like I had a lot of insight about the fact that I was hallucinating and delusion and makes it sound like I was really methodical about this, which is absolutely not the case. A lot of this was me just like, scribbling in journals and google docs about my theories about angels and my favorite angels and lists of poisons and on and on and on. A lot of the most helpful insights were random ones that I found when I was completely delusional, not in the periods when I had insight and was trying to map all this out.

But overall, what I was able to figure out was that in general, most of my psychosis was associated with one of two themes:

feeling unsafe and worried about dangerous threats

feeling controlled and unable to exercise my autonomy.

This made a lot of sense to me, given my own personal history with trauma and the traumatic things actively happening in my life at the time. When that clicked it felt like so much suddenly made sense, and I was able to get a lot more of an understanding of why certain things felt so distressing and urgent. Having a delusion that all my food is being poisoned creates a level of paranoia and stress that is pretty unreasonable and unhelpful as an adult who buys all their own food. Having that same level of paranoia and stress as a child who had to live in a dangerous situation without any control? A lot more helpful and reasonable for surviving. There were so many hallucinations/delusions (bugs/people in my walls/monsters and blood/etc) that I could clearly track all the ways that they did kind of function as a protective strategy for me in traumatic situations by raising my level of alarm and awareness, but now just caused me so much fucking stress.

At this point, it felt like I had a pretty okay grasp on some of the reasons I was experiencing psychosis, and then wanted to think about how I could actually then cope with it. First I identified all the things that weren't working and instead were just making me pissed off and making things worse.

Logical attempts to reality check me just made me feel more stressed, paranoid, and often made the hallucinations worse and the delusions bigger.

Before, this hadn't made any sense to me, but after identifying those underlying emotions around safety and autonomy it made so much fucking sense. People reality checking me, or even me trying to use logic against hallucinations with myself, didn't do anything to validate my emotions or meet that underlying need. Instead it just made me feel like I wasn't being listened to or believed, that I didn't have anyone I could trust, and that I had to be more on guard, which just perpetuated the whole cycle!

So for me, I realized that any coping skills would need to be centered around validating my emotions and meeting my underlying need for safety and/or autonomy. Practically, what this looked like for me was making a bunch of documents that are titled things like "Tips for if there's bugs inside of you" "Things you like to remember when you're talking to angels" etc etc etc. I think what really helped this work for me is that I didn't title them things like "how to cope with delusions about bugs" because I know that when I'm delusional, reading something like that is just going to piss me off and make me feel like I'm being called a liar. In those documents I write a lot of affirmations for my emotions and then write out a list of specific coping skills, organized from least chaotic/risky to most chaotic/risky. Nothing gets me more pissed off when I'm in a bad space then people trying to get me to use therapeutic coping skills when I don't want to, so I knew that I wanted to include a wide range of out-of-the-box coping skills. I'll share a few from my list of coping skills for increasing autonomy that I put in my "tips for if there's bugs inside of you document."

eat/shower/sleep/talk to someone in real life/pain meds

redecorate your room

shoplift

cut your hair

work on a project like embroidery or knitting or origami where you have to create something with your hands

choose a random place outside and go there

try some DBT/ACT/RODBT skills and see if they help you feel just 2% better, enough that you can do something else that you hate less like distractions.

distract (talk with friends, watch tv, read)

choose a random place outside and go there

make a lot of noise and kick things over in your room

break things

self harm (following my harm reduction plan)

drugs/alcohol

if i'm doing well enough, i try to first use coping skills that don't also have mental or physical risks for myself, but if i need to, I give myself permission to cope in whatever ways meet my needs in the moment and try to let go of some of the shame associated with riskier coping skills. I also have talked about psychosis openly with my trusted friends who know what kinds of support are helpful and what shit just makes me pissed off and frightened.

Overall, this has helped make psychosis a LOT less distressing for me, and over time also has made it happen slightly less. About half the time these days I have insight that what's happening are delusions or hallucinations which has helped make it easier to remember to cope. These days, psychosis mostly happens when my body is under a lot of stress (no sleep/seizure recovery/not eating/injured), and also sort of acts an alarm bell to me that somethings going on in my life that I might not have noticed, either in terms of my physical health or in terms of stressful situations or emotions that I'm not ready to think about or process.

That's one of the reasons that my psychosis is so meaningful to me, to be honest. I honestly feel really grateful that my psychosis gave me a way to externalize and experience my emotions before I was ready or able to experience them and feel them in my body. I think having hallucinations/delusions helped protect me at certain times in my life while still helping me acknowledge in a certain way that I was so fucking angry and grieving and hurt and in pain. I think that helped keep me alive long enough to get to a point where I could start to process and unpack trauma without it completely overwhelming me, or without convincing myself that I needed to be fine at any cost. And maybe it's strange to say I'm grateful for that, but I am.

so. that's most of what has worked for me. The way I wrote it out made it seem super simple and straightforward, but in reality it was absolutely nothing like that. It was years of a lot of chaos and feeling upset so much of the time and feeling absolutely clueless and my loved ones feeling concerned and writing things down and forgetting that I wrote things down and having the same problem over and over agai. just overall was so messy and not at all a linear process like I wrote about it here. I absolutely still have plenty of times where I just fuck off and forget I've ever thought about coping and just go around with hallucinations disrupting my entire day, and plenty of times it's still stressful.

And also again: this is about me and what's worked for me. My biggest advice for other people about coping with psychosis is a lot less about the specifics of a process or exactly what coping skills to use. Instead I think it's a lot more about approaching with curiosity first, just giving yourself the space to explore your psychosis on your own terms, to try things out, to build your own relationship with psychosis and how it fits into your life, and to affirm yourself as someone who does have agency about how you want to think, talk, feel, and cope with your own psychosis/altered states.

hope that was helpful and/or interesting anon, feel free to let me know if you have any other psychosis/altered states questions!

[skykidsam]

Shard Memory: Shattering (and lots of unhinged rambling about lore implications)

Long read ahead - some Sky: The Two Embers spoilers in the block of text toward the end.

I really wanted to get more shots but I literally clipped into Tsadi's cape and couldn't escape ;-;

Anyway, here we go:

From left to right: Sa, Mekh, Lamed, Teth, Daleth, Tsadi (barely visible in the darkness on the bottom right), Ayin, and floating in the center above everyone else and directly above the shattering stone, the upside-down mask and fading silhouette of King Resh.

I got this closer shot of the mask. I should have gotten a screenshot while I was actually on it because the details don't translate from far away. The best description I can give is this: it seemed like mostly just the mask, no real substance to the head or body; the mask was two stars stacked on top of one another, the bigger being a four-pointed star with the longest point being the top (but in this case, with it being upside-down, the bottom), and the smaller star having many more points and resting directly on top of the bigger star. And in the eye of both stars is a single spot (a diamond, if I remember correctly), that looks like a small darkstone.

I find it really interesting that all of the elders were present for the Shattering. I can only assume they were there to stop it - but I wonder how much they were aware of. Darkness was already spreading through the realms for some time. The King had been corrupted. Was the Storm on the horizon? Was the stone already glowing red and showing its cracks? Could they tell what a monstrous catastrophe they were on the brink of experiencing? Or were they there simply to intervene and stop the King?

And then these guys. I know we still don't fully know what Winged Lights even are. But with the new extended preview of Sky: The Two Embers out, there's one scene in particular that this makes me think of. (I'll save hard spoilers for the end and will give warning beforehand.)

So, my take?

I think we're seeing the moment Resh sacrificed himself to save everyone. We're also seeing that it was too late.

We also know from devs that Elder cutscenes exist in a place outside space and time, but that they still have an effect on the world. I think we're seeing why. The moment this stone shattered, all those present were killed, but were also locked in their own limbo, living out their most notable moments over and over again across probably infinite dimensions (like watching the same scene over and over in the reflections bouncing off shards of broken glass... or crystal). They're stuck. Not here in Sky, not in Orbit, not with The Light - but somewhere In Between. Purgatory.

But... why? How?

Well, the path to Orbit was still blocked - both by the shattered crystal itself, and by the now-demolished castle infrastructure that was previously seated on and above the mountain peak. Even aside from that, most, if not all of the Elders had already been corrupted; aka, depleted of their natural light and/or filled with darkness - who knows if they even had enough internal light left to participate in the natural light/life cycle, even if they had survived.

What about the King?

We also now have confirmation in the art book that, "The Ruler would sacrifice themselves to share light back into the skies, and the light souls would then return as Descendants."

With that information, I have a few theories. He was certainly corrupted, and very likely the most corrupted of all the Elders. So, my first question is, what was his act of sacrifice?

We clearly see him upside-down, seemingly disintegrating or dissolving, with nothing but his (presumably darkstone-imbued) mask remaining.

Was his sacrifice the thing that destroyed the crystal? Had it absorbed too much light, started glowing red and attracting Darkness and Storm to it, and so the crystal is what needed to be stopped?

Or was the shattering itself the cause of the Storm?

Three things we know for certain:

There was already war, darkness, corruption, and pollution before the stone shattered.

The shattering itself caused immense structural damage.

The stone was harnessing light/souls directly from the sacred migration to The Light.

So my theories are:

A) The stone itself had been corrupted and had become volatile, so the King sacrificed himself to shatter the stone and make way for light to enter back into the light/life cycle.

B) The sheer density of light/souls was too much for the stone, causing deterioration over time that eventually allowed darkness to manifest, and that structural deterioration led to the Shattering. The King sacrificed himself to try to contain it/minimize the damage.

In either case, the Elders and King would probably be able to see visual cues that warn them things are about to get bad. In situation A, it would be a change of color from blue to vibrant, violent red. In situation B, it would be the progressive chips and cracks in the stone that would probably let them know when it's close to exploding. In either case, the Elders and King are likely gathering to decide how to handle it, when the King decides that it's ultimately his mess, so he ought to be the one to deal with it. He uses the last of his power to try to destroy or contain it (in whatever way he can), and then it shatters.

And then what happened?

Well, we know that unnatural deaths leave remains, as seen in Forest, Wasteland, and Vault. There are no remains.

Natural deaths mean your light gets recycled back into the soul cycle and you cease to exist as you once did, but that's not quite right either. This certainly wasn't a natural death. We also still see the Elders - not as memory projections like the mantas in Vault and not like the Spirits of our Ancestors - but as actual, tangible Memories, just like the Shattering Memories. When we meditate at their shrines, they still visit us and give us their warnings - the same warnings - time after time.

Like I said earlier, they're stuck somewhere Between, living out those key moments over and over for the rest of eternity.

They even both take place in seemingly the same type of greyed out void space. I hesitate to call it "a void" because Void could very well be its own entity. But also, there's a real possibility this is that entity. (Something like "The Empty" from Supernatural.)

And the King?

Again, I have more than one theory.

He could be trapped in the stone. This isn't my theory, I don't know where it came from, but even this theory has two sub-theories. 1a being that his consciousness is trapped in the Eden crystal, forever shattering and killing the Descendants who attempt to free the souls trapped in the cycle; 1b being that he's the Season of Shattering crystal, that he's reliving those memories and sharing them with us in a similar limbo as the Elders. (My thought, if this is true, is that it's both. I believe the Season of Shattering stone would be the largest piece of the King's consciousness, still capable of memory, and perhaps thought, but not much else - but that that stone is still stuck in the center of the ever-shattering crystal in Eden, simultaneously experiencing the Memories and the Shattering indefinitely.)

He sacrificed himself and returned what was left of his light, and that light became the Descendants. (Also not my theory, the idea that we're fragments of the King has been around a while, I'm sure.)

HOWEVER, upon re-reading the quote, some phrasing stands out.

"The Ruler would sacrifice themselves to share light back into the skies, and the light souls would then return as Descendants."

So... who did the Ruler sacrifice? Does "themselves" refer to both parts of the Ruler (Prince Alef/King Resh)? Or does it refer to himself and the Elders, who were all conveniently present? That theory gets dark fast.

If it's the Ruler sacrificing their own "selves", it may explain the two hugging WL on top of the crystal. Two halves of a whole, re-uniting in a post-mortem act of forgiveness. But that leaves the clip from recent leaks a mystery.

Regardless, I read that hug on top of the stone as a heart-wrenching "I forgive you" moment.

Another theory that I don't know how to neatly fit into all of this text:

The quote explicitly states that the Ruler sacrifices themselves to share light back into the skies.

It does not say whose light. If it was the King's light, you'd think they would have specified that (unless they intended for it to be vague, which would also make sense.)

We know the King and Elders hoarded light. One place we know they hoarded light was the powerstones/darkstones, so it's not a stretch to consider that by sacrificing himself to shatter the massive stone, he was then sharing the light (from within the stone) back into the skies and that light became Descendants.

Another place they could have potentially hoarded light is within themselves. (What if that's the reason they're so tall compared to all other Ancestors?) Especially if they were corrupted, their bodies may act a lot like Dark Creatures in the sense that they have an insatiable hunger for light. In this case, maybe it makes sense for the King to try to sacrifice himself and all of the elders. (Then the question becomes... did they know they'd be sacrificed? Honestly, probably. I suspect they understood their role in the way events were unfolding by that point. It's another question entirely whether they all went willingly.)

And FINALLY, what about those two hugging Winged Lights??

Well, I'm sure it won't surprise you that I have more than one theory. Both include at least one of the kids being the King's "soul."

Theory 1 is that both of the kids are the king, like I alluded to earlier. Two halves of a whole, reuniting and hugging in an act of self-forgiveness. Simple. Sweet. Only a little confusing.

- Hard Spoiler Territory -

The second is based solely on The Two Embers and the scene in Orbit, where a dark child that looks like Alef hugs a golden child that looks like Hopeful Steward.

Another moment of forgiveness, but between friends who shared a common interest. They both wanted life, light, and prosperity for their world - but they had different visions. One sought prosperity through community; the other sought prosperity through power and greed. Ultimately, they both paid the price.

But why is Alef dark in the video if, in this memory, he is light?

Well, it depends.

If the first scenario is true, where it's his own two halves becoming whole again, my assumption is that his light/soul was returned from the crystal once it was shattered. If this is the case, his soul likely returned to the soul cycle and we are all little fragments of him. (Which leaves me a little salty about the fates of the Elders, I can't lie.)

That scenario may explain the split between Alef (Prince) and Resh (King). Perhaps his childish innocence and sense of self was absorbed into the stone at some point, only to be freed in the Shattering.

If it's the second scenario, a forgiveness between friends, I believe the Hopeful Steward was the one to return his light - mirroring the scene of skykids in Orbit.

And if THAT'S the case, where is the King now?

I guess we'll just have to find out. Maybe he and the Hopeful Steward merged and were reborn as the first Descendent? Or maybe his soul stayed to contain the ever-shattering crystal, while Steward's soul went on to guide Descendants in their journey.

One thing we can say for certain is that they all die. Lovely. (But we already knew that.)

And we can also see that the Steward somehow found (or made?) Aviary, that they have some authority over/relationship to the Descendants, and that other Ancestors regard Steward with a lot of respect.

I know most of this will be answered in time, but I can't help it, my mind is still reeling with all the possibilities 💭

[hybbart]

Was Revy’s death something planned long before or a more recent development?

Tl;dr it was an idea I had in the back of my mind for a while now that it could happen, but when and where weren't set in stone until circumstances naturally fell that way and I was literally drawing the pages.

It's something that came about naturally. I knew once I did the more time-skippy years Revy would probably die eventually, just because he was getting older, but how and why came about as events happened. It was just 'this thing happened and here's the logistics of it based on everything'.

There was a chance Revy would die protecting Jimmy the same way there was a chance Jimmy would lose his wings or Hels would die- I don't decide anything for certain until it's down on a page and published- but it wasn't something I wanted to happen off screen at the very least. The way events played out and what I wanted to draw that's how the cookie crumbled that he survived, but the sculk was something that would be a problem and it happened that by the time they saved Jimmy it was mid-fall.

I thought also after so many bad days the ranchers ought to have a few good days before all the consequences caught up, it might be too depressing if they didn't get at least a small moment to breathe.

I go back and forth on whether the sculk should have started being visible on the outside, but I thought it might be Too Much on top of everything to have that stress when Jimmy was kidnapped and it's completely possible for it to have not been visible. It had thr side effect of probably feeling out of nowherr maybe, that's the give and take of the options.

I also debated whether the ranchers would leave him to turn, try to prolonge things, or put him down. The first option was eliminated pretty quickly, but I decided it probably would be again Too Much afyer this arc to have another full winter's worth of pages where Revy is either slowly dying in the bg or not present at all? Either way I knew by that point Revy just wouldn't make it through the winter if it was infecting his brain already. He'd only get more unpredictable and violent and need lots of care and focus, and that seemed like both for the sake of the readers and the ranchers not a great choice.

It might have been the choice Tango made if he was on his own, though. I don't think he has the constitution to put a pet to sleep, even if E False could provide the medicine to do it painlessly. But with Jimmy there I think it's the most believable and realistic choice for them.

[ghoulsbounty]

Hii! What's your headcanons about relationship with Otis Driftwood? Nothing too violent towards reader after they became a s/o, if you could, without going into ooc <3

Otis Driftwood In a Relationship

Warnings: smut (18+), control, possessiveness, gaslighting, mentions of sex work (not reader), canon-typical violence, aggression, narcissism, it's otis - he is a warning!

Words: 1.1K

A/N: Thank you for my first Otis request! I've been in love with this man for going on twenty years so I have lots of headcanons for him. I feel like this is realistically (to me) how he would have a relationship with someone who wasn't either a victim or murderer while still keeping him in character (I hope!) Also yes I had to get the quote in the last bullet, I was watching the film as I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

→ It's widely known that Otis harbours some unconventional interests. In the small town of Ruggsville, the Firefly family's prominence, especially their ties to local celebrity Captain Spaulding, is undeniable. In this backwater community, everyone has their own shades of darkness when it comes to entertainment or survival, so you don't bat an eyelash at the rumours circulating about the family.

 → Otis charms you with his quick wit and sharp tongue, an aura of danger enveloping him and lingering in his presence. He frequents the local watering hole where you work, spending quiet summer evenings regaling you with stories of travelling the country with his younger sister, moving from one stolen car to the next. When you ask why he returned to the dead-end town, he nonchalantly declares that family is the most important thing to him. And then, with a mischievous grin, he casually mentions his involvement in a Satanic cult. 

→ Otis thinks that perhaps what draws him to you is your refusal to flinch at his unsavoury stories or the sly smirk you offer when he alludes to the sweet taste of your skin. He enjoys the recoil from others, welcomes it even because it's what he's known since he was a child and means he's got the upper hand. You give him pause, a dangerous thing indeed. In you, he sees a kindred spirit equally disillusioned with societal norms, and he wonders how long it will take to break you. 

→ With every aspect seemingly covered, there's no obvious place for you in his life. Yet, thoughts of you intrude on his mind during the day, distracting him from his tasks. The persistent idea that you might offer something different to his routine gradually consumes him, eroding all other thoughts until only you remain. 

→ His carnal needs are met by the bottom feeders he keeps around for a quick release. Sometimes, when their pleading becomes bothersome and he wants the peace and quiet, he will end it fast because it's easier when they're cold. He pulls them into his cot and curls into them until they have festered and rotten to the point that Tiny has to dispose of them. If it's a willing body he seeks, a trip to the whorehouse suffices. 

→ It's a few months before you meet the family. Otis doesn't need to tell you the importance of the moment, you can sense it in his tense demeanour, permeating the lounge as Mama parades you around the room like a prize pig at the county fair. You sense his eyes upon you, observing your reactions to each member, particularly noting your response to Tiny's imposing presence and your handling of Grandpa's vulgarity. In his mind, he rationalizes that you'll need a strong stomach if you are going to be with him. 

→ You are under no illusion that you're not the only person from whom Otis seeks comfort. He isn't shy about the fact that he needs more than what you can give him, says as much when he insists on you leaving him be for a few days to exorcise his darker urges. He doesn't approach the subject of you joining him sometimes until he is certain that you won't spring like a scared rabbit. When he finally does ask, you accept with a morbid curiosity.

→ Otis certainly has his private indulgences, but he takes great pleasure in involving you in some of his less solitary activities. Whatever the pursuit may be, it often concludes with him inside of you, his teeth leaving raw marks on your skin as he draws out multiple orgasms from your pliable body.

→ In these moments, he alternates between showering you with praise and delivering sharp, cutting remarks, his rough fingers encircling your throat as he thrusts into you with relentless force, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy until you're cock drunk and screaming his name. He relishes in the intensity of the experience, breaking you down only to rebuild you according to his desires, sculpting you into his perfect masterpiece.

→ Over time, Otis's possessiveness and control puts an end to your employment, your independence dwindling in the face of your need to be with him and his need for your servitude. His affection is conditional upon your compliance and submission, and when you prove yourself to him is when you get your reward of a tender kiss to your nose, or being pulled into his lap for a warm embrace. His love is a privilege to be earned, and he is fast to take it away if he deems you unworthy of it.

→ Otis perceives you as an extension of himself, expecting you to conform to his desires and interests. He finds pleasure in your engagement with his world, he likes when you lounge on his stained mattress in nothing but his shirt listening to his musings on the complexities of human nature. He encourages you to challenge his viewpoints, igniting debates that fuel his passion.

→ However, you soon discover that venturing into this territory can be perilous. It often results in Otis's eyes blazing with fury, his hands trembling with conviction as he towers over you, unleashing a torrent of berating and belittling words until you find yourself on your knees before him. It's a volatile dance of intellectual stimulation intertwined with the raw intensity of his dominance.

→ It falls to you to navigate these moments, gently guide him back to a sense of equilibrium with a steady stream of apologies and affirmations, trail open mouthed kisses down his body until you feel him relax under your touch. Sometimes his tumultuous thoughts wouldn't waver and he'd either take his frustrations out on your cunt or push you away until you are begging at his door. For Otis, isolation becomes a test of your loyalty—will you stay, or run? 

→ And time and again, you choose to stay, receiving no verbal apology afterward because that is Otis' way. However, when he deems fit, he leaves small tokens on the bedside table for you to find in the morning—a small sculpture, a painting—his non-verbal way of acknowledging his feelings about his actions. You know better than to draw attention to these gestures. Instead, you offer a kiss to his lips as a silent acknowledgment of his effort to make amends. His response is typically playful yet affectionate, a light smack on your behind accompanied by an eye roll, never one to dwell on sentimentality.

→ Overall, Otis is content with you, would dare say happy. You fit into his life with ease, don't give him much grief when you're not busy bitching a song about nothing. However, the devil makes work for idle hands, and there's still work to be done in fully acclimating you to his ways. He does love watching you break.

[fivewantscoffee]

So, Five x Lila. I need to get this out of my system so I can maybe finally move on:

I don't like the ship.

I don't like the characters together. I find the pairing a baffling one, and I don't like what it does to the show (and characters) either.

First of all, that wasn't Lila. I don't know who it was, but it wasn't the woman we saw off at the end of S3, or even the one we started off S4 with.

It just wasn't her.

You can blame trauma, or six years of being on the move. That's going to change a person, for sure, but this wasn't about giving Lila any character development.

It was about giving Five a love interest.

Because that life? Yeah. I could see it for Five. I could see him deciding to settle down and take life slow, I could see him being sweet and domestic with a partner should he have one. After he's had some time to heal, now that he's finally free of the apocalypse, I could see that for Five.

But Lila? She was unhappy in her marriage, at least partly because the domestic, stay-at-home-mum life has proven to be something that doesn't fulfil her. She wants more out of life, which is why "bookclub" happened, which is why she ended up in the subway with Five in the first place.

And okay. For the sake of argument, let's go with this. Let's say Five x Lila happened so they could cope with their situation. It was survival, like Lila said. If we were going to have to endure this bad, messy plot point anyway, (which we didn't, we really, really didn't), it should at least have been treated with the seriousness it deserves.

Because, Five? The complete, callous lack of remorse on his part? What the fuck was that?

Even if you pick through the crumbs and try to make it make sense, this wasn't a romance. At best it was survival, and coping, and kind of a tragedy all at once. Five shouldn't be picking fights with Diego. He shouldn't be acting like a spurned twenty-something-year-old.

And yeah, characters can be flawed and in the wrong, but why like this? This didn't feel like Five to me. He is brusque and, when looked at it from a certain angle, I can see why some would call him selfish (which I don't necessarily agree with, but that's a different conversation), but under all his layers, he does love his family. To me, that's the core of his character and has been since S1. Everything he's done, he's done to ensure their survival, then when he agreed to give up in S3, he was content to simply die by their sides.

So, you're telling that this Five, the one we've known and followed for three seasons, had a fling with Lila and didn't even feel guilty or conflicted about it? You're telling me loved this woman, yet was willing to keep her from her family, her children?

"Five is selfish" "Five is tired" "Five is finally moving on"

No. Not like that. To me, the Five from previous seasons (S2 specifically, because that's where a lot of it goes wrong) is only "selfish" in that he wants his family to survive and is willing to go to any lengths to achieve that. He's not exactly compassionate about Allison and Viktor having to leave Ray and Sissy behind. And yeah, he leaves Diego in the asylum because he doesn't want him messing with the timeline.

Is he in the wrong for that? Answer this any way you want, but I don't think it matters to Five. Does he want his siblings to be happy? In my opinion, of course he does, but they're not going to be happy if they're dead.

That's not the same as what S4 does. Not by a long shot. Five cares deeply about those he loves, and granted, he is pretty bad at showing it, but he does care.

He nearly worked himself into the grave trying to solve the first two apocalypses, with little regard for his own well-being. When he realised a third apocalypse was happening, he didn't say fuck it and continue his Pennsylvania retirement road trip... he immediately dropped everything to try and fix it.

So how did we get to S4 Five, who got with his brother's wife, found a way home, didn't tell Lila, AND THEN, after he finally gave her the notebook and they went back, he acts like that?

Yeah, no. That's not my Five.

Also, five x lila happening isn't Five moving on. If anything, it's how he copes with the situation they're in. That's just his Delores 2.0.

Anyway, all of this is moot because the fact of the matter is, they chose to make this happen. Five and Lila getting stuck in the subway together for seven years didn't have to happen.

I don't know.

This used to be a show about family. It also used to be a show about the effects of child abuse on this group of siblings. This started to fall to the wayside after S1, but the family aspect of it still remained.

At its core, tua has always been about family, so what was the point of making S4 at all if this is what they were going to give us?

It's not just Five x Lila. They messed this up across the board, with how flippantly the absence of Sloane and Ray was treated, how shallow and surface-level all of the rest was. They gave us some crumbs with Klaus and Allison, but they couldn't even do that without retconning their entire relationship. That's not even mentioning the ending. The Hargreeves all sacrificing themselves in the end could have worked, but this was not the way to do it.

Anyway, this rant is over. S1 Five, you'll always be famous to me.