#but you learn how to say what you want by working around and with them

[kateschi]

the line we crossed

synopsis: a charged night with your bodyguard leads to emotions bubbling to the surface.

pairing: bodyguard!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the soft glow of the hotel room’s lights reflects off the polished surfaces, casting gentle shadows that make the entire place feel like a private sanctuary.

despite the quiet elegance of the setting, tension hangs thick in the air between you and bakugou.

it’s been a long night—one that’s taken an unexpected turn—and now you’re both standing in the middle of the room, the aftermath of it all settling in.

“you don’t have to be so rough, y’know,” you say, your voice wavering slightly as you pull your wrist free from his grip.

bakugou’s hand is firm around your arm, pulling you through the hallways, his frustration evident in the way he practically drags you after him.

“shut up!” bakugou snaps, his usual intensity dialed up even higher tonight.

“I told you multiple times not to go anywhere without me! and guess what? you go and almost get yourself damn kidnapped!” his voice echoes, cutting through the tension like a knife.

you feel a tight knot of frustration rise in your chest.

“why do you care so much anyway?” you shoot back, folding your arms over your chest, not entirely sure why his anger is making you feel so unsettled.

he isn’t usually this worked up, especially not about your safety—it’s his job, after all.

but there’s something about the way he’s handled the situation tonight, something that feels more personal than professional, and you can't ignore it.

“care?” his voice is thick with irritation. “are you dumb? this is my job!”

you shake your head, the sting of his words settling like a weight in your chest. “that’s not what I mean!” you fire back, your emotions rising.

bakugou is unflinching, his hands resting on his hips as if he’s expecting an explanation. and you, well, you can’t hold it back anymore.

the words spill out in a rush before you can stop yourself.

“a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure the room is warm enough to my liking. a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure my food is exactly how i want it every time.

a normal bodyguard doesn’t send flowers to my dressing room without me ever asking for them, and they sure as hell don’t learn every little thing about me—like my favorite songs or how I like my tea!

you’ve been doing all of that, and I don’t know why!” the words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered.

bakugou is silent for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving you.

his brow furrows slightly, and he visibly shifts his stance, almost as if what you’ve said has caught him off guard.

he glances away for a split second, then clicks his tongue, the sound cutting through the quiet room.

“that doesn’t change the fact that you’re at fault,” he mutters under his breath.

the frustration building inside you crests like a wave, and you find yourself unable to keep the tears back anymore.

your chest tightens, and you step back, not sure whether to cry or scream.

“I’m not talking about that anymore, katsuki,” you say, your voice low and shaky.

the sound of his first name leaves your lips before you can even register it, and the room falls into an unexpected stillness.

the shift is almost palpable. bakugou’s gaze snaps to yours, his entire demeanor changing in an instant.

there’s something raw in his eyes, something that hasn’t been there before, and you realize that you’ve done something—something that’s clearly unsettled him.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat. you can see the conflict behind his eyes, the struggle between keeping up his tough exterior and admitting something deeper.

you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you refuse to back down now.

“do you like me?” you ask, slowly.

your pulse quickens as soon as they leave your mouth, but you don’t look away from him. you don’t have time to second-guess.

bakugou’s face flushes a deep shade of red, and for a second, he doesn’t speak, as if the question has caught him entirely off guard.

his eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth again, but his usual sharp retort doesn’t come. instead, he grunts, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“…does that matter?” he grumbles, looking away to avoid your gaze. “I’m gonna do my job perfectly anyway,” he says, his voice rough. “not weak enough to let feelings get in my way.”

you stare at him for a long moment, the truth of what he’s saying sitting between you both. he isn’t the type to mix personal feelings with his job, but you can see it now. you can see the cracks in his armor.

“I’m not worried about that,” you say, your voice quiet but with an underlying certainty.

and before you can stop yourself, you’re moving.

your hand reaches out, your fingertips brushing against his chest as you close the space between you.

you don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but the weight of everything you’ve just said—the tension, the fear, the desire to understand him—pushes you forward.

the kiss is tentative at first, as if neither of you truly knows how to navigate this moment.

but then, like a dam breaking, the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat from bakugou’s body pressing into you, his hands roughly grabbing onto your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

his lips are demanding, heated, and there’s something undeniably possessive in the way he kisses you, as if he had all of this pent up inside.

he pulls away suddenly, his eyes blazing with something unrestrained.

“I tried holding back,” bakugou says lowly, his voice raw and his breath ragged. his chest is heaving against yours, and his hands tremble slightly as they grip your waist.

before you can react, he pushes you back against the wall, the force of it stealing your breath away.

your heart races, your body caught between fear and desire as his face looms close to yours. his eyes lock with your own, burning and intense.

“you’ve got no one to blame for this but yourself,” he mutters.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[thiefcatmoth]

pac: how do people around you see you?

general reading. pick a pile, listening to your intuition. if nothing resonates, leave this pac behind.

pile 1

soft and sharp, warm and cold, changeable, but combining opposites so harmoniously. you have the ability to hide secrets inside and surprise others with little unusual bits of your personality. you have an inner stability, the ability to accept the twists of fate and use them to your advantage. people think that in feelings you give yourself to the bottom, both good and bad. some people find you too authoritarian, but you have a natural ability to make (or advise) others to do what you need or want. despite the general impression, some see your fragile spiritual core, and some may even say that you give them your light. even if you do not plan to illuminate someone's life, it happens on its own. many people do not strive to see beyond the facade that you have erected and may not realize that you can hide wisdom, knowledge, depth of words behind jokes and light-mindedness, a mask that you deliberately put up for others.

pile 2

others see you as a loyal, hardworking person, although not without a hint of something… gloomy? not hostility, but something dark or gloomy. you work even when obstacles arise, your persistence is admired by others, maybe even became an example or a source of inspiration for someone. at the same time, a special feminine energy emanates from you - cool, fresh, even a little youthful. energy that attracts, like a flower in the morning dew, but not everyone likes it. in general, you give the impression of someone who is difficult to gain trust, you don't let everyone in your inner circle, some think that you are too difficult to find the keys to. I think they just do not realize that you choose people based on your emotions and your inner circle is so important to you in order to develop, learn and work on yourself.

pile 3

some people think that you are capable of doing anything with your own hands. every little bit of what you do - art, handmade, cooking, whatever - has a special uniqueness, everything is a meaningful masterpiece. people see great wisdom in you, even when your words are not liked or seem poisonous. in addition, you know how to use all your knowledge for good. some people think that you are overprotective? the energy of excessive care, maybe even an attempt to prove that your views on everyday life and the material world are the most correct. someone may think that you were greatly influenced by your ancestors, and that is why your advice, even when you talk about something modern, can be perceived as outdated, similar to ancient wisdom. they are never devoid of meaning. few will be able to understand that helping others and caring that you do is not your favorite thing or a way to show yourself. these are just intuitive actions.

pile 4

the energy of an intelligent but closed person. clearly with a mind of your own, with clear internal and external boundaries. do you like black humor or sarcasm? or maybe there are notes of healthy cynicism in you? people sense that there is a storm of energy hidden inside you, it seems to them that your inner strength and impulses are more than enough for your desires and goals. for the sake of your goals, you can be assertive, choose smart paths and apply your efforts correctly. but others think that you are too free with your time, as if you own it. and some catch too many flirting signals. there is something in your behavior that reminds them of a socialite. to someone you may even seem frivolous in those moments when you deviate from your mask and image. someone notices that you often change your habits, style, lifestyle, and not everyone will understand that this is not a burden, not forced. you are able to adapt to any physical changes, from food and apartment to clothes, workouts and weight. it's like you are changing subtly every day. just don't pay attention if someone ignorantly considers it insignificant.

thanks for the reading!

dividers by @strangergraphics-archive, all images are not mine

[gffa]

When it comes to Jedi discourse I think a lot depends on the amount of sympathy behind a statement there is. For example, "The Jedi have been corrupted by this war." is something Lucas has said, but it's in the context of how they were drawn into a trap, they were forced into roles that they were never meant to be, there's sympathy there for how the only choices here are shitty ones. "Do they compromise their morals (to fight in this war) or does everyone die and it's pointless anyway?" is basically what he said. I agree with that! But I have seen many people say, "The Jedi became corrupted by the war." and they mean it as the Jedi no longer cared about people, only themselves, they were only looking out for themselves, they were making selfish choices. There's no sympathy for the rock-and-a-hard-place situation the Jedi were in, and I disagree with that and I think that's what a lot of people are arguing back against. "They allied themselves with a corrupt government!" is another one--like, yeah, the Republic government wasn't great! But, when I say that the Separatists were worse, it's not because I'm refusing to admit the Republic had any fault, I'm saying it because that's basically the choice laid out in front of them--either you help the Republic or you let the Separatists take over, who were committing war crimes on screen. I do think the Jedi were hamstrung by their connection to the Republic! I just also think the alternative was worse, that the whole structure of Star Wars as a story was designed to hem them into this impossible choice (in as much as Star Wars is about the Jedi, when they're very much not the core of the story), that they couldn't find better options because the story wasn't set up to allow that. Could the Jedi have handled Anakin better? Ehhh, I think that's hard to say because the story itself doesn't present that, so making hard proclamations about what they did/didn't do wrong is reading into something the story didn't address. The story is about Anakin refusing to emotionally accept Jedi teachings--can we read beyond that and say there were ways the Jedi failed him? I think you can and some of them are fair (and some of them aren't), that it's a fun conversation to have, but that it's not what the narrative intention is, if we're talking about actual narrative intention. The narrative intention is that Anakin, though very human in his failings and Lucas clearly has so much affection for his Blorbo, failed to learn what he needed to learn. But there, too, I think a lot depends so much on how much sympathy comes across for the choices being made. I don't think we're meant to see Anakin as someone we can't relate to, Lucas even says that Anakin is a victim in TPM (of the Hutts and Watto, to be clear), I don't think criticism of Anakin can come without that he was trying, that he did genuinely love people. The ending of ROTJ doesn't work without us wanting for Anakin to find the good in himself! That we knew had to be there all along. So much comes down to how much sympathy there is in the criticism, how much sympathy there is for the reasons why any given character chooses the paths they do, and that's where a lot of disconnect comes from. So much Jedi criticism is done in the vein of saying, "They failed." and meaning it as an accusation of how a better choice was super obvious. But if you say, "They failed." in the sense that there was no way out of the trap that they could have possibly forseen, given the circumstances, that they did their best and they shouldn't have to be perfect to be good, then I'm all the way onboard! It's about how much sympathy there is for the context around a given character's choices and what the story allowed for them. I have no issue with saying the Jedi failed in the war, that they became corrupted by it, that their connection to the Republic led to their genocide, because I don't think the Jedi were bad for it, I think they made the best choices they could in the worst situation.

[lananiscorner]

Coldest hot take that ever took, but if people can understand the meaning of the word "nostalgia" and the sentiment of "god, remember when we were kids and our biggest worry in the world was whether we could have ice cream for dessert after dinner?", then they should be able to understand the urge to consume something that hearkens back to a time when the world seemed simpler (it never was, you just had adults taking over lots of shit for you and shielding you from the worst, ideally). A time when it was good enough for you to just exist and have fun and maybe learn about the importance of courage and friendship and kindness.

Also, I think a lot of the stigma around adults consuming media for kids is that puritanical panic around "but what if these adults are gonna corrupt/groom/abuse our kids???" to which all I can say is:

1) adults who want to do that will find a way to do it even without watching My Little Pony or Steven Universe or whatever.

2) Not every adult who consumes media for kids is a pedo. See the entire topic of this post.

3) You SHOULD want your kids to interact in spaces where there are adults around as well, because learning how to interact with people who are not the same age/ethnicity/affiliation as you is actually a really important life skill.

4) It will help them learn what healthy interactions with adult strangers look like, which will make it easier for them to notice when an interaction is not healthy (e.g. why is this one user so eager to get a picture of what I'm wearing today, none of the others have ever asked me for that).

5) By having adult strangers around that are not affiliated with their parents in any way, they will have someone to reach out to in case they are actually, in real life, being groomed or abused by someone they don't trust to report to their parents (e.g. dad's best friend, mom's sister, the teacher both their parents get along with so well, etc.)

"Fun" trivia: Many years ago, my mom and I used to be part of a massive anime forum/art posting site where the average age was something like 13 or so, and thanks to both of us commenting on art work a lot, we became "that one nice lady who always says what she likes about my art" and eventually "the one nice lady who's been nice enough for long enough that I want to DM her". And you would not believe the sheer amount of kids we ran into who lived in very troubled (and sometimes seriously dangerous) homes, who did not feel safe talking to their parents and who sometimes had no frame of reference for how stuff that RL adults did to them was wrong until they interacted with us in comments and DMs and realized what healthy interactions with adults at a respectful distance looked like.

Trying to remove adults who are not being creeps from fandoms for media for kids helps exactly no one other than the actual creeps who will simply pretend that they are 12 themselves.

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. This may sound a little dumb, but you are revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step !

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

(this used to also say airports, but i've been told it's way too high risk as it's considered a federal crime. Thanks for letting me know)

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. If you can't, buy a gun. (Remember Alabama has a 99% acceptation rate, you can get one in 10 minutes.) I hate firearms, but the enemy will have them too. Arm yourself.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SAFE & SOUND — part 2

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: 13k

MASTERLIST

Warmth.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the warmth of the sun on your face, its golden light filtering through the gaps in the trees. You blink against the brightness, disoriented for a moment as you sit up abruptly. That’s when you realise your head had been resting on Jungwon’s lap.

He’s still there, sitting exactly where you left him, his blade resting against the wooden railing. His posture is stiff, and there are faint shadows under his eyes, but his gaze remains focused on the treeline, sharp and unwavering.

“You didn’t sleep,” you say, your voice hoarse from disuse. It’s not a question—it’s an observation, one that feels heavier than it should.

He glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t want to risk it,” he says simply, as though staying awake all night was no big deal.

Your brow furrows, guilt creeping into your chest. “I thought we were switching shifts.”

He shrugs, leaning back slightly against the railing. “You looked like you needed it more.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He barely knows you, yet he gave up his rest so you could have yours. The realisation sits uncomfortably, making your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, the word feeling inadequate. “But you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his tone light but firm. “It’s fine, I didn’t think i would’ve been able to sleep anyway.”

The camp below begins to stir, the others waking slowly as the day takes hold. You glance down, watching as Sunoo stretches lazily, Sunghoon stokes the embers of the dying fire, and Jay mutters something under his breath, clearly not a morning person.

“You should get down there,” Jungwon says, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “Grab something to eat before they take it all.”

“What about you?” you ask, still uneasy with the thought of him staying awake all night.

“I’ll eat later,” he says, waving off your concern as he finally stands, stretching his arms above his head. “Someone has to keep an eye on things while everyone else sleeps in.”

For a moment, you consider arguing, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s not worth it. Jungwon’s sense of responsibility runs deeper than you realised, and while it frustrates you, it’s also hard not to respect it.

“Alright,” you say finally, climbing down the ladder. But as you reach the ground and glance back up at him, the faint guilt lingers.

You sit by the dying fire, its faint warmth barely reaching your skin as the morning unfolds around you. Despite the ache in your body and the exhaustion clawing at your mind, you can’t stop your eyes from darting across the camp, taking in the subtle movements of the group. 

There’s a rhythm to them, an unspoken flow in the way they interact, as though every task and gesture has already been decided without a single word being spoken. It’s not chaos, not the haphazard scramble you’re used to seeing in desperate survivors. It’s something else. Something deliberate.

The longer you watch, the clearer it becomes that they aren’t just a random assortment of people who happened to survive together. The dynamics of this group, odd as they may be, seem to work, each person carrying out a role that seems as vital as breathing. 

You hate to admit it, but it intrigues you. There’s a part of you—a part you thought you buried—that wants to understand how they make it work. Against your better judgment, you can feel your curiosity growing, clawing at you for answers.

One thing, however, is abundantly clear: Jungwon is the leader.

You spot him high up on the watchtower, his silhouette outlined against the soft glow of the rising sun. His arms are crossed, his posture relaxed but alert as he surveys the camp below. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t bark orders, yet the others seem to fall into line as if guided by an invisible tether.

“Hey,” Sunoo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, jolting you slightly. He’s seated across from you, fiddling with a dented tin cup and flashing one of his easy, disarming smiles. “Jungwon figured that if you’re going to be staying, it’d be better to let you in on how things work around here.”

Staying. You’re not entirely sure about that.

The idea of staying with a group, of being around people again, stirs something uneasy inside you. It’s not a fear of them—it’s a fear of what comes with them. The horror of your past still clings to you like a second skin, a constant reminder of what it means to care, to hope, and then to lose. You’re not sure you’re ready to open yourself up to that again.

Because staying with people means watching them die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

Not to say this group will meet the same fate—but in this world, there’s no guarantee of survival, no matter how capable or united they seem. Death isn’t a possibility; it’s an inevitability. The only question is when.

You’ve seen it before—how quickly things can go wrong. How one misstep, one unlucky moment, can unravel everything. Staying means becoming a part of something, and a part of you wonders if you’ve got anything left to give. After all, what’s the point of building something that will inevitably collapse?

“It’ll help you understand why we do what we do,” comes another voice from behind. You start slightly, not having noticed Jungwon’s approach. He settles on the log beside you, his presence calm yet commanding, as if he’s somehow taken control of the conversation without trying.

Sunoo leans forward, his grin widening. “Alright, listen up. Starting with our fearless leader over here—Jungwon.” He gestures dramatically, and Jungwon rolls his eyes, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s our strategist, the one who keeps us alive by figuring out where to go, when to move, and how to deal with… well, everything.”

Jungwon exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Someone has to keep you lot in line,” he says dryly, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Whatever you say, captain,” Sunoo replies, offering a mock salute before turning his attention to Heeseung. 

The man sits at the edge of camp, methodically sharpening a blade. “Next, we’ve got Heeseung, our scout and tracker. He’s got the best eyes out of all of us. If there’s something—or someone—out there, he’ll find it first.”

“And that grump over there?” Sunoo gestures toward Jay, who’s seated a short distance away, carefully cleaning his pistol with a precision that borders on obsessive. “Jay’s our long-range shooter. Best shot we’ve got. He’d never admit it, but he’s saved all our asses more times than we can count.”

“Jake,” Sunoo continues, pointing toward the man currently inspecting a med kit, “is our medic. If you get hurt, he’s the one you want patching you up. And don’t worry, he actually knows what he’s doing, and not just throwing plasters on everything hoping for the best.”

Jake smirks faintly, his hands moving deftly as he tosses a roll of bandages into the kit. “I was in pre-med before all this,” he says, his tone light but tinged with a quiet seriousness. “It’s not anything impressive, but it’s enough to keep us alive. Just don’t make me work too hard, alright?”

“And then there’s Sunghoon,” Sunoo says, his tone growing slightly more dramatic, “our weapons expert and close-range fighter. If it comes down to it, he’s the one who’ll keep the rest of us breathing.”

Sunghoon glances up from where he’s tinkering with a makeshift blade. “And by ‘close-range fighter,’ he means I’m the one who has to deal with the messy stuff,” he says dryly, though there’s a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“And then there’s me,” Sunoo adds, placing a hand on his chest with mock seriousness. “Diplomat. Negotiator. The one who talks us out of—or into—trouble, depending on the situation.”

“Mostly into trouble,” Jake interjects, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.

Sunoo waves him off with an exaggerated sigh before turning to the cheekiest of the group. “And last but not least, Ni-ki, our little magic hands. If it’s broken, he can fix it. If it’s running, he can make it run faster.”

Ni-ki, who’s crouched by the van inspecting its undercarriage, glances up briefly. “Yeah, and if you want it to work, don’t touch it,” he says, his tone sharp but not entirely unfriendly.

The pieces start to fall into place, the dynamic clicking in a way that almost makes sense. You find yourself both impressed and uneasy, the thought of fitting into something so cohesive feeling alien to you.

Sunoo tilts his head, his gaze meeting yours. “And you? What about you?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve been on your own for so long, your only role has been survival. You’ve never had to think about what you could bring to the table—only about what you could take to stay alive. And in that sense, staying would be a terrible idea.

Then again, these people clearly know what they’re doing. It doesn't hurt to be around people that will keep you alive.

“I guess… I’m figuring that out,” you say finally, your voice quieter now.

Sunoo studies you for a moment before nodding, his grin softening. “Stick around long enough, and we’ll figure it out too.”

About three days have passed in their camp, and you’re beginning to entertain the possibility of staying with them. They work well together, almost seamlessly. It’s not something you just discovered, but the more you witness their dynamics, the more in awe you are. 

You can’t help but wonder: if the community building you were part of had been like this, would it have fallen the way it did? Maybe with them, you finally have a real shot at staying alive.

Most of them seem to have opened up to the idea of you sticking around—at least, you think they have. Truthfully, the only people who’ve expressed any contentment with your presence are Sunoo and Jake. But that’s likely because they’re the ones you’ve spent the most time with. They’re always in camp, managing supplies and rations, keeping the place running while the others head out.

And, of course, because you’re not allowed to leave camp. Orders from Jungwon—though you suspect Jay had a hand in that decision too. You figure it’s less about keeping you safe and more about making sure you don’t fuck up their rhythm.

Speaking of Jungwon, you’ve noticed something about the way the group operates: his words hold a lot of weight here. And not just because he’s the leader.

Even after spending the last few nights on watch with him, sharing quiet conversations under the stars while the others slept, you still haven’t quite figured it out. There’s an ease to the way he interacts with the group, a quiet authority that doesn’t need to be forced.

Every decision, every movement, seems to flow through him first. But it’s not in a micromanaging or authoritarian way. It’s just… natural. The others look to him, wait for him to weigh in, like his judgment is the glue holding them together. He doesn’t shy away from it either, even when it’s clear the burden weighs heavily on him. 

Whatever this group’s flaws, it’s clear Jungwon holds them together, even at the expense of himself. And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to understand why.

He’s not the leader because he demands it—but because the others trust him to be. 

It works for them, clearly. They function like a well-oiled machine, each person playing their role with practiced efficiency. But if you’re being honest, you find it a little risky.

To have everyone’s lives hinge on one person’s decisions? To place that much responsibility on a single set of shoulders?

It’s a dangerous gamble. For even the strongest leaders have their breaking point. And if Jungwon ever falters, you wonder what will happen to the rest of them.

You’ve also learned that they only leave the camp unattended during high-stakes expeditions, like the one back in the city. Other than that, it’s almost always Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, or Jay who take turns heading out. And even then, they only leave when it’s absolutely necessary.

Not to hunt. Not to scavenge.

They don’t hunt. They’re surviving off the food they stole when they escaped The Future.

It’s a startling revelation, one that lingers in the back of your mind every time you watch them ration out supplies. Even though you know Heeseung is perfectly capable of hunting, they don’t take the risk.

No, when they go out, it’s not for food or water. It’s to cover their tracks and secure the perimeter. To ensure that no trace of their last expedition leads anyone back to this camp, which you suspect is also another reason why they don’t let you leave. 

Ni-ki is harder to figure out. He’s a wild card—sometimes he goes out when needed, but otherwise, he stays behind to keep watch. These past few days, though, Jay has been staying in camp too, and it’s clear he’s still wary of you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. He doesn’t sleep when you’re on watch and makes sure you’re never alone with any of the others for too long.

Aside from Jungwon, Jake, and Sunoo, you haven’t exchanged many words with the rest. Even when everyone’s in camp, the conversations are minimal.

Most of them don’t like talking about their lives before the world fell apart. And you understand. What’s the point in reminiscing about a time that no longer exists? It only makes the loss worse, reminding you of everything you could have had.

Well, most of them feel that way—except for Sunoo.

He talks endlessly, filling the silences around camp with anecdotes and bits of his past. You’ve learned from helping him manage supplies that he was in law school before everything fell apart. It makes sense, given how much he talks. He’s always negotiating, always diffusing tension with his words.

When he asked you what you did before the world ended, you kept it vague, telling him you were in school too.

And yet, despite the distance, they’ve started treating you like one of their own. It’s been a long time since you’ve gone days without starving, and for the first time in forever, you almost feel like you’ve found a safe haven.

But before you even have the chance to fully sit with the idea of staying, your attention is drawn to Jungwon, who’s making his way over to Heeseung. His movements are careful, deliberate, and the moment they begin talking, it’s clear the conversation isn’t meant for everyone’s ears. Still, their words are loud enough to reach you from where you’re sitting by the logs.

“Heeseung, how’s our food situation?” Jungwon asks, his expression serious, his brows furrowed in thought.

Heeseung glances around briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the camp before leaning in closer to Jungwon. “We’ve depleted almost everything we took from The Future. With our current resources, it’ll last us about a week.” He pauses, then adds in a lower voice, “Well, less now that we have…”

Heeseung’s gaze shifts toward you, and you realise a second too late that you’ve been staring. Your eyes meet his, and he stiffens, clearly caught off guard by your attention. His words trail off, but the meaning behind them hangs in the air, unspoken yet deafeningly clear.

A wave of guilt washes over you, sharp and overwhelming.

That’s right. You’re just another mouth for them to feed. Another person whose survival they’re now responsible for.

You hadn’t thought about it before, not really. But now, it hits you like a freight train. Every bite you take, every resource you use—it’s something they can’t spare, something that might have kept one of them alive just a little longer.

And that triggers something in you.

You lower your gaze, suddenly unable to hold Heeseung’s. The weight of your presence in their camp feels heavier than ever, and the resolve you thought you’d solidified earlier begins to shift.

Staying with them, trusting them, letting them trust you—it’s not just about your own safety anymore. It’s about what your presence costs them. And that’s not something you can ignore.

So, you make up your mind there and then.

The next opportunity you get, you’ll leave. Leave and never turn back.

They don’t entirely trust you, but they don’t distrust you enough to keep you at arm’s length, either. They let you into their camp, shared their food, their fire. They even explained how they work together, the roles they each play. Yet, you remain an outsider, lingering on the edges of their tight-knit circle. And you know, deep down, that’s exactly where you belong.

So when the opportunity arises—though you’re not sure when you’ll have a moment alone long enough to slip away unnoticed—you’ll leave. You won’t even take anything with you. Just slip into the shadows and disappear before they even realise you’re gone. No attachments, no debts, no goodbyes. That’s how it has to be.

But not yet. Not until you’ve made sure they’re safe. 

Despite your resolve, you can’t bring yourself to abandon them while the unknown danger you and Jungwon discussed the night you met them still lingers. Not after everything they’ve done, not after the way they fought to protect each other, to protect you. That’s right, you still owe them for saving your life and feeding you these past few days.

So you’ll wait. Watch for the right moment. Repay your debts. And when it comes—when the threat has passed, and the dust has settled—you’ll leave. Without hesitation. Without looking back.

But that selfless thought is, in itself, an act of caring—you just haven’t realised it yet.

Jungwon and Heeseung return from their quiet discussion, their expressions unreadable. Without needing to say a word, the group instinctively gathers around the fire that has long gone out. The way they move, as if summoned by some unspoken signal, is fascinating. No commands are given, no prompting required.

Just the sheer presence of Jungwon.

“We’ll have to send a team out to hunt,” Jungwon begins, his voice calm but firm as his sharp gaze sweeps across the group. “Latest before noon. If we leave then, we can make it back before dusk.”

Jake, sitting with his legs crossed, looks up sharply. “Hunt? Are we out of food already?” Concern threads through his voice, his usual calm demeanour faltering just slightly.

Jungwon doesn’t answer immediately, his focus flickering toward Heeseung, who nods in silent confirmation. “We’re low,” Jungwon says finally.

“I mean, we do have one more mouth to feed,” Jay mutters, his tone biting as he glances at you. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, leaning back slightly, his arms crossed. It’s not the first jab he’s made, but it stings more than you’d like to admit.

You force yourself to keep your expression neutral, meeting his gaze evenly. If anything, you’re oddly relieved by his hostility. At least someone here is keeping their guard up around you. Someone who doesn’t want to trust you, who wants you gone. You can’t explain why, but you hope it stays that way. It feels safer, somehow, for at least one person to see you as an outsider—a liability.

It makes leaving easier to justify.

“Jay,” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp but not angry. It’s enough to make Jay’s expression shift slightly, though he doesn’t apologise.

The silence that follow is heavy, Jungwon’s words settling over the group like a cold wind. The reality of their situation is clear—if they don’t find food soon, things are going to get a lot harder. And none of them, not even Jay, have to ask for you to know you should be the one to do it.

“I’ll go,” you say, your voice firm despite the nervous knot forming in your stomach. All eyes snap to you, the weight of their gazes almost crushing.

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “You?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “You need every fighter you can spare here, and I can handle myself. I’d hate to sit around and do nothing all day, like a parasite. Let me help.”

“At least she’s self-aware,” Jay mutters under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Sunoo.

The air grows thick with tension, the subtle coo of morning birds the only sound as the group processes your words. Heeseung is the first to break the silence, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll go too,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “If she’s going out there, someone has to track. I’m not sending anyone out blind.”

Jay lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. “Yeah, no. If Heeseung’s going, I’m going. Someone has to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our faces.” His words are pointed, his glare fixed on you. It’s clear he doesn’t trust you, and he’s not about to risk Heeseung’s safety over it.

You bite back a retort, understanding his scepticism even if it stings. Heeseung glances at him but doesn’t argue, his focus already shifting to what the group will need for the trip.

“I’ll go too,” Jungwon says suddenly, standing up from the log. His tone is steady, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the calculation in his eyes. “We can’t take chances with this.”

“No, you can’t go,” you say quickly, before he can cement the decision. The firmness in your voice catches him off guard, his brow furrowing as he turns to you. The rest of the group falls silent, thrown by your sudden declaration. Usually, whatever Jungwon says goes, so for you to challenge him is clearly a first.

The awkwardness is suffocating, the weight of everyone’s stares pressing down on you. You take a small step closer to Jungwon, lowering your voice so only he can hear. 

“They need you here,” you whisper, your voice steady but insistent. “If you leave, that’s four people left at camp—two of whom isn’t much of a fighter.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “They can handle themselves. It’s not the first time I’m leaving anyway,” he replies, his voice calm but firm.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “But it’s clear they’re rattled by the food shortage. They’re anxious, Jungwon, whether they’re saying it out loud or not.” You glance briefly at the others, noting the subtle tension in their postures, the way their gazes flit to Jungwon as if waiting for reassurance.

“You’re their leader,” you continue, your voice soft. “You’re the reason they stay focused, the reason they trust they’ll make it through the next day. If something happens to you out there...” You let the sentence hang, the weight of the implication settling heavy between you both.

Jungwon’s expression falters for a fraction of a second, the barest flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he schools it back into something unreadable. He doesn’t respond immediately, and you think he’s going to argue. But then his gaze softens slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“And you think you can handle this?” he whispers, his voice softer now but no less serious.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “Heeseung knows what he’s doing, and Jay clearly won’t let anything happen to… well, him. I’ve hunted before, Jungwon. Plus, I know you stayed up on watch again last night. You need to stay here.”

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he exhales sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Alright,” he says, though there’s a reluctance in his voice. “But don’t take unnecessary risks. If it looks bad, you come back. Understood?” 

The way he says it, as if he knows you’re considering running, makes something twist in your chest. Not yet, though. Not yet.

“Understood,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms.

Heeseung secures his knife into its sheath with a nod, and Jay rolls his eyes but grabs his gear without protest. The three of you prepare to head out, the camp watching in silence as you gather your supplies.

Just as you’re about to step beyond the barricade, you spot Jungwon whispering something to Jay. Whatever he says makes Jay scowl, shaking his head in visible protest. But Jungwon’s expression hardens, his voice firm as he cuts the argument short. Jay sighs, clearly annoyed, but ultimately relents. His sharp eyes shift back to you, now carrying an edge of suspicion sharper than before.

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you as you leave, his expression unreadable. The weight of his trust—or maybe it’s his doubt—feels heavier than any weapon you’ve carried. But you push the thought aside.

The three of you move quietly through the forest, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees in patches of gold. Heeseung takes the lead, while Jay trails slightly behind, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. You stay somewhere in between, the knife in your hand an extension of the resolve you’re trying to summon.

The silence between you is heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint chirping of distant birds. You don’t speak, and neither do they, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s one born of necessity, of focus. Every sound, every shift in the forest, could mean danger—or an opportunity.

But, of course, the concentration doesn’t last. Jay, who you’re beginning to suspect thrives on friction, breaks the quiet with a pointed comment. 

“I don’t understand. Why does Jungwon care so much about you?”

Heeseung doesn’t turn around, but you can practically feel the exasperation radiating off him. “Seriously, Jay? You’re talking about this now?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of disbelief in his tone.

“What?” Jay retorts, his tone almost defensive. “Are you not curious at all?  They stayed on watch together a few times, and now Jungwon’s ready to risk everything to keep her safe.”

“I’m literally right here,” you snap, the annoyance in your voice cutting through the tense air. “If you’ve got questions about me, maybe try asking me directly instead of talking like I’m not standing a few feet away.”

Jay glances at you briefly, his expression unimpressed. “Fine. Why is Jungwon sticking his neck out for you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. “I don’t think he’s sticking his neck out for me,” you say, your tone defensive as your grip tightens around your knife. “What are you even talking about?”

Jay lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as if you’ve just proven his point. “Then why did he ask me to keep an eye on you? Make sure you come back alive?” he says, his voice low but edged with irritation.

Your steps falter for just a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He… told you that?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to something more uncertain.

Jay nods, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. Said you’ll be a great addition to the group or something. Like we don’t already have enough to deal with.”

You’re not sure how to answer—hell, you’re not even sure why Jungwon has been so willing to give you a chance. Before you can formulate a response, Heeseung cuts in.

“Maybe because Jungwon’s a nice person,” Heeseung says dryly, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Not like a certain somebody who can’t seem to shut up.”

“Nice? Jungwon?” Jay scoffs, his tone sharp. “He’s the last person after me among the seven of us to be nice, especially to strangers. You think this is just him being friendly?”

You glance at Heeseung, hoping for some clarification, but he keeps his focus on the trail ahead. Jay’s words settle uneasily in your chest. If Jungwon isn’t the kind of person to extend trust easily, then what’s his angle? Why is he giving you the benefit of the doubt when others—like Jay—clearly think you don’t deserve it?

The weight of Jungwon’s trust feels heavier now, more significant.

“Well, I didn’t ask for him to do that. I don’t need anyone keeping an eye on me.” you say finally, your voice a little steadier, though the uncertainty still lingers.

Jay snorts, his expression sceptical. “Yeah, well, tell that to Jungwon. He’s not exactly the type to give orders lightly.”

The tension between you hangs heavy in the air, but before either of you can say more, Heeseung glances over his shoulder, his tone calm but firm. “Enough. We’re here to hunt, not to argue. If we don’t bring back any game, it’ll blame it all on you.”

“Well, it’s her fault we’re even out here in the first place. Blame her.” says Jay with a scoff.

Heeseung’s gaze narrows. “I said that’s enough, Jay.”

Jay rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and turns his focus back to the forest ahead, the tension in his shoulders still evident.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, the heat of the argument leaving you rattled. But it’s not just the argument that lingers in your mind—it’s Jay’s words. Jungwon had specifically told him to keep an eye on you? To make sure you came back alive?

Why…?

Before the silence stretches too long, Heeseung motions for a stop, crouching low and studying a patch of disturbed earth. His fingers graze the ground lightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. You watch him carefully, impressed by the ease with which he reads the signs the forest leaves behind.

“Squirrels,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. He points to a set of tracks leading deeper into the woods. “A few of them. Probably moving together.”

Jay nods curtly, his grip tightening on the bow he’s been carrying. “We’ll have to be quick. If we miss, they’ll scatter.”

Heeseung glances at you, a faint flicker of consideration in his expression. “You’ve hunted before, right?”

You nod. “A few times. Mostly small game, but I know how to stay quiet.”

“Good,” he says simply, standing and motioning for you to follow. “Let’s move.”

As the three of you make your way deeper into the woods, the tension eases slightly, the rhythm of the hunt taking over. Heeseung’s calm, methodical approach is a stark contrast to Jay’s sharp vigilance, but they work well together—an unspoken understanding guiding their every move.

At one point, Heeseung stops again, holding up a hand to signal a pause. He crouches beside a tree, studying a new set of tracks. Jay moves ahead slightly, keeping watch, and for the first time, it’s just you and Heeseung.

He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly. “You’re doing alright,” he says quietly, his tone low enough that Jay won’t hear. “Not bad for someone new to the group.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His calm demeanour is a welcome contrast to Jay’s constant scepticism, but you can still feel the awkward tension hanging in the air.

Heeseung hesitates, the silence stretching between you as he seems to weigh his words carefully. His hand flexes around the hilt of his knife, a nervous habit you’ve noticed before. Finally, he sighs, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost reluctant tone.

“Jay’s not… always like this with everyone,” he says, his gaze fixed on the ground, as though avoiding eye contact will make it easier to get the words out. “The way he’s acting with you, I mean. There’s a reason he’s so hard to trust new people.”

You furrow your brow, confusion flickering across your face. Of course, it’s not unusual for survivors to be cautious—vigilant even—around strangers. In a world like this, where danger lurks at every corner, you either kill or be killed. Trust extended to the wrong person could easily land a knife to your back.

But the way Heeseung describes Jay’s distrust, it sounds like something more. Something personal.

“Why?” you ask cautiously, your voice low. You don’t want to push too hard, but you can’t hold back your curiosity.

Heeseung sighs, running a hand through his hair. “After our escape from The Future, we took in another survivor. A guy, around our age. He was half-starved, injured. Begged us to help him. Said he’d been on his own for months.”

You can already feel where the story is headed, but you don’t interrupt.

“Jay didn’t trust him from the start,” Heeseung admits. “Said something felt off. But the rest of us… we thought he was being paranoid. We were tired of losing people. We wanted to believe the guy was just another victim of this world.”

His voice grows heavier, the memory clearly weighing on him. “At first, it seemed fine. He kept to himself but didn’t cause any trouble.” Heeseung’s jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening as he grips his knife tighter. “But turns out, Jay was right.”

Your stomach knots, dread curling in your chest. “What happened?”

“He waited until we were vulnerable,” Heeseung says bitterly. “Waited until we were distracted. Then, he grabbed one of our friends, put a knife to her throat, and demanded our supplies.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“We gave him what he wanted,” Heeseung says bitterly, his jaw tightening. “But he didn’t let her go. He slit her throat anyway, right in front of us. And then he ran.”

The air around you feels colder, the quiet of the forest suddenly oppressive. You glance at Heeseung, his calm facade cracking just slightly as he stares at the tracks before him.

“That’s why Jay is the way he is,” Heeseung continues, his voice low but steady. “He was closest to her. Blames himself for what happened. Ever since then, he doesn’t trust easily. And he doesn’t forgive.” 

Your mind pictures Jay back at the camp, how his posture is always tense and hunched as though he’s carrying the weight of that memory with him every second of every day.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur.

“No,” Heeseung says softly. “You wouldn’t have. But now you do.” He looks at you again, his expression softer, though the pain in his eyes remains. “So, if he’s hard on you… it’s not personal. It’s his way of protecting us. His way of making sure it never happens again.”

You nod slowly, the weight of the story settling over you. “I get it,” you say softly, though the words feel inadequate. “I’d probably feel the same.”

Heeseung glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But trust me, if you stick around long enough, Jay will see what the rest of us do. That you’re not like him. That you’re not a threat.” 

You don’t respond immediately, his words settling into your mind like seeds in freshly tilled soil. The weight of their past lingers with you, a reminder of just how fragile trust can be in a world like this—not that you needed the reminder. 

The two of you rise silently, falling back into the rhythm of the hunt as you make your way to rejoin Jay, who has moved further ahead on his own. You spot him crouched behind a dense thicket of ivy, his form still but alert.

Heeseung is about to call out when Jay abruptly places a finger to his lips, his sharp eyes locking onto yours as he motions for you both to get low.

You and Heeseung exchange a quick glance before crouching, carefully shuffling toward Jay. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rustle of fallen leaves beneath your boots deafening in the tense quiet. The forest, once filled with the gentle hum of wildlife, now feels suffocatingly still.

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung whispers, his voice barely audible as the three of you huddle closer.

Jay doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on something beyond the ivy. Then you hear it—the familiar shuffling of feet, slow and uneven. The guttural moans and growls you’ve come to dread. But this time, it’s not just a few. The sound is overwhelming, a dissonant symphony of the undead. Dozens, maybe more.

“There’s something very wrong,” Jay whispers, his voice taut with unease. “Look at the way they’re moving.”

Your stomach churns as you part a few strands of ivy, revealing a massive clearing surrounded by towering pines. In the centre of it, a cluster of zombies moves in a strange, unnatural rhythm. They’re walking in a perfect circle, their shuffling steps eerily synchronised like ants trapped in a death ring.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The sight is wrong—so wrong it makes your skin crawl.

And then you hear it.

Voices. 

Your head jerks toward Jay, whose wide eyes mirror your own shock. “Did you hear that?” you mouth, barely breathing.

The sound comes again, low but unmistakable. “Round... them... up…”

It’s deliberate, controlled. Words spoken in the same hollow, rasping tone as the undead.

“They’re… talking?” Heeseung whispers, his disbelief matching your own.

You strain your ears, heart pounding as the voices continue.

“Saw them… around here…”

“Find them…”

Your blood runs cold. They’re not just words—they’re instructions. Coherent, deliberate instructions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hand instinctively grips your knife tighter. You glance at Jay, and the flicker of fear in his eyes confirms what you’re dreading. These aren’t just zombies.

There are people—or not people—you're not entirely sure. But something is walking among the dead.

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his weight slightly, readying himself for whatever comes next. “What do we do?” he whispers, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Jay’s gaze remains fixed on the clearing, his expression grim. “We move. Quietly. Back the way we came. Now.”

You don’t argue, your body already taut with tension as you begin to inch backward. The sound of human voices mingling with the moans of the undead burns in your ears, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on your chest. Whoever these people are, whatever they’re doing, one thing is clear: they’re more dangerous than the undead. And they’re looking for something—or someone.

The trek back to camp is a blur of tension and urgency. None of you speak, your steps light and calculated, careful not to make a sound that might draw attention. The eerie chorus of moans and human voices fades behind you, but the weight of what you’ve just witnessed hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens with every step, your mind racing with the implications.

By the time you see the familiar barricade of the camp, your legs are trembling—not just from exertion, but from the sheer adrenaline coursing through your veins. Heeseung is the first to signal to the others, his hand raising in a sharp, deliberate gesture that sets the camp into motion. Sunoo and Jake rush to open the barricade, their expressions immediately shifting from curiosity to concern as they take in your faces.

“What happened? Why are you guys back so early?” Jungwon asks, his voice calm but edged with urgency as he strides toward you. His sharp gaze sweeps over each of you, searching for any sign of injuries.

“We need to talk. Now,” Jay says, his tone clipped and serious. He glances back at the forest, his hand still gripping his bow tightly. “Inside.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t question it. The commotion quickly grabs the attention of the rest of the group and they instinctively assembles, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry.

Heeseung speaks first, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. “We found a horde. Dozens of them, maybe more, moving together in a clearing.”

“Okay, and?” Jake asks, his brows furrowed. “That’s not unusual. Hordes travel together all the time.”

“It wasn’t just a horde,” you say, your voice quieter but no less urgent. All eyes snap to you, and you feel the weight of their attention pressing down on you. “They were… whispering.”

“Whispering?”  Sunghoon repeats, his expression sceptical. “You mean the dead started to talk?” Sunghoon leans forward slightly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usually calm demeanour cracks under the weight of disbelief, his brow furrowing deeply.

“We don't know what it was.” you say, your voice sharp. “They sounded like the dead, but they were coherent words.”

A heavy silence falls over the group, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Sunoo looks between you and Jay, his usual light-hearted expression replaced by unease. “Are you sure? It couldn’t have just been… I don’t know, echoes or something?”

“‘Round them up,’” you say quietly, your voice breaking through the tense air. “‘Find them.’ Those were their exact words. It wasn’t just random sounds or echoes. It was deliberate.”

Jay shakes his head. “And it wasn’t just one or two words. They were coordinating.”

“Coordinating?” Jungwon repeats, his voice low and measured. He’s not panicking, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his concern.

Jake leans back slightly, his expression hardening as he processes your words. “You’re suggesting that the dead have started to talk? Or that people are out there pretending to be the dead? Why? To what end? That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters. “Why would anyone—”

“Doesn't matter. They were looking for someone,” you cut in, your voice sharper now as you recall the chilling words you heard.

Jungwon’s expression darkens, his sharp mind clearly working through the possibilities. “Did they see you?”

You shake your head. “No. We got out before they could.”

“For now,” Jay mutters, his jaw tight. “But if they’re moving through the area, it’s only a matter of time before they find the camp.”

The group falls silent again, the weight of the situation sinking in. Jungwon exhales slowly, his gaze sweeping over everyone before settling on Heeseung. “What did the clearing look like? Could it be a pattern, or just a random gathering?”

“It wasn’t random,” Heeseung says firmly. “They were walking in a circle. Over and over, like some kind of… ritual.”

The word hangs in the air, chilling in its implication. You glance at Jungwon, his expression unreadable as he processes the information. Finally, he speaks, his voice steady but resolute. “We don’t have enough information to act, but we can’t stay complacent. Sunghoon, Heeseung, start reinforcing the barricades. Make sure every gap is sealed. Jake, check our supplies. I need to know how long we can hold out here if we need to. Sunoo, Ni-ki—keep the van ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll keep watch with Jay,” you pipe up just as Jungwon turns to you, his sharp eyes meeting yours. His gaze lingers a moment longer than you expect, as though he’s searching for something—resolve, maybe, or doubt. Whatever he finds, it’s enough to make him nod.

Without a second to spare, everyone falls into a rhythm. The weight of what you’ve encountered hangs over the camp like a storm cloud. Nobody says anything, but the silence tells you everything. They’re scared. Jungwon included.

You climb the watchtower with Jay, the makeshift structure swaying slightly under your combined weight. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the forest in hues of orange and gold. The beauty of it feels jarring against the tension in the air, a cruel reminder of the world that once was.

Behind you, you hear the faint sizzle of the campfire, now reduced to embers and smoke despite the night’s cold settling over the camp. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the smart move. Light and smoke would only draw attention, and right now, attention is the last thing any of you need.

Jay settles into position, his bow resting across his lap. His expression is stony, his eyes scanning the tree line with sharp precision. You don’t speak, sensing the simmering emotions beneath his calm exterior. Instead, you keep your focus outward, your own knife gripped tightly in your hand.

The forest is quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that prickles at the back of your neck. Time crawls, every second feeling heavier than the last. Dusk settles in slowly, the golden hues fading into muted greys and shadows. Then, just as the last rays of sunlight vanish, movement catches your eye.

A figure emerges from the tree line, their silhouette hazy against the growing darkness. They’re limping slowly, deliberately, their steps unhurried, as they approach the gate. It’s a single person, their posture relaxed but not aimless. Something about them feels… wrong.

“Someone’s coming,” you whisper, nudging Jay with your elbow. He turns quickly, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure. The second he sees them, his entire body goes rigid.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. Before you can ask, he ducks behind the barricade, pulling you down with him. His face is pale, his usual composure cracking just slightly. “Stay down.”

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice low but urgent.

“It’s someone we took in. Don’t necessarily have the best relationship with,” Jay whispers harshly, his voice barely audible as his eyes remain fixed on the approaching figure. His expression is dark, and there’s an edge to his tone you haven’t heard before—something between anger and unease.

“A survivor you took in…” you begin, your stomach knotting as you piece it together. “You mean the one who killed your friend?”

Jay’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the figure. “Did Heeseung tell you that?” he mutters, his voice sharp but low enough to avoid carrying. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is he’s bad news, and he’s here.”

Your heart skips a beat, a cold dread settling in your chest. You glance over the edge of the barricade, your gaze snapping back to the figure, who is now closer to the gate. His features are clearer now—sharp, wiry, with a crooked grin that sends a chill down your spine.

“He doesn’t know you,” Jay continues, his voice tight. “You talk to him. He hasn’t seen you before. If he recognises me, it’s over.”

You hesitate, the weight of what he’s asking sinking in. Before you can respond, the man stops just a few feet from the gate, his eyes scanning the camp with a calculated intensity. Then he calls out, his voice loud but casual, almost friendly. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Jay gives you a small nudge, his expression hard but pleading. “Just keep him distracted, long enough for me to warn the rest,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. You nod, swallowing hard as you straighten, forcing yourself to step into view. Your fingers tighten around the knife in your hand, its cool weight a poor comfort against the fear knotting in your chest.

The man’s eyes light up when he sees you, his crooked grin widening. “Ah, someone’s home. Wasn’t sure if this place was abandoned or not.”

You take in his tattered clothing, the dried blood stains on his skin, and those eyes. Those eyes belong in a mental asylum if this were the world before.

“What do you want?” you ask, keeping your tone neutral but firm.

The man chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with a calculating glint that makes your skin crawl. “Relax,” he says smoothly, spreading his hands in a mock gesture of innocence. “I’m just passing through. Haven’t seen anyone in a while, thought I’d see if there were any friendly faces around.”

“This camp’s occupied,” you reply coolly, standing your ground. “You should move along.”

For a split second, his grin falters, a flicker of something darker passing through his expression. But then the smile returns, sharper this time, and his gaze narrows slightly. “Fair enough,” he says lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking for trouble. Just curious, is all.”

He takes a step closer, his tone turning smoother, more calculated. “Say… you haven’t seen a group around here, have you? Seven boys. One’s blonde. Another’s got a sharp tongue—calls himself Jay.”

The air feels heavier, and your grip on your knife tightens instinctively. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words settle over you, their implications clear. Your mind races, trying to calculate the safest response, but the danger in his tone is unmistakable.

“I haven’t seen anyone like that,” you say carefully, forcing your voice to remain steady. “And I wouldn’t know if I had.”

The man’s grin widens, but his eyes remain cold, watching you with unsettling precision. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone almost mocking. “Well, that’s a shame. Been looking for them for a while now. That guy, Jay, he owes me… let’s just say, a few favours.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with menace. Behind you, you can sense Jay’s absence, the faint rustle of his movements as he slips away to warn the others. It’s just you and this man now, and you’re painfully aware of how exposed you are.

“Like I said,” you repeat, your voice firmer this time, “you won’t find them here. So you should move along.”

For a moment, the man doesn’t respond, his gaze lingering on you as though trying to read between your words. Then he takes a step back, his grin never wavering. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time,” he says lightly, though there’s a faint edge to his voice. “Nice camp you’ve got here. Hope it stays that way.”

With that, he turns and begins to limp away, his steps slow and deliberate. You don’t lower your knife, your gaze fixed on his retreating figure, tracking every laboured movement until he vanishes into the tree line. Only when the shadows swallow him whole do you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your legs tremble beneath you, exhaustion and adrenaline mixing into a potent cocktail that leaves you unsteady.

“Is he gone?” Jay reappears and asks from behind you, his voice low and tense. He steps closer, his eyes darting nervously toward the gate as if expecting the man to reappear at any moment.

“For now,” you whisper, barely able to hear your own voice over the pounding of your heart. The words feel hollow, more for your own reassurance than his. 

You glance at Jay—his face is pale, his usual composure shattered. His bow has been replaced with his pistol, and he grips it so tightly that his knuckles turn white, as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

The silence between you lingers for a beat too long. Without a word, you start climbing down the ladder, your mind racing to piece together what just happened. Questions swirl in your head, each one more unsettling than the last. Why was he here? How did he find the camp? And most troubling of all—what does he really want? 

Jay follows, his footsteps slower, more hesitant. By the time the two of you reach the bottom, the rest of the group is already gathered around. Their expressions range from confusion to concern, a tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“What happened?” Heeseung is the first to speak, his tone wary but insistent. “What did he want?”

You glance at Jay, whose jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. His grip on his pistol hasn’t loosened, and his posture is rigid, like he’s bracing for something.

You shift your gaze back to Heeseung, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. “It’s the guy you told me about,” you say quietly. “He was looking for you lot.”

“And I don’t think he bought a single thing I said,” you admit, your voice even but laced with quiet frustration. 

Jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, but instead of relief, you see something else settle in his expression—panic, the kind that runs deep and raw. “Oh god… we can’t stay here. We need to leave. Right now.”

The fear in his voice startles you. You’ve never seen Jay like this, not the sharp, sarcastic, ever-sceptical man who’s never once let his guard down, and you’re suddenly more confused than ever. Then it clicks, the words the stranger said echoing in your mind: 

That guy, Jay, he owes me. 

He singled Jay out.

But why? If Heeseung was right, if the man was the one who killed their friend, why would Jay owe him anything? 

Your heart sinks, the realisation creeping in like a shadow. You glance at Jungwon, his jaw clenches subtly, the muscle ticking as he processes it all. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you says it all. He’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Jay,” Jungwon starts slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “What did you do?”

Jay’s head snaps toward the leader, his sharp eyes locking onto him like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. Then his jaw tightens, and you see it—the guilt, the weight of something he’s been carrying for far too long.

“What did you do, Jay?” Jungwon presses, his voice steadier now, his suspicion hardening into certainty.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Jay scoffs in mock annoyance.

The silence that follows is suffocating. Sunghoon steps forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Jay. “No, he’s right. Why would he be looking for us? Specifically for you?”

Jay’s head snaps toward Sunghoon, his eyes narrowing defensively. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m asking if there’s something you’re not telling us,” Sunghoon says, his tone calm but firm. “Because he didn’t just stumble across us, Jay. He knows exactly who he's looking for.”

Jay hesitates, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and you can see the internal battle raging behind his eyes. Finally, he lets out a sharp breath, his shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of him.

“I went after him.”

“You what?” Sunoo’s voice is a mix of disbelief and anger. “You went after him alone?”

Jay ignores him, his focus entirely on the ground as he continues. “It wasn’t hard to find him. He was camped out at the edge of the city, asleep, surrounded by our supplies. I took them back. All of them.”

“And then?” Jungwon presses, his voice dangerously calm.

Jay hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Then… I shot him. In the ankle. Left him there. The sound attracted the dead, and I ran.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You glance around the group, their faces a mix of shock, anger, and something heavier—betrayal.

“You left him?” Jake says, his voice low and incredulous. “You left him to die?”

“He killed her!” Jay snaps, his voice rising as he finally meets Jake’s gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of defiance and regret. “What was I supposed to do? He put a knife to her throat, and we gave him what he wanted. And he killed her anyway. You think he deserved mercy?”

“You could’ve told us,” Heeseung says quietly, his tone cutting deeper than if he’d yelled. “You could’ve trusted us instead of going off and doing something reckless.”

“I couldn’t!” Jay’s voice cracks, the raw emotion spilling over. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I had to… I had to make him pay.”

“And now he’s here,” Jungwon says, his voice cold and measured. “Looking for you. And you’ve put all of us at risk because of it.”

Jay’s shoulders sag, the weight of Jungwon’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. “I didn’t think he’d survive,” he admits quietly, his voice barely audible.

“Well, he did,” Jake snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface. “And now he’s got a grudge and knows exactly where to find us.”

Part of you understands Jay’s anger, his grief. The sheer weight of what they’d lost—what that man had taken—could drive anyone to the edge. But the other part of you, the part sharpened by survival, sees the problem for what it is. Heeseung is right—it was reckless. This isn’t just about a chance encounter or a petty grudge. That man is here for revenge, and now the camp is squarely in his crosshairs.

Jay swallows hard, the fight in him extinguished. His voice trembles as he mutters, “I’m sorry…” The words hang in the air, hollow and inadequate.

The moonlight cast harsh shadows on everyone’s faces, highlighting the unease and exhaustion etched into their expressions. Sunghoon leans against the barricade, his jaw tight as he stares into the darkness. Jake’s hands are curled into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line. Even Sunoo, ever the optimist, looks pale and withdrawn.

Finally, Jungwon exhales sharply, breaking the tension. His shoulders square, and his expression hardens as he steps forward, taking charge. “We don’t have time for blame right now,” he says, his voice steady and commanding. The tone leaves no room for argument, cutting through the tension like a knife. “What’s done is done. We focus on what’s next.”

“And what’s that?” Sunoo asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“We leave,” Jungwon says simply. “Because if he comes back, he won’t be alone.”

The words hit like a hammer, and the weight of them settles over the group. Jake’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “You’re saying we abandon the camp? Everything we’ve built here? I thought we’d finally be able to settle down.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon replies firmly, his gaze sweeping across the group. There’s a steadiness in his tone, but you can see the weight of the decision reflected in his tense posture. “He knows exactly where we are, we can’t defend this place against a coordinated attack. And it’s not the first time we’ve had to pack up and leave because of circumstances beyond our control.”

Heeseung nods slowly, his expression grim. “He’s right. We’ve seen what people like that can do. And it’s not just him. There’s that strange horde we encountered earlier today. If he’s somehow connected to them—staying here is suicide.”

“But where would we even go?” Ni-ki interjects, his voice edged with frustration. “It’s not like there are safe havens just waiting for us.”

Heeseung pulls a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, its edges frayed and creased from frequent use. It’s a map of Seoul, though it’s seen better days. Parts of it are scratched out, and there are annotations scrawled in the margins—places they’ve scavenged, places they should avoid. As Heeseung unfolds it, you notice the heavy red crosses marking several areas.

“There’s nowhere to go but further north,” Heeseung says, his tone measured as he scans the map. “But that takes us closer to the demilitarised zone. That place fell to The Future the last time we checked.”

The tension in the group thickens as Heeseung continues to analyse the limited options. Judging by the sheer number of red crosses, it’s clear their choices are slim. The faint hope of finding refuge seems to dwindle with every second.

Then your eyes catch on something familiar—a road along the Seoul-Busan highway, just as it’s leaving the city. A rest stop is marked there, scratched out in bold red ink. The memory of that place hits you like a spark in the darkness.

“Here,” you say, pointing to the rest stop on the map.

Heeseung glances at where you’re pointing and immediately shakes his head. “No. That’s one of The Future’s outpost. The place is probably crawling with them.”

“What? No,” you reply quickly, your brows furrowing as you think back. “I was there. Scavenging. There was a gas station filled with supplies. It was too big of a place and too risky for me to set up camp, so I took what I could and left. But when I wanted to go back for more, it was overrun by the dead. I didn’t want to take my chances alone. But if there’s eight of us, it should be pretty easy to clear out if we’re careful.”

The words tumble out of your mouth, and for a moment, the group falls silent. You look up from the map, suddenly aware of the fleeting glances being exchanged between Jungwon, Heeseung, and the others. Confusion is written plainly across their faces, their unease palpable.

“When was that?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the silence, careful and probing.

You hesitate, trying to gauge the timeline in your head. “Over a month or two ago? Give or take. It was the first time I had to venture that far out in search of food. Finding that place felt like a blessing—I hadn’t eaten for days at that point.”

You’re so caught up in recounting the memory that you almost miss the look of shock that flashes across Jungwon’s face. His expression hardens, his gaze shifting to Heeseung, who looks equally taken aback.

“Y/N, are you sure it’s the same rest stop?” Heeseung asks, his gaze sharp and unyielding as it locks onto yours.

“Positive,” you reply firmly, though the rising tension in the air makes your chest tighten. “I think I’d remember the place that quite literally saved my life.”

Heeseung’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes flicking toward Jungwon. “Jungwon…” he starts slowly, his voice laced with urgency. “Wasn’t the last time we had to move camp to run from The Future about two months ago?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond right away. His jaw tightens, his expression darkening as if the weight of the realisation is physically bearing down on him. Finally, he looks at you, his sharp eyes searching yours for answers, certainty, or maybe even doubt. But all he finds is your unwavering resolve.

“Something is seriously wrong,” Jake mutters, his voice barely audible as he scratches the back of his neck. His gaze flits between you and the others, confusion etched deeply into his features. It’s as though he’s trying to piece together a puzzle where the pieces don’t quite fit. “If that place was overrun by the dead, and The Future was still active there, then…”

His voice fades into the background, his muttering drowned out by the rising unease. The tension among the group is palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. You’re equally as confused as the rest of them, but you can tell their confusion stems from something you don’t yet understand.

Jungwon’s expression hardens further, his voice low and deliberate as he says the words that send a chill down your spine. “The Future… fell?”

The statement lingers in the air, heavy and foreboding. Your mind races, trying to comprehend what he means, but before you can process it, the sound of shuffling feet cuts through the stillness.

It starts faint, like the rustle of dried leaves in the wind, but it grows louder with each passing second. The guttural moans of the undead follow, a haunting symphony of the dead. There’s no mistaking it—there are a lot of them, and they’re close.

Jungwon’s head snaps toward the sound, his hand immediately gripping the blade at his hip. His voice cuts through the rising chaos. “Ni-ki, start up the van! Everyone else, grab what you can and get on. Now!”

The group springs into action, weapons drawn as the moans grow louder, the shuffling of feet drawing closer. You grip your knife tightly, your pulse pounding in your ears.  The forest that once offered a fragile sense of safety now feels like it’s closing in.

“They’re coming from everywhere!” Sunghoon shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos as he points toward the tree line.

Jungwon moves quickly, stopping next to you, “Y/N, with me. We need to clear a path for the van to pass through.”

You nod, swallowing the lump of fear rising in your throat, and fall into step behind him. The first of the undead breaks through the undergrowth, its decayed face catching the dim light, its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto you with unrelenting hunger. 

“Stay close,” Jungwon says, his voice low but steady as he raises his blade.

The camp erupts into a flurry of motion and noise, the clash of weapons against bone mingling with the moans of the undead. You steal a glance at Jungwon, his movements precise and controlled as he takes down one of the creatures with a single, fluid strike.

Even as you fight, your mind is clouded with questions. The Future fell. The weight of those words lingers, gnawing at the edges of your focus. What could it mean? How could it connect to what’s happening now? The rest stop, the hordes, the whispers—none of it adds up.

Your thoughts are abruptly cut short as another zombie lunges toward you, its rotting hands outstretched. You dodge instinctively, driving your knife into its skull. The sickening crunch reverberates up your arm, but you can’t afford to dwell on it. Not now. That’s right, what’s the point of dwelling on the dangers of the future if you can’t even make it out of the present alive?

“Y/N, watch out!” Jungwon’s voice snaps you back to reality just in time for you to duck as another undead stumbles toward you. Jungwon’s blade flashes in the dim light, and the creature collapses in a heap. He glances at you, his expression unreadable but firm. “Focus. We need to keep moving.”

You nod, breathless but determined, and press forward. The path ahead is thick with the undead, their shuffling forms threatening to overwhelm the group. But together, you and Jungwon cut through the horde, each strike clearing the way inch by hard-fought inch.

Behind you, the van’s engine roars to life, Ni-ki shouting from the driver’s seat, “We’re ready! Let’s move!”

“Keep pushing!” Jungwon calls to the others, his voice unwavering. The van lurches forward, and you fight harder, carving a path through the chaos as the vehicle edges closer to the gate.

The group scrambles toward the van, the undead closing in with every passing second. One by one, the group leaps into the back, the interior modified into a wide, open space—likely Ni-ki’s handiwork. The seats have been ripped out, replaced with a carpet that’s seen better days but provides enough room for everyone to pile in.

You’re about to climb into the van when something catches your eye—a lone figure standing just at the edge of the clearing.

At first, you think it’s another survivor. It’s upright, still, as though it’s observing the chaos. But then you take in its tattered clothing and decayed flesh, and the breath catches in your throat. It’s a zombie.

But it’s not moving.

Your heart pounds as your gaze locks onto its face. The peeling skin and hollow cheeks are all too familiar, but its eyes—its eyes are clear. Not the usual milky, lifeless void you’ve come to expect from the undead, but sharp and disturbingly human. For a moment, you could swear it’s looking directly at you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, snapping your focus back to the present. He’s gripping the doorframe, his blade still in his hand, ready to help you in.

“Do you see that?” you ask, your voice low and unsteady, gesturing toward the figure.

Jungwon’s eyes follow your line of sight. His expression shifts subtly—confusion giving way to unease as his gaze locks on the unmoving figure. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but the tension in his posture tells you he sees it too.

“Y/N, get in,” he says firmly, his voice quiet but insistent.

You hesitate for a split second longer, your mind racing as you try to process what you’re seeing. The figure doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. Its eyes remain fixed on you, eerily still and unnervingly focused.

“Now,” Jungwon snaps, his urgency jolting you into action.

You clamber into the van, pulling the door shut behind you. The van lurches forward, the sound of the undead clawing at the sides as Ni-ki floors the gas, navigating the rough forest terrain with practiced skill. Inside, the group struggles to catch their breath, weapons clattering to the floor as they brace themselves against the jerking motions of the vehicle.

But you can’t stop thinking about the figure. You glance out the back window, searching for it, but the dense trees blur past too quickly.

Jungwon leans closer, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, gripping the side of the van for stability. “It wasn’t like the others. It didn’t move. And its eyes…”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze fixed ahead as if he’s already trying to piece together an answer. “We’ll deal with it later,” he mutters. But you can see the unease in his expression, the weight of what you both just witnessed settling over him like a dark cloud.

The van jolts over another bump, and you force yourself to focus on the here and now. The memory of the figure lingers, though, its sharp, human-like eyes burned into your mind. Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal—and the thought of what it could mean sends a chill down your spine.

Sounds of laboured breaths and quiet muttering fill the van as everyone tries to catch their breath. Sunghoon sits near the front, wiping blood off his blade with the edge of his sleeve, while Jake rifles through the med kit, his brow furrowed as he takes inventory of what’s left. Jay is silent, his expression dark as he stares out one of the small reinforced windows.

“So,” Heeseung pipes up from the passenger seat, glancing back over his shoulder. “Any idea where we’re heading?”

“Can we not have a moment of silence for the fact that we’ve barely escaped death? Again.” Sunoo quips, his usual sarcasm laced with exhaustion.

“Geez, don’t have to be all prissy about it,” Heeseung mutters, rolling his eyes as he slouches back in his seat.

“Head for the rest stop,” Jungwon says abruptly, his voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. His tone is calm but resolute, the kind that immediately silences any further remarks.

Jay’s head snaps toward him, his dark eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious. We don’t even know if what she’s saying is true. What if it’s not what she says it is? What if The Future is still there?”

Jungwon’s gaze flicks toward Jay, his expression unyielding. “We don’t have many options, Jay. You saw the map. Everywhere else is a dead end—literally.”

Jay scoffs, his frustration boiling to the surface. “And this isn’t? What if we’re driving straight into a trap?”

“Jay,” Jake interjects sharply, his voice uncharacteristically firm as he closes the med kit with a snap. “With all due respect, I don’t think you have any say in this right now.”

The tension in the van thickens as Jake’s words hang in the air. Jay glares at him but doesn’t respond, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looks away.

“We’ll approach cautiously,” Jungwon continues, his voice steady but firm. “We scout the area first. If it looks clear, we check it out. If not, we move on. But we can’t afford to keep running blind. We need supplies, and we need a plan.”

The group exchanges uneasy glances, but no one voices further objections. Jungwon’s calm authority seems to settle over everyone, even if only temporarily. You can feel the weight of their trust in him, even Jay’s, despite his reluctance.

You lean back against the van’s wall, your fingers brushing over the hilt of your knife as you try to steady your breathing. The memory of the lone figure from earlier flashes in your mind, its clear eyes locked onto yours. You push the thought aside for now—there’s no room for distractions when the stakes are this high.

The van jolts slightly as Ni-ki manoeuvres it over the uneven terrain, his focused expression illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You catch Jungwon’s gaze briefly, and he gives you a small nod—an unspoken reassurance, for now.

About half an hour drifts by, Ni-ki drives steadily along the uneven roads skirting the edge of the forest, the dense trees remaining close on the van's left. It’s a long detour as compared to driving straight through the city. But it’s safer this way—quieter. No one speaks, no one stirs.

Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Jake is curled up against the wall, his head resting on his arms. Sunghoon sits with his back against the van, his knife still in his lap. Even Jay looks like he’s finally let himself rest, though his hand never strays far from his pistol.

But you? You don’t sleep. And neither does Jungwon.

You both sit next to each other in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down on what little space there is between you. There’s an understanding in that silence—a shared knowledge of something far beyond your comprehension. Something that lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

This isn’t just about surviving anymore. It’s about staying ahead of someone who knows how to hunt you down. That said, sleep is the last thing you’re worried about.

“What do you think that was?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air, cautious, careful not to disturb the fragile peace inside the van.

Jungwon doesn’t look at you. His gaze is locked on a single spot on the ragged carpet beneath his feet, his fingers tracing the worn fabric absentmindedly. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, distant. “A mutation? I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s him?” you press, your heart beating just a little faster. You don’t need to explain who you’re referring to. The thought is already there, lingering between you both.

Jungwon’s hand stills against the carpet, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, he replies, “Maybe.”

That single word carries so much weight, so much dread. It hangs heavy in the air, settling deep in your chest. 

There’s no certainty in his answer. No confidence. It’s unnerving—he’s usually the one with the answers, the one who reassures everyone else that they’ll figure it out. But right now, there’s none of that conviction. Just tired confusion, vulnerable, almost hopeless. A stark contrast to the strong, commanding voice he uses when he speaks to the others.

It’s the kind of tone he never lets the group hear.

And for a second, you’re glad they’re asleep. Glad no one else is awake to see this side of him—the side that isn’t sure, that doesn’t have all the answers. 

Because you know, without a doubt, it would weigh on them. Everything Jungwon says, everything he feels, it spreads through the group like wildfire. That’s how much they rely on him. That’s how deeply their survival depends on his mentality—whether he realises it or not.

Jungwon exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “If it is him… then we’re in more trouble than we thought.”

The van jolts over a bump in the road, and Ni-ki mutters something under his breath from the driver’s seat, his focus unwavering. The silence stretches between you, thick with tension but not uncomfortable. It’s a shared quiet—both of you lost in your thoughts, both of you carrying burdens too heavy to put into words.

You glance at Jungwon from the corner of your eye. His posture is rigid, his arms resting loosely on his knees, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his exhaustion. He hasn’t slept since… Well, that’s the thing—you can’t even remember the last time you actually saw him let himself relax for a moment. His gaze remains distant, focused on nothing and everything all at once.

Without really thinking, you shift closer, the subtle bump of your shoulder against his drawing his attention. He glances at you briefly, his tired eyes flickering with surprise, but he doesn’t pull away.

Your heart is still racing from the events of the night—the man, the whispers, the horde that shouldn’t have been there. But now, sitting here beside him, the weight of it all feels a little easier to carry. Slowly, cautiously, you let your head rest against his shoulder.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. You wonder if you’ve overstepped, if he’ll pull away, but then you feel it—slow and hesitant. Jungwon shifts slightly, his body relaxing as he leans into you. His head rests gently against yours, his blonde hair brushing your temple.

Neither of you says anything. There’s no need to.

The hum of the van’s engine fills the space between you, a steady rhythm that matches the rise and fall of his breathing. His warmth seeps into you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside fades into the background.

It’s strange, this quiet moment of closeness. You’ve spent so long keeping your distance from others, building walls to protect yourself. But with Jungwon, it feels different. It feels… safe.

“You should rest,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely louder than the hum of the engine.

“So should you,” you whisper back, your eyes closing briefly as the exhaustion pulls at you.

A faint chuckle escapes him, more a breath than a laugh. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moves. You both stay like that, leaning against each other, finding comfort in the quiet, fleeting peace. And for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself forget the chaos waiting outside.

You let yourself breathe.

part 1 - rotten | masterlist | part 3 - whispers

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: my apologies if i missed any taglist requests commented under the previous part! my tumblr's not working like it's SUPPOSED TO. regardless, i should've noted down everyone. part 3 is a little shorter so i'll post it coming saturday 12am kst (maybe earlier if this manages to reach 200 notes hehe) enjoy!

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 @M1kkso @tinycatharsis @parkjjongswifey @dcllsinna

taglist open. 1/2 @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @strawberryhotlips @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon @l1s0ro @engurishu @opheliaas-stuff

non-gray/underlined = cannot tag

[nerdygirlramblings]

omegaverse 141

previous

The following morning, after formation, you have your squad follow you onto the trail that runs around base. The same one Soap had seen you running a few weeks back.

"You didn't tell us we be runnin' today, Sarge," Geoffrey says, barely concealing a whine.

You chuckle to yourself and roll your eyes. Glancing over your shoulder you ask, "When have I led ya wrong?" Your squad is quiet behind you. They may not want to socialize with you as an omega, but there's no denying you've been getting the job done. "Brought ya out here cuz I wanted to talk. And to do it without any alphas or other CO's around."

There's some muttering behind you, not loud enough to make anything out, but not quiet enough to dismiss either. You notice a change in the air around you. Though they're betas and have learned how to project their calming scent, most are still working on controlling their fear and distress. You can smell the slightly sour milk and rush to allay their worries.

You turn to face them and say, "You're not in trouble! We are not in trouble." You face the trail again and resume your walk, talking as you go, "But something's come up, and it impacts everyone." You pick up your pace ever so slightly . You're looking for the clearing you'd passed the first time you ran here. It's a little space set off from the main trail, big enough for a few people to camp or for a squad to meet. You want to get there quickly to have this whole conversation out rather than dropping breadcrumbs. Your squad deserves that.

Once everyone is off the trail and standing around you, you tell them about the offer you've received from the 141. "Oh my God," Molly whispers, awe in her voice. "There, like, the best!"

You bob your head in acknowledgment and respond, "Some of, yes." It's clear that your squad doesn't understand the full implications of you joining the 141. So you lay it out for them. "If I take this opportunity, they'll pull me as your CO. Captain Price said -"

A voice interrupts, "You mean you actually talked to Captain Price?!?" You smile self-indulgently remembering how awed you were when the man first approached you.

"Yes, and 'e said that it's too disruptive for any of the 141 to have a squad of their own. Apparently, we can be called out at any point, and be gone for weeks. It would leave ya without a commanding officer." You look at each member of your squad, meeting everyone's eyes. "If I do this, you'll have a new CO. I don't know who it would be, and I don't know what that would mean for your trainin'. 'At's why I brought ya out here. Wanted to get yer honest take on what this means fer ya." There's some uneasy shuffling as it seems no one wants to quite be honest about their feelings. You remind them that you're not like other COs, and that you're an omega. Not that they need the reminder about either, but it seems to help settle some nerves. "I know it's hard fer ya having an omega as a CO. I know the stigma it carries. While this decision is mine and mine alone, yer time here is impacted by it, so I wanted to know what ya think."

It finally occurs to some members of your squad that they can be honest with you. "Yeah, 's tough around base having you as our CO. There're still a lot of alphas who won't want us on their team because you're the one who is trained us," Connor says.

One by one, your squad shares how they feel about you joining the 141. Some are like Connor and recognize the strain it puts on their careers to have you as their CO. Some are like Molly, excited for your opportunity regardless of what it does for them. Some are like Geoffrey, recognizing how they've struggled and realizing that a different CO, a beta or an alpha who is harsher, will make their time in the military much more difficult.

You get the sense - from what they say and how they smell - that most of your squad have already accepted that you'll leave them. Some may be happy about this because of the way it might benefit them while others simply seem happy for you. You close by telling them to make their way to the shooting range to practice on the Glock 17s. You remind them that after range practice is lunch with the promise of a decision for them by the time you see them in the mess.

"An' I promise, if I do take Captain Price up on his offer, I'll still keep tabs on you. Gotta make sure you all make it through basic as brilliantly as I know you can," you say with a rueful grin.

Your squad disperses from the clearing, making their way in twos and threes back to base, but you hang back. You pull your phone out and call home, finally ready with a decision.

This time it's Mum who answers. She takes one look at your face and shouts off screen to Mama and Dad "We've got a decision!" There's commotion on the other end as Mama and Dad come into frame.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," you say apologetically.

Dad reminds you he's on glorified bedrest, "So either yer Mum or yer Mama is always home. This morning I've got both." He smiles, "But a call from you is never an interruption. Or, if it is, it's the best kind."

Mama nods and leans close to the screen. "So, what did you decide?"

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and release it slowly. Before you can tell them, Mum says, "Good fer you, love."

"But," you sputter, "Mum...I didn't even tell you-"

"You don't have to, dear," she interrupts. "I can see the decision in your eyes. You're gonna join the task force." You hear the price, and fear, in her voice.

Beside her, Mama nods and tries to hide her emotions. "We're proud of whatever decision you make. And while I'm not happy with how much more dangerous this is, I think it's the right thing for you."

Dad is beaming, but you see the tears caught in his lashes. "Pretty girl, we love you so much! This is such an amazing opportunity for you. And if it feels right, if your omega feels safe, this might be the best thing for you."

next

[svetamillss]

NSFW alphabet with her💋🫦

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f)

A/N: This is the first time I've written something like this, so there may be mistakes! Inspired by a similar alphabet with Thanos!

💋🫦💋🫦💋🫦

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

After sex, the girl will carefully take care of you. She will help you take a shower, change clothes, and also change the bed if necessary. In general, Hyun Ju is a dream.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

The girl loves all parts of your body, but she pays more attention to your breasts and hips, licking and caressing them, also leaving scarlet marks. She loves breasts and hands in herself, because you pay a lot of attention to these parts, shower them with compliments and so on.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Your girlfriend cums inside you or on your stomach, sometimes maybe on your face, but only with your permission.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hyun Joo has long dreamed of fucking you at work. But she is very afraid that you will refuse, and she does not want to be noticed by your colleagues, but, on the other hand, she wants to experience adrenaline.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

The girl had a relationship before you, not very long, but she is still more experienced than you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary: she likes to see your face, eye contact is also important for a girl, because through a look she can understand whether you like it or not

Cowgirl: she likes it when you can ride her and she has a great view of your breasts.

When the girl does all the operations, you will learn to do lesbian poses.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

She is very serious, but sometimes she can joke, especially when she sees your cute face.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As a true lady, she always takes care of her hair, so you will always be comfortable.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

For her, sex is a very close and intimate process, she is always serious, but also very romantic, will shower you with compliments and also likes to tease you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

With the arrival of you, Hyun Ju began to masturbate much less often, except when you are not around for a long time or have not had sex for a long time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Cute nicknames, as well as the nickname "Mommy" as you often call it, as well as a kink to your flirt.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

She loves classics, so you study on the bed or on the couch, but sometimes you can also do it in the shower.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you put on underwear in front of her to seduce, your dirty talk with her, teasing.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

She will never hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She always gives you everything, but she also likes it when you give her a blowjob.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The girl is often slow and very sensitive, but sometimes she can be rude and fast, but all with your permission.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She doesn't like quick sex, because it's very important for her that you both enjoy the process.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

She doesn't like experiments very much, but she can do it if you don't mind it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It can last 3-4 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She teases you a lot, because that way your face becomes even more embarrassed.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hyun Ju is usually not very loud, sometimes she can't be heard at all because of your moans. But if you ask well, she's ready to scream.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

On one of your dates at home, she dressed up in a chic tight red dress and danced for you the best striptease of your life.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

7.5 inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, especially when she missed you a lot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The girl will go to sleep only after taking care of you and seeing that you are sleeping sweetly.

💋🫦💋🫦💋🫦

[rongzhi]

(Apologies in advance for typos.)

^ My original tags on this, but actually, I wanted to expand on my views about this a little bit based on some other collected musings I had about the XHS move (which—now that the dust has settled a bit, is it still going on? I don't even know). I'll preface this by saying that my own XHS has been pretty much spared of the wave of American signups, since my feed is mostly art/tattoos and not so much lifestyle/vlogs.

Mainly, I wanted to dig into that feeling of being "over it", a sentiment I've seen circulated on Tumblr by other Chinese diaspora. I think it's a IYKYK situation in some ways but I wonder if non-Chinese diaspora are precisely aware of why there is a underlying sense of caution and this side-eyeing toward everything going on. (To an extent, I think non-Americans who have to deal with us Americans dominating internet spaces probably also have some insight into this.)

Essentially, after that initial cute "haha" feeling of seeing people jump into a new space and meeting all the new people, for me personally, just from having run this blog for 4 years now, I feel distinctly aware that things could go wrong.

Others have said it better, be it pointing out the infantilising or inherent sinophobia, but there is a slant to that attitude of jumping on a new app and discovering that Chinese people can be funny, that they can be kind, that they are sociable and, in basic terms, "just like you", that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. Oh, you just realised that? People can argue that it was never possible to connect with Chinese netizens before all they want, but in fact, clearly, it was as easy as downloading an app that's free on U.S app stores. Next, you could say, well, there's cultural exchange happening now, which is better than nothing, so what are you so pissy about! I agree, I'm not saying it's a bad thing that some Americans are finally making some attempt to converse with someone outside of their Western, Anglo internet bubble (even if they did so as in the comfort of what is essentially another bubble, as part of a trend). Obviously there is a net good to a person joining XHS, and my wariness mostly comes down to this sense of "discovery" coming with a feeling that Chinese people are still getting lumped into a monolith. Maybe now the monolith is nice and friendly; now the monolith is cute and funny and helpful.

What happens if the Tiktokers realise that some Chinese people also are more socially conservative, or that there are societal issues that Chinese people still have to work through, which aren't ideal or progressive enough for the Enlightened Americans—then what? I've already seen the answer in smaller doses over the years, so I don't know about others, but this is something that I—maybe—hopefully just cynically—can't help but keep my ears tuned towards: the other shoe dropping. Again, for Chinese diaspora (and no doubt, diaspora of any culture in a similar situation), it's "if you know, you know"; we've seen the fickleness of attitudes. The xenophobia and sinophobia that run rampant in U.S society (and I'm sure other western countries, but I speak as a USian) is well known to us in a way that mainlanders often don't take heed toward. Even if there is a sinophobic backlash over anything that arises online, the brunt of it won't be felt by Chinese netizens but us Chinese diaspora who spend the most time in Anglo internet spaces. So, I'm a bit over it all. I've seen how interest in China can play out—for example, how learning Mandarin or being a fan of cdramas or hanfu hardly frees a person of their sinophobia or from regurgitating xenophobic talking points.

It's nice but naive to think that the majority of the tiktokers playing around on XHS right now, trading memes and basking in the numbers of Chinese social media, will truly self-interrogate all too deeply. If some of them seem to have only just realised that Chinese people are ~so nice~, how Other have they been seeing Chinese diaspora? Is that still the case? Will they necessarily make the same effort to know and listen to Chinese diaspora? (People in cfandom will know the answer).

Again, I think there's an overall positive to all this, especially in this ~political climate~ (altho I doubt the people who need positive interaction with Chinese people the most downloaded XHS lol). I guess I just wanted to add all this because because I feel like my first response was quite vague and on second thought, I figured I might as well try to unravel some of my thoughts and impart them to anyone who maybe had no idea there was this perspective to things. Call me jaded or no fun at parties all you like, but that's literally just how it is.

Lastly, I'll just say that from me scrolling douyin, I've also seen how people in China have reacted to the influx of Americans on XHS, so I can tell you a little bit of the other side. It also corresponds a little with what I'm trying (but maybe failing) to say about Chinese diaspora: the people who have been having as much/equal fun with the convergence of internet spaces have been mainlanders with no general dealings with Americans. In the past week, the bloggers I've seen who've been vocal/warning about Chinese people not bending over backwards to start speaking English all the time, or just following/kissing up to Americans because they're white*, have been Chinese netizens—mainly students—who live/study abroad.

* Yes, obviously there are non-White Americans, but white people are, as ever, uplifted the most by society on the basis of being white. We know this.

how do you feel about so many americans getting on 小红书?

[mscherub]

Right, so…you’re transported to a new world, and me being the science geek I am, I can’t help but think of all the bacteria you wouldn’t be accustomed to in Twisted Wonderland…so imagine how bad flu season would be, or just the spreading of sicknesses around the school in general

You better have a good immune system cause oml would it be put into overdrive. Anyways…here’s my twist on what the Diasomnia boys would do in order to be helpful in your recovery ❤️‍🩹

Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings!:

Sickness, obviously

Mentions of vomiting, snot, etc

To start us off…

It’s flu season in Twisted Wonderland, well you call it the flu, they call it something else you don’t even bother to learn. With you’re immune so shot and not used to the illnesses that spread around, getting sick more often that you honestly should, you woke up with a headache. Ok…nothing too serious, but you thought it to be a good idea to just take some ibuprofen equivalent in their world and “thug it out,” which ultimately lead to your current situation. Currently, you’re in the infirmary, having passed out from a raging fever and a disgustingly congested respiratory system during PE and you’re bed ridden back at ramshackle, at least until your fever goes down. Sevens bless Grim and the ghosts as they try and get you things to feel better, but you need some sort of intervention, and here comes you’re favorite person at the right time. How do they help you out?

Malleus 🐉:

For one, he’s surprised you called upon him of all people, but hey, he’s not complaining. He’s been training for this day somewhat because Gao-Gao Drakon-kun has taught him how to take care of things and keep them alive, though, granted it’s a lot different in this case…but he can get an A for effort, at least. The thought that counts

He’ll sit by your side and ask you what exactly are your ailments, how he can help, all just to gauge what he should do…your very different from a tamagotchi—

Pillows, blankets, anything else? He’ll magic it right your way, probably casting some spell on it, possibly a relaxation one, which would be nice for your predicament

Of course he’ll also have food covered as well, what do you want? Eat it or don’t depending on how you feel, he won’t be mad at all, he’ll just be confused as to why you won’t eat, he's pretty sure humans need to eat to get better quickly, but he won’t pry

He’ll scoff at the medicines your assigned to take and he’ll go make you ancient and passed down remedies from Briar Valley, claiming they work better…and awkwardly enough they do perform a lot better than what you were taking before, so that’s a win because maybe you’ll get better even faster

He’ll let his magic do the work for cleaning.

He’s also not afraid to get sick, he’ll sit with you, he’s more than happy to. No being grossed out here, if anything, it’s quite peculiar how differently illnesses affect humans

He’ll be smug about taking care of you. This is the first time he's done this for a friend, especially as one as good as you.

Lilia 🧚‍♀️:

Bros gonna fuck around with you as soon as he sees you, sorry. But yet again, he does have that paternal side to him, and you just look so…helpless, and he’s not cold hearted, so of course he’ll stay and take care of you

Don’t let him cook, don’t if you wanna live!

If you refuse to eat what he makes you he’ll start getting snippy and uncharacteristically strict, saying how you need to eat to keep up your energy so your body can fight away this illness. Just keep refusing his food, if you’re not hungry then that should be fine and rather easy, but if you are, have him go buy you a little snack. Better than you not eating at all he’ll finally conclude to

He’s also a little iffy with the medicines, again with the cooking, he'll try to make a medicinal item out of herbs and stuff…probably toxic instead of the intended purpose, so don’t take it, trust me. “Oh? My, my…I didn’t realize it would turn out to be a poison! Silly me. Good thing you didn’t have any beastie.” he will laugh it off.

But, he’d still give you the medicines you need, don’t worry. He’s serious when he needs to be, and you’re recovery is important to him right now

He’ll mess around with Grim and the ghosts as you lie in bed, having a little fun himself, but if you need anything, he’ll change up quick and be by your side

Blankets, water, pillows, he’s got it under cover

He’s not scared to get sick himself so he’ll stay close to your side, most likely gently cooing at you and relishing in how you’re just so cute like this

Be warned he will randomly disappear at times, but if you call him he’ll pop up in front of you, upside down as usual. But, he’ll make sure Ramshackle is quiet while you rest, don’t worry

Silver ⚔️:

He’s honored to help you out, so he’ll do so without complaint

When it comes to those he holds dear, he’ll become more protective and do what he can to help them, and you just so happen to be in that group of people, and especially with your state, you’ll be pampered. Since Silver is tasked with watching over Malleus, he’ll do the same for you

What do you need? Well, he’s already on it, actually, so don’t worry.

Food he has under control definitely, man has to save himself from Lilia’s cooking all the time and he’s learned from a young age, so whatever you want he’ll conjure up real quick. Eat it or don’t, if you’re not hungry he’ll understand and save it for later

Do be patient with him, however, he has his sleepy spells and make sure Grim is with Silver if he’s cooking at that moment, though trusting Grim to take over if Silver does fall asleep isn’t really a great option, either-

Oh! He’s awake again, ok, medications, yea, right. If he doesn’t forget to give them to you after he falls asleep, then you’ll be fine. If he does forget, remind him, he’ll apologize and be right on it

When he’s not tending to you he’ll do stuff around Ramshackle, his pet peeve is idleness, so…

He’ll clean up and make sure the rest of the inhabitants are ok

After that, he’ll go back to your room and sit in the armchair, he’s not afraid to get sick, and he’ll doze off along with you

Sebek ⚡️:

Well…he’s going to chastise you severely while he helps you. He’ll say he’s only doing it because you’re Wakasama’s good friend, and that’s the only reason why, not that he’s actually doing this because he wants to and he feels bad, no, definitely not that. “Human! I shall only provide assistance on Wakasama’s behalf!”

He’ll belittle you every time he speaks, and if you have a headache already, just get good at ignoring him yap

Again just like with Silver, his duty is to watch over Malleus, so he’ll evidently do the same with you in a sense since that’s what he’s learned. He'll wait in your room, sitting in the arm chair, most likely reading.

He’s learned to cook well enough for himself, obviously, due to Lilia’s cooking, so he’ll provide you with more nutrient dense meals if you ask him to. He won’t do it unless you ask, he doesn’t wasn’t to assume

Sebek will make sure you take your medications religiously until you're better, it’s your duty, and he always follows his duties, you should, too.

He’ll clean up here and there, make sure Grim and the ghosts are in line, and he’ll grab you anything else you could possibly want, again, not without some complaint. “Humans are weak creatures!” He doesn’t really mean it in a mean way…he’s just being honest 🤷‍♀️

He’ll try and be quiet while you sleep, but forgive him if he yells at Grim at all and wakes you up-

Afterwards he’ll probably get sick himself, feel free to make fun of him then, KARMA

IM DONEEEE! Sorry I took my sweet ass time with Diasomnia, oh lord…

Also, I realized I made each one progressively longer for each character as I progressed through the dorms, so…whoops 🧍‍♀️(I yap too fucking much-)

But hey, now I can start on a new series, just gotta come up with one- or, someone could suggest one if anyone has any ideas!

Btw, requests and asks are open!!! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

Master list

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[kaisaerinlover]

if you could describe kaiser in two words you would be forced to use the words mean and conniving, if you even dared to speak any bad about him that is. you darent even have a bad thought about him recently though, because he’s been ignoring you. he was so nice before? what happened? why doesn’t he like you anymore? is he too scared to break up? what’s going on?

kaiser can guess your thought process exactly, it’s funny really. funny how predictable and dense you are; it’s fine though. he doesn’t care, he likes you this way, panicky and anxious that he doesn’t like you anymore. he likes you a lot, that’s why he’s doing this, you know? after all, relationships don’t work for him unless he plays a little dirty with the other. manipulation is a staple of any relationship actually, or any sort of abuse. no one stays without toxicity, that’s not the way of the world. not the way of his world - and as far as he’s concerned, his world morphs into your world. when you choose to date him you unknowingly choose to abide by the laws of life he lived and continues to live by.

i mean, it’s not like he wants to ignore you (he does), it’s not like he wants to see how disgustingly despair filled you are every time he brushes you off like you’re nothing more than a stranger to him (he does), it’s not like he has a choice in any of this, he has to manipulate you, it’s just how life works (it’s not). if you were half as intellectual as he is, you would realise what he’s doing, but he thinks you should be thankful. thankful that he’s putting in this effort and going to these lengths just to ensure you won’t leave him anytime soon. he just loves you too much to let you go now. he let himself get attached to you, so this is your punishment. human emotions and attachments are the bane of his very existence, he hates them. he doesn’t like being so dependant on someone else, doesn’t like the way you affect him and his mood, hates feeling loved and hates knowing he has to give love in return; it’s difficult to learn after everything he’s experienced in life. this is your punishment for getting him so entranced with you. deal with it now, if you wanna date him this is what you get.

he’s a pretentious man, he won’t even label emotions as, well, just that: emotions. he labels them human emotions. he really thinks he’s way above them, knows himself as a god. but then again; it’s the opposite. he’s a subhuman piece of shit. what a complicated mind; any psychology student, therapist or simply just psychology interested freak would have a field day with him. but here he is instead with you. punishing you with his indifference for engraving yourself so deeply within his soul.

poor you, when he dismisses you the last time and goes to leave the house you break and cry. you cry like a baby, and he almost feels bad. only almost, not quite there yet, the face you make when you cry is quite beautiful, isn’t it? why does he do this to you? if he leaves you will he even come back? you can’t take it and you can’t risk it.

when kaiser feels you tug on his arm and hears your crying he smirks to himself before turning around. you’re easy; far too easy. he won. he turns around and stares at you, a stare so hard you swear it pierces right through you like a blade. “come on, d-don’t leave me-“ you somehow manage to sputter out between your arousing sobs. only a sicko like him could find something like this arousing, gross. his mask of nonchalance never slips though, what a crazy man he is, able to control and maintain everything; even his stimuli. control for the most part anyway. “hm?” he doesn’t even bother to give you a real worded answer, you’re not worth it are you?

kaiser is awfully good at mind games, he knows it, he’s enjoying playing with you. messing with your head, it’s even funner when he knows exactly what you’re thinking. you’re in shambles, to say the very least. all you can see in his eyes is contempt towards you. why is he leaving you? you don’t want that, is leaving you really so simple? so easy? such a mundane and effortless task? are you that unimportant he can disregard you and treat you like this without a second thought? is it because other girls are better? they have a knack for something that you just quite never grasped? how is that fair? he’s your whole world, hell you’re struggling right now with him being cold towards you for, in retrospect, a short amount of time. and he is yet to even bat an eyelash at the mistreatment he’s giving you.

his tone is brimming with derision when he opens his mouth next; “what are you talking about? dumb girl?” you feel so embarrassed, what does he mean? no, maybe he’s testing you, it’s a test isn’t it? to see if you’ll beg? you will, you would, you can, you’re going to, you’d do everything to ensure he stays. even if it’s degrading. dehumanising. even if anyone who found out how hard you begged for his love and affection would be disgusted with your desperation and drop you. you would do anything. “j-jus’ don’t leave me micha- i-i don’t even know what i did- please-“ you beg. and you plead. you’re so cute when you’re this desperate, playing right into his hands like putty. you’re priceless, adorable really. he has to put effort in to hide the smirk that wants to show on his face so badly. but then you say something that he’s heard a million times before. he’s heard you say it before too. but right now it pisses him off and makes him sick. makes him angry when you choke out through your tears a weak declaration of love.

“i l-love you-“ he hates it. he’s heard it so many times, from fans and empty headed fangirls, from you as well. but right now it makes him want to vomit. he’s angry, doesn’t know how to react to it in this situation. and it shows on his face. shows in his actions when he grabs you so roughly and smashes his lips into yours. when he pulls away, he’s looking into your eyes so deeply. you’re an idiot, you should know what loving him entails. he thinks you should shut your mouth. your admission made him feel guilty. god he wishes you’d just shut the fuck up; but his eyes are telling you differently. silently pleading for something he’s never allowed himself to want. and you can tell too, stupid as you are, you’re somehow able to read what he desires in the moment from his eyes alone. “micha i l-love you” you sputter out again. he licks his lips as he watches a tear roll down your cheek and feels his insides churn, flutter, disintegrate and whatever else as you confess to him again.

it’s rare, that he feels this way i mean, totally and utterly rare. he feels sickened at your words. filled with guilt. you really love him and he really loves you too, he can’t fathom why he insists on treating you in this way. he really can’t. and he can’t fathom why he feels so much guilt over it, because everything he does is for himself. he’s a self indulgent man; that’s why he’s even more confused when he instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear running down your cheek away. he lives for himself and to make himself feel alive, tending to you doesn’t exactly fit into the equation most of the time, so he’s not sure why is body is subconsciously moving to aid you. he’s not sure why he’s suddenly aching to comfort you. he’s not sure why he’s reconsidering what he did by now. manipulating isn’t nice, only an idiot doesn’t know that, and he’s no idiot. he’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet in your life.

and you, sweet you, you’re hardly a victim of this anymore. you’re letting it happen, sitting and letting him do whatever he wishes with you. you’re as disgusting as he is in a way. he might have you wrapped around his thumb; he might be a master of manipulation, but you’ve had so many chances to leave yet you haven’t. because you’re dumb deep down. dumber than what he takes you for. as he dotes on you in a manner that he perceives is against his free will, you instantly feel at ease and better. you forget everything bad he just did to you. forget the weeks you spent having to play guessing games to work out why he’s suddenly giving you the icy cold treatment, you give in to his whims and relish in the attention he’s suddenly showering you in. it’s not that you’re entirely lacking in self awareness, no, quite the opposite actually. you’re just convinced he’s not all that bad, that deep down he’s not mean at all, he’s not evil to the core. and as much as even he would like that to be true, he knows it’s not. he had a rough start in life, a rough childhood, a rough few years. he’s never had it easy - but he can’t pretend that he hasn’t had any chances to change.

as he strokes your hair and feels you lean into his touch, he ponders all of the opportunities handed to him on a platter to rebuild himself into something better. remembers how all he’s ever wanted is to be loved, yet he pushes away or straight up abuses the ones who adore him the most. in a weird self loathing way, but also a display of superiority, to show how everyone around him is disposable, how important he is compared to everybody else. he’s convinced he’s evil down to the very blood courses through him, every cell in his body, and you’re convinced he’s not bad at all. that this is all some weird ploy. you’re not entirely sure, you just don’t want to believe he’s mean.

neither of you are wrong. he’s not as kindhearted as you’d like to believe he is and he’s not as cruel as he hates believing he is. the truth is that you’ve rubbed off on each other deeply. that your empathy and grace has moved him and shaped his person into something new entirely, and how his narcissistic tendencies and manipulative nature have made you more susceptible to his, well, his something. malice? shenanigans? there’s simply not a word in english to describe this man. whatever goes on in the brain of michael kaiser is complicated.

and as he holds you, rubs his hand up and down your back as he finds himself holding you so tightly, he realises he almost regrets ignoring you for all of that time. making you believe he really doesn’t love you anymore when he really loves you more than anything in the world. only almost though, because he enjoys having you like this. vulnerable and cute in his lap, longing for his attention. his beloved girl, only for him, all his. he knows it’s wrong but he has to keep doing what he’s doing to you. needs to keep up the cycle of nonstop manipulation, or you might leave. he doesn’t want you to become self aware and leave him.

and as you listen to his heartbeat whilst leaning your head against his toned chest, feeling some of his hair fall atop your head, you feel content. even if you’re self aware already, even though you know it’s so disturbing and messed up to even feel anything except contempt about this dynamic, you feel at peace. you and kaiser deserve each other after all, you’re just too stupid to realise it. kaiser remembers your earlier affections, the ones he left unreturned. you’re an idiot, he thinks. saying you love him, it has dark connotations. it doesn’t bestow anything but misfortune upon you, but you say it anyway. “meine geliebte, i love you so much” he whispers into your ear, nipping at it. he can feel his heart beating against your soft cheek. he lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he was holding in. he feels tranquil too. this and soccer, this and hurting others, this and hurting you; this is what makes him feel alive. he feels alive. he knows he’s alive.

“love you too micha” you confess back, not like it’s much of a confession anyway, nor a secret. and as he strokes your hair gently and kisses your forehead, gives you these small gestures of love and tenderness in a rare moment of uncharacteristic softness, does these things for you as you confess back; he knows he’s alive.

he knows he’s alive because his heartbeat sped up a bit and he feels tingly inside. because of your words and your devote to him. he wonders if this is how you feel too. being gentle isn’t all so bad, but don’t get used to it.

you know not to get used to it, but even you can’t help but to fantasise about being a normal couple with kaiser.

not that either of you mind this, though. you thrive on the toxicity and uncertainty this dynamic provides, as twisted as it is. and at least you love each other. at least you’re pampered and provided with attention. at least kaiser found someone that makes him feel really and truly alive. someone he knows he can ensure won’t leave.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Just Caleb

Content: Some hc about Caleb cause my head is so so full of him ♡; SFW (kind of angst) + NSFW (small scenario); masturbation + foul language + non established relationship; non proof-reader

Note: Caleb is so so good, I thank them for creating a complete red flag, they just get me going. I hope everyone is enjoying him so far!!

Caleb, who had been waiting what felt like ages. He had forced himself to be taken by those who wanted to hurt you, just so he could protect you from them.

Caleb, who forced himself to become much more stoic and harsh. His expression always tainted with a mixture between resentment and, if looked closer, a constant and profound melancholy that was almost able to cloud the never-ending heartache he felt each time he held onto that necklace.

Caleb, who hid everything that reminded him of you. He even avoided going back home in fear of facing the fact that you were no longer there to greet him. Not only that, but he made sure to hide his old clothes in the back of his wardrobe, filling it with many uniforms as a poor attempt of putting out of sight the very thing that was keeping him going, that being the possibility of seeing you once more.

Caleb, who became a complete workaholic, spending his whole day around the Fleet, it didn't matter whether he was filling the huge amount of papers that needed his signature or that he was working out as if he was possessed. It didn't matter that the whole crew looked at him with both fear and pride of being under such a man. If only they knew that this was merely his way of forcing him to think about another thing, anything just to keep him away from thinking too much.

Caleb, who stopped cooking. After all, what was even the point if no one was going to eat with him (more specifically, you). He sometimes cooked, well, if anyone would actually say that taking a slice of bread with some bland soup could be considered cooking.

Caleb, who kept seeing you everywhere around him. He always had those flashbacks, constantly reminiscing about you. If he saw a small bird, he thought about you, your cheeks puffed as you complained to him about the way he treated you as a child. Then, if he chose to drown himself into his load of paperwork, he would remember the times when he saw you in your old desk, brows furrowed as you kept trying to remember each single thing you needed to learn for the hunter exams. Frustrated, he chose to simply lie in bed, leaving his colonel cap behind, he closes his eyes, hoping for even a single moment of peace, but of course he is unable to get it. Flashes of your sleeping face close to him come back, your little smile appearing on your face as you dreamt about something nice, or your constant movement during the nights that the two of you kept sharing the bed. God, his whole life was completely intertwined with yours, so how could he even hope for a second not thinking about you?

Caleb, who chooses to spends most of his time alone, not paying a single ounze of attention to his subordinates, much less to those who kept trying to pursue him just to try and get something out of him.

Caleb, who keeps getting desperate each time he remembers a single thing about you. This desperation leads him to keep trying to find even a small similarity between you and those around him. He may lock eyes with a girl with your hair colour, and suddenly, he was once again thinking about you, remembering your soft hair, together with that sweet and charming scent that came from it... He quickly snaps back to his usual self, accommodating his gloves as he focused once again on the work in front of him, eyes sometimes drifting to the necklace you had given him long time ago.

Caleb, whose mind sometimes drifts towards the times the two of you were still living together. Your rooms were just close to each other, being able to hear some of the noise that was coming from the other room if you simply kept quiet for some time.

It was already late at night, with Caleb just finishing his work out, he was already getting ready to go to bed. Just as he turned off the small light on his desk, he heard a strange noise coming from your room. Alarmed, he was about to barge inside it, scared in case something had happened to you, but soon, he realised what he had just heard.

It was your voice, weak, merely a whisper, but just enough for him to hear it from his own bed. Now calmed, he tried his best to pay no mind to it, after all, you were already an adult, and it's nothing weird for young adults to get... excited. Regardless of how hard he tried to pay no mind to it, he was still able to hear you, your soft moans echoing in his ears as if you were teasing him. Although he kept trying to ignore it, he just couldn't stop his own imagination, almost being able to see you touching yourself, your soft hands gropping and teasing your nipples as you rubbed your legs together... God, he even tried to focus by hitting his cheeks with his two hands, not like it actually worked, as he could already feel the tension growing under his pants. Still, he kept himself in control, biting his lip and trying his best to think about something else, anything.

However, as the time went on and your moans only became louder, Caleb's restraint finally gave up, moving his sheets to the side and sliding his hand down until he reached his lower half, removing both his pants and underwear and starting to move his hand up and down his shaft, biting his pillow to avoid leaking any sound in fear of you hearing him as well. As he heard your whines getting more and more high-pitched as you reached your orgasm, his hand started to move faster, closing his eyes and bitting even harder his pillow as he started to buck his own hips against his calloused hand, imagining just how good it would feel to kiss those pretty lips of yours, now all red and puffy from you biting them... He even had the nerve of thinking of your precious lower half, now all slick because of you using your fingers to tease your swollen clit until it made you cry from the pleaser, that single thought was more than enough for him to reach his high, cumming all over his hand as he kept slowly decreasing the ruthless rhythm he had set.

Embarrased, he got out of bed, quickly taking out a piece of paper and cleaning his hand, his mind now filled with a sense of guilt as he rushed to the bathroom inside his room to clean his hands.

How was he even supposed to greet you the next morning?

[parker-artio]

The idea of Steph being a med student cracks me up. Because this girl stays up all night beating people up, gets maybe two hours of sleep before she’s getting up for her 7am class on human anatomy.

She starts working in Gotham’s City’s ER as a volunteer student so she doesn’t have to take an extra class and can just take the test at the end of the year for the credit. One day she shows up and sees her patient is a thug she bullied last night while kicking his ass.

She might never show her face in his room again.

When she barely passes a test with a C- she wants to cry when Alfred asks how her test went, but Alfred reassures her, saying it’s good, and that she still passed. But Bruce always catches a stray or two when her major gets brought up. No way he wouldn’t.

Alfred: Congratulations Miss Stephanie, it might only be a C but it is still passing!

Steph: Thanks alfred but I feel like I could be doing better

Alfred: At least you’re sure you want to be a doctor. You haven’t dropped out and you’re passing your classes. That’s what matters.

Bruce at Wayne Enterprises in the middle of a board meeting, feeling a chill go down his spine: something just happened…

Plus there’s the added joke of her being called dumb, lazy, ect from Damian (he insults her so much I can’t remember them all rn)

Damian: What’s that Brown? Can’t shake your head in fear your brain will rattle around in there?

Steph thinking about her biology test tomorrow she got maybe 10 minutes of studying in for since it was announced last month: Shut the fuck up.

Thugs would hate to see her. Like genuinely HATE seeing her during finals season. They don’t know anything about these bats, but they all agree if it’s final season and you see a blonde haired bat in purple- you’re fucked. Run as fast as you can unless you want a concussion and her to ask where all your pain is.

None of the super villains in Gotham ever remember mentioning they have any kind of health issues, yet somehow she always knows. The purple bat who goes by too many names, just KNOWS.

Riddler about to pull the lever for something dramatic: Well you failed to answer my riddle so-

Steph cutting him off: Your skeleton

Riddler: wrong it’s-

Steph cutting him off yet again with a heavy sigh: Listen Nigma, you have to calm down for once. Your blood pressure hates you, slow down on the salty and fatty foods. Do you smoke? Because if you do, slow down on that too. Or just quit. And the actual answer is bare-bones. But synonyms of the answer should work too.

Riddler who’s doctor told him he was at risk for high blood pressure but ignored it: I- no… I don’t smoke.

Steph: …

Riddler: I quit years ago!

Plus she’d totally access Alfred’s medical records to learn little things about the others to annoy them with. She’d be elbow deep and learn that Dick’s left ankle was injured at 12 and is prone to injuries because it never proper medical attention because he avoided Alfred when he first got hurt.

She’d bring it up in conversation too.

Steph, after Dick pisses her off and she’s walking away: What your step, Boy Wonder, it’d be a shame if your left ankle got broke because of its fragility…

Dick unsure where she learned that: …what

The whole concept of her as a med student makes me laugh and I wish more people looked at it and thought about the humor and jokes that can go with her being one.

It’s peak comedy to me, I need more fics of her just being a broke college student who’s tired of thugs attacking her when she’s trying to study for her test on patrol. She’s sitting on top of W.E. Reading her anatomy book for her first class at 7:30 while her four other books are underneath. Why she has a test in all of her classes on the same day, she doesn’t know. Will she pass them? Who the fuck knows. But if that bat signal goes off again tonight she might break into the police precinct and give them a piece of her mind.

[bogor-o]

i don't think I've ever heard you talk about aym and baal in your mother au, do they exist? if so what's their relationship with ovidia and narinder?

OOOH im actually so glad you asked bc i have drafts on drafts of thoughts of the brothers,,, because i actually feel like theyd very present around!! sorry if this seems really fragmented im kind of mentally patching them together

i feel like i also have to explain the relationship between Mother and the mystic seller a little bit, once they meet Mother almost idolizes them and is excited to take their words to heart, and as theyre working towards recruiting the bishops theyre "rewarded" for their progress, they see it as a blessing, to mm it's the way of things

they receive baals necklace first, and shortly after leshys got, the ritual to bring baal back is successful and hes incredibly skeptical about everything thats going on because he cant fathom narinder being a mortal buthe takes it better than his brother who holds hard onto the belief that this is all unfair far longer than his brother does

theres a LOT of things that happen between baals resurrection and ayms, during which baal learns about what it is to be a person and individual, but he'll still struggle with this feeling of being loyal to narinder, possibly even more so now that he sees him as an equal with flaws

he has to help his brother adjust and learn but it takes aym tattling to narinder that forces nari to tell him that by that point (its probably been a couple years) that hes grown fond of their insistence to follow him around even now so loyally, that he considers them equals(his way of saying friends without actually acknowledging it in words yet)

he of course tells him he can never repeat this to his brother(bc baal and narinder are kind of on the same page and it can be left unsaid)

they both have their own ways of adjusting and they are reunited with forneus(tho it takes a while). they do stick around the cult because while they've learned more about themselves and each other, following narinder has been all theyve known, and this brings up a lot of complicated emotions the three will eventually touch on whether they want to or not, it will reach a point it has to be talked about

as far as their relationship with ovidia/mother goes? as Mother, they show a very genuine(and skewed) form of love to their followers and its extended to them without question and without judgement, and its initially what eventually gets baal to even allow them to speak with him and convince him to place enough trust in them(thats how they got him to forneus in the first place) and thru that, aym would come to. not trust. but at least respect them enough not to cause trouble or give Mothers followers a reason to doubt them(even if he will always believe their power belongs to narinder) they are gifted necklaces because in a selfish way, Mother wants them around for narinders sake(his only friends)

as ovidia? it becomes very complicated again, because ovidia still does things as Mother, but their actions dont feel like they come from a genuine place more than "its what i have to do because only i can do this" and after the brothers have had a long life to develop on their own and together, its upsetting. even after ovidia and narinder get together their feelings about ovidia stay complicated but they think it will work itself out, its not as though they can do anything about it!

:^)

anyway heres a doodle of the boys i did on my new years stream

[drgnflyteabox]

red ochre [5]

series masterlist previous || part five -> kermes || part six -> madder

pairing: viking goap x fem! nun reader summary: big nun, little nun w.c: 3.5k tags/warnings: guilt, religious / moral turmoil, stockholm syndrome, child abuse (past), scars, simon returns, corruption (past), misogyny (past), whipping (past), blood, suffering (past mostly), power imbalance, freeze response (past), guilt, dissociation, dom/sub dynamics, we're learning consent (kinda? eeh), violent imagery, dubcon/noncon, vaginal fingering, choking, throat grab

When Johnny asks how it felt to go from there – the convent, you think he means – to here, you can only describe it as dunking your hands into ice water. 

Shocking, painful, and prickling all over.

He only says hm, and moves on. His face is pensive. You don’t tell him that sometimes, you wake up and aren’t in the water anymore.

Even in prayer, you hadn’t thought as much as you had since you’d been taken. Hadn’t worried as much. Teachings from adults since youth had told you that everybody was inherently sinful, even children.

So why is the community around you so happy without God? They have their own, you know this, but the multitude of them and their roles in divine hierarchy aren’t necessarily about absolute power.

There are woman-Gods, Gods without designations, Gods for the earth and the children and unions between people. You find it hard to continue calling them heretics, devils, when they’re really just people. Different, yes, strange and incomprehensible, but people nonetheless.

Heathens, you try to think. Heathens, devils. They took you

You wonder when the last time you thought of yourself as just a person was, when you weren’t a thing set within a rigid mold, beaten down in more ways than one.

On the eve of Simon's return you catch Johnny doing something secretive. He's hunched over the table, the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. The soft sound of scraping, of wood gently knocking is all you can hear over the fire.

“What's that?” you ask, when your curiosity gets the best of you.

Johnny turns, one eye squinted, the every picture of concentration. He holds up a carved figure – a woman, it looks like. Ah, it’s you. Though hard to tell, the woman wears a veil and sits on a chair, hunched.

Your veil. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. It used to be a weight, heavy and pressing, a shackle. Now you miss the safety of not feeling so exposed all the time.

Somewhere in the journey here it had been lost, or maybe thrown overboard. Your habit, too, replaced for the woolen Viking-style dresses bought and bartered for by Simon and Johnny. Even you have to admit you enjoy the colours more, even if the conformity of the convent felt safe.

“How long were you watching me?” you breathe, eyes wide and still staring.

“Not long, lamb,” he smiles disarmingly. “Ah just remember ye, sittin’ pretty.”

“Working on the tapestry,” you correct him, though it doesn’t really matter.

He looks back down to his little figure, pensive.

“Ah guess so,” he says jovially.

“It was my punishment,” you add. This probably matters even less, but the clash of worlds has thrown you off balance. You feel unbearably present, unbearably lucid.

I was a nun, you think. Am I still a nun?

“Punishment?” he frowns. “Ah thought they struck ye?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I had to work extra hard.”

“Like a bairn?”

“A what?”

“A child, lamb,” he smiles again.

You look into the fire, thinking. Punishment applied to everyone, not just children, no? Even Simon and Johnny had punished you. But who had given them the right? Had you, with your secret want? Your secret lustful sin?

“You punished me,” you settle on.

“Aye, we did,” he nods. “Ye needed it.”

“Then why do you… ah, disparage the church for doing the same?”

He turns to you.

“Ah think ye got it all wrong,” he says simply. “We don’t give it to ye to make ye hurt. Aren’t ye better after? Righted?”

Righted. That’s a word worth its weight in gold. As is the truth of his words, but you stay quiet and look into the fire instead of responding.

You take up Johnny’s offer to spend time with Kari. Johnny walks you there, holds your hand in the cold and blows hot air on them as you wait together outside their door.

When Gaz opens it, he hoots and hollers as if the frigid air outside has no effect on him, as if his inner warmth and naturally excitable disposition is no match for the cold.

You have to admire that. At least a little.

“Hi there,” Gaz says to you, a greeting softer than the one he gave Johnny.

“Hello,” you try to subtly peek inside, “it’s… nice to see you.”

He doesn’t take offence to your awkward, stilted attempt at politeness. Maybe he knows you’re not quite comfortable here, to put it lightly, and only claps your shoulder gently to pull you in.

“Have fun!” Johnny shouts, already leaving, “and give me my wife back in one piece!”

That makes you sheepish, but you try to ignore your feelings in favour of moving towards Kari and the little baby, Tyra.

“Hello again,” she greets, smiling. The baby stares at you, babbles ceasing as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her little head swings towards her mother, hiding despite her clear curiosity.

“You’ve met me before,” you say softly, trying valiantly not to frighten her as you take a seat opposite to Kari.

“She’s feeling shy lately,” Kari looks down and tuts, swiping a thumb over Tyra’s chubby cheek, “needs her mama.”

Weaving here is not much different than weaving at the convent. Once you get the basics down, you’re threading dyed wool into cloth astride Kari.

Some spirit of confidence grips you.

“Will you tell me anything about Simon and Johnny?”

“About-” she lifts her head, “Simon and Johnny? Don’t they speak to you?”

“They - do,” you rush to assure her, though your voice maintains a weary unsureness.

Luckily for you, she gives you a small but comforting smile over the wool.

“You’re looking for an outside opinion? That’s okay, lovely girl, I just might not know as much about them as my husband does,” she gestures with her chin towards Gaz, who walks towards you both.

“What d’you need to know?” he asks casually, sidling up to Kari affectionately, “think they’ll be able to answer better than me.”

“I only really know… what I’ve seen. I haven’t…” your mouth twists as you trail off, frustration germinating as you struggle. Right, you can commit sins of the flesh but you can’t ask a question to sate curiosity — one which might be the difference between surviving and not surviving.

Knowledge is important, after all. Powerful. You think of Eve, who doomed humanity for it, naked as the day she was born and as clueless as Adam yet ate the apple anyway.

“I know they’re… warriors,” you pause, “since they’re all scarred, but—“

“Well, not necessarily—” Kari starts, until Gaz puts a palm on her thigh and gives her a look you can’t discern. 

“That’s not something we should share,” Gaz says tightly, but kindly.

“How else..?” you frown.

Tyra stirs, and Kari gives Gaz another look.

“Simon’s father used to be chief,” she lifts the babe back into her lap, patting, cooing, “it’s not a nice story, but if you need it to understand them better then I don’t mind telling it.”

“I want to know about them,” you insist, trying to push past the sense of danger, the sense that you’ll be hurt or killed for toeing out of line.

Testing the elasticity of safety here perhaps isn’t wise, but testing it might be what you need to settle. Knowing where the boundaries are, what’s expected, where they come from… you wonder if you’ll doom everybody, like Eve.

“Believe it or don’t, but we’ve only just rekindled the hunts, the raids. How it should be,” she starts.

Gaz sighs, leaning back where he’s sitting. You assume his hesitance is out of loyalty for his comrades, but you choose tentatively to ignore him in favour of his wife.

“We had a lazy, drunken leader,” Kari continues, “Simon’s father inherited the title through lineage, not through prowess as is… more natural to us.”

You nod slowly, trying to imagine. In the church, such things were often gained with corruption: any wealthy lords’ son could rise high in the ranks, if he had the money and means.

The convent had somewhat of a similar issue, though the women were ‘married’ into the church and the power rested in the hands of their families. 

Such was the world.

Not always, but you’d heard of it often enough. One of the abbots of the monastery in the closest town had been the son of an affluent donator, and thus received power of authority over the other monks.

“To make a long story short, and more respectful to Simon—” Gaz looks at her then “—his father was needlessly cruel both to his own children, his wife, and to those he was responsible for.”

“So, those scars…?”

“Some are from fighting, of course. But usually, no one’s getting close enough to those two to land that kind of damage. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

Gaz butts in here,  “or, you can ask him yourself.”

“How did that woman, I forgot her name, come to be chief?” you frown in thought.

Gaz takes over again, his hand dragging up from the small of his wife's back and squeezing her nape. It’s as much of a warning as you’ve seen, though it’s quiet and Kari looks sheepish, not afraid, “Kate challenged him.”

“A challenge?” you frown, “such as?”

“A fight to the death.”

“Oh,” your lips close, and thin, and your eyebrows fly up. “I didn’t realize… I mean, violence is…”

They don’t do you the courtesy of filling in for you, so you go silent and the air settles.

Johnny picks you up later, when you’ve helped Kari with a big portion of her weaving. You love the threads, the dyeing process. It’s meditative.

“Good ?” Johnny nudges your side, slipping a hand to just above your waist, fingers tickling the side of your breast.

“Yes,” and it’s honest.

He walks you home, hand in hand, and cannot stop talking about Simon's return.

“Ah’ve never been without him this long,” he rambles over the fire, stirring a potato soup, “think yer gonnae be witness to something dirty. Sorry, lamb.”

Only he’s grinning, and he’s not sorry, and you can see the front of his pants begin to tent.

Johnny later offers you that very same sin, tilting his hips towards you and swinging his cock obscenely, cheekily. You do not take him up on it despite the smolder that begins between your legs – you simply turn, and try to sleep through the sounds of his self-abuse.

Simon returns without much fanfare, slipping into the house with a seemingly practiced silence. He moves like a ghost.

Johnny doesn't wake yet, sleeping like an affectionate log behind you.

His gaze meets yours, as impassive as always, framed in a halo of white winter light. He looks handsome this way, though it also has the effect of making his scars look deeper – crevasses on his face for shadows to lay in.

You watch as he strips his winter garments, slipping then beside you, evening out the weight on the bed.

“How did it go?” you whisper. If he's surprised that you spoke he doesn't show it, staring up at the ceiling, muscles decompressing. Sighing like a big dog.

In lieu of speaking, he lifts something into your focus. Oh, it's a tooth, sharp and white. A predator's tooth.

“The rest tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You can tell he's tired. His face looks weary. How far do they travel for these hunts? You assume quite far, as it’s enough to tire even a seasoned warrior.

So, rather than speaking, asking him from which creature he took this tooth, you tentatively reach your hand up to press your fingers against his thick scars.

Simon freezes, as do you. Then, as he relaxes, you trace the grooves on his face with your fingers tightly. Very lightly.

A delicate moment is born then. Johnny's deep, sleepy breathing behind you, Simon's acquiescence – it's a tranquil thing. As thin as lace, as sweet as a crisp apple.

After some time, when you've traced his face twice over and his eyes are half-lidded, you speak softly.

“Why me?”

“You're beautiful,” he says simply, sighing again, “we wanted to.”

It becomes harder, again, to hold the belief of them as devils. That they smelled the sin on you and picked you that way.

“Don't you think it's cruel?”

“No,” finally, he turns to you.

“It was,” you assert recklessly. Fear twists in your gut, poisonous.

“You were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still scared?”

“I feel like you can see right through me. That scares me.”

“Not at first.”

“Then when?”

His hand finds the dip of your waist. Squeezes.

“On the boat, when you pushed up against me like a wet kitten. Even scared, you needed it.”

“You were cruel to me then, too.”

“I’m a cruel man.”

There's a stray thought that wiggles to life in the back of your head that suggests sympathy for him despite his statement. That you can begin seeing the path of his life and understand how he came to be.

You think of punishment again; about parents and children, husband's and wives, about Simon and his father. That wasn't punishment, if you're understanding it the way Kari implied.

A memory strikes you, unbidden and unwelcome. 

Salt blows in the air,  metallic and thick in your nose. Not sea salt, not the wind you love so much, but from blood spraying. 

The man brought his son to the convent, citing his bad behaviour as ungodly. Sister Margret was pleading with him, hands clasped in desperate prayer and voice high, reedy, as she begged him to just stop hitting him – please, just stop hitting him!

The boy cowered. Not a child, but a boy nonetheless. Young enough to make an impression, round-cheeked, on the cusp of manhood. Stained with blood.

He lifted the rope, again and again and again, even as Margret leapt for his arm and tried to stop him, pulling, shouting.

You were stock still, frozen, not even a tremble in your body. Your eyes had widened when he first struck the boy and you’d been stuck since.

Simon takes your hand, peels it away from your dress, pulling you bodily towards him and out of the memory.

With your cheek pressed close to his bare shoulder, you murmur, “did you take me to hurt me?”

“No,” he says, sounding for once like he isn’t hiding anything.

“Did you hit me to really hurt me?”

“No,” he repeats, then, “I hit you because you needed it, because you liked it.”

“I’ve seen…” you don’t continue.

“I know.”

“We’ve both been hurt,” your voice is a whisper.

“Mm,” Simon confirms.

You think of the boy. Of his father. Of his terrified, deer-like eyes, blood splattered on his back and on the ground and soaked into the rope – about how four townsmen had to pull his father away for fear of killing the boy.

How you felt when you hit yourself, when the abbess hit you, how different they were to when Simon took his palm to your ass.

Shame. That had been in the boy's eyes that day. He had hid his face in his arms, cowering not only from fear but from being seen.

You’d felt that same shame each time you’d been punished, intensifying, twisting together until you’d learned to turn the same pain inwards.

 “Are you afraid of being seen?” you murmur to Simon.

“No.”

You don’t have to say the silent part; that you’re the afraid one. That Simon correctly interpreting your need for a different kind of control, one that let you lose yourself, felt like you’d been flayed for all to see.

Simon moves his hand lower, cupping the soft curve of your behind, staring at you, testing the waters. You know that if you said no, he might anyways, but you stay quiet as his fingers lift the hem of your dress.

The fabric slides over your skin, a whisper in the air, tickling you. He rubs his rough, hairy knuckles against your thigh close to where it meets your leg.

He pauses there, breathing slowly, before he slides a finger up your slit and through the thatch of hair above it.

“If I made a request,” you murmured, “would you grant it?”

“Make it, and I’ll tell you.”

He slips a finger to rub your hole, just outside, teasing, while his thumb finds your clit.

“I don’t want you to take me until we’re man and wife… men and wife.”

Simon hums, rubs gently, makes your hips undulate.

“Do you think you’re in a place to be making requests like that, love?”

“I haven’t asked for anything else.”

He raises a brow, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle when you’re wet enough.

“Haven’t you?”

Your breathing deepens, hands coming down to hold his thick wrist, pulling almost subconsciously. Even now, you can’t totally let go, leaning away from him and the pleasure.

But he understands, leaning over you, using his other hand to pin you to the mattress by your throat. It’s not the nicest hold, but the burning of your lungs heightens the pulsing in your cunt.

“Think you just made a few requests right now,” he grunts, using your leg to rub his hard, clothed cock.

There’s a stirring beside you. Johnny groans as he wakes up, then laughs sleepily.

“Ah woke up just in time,” his voice is rough with sleep.

Simon hums, mmm, in that deep rumble of his. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them, making you gasp raggedly. Your hands still clutch his wrist, weaker now, but it’s half resistance half comfort.

“Mm, good girl,” Johnny murmurs. He curls into your side, cock growing against your hip, wrapping a leg around you while his hand climbs beneath your pulled up dress and palms your tit.

God, you could die just like this: fighting for breath, touched all over, held down and made free. The hate you had for them feels irrelevant, the fear, the brutal way in which they stole you.

You can’t even think about if Simon will disregard your request – your last frontier against them, the treasure between your legs for a husband only.

Simon’s knuckle deep in it, but still, you can’t let go of that final tether. Not yet, not without any other internal pillars to hold you up.

Everything else has been wiped away. Drawings in the sand on a beach swept by foamy white waves.

Johnny leans in and bites your shoulder, gnawing, hips moving against you. You can’t arch like you want to, but you try.

Wet, sinful sounds grow as you gush around Simon’s fingers, as they use you to get off.

When you peak, white spots dance in your vision, mouth open in a silent scream choked away by Simon's heavy palm.

It’s like flying.

In the afternoon, when you’ve all slept, Simon leaves to speak with John and you prepare lunch with Johnny.

More fish, more potatoes. It’s growing on you.

When Simon returns, he has in his arms a rolled up fur. Though unprocessed and still wet underneath, it’s beautiful, pale, spotted.

He takes a heavy seat in front of you, laying the skin over his knees, taking your hand in his and bringing it to the fur.

Soft. Dense. Your fingers move through the pelt.

“For you,” Simon says.

You look up at him, heart dancing.

His gifts. The apple, the orgasms, this– you don’t know what to make of it. Yes, it’s a kindness, but he’s a cruel man. He’d said so himself, and you’d felt the brunt of it.

Leaning into that cruelty has given you a strange power, a strange solidity. You’d so begun to familiarize yourself with his harshness that you’d forgotten this complexity.

You pinch the fur, feeling it between your fingers, breathing slowly. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache; it felt like a phantom hand.

“For me?”

Johnny slides three bowls on the table, grinning.

“Yer first wedding gift,” he says jovially.

 “Oh, I see,” you murmur, but it isn’t a disappointed oh.

Simon leaves later again, full of soup, to process the rest of the hunt’s boon with John. He takes the pelt with him, a snowcat pelt you’ve learned.

Yet, he’d returned with not much more than scratches on him from travel. Tired, yes, but a few hours of sleep and splattering his spend on your belly had fixed that earlier.

You’d bathed, since, though the feeling was hard to shake.

Johnny putters about again, returning to his carving of the little mini you. A peek into the past, one you no longer embodied.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, slipping your favourite wool dress on. The red, well worn one. Soft, comforting. 

“Course,” he mumbles, concentrating. Then, his head shoots up.

“Ye want one o’ Simon ‘n’ I, lamb? Carry us around?” Only it sounds like aroond.

You nod, walking on socked feet to where he’s carving.

“Yes.”

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

Ok I am going to talk about something that's been on my mind recently.

Major warning ⚠️ might get deep.

Also ADHD RAMBLING SORRY IN ADVANCE 😔

Regarding Alastor and the Seven year absence. Ok so I see how In some recent posts people say Alastor must feel forgotten by the Hasbin crew, cause When Sir Pentious and Dazzle died they got a portrait and a statue. While Alastor got nothing. And Charlie thought he had died too.

But while that is true I'm surprised no one talks about how Alastor already felt Forgotten long before the fight. I'm talking about when he finally got home after 7 years disappearance.

My boy didn't get a Welcome home,( although he did get one from Carmilla later on)or a " Hey are you ok". Nothing. What does he get. Pushed around, Judged ( though it's quite understandable it's still wrong) and even told that he basically didn't matter. Remember the scene between Carmilla and Alastor. Alastor was basically asking her " Hey while I was gone, Did you at least think about me"?. And Carmilla response was definitely " Eh Not Really, But welcome back in any case".

Sure he looked pissed but if I was in his place I'd feel very hurt. I kinda noticed how everyone treats Alastor as if he is the worst thing in hell. When there so much worse * cough Valentino cough*

From what I understand he only targeted those that hurt others. Maybe Hell was pissed because in a way he was saving other souls. Taking them from their abusive owners. Which is fucked up but it's hell. What do you expect?

I firmly believe Alastor grew up in a abusive household and definitely witnessed his mother getting abused which definitely affected his psyche. Maybe his father killed his mother and after killing his father he vowed no one will ever go through what he went through.

So he targeted awful people and offed them. When he got to hell. I think he felt his work wasn't done yet and now he is in the land of abusers and monsters. Maybe deep down. He was the one SCARED 😨.

Maybe he killed so he could feel safe in a twisted way. He ended up selling his soul cause he was scared. His owner who i headcanon is like Mother Gothel definitely didn't help. She manipulated him into thinking she is keeping him safe. When In reality she was using him for his powers.

I also headcanon that ( now this is going to sound crazy) His owner forces him to dress and act the way he does. She wants to be the only one who can play with her toy. His owner definitely doesn't share. So she will try to make him look in her eyes unappealing. We all know this doesn't work though. As Vox had fallen in love with him.

Now I don't believe Vox ever hurt Alastor and as much as I love stories where he gets 😳 obsessed. I actually would be happy if they become best friends again and hope it was just a giant misunderstanding just like Fizz and Blitz.

Still something happened That hurt Alastor deeply that he now hates anything to do with television. My Headcanon is cause Vox started to spend more time with Valentino and accidentally leaving Alastor in the dark. Alastor enjoyed spending time with Vox. Going dancing at a club, listening to radio shows. Even cuddling in a blanket watching a movie. But I think the main reason he enjoyed Vox's company is cause, His owner couldn't touch him. She couldn't hurt him in any way.

Kinda like how a person wants there friend over so there abuser doesn't hurt them. The abuser won't cause they rather do their evil deed in secret.

In other words Alastor felt safe around Vox and when he started spending time with Valentino and less with him. His owner would hurt him.

But no one knew this cause Alastor always had a smile on his face. Always seemed sure and confident of himself. This is a perfect representation of " You don't know what happens behind closed doors". I think this was a learned habit from childhood too. Maybe after his father abused him or/and his mother he would threaten to kill them if they told or even showed any signs of abuse.

His owner definitely has that power. If she has the power to give him power then she has the power to erase Alastor from existence. I think she threatened his afterlife multiple times.

Anyway eventually Vox and Alastor have a big fight which pissed the owner off. And she took him away for seven years. Personally I am among those that think she TORTURED him during that time.

I think she let him out and told him to watch the princess and make sure no one gets redeemed. She sews a smile on his face so everyone thinks he is happy and fine. Again reference to what I said earlier.

Alastor goes back home and everything has changed. Probably a culture shock to him. He goes to the hotel and had to pretend everything is ok. Maybe he was all touchy feely with everyone cause he wants to feel safe and secure. Like he is finally home and not hallucinating. When he is pushed away he acts like it doesn't matter but I think it does. I think it hurts him deeply but because of the abuse he endured in childhood and his afterlife he puts up a front as a defense mechanism.

As Alastor told Charlie

" Just because you see a Smile, don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool my dear. It inspires your friends, Keeps your enemies Guessing and says no matter what comes your way, Your the one in control".

In a roundabout way he was basically calling for help without saying he needs help. Remember he can't tell her or anyone about what he went through. Of course In a way it means he is still a prisoner. His owner can take him away at any time and this definitely scares him. So he will do anything he can to prevent this from happening. Even making a deal with the princess of hell.

Anyway So while after the battle I think he felt Forgotten, I think he already felt that way. Like he doesn't matter and he wants to matter. His owner and father probably told him that he is worth nothing and no one will miss him while he is gone.

Well he was gone twice and NO ONE missed him.

That's very sad when you think about it and I'm surprised no one had brought it up yet.

Once again I apologize for my rambling thank you for reading