#i need to say this because by god have i suffered that caption is just for fun and vibes i made this with my hands and adobe illustrator

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “High School Musical” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— But make it emotionally repressed.

[Somewhere in Los Angeles. Saturday, 2:23 PM. Rene��s house.]

She’s scrolling on her phone, one arm loosely wrapped around your waist, the other balancing a cold LaCroix on the arm of the couch.

You're scrolling too. Muted group chats. Insta stories. The occasional doom post.

And then, because you’re bored, comfortable, and mildly possessed by a goblin spirit, you open Twitter (X, but no one calls it that), click “compose,” and type the following:

"Ngl I would have NOT be friends with Reneé if we’ve met in high school 🤣"

You hit send with the kind of thoughtless confidence only people sitting on a celebrity’s lap can have.

Reneé doesn’t even notice at first.

She's still watching whatever TikTok video Auli'i sent in the group chat—probably something unhinged and slightly cursed, if her little huffs of laughter are anything to go by.

But then, her phone buzzes again. And again.

And again.

Until finally— “Okay, what the hell is happening,” she mutters, unlocking her screen and squinting.

You don't say anything.

Because she’s about to find it.

And she does.

You feel it in the sharp inhale.

“Did you—" She looks down at you, one eyebrow already arched. “Did you just tweet about me while literally on my lap?”

You shrug. “It was relevant to my current physical location.”

She narrows her eyes. “Let me read this out loud.”

“‘Ngl I would have NOT be friends with Reneé if we’ve met in high school.’”

“All caps: ‘NOT.’ Followed by a Rolling-on-the-Floor-Laughing emoji.”

Then she blinks. “I—what the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

You spin around, resting your elbow on her thigh, chin in your hand like you’re on some kind of chaotic lesbian throne.

“I just feel like you’d be, like… the theater mean girl.”

“I was the theater mean girl.”

“Exactly. You’d have bullied me for using Tumblr and watching anime.”

She gasps, hand to chest. “First of all, I was also watching anime. Second, I only bullied people when they deserved it. Third, if we met in high school, I would’ve had a crush on you immediately.”

You pause. Your breath stutters.

You pretend you didn’t feel something while hearing that last part.

Instead: “Okay, but be honest—would you have bullied me before or after realizing you had a crush?”

Reneé squints. “Probably both.”

You burst into laughter. “See?? Case in point. Tweet still valid.”

She grabs your phone.

“Hey!”

She waves it like a sword. “You started this chaos. I’m finishing it.”

You lunge for it, but she holds it above her head. And you’re already straddling her lap, so the movement just turns into some bizarre, homoerotic Greco-Roman wrestling situation, where your faces are now way too close and your breathing is definitely not normal and—

“Oh my God,” Reneé whispers. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are! You’re literally overheating on my thighs.”

“Okay, that sentence needs to go in a federal vault.”

She smirks, gaze darting down to your mouth before she catches herself. “Do you even realize how feral your followers are going to go over this?”

“I’m sure they’re fine—”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzzbuzzbuzzbuzz.

Your mentions are now unreadable. Just screaming. Reactions. GIFs of crying and combusting and gay panic. One person edited a picture of your tweet into a Shakespearean parchment with the caption “queers have always suffered.”

You groan. “This is your fault for being a lesbian menace.”

“I’m the lesbian menace,” Reneé says with a grin. “Try again.”

You look at her.

And for a second—

The room quiets.

She’s still holding your phone. You’re still sitting on her. But the moment turns soft. Like maybe this is something you’ve done a hundred times, and maybe something you’re still pretending isn’t what it is.

You shift.

She notices.

You feel her hands tighten slightly on your waist.

You whisper, half-teasing: “Do you wish we had met in high school?”

She stares at you for a long time.

Then: “No.”

Your face falls.

But then she adds, gently:

“Because I would’ve ruined it. I didn’t know who I was back then. I didn’t know how to love people right.”

You freeze.

Reneé shrugs. “Now I do.”

You swallow.

“Do you?” you ask, voice quieter.

“I’m still figuring it out.” Her eyes flick down again, then back to yours. “But I’m trying with you.”

The air stills.

You say nothing.

But you don’t move either.

And when she finally hands your phone back, you don’t take it.

You just rest your forehead against hers.

And for now, that’s enough.

[goldom]

Flipping back to part 2 in HI3. I went over to it when I thought catching up would be required to get the free Elysia, but then it wasn't, so I went back to pt 1. But now it really is required to get free gems, so okay fine let's try to get it done. Chapter 4.

Dreamy's single-track focus on "Where's my girlfriend" and completely ignoring whatever Vita's trying to get her to do is what I wanted to see from Stelle in HSR 2.1.

That said, I have just as little clue now what the actual plot here is as I did what was going on in Penacony in 2.1. Why does she need to relive this simulation over and over?

Oh no she's Acheroning me

Y'know if Theresa et al are willing to see Dreamy as a real girl despite being an artificial being they made (right?) why don't they grant that same consideration to everyone else inside the simulation? And, like, not make them relive their entire existence of suffering over and over for (whatever purpose) because that's kinda inhumane?

*whispers* why is Bronya named PROMETHEUS (not really asking I'll get to the rest of part 1 some day)

Theresa getting AMAV (assigned male at Vita)

...who? Is it me? Is this a [Omikron: the] Nomad Soul situation?

also: "I DEMAND NEW GENDERS"

I actually really like real-world Theresa's outfit way more than this weird sleep-deprived gremlin thing they turn her into

Literally 5 minutes ago

It's really annoying how you can't open any of the menus during story missions in part 2. I can't even tell if I'm still in the first section of the chapter or if it's been autoplaying into later ones. (Really hoping it's the latter because god these are so long)

Hey cool, I have learned a tiny bit of Chinese. Just heard Theresa say 好累 (Hǎo lèi) and matched it with the caption of "so exhausting" because it's one of ZZZ Ellen's voice lines (which I never knew the meaning of, being unsubtitled)

Wait didn't Songque just say that Thelema was an imaginary friend in this loop why is she standing there

I thought it was the Age of Girls Bands

say ittttttttt

Same, Vita. This is really boring... can something of any importance happen sometime again?

Now I'm in my element.

Jesus Christ, Vita, I know we were bored but you didn't have to bomb the entire city just to get the plot moving

whoa whoa whoa, wait, this game has combat in it too? Wild.

...well, 10 seconds of it.

okay, so Vita doesn't see the people in here as real. (Or she's playing the heel for... some reason.)

*everyone staring at the appearance of Evil Lady* Me: am i supposed to know who that is?

Dreamy: "Is that me?" Thank you for explaining. Face blindness strikes again.

OH THANK GOD that was the whole chapter. I was so scared this would all end up being just that first little segment of the chapter and that I'd be in ch 4 for days and days. I did it I beat the chapter!

Aside from that... annoyingly got baby-Durandal in the discounted 10x (annoying because I didn't really want her and I was 20 off pity, but who can resist 50% off?), but then I reluctantly figured I might as well try for her weapon and got it in another single 10x! So I guess I use her now. Probably for the best because I had NO physical damage or IMG types from the last few years, so that was my weakest spot.

Still, kinda would have rather gotten Sena in upcoming rerun. I don't really need her at all, but... Sena...

[tinycatharsis]

my babies, oh my god. (I feel like I have to clarify that my reviews only make sense if u also read the para im replying to)

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.

move, mc. ME NEXT

“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.

that's what my friends tell me everyday.

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

he's so considerate even tho they're still strangers :((( technically (?) I believe kindness still exists because people like jw exists type of day fr

I just realized jay is always muttering smth under his breath after reading this for the second time. dfshjsak he's giving

with that exact caption too. (jw being the orange cat to his black one, otherwise it doesn't work)

jay not being a morning person fits his black cat agenda so welllllllll, me too best friend. ignore how much my tone has shifted on jay since pt.1... on everybody's life but jay's, I am a changed man.

rereading has helped me really narrow in on how much jw deeply cares for his friends. his sense of responsibility is def v admirable for someone so young.

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.

something they choose to do!!! actively choose to do. like that would give me mad hope too. I get mc.

the fact that they all know each other so well that they each fall into their own roles and tasks seamlessly even without any exchange of verbal words, or orders given. to be loved is to be seen keeps popping up in my mind when I think of s&s!enha. #maythistypeoflovelocatemevvvvvvvsoon #manifestingaswespeak

the imposter syndrome mc must be feeling also feels like crazy work. like there's just this group of friends who love each other more than anything and would take v far measures to protect and keep each other safe and she's just abruptly, unintentionally, fatefully thrusted into this dynamic. beyond just her personal considerations, there's just a huge gap she can't cross over. at least, for now.

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

I recently finished a cdrama, and when the mentor died he said smth like, life is simply going from having nothing to acquiring something and having nothing again. I PROBABLY COULDVE PHRASED THIS BETTER but my mind cannot today.

another chinese web novel I finished in the past called my youth began with him had a paragraph like that too, 'Do people live in the world just to see their losses? They were born with nothing and then as they grew up, they began to possess things. Then, they watch their families, friends, and lovers leave one by one. This was the cruelest thing god has created for humans, right? From this perspective, life was just a suffering.' the translation probably not 100% accurate.. but

oh my god, mc :( my shayla. you really ate down w that line tho, kissing ur brain rn. (consensually, ofc)

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?

omg, that's the argument I used to give my mom when I was 6 and she told me to make my bed and Im like Im gonna sleep in here at night anyway, what's the point of making it? SJKFDHA I would nawt want a kid, ever. because I was the prime example of ones I dont want LMFAO.

going back to the series, the mc has very valid concerns but lemme insert my two cents as I always do *cracks fingers*

if I could talk to her, I would tell her that being alone doesn’t make one immune to loss. It just means you’ll face it without anyone by your side. groups fall apart, yes, but so do individuals. at least in a group, you have a chance to fight for something more than just existence.

on that note, let me insert this quote here.

"Being alone is hard, to be sure, but it’s also deceptively easy — it requires nothing of us." from this work by rayne. I love her essays. I think this one fits the dilemma mc faces in s&s so well and I highly highly highly recommend you to read if you have some time one of these days! I would also love to hear ur thoughts but I can wait 🙋🏻‍♀️ okay now back to yapping-

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.”

me in a group project onggg

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.”

can't even lie, this fits hee so well. maybe I'm reaching (I'm def reaching) but implicitly, it also feels like he's someone wiser and older and warns the group when danger lurks ahead outside of just like yk spotting danger explicitly. HELP ME THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE.. I apologize.

“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.”

need a grumpy jay fic from u next from all the emotional damage in this. ALSO JAY BLACK CAT AGENDA AHHHH *screams and explodes into sparkly glitter* is it obvious that I have a favorite-

“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.”

#needthat Jake, come stitch me up bb. getting into a fight on purpose so he can patch me up next (I want jake so bad, it's like idk it's the devils whispering to me) him being a medic also makes sense. IM SEEING XO ERA JAKE specifically the part where he was biting the bread in the mv. if I was crazy, I would've searched up the mv and include the time stamps but I'm not that crazy (yet.)

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?”

I'm going pre-med too. WE'RE LITERALLY LOCKED IN. jungwon, don't look.

“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.”

i don't know abt that cuz I be losing my breath everytime I look at him. HE'S SO ADSJKFGHKJFE DJKFHASFKJ SDFAJKHFIJ yeah, I have nothing appropriate to say, so let's move on. (also thinking of that gun scene in their concept trailer for xo with this sunghoon. my god. he's so glorious. humans are visuals creatures after all. and I am only human—)

“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.”

#twinningwsunoo Im very diplomatic too! I won an award for it at a conference sdfshakj this role fits him so well, YOU 👏 HAD 👏 A 👏 VISION 👏 and I love to see it.

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.”

AWWWW, you're my baby and I love you sm. why does everything ni-ki do just reminds me that he's a baby and the maknae idk. even when it's not portrayed that way, he's also the only member in enha who's younger than me LMAO so pls let me be. going back to the para, let that magic workkkkkkk

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.

yeah? WHAT I WAS SAYINNNN EARLIER.

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.

"what do you bring to the ta—" B, I am the table. and the chairs.

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

incredibly real and valid. let's think about survival first bbg

omfg the jw leader parts again :( he do so much. he needs to do that much. to keep the grp alive anyway. they all play their parts, but being a leader is a different kind of weight to carry around.

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.

why did this lowkey have a sinister tone to it? STOP. STOP ITTT RN (keep going)

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.

I get why. but at the same time, is that really smart? because even that abundant pile of food will run out eventually, surely they realize.

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.

me when I'm paranoid omg

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.

a yapper, just like me. we would've been best friends. no but those characters are also so so crucial. people who brighten others day, lighten the mood, whatever it takes to distract from all the cruel things happening around them. sunoo, you will always be my icon.

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

hey, that was like a splash of cold water on a saturday morning when Im curled up in bed.

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.

adjshfkusdh I love ur writing.

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.

whatever I said above, double it and give it to the next person.

I love mc's character too. I probably said this in pt.1, if I didn't.. what the fuck was I even doing. but I love that she's very self aware, sharp, sensible, keen, perceptive. she's hardened her exterior for survival but she's not entirely heartless and realizes what her presence costs the grp. she wants to leave, but also not without repaying them first with something. anything. I love that for her. that's my girl fr

“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.

real and valid. I'm so sorry for causing you distress, my king. (omfg my switch up is crazy)

omg, also the scene where mc stands up to jw and REFUSES his order/decision to leave to hunt with them. this probably the first time anyone ever challenged him. and that's good, we need people that ask questions, inputs their own thoughts, two brains work better than one or whatever my eng teachers used to tell me.

the way she reasons with him and stands her ground omg. IM SO PROUD OF HER.

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

JAYWON *screams and dies* typing from the afterlife.. I will finish this review and even death can't stop me

“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?”

oh my god. it doesn't come across that way at allllll what. should I blush????????

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

jay, please. give me one chance to make it up to youuuuu PLEASEEEEEE IM A STAR (the way im not one bit mad is insane, you really outdid urself writing jay in this. I can't. I can't make this up)

omfg ofc, he's muttering smth under his breath again. DSFAJKGK SORRY I HAD TO. don't be shy jay, come whisper it in my ears. it'll be our little secret—

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.”

HEE, my other king. always making us feel included. ily. I mean it.

jay's story too tho :( that's rough. I love moments that explain why characters are the way they are and I also equally love it when authors dont explain and char is just messed up because it's smth innate dsajkh

ohhh that scene with them witnessing the zombies whispering/speaking to each other in the forest sent chills down my spine. the horror lover in me is clawing at the edges of my enclosure to be let out.

I forgot about the scary/sinister in a trad way part of this story because of how angsty it is but god dayum, foaming at the mouth rn.

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.

man. I'm scared too! lemme hide with you guys, leave me some space

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

BAEEE, why'd u say the second part sdfjkahkffhjkf

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.”

oh my god. don't pmo rnnnn (my men hating agenda always come out when enha's not in the equation. it's not exactly an agenda. i do hate m*n.)

I giggle everytime you write 'let out a breath u don't realize ur holding.' THIS IS NOT HATE DFASJHF it just brings back memories jkdash /pos

“I went after him.”

my man. GET HIS ASS.

“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.”

this is giving 02s lucifer. the grippppp that song had on me

also that love how u wrote these characters with flaws. jay's split second action having direct consequences. them having to abandon everything the built behind the safe walls of the camp. :( fuck the zombies, they all need a hug and some warm peppermint tea.

“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���”

yeah, smth is seriously wrong because why aren't u in my bed rn (me when im in a how can I make this pervy competition and my opponent is just a mirror)

I said this before and I'll say it again. your action scenes??? mwah *chef's kiss* your writing do get better with the chapters. you're doing an incredible job of writing present moments/descriptions.

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

sorry, that was me trying to be cool and mysterious. I needed to see the boys up close. bringing my binoculars next time.

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.

that's creepy as fuck. yeah, yeah, I like it. I love it. (in jw's voice)

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.

"there were no signs." me when im trying to ignore a large, looming tall presence in my room because im trying to sleep peacefully at night.

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

me and my equally sleep deprived best friend staying up at night.

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

EVERYONE SHUT UP. they're having a moment.

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.

TITLE MENTIONED???

and aw, I love how this chapter started and ended. truly, a lot of emotions rippled thru me but warmth is perhaps the most prominent.

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

[taohun]

found this betting slip in my pocket even though i’ve never been to the races; someone saw it and told me “you don’t know what you want, but you know that you had it once, and you know that you want it back”? anyone know what this is about? QR code doesn’t take me anywhere.

[jaybird-redhood]

chapter one ☆ a mutual hatred of sorts

☆ next chapter ☆

series masterlist

add yourself to the taglist!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jason Todd is a dick, and that’s putting it nicely.

See the thing is it’s impossible not to fall into the Wayne orbit when you’ve gotten as close as you have. They have a way of just pulling you in and not letting go.

In your case a chemistry project, knack for Mario Kart, and apartment perfectly placed in the middle of a certain red and yellow moron’s patrol route led to your spot in the bat’s clan. (And the subsequent need to clear out your closet for the obscene amount of first aid supplies that kept showing up in odd places.)

So, an accidental acquisition of the secret identity of one birdy (which really wasn’t Tim’s fault, sleep deprivation and a worried friend work wonders for uncovering secrets), led to the identities of all the bats, and soon you have the honor of getting fitted with top-of-the-line security in your apartment courtesy of Mr. Batman himself.

However, with the introduction of some of the bats came the introduction of all of them.

Including Jason.

A literal piece of shit.

“You know, he’s actually not that bad when you get to know him,” says Tim, head on the arm of your sofa.

“Yeah, one time I thought he was going to punch me,” Steph chimes in, “but then he like swerved at the last minute and knocked out the dude behind me.”

An almost comical look of contemplation crosses over her face before you can see an even more comical frown.

“He did let me get stabbed by that other dude though,” she says.

“So what, he feels complete indifference? Like that’s really any better?” you ask them. “He’s an asshole to you guys and you let him be because of nostalgia or some shit.”

“He’s actually pretty nice I swear you just have to give him a chance to prove it to you.”

You sit up from where your head was on Steph’s lap to glare at Tim.

“He broke into my apartment last week at like 6 in the morning to steal my last donut that I was saving and flipped me off when I nearly had a heart attack and threw a book at him.”

“His nearest safehouse is like half an hour away and he has 8am classes in the opposite direction on Wednesdays,” Tim tries to justify.

“And to be fair,” Steph throws in, “flipping you off may have been because of the book not because of the throwing.”

“Yeah, if had been like a lamp or something you probably would’ve been in the clear.”

“Ok fine,” you say, “what about the time that you twisted your ankle and he filmed you hobbling back to my apartment in pain instead of helping you.”

Tim rolls his eyes at you.

“It was a twisted ankle! That’s not even that bad I was fine.”

You give him your best glare, though your view is slightly obscured thanks to Steph’s arm on your face.

It seems to pay off though when Tim whines, “Shut up I really was!”

Steph snorts at that comment.

“You texted me saying you were dying.”

“Seriously Timmy? God you’re dramatic,” you chide. “That’s not even the point though, he sent me the video he took of it happening the next day with the caption- and I quote- ‘lol’”

You can hear a chuckle from his end of the couch.

“No! Not funny! He let you suffer and then laughed about it!” you groan, throwing the pillow next to you at him.

“That was the same week that you came to the manor and took the bookmark out of the book he was reading,” Steph points out.

You sit up to face her, blurting, “That was a minor inconvenience at best, and that was revenge for the-”

“And the day after you stole the bookmark you got a hold of his laptop and renamed all his case files to romcom movie titles,” Tim cuts you off.

This time you smack him, and he has the decency to not look offended as he rubs his arm.

“Only because the night before he came into my place and doused my couch in blood!” you shout, arms flailing. “When I woke up I thought someone had been murdered in there! You try cleaning that much blood out of green linen!”

Steph starts stroking your hair, and as patronizing as it is you can’t help but lean slightly into it.

Stupid comforting best friend.

“You know what,” she says, “you’re right. Jason is such an awful person and you’ve been through so much you poor, poor, thing.”

“Shut up with the fucking baby voice I’m too old for this shit,” you moan, slinking down onto the cool floor.

Steph lets out an offended squeal.

“You’re not even that much older than us!”

Tim follows that up with a cough that sounds suspiciously like, “mentally two years younger.”

You take that as your cue, getting up from off the floor to walk to your door and open it.

“All right that’s it out of my apartment jerks,” you say, before being hit with a brutal chorus of ‘we-haven’t-finished-the-movie-yets’.

You’ve learned by now to ignore them, but the way Tim is looking at you like you’ve just murdered his dog is making it hard.

“You’re rich enough that you don’t need to watch it on my Netflix account,” you protest, “go buy the film studio or some shit.”

They stop whining, but with the silence comes a barrage of puppy-dog eyes on Steph’s part.

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a considerable moment before pointing at the door. They both begrudgingly stand and pick up their bags, dragging their feet towards the door.

“Highly trained vigilantes my ass,” you say under your breath.

When they are both standing outside your apartment you feel a touch worse about kicking them out.

“You guys know I love hanging out with you,” you say apologetically.

They both frown.

“I have an essay to write that will not get written with the both of you here.”

Then Tim smiles?

He steps back in and says, “What I’m hearing is that one of us can stay! Bye Steph!” and with an unapologetic grin shuts the door in Steph’s face.

You glower at him, opening the door back up again, pushing him out with “Bye Tim”, and closing the door in his face this time.

“I hate you,” comes a muffled shout.

“Hate you more,” you reply.

You stand head against the door until you can no longer hear them clamoring down the stairs.

One last deep breath, you think, before trying to deal with your paper.

When you turn around your eyes widen. You barely have time to register the vaguely familiar figure before your instincts kick in.

And you punch him directly in the face.

Shit.

“Jesus you fuckhead!” Jason yelps, holding his face in one of his hands. “Your first reaction is to nail me in the jaw instead of, I don’t know, screaming or some normal shit!”

A quick once over determines he isn’t injured enough to warrant a scolding from Tim if you’re a little mean. Just a few knife wounds that look pretty shallow.

“Just be glad it was your pretty little jaw,” you smile sweetly. “It’ll be your dick next time you sneaky little bastard.”

He drops his hand from its place on his jaw, pacing scarily close to your couch, and only taking a few steps back towards the kitchen table when you make eye contact.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks coyly, turning around to face you.

Even a silent reminder to breathe can’t stop you from cursing at him under your breath.

“Of course that’s what you take away from this conversation,” you snark, “not the direct threat.”

“I’m too pretty for threats,” he quips with the worse grin you’ve ever seen.

You scowl at him, picking your laptop off the table and bringing it to the couch to get comfortable.

“The med supplies are where they always are,” you tell him flatly. “Tim brought more by a week ago. Take what you need and leave.”

He flashes you a mock salute and spins around.

“If I see any blood anywhere other than the trashcan,” you shout to him, “I will not hesitate to make that threat reality.”

“I am going to fucking kill you,” he shouts back.

Unfortunately for you armor and several guns strapped to a body readily increases one’s intimidation factor.

You listen for a while at the rustling of fabric and crinkling of sterile bandage wrappers.

It isn’t until you hear his boots clanking and the metallic sound of a grappling hook that you realize he’s on the ledge of your window about to leave.

He’s not wearing his helmet, just a domino, his torso wrapped in white.

Your gaze catches his eyes.

You’re surprised to find them on you.

Tilting your head to the side, you give him a forced smile, and blow a mock kiss at him.

He grimaces immediately, mirrors your fake little smile and catches your kiss, flipping you off in the process.

‘Asshole,’ you think, and watch him swing out your window before opening your file back up.

☆ next chapter ☆

[flosbelova]

I’ll Always Protect You

florence pugh x fem!reader

warnings: mention of death threats.

word count: 1.7k

summary: you and florence had been dating for a while. when she posts you on her Instagram, you receive a bunch of hate comments and florence defends you and your relationship.

request from @the-loving-quotes​

Dating Florence Pugh has been one of the greatest decisions you have ever made in your life. You both have managed to keep your relationship lowkey until she randomly posts you on her Instagram. It was a photo of you looking at this mountain view at sunset from the balcony. She captioned it “My happy place.” 

Your heart started to race as soon as you saw a photo of yourself on her Instagram-- and the fact that she tagged you almost made you pass out.

You looked through her comments and let’s just say most of it wasn't what you would have expected. Some were positive-- for example, there were comments that read:

“OH MY GOSH IT CONFIRMED! I'M SO HAPPY”

“I’m so proud of you <3”

“You guys are the absolute cutest!”

Then, there were comments that weren’t so positive. It was a mixture of homophobic comments and comments that said “Florence deserves better.”

Of course, they hurt, but you didn’t mind at first and chose to focus on the more positive comments. 

-

A couple days pass and you also decide to post Florence on your Instagram. As you hit “post,” your phone instantly started buzzing with notifications. Again, the comments were all a mixture of the positives and the negatives. However, you wanted to focus on the positive side and ignored the comments.

-

You posted Florence on your Instagram story, and you received a lot of DM’s. Although you don’t open your DM’s, you decided to check just for the hell of it. As soon as you swiped to your message requests, you instantly regretted swiping. 

“Kill yourself. You don’t deserve Florence.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away when you heard Florence come into the living room.

“Dinner’s ready, darling,” she says, holding a wooden spoon.

“Hm? Oh, right. I’ll be there in a sec,” you respond.

“Is everything alright, love?” she walks towards you with a concerned look on her face.

You take a deep breath. “Yes, everything’s fine.” You clench your jaw hoping Florence would drop the subject.

She pouts and looks at you with worry. Florence knows every little detail about you. She knows that nothing is ever “fine,” when it follows with you clenching your jaw. However, Florence doesn’t like to overstep on your boundaries, so she drops the subject and figures she’ll ask you later. 

“Alright, love. C’mon, let's eat. I’ve made your favorite,” she says, giving you a soft smile.

-

You loved Florence’s cooking and you always made sure to compliment her dishes whenever she cooked. However, tonight was quiet. The two of you sat in silence, quietly eating your dinner. 

You were grateful that Florence knew to get off your back whenever you were in a mood. That’s one of the things that you appreciated most about her, her ability to understand your emotions and how you cope with them. 

You knew that she would eventually ask you what happened as you have both communicated that suffering in silence wasn’t healthy.

You finished dinner early and asked yourself to be excused. You headed to bed as soon as you finished your meal. Florence stayed in the kitchen to tidy up and to give you some more space.

-

Laying on your side, you couldn’t help but to grab your phone and scroll through your notifications. As hurt as you were already, you were too stubborn to gain some self-control. As terrible as that message was, your comment section got even worse. Not only was it filled with homophobic comments, but you were also getting sent death threats. You had checked Florence’s account and pressed on your photo. You noticed that she turned off the comments.

You felt the bed behind you dip as an arm wrapped around your torso.

“Hi,” Florence whispers, and she rests her chin on your shoulder.

“Hi,” you weakly respond. You sigh as you turn your phone off and place it on the bedside table. You turn around in Florence’s arm and face her.

Florence gave you a worried smile and she wiped the tears on your face. You were so busy scrolling through the hate comments that you hadn’t noticed that tears were falling from your eyes.

“Oh, my love.” Florence places a gentle kiss on your forehead. She then looks at you with worry in her eyes. Florence couldn’t imagine what was going through your mind.

“I know you saw the comments,” she begins, “I saw them too. As soon as I saw the hate comments, I immediately turned them off.”

You sniffled and took a deep breath. “I got death threats,” you say, your voice breaking.

“What?” Florence says, appalled. Florence could feel her heart race and feel herself be filled with rage.

“That’s it, I’m making a post, this is unbelievable,” Florence says getting up to get her phone.

“No, please, you don’t have to,” you plead, “it’ll only make things worse.”

“No it won’t, Y/n, I promise you,” Florence says, already typing in her notes.

“You can’t promise me something that you have no control over,” you say coldly.

Florence pauses. She looks over at you, takes a deep breath and pouts. She stares at you for a while, studying your face. Florence is the type of person to defend the people she loves and doesn’t care if it will give her a bad rep. You just so happen to be one of the people that Florence loves, and she will do whatever it takes to defend you and her love for you.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that someone I love is being sent death threats, so please, let me say something,” she says, reaching for your hand.

“I really don’t deserve you,” you sigh.

“You do Y/n, you deserve every bit of me as much as I deserve every bit of you,” Florence says, caressing your cheek. 

-

A few days passed and Florence posted a video on her Instagram regarding the hate you had been receiving. 

“To my “fans,” who have sent a tremendous amount of hate to my girlfriend, Y/n, kindly unfollow me. I do not need your negativity towards my relationship with her. The hate you throw at her is hate you throw at me. The death threats you throw at her, are also death threats you throw at me. It is not your place to tell me who I should and should not love, nor is it any of your business. I do not appreciate the comments you have thrown at her. She does not deserve it, and nor do I. I am happy with Y/n. She makes me a better person. So please, leave my relationship alone and stop sending my girlfriend death threats. I will not ask again.”

After watching the video, you were in shock. Even if you had talked about it a couple days prior, you still didn’t expect that she would actually post it. Florence kept the comments on and fortunately, it was filled with massive support from other celebrities. You were grateful.

-

Florence had an interview with Jimmy Kimmel this week to discuss her recent and future projects. Of course, her video regarding your relationship was a topic of discussion. You stayed backstage and watched Florence’s interview from her dressing room.

“Okay, I think everyone here has seen the video that you had recently posted regarding your relationship,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Florence chuckles nervously.

“So tell me, if you’re comfortable, why you had said what you needed to say?” he asks.

“Did you watch the video?” Florence says sarcastically, earning a couple laughs from the crowd. “Um, I figured that I needed to. I mean my girlfriend was getting sent death threats for no apparent reason and it needed to stop.” This earned Florence a clap from the audience.

“That’s fair. God, the internet is so toxic, isn’t it?” Jimmy complains.

“Yeah,” Florence agreed. “Y/n and I had been dating for a while now and we’d managed to keep it lowkey. I just thought that when I’d finally posted her that I wouldn’t receive such horrid comments. Which is why I felt the need to address this because I hate seeing the people I love get hurt.”

A couple people from the crowd “Awwed”

“So, tell me what it is about Y/n that just makes you so in love with her?” Jimmy asked curiously.

Florence smiled as she thought about the things that she loved most about you. “Her smile was something that caught my eyes right off the bat. She has such a kind smile and I would do everything just to keep her smiling.”

The crowd “Awwed” again.

“Also, Y/n is so loving. She won’t admit it because she likes to be that “tough” person on the outside, but inside she’s a big softie. She gives the best cuddles. I also love how she makes me tea every time I come home from filming.”

“Aww, that must be nice. I think we all need a Y/n in our life, right?” Jimmy says.

The camera pans to the crowd who was cheering and nodding their heads.

“Well, too bad, Y/n is only one person and I’m the lucky girl who has her,” Florence says wittily. 

The crowd laughed and clapped.

“Alright, well it was lovely having you, Florence,” Jimmy says, shaking Florence’s hand. “And that’s all for tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

-

On the ride home, you rested your head on Florence’s shoulders.

“You really had to call me out, didn’t you?” you ask.

“Yeah, maybe just a little,” Florence says, making a gesture.

You chuckle and look at her. “Did I ever tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid my eyes on?”

“Yes, Y/n, you tell me everyday,” she says, grabbing your cheek.

You smile and close the gap between you. Florence melts into the kiss and moves her hand to the back of your head, running her hands through your hair. You pull away to catch some air and Florence rests her forehead against yours.

“I love you, Flo. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Y/n. and don’t thank me, you know I’ll always protect you.”

The End

[aetheternity]

Honestly can’t wait for the end of the game where we learn what Khaenri’ah did and finally take down the Fatui and Celestia. It hurts having to see Venti lie and change the subject around the traveler I just want to free him from whatever threat he’s under that’s big enough to make him feel like he has to protect them even though they’ve abused him and the other archons. Like the other person said, Rukka disobeyed Celestia and didn’t go to Khanri’ah and she had to be removed from existence and everyone’s memory. Not saying Celestia is 100% at fault for that, but it’s an awfully big coincidence.

Also, in the webtoon Venessa asks Venti to tell her about Celestia, and the next panel after that says “…!” With Venti looking really scared with a bright red background and shadowy figures behind him. It breaks my heart every time I see it. And then the next panel he changes the subject and there’s literally a caption that says “awkward laugh” while Venti is sweating. It’s so blunt, I can’t see how anyone could defend Celestia or accuse Venti of anything with such obvious red flags, yet they still do.

And the worst part is that conversation with Venessa took place a millennia ago, before Khanri’ah. Whatever bad things Celestia has done, Khanri’ah wasn’t the first. They’ve been threatening the archons for at least a millennia. Venti’s habit of changing the subject to defend Celestia is a result of thousands of years of suffering under them. Poor baby, I just want him to be okay but they’ve hurt him :(

I can't wait for the end of the game too. I want the siblings to team up and beat the shit out of the unknown god and give all the archons back their freedom. (Venti really is the least free god of all of them.) I wanna see what Aether and Lumine were like Pre Teyvat. If they weren't just kinda blooped into existence like the gods and they were indeed created by hand or birthed I bet their parents are so sexy and it is not a want but a necessity for me to have a bisexual panic attack over their gorgeous mom and dad.

But yeah all the stuff with Khaenri'ah has been like the biggest plot point in the game so they'd need to resolve it in a big way.

I need Venti to cry and be ok so bad. He deserves to have a good cry because he's suffered so much throughout his life and he's just been powering through with such a beautiful smile. I just want him to be ok. When all that stuff with Albedo goes down I'm so scared he's gonna die. He's weak enough because he doesn't have his gnosis but he was also asleep for so long that he's an even weaker god than he already would've been without it.

I also wonder if the reason Venti feels fear when hearing of Celestia isn't just because of him. He is just on incarnation of Barbatos I wonder if Barbatos in general has just suffered for so long under Celestia's thumb and if so what's the end goal.

It's all so interesting everything all seems to connect to one common thread. Can't wait to truly see it unravel.

[puppypeter]

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

OR

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words ��

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

[gates-keeper]

Part 1: “Words of Affirmation” Destiel Quotes & Parallels

I’m sure someone’s done this before me and done it better, but I’m compiling a huge Destiel evidence docket for no reason. Anyone got any quotes to add?

Comments From Outside Characters

To Dean

Uriel: “He has this weakness. He likes you.” (4x10)

Balthazar: “You have me confused with the other angel. You know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you.” (6x17)

Hester: “The first time Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost.” (7x21)

Meg: “He was your boyfriend first.” (7x23)

Charlie: “What about Castiel? He seems helpful. And dreamy.” (8x20)

Marie: “Although we do explore the nature of Destiel in Act 2.” (10x5)

Sam: “Shouldn’t it be Deastiel?” He then goes on to tease Dean with “Sastiel” which Dean takes negatively. (10x5)

Dean: “This Cas is looking at me weird.” Sam: “So like the real Cas then.” (15x14) 

To Castiel

Hannah: “We gave you our trust. Don’t lose it over one man.” (9x22)

Metatron: “His true weakness is revealed. He’s in love…with humanity.” (9x22)

Metatron: “Oh, that’s right. To save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but, ultimately, it was about saving one human, right?” (9x23)

Ishim: “I’m going to cure you of your human weakness [i.e. Dean]” (12x10)

The Empty: “I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love…There is nothing for you back there.” (13x4)

Demon: “I thought you were joined at the… (looks down) everything.” (14x01)

There are also several instances where other characters try to poke at insecurities regarding their relationship.

Naomi: “You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way.” (8x19)

Casifer: “There comes a time when every relationship has run its course.” (11x18)

Michael!Dean: “You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he ‘gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.’ Or whatever.” (14x10)

Comments From Dean

To Cas

“There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. And two, you are not going to die a virgin.” (5x03) 

“So what? I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” (5x03)

“You know what? Blow me, Cas.” (5x18)

“Cas, not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” (5x18)

“Look, I don’t need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I’ve failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don’t need it!” (8x07)

“We need you. I need you.” 

For more on this quote see the “We vs. I” section.

To Other Characters

Bobby: “I think maybe it’s time you made a call.” Dean: “Why does it always gotta be me that makes the call, huh? It’s not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude’s busy.” (Cas appears) Dean: “Get out of my ass.” Cas: “I was never in your… (head tilt)” (6x19)

“On my car…. He showed up naked… covered in bees.” (7x23)

While Cas suffered from some mental issues at the time, it seems somewhat significant that he sought Dean out under the circumstances, not Sam, etc.

“There’s things… people… feelings that I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.” (10x16)

“My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here” (12x12)

“He came into my room and he played me.” (12x19)

“Let’s see. Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is—Mom’s gone.” (13x01)

Dean’s inability to list Cas’s death singles him out as the most devastating of the losses.

“We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back.” (13x01)

While some people have heard this as “bring ‘em back”, the Netflix captions and transcripts I have been able to find say “him.”

“And Cas bought it. And you know what it got him? It got him dead! Now you may be able to forget about that, but I can't!” (13x03)

“I have a family.” (In response to John Winchester lamenting Dean doesn’t have a wife and kids) (14x13)

Comments From Cas

To Dean

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt.” (4x16)

“I’m hunted. I rebelled. And I did it—all of it—for you.” (5x02)

“I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me.” (5x18)

“I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call.” (6x21)

“So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord.” (6x22)

Before taking on the role of God, Cas seemed very concerned with Dean’s forgiveness/acceptance/love. It is interesting that, as God, that was the first thing he asked for, turning from Sam (who had just stabbed him) to Dean to ask for love.

“Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me.” (10x22)

“I love you. I love all of you.” (Arguably to the group, but the first “I love you” can be seen as Dean-specific, especially since it cuts to Dean after being said.) (12x12)

“You mean too much to me. To everything.” (12x9) (To Mary, Sam, and Dean. However, the camera immediately cuts to Dean specifically, even though he is in the back of the group).

“I’m your Huckleberry.” (13x06)

Cas love confession (15x18)

To Other Characters

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” (6x03)

“I won’t hurt Dean.” (8x17)

This is said as Castiel is breaking away from Naomi’s mind control—mind control she fostered specifically by having Cas kill a thousand versions of Dean. This implies she knows that Cas’s strongest loyalty is to Dean, not Sam, or humans in general.

“The point is that they [Dean & Sam] were here at all and you got to know them, you -- When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.��� (14x14)

“You know, Dean, he... he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known.” (15x13)

Other Comments

Reaper: “How do I start looking for this... Castiel?” Bartholomew: “I got one word for you. Winchester.”

Rowena: “An Angel of the Lord, shattered at the altar of Winchester.”

Use of We vs. I

In the crypt scene in Season 8, Dean tells Cas, “We need you.” This is not enough to stop Cas’s actions. When the language switches to “I need you,” Cas drops the angel blade.

We can clearly see that Dean tries to put up barriers about how he really feels about Cas in his use of “We.” For example, after showing the audience many scenes of Dean, not Sam, frantically trying to call Cas, we get the following lines:

“So not only were you ditching us, but you were also ignoring us?”

“With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay.”

It’s clear that these “we’s” are really “I’s”

In the alternate future presented in 15x9, Sam asks Dean, “What’s happened to you Dean… ever since…?” to which Dean responds, “Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we’ve ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy and I had to bury him in a Malak box… ever since then?” While he acknowledges Sam’s losses as well, his switch to “I” in reference to Cas implies that Cas’s loss belongs especially to him.

(Mostly) Verbal Parallels to Other Couples

In 1x01 (start at 2:27), Dean pulls Sam away from a dead Jess in a direct parallel to how Sam pulls Dean away from Cas in 12x23

Following Jessica’s death, Sam keeps seeing glimpses of her as he and Dean travel around in the Impala. Dean does the same in Season 8 following his return from Purgatory without Cas.

David from “Bloodlines” (9x20) tells his love interest, “I was there. Where were you?” which is the same thing Dean says to Cas in “The Man Who Would Be King” (6x20)

When asking Dean whether he’s in love with Cassie, Dean gives a similar response to what he will say in 10x5 when asked about Destiel.

Destiel is paralleled with their counterparts from the Supernatural play who are “a couple in real life” (10x5)

Cain compares himself to Dean in Season 10. He describes the significant kills of his life (The Knights of Hell, his wife Collette, and his brother Abel) and tells Dean that he will follow his same pattern by killing the King of Hell Crowley, Castiel, then Sam. It is also mentioned that all Collette asked of Cain was “to stop,” which is the same language Cas uses with Dean in 10x22.

Dean explains how his parents fell in love to prove his identity to Mary in 12x1, “He was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed.” Later in this same season (12x19), Dean gives Cas a homemade mixtape of his favorite Zeppelin songs.

Ishim fell in love with a human named Lily Sunder who ultimately left him for someone else. When trying to recruit Castiel, he compares Dean to her.

Dean questions how much of their life has been controlled by God. Cas states, “You asked, ‘What about all of this is real?’ We are.” (15x02) Later, they find out that God has been using Eileen to spy on the Winchesters. She says, “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Sam kisses her, stating “I know that was real.” (15x09)

PART 2 “Physical Touch” Now Finished

[zeroakun27]

Jimmy is an egotistical, delusional, and narcissistic person who wasn't capable to be a leader and a manipulative person as well. He r-word anya, literally make Curly not being able to do anything and literally the reason why Daisuke and Swansea died

Sunny is a child, he pushed Mari out of stress and fear, he suffered a lot due to the traumatic incident he had to witness plus the grief and guilty due to the consequences of his actions

Honestly, I am baffled as to how you think this two characters are the same, you probably need to seek a brain specialist and check your neurons, I'm sure God gave you a wrong patterns recognition. And hey maybe you can test your IQ in there and have some advice to get smarter.

Also, a friend of mine decided to come up with rebuttal

First of all, his murder of his sister was not an impulsive decision. The game doesn't indicate that Mari physically restrained him to stop him from running away. This means that instead of reacting like a realistic 12 yo child and running away to someplace safer - either his bedroom or the bathroom, which both were on the same floor they were having their argument on - Sunny consciously employed physical force.

Yes, but as we are both entitled to using non canon materials (the album captions are considered non-canon), I shall use mine:

This video: timestamp 0:35 Mari screams “Where do you think you’re going?”

Anyone with reasonable deductive skills can see what she means by this. The timeline was as follows:

Pre 0:35: Sunny attempts to get away. There would be no reason for him to pull his sister as he’s getting away, so there’s no contact, 0:35: Mari screams “Where do you think you’re going”, 0:37: Mari falls down the stairs.

Now in those 2 seconds, who is more likely to make first contact? The angry one or the one getting away.

Bingo.

Mari grabbed Sunny, closing the distance between them, and Sunny having a flight or fight response (normal for a human being, by the way) and shoving her off him, thus down the stairs.

Voila.

consistent pattern of being an ass.

Let me address each argument for you.

(Apparently) was aware of Aubrey's troubled situation at home, wasn't shown doing anything of note to help and/or support her

What can a ten to twelve year old do other than talk to their friend and make sure they’re okay? (Which Sunny did do a lot with Aubrey by the way, shown through the video montage of “Duet”).

Whined about having to help his friends build their treehouse

What twelve year old wouldn’t complain MENTALLY? It’s not being an ass, if he was, he would’ve outwardly said all those things. It’s just that mentally he doesn’t want to do it. But he does because he knows it's only fair to the others. That’s called respecting other people and compromising for them.

Threw a tantrum that resulted in the death of his sister because he couldn't watch cartoons for as long as he'd have liked

Once again, I am allowed to point at non canon as you have.

0:04: Sunny says “Gosh, you-”

0:05-0:014: Unintelligible

0:15: The violin crashes

Firstly, no one screams “Gosh, you-” without the other having not done anything.

Secondly: Do you really think Mari stayed silent for those 9 seconds of unintelligible noise?

Was throwing the violin down the stairs the best option? No. Do I think it was just caused because he didn’t get to watch cartoons? No. Mari obviously said something to provoke it.

Blamed Mari for the argument as if she forced him to practice even though he himself begged her to let him join her

Something tells me you don’t have younger siblings tbh. It’s very normal for kids to want something at first, but change their minds later after they realise the work that has to be put in. (E.g: Wanting to go to school when they’re younger but hating it as soon as they start) Also, you’re disregarding Sunny’s motive: He never wanted to do violin because he loved the violin. He just wanted to spend more time with Mari.

Also to address “ as if she forced him to practice “

You think a 15 year old whose parents booked a venue for their recital wouldn’t be pressured and in turn pressure their younger sibling into making it PERFECT? Just food for thought.

Chose to resolve his argument with Mari by violence even though he had the option to run away instead

Already addressed this :) 

Was relieved that he got away with accidentally killing his sister

For someone who has a brain and must scream, it sure seems otherwise. Do read what it says. “For a moment, you feel at peace. You hate yourself for feeling this way.” He was relieved, sure. But he hated himself for that. Because he didn’t want to feel relief.

Chose to lie to his friends by omission and let them believe they had somehow failed Mari due of the assumed nature of her death as a suicide, irreversibly scarring them

Chose to let Basil take the fall for blacking out Mari's photos in the photo album, which entailed Basil becoming the target of Aubrey's bullying and wore Basil's mental health down to near-psychosis by the time of the game's events*

Half of the game is just showing the consequences to Sunny doing that though. It's portrayed as a bad thing. It’s also realistic to those experiencing PTSD or shock. I don’t want to make this too long (it’s already 800 ish words) so just read it here https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-2035596

Walked out on Basil - his best friend - when the latter had a mental breakdown despite Basil begging him to stay

Considered leaving Basil to his death as a legitimate option, twice

Seems to have been content with thinking of doing nice things for Basil (e.g. watering Basil's plants in his dream world) as opposed to actually trying to support him in the real world

Walked out on Hero after seeing him crying over the piano

Again, just read up on the link I sent earlier. Specifically avoidance. It’s not morally correct but that doesn’t mean it’s in his control either.

Wasn't shown to feel any guilt or shame from having a picnic with the people he lied to near his dead sister's grave

I don’t know if you’ve played the game, but you like to bring up “Sunny and the player aren’t separate” so… Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe the reason Sunny doesn’t show any guilt in-game is because he’s discovering the truth as much as we, the player are? Just food for thought

Twisted the supportive words of the people he lied to to alleviate his own self-loathing over committing manslaughter

This is just a wrong interpretation entirely lmfao. The battle against OMORI isn’t a battle against self loathing. It’s a battle against the denial that kept him from telling the truth to begin with. Sunny doesn’t kill himself in the bad ending because he hates himself. He kills himself in the bad ending because he wants to hide the truth and knows he can’t do it for much longer. Why do you think he doesn’t end up killing himself in a majority of the hikikomori routes even though OMORI has taken over?

Told his friends the truth shortly before having to move town, thus avoiding the direct consequences of his confession and leaving Basil behind again to face them alone

Not exactly his choice as I’ve said earlier.

Is only concerned with how his friends' pain affects himself at the end of the day

Can’t say much about it (I’m a little stupid  and can’t be bothered to spend over an hour doing this) other than I wanna see an analysis of My Time next. Sure it's not made for the game, but it was chosen for a reason.

What Sunny did was the fault of an irrational mindset

What Sunny did was the fault of him being a child witnessing a traumatic incident being led by another child who witnessed the same incident and then the rest are just the effects of PTSD. A majority of the reason the incident took place the way it did can be explained by: Sunny’s in worse shock than Basil due to him having to process that he was the one who killed his sister, and Basil just wants to protect him. If anything, Basil's at fault.

”Lol I just got off the hook”

Lol I explained this already. You used the same point twice.

Sunny is forgivable because he was a child who was not in a good rational mindset and made an impulsive decision with much more dire consequences than anticipated

Jimmy is not forgivable because he was an adult who had to make several conscious decisions to do what he did and does nothing but repeat his horrible behaviour

Both games are about forgiveness but two completely different ends of that spectrum. Omori is about how forgiveness can be healing and help those recover, and mouthwashing is about how sometimes forgiveness does nothing but enable horrible people to continue their abusive behaviour

[hunflowers]

okay inspired by dwd suit wearing harry :) enjoy *nose boops*

You haven’t seen Harry in a couple months now. At least not physically, what with guidelines for his new movie and the restrictions of quarantine in general.

Whenever his name does pop up on your phone you can’t hide the smile that breaks out onto your face, especially when it’s a facetime call so you can see him in real time. This day however was a little different. He texted you bright and early -- at least for him because of the time difference -- saying he won’t be able to talk much because a busy day lies ahead of him. A frown nestled into your features at the misfortune, but you replied back with understanding.

Whenever his name does pop up on your phone you can’t hide the smile that breaks out onto your face, especially when it’s a facetime call so you can see him in real time. This day however was a little different. He texted you bright and early -- at least for him because of the time difference -- saying he won’t be able to talk much because a busy day lies ahead of him. A frown nestled into your features at the misfortune, but you replied back with understanding.

It came as a surprise a couple hours later though, when he texted you a picture of himself in a full body mirror, adorned in a caribbean blue suit and a matching striped tie, with the message of Do you like it?

Your mouth dropped at the sight, and you’re pretty sure a bit of saliva slipped past your lips too. His hair was parted in meticulous manner that truly gave him the proper 50s vibe, and his clean shaven face was the true cherry on top that had your heart beating in your chest. You wanted to pull him close, preferably by the tie around his neck, and plaster lipstick stains across his jaw while carding your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you rocked your hips together.

You had to close your legs at the wormhole your brain was going into, biting your lip into your mouth as you wished he were next to you. I like it a lot :(

Why the sad face?

Because I want to rip it off of you.

You giggled as you saw the daunting three dots appear then disappear a few times, before he replied with a quick Don’t start. He’s at work, so it’s selfish to rile him up especially when it seems he’s about to shoot his next scene, but you couldn’t stop the wink face you sent back along with:

Can’t stop thinking of me on my knees for you. 

Wouldn’t you like that? 

Unbuttoning your pants and pulling the zipper down with my teeth just like you taught? Leaving the whole suit on as you fuck my mouth? 

Hearing me gagging for you, choking on you as I feel you down my throat.

As much as you think you’re making him suffer, you’ve punished yourself just as badly. You were mindlessly watching your current TV fixation, sipping on a glass of wine, but now all you could think about was him and how he wasn’t by your side to help you out. 

When Harry hadn’t responded for a couple minutes, you had half the mind to shove your hand in your panties and finish the job, and you were about to do it too, but you heard the familiar text tone. You pulled your phone close to you and read his daring message, causing you to bite your lip back into your mouth. 

We’ll finish this later.

But then about an hour or so later you got another text from him, this time a picture of him in a brown suit with another tie to match. He said nothing aside from a teasing smiley face, because he knew the game he was playing. The brown one brought out the color of his eyes more, making you ogle just a little harder than the first, and making you crave him even more.

So, you got up from your spot on the couch and marched up to your room to find something to send back. You searched high and low for something worth your time until you finally found a time-piece. A light blue, see-through babydoll dress that you hadn’t worn since your first anniversary together. It came with a matching light blue thong and lace collar piece that you remember Harry practically frothing over the sight.

You quickly changed into it, and pulled your hair back before stepping closer to the full-length mirror in your closet. You angled yourself in a desirable way, and even brought your free hand’s thumb up to your mouth and nibbled on the tip of it as you snapped the picture. Satisfied with the photo on the fourth try, you sent it with a taunting caption of a typed heart.

He opened your message almost instantaneously, but had left you on read which caused your heart to sink a bit in your chest. But, you attributed it to him being called to set and picked your chin up and waltzed back downstairs in your new attire. You picked up your wine glass and continued with your show, simply waiting.

As time ticked on and your body grew sleepier, you were tempted to call it a night and text him saying you would continue this — whatever this is — tomorrow. But you kept your determination, because you missed your boyfriend and even if he couldn’t touch you, you knew he was going to make you cum. And besides, just when you started doubting him, that’s when he decided to ring you.

You picked up the phone giddily, the connecting ... under his name taunting you before his beautiful face popped up on your screen. You were ready to chirp a greeting at him, excited to talk to him after a long day but he was quicker to the punch.

“Y/N... y’had to send that while I’m working, did ya? Fuck, babe, do you understand how difficult it was to focus on set with that at the back of m’mind?” He ran his ring-less fingers through his shorter hair, and you noticed he was back in his hotel room. That’s a good thing, you thought, now you had no restrictions.

You pouted at him mockingly, “Oh no, you poor thing.”

He blinked at you once, then twice, before stating, “Get up. Let me see you.”

Because you were still downstairs, you trekked back up to your room, going over to the original mirror you took the photo in before flipping the camera around and showcasing yourself. You toyed with the hem of the dress, picking it a bit to give him a better viewing of your panties, to which he groaned in response.

“I’ve missed that little number. Remember the night you wore it? Could hardly walk for days after.”

You let out a breath at the thought, bringing your hand down and slightly grazing your throbbing clit for him to see, just at the mere thought.

He continued, “But that’s why you put it on isn’t it? Because you know it’s my favorite and I’m not there to put my hands on you. You wanted to get back at me for the pictures I sent — which, hardly even compare.”

You nodded your head in response, flipping the camera back around to face you as you stepped out of the closet and onto your bed. “Want you to miss me just as much as I miss you.”

“Oh, baby.... Words can’t describe how much I miss you. Look, I’ll show you how much I miss you,” and then the next thing you know, is he’s flipping the camera around and showing you his very hard cock.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, your free hand dipping into your baby blue thong and swiping your dripping folds and circling your wetness across your clit. “Show me how much you miss me too.”

You flipped your camera back around, letting him see your fingers slowly working your clit, hidden beneath the fabric of your panties. He groaned, telling you to give him a closer look, so — as comfortably as you could — you pushed your thong to the side and angled your phone so he had a better view of your soaked pussy.

“Shit Y/N– Push two fingers inside, imagine it’s me doing it,” he told, and you could see his fist beginning to pump his cock at a faster rate, him most likely imagining your smaller hand stroking him just like you usually do. You listened to him, inserting your ring and middle finger inside your wet hole, while keeping the heel of your palm pressed against your sensitive bud.

“Baby... I need you so bad,” you whined, softly hitting your front wall as you curled your fingers, before fastening your movements — like you know he would.

You watched him spread his precum around his shaft, paying extra attention to his tip before he thrusted his hips up into hand. “Ugh- I know baby, I need you too. Just a little while longer. Fuck yourself for me, y’can do that can’t you?”

You hummed back, picking up the pace of your hand, going the extra mile and pushing a third finger inside, causing you to screw your eyes shut in ecstasy.

“Wish it was you fucking me right now. Your big cock inside my tight pussy - shit - you fill me so good.”

You heard him groan at your words, mumbling a quiet ‘keep going,’ because he’s always been a fan of your dirty talk.

“Want your hand around my throat... squeezing me as I squeeze you. Wish you were hitting the spot only you could reach. God, want to feel me stretched around you, leaving me sore for days after you’re done. Do you want that too?” You felt the heat in the pit of your belly begin to stir, your palm pressing harder against your sensitivity.

“Could imagine your face pressed into the mattress as I take you from behind. Your tits in my hands — I miss them. Want m’mouth sucking on you... can’t cum yet, don’t even think about it, Y/N.”

You whined at the restriction, feeling your impending high reaching you. So, you helped him to his quicker. “H, H, H... miss having my lips around you. Love when you mess up my lipstick and it’s smeared all around you, mixed with saliva and cum. Never forget about your balls either, I kiss ‘em and suck on them, give them just the right amount of attention. Know you love when I press my finger into you too, hearing you moan until you’re coming down my throat.”

Back and forth for a few moments all you both could do was moan, wishing the other were by your side as you sent yourself into euphoric oblivion.

“Can I cum now? Please, please,” you begged, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“So close, babe, so – holy fuck — so close,” he murmured, twisting his wrist and keeping more of his focus on the base of dick now. “G’na cum with me?”

You whispered a ‘yes’ in response, your thighs beginning to shake as your toes curled into the bed sheets. Within seconds, hot lava coursed through your body as flashes of white danced across your eyes, you back arching off the mattress. You could hear Harry hitting his climax, your eyes opening quickly to watch him spray his orgasm all over his fist and stomach. 

You nestled your head into your pillow as you brought the phone back up to your face, your eyes falling close as you let your body relax. Harry turned the camera back to him, getting up from his position to wash himself. You would get up eventually too, but you just laid and calmed yourself in the mean time as you watched him.

“Miss you,” you mumbled, tears threatening to break past your waterline as you wished you could snuggle up to him.

He looked at you, his mouth forming into a pout as you could hear the sink water running from the bathroom. “I know. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be home.”

[natromanxoff]

(x)

THIS is Freddie's song:

Just think of all those hungry mouths we have to feed,

Take a look at all the suffering we breed,

So many lonely faces scattered all around,

Searching for what they need.

Is this the world we created,

What did we do it for,

Is this the world we invaded,

Against the law,

So it seems in the end,

Is this what we’re all living for today,

The world that we created.

You know that everyday a helpless child is born,

Who need some loving care inside a happy home,

Somewhere a wealthy man is sitting on this throne,

Waiting for life to go by.

Is this the world created, we made it on our own,

Is this world we devastated, right to the bone,

If there’s a God in the sky looking down,

What can he think of what we’ve done,

To the world that He created.

The Greatest Show on Earth

By DAVID WIGG

FREDDIE MERCURY will sing a song tomorrow which sums up the message of the entire Live Aid spectacle.

Called Is this the World We Created? Freddie will perform the poignant number just before the finale, accompanied by co-writer and fellow Queen member Brian May on acoustic guitar.

"Strangely enough, we wrote this song long before the Live Aid project," says Freddie. “But everyone decided it fitted the occasion. It's about the unnecessary suffering and starvation among children all around world."

Mercury will appear twice on tomorrow's sensational global bill. First, at 6.40 p.m. when Queen play some of their greatest hits including Bohemian Rhapsody — “We are playing songs that people identify with to make it a happy occasion” — and then again at 9.30 p.m. to perform Is This The We World Created? which was featured on Queen's The Works album last year.

Queen have cancelled all other engagements to take part in the Wembley concert.

Mercury first became aware that he was luckier than a lot of children when he attended an English boarding school in India, and discovered through a boy’s eyes the plight of the country’s poor.

So does he offer his services for a charity event like Live Aid out of gratitud for his own good life or out of guilt?

“I’m certainly not doing it out of guilt,” says the 38-year-old superstar. “I don’t feel guilty just because I’m rich. Even if I didn’t do it the problem would still be there. It's something that will sadly always be there.

“The idea of all of this is to make the whole world aware of the fact that this is going on. By making this concert we are doing something positive to make people look, listen, and hopefully donate.

"Neither should we be looking at it in terms of us and them. When people are starving it should be looked upon as one united problem.”

He openly admitted that when he sees TV film of Africa’s starving millions he has to switch off his set. “It disturbs me so much I just can’t watch it,” he says.

FORCE

"Sometimes I do feel helpless and this is one of those times I can do my bit.

"Bob Geldof has done a wonderful thing, because he actually sparked it off. I'm sure we all had it in us to do that, but it took someone like him to become the driving force, and actually get us all to come together.

"You have got to have a certain status for this kind of show. That's what Geldof realised, and he has succeeded in persuading the world's biggest-established rock stars to appear for nothing. He is trying to raise as much money as possible, and to achieve that he needed the cream of th music business."

*All lyrics (C) 1984 Queen Music Ltd/EMI Publishing Ltd.

[Photo caption: Magic… Mercurial music from Freddie]

[annieharkness]

Glimpses: Part 5 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 / previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Just a random Morning.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I’m sorry this is rather short once again, but the middle of the week is usually my busiest time with uni and work and all. @zafirosreverie​ keeps saying that you guys are most likely happy about every single word posted, so I hope nobody actually minds if some chapters turn out to be a little shorter than others. Besides that: Enjoy! Hope everyone is having a great day!

_____________________________________________________________________________

It’s been four days since you’ve left the hotel. That’s four days in which you haven’t heard from Kathryn. It drives you crazy and gets to you more than you want to admit. You’ve talked to Alex about it and the both of you agreed that she must be very busy right now because there is no reason for her to ghost you. Or is there? 

You have to listen to Alex more. She always preaches how worrying doesn’t make any sense. “Worrying only means that you suffer twice, Sweetheart.“, she says and sometimes you feel like that’s the smartest thing someone has ever told you.

It’s time to pace up and down in your room, again. Your phone has become you biggest enemy and you know it’s childish, you really know, but you just wanted all of this to mean something  to her, too, and the realization setting in that it doesn't just doesn’t sit right with you. Looking at the clock on the wall, you realize it’s just past 11 and your mom should be back from her shopping spree any minute. You stayed home, even though you had your day off today. But considering your current worries, you just didn't feel like leaving the house.

The problem about all of this is that your dear Kathryn Hahn doesn’t have social media, which is why you have no clue what’s happening in her life right now, at all. But then again, there is not much happening lately, anyway, so how much could there be to tell you? Wandavision just aired and she had lots of press to do, which is now finally calming down again. Good for her.

Your life is boring, too. In between university and work, you’ve got time for an occasional movie night with Alex over Facetime here and there, but other than that everything is going kinda slow right now. On second thought, though, how boring can life be when you literally just met your favorite actress? Ironic, that you’ve met her before you’ve met Alex. Online friendships are wild.

A noise right outside of your window grabs your attention and you move your blinds to check on it. It’s a beautiful summer day, the sky is blue, the bluest kind and the clouds up there are so tiny and fluffy, it reminds you of little pieces of cotton candy. You keep your blinds closed all day in summer since it gets pretty hot in LA and, coming from upstate, you don’t enjoy that as much as the locals. Looking straight down in front of your house, you see your mom, who is just arriving home, about to unpack groceries from the back of her car. Tossing your phone onto your bed, you run downstairs to lend her a helping hand. 

Your mom, a sweet lady with dark hair and loving eyes, is very thankful as you appear at the front door and plants a short kiss on your temple before handing her bags to you. “Thank you, dear.“ You smile. It has always been just your mom and you and the relationship you guys were having is great. Even though you don’t agree on everything, life with her is easy and you feel at peace knowing she is around. In a way, your mom is your best friend, too.

When you came out to her, just a while back, she wasn’t shocked or anything, no, quite the opposite actually. After you told her all about it, it felt like she was loving you just a tad bit more for truly being you. She actually supports you in everything you do. Thinking about that, you squint your eyes trying not to cry, since it is still making you very emotional.

You place the bags on the counter and help her sort through them to put the groceries away. “Thank you so much, Y/N.“

She walks past you and shortly places her hand on your forearm as she puts her bag down on a kitchen chair.

Your home is more than big enough for the both of you. The ground floor is pretty much an open space with a beautiful white marble-colored kitchen that leads into a living room that is characterized by a large mint green couch, a little darker than the mint green color that fills the walls. There is a small electronic fire place in the corner and a rather big tv is hanging on the wall. Scanning the place, your heart fills with warmth as you remember the endless hours you have spent with your mom sitting on that very couch, watching classics after classics. Movies really are your kind of thing.

Your mom sees the way you look at the space. “It’s time for another movie night soon, isn’t it, Hon?“ You nod eagerly and wrap her in a big hug.

“Yes Mom! Let’s watch something on Friday, I would love that! Your choice of movie!“ You're beaming.

Lately, with all the work and school stuff you have going on and the time you spend online, you feel like you are losing touch with your mom a little, even though you try to eat dinner with her every single night.

Looking at your mom, you can tell how happy it makes her that you're actively making time for her. She looks at you a little too long, though. You can tell she is trying to read you by the way her eyebrow is raised, just a little, and the fact that she is holding on to the kitchen counter with one hand has her knuckles turn a little too white. Neither of you says anything as if she is waiting for you to come forward. You don’t. She sighs.

“Are you alright, Honey?“ You mom lets go of the counter and faces you directly.

For a moment, you think about if you should tell her. But tell her what? About how you have met Kathryn and, essentially, spent a night with her? You can’t. After all, Kathryn is still a stranger and she would be so mad if she knew. But at the same time your mom and you share anything and everything, so you might very well just go for it.

You consider your options, but the fact that Kathryn hasn’t contacted you yet holds you back. If it was a one time thing, she really doesn’t need to know and worry about it all. You don’t want her to worry. You opt for the option not to spill and shoot her a forced smile “It’s fine, Mom. I’m just tired and missing Alex. That’s all. As always.“

She nods and you can tell that she doesn’t fully believe you by the look she has on her face. Her eyes give away so much, you got this from her. Hiding things from other people really isn’t your best trait. But then again, you don’t want it to be. Honesty is very important to you, always has been, which is why your friendship with Alex works so well, because she is an open book ready for you to read at any given moment.

You remember the time and the fact that Alex is probably on her way to bed right now. She didn’t have the best day and you want to talk to her, just for a few minutes, before she drifts off to sleep. You tell your mom and, of course, she completely understands and tells you to just be back downstairs in an hour latest to have lunch with her. Planting a short kiss on her cheek, you grab a drink from the counter and make your way upstairs, already trying to remember where you put your phone.

It’s easier to find than you expect. When you open the door, the room is still set in darkness, the sun just barely finding its way through the blinds, but the phone, lit up by a notification that’s just coming in, illuminates the space around your bed.

Thinking it must be Alex, who is shooting her daily after-work-update your way, you jump onto your bed, kicking down half of the pillows and blankets on it in the process. You catch your favorite one, a light colored fall blanket with orange pumpkins on it, right before it touches the floor. Thank God, you think, as you pile it under your chin to use it as a pillow while you reach for your phone.

Alex had indeed texted you, but not just now. The notification lighting up your phone consisted of a picture. A platter with nicely decorated breakfast on it is looking at you, a pool (on what looks like a roof top) in the background. The caption is short, nothing special, but to you it means the world. 

„This made me think of you. xx K.“

[marwankenzarisgaylittleearring]

(re: big boi post, bc I figure not rbing it again is less walloftext)

Capitalism Dudley McMahon :( :( :(

CROSSING HIMSELF. The thing wrong w/ Nicky is, as ever, Catholicism. hardcore is flagellation. Joe: LOSE then! Nicky: fuck you so much.

Joe screenshots and retweets a crop of posts w/ the caption ‘yeah, a bell jar’ and giggles out loud, so Nicky kicks him, bodily, off of the bed.

Wanting whatever the keane v yusufnicky is in this au to take place as a staple gun match now

All of the Andy shit. Chefs kiss. Also glory days Andy and her axe Making A Metaphor abt the og dyke flag…fuck… OH ALSO-ALSO, the black parts of the face paint in the labrys-shape

In MY mind palace Nicky and Quynh are the t4t of branch this polycule and she can compare him to all manner of mid-sized predators. All those hobby lobby ‘the fastest way to get to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ needlepoints, but instead it’s ‘u access subspace through the Gender.’ What the FUCK was I talking about.

Having an ‘I’ve connect the dots (I haven’t connected shit)’ re: Booker/Copley parallels, and Andy/Nile parallels. The former as grief as a wound needing to heal, the latter as grief, as infection, which needs intervention. But all of it abt maladaptive coping. Like, Andy needs to address w/e happened with Quynh. And mb the au version of Nile not seeing her family, bc I don’t like to kill them off, is her father’s death/career change/xyz causing her to pull away from them, & she has to deal w/ that.

Is this Copley v merrick then. & Nile coming in clutch w/ the kendo stick. & Booker, as ever, having his neck broken doggy-style (love how dramatic the announcing is)

Sdhjgkdlsq not the ‘lose then’ god their dynamic is just the absolute crème de la crème truly the epitome of like. Puts them in a cage together and notes down their behaviours. <- meant that in a labrat sort of way but hello nickyjoe cage match who says no

The reason this au is so fucking good btw is the combination of like. Actual violence and bodily harm. And also the bodily harm tht comes from kicking ur boyfriend off the bed in a mean and not so gentle way, but its ok bc u kno he can take both it and u, and also you’re doing it at least 25% because it’ll give you an advantage in ur next match. But only 25%. Maybe 30%

Never seen a staple gun match. Disregard the fact that I have 10 tabs open rn to yt videos of wrestling lemme open up a couple more. Agreeing even tho I havent seen one yet because like yeah I mean. yeah. In this situation is it a tag team thing or is it like one on one w one of the two running interference. Either is so fun . <- wait now Im thinking abt the implications of a no DQ match cause obv u can cheat in a no DQ match thats kinda the point r u allowed to bring in other ppl to fight ur fight with u … no idea. Love the idea of it tho.

Also also now Im thinking of a merrick et al v guardofblack blood&guts steelcage match. Of the cool hand ang covered in blood, mjf throwing Jericho off the top variety. Of the booker realises he’s fucked up and sorta refuses to fight back & just sits there bleeding perhaps throwing himself into the punaises (forgot the word) someone brought in bc its the whole ‘i deserve to suffer thing’ variety. Thatd be so annoying. Like the guard would be annoyed extra with him like stop trying to be a martyr a) you are so stupid b) get out of the way I am TRYING to do smth here

OUGH LABRYS FACE PAINT. SECONDING THAT. SO GOOD 

“In MY mind palace Nicky and Quynh are the t4t of branch this polycule” obsessed w u. Giving this its own response to let it breathe like a fine wine Im sipping down in gulps.

Nicky & quynh is deeply underrated as a dynamic <- man who has never done anything himself to actually create a nickyquynh dynamic. Man who has always put Nicky with Andy and quynh with joe. Man who thinks he’s right on both counts because Joe and quynh also deeply underrated. Theres a (severely) unfinished fic in my drafts in which Nicky & quynh r rival wedding planners and Andy & Joe r their right hand men respectively and both couples start dating each other in shameful secrecy & then its like girl what were YOU doing at the satan’s prayer circle that is getting on ur knees to suck c— anyway where were we. Not important. Just saying all their dynamics are everything. ANYWAY YES screaming u access subspace thru the gender. Thesis statement of a very important b-plot somewhere halfway through this “”fic“” 

Maladaptive coping is, to put it mildly, the only thing worth reading abt in fic. sorry. I mean I know I legit cant say that because Ive only written one fic of that variety and its not even on ao3 bc I abandoned it but I contain multitudes I can be a hypocrite as a treat. Yelling yelling yelling abt the wound/infection situation. oh. ‘we could fix each other’ ‘we could also fix each other but we are instead going to make it so much worse. Hey Andy where did u put the blinders Im going to fix them so firmly onto my head.’ & yeah I also think that nile’s familial situation can be like. She just travels so much and has for such a long time from such a young age (olympic wrestling first & now this) all over the country to where her family can hardly follow her around all the time & maybe she goes home a little less than she maybe should and maybe she lets her phone die on purpose sometimes . Maybe she feels shame about utilising violence as a form of entertainment instead of for a Good Cause like her father did. Maybe this shame is entirely unwarranted but she’s too scared to find out bc yk. infection. Etc etc

[takes my shirt off & points @ my hardened jaw at the wrestling function] I fucking love wrestling I love low blows I LOVE THE WAY EDWARDS COMES IN I LOVE PICTURING NILE LIKE THAT. AND I DO MEAN ALL OF IT. SITS DOWN 2 PUT THE KENDO STICK IN HER MOUTH. MAKES SNOW ANGELS ON THE METAL RAMP. NOW THATS THE HASHTAG VIBE. 

[nikosheba]

The Mystery of the Vanishing Elf

First of all, this is not my meta; I’m posting this on behalf of Azh, who wrote it and wanted it on tumblr. (They did say I could take credit for bothering them to write it, and for helping kick around ideas, so I will :D)

Link to the meta on AO3

[all page numbers from the 2007 HarperCollins edition of The Children of Húrin, ISBN 978 0 00 724622 9]

Thanks to starlightwalking for beta-ing!

So I just finished reading the Children of Húrin—which, let’s be honest, I was mostly reading to get the expanded version of the Túrin and Beleg content.  So at first when I started reading the second half — after Beleg’s death — I figured the reason I was less drawn to the text was because, well, Beleg was dead and therefore was less present in the narrative.  After I’d finished the book and put it down, though, I realized it was a little more than that.  Beleg wasn’t just less present. He was completely absent. This is no exaggeration: between the last mention of Beleg’s name in Chapter IX (“The Death of Beleg”) and Túrin’s death, when Gurthang asks to forget the “blood of Beleg my master” there is a single mention of his name, and it’s only a passing description of Gurthang itself as “the Black Sword of Beleg” (pg. 237).

Túrin never says his name again.

What’s going on here?  This is, quite frankly, bizarre. The entire first half of the narrative pivots around the relationship between Túrin and Beleg.  Beleg is the one who finds Túrin when he’s just a child his mother is sending to Thingol in Doriath. Beleg is his friend when’s growing up on Doriath — one of two really mentioned, the other being Nellas — and when Túrin is grown and goes off to be with the marchwardens, “Beleg and Túrin were companions in every peril” (pg 86).  When Thingol and Mablung and everyone else are ready to assume the worst of Túrin, it’s Beleg who shows up with Nellas to tell them what really happened, and it’s notable that this means Beleg didn’t see what happened; he just implicitly trusted Túrin and was the only one to do so.  They care about each other a lot. There is a brief portion of time while Túrin is with the outlaws that they aren’t together (that’s a whole nother post in itself) but Beleg returns to Túrin on Amon Rudh, “in this way, Beleg came back to Túrin, yielding to his love against his wisdom.  Túrin was glad indeed, for he had often regretted his stubbornness; and now the desire of his heart was granted…it seemed to [the outlaws] there had been a tryst between Beleg and their caption.” (pg 139).  These boys are in love. It’s textual.  There’s only one other character Túrin is described as loving in a similar way, and it’s Níniel (Niënor), whom he marries.

In fact, it’s staggering that Níniel is the only other one (pg 218 “Turambar restrained himself no longer, but asked her in marriage”), because there is a very big elephant in the room, and it’s the person whom Níniel is occasionally compared to, Finduilas.  Finduilas is mentioned three times in the text after her death, including twice by Túrin himself in direct quotations:

- “Then Turambar who led the men started back and covered his eyes, and trembled; for it seemed that he saw the wraith of a slain maiden that lay on the grave of Finduilas.” (pg. 214, when Túrin first finds Níniel)

- "But even as he spoke, he wondered, and mused in his mind: 'Or can it be that one so evil and fell shuns the Crossings, even as the Orcs? Haudh-en-Elleth! Does Finduilas lie still between me and my doom?’” (pg. 229, when Túrin is preparing to fight Glaurung for the last time),

- “Therefore he arose and went to the Crossings of Teiglin, and as he passed by Haudh-en-Elleth he cried: 'Bitterly have I paid, O Finduilas! that ever I gave heed to the Dragon. Send me now counsel!’” (pg. 253, after he’s killed Brandir and is desperately trying to deny that Níniel was Niënor, his sister)

This is huge. And it’s huge, because Túrin is not in love with Finduilas. This, again, is explicit, and textual, "In truth Finduilas was torn in mind. For she honoured Gwindor and pitied him, and wished not to add one tear to his suffering; but against her will her love for Turin grew day by day, and she thought of Beren and Luthien. But Turin was not like Beren! He did not scorn her, and was glad in her company; yet she knew that he had no love of the kind she wished. His mind and heart were elsewhere, by rivers in springs long past.” (pg 166, ”Túrin in Nargothrond”). So.  Túrin never falls in love with Finduilas, and, in fact, the reason he doesn’t fall in love with her is that his “mind and heart are elsewhere”.  Hmmmm. I wonder where his heart is?

Okay, so then why is it that Túrin repeatedly refers to Finduilas but not to Beleg?  It’s really obvious based on the quotes I’ve given so far that he was in love with Beleg (and for god’s sake, the man doesn’t talk for a YEAR after Beleg’s death), that he was not in love with Finduilas, and that he was (or thought he was, at least) in love with Níniel, enough to ask her to marry him.  So where the hell is Beleg in his thoughts for all this time when he’s falling for Níniel and thinking back to Finduilas?

For the answer to this, we need to consider the dual nature of Níniel’s relationship to Túrin, and what its source is.

Yes, Túrin loves Níniel, as his wife, but we know he also loved his sister Niënor, as a sister, and part of the reason he kills himself is that he can’t handle that he’s driven his sister to her death via incest (albeit accidental incest).  It’s notable that Túrin loves Finduilas as a sister,

“Then Turin spoke freely to [Finduilas] concerning these things, though he did not name the land of his birth, nor any of his kindred; and on a time he said to her: 'I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she would now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair.’” (pg. 164, “Túrin in Nargothrond”.)

So these references to Finduilas make a narrative kind of sense — in addition to it mostly happening as Túrin is passing her grave, it’s a textual reminder of a hidden truth: Níniel is not just Túrin’s lover, but also his sister.  He even finds her upon the grave of someone he loved as a sister.  But there’s another truth hidden in the text as well, and it’s related to Níniel’s nature as Túrin’s lover.  Because let’s be real, if he found her on the grave of someone he loved very firmly in a non-romantic way, why does he become romantically interested in her?  She’s his sister—obviously he doesn’t know that, but the narrative is saying it very, very clearly.  Well…there’s a confounding factor.

Here’s how Túrin finds Níniel (pg. 214): “Now it chanced that some of the woodmen of Brethil came by in that hour from a foray against Orcs, hastening over the Crossings of Teiglin to a shelter that was near; and there came a great flash of lightning, so that the Haudh-en-Elleth was lit as with a white flame.”

And here is how Túrin discovers that he has killed Beleg (pg. 155): “But as he stood, finding himself free, and ready to sell his life dearly against imagined foes, there came a great flash of lightning above them, and in its light he looked down on Beleg's face.”

The narrative does draw a parallel between Níniel and Beleg, an extremely strong (if subtle) one.  It uses literally the same phrase to set up the scene: “there came a great flash of lightning”.  So there’s a pretty clear answer as to why Túrin might associate Níniel with romantic love—he doesn’t just find her on his as-it-were sister’s grave, he finds her in a way that hearkens strongly back to the last time he ever saw his lover’s face.

So why doesn’t he think of Beleg now?

Why is the thought of his lover—whose loss cut him so deeply he didn’t speak for a year—so far out of his mind at this moment that his name isn’t even mentioned, even when narratively there’s no way he shouldn’t think of him?

Okay, I’ve drawn this out enough, so let’s cut to the chase: Glaurung. Glaurung, who is responsible for the first hidden truth that I mentioned, the more textually explicit one, that Níniel is Niënor, Túrin’s sister.  He bespells Niënor upon Amon Ethir, “Then he drew her eyes into his, and her will swooned. And it seemed to her that the sun sickened and all became dim about her; and slowly a great darkness drew down on her and in that darkness there was emptiness; she knew nothing, and heard nothing, and remembered nothing,” (pg 209, “The Journey of Morwen and Niënor”) causing her to lose her memories and with her memories her name and therefore any way for Túrin to know who she is.  Glaurung earlier bespells Túrin as well, “Without fear Turin looked in those eyes as he raised up his sword; and straightway he fell under the dreadful spell of the dragon, and was as one turned to stone.” (pg. 178, “the Fall of Nargothrond”)  The first, obvious result of Glaurung’s spell (and the only explicit one) is that he leaves Finduilas and rushes off to try and find Morwen and Niënor.  Now, we’re meant to believe that this is all that the spell does, since in “The Return of Túrin to Dor-Lómin”, pg. 166, the text notes, “And suddenly a black wrath shook him; for his eyes were opened, and the spell of Glaurung loosed its last threads, and he knew the lies with which he had been cheated.”

But I don’t think this makes sense.  I think Tolkien is being poetical here and the “last threads” he’s talking about are specifically the lies about Finduilas.  A number of Túrin’s conversations with Níniel point towards the fact that he’s forgotten something really important and that in that regard the dragon’s spell is still intact.  For example, when Túrin tells Níniel what to call him (pgs 217-218, “Niënor in Brethil”):

“Then she paused as if listening for some echo; but she said: 'And what does that say, or is it just the name for you alone?'

“’It means,' said he, 'Master of the Dark Shadow. For I also, Niniel, had my darkness, in which dear things were lost; but now I have overcome it, I deem.’”

“My darkness” is eerily similar to the repeated motif of Níniel’s darkness, which explicitly refers to the spell cast on her by Glaurung.  

“Behind her lay only an empty darkness” (pg 213, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seem to her that the darkness that lay behind her was overtaking her again” (pg 214, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seemed to her that she had found at last something that she had sought in the darkness” (pg. 215, “Niënor in Brethil”); and the two most relevant quotations, “And at that name she looked up, and she shook her head, but said: 'Níniel.' And that was the first word that she spoke after her darkness, and it was her name among the woodmen ever after” (pg 216, ”Niënor in Brethil”); and “when at length she had learned enough to speak with her friends she would say: 'What is the name of this thing? For in my darkness I lost it.’” (pg. 217, “Niënor in Brethil”)

So here it is: Túrin has lost “dear things” in “his darkness” (Glaurung’s spell) and he thinks that Níniel is what he has lost, but she isn’t—or she isn’t the only thing that’s missing. Glaurung has ripped out of Túrin’s mind the memory of the only person he’s ever had romantic feelings for—Beleg—and because he’s confused and trying to find something to fill that gap, Níniel gets cast in a dual role—not just sister (with her ties to Finduilas) but also lover (with her subtler ties to poor, missing Beleg).  

This theory also has significant implications for Túrin’s death, since that’s the only time that Beleg is mentioned again, apart from a tangential sidenote.  When Mablung finally confirms to Túrin what he’s already beginning to fear is the truth, that Níniel was his sister Niënor, he runs up to the Cabed-en-Aras, from which Níniel has thrown herself, and he asks his sword to kill him. His sword is Gurthang, which was Anglachel, made by Eöl, the sword that Thingol gave to Beleg and that Túrin used to accidentally kill him, and the response is somewhat unexpected, since up till now we haven’t had any indication that it’s a talking sword,

“‘And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: 'Yes, I will drink your blood, that I may forget the blood of Beleg my master…I will slay you swiftly.’” (pg. 256, “The Death of Túrin”)

Interestingly, this is after the sword has been reforged, and there’s no particular reason it should refer to Beleg as its master — after all, Túrin has been wielding it for years, and it was made by someone else entirely.  So then, why?  And why does it ask to forget his blood in particular?

Because Túrin has remembered, finally.  Whether the sword is picking up on the mood, whether it’s a narrative device, or whether it isn’t even really talking and it’s just Túrin’s mind playing tricks on him in his last extremis, I don’t know—though I favor the latter interpretation, particularly because Túrin himself is referred to as “the Black Sword” on numerous occasions.  But the important point here is Túrin has remembered, because Glaurung is dead, and his memory spells die with him, “Then Nienor sat as one stunned, but Glaurung died; and with his death the veil of his malice fell from her, and all her memory grew clearer before her, from day unto day, neither did she forget any of those things that had befallen her since she lay on Haudh-en-Elleth.” (pg. 243, “The Death of Glaurung”)

So Túrin knows by now exactly what he’s done—not only inadvertently marrying his sister but betraying the one great romantic love of his life.  The one he has probably just remembered accidentally killing in great detail.  It’s probably quite present in his mind when, rather than throw himself over the waterfall as Níniel did, he flings himself onto the very same sword that killed the only person he was ever in love with, whose name he has finally, finally been able to bring to mind…

In sum, Glaurung erases Beleg’s memory so thoroughly from Túrin’s mind that only tiny, hidden glimpses remain, even in the text.  This is the solution to the mystery of the vanishing Elf; it explains why Beleg vanishes right up until the very end, and it ties together the sense I had when I was reading the second half of something missing, something hidden, something incomplete.  It is, I imagine, the same way Túrin must have felt after he awoke—as he thought, completely—from the spell that Glaurung laid upon him the first time they fought.

[A/N: I also wrote a fic based on this premise: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980519 ]

[crossovereddie]

Thoughts on 11x06

I had to come back to type this after the episode. I was gonna wait to post until more people are active but everyone’s safety is more important than notes. This was really hard for me to watch. It took me two hours because I kept needing a break. It’s a tough one yall. It’s heartbreaking and really brought out issues I didn’t know I was still dealing with until I reacted so badly to some stuff. Take care of yourselves and I’m here if you need to talk. I’ll have timestamps for major tws in another post coming right after this. I just gotta go back and get the end of those scenes. I only go the time they started.

Okay. So. There’s some trigger warnings that I’ve reblogged earlier. This recap WILL have thoughts about those triggers. If you think you’ll be triggered just message me or send me an ask and I’ll give you the non triggering recap. Stay safe please.

Kev and v intro. They’re having sex behind the bar

I’m extremely nervous for some reason I might not be able to get through this

Bike heist!!

LICKEY RIGHTS

LIP CALLS HIM MICK

MISSION IMPISSIBLE

Mickey is unimpressed

Lip telling Mickey what to do yes please

Fucking Mickey omg

HE LOOKS SO GOOD

THE WAY HE SAYS BRAD

Again Mickey is unimpressed

Lip :(

MICKEY CONCERNED ABOUT LIPS SOBRIETY

AGAIN I SAY LICKEY RIGHTS

Frank is falling the chick he’s boning Monica

Not sure that’s her real name

Wait yeah it is

Frank??? Has to get to work???

Wait her name isn’t Monica

Oh shut now I get what’s happening

“Can I speak to Pope Francis please” LIAM 😭

Poor baby

Lip cooking breakfast. Hot.

I forgot about camis baby

I actually beep bad for lip and Tami

We already heard this argument with Mickey and Ian get new material writers

PRODIGAL THEIF

PINK BOX HES SO CUTE

HE LOOKS SO CUTE GOTTA SQUEEZE HIM PLS

Yeah don’t tell Carl that traitor

MICKEY BROUGHT DONUTS PLS

HES SO CUTE

ITS TOO MUCH

I LOVE HIM

HIS SMILE!!!!!!!!

GALLAGHER YOUTH

THAT MEANS MICKEY TOO BYE

CARL CALLING HIM MICK TOO PLS

I CANT TAKE IT

Poor Liam he’s terrified

“I was hoping the fucker would just die” :(

Shut up Debbie

Mickey is beautiful

Leave Mickey out of it debbie goddamn

I cant fucking stand her

Frank just observing his kids and smiling

Same frank

SHUT UP DEBBIE

OH MY GOD HIS LAUGH IS THIS WHAT YOU HEAR WHEN YOU FIRST GET TO HEAVEN????

“And the smartest” lol

Someone save Liam

“I want Sandy”

We all do kid

Fucking manipulative little I CANT STAND DEBBIE

Sandy deserves better

I hate the Milkovichs!!!!

How did smart sensitive sweet beautiful loving Mickey come from this disgusting family????

MICKEY IS THE BOSS

My heart hurts so him

“Homo sexy” dear god

Mickey is too good he deserves so much better

I love him so much

Let him be happy

Mickey has the biggest heart

They’re actually talking and not fighting

CHAPO STFU

You’re so funny and smart and beautiful don’t forget that baby

SUGAR TITS

And no one is fazed lmao

“He’s actually my uncle and my dad” I fucking hate this show

I forgot Carl makes legit money now

Wtf kinda school is this

This is so fucked up

The twins are so adorable

SHUT UP DEBBIE

“You guys” I hate that but also she’s acknowledging Mickey as “hers” and he’s family :(

Okay this horrifying comment

I hate that it’s just nonchalant

Debbie just keeps talking.

Let’s move on

Mickeys face when she says “butt naked”lmao

LIP CALLING HIM MICK AGAIN

“Talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes. Please”

I LOVE IT

Mickey is unimpressed by lip once again and I’m smiling

They love each other they’re secretly best friends ITS A FACT

HAND SHAKE SO CUTE

MY BABIES

“Blue like my balls” fucking frank lol

They’re going in on Frank’s storyline now

Boss Mickey at it again

Terry’s home

The way his face falls im sick

SANDY BABY

My heart is racing

Mickeys face is breaking my heart

Great now I’m crying

Mickey got emotional

Ian sensed it and touched his neck all fucking sweet

Okay I had to take a little break because I started crying

I love him too much

Fucking Noel is so damn good

My heart is fucking breaking

“Frank’s not a homophobic psychopath who tortured you for years”

Please Mickey deserves better

I don’t wanna hear any Ian slander either.

In this house we protect my son and my son in law I will fight you

“Let’s get the fuck outta here. Lip you coming?” 😭

That was so hard to watch yall. I’m not gonna lie to you. My parents weren’t half as shitty as terry but growing up feeling unloved your whole life fucks you up anyway and that brought out some emotions and feelings I didn’t realize I still dealt with. I had to pause for a good while and cry.

Leave Sandy alone debbie

Terry is disgusting

Okay the homophobic language he uses is definitely triggering so I’ll time stamp that too

Debbie you selfish bitch

Everyone leaving terry outside it’s a yes from me

I honestly can’t concentrate on the other scenes now I’m sorry y’all

I try to cover everyone’s scenes but it’s hard for me today

I’m not okay

Liam is too innocent poor kid

MICKEY LIP AND IAN THE BEST TRIO

We need more scenes

I PAUSED TO TYPE AND THE FUCKING LOOK HES GIVING HIM STOP

They’re besties

Mickey is beautiful

MY BABY BUSINESS BOSS MAN I LOVE YOU

he really hasn’t called him Philip the entire episode wtf

Ignoring Debbie

Now I want fries

Carl is cringy

Mickey drove them home and pulled a gun

Honestly again another heartbreaking scene

Ian’s trying to make him stop

Terry is disgusting and also a coward but we’ve been knew

Noel is the most amazing

Mickey gets teary but doesn’t cry bc I cried enough for the both of us

He’s the strongest bravest ever and I’m so proud of him

I need a hug

My heart hurts so much y’all

I just want him to be happy

I’m a fucking mess

I can’t handle Lip being emotional too

Oh I thought lip wanted to sell the house for himself only but at least they all get their share

Horrible music choice

I wanna tuck Mickey in with his favorite tv show on(911) make him his favorite food to eat in bed and not let anyone but Ian around him for a good 72 hours

The way Ian is looking at him

“Would you take care of me if I was paralyzed?”

“....yeah. Yeah”

“Top you whenever I wanted” “asshole”

His smile is back that’s all I need in life

MICKEY IS TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD

RIP DOWN THAT FLAG YES BABY

“That was big of you” “he’s an asshole...I wanna be better than that”

WHEN I TELL YALL I LOST IT I MEAN FULL ON SOBBING

YOURE ALREADY A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER THAN THAT PIECE OF SHIT

YOURE SO KIND AND BRAVE AND BEAUTIFUL INSIDE AND OUT

Ian’s like “back of the head? Gotta grab and hold my boy”

“You are so much better than that” IAN MY SWEET SON IN LAW I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR LOVING OUR BOY SO WELL

IAN IS THE MOST SUPPORTIVE HUSBAND

V spitting truth

I want terry to fucking suffer

Don’t do it frank

“Nah” LMAO

Frank loves his son in law

Sandy I love you

I need to hold her

No debbie I LOVE HER

NO SANDY LOVE ME INSTEAD

DEBBIE DOESNT DESERVE YOU

Carl scene was so awful I feel so bad for him this girl is a fucking psycho

That was an actual rape scene what the fuck

Mickey making frank laugh

Debbie explaining? Really?

I hate her

“How long is this gonna take? I’m fucking starving Lip” WHY WONT YOU CALL HIM PHILIP

“We could get on with our lives” well that hurt more than it should’ve

It’s really the end soon huh? 😢

According to captions Ian says “we’re in”

Frank reads his diagnosis

Carl goes to report his rape

That took me nearly two hours to watch. Yeah I usually pause to type but I had to take long breaks after the hard scenes. It was a really hard episode to watch. A lot darker than it has been. I’m not really okay right now. It was emotional but a really good episode overall.