#oh my god it was good advice. thats really good advice jesus

[crunchycrystals]

every single time i get feedback on something i get a pit in my stomach and i go like oh im gonna be sick im actually gonna be sick and then i take forever to work up the courage to ask for the feedback or read it and then its literally fine. like 90% of the time they like it or give me really good feedback that helps me improve it and im just a trembling mess for no reason anyways my hands are shaking as i type this its time to fucking read the comments i just got

[2knightt]

hiii I was wondering if u could do smth for the outsiders? Like Darry has a s/o who is the mother figure for the gang and often Johnny n pony call her ma / mom? I js thought it was sooo cute but if not it’s also okay dearrr

darry curtis x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.fem!reader

2.swearing

3.probably ooc LMFAO

darry would literally love you. oh my god.

you’re caring???? you help take care of the gang??? you help ponyboy with homework???

you might as well rip his heart out of his chest cause it’s already yours!

the gang loves you, probably even more than darry does!

but to darry, that’s impossible.

you’re heaven sent to him. he truly believes you’re a miracle!

when he’s stressed out, you’re right there to help him destress!

giving him a massage, giving him tea, shit maybe even all of the above if you feel like it.

“jeez dare, stop overworking yourself so much! you’re gonna die some day because of it!”

“no i won’t, been doin’ it for so long i’ve gotten used to it.”

“thats even worse!!”

when you cook for him he will GOBBLE it up.

homie can taste the love you put in and he thinks it makes the food taste 100x better.

but even you have stressful days! but, expect darry to treat you like a princess!

he will not let you leave his bed, he is getting everything you want.

water? done. a book? already in your hand. a fucking car? he’s wasting all his money for you!

he will follow you to hell if you ask him nicely.

he just loves you so much.

when he somehow get’s hurt in rumbles he’s so glad you’re there to patch him up.

but he isn’t glad that he gets an earful from you.

“you know i hate these things. why do you out of all people go darry? you’re better than this.”

he just grumbles because he doesn’t even want to answer anything with a black eye that’s slowly forming on his right eye.

the gang is so thankful that you can patch them up too. they sometimes fight over who you’re gonna help next.

“i’m goin’ after darry!”

“SODA! YOU’VE GONE SECOND FOR LIKE 3 TIMES IN A ROW. IT’S MY TURN!!”

“PISS OFF TWO-BIT.”

“actually it’s my turn.”

“shut the hell up steve.”

“AYE!”

ponyboy’s just happy he has a mother figure in his life again. his mom was definitely his favourite parent, so now that he has someone to replicate that, he’s on the moon.

he only calls you mom or ma in private, he’s too embarrassed to say it with others in the room.

BUT, he definitely lets the mom calling slip accidentally infront of the gang.

“mom, do you need help with the dishes?”

“MOM?!”

“WHAT?!?”

pony just looks down in embarrassment until you chuckle and agree to him helping you. then he’s all smiles and sunshine!

darry is so happy to see this you don’t get it.

darry asks for advice from you to get to know ponyboy better since he rambles on and on about whatever he’s most interested in at the time.

“so uh, about ponyboy…”

“oh! he really likes ‘gone with the wind’, i know you don’t have much time to read so, i can just tell you the important stuff!”

he just nods and stares at you as you talk about the characters, the main plot, and the small details ponyboy’s obsessed with.

he’s taking mental notes and thanking you heavily when you’re finished talking!

“thank you, y/n. really. i appreciate all you do for me.”

“awe! of course, babe. anything for you.”

he’s giggling and blushing at the last sentence

he’s so thankful that you’re there to talk some sense into the gang.

sometimes he sits on the sidelines and just watches.

“DALLAS WINSTON. WHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH WERE YOU THINKING PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

“I’M SORRY! JESUS.”

dallas just throws his hands in the air in defeat, knowing that no matter how much he apologizes you’ll continue to scold him.

but he listens, he doesn’t do whatever he did for awhile.

darry just chuckles at the sight.

his mom used to scold dallas like that, so seeing you do the same brought back good memories for him.

being around you just reminds him of the ‘good old days’ so when he’s around you his mood immediately lifts.

like he could be yelling at ponyboy to raise his grades and you could walk in and darry would go “AND STUDY MO- oh hey babyyy!!☺️☺️”

everyone’s eternally grateful for you.

ESPECIALLY JOHNNY GOOD LORD.

he goes to you for literally everything.

something bad happened to him?? he’s at your front door! something good happened to him??? he’s right beside you telling you about it!

yeah, he calls you mom too.

he doesn’t mean to though! he just looks up to you so much, he’s always seen you has a mother figure but he never thought he’d actually call you mom!

“hey ma, does my hair look tuff!?”

“huh?”

he’s FROZEN in place. he’s so embarrassed, he’s literally overheating.

you just giggle to yourself and say his hair does infact, look extremely tuff.

he walks away smiling with a little hop when he walks.

the gang fights over your attention with darry.

they ain’t got a good life at home, but if you give them the motherly love they’ve been missing? they will kill someone for you.

darry loves and hates this.

he loves that you and the gang get along. he can’t be with someone the gang doesn’t like, but he hates that they like you so much they talk to you 24/7.

he sometimes just snatches you while you’re talking to someone in the curtis house.

like you could be talking to sodapop and he’ll come behind you and grab you by the waist and carry you into his room.

all that while soda chases him down, yelling nonsense.

“DARRY! I WAS TALKING TO HER.”

“that’s crazy…”

overall, darry would definitely look for a mother-like lover.

he needs it fr🙏

author notes;

1.EVERYONE SHUT UP THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST I CANT

2.when i read dear i lowkey giggled and kicked my feet

3.should i make a taglist??!!???? would literally anyone like to be tagged in my outsiders fics?!!!????

4.i really hope i did this justice LMFAO

5.btw if you’ve DMed me im not ignoring you, im working up the courage to talk to you. im a very nervous person😭😭

may 11th, 2023. 10:18PM.

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

MAKING A POST ABOUT MY OLD PJO OCS LESGOOOOOO

Arlo Cannon

they/he, child of apollo

kind of a dumbass. this boy is only alive because of sheer dumb luck. he may be a half blood but you will have to pry "oh my god" and "jesus christ" out of his cold dead southern hands. he can play a few instruments and sing kinda well but hes annoying about it. he once wouldnt stop playing megalovania on the piano to annoy the other apollo kids. has a mental breakdown if he has to think about his feelings for more than thirty seconds.

Maximillian "max" Maxwell

they/them, child of ares

insecure about being insecure. dresses like a lumberjack. will kill you if you call them maxmax. bi disaster. my friend once said theyre giving man on tinder holding up a fish in their pfp vibes. wields an axe. they're 4'8 and yet still manage to contain the rage of a thousand suns.

Sullivan "sulli" O'Malley

she/her, daughter of athena

weird little trans girl. eleven years old. much like an owl shes strange, wise, and has a wide eyed unblinking stare. shes very much an athena kid but first and foremost shes her fathers daughter. aroace icon. homeschooled. has a fucked up sleep schedule to the point of being pretty much nocturnal. thinks camp half blood is weird and would much rather be with her dad every summer. autistic.

Quinn Evangeline

they/she/he, child of aphrodite

thinks hes alot cooler than they actually are. aromantic. loves to give love advice thats either really good or ends up crashing and burning. dyes their hair blonde. holds a grudge against her mom. their mortal dad is married to a man giving them two dads. has THE BEST fashion sense. thought he was a lesbian when they first realised shes not attracted to men.

Cameron Flores

he/him, child of hermes

quinns best friend. the day his executives start functioning its over for you all. gay disaster in all directions. acts and kinda looks like a tiktok fuckboy. often gossips with quinn in the back of aphrodite cabin. quinn made him swear not to date any of the aphrodite kids. devious little fucker. i hate him/aff

tagging @daggerhobbit @possibly-astraeus @fakevariety @o-kye

[jazzically]

OK I FINISHED S4!!!! lot to catch up on. OHHHH MYYYY GOD. OG MY GOD

that literally broke me im

i think this series would work really well as a comic i can see it in my mind

i NEED to draw so many things from 159 but i cant draw

OH MY GOD OHH MY GOD AAAAAH MY FRICKING HEART

you know what i dont care this post is gonna be all about jmart/mag 159 the last!!!!!!! (well mostly) screams and cries and dies

i really loved you, you know?

i started like. shaking and crying (but without the tears which was really weird maybe i'm dehydrated) right in the middle of peter's statement ahfskhdkdmdudndj

i had my earbuds in and the sound design was brilliant. the way martin's voice was like floating around and around....!!!!!! it made me think of the final bossfight from LN1 [minor spoilers for little nightmares 1] where the lady is just zooming around the dark periphery and six has to fend her off with a mirror

also the Lonely? i have a picture of the beach that happens to match what i imagined almost exactly:

wow the clouds kinda make the shape of an eye now that i think about it. ANYWAY I LOVE THEM SO MUCH SILLY LITTLE DOOMED MEN oh my god the extent to which i was rooting for them was probably unhealthy i was SO SO SO scared that he wouldnt find martin ever again because of what alex said in the s3 qna BUT FALSE ALARM THEY'RE OKAY!!!!!!! jesus christ i got so afraid UGHHHDDHHDDBKDBFKDBDK ofbsiskdbdkhdiabsk

i was kinda mad at jon for the entirety of s4 but its okay because he's entering his redemption arc!! [he brings Armageddon by being compelled to read jonas's statement] .....never mind anyway bros character development is coming along fantastically and the final reveals in the last few eps of s4 got me squealing OH MY YYYYHSISBSOAHSKSBDKDBDOSHAOSPDL

MARTIN DID IT ALL FOR HIM

the writing for that episode screwed me up and i went to bed and woke up brain rotting on TMA i probably even dreamed about it who knows

sobning my eyebalsf out that was SO GOOD

i cannot believe im only 40 episodes away from finishing it??? thats making me really want to slow down and basically.......listen through the first 4 seasons a second time before starting s5..... like genuinely i might do it. or at least s4. advice is welcome.. i love it i love it i am so sorry to myself that i gave it up earlier when my friend first recommended it to me (and again when another friend recommended it to me; jeez m attention span needs work)

UGH JOHN THE ARCHIVE IS INSANE IM

explodes into a pile of happy brain chemicals

[wc-wild-rewrite]

Rising Storm reread!

Overall, 9.5/10, thoughts at the bottom of the post. Half point removed for having an odd pacing, not much technically happened but also a lot happened as well, i always think the events of this one are in forest of secrets.

Prolouge

Huh, they actually foreshadow the second arc and skyclan, neat

Careful Runningnose, i dont like the way you phrased that

Ooo spooky omens, i like it

Chapter 1

Im retracting my statement from last book, i dont like cloudpaw

Tigerclaw was banished a quarter moon ago

Might be harsh, but fireheart's right, cloudpaw's gotta learn respect for the prey

More exposition, but placed better, feels more like his memories than the authors

Willowpelt is expecting

Why have ash and fern not been apprenticed yet, their a moon older than cloud

Thank you whitestorm for helping our boy with patrols

In fireheart's defense, its hard to keep track of where one cat is, nevermind a whole clan

Aww hi brightpaw

So mistlekit is still alive, eh? Kit survived the whitecough bought

Unfortunatrly the elders werent incorrect in their worry

I like this start, the writing is far smoother

Chapter 2

"Your eyes have always betrayed your heart" i really like that line

Fireheart being scared of a kitten is shockingly in character, same tom who overthought a mossball comment

I like the implication that bluestar and leaders generally visit the nursery a lot

Ah, theres the slightly jarring exposition

I love whitestorm so much

I know it wasnt canon at the time of writing the book, but i like that whitestorm's the one to be concerned, thsts his auntie

Honestly i can't blame bluestar for losing trust so fast, being backstabbed like that can really mess with your head, i've seen it happen

But thats also really sad, she was so happy to announce cloudpaw's ceremony last book

Cloudpaw has been an apprentice for a half moon

Fireheart, lets not continue with the pity

Cinderpaw was made yellowfang's apprentice a moon and a half ago

From an author persepctive, not a fan of cinderpaw's worry here, but from a character perspective, i understand her, its a lot to learn, especially at such a young age with people's health at stakr

Ok i understand why he chose darkstripe instead of sandstorm, no need to risk more clan unease at the moment, but god i hope he explains this rationally to sandstorm

Chapter 3

I know bluestar's aggression is a bad thing, but she's got a point, two attacks in one moon means you gotta keep some around

Cloudpaw being annoying, as usual

Ash and Fern, yay!

Chapter 4

Oo, i like the imagery of that nightmare

Ah, here's bluestar's...not mania, i dont think thats the word, but impulsiveness, maybe

Haha runningwind doesn't like cloudpaw, cant blame him

I like bluestar in book 2 was like "runningwind is a good cat but he wouldnt be good with apprentices" and he keeps getting stuck with apprentices

Chapter 5

Exposition part 3

Even with her mind clouded, her instincts are sharp

Yay bluestar's happy

Oh nevermind

Ah, hello mudclaw, not the last time your gonna cause trouble

Bluestar no-

Chapter 6

Goddamn it cloudpaw

Both runningwind and fireheart are increasingly exasperated with him

Fireheart, your the most patient cat on earth for putting up with cloudpaw for so long, lets hope it pays off

Chapter 7

Quarter moon since the moonstone attempt

Graystripe has been in riverclan for nearly a moon

Greenleaf is furball season

Stop looking at him, your making him nervous

Chapter 8

Ok, wildly abrupt time cut

Littlecloud was 3 moons old when he was apprenticed in the first book

Jesus, poor kit

Damn, i feel bad for these two

This whole time and no one was aware of these paths?

Chapter 9

Not sure how i feel about this new sandstorm

Oh look Fireheart, cloudtail took your advice from the first book

Chapter 10

I know hes written as arrogant, and he is very arrogant, but his confused look there gives me "autist who needs a rule to be explained far more bluntly" vibes, as one myself

Willowpelt's kitting

Aw no poor cinderpaw

Oh, cinderpelt. When'd she get her name?

Two she-cats and a tom, eh? Alright, rain, soot, which of you is the trans tom?

Bit of an awkward transition to the next day there, but alright

Two moons since the last rain

Chapter 11

Aw, cinderpelt

Fireheart cant stay mad at his baby sister forever

Sandfire advenetures!

Cloudpaw no!

Chapter 12

Okay, bad wording fireheart, but sandstorm turned way too quickly

Oh, poor ash

Chapter 13

Aw, ashfur, babie boy. Im gonna hate you next arc

Ok good, bluestar still has some wisdom in hef

Fireheart please take cinderpelt's advice, let spottedleaf go

Chapter 14

Brackenfur's not stupid, he can see u like her, fireheart

Aw, whitestorm's so concerned for his aunt

Im just picturing bluestar lying on her side, sadly licking dew from individual leaves

Chapter 15

Willowpelt not being forced into mother or warrior solely, for the win!

Oh no, runningwind!

Ah shit, there goes whitethroat

Tigerclaw u fucker

Chapter 16

GET HIS ASS FIREHEART

Skinny tigerclaw is a cursed image

Whitestorm to the rescue!

And greystripe!!

Chapter 17

I love how considerate fireheart is

Uh oh, bluestar, please stay calm

I think the writers got confused on mourning rituals, isnt it those closest to the dead that sit vigil?

Still, poor runningwind

Thornpaw, buddy! You've been given absolutely no characterization so far, poor guy, the neglected littermate

Yellowfang's reminded of Brokenstar, isnt she

Chapter 18

Aw, brackenfur playing with the kits

What ever happened to the "dont eat on hunting patrols" thing he was critizing cloudpaw about earlier?

Ravenpaw!!! My buddy!!!

Oh lord, exposition

Cloudpaw's been missing for a quarter moon

Chapter 19

Goddamn why is sandstorm so quick to fight with him

I see where shes coming from, dont leave the clan unguarded to go pick up your nephew from a twoleg nest, but have like, a reasonable discussion at least

...au where brightpaw comes across tigerclaw during the journey back to camp and gets kidnapped or killed

He has his own territory!! Good for you, dude!

Chapter 20

Thunderclan tree scaling skills coming in handy again

Why is sandstorm so harsh against ravenpaw???

Im glad ravenpaw has confidence, and a lot of it, given he just willingly alerted dogs to himself

Chapter 21

Cloudpaw better be on a redemption arc now, i really want to like him

Deadfoot nooo

Haha webpaw said fuck that

Aw, ashpaw, cutie

Hell yeah, more elders liking cloudpaw content

Chapter 22

Bluestar's memory is fading isnt it

Ok good cloudpaw's improving

I love these nightmares and omens, shame ive never seen fanart for them

Chapter 23

Ah, the fire, time for heartbreak

Ough, the image of patchpelt trying to drag halftail to saftey

I know yellowfang dies this book but shes gotta be alive! Shes just gotta!

Au where yellowfang survives and teaches leafpool

Chapter 24

Nooo, patchpelt!

Au where bluestar dies instead of yellowfang

Huh, they remembered mistlekit's existence, but not the fact she should definitely be an apprentice by now

Chapter 25

Ah good, leopardfur's softening a bit

Aw, smallear wanting to bury patchpelt

I'd be neat if one of the willowkits got asthma from this, but i know they dont

Chapter 26

Darkstripe you dick

Yess dustpelt becoming likeable

Bluestar's getting worse, isnt she

Storm and Feather! Babies!

Chapter 27

I like crookedstar

God, it really is destroyed, huh

Poor halftail

This is horrific, one of the worse deaths, if shes still conscious when fireheart finds her, she was probably conscious all night

"I wish you had been my son, but i could not have borne a cat like you" god.

Oh god, the image of fireheart desperately talking over her, knowing shes gone, ough

Chapter 28

I cant even blame bluestar here, i'd break from this too

Rip yellowblue shippers (fangfur? Bluefang?)

Three quarter moon

Chapter 29

I think cloudpaw has gotten "my boy!" status

Whitestorm's such a good warrior, man, i love him

Darkstripe's a dick part ???

Chapter 30

Gorsepaw!!!

Tallstar!!!

See, this is why i love firestar, he didnt have to tell runningnose personally, he could've just announced it

Ohoho, hello tigerclaw, you evil fucker

My thoughts

9.5/10, technically a lot happened but it also felt like nothing happened, so half a point off. I liked it though, the writing is holding up so far, everyone's mostly in character- aside from sandstorm's flip-flopping- and the fire scenes were brutal. Not necessarily my favourite so far, but high up

[lunarifie]

Rewatching Ninjago

(With no context other than the episode)

The Tournament of Elements episode 3-4

WHAT IS GOING ON

oh Zane’s having a nightmare.

Why a dragon though, you had one as a pet for like a whole season.

Nya, Wu is NOT the one to go for love advice.

Nya: its just, coles like, i connect with him on a deeper level.

Do you?

Nya: but hes always so serious all the time

No hes not

This was literally his goofiest season

I forgot Misako and Garmadon are still married.

Theyre like, husband and wife.

Thats so weird for some reason

Garmadon: theres a lesson to learn from this son.

Garmadon: If you turn your back on your evil sensei. You will not be served creamy biscuits.

Istg sometimes Wu and Garmadon just say shit and see if the ninja will interpret it in a useful way like an english teacher asking you what the poem means to you

Jay: And i thought ninja didnt steal other ninjas girlfriends!!

WHEN WAS SHE YOUR GIRLFRIEND???????

I love Chens character as a villain. All of this is merely for his entertainment and this whole tournament of manipulation is for his own gain. i love villains who are more manipulative than straight up evil. Thats probably why the overlord didnt stick with me that much.

THE HISTORICAL JAY AND COLE FIGHT

i still remember this from my childhood

Jay: One of us has to lose!!! Oh my god its totally gonna be me. Hes got super strength! And what do I have??!?! QUICK, TELL ME WHAT DO I HAVE?!?!

Insecurities coming in hot there Jay you okay?

Yes it sucks that theyre fighting punching bags with each others faces.

but that doesn’t change the fact that they both have a single headshot photo of one another��

Its startiiiing

Jesus christ theyre immediately at it didnt even let Chen finish speaking 💀

Nickname 1: Blue-belle

Yes that nickname was said as an insult

Apparently.

Not one of Coles best…

Zane escaped!

WAIT WHY IS PIXAL SCRAPPED?!?!?

How did that happen

If they never explain how then im headcannoning that instead of Zane putting himself back together. It was Pixal but she couldnt find the right nindroid parts, so she used herself, kinda like a lung transplant or something, in simple words. Especially since she had half his heart.

God these robots have gone through so much

“I was more upset about losing you!”

Ah yes the famed line

Jay and Cole made up so quickly😭

Why didn’t yall resolve this literally a few minutes ago all you had to say was a few words

AND NOW THEYRE FIGHTING TOGETHER

“I got your back!”

“And I’ve got yours.”

Theyre the bestest of friends i love their dynamic sm

Okay but you can tell that beforehand, they were yelling heated words at one another but they never tried to physically harm the other.

Theres so many moves theyre using rn that they didnt even try before

Thought process was probably like ‘okay so i can do this— wait that would actually hurt him.’

Lloyd using garmadons advice!!!!!

“Good work son :)”

When he becomes evil again im gonna be so heartbroken

Jay (now that one of them is being forced to take the jade blade): It should be you! We both know im lucky to even have gotten this far

Jay your really worrying me with your self deprecation at this point

The way Cole knew he would lose his power if he lost. That he doesn’t even really know where he’ll end up other than some sort of factory. But still sacrificed himself.

Got me feeling all emotional

God i could FEEL the euphoria of Kai learning him and skyler weren’t related, that was pure relief right there

Okay but that was some skilled manipulation.

Chen taking away something precious and then blaming it on Cole and Jay being uncooperative so everyone turns on them. Thats like manipulation 101

Smart tho

Kinda sucks that even Kai fell for it 🫠

Cole: you can take my clothes, my power! But you will never take my super strength!!!

Cole (tries to bust open the cell but fails): okay you got that too.

How is that even possible tho

Last I remember Coles super strength wasn’t connected to his elemental power

He picked up trees and shit when Lloyd was the golden ninja.

Cole getting all giddy and picking up a fortune cookie: you know theres a fortune in these right :D

Hes so stupid i love him.

Jay knowing how to roller-skate is so him.

Jay: did i ever tell you i got first place in the mother-son skate off!

Invisible guy: weirdo.

Dont need to be so rude about it damn.

Kai immediately fell on his ass in front of skyler its not looking too great for him

Jay doing flips/tricks in skates in the background, just having the time of his life is something so nice to see

Ninjagos actually pretty good with disabled representation.

Cyrus borgs character is just a good character in general, i like him a lot.

And the master of sound being blind. Yes, when he loses his elemental power he has trouble figuring out where people and things are but later hes shown as very skilled with hearing and stealth just from prior knowledge. Hes almost able to escape. before being fed to the serpentine that is.

OH. CAMILLE. LIKE CHAMELEON. BC SHE CAN SHAPE-SHIFT AND CHANGE FORM-

Chen is so entertaining as a character

Jay: its us against the world Kai!

That is smth so personal out of context

Skyler What the hell!!! Ik ur related to chen somehow but to pit Kai against his little brother?!?!?!

Also why is Kai so easy to manipulate

Youre not even here to win??? especially not against Lloyd. Your here for Zane.

Its so weird that only Kai doesnt know how to skate.

Skating isnt that common of a skill why do all these people know how to rollerblade AND shove people while doing it. Do you know how hard that actually is?

Nya (talking to herself): uhhhh nothing unusual to see here… just aaaa technological advanced mobile base camouflaged as a noodle truck 😀

Shes so funny i love her

Clouse: you were once comfortable with lying… it worked on Misako, didnt it?

now thats a low blow. How does he even know about the love letter.

Jay and Lloyd are so cool as a duo in this

Lloyd: you didnt learn that in your mother-son skate off, did you?

Jay: It was a fierce competition Lloyd 😤

Now i cant stop imaging Jay and edna shoving all these mothers and sons on skates while ed cheers in the back

Jays family makes me so soft

KAI DOING THE LITTLE MARCHES 😭😭😭

I remember doing that when I was learning

WAIT THAT WAS ACTUALLY IMPRESSIVE GO KAI

Jay is such a little bastard 💀

Jay dodging Camille as he holds her jade blade: i got it! You want it! I got it! You want it! Come and get it! Come and get it!!

FINALLY they're all on the ninjas side

Wait wait wait how was Lloyd able to turn the buggy into his own vehicle aren't only the techno blades able to do that?

Garmadon everytime Clouse tries to do dark magic: time to tackle this guy.

Why is he so dramatic just punch the pretentious fuck

Skyler: if all of us quit, what tournament would you have?

I feel like this was a moment where skyler stood up to Chen in a way.

Idk just makes me look at it in a different lense now that Ik they're related.

Cole: Zane!!! Your alive! You look- silver?

Zane: titanium. Cole you look, white!

Cole: (bursts out laughing)

the black cole head cannon is so funny in this moment

Cole sounds so happy to see Zane again 🥹

The voice actors are too good.

Guard: wheres Cole.

Cole: right here big guy! Whats wrong? Looks like youve seen a ghost.

They

Did

Not.

[please-help-this-little-lesbian]

JUDITH NO

Wait what happened to Daryl?

RIP Jules

HOLY FUCK LUKE TOO?

YESS CONNIE SLAY

THE HARMONICA 😭😭

Y’all I’m actually crying right now

Angel is acting her ASS OFF this episode

The Merle mention 👁👄👁

Mercer rn that’s the safest place to be

YESS PRINCESS

No she lost her fucking arm

Eww

OH MY GOD

OH MY FUCKING GOD

ALL THOSE POOR KIDS JESUS

How old is Coco?? Like 1?

Oh thank god she’s alive

O FUCK THIS SOEECH JUDITH YOURE GONNA LIVE DAMMIT

NO SHE PASSED OUT AGAIN

I LOVE WHEN THEY SWEAR

Bro who just died?

Season 1 throwback 🤩

It’s giving Fear season 1 and I love it

NO. NO. NO. No no. No no.

Wait what other random kid does Gabe have???

NO NO NO NO NO NO NONO NO

YESS

THATS MY WIFE EVERYBODY

What y’all gonna do fly in?

PLEASE AARON GIVING HER ADVICE I CANT 😭😭😭

Where is Elijah??🤨

Cassady’s acting rn I—🤌

Maggie asking about Negan?????

“Pop off—“ NO. GOD PLEASE NOT ANOTHER MODERN REFERENCE PLEASE GOD

“I am doing this for you.” I do not like the vibes of this

Yo it’s been a fucking day???

I’m glad Negan’s attoned kind of but it’s giving enemies to lovers

I swear they’re replaying the same clip of Coco

NO

NONONONONOFUCK NO

I FUCKING HATE YOU AMC

*Violently realizes Eugene and I have the same bangs*

Please God Judith. Please give me some good news.

“Big Asskicker” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Yes Mercer stand against Facism

Maggie make the fucking shot

“Arrest them” girl you’ve got bigger problems

Gabe slays as always

Not DARYL being the one to bring in the power of friendship

EVERY SINGLE FBOMB GIVES ME SEROTONIN

“We ain’t the walking dead” AGFSGHDFKCSHHDXJGSHJFFHGDFHN

Just let Maggie shoot her

ELIJAH

JERRY

Pam what are you

Oh it’s Lance

JUDITH??

WHERE THE FUCK DID SHE COME FROM??

They always have the best music

Lydia put everything into that kick

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO COOL

SLAY CAROL

Negan why were you looking at the whisperer mask

Good for her.

Girlie we’ve already said this

But regardless, tell him!!!

They are actually handling this really well!!

This is exactly what Maggie said to Enid in Just Survive

NO THE DINNER SCENE

LIKE IN THE DREAM IN 7x01

FUCK

AND TGEYRE PLAYING LANDSLIDE😭😭😭

Are Yumiko and Magna together again?

DOG

Is Negan finally gonna fucking leave

Well, answered that question

At least Rosita will die peacefully…

Noo I think Jude knows

I’m never gonna forgive AMC for this

THEY HAD A BABY?????

GOVERNOR EZEKIEL 😭😭😭😭

BLACK LEADERSHIP WE LOVE TO SEE IT

JUST KISS ALREADY

Does Lydia have a fake arm or…

AFDDNSFJFDHDFHC THE COMPAS

THE FUCKING COMPAS

HEY REMEMBER WHEN WE ALL SAID THE WRITERS WOULD REMEMBER JUDITH AND NEGANS BOND AT THE LAST MINUTE??? REFUCKINGMEMBER???

AUNT MAGGIE AGDXHFFF

So that’s how she goes off with Negan…

Did Carol cut her hair??

So that’s his goal…

RICK

MICHONNE

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

IM SOBBING

Why is Michonne dressed like she’s still In Wakanda?

Oh so Rick and her ain’t together

Huh????

Okay I’m gonna be fr, I ain’t got no idea what’s going on rn

[hepbaestus]

Thoughts on Robots (2005)

I've got an essay to write and read papers for, so why not watch a film that I loved as a kid? Join me in my thoughts on Robots (2005)

This one's a long one so strap in.

I only learnt fairly recently that it's fucking Ewan McFuckingGregor voicing the protagonist in this film.

I watched this film so much as a kid and I didn't realise? How the fuck did I get into university?

RIP blue sky

Even the pigeons are robots

He's so happy about being a dad

The doors the shape of a lightbulb

The saxophone at "making a babies the fun part" how saucy

"I don't need to see the directions" every person ever with IKEA manuals

Rodney Copperbottom. What a name.

"this won't hurt a bit son" oh my fucking god

Hand-me-downs from cousin Jeffrey? What happened to him?

That poor drum

Oh god Bigweld's voice brings back memories and TIM. TINY TIM

The door's kinda creepy

That lil robot with the plate is me

This is where shit hits the fan I think, I don't remember

Fucking hell that really is Ewan McGregor

The small kid in a big city feeling, that's me whenever I'm in London

IS THAT FUCKING ROBIN WILLIAMS as Pinwheel Fender??? (Just looked it up and it is oml)

Pinwheel needs his money

Fucking tinman from wizard of Oz?

The garbled talking down a microphone ugh

My travel sick body would not be able to handle any of the trip to Bigweld Industry

It's always the small seemingly sweet ones that are so mean

Oh god it's him. It's Ratchet - I remember having a crush on him (this really foreshadowed my future fictional crushes - almost all of them being either the villain or just arrogant in a hot way)

Nice, eye of the Tiger playing

Oh no

Oopie. Falling through a window

The magnetisation of Rodney is dragging everything with him

So many layers to the city

Ooooo Underground by Tom Waits 1983, this song brings back memories. I do prefer the movie's cover (as expected)

The break time being literal seconds

Of course Ratchet's mom is a fucking spider

He's just doing what his mother wants him to do (she's emotionally manipulating him with what threats of doing the same to him as she did to his father)

This films fucking dark for 6 year olds, Jesus

Fiting over a foot with elegant music in the background, hilarious

Spanish football voice box, I remember this making me laugh so much

"I can't never find parts of my size" same dude

It's her (Piper - another character I had a crush on as a kid)

How did I not realise how gay I was as a kid? Like having a crush on the literal villain AND the cute sister of Fender

Piper's such a dork I love her

The good news is that he's been outmoded? Oof

THERES A FUCKING STAR WARS REFERENCE IN THIS FILM

That's one thicc ass

THATS NOT THE MEAN STEPMOTHER FROM A CINDERELLA STORY IS IT (just looked it up, that's Jennifer fucking Coolidge, the stepmom from another film that I loved as a kid)

So many iconic people in this film

Poor lamppost, the white tape where he'd died

"Only those with insurance..." No here has insurance buddy, if they did they could probably afford to buy parts

Such a people pleaser (same)

A literal operation as a reference to the game operation, this film is brilliant

A toilet saying you're number one. Don't know how to feel about that

Ratchet's mum is such a narcissist

Why does Rodney look kinda good in that outfit??

Au reservoir??? The incorrect French hurts

Singing in the rain reference?? Nice

The sweeper!! No!!!

"BAD BOT BUSTS BALL"???? they knew exactly what they were doing with that wording

The mini guillotine

The amount of dominoes on the floor must have taken ages

Mans is just surfing the domino waves

Good piece of advice? Give up.. solid advice right there

Sad talk time let's goo

The subtle bagpipes when Robin Williams is speaking with a Scottish accent

Revolution time babyyy

Robots ran so Avengers Endgame could walk

Wonderbot is so strong for such a tiny thing

"Herb Special edition" my heart

This gives me Tony Stark and Peter Parker vibes (in the fact that in fics, Peter is almost always the successor to Stark Industries)

An impromptu drag show with Fender nice

Overall score: 6/10 good film, very nostalgic

Film recommendations welcome!

[vcutparis]

good lord. rubs chest in consolation. good lord.

SO MANY FEELINGS SO MANY THOUGHTS. NO PERFECT STRUCTURE THEY'RE JUST INCOHERENT BABBLES. I WANT TO SPEAK OR I'LL COMBUST IN THIN AIR LIKE CONFETTI

i have no complaints with ending it's all part of the grand scheme BUT how i wish like joong, how i WISH he wouldve GOTTEN THOSE HUGS AND KISSES FOREVER. (there's always an evil eye in everyone's relationship AND BRO HOW I WISH TO GAUGE THAT EYE RIGHT NOW. (drops to knees and howls in pain) mingi...boy im sorry captain ate you up, why was he literally outside his bedroom GSHJNFNJKFM????? SIR GTFO

smh this was mingi, but from the description of his part i believe boy is going through his own grief and turmoil. so excused. MY JJONG BOY!!!! LITERALLY THE ANCHOR IN EVERY SCENE!!!!! BIG HUGS FOR MY GUY. best part? hongjoong's injury marks being scratches of desperation. idk i just like the thought behind it? it's certainly unique and a scar to actually hide(?) injuries full of desperation to live, the same ones his mother clawed the same arms for. absolutely loved how you described the change in each character's gazes. your utmoust detail to eyes warms me because UGHGFHF im a sucker for eyes. i LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. hwa giving the best advices to cap joong, oh i love my matz dynamic. never separate my matz when it's angst. genuinely ngl i was expecting much more cruel ending but thank YOU. TRINKETS FOR LOVED ONES???? BABY THAT'S THE BEST THING YOU CAN GIVE TO SOMEONE. my eyelashes were heavy with the tears. you explored joong's emotions well, enough to be atleast be justified in a reader's head. my heart really really melted when he couldnt even say sorry to her passed out self and proceeded to clean her tote bag....like that's the core essence of my joong 😭thats my joong 😭😭😭😭😭 oh god every moment felt so genuine i wanted to rip out my heart and give it to them. LIKE damn just take another heart and love each other more. this wasnt the normal case of stockholm syndrome and OH LORD OH LORD WHEN he begged and was in disbelief.....i

"anything you want. it's yours." jesus christ. i hyperventilated eyes rolled back almost ascended to heaven. IS THIS A MAFIA LEADER? OFFERING HIS PRESSED MARIGOLD FLOWER BOOKMARK? GRRRRRRRR THIS GRADUAL REDEMPTION ARC clawing my walls as i frantically heave, my snot and tears mixed running down my chin. all of thi probably wont make sense BUT I HAVE!!!! TO TALK!!!! looking for any glimpse us in the halls, like SIR THAT'S A CRUSH UR FEELING CMON my softie captain feeding chicken soup! changing our bandages! mama....i almost dressed up as a wedding pastor and wished to be teleported to that exact scene (too extreme nvm) im intrigued by the said man cheering on my beloved like that BUT mhm lets begin the game! THE LAST DINNER TOGETHER AND THE WALK AT NIGHT OH DUDE....I WILL ALWAYS EAT UP A QUIET WALK IN NATURE IN FANFICS LIKE FUCK CANDLELIGHT DINNERS, LET ME MERGE SOULS WITH MY BELOVED AMONGST NATURE AND MOON AS OUR SOLE WITNESS. The roughness of his palm contrasted sharply with the fragility of the charm as you placed it gently into his hand. His fingers curled around it instinctively, the same hand that once had only known destruction now cradling something so delicate with utmost care.

"good treat it with care" "you made it all right, joong."

i wish i could let this fic marinate in my head for a while but if i did i would burst out crying. GIVE ME MY BOY EVERYTHING!!!! FUCK WHOEVER THAT MAN IS DOING (he's doing something right maybe? but ZONT. ZONT PLEASE.)

01. The Captain — By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

Pairing: gang leader!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Word Count: 18.1k

Summary: The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, scars, mentions of murder and SA, language, contains dark themes in general

SERIES MASTERLIST | ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The dim glow of lantern light flickered across the room as the gang leader held the letter between his fingers, turning it over with a scrutinising gaze. His brow arched slightly, the ivory wax seal bearing the unmistakable insignia of the White Serpents—a gang notorious for their cunning and deception, their pristine image masking venomous intent. Silent but deadly, serpents poised to strike. And Hongjoong knew them well.

"Well?" His voice was calm, almost amused, as he studied the coded message in his hand.

Yunho exhaled sharply with a shake of his head, frustration etched across his face. "She's stubborn. Won't admit to a thing. Twenty-four hours, and still nothing."

The Captain's smirk widened, dark amusement playing in his eyes. "Really? Even with this treacherous letter in her possession?" He tapped the envelope lightly. "Twenty-four hours… that's impressive. No dog has ever lasted that long." His tone was laced with mock intrigue. "Perhaps she's an especially loyal one. How interesting."

He leaned back, nodding toward the heavy iron doors leading to the basement, his voice low and confident. "A tough one to crack, no doubt. But they all crack… eventually." The distant echo of chains rattling and the creak of the doors opening sent a chill through the air. The game had only just begun.

Let's see just how long you can last.

The room was dim, suffocating in its silence, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of damp stone. Your breath hitched as consciousness clawed its way back, and the cold, unforgiving chill bit at your drenched skin. You blinked through the sting of icy water clinging to your lashes, your trembling gaze rising to meet the source of the voice that shattered the oppressive stillness.

"Congratulations, miss!" The sudden, mocking boom made you flinch, fear coiling tighter around your chest. "You're the first to last a full day in these chambers. How very impressive!"

The man before you was smaller than the one who had been 'questioning' you earlier—a tall, lanky figure whose blows you could still feel—but this one's presence was far more terrifying. Cold authority radiated from him, his smile a twisted mockery of warmth. He stepped closer, his sharp eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "I trust my boys have treated you well."

A shiver tore through you, body wracked with uncontrollable tremors—whether from the bitter cold or the malice in his voice, you couldn't tell. His grin widened, and the false politeness only made it worse. "Fear not, my lady," he purred, his tone soft and deadly. "I'll treat you even better… until you decide to be honest, of course."

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach, despair crashing over you. You tried to shake your head, but your body was too weak and cold to offer feeble resistance. And yet, you knew—this was only the beginning.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wished for the thousandth—no, the millionth—time that this was all a nightmare. The cold seeped into your bones, but it wasn't just the chill that made you tremble. It was the gnawing fear, the hopelessness that clung to you like a second skin.

How did it come to this?

You replayed the events over and over in your mind, searching for an answer, but all you found was confusion. Just a day or two ago, you had been weaving through the bustling port, arms laden with imported goods for your employer. The crowded streets were alive with noise—merchants shouting, sailors hauling cargo, smugglers slipping through the shadows. You had only wanted to return to work, unaware that fate had already marked you.

Then it happened. A sharp turn into an alley. The sudden grip of rough hands. Black-clothed men cornering you like wolves circling their prey, eyes sharp and merciless. Their accusations—espionage, treachery—made no sense. You tried to explain, voice trembling, but they didn't listen. Not until they tore through your belongings and fished out a letter—one you had never seen before.

The blow came swiftly, a fist to your face, and the world went dark.

Now, here you were. Broken. Bleeding. Trapped in a nightmare you couldn't escape.

"P-please… I d-don't know who the Wh-white Serpents are," you stammered, forcing your swollen eye open to meet the man who seemed to command the room, his presence suffocating. "I s-swear…"

Hongjoong's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his irritation barely concealed behind a mask of feigned calm. "You know," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous softness, "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that again." He exhaled in a mock sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Now you've left me no choice."

With deliberate steps, he moved toward the glowing embers at the far side of the room. The fire crackled, and your breath hitched when he wrapped his hand around a hot branding iron, its tip glowing ominously.

No, please...

Panic surged through you, and tears spilt uncontrollably down your cheeks. You didn't even have the strength to sob anymore. You could only watch in frozen terror as he turned back, the iron in his grasp radiating heat and menace.

"Come on," he cooed, voice deceptively gentle. "I'd really hate to ruin such pretty skin. All you have to do is be a good girl—tell me what this blasted letter says. Tell me the name of your boss." His grin was sharp, dangerous, but beneath it, you sensed his patience was threadbare.

The White Serpents. The name alone ignited his fury. Their faces were always hidden, their identities a mystery. Even their leader remained a ghost, a phantom in white. And that infuriated him more than anything—an enemy he couldn't see, couldn't predict.

And now, you were his only lead.

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his frustration. The dim light flickered over the cold stone walls, shadows dancing like spectres of every soul that had suffered here before you. His grip on the branding iron tightened, the metal searing hot in his hand, glowing with menace. He didn't want to take this step—truly, he didn't. But the memory of how they found you replayed in his mind, solidifying his certainty.

You were guilty. You had to be.

He clenched his jaw, recalling the chaos at the port. The Black Pirates were in the midst of a crucial covert operation, tensions strung taut like a wire. They had been waiting for the White Serpents to make a move, for the elusive spy to slip through their defences. The streets were crowded, the perfect cover for deception.

Then there was you.

A simple girl, or so it seemed, navigating the busy market with unsuspecting ease. Unbeknownst to you, the real spy—the one they had been hunting—moved silently through the crowd. In a calculated move, the informant slipped the coded letter into your bag and vanished into the sea of bodies before anyone could catch him.

Hongjoong's men, sharp-eyed and vigilant, saw the handoff. They reacted swiftly, believing they had caught the elusive spy. You were cornered in the alley, fear etched across your face as you begged for understanding, your confusion only cementing their suspicions. The letter was damning enough. Evidence was evidence, and the Captain trusted his crew's intelligence.

But now, staring at you—broken, trembling, tears staining your bruised cheeks—he felt the edges of his certainty fraying. You persisted in your pleas, clinging to innocence with a desperation that should have crumbled by now. And yet… you hadn't.

"Last chance, woman," he said coldly, his voice like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. The heat from the iron radiated, the threat palpable. "There will be no going back from here. I'm sure you know that."

He meant the words as a warning for you, a final offer before he left mercy behind. But deep down, perhaps they were a warning for himself, too—a foreshadowing he didn't yet grasp.

You shook your head weakly, trembling from exhaustion and terror. Still no confession. Still the same maddening persistence.

Hongjoong raised the branding iron, holding it close to your battered face. His eyes burned with something dangerous, something teetering between anger and frustration.

"Well then," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, the finality in his tone sealing your fate—or so he thought.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The air in the torture chamber hung heavy with the acrid stench of scorched flesh, mingling with the damp chill of the stone walls. His cold, calculating gaze never wavered as he watched you, unconscious and crumpled on the floor, your body trembling even in unconsciousness. The mark of the Black Pirates seared into your back, raw and angry, a testament to the brutality you'd endured.

"That'll scar for life," one of his men muttered, a mix of awe and amusement in his voice.

Hongjoong let out a low, humourless chuckle, his eyes dark with unrelenting resolve. "For life?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "How optimistic. I doubt she'll live long enough to see the next sunrise if she continues to be this stubborn."

His voice was void of emotion, laced with a chilling indifference that sent a shiver through even the most hardened of his men. He didn't enjoy this—not exactly—but he had no patience for weakness. If you wouldn't talk, you were nothing but a liability, and liabilities were dealt with swiftly.

He turned away for a moment, tossing the branding iron back into the fire with a careless flick of his wrist. Embers exploded in every direction, but he paid them no mind. "We've wasted enough time on her," he said, voice cold and final. "If she doesn't confess after this, end it. Finish her."

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire, the finality of his words hanging in the air like a death sentence. One of the guards nodded, his expression stoic. "Of course, boss."

Hongjoong motioned toward the bucket of dirty water beside you, its murky surface rippling with the slightest movement. "Wake her," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy, anticipating the agony that would soon follow.

The guard lifted the bucket with ease, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as he approached. Without hesitation, he tilted it, the filthy water cascading over your battered body. The moment the contaminated water hit your wounds, especially the fresh burn, your body convulsed violently.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and guttural, piercing through the oppressive stillness. It wasn't the kind of scream that came from fear—it was the sound of pure, unfiltered agony.

The Captain didn't flinch. He stood tall, arms crossed, watching with a detached curiosity as you writhed on the floor. "That's better," he muttered, almost to himself. "Now, let's see if you're ready to talk."

He crouched down beside you, his face an unreadable mask. "Final chance," he said softly, almost tenderly, as if mocking your suffering. "Who sent you?" His voice dipped lower, dangerously calm. "Or would you prefer to die in this filth, unloved and forgotten?"

The only response was the ragged sound of your breath, broken sobs wracking your body. His patience was wearing thin, and though he was a man known for his control, he was ready to end this.

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, each gasp searing through your lungs like fire. The icy water clung to your battered body, every drop seeping into your open wounds, amplifying the unbearable pain. Your vision blurred, the dim room spinning into shadows and smoke, but you clung to the fragments of your thoughts, the last remnants of who you were.

This is it, you thought, the realisation settling over you with a strange, hollow calm. This is how it ends.

You didn't know why these monsters had dragged you into their nightmare, why they believed you were a spy. You didn't understand the cruel fate that had brought you here, only that it had. And now, there was no escape. The man before you, with his cold eyes and cruel smirk, had made that clear.

Your body trembled violently, not from the cold but from the acceptance creeping into your heart. Death will be a mercy, you thought. Better this than more agony.

Closing your eyes, you let the numbness wash over you, a strange kind of peace taking root beneath the layers of fear. You thought of your friends—the laughter shared over simple joys. You thought of your family, their faces blurred by memory but still holding warmth. And you thought of your employer, the one person who had seen worth in you when the world turned away. You prayed they would not grieve too long. You prayed they would find solace.

I'll watch over them, you promised silently. From wherever I'm going.

The wet, acrid air filled your lungs, heavy and suffocating. Every second stretched into eternity, and you waited for the final blow, the one that would release you. Your heartbeat slowed, the frantic rhythm giving way to a dull, distant echo.

And then, the room grew deathly quiet.

Hongjoong remained crouched, studying you, his iron grip on control unwavering. He didn't speak immediately, and that was almost worse. The silence pressed down, a suffocating weight, as if the world was holding its breath.

"Still nothing?" His voice was soft now, eerily gentle, like a predator savouring the last moments before the kill.

You didn't respond. Couldn't. There was nothing left to say. You were ready for the end.

And then, with a slow exhale, you heard him murmur almost to himself, "What a shame."

The gang leader let out a long, slow breath, his head shaking slightly, a humourless smile curving his lips. His eyes lingered on your broken form, slumped over, trembling and soaked, but utterly still, as if you had already crossed into death's grasp. Your eyes fluttered shut, the last spark of defiance extinguished. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, dusting off his coat with deliberate care, and with a curt nod, gestured toward his men.

"Finish it."

The words were cold and final, slicing through the room like a blade. One of the guards stepped forward, the metallic click of his gun cocking echoing in the dim space, followed by the low scrape of his boot on the wet floor. Hongjoong turned his back on you, jaw tight, waiting for the shot to ring out, waiting for the moment to pass so he could move on from this wasted effort.

But then— footsteps. Quick and urgent, echoing down the stone stairway.

"Wait."

The voice was calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a sudden gust of wind. The room froze, the guard's finger hovering over the trigger as all eyes turned toward the stairs. Yeosang emerged from the shadows, his usual cool composure replaced by something unsettled. His sharp gaze darted toward your barely conscious form before locking onto his captain, his face unreadable, but his unease unmistakable.

Hongjoong's brow lifted in mild curiosity, though his patience was wearing thin. "What is it, Yeo?" he asked, voice clipped as the Phantom strode forward, his expression grave.

Yeosang leaned in close, his voice low but firm as he murmured something into the gang leader's ear, too quiet for the others to hear. Whatever he said, it landed like a blow. Hongjoong's entire posture shifted. His jaw clenched, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides as he processed the whispered words.

The room held its collective breath.

After what felt like an eternity, the Captain straightened, his eyes dark with a new kind of frustration, though there was no mistaking the glimmer of something else—regret? Anger? It was impossible to tell.

His voice, when it came, was sharp and decisive. "Release her."

The room erupted in a flurry of confusion, but no one dared question him. The guard with the gun hesitated for only a second before lowering it, stepping back. Another moved to untie the chains binding your wrists, the cold iron clattering to the floor as your limp body crumpled forward.

Hongjoong's gaze never wavered, his face carved from stone as he watched you collapse. His men obeyed without question, though their confusion was palpable, the tension still thick in the air.

As you slumped to the ground, barely conscious, he let out another breath, slow and controlled, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Take her to the infirmary," he commanded, voice icy but steady. "And keep her alive."

His men exchanged uncertain glances but quickly moved to obey, lifting your frail body with care as they carried you out. He remained rooted, his eyes lingering on the bloodstained floor, his fists clenched once more as Yeosang watched him silently.

"I hope for your sake," Hongjoong muttered under his breath, "this wasn't a mistake."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The heavy oak door to his office slammed shut behind him, the echo reverberating through the grand but cold space. Hongjoong paced across the dimly lit room, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls, but offering no warmth. His hand shook slightly as he poured another shot of whiskey, the amber liquid splashing over the rim. He didn't care. He downed it in one swift motion, the burn doing little to drown the bile rising in his throat.

Wrong person.

His brother's words replayed in his mind like a curse, each syllable a dagger to his pride.

"Hyung, we got the wrong person. She's not the spy—the real one escaped. This woman was just... there. A scapegoat."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The whiskey glass slammed down on the desk, the sharp crack of glass against wood making his men just outside the door flinch. But none dared to enter. They knew better.

His fists balled at his sides, trembling with suppressed rage—at Yeosang, at his crew, at himself. The sight of your bloodied form flashed in his mind, the raw agony in your voice as he pressed the searing iron into your skin. He could still hear the echoes of your pleas, the desperate, broken words you had whispered over and over: I'm not who you think I am... please...

He should have known.

How could he have missed it? The way you had looked at him, not with defiance or guilt but with pure, unfiltered fear and confusion. He was Kim Hongjoong, the Captain of the Black fuckin' Pirates—his instincts had never failed him before. Yet this time, he had been blinded by rage, by the need for control, and it had led him to commit an unforgivable mistake.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk, the polished surface groaning under the strain. No amount of wealth or power in this city could erase the image of your battered, broken body lying on the cold floor. The branded mark he had burned into your back would scar, not just on your skin but in his mind, forever.

The Black Pirates were ruthless, yes, but not reckless. Innocents were not meant to be collateral unless there was no other choice. This... this was different. It was unacceptable.

He let out a low, bitter laugh, hollow and laced with self-loathing. "How could this happen?" he muttered to no one, his voice cracking. "I'm the one who doesn't make mistakes."

But this was a mistake. A fatal one, if Yeosang hadn't intervened.

The storm inside him raged on, unrelenting. No amount of whiskey could drown it, no fire could warm the cold knot in his chest. For the first time in years, Kim Hongjoong felt something foreign and unwelcome searing through him.

Regret.

He sank into the leather chair behind his desk, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His hands covered his face, shaking as if he could scrub away the guilt, the shame. But it was branded on him now, just as deeply as the mark he had scorched into your skin.

After what felt like hours, he remained in his office, standing by the window, the golden light of the waning sun casting a sharp contrast against the deep shadows in the room. His gaze pierced through the glass, locking onto the tall, black gates of their mansion—gates that symbolised power, control, and security. Yet today, they felt like bars of a prison. He imagined how those gates must have looked to you, cold and foreboding, as you were dragged inside, far from the life you knew, thrust into a nightmare you hadn't earned.

He clenched his jaw, fists curling at his sides as the weight of his guilt continued to press down on him. One mistake. One mistake. That's all it had taken to bring you here. A mistake from his men, from him, and it had led to your torture. His throat tightened as those cruel memories clawed at him: your ragged pleas, your broken body, and worst of all, his voice—cold, detached, ruthless—demanding answers you didn't have.

Remorse surged through him, an agonising tide that refused to ebb. His own words echoed in his mind, venomous and unforgiving: "Be a good girl and tell us what this blasted letter says." His stomach twisted, the taste of bile bitter on his tongue.

He turned away from the window, squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if the pain could drown out the memories. But it only intensified the haunting vision that consumed him: his mother's lifeless eyes, staring into nothingness, wide with fear and betrayal. She had died for nothing—used, discarded, and left to rot by men who saw her as collateral damage. All for debts that weren't hers to pay.

He had been just a boy—useless and powerless—as he watched her lifeblood seep into the dirt, all because of his degenerate father, who had left them behind with nothing but mountains of debt. The loan sharks had spared him, a mistake they didn't live to regret. Hongjoong had spent years rising from the ashes of that helpless child, becoming the monster who hunted monsters, the leader who swore to tear down anyone who preyed on the innocent.

Yet now, here he was, no different from the men who had taken his mother from him.

He slammed a fist onto the desk, the sharp crack splitting the heavy silence. His breathing was ragged, uneven, as his mind spiralled into the past. He had sworn not to harm the innocent.

But he had failed. He had repeated the very sin that had shaped him.

They weren't heroes. The Black Pirates were thieves, smugglers, outlaws. But they lived by one code: never harm those who didn't deserve it. They stole from the corrupt, the greedy, those who exploited the powerless. They were not saviours, but they were not supposed to be butchers either.

And now, because of his blindness, you lay broken and scarred—an innocent woman caught in the crossfire of his rage.

His hands trembled as he dragged them through his hair, staring blankly at the dark wood beneath him. His reflection in the glass across the room looked unfamiliar—haunted, lost, and consumed by a regret that would never fade.

How can I ever make this right?

The oppressive silence in the room was broken by a familiar deep voice, one he always sought when the weight of leadership became too much. "She's stable," Seonghwa said, his tone calm yet sombre.

Hongjoong exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, relief flooding through him like a tide that couldn't quite wash away the guilt. "Stable," he echoed, the word offering little solace.

His brother stepped closer, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound between them. "They've patched her up... but I don't think some of the scars will ever go away." His voice dipped into something quieter, almost apologetic. "Especially not that mark."

The gang leader winced, his fingers tightening into trembling fists. The brand—his brand—seared into her back, a permanent testament to his cruelty. "The mark," he muttered, voice hoarse with regret. "She'll carry it because of me."

Seonghwa leaned against the edge of the desk, folding his arms, watching him with a measured gaze. "Because of us," he corrected, though the words offered no comfort. "But this isn't like you. You don't make mistakes like this."

Hongjoong let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "And yet, I did. I fucked up. She begged, Hwa." His voice cracked, raw and ragged. "She begged, and I didn't listen."

The eldest's face softened, but he didn't look away. "Regret is pointless if it doesn't drive change," he said quietly. "We can't undo what's been done. But maybe... maybe we can still make it right."

Hongjoong looked up, his eyes hollow but desperate. "How?"

Seonghwa met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "By giving her a choice. Her freedom. Protection if she wants it. You can't erase the scars, but you can make sure she's never harmed again."

The Captain's jaw clenched. "And if she wants nothing from us? If she wants nothing to do with the Black Pirates?"

"Then you let her go," Seonghwa replied simply, his voice steady. "With the assurance that she'll never have to fear us again."

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, tension coiling in his shoulders. "I don't deserve forgiveness."

"No," the Gentleman agreed softly, his voice firm but kind. "But it's not about what you deserve. It's about what she does."

The words hung in the air, heavier than any weapon, cutting deeper than any blade.

Hongjoong dragged his hands through his hair, the tremor in them betraying the turmoil within. "Tell them to keep her comfortable," he whispered, voice barely audible. "And... let me know when she wakes up."

Seonghwa inclined his head, moving toward the door but paused before stepping out. "You may never forgive yourself, Joong," he said, his voice softer now, "but that doesn't mean you can't try to do better."

As the door clicked shut behind him, the leader was left alone with the echoes of his guilt—and the faintest, most fragile glimmer of hope.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The quiet hum of the infirmary filled the air, broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the oil lamp on the bedside table. Hongjoong stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes locked on your still form lying on the cot. The sight twisted something deep inside him, the sharp pang of guilt slicing through him once again.

"Hyung?" Jongho's voice pulled him from his reverie, soft but laced with surprise. "Why are you here?" His brows knitted together in confusion as he stepped closer. "Seonghwa hyung said to only inform you when she's awake. She's not—"

The gang leader cut him off with a subtle shake of his head. "I had to see if she's okay... for myself." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "You're dismissed. I'll take over."

Jongho hesitated, his eyes searching his leader's face, filled with concern and something unspoken. "Hyung..."

"I won't..." Hongjoong's voice faltered, his throat tightening. "I won't hurt her any further, Jongho."

The youngest sighed softly, the tension in the room heavy between them. "That's not what I—"

"I know," Hongjoong interrupted, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "It's fine. Just... go thank the doctor for me."

Jongho lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on the Captain's worn expression. Finally, he gave a respectful bow of his head. "I'll be nearby if you need me."

With that, the Anchor left, the door clicking softly shut behind him, leaving Hongjoong alone with the stillness once more.

He stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and sank into the chair beside the bed. His hands trembled as he clasped them together, resting them on his knees. He could barely bring himself to look at you, the bandages wrapped around your body stark against your pale skin, the ghost of the agony he had inflicted still lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words breaking like fragile glass. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

The apology felt hollow, inadequate, but it was all he had. He sat there, staring at you, hoping that somehow, even in sleep, you might hear him. But the only response was the steady rise and fall of your chest, the rhythmic proof that you were alive.

Alive, but not whole.

He leaned back, his head tipping against the wall, the weight of everything crushing down on him. For the first time in years, Kim Hongjoong—the feared Captain of the Black Pirates—felt utterly powerless.

His eyes, unwilling to linger any longer on the bandages covering your wounded body, drifted downward. There, beneath the cot, something caught his attention. A crumpled, dirt-streaked tote bag sat neglected, its once vibrant fabric marred by careless fingerprints—his men's fingerprints.

He furrowed his brows and leaned forward, retrieving the bag with careful hands as if it might break apart at any moment. The stitching was amateur but charming, the drawings simple yet endearing. Scrawled in bright, cheerful lettering at the centre were the words Marigold Gift Shop.

It looked so out of place here in the dim and sterile infirmary, like a splash of sunlight drowning in shadow.

He set the bag on his lap and gently pried it open. The contents were jumbled, chaotic, but it was clear that everything inside once held meaning. Trinkets, small souvenirs from the port—a handful of seashells, a hand-painted keychain, and a delicate glass charm in the shape of a flower. These were not the belongings of a spy.

He reached deeper and pulled out a tiny notebook, its edges worn from use. His fingers brushed over the cover before flipping it open. The pages were filled with neat, dainty handwriting—simple lists:

Small wooden carvings

Candles (lavender & sea breeze)

Handmade bookmarks

Seashell jewellery

It wasn't just a list of purchases—it was a routine, mundane, innocent.

Hongjoong's throat constricted, and his hands trembled as the realisation struck him anew: you had been working. You had been on an errand for your job at the Marigold Gift Shop when they dragged you into their nightmare.

His vision blurred, his breath catching in his chest.

You had no idea who they were. No idea what danger you had stumbled into. You were just there, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it cost you everything.

Hongjoong squeezed the notebook shut, resting it against his forehead as though it could somehow absolve him of the crushing guilt. People must be looking for you—your friends, your family, your employer. The ones who had sent you on this errand, trusting you would return safely.

And now, what could he give them? A broken, scarred version of the vibrant soul they had lost. How could he face them? How could he return you to them like this?

He sat in silence, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional drip of water from the infirmary's ceiling. His gaze lingered on the crumpled tote bag resting on his lap, its cheerful colours muted beneath the grime. His fingers traced the fabric absentmindedly before he noticed the bucket of clean water and a spare rag near your cot.

For reasons he didn't fully understand, he stood and reached for the rag, dipping it into the water. The cloth came away damp and cool, and he squeezed out the excess with slow, deliberate movements. It was a strange sight—Kim Hongjoong, feared leader of the Black Pirates, bent over a bag, carefully wiping away the dirt and grime.

He worked in silence, the world narrowing to this singular task. Each stroke of the rag against the fabric felt like an apology he couldn't utter aloud. Slowly, painstakingly, he cleaned the tote, rubbing away the stains until the bright colours began to peek through again. The cheerful drawings and stitched patterns reemerged, fragile yet resilient beneath the care of his steady hands.

Piece by piece, he began to arrange your belongings. The trinkets were cleaned and carefully set back in place—each seashell, the delicate glass flower charm, the hand-painted keychain. He smoothed out the tiny notebook, the pages no longer crumpled but straightened with the same precision he reserved for the most critical of plans.

As he worked, he felt a strange lightness settle over him. He hadn't noticed the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips until it faded, replaced by the weight of reality as his gaze shifted back to you.

The bag, now pristine, sat neatly on the table beside you, a quiet testament to his care—a care no one, not even his brothers, had seen in years.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at you, at the bandages wrapped around your broken body, and the regret clawed at his chest again. His smile had vanished entirely, replaced by the grim determination that only guilt could bring.

How could he make this right? How could he even begin? Would you ever be able to forgive him, or himself, for what he had done?

The questions lingered unanswered in the stillness as he sat back down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together.

He didn't know the answers. All he knew was that he had to try.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The world swirled in an agonising haze as your consciousness began to claw its way back. Every inch of your body screamed in pain, each bruise, cut, and wound making itself known like fire crawling beneath your skin. It was almost impossible to grasp the full weight of the agony—how could anyone describe the sensation of pain this overwhelming? It was a deep, suffocating thing that made every breath feel like a battle.

You tried to open your eyes, but even that small movement was an assault on your senses. The brightness behind your eyelids was too much, the pressure of it sending a wave of dizziness crashing over you. When you managed to blink, your eyes watered uncontrollably, the effort alone nearly too much to bear. The burn on your back, the curse of that mark—his mark—lingered like a red-hot brand, the pain compounded by the memory of it being tainted with filthy, contaminated water. You couldn't even tell if the pain had dulled or if it was just the agony of everything else making it seem like the worst of it. Even if you didn't die from your injuries, you were certain that infection would claim you before long.

Slowly, with a whimper that barely escaped your cracked lips, you arched your back, instinctively trying to relieve the burning pain from the mark. The movement was weak, your body screaming in protest, but the sensation was a small reprieve. As you forced your eyes open again, blinking over and over to get your bearings, your vision began to sharpen, and the haze of confusion began to recede, bit by bit.

The white ceiling above you was a sharp contrast to the hellish basement you had been trapped in. A sterile smell filled the air, the kind that only came from a medical facility. You were no longer in that filthy, oppressive place. Were you safe now? Had someone rescued you? Was it the authorities? Or perhaps your friends, your family, or your employer had noticed you were missing and raised the alarm? Had they found you in time?

You desperately hoped for any answer that could bring you some sense of peace, but the sight before you shattered that hope in an instant.

Turning your head slightly, you froze. The tears that had started to retreat at the thought of safety now rushed back with full force. There, sitting in a chair beside your bed, was the man who had nearly ended your life.

His face was shadowed in exhaustion, his posture slumped slightly as if he'd nodded off in his seat. His presence hit you like a blow to the chest, a knot of raw fear twisting in your gut. The man who had tortured you, who had burned you, who had broken you was right there. The man who was responsible for every inch of pain you'd endured.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and despite your body's desperate need to remain still, the fear surged within you. You couldn't help but tremble, a silent cry of terror rising in your chest.

But even in your panic, something else stirred—a strange, foreign confusion. He was here. In this room. But he wasn't hurting you. Was he... watching over you? Was this some new kind of torment? A psychological game? The thought made your head spin.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you tried to shift, but your body refused to obey. You were broken in every sense of the word, and now, trapped by your own fear and pain, you couldn't make sense of anything. All you knew was that the man who had caused all of this—the man who had dragged you into this nightmare—was right there, inches away from you.

And you had no idea what it meant.

Your attempts to keep your sobs quiet failed, the soft, broken sounds escaping against your will. Each tremor in your chest seemed to echo in the sterile room, and despite the pain, your body recoiled in fear as you saw him stir. His brow furrowed, eyes fluttering open slowly, the grogginess of sleep fading as he registered the sound—and then, his gaze locked with yours.

Panic surged through you, your breath hitching violently as his dark eyes met your own, wide and trembling, your irises blown out with terror. You wanted to scream, to run, but your body betrayed you, too weak and broken to do anything but sink further into the thin blanket covering you. All you could do was shrink back, the ache in your body drowned out by the overwhelming fear coursing through your veins.

Hongjoong froze, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then, he sat up straighter, slowly, deliberately, as if trying not to startle you further. His jaw clenched, and for a second, the silence stretched unbearably between you. He raised his hands carefully, palms facing you in a universal gesture of peace, his movements measured and cautious, like one might approach a wounded animal.

"Hey," he began softly, his voice low and careful, as though it might shatter you further. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

You didn't believe him. How could you? The fear in your eyes deepened, your body curling instinctively beneath the covers, though every movement brought fresh waves of agony. Your eyes darted around the room, seeking escape, seeking anyone else—but it was only him.

He sighed, a heavy sound filled with something that almost resembled regret. He stayed seated, keeping his hands up, as if showing he was unarmed would make any difference to the scars he had already left on you. "Nobody will hurt you again," he said, and his voice trembled, just barely. "That... that includes me."

You watched him, breath ragged, your body trembling with the effort to stay still. He swallowed hard, the guilt written in every line of his face as he continued, his tone thick with something you couldn't name—shame? Guilt? Desperation? "I know this is all very confusing, and you have no reason to trust me, but we made a mistake. I made a mistake."

He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed again, struggling with the weight of the words. "You're not who we thought you were. And for that—for everything we... I put you through—I'm sorry."

His apology hung in the air, but it did nothing to ease the terror in your heart. It sounded sincere, but sincerity didn't erase the pain, the scars, the nightmare that still lingered in your mind. It didn't change the fact that this man, who now sat before you looking so remorseful, had been the one to destroy you.

Tears continued to stream down your face, and all you could do was stare at him, disbelieving and broken, the word sorry echoing hollowly in your mind. He had taken everything from you, and now he expected that word to make it right?

The silence stretched between you, fragile and suffocating, as you lay there—shattered, terrified, and unsure of what came next.

As if your body had decided to break the unbearable silence itself, your stomach let out a loud, insistent growl. The sound was jarring in the stillness, so absurdly out of place that it caught both of you off guard. You gasped, clutching the thin blanket tighter to your face, cheeks burning despite the pain radiating through your body. Humiliation and fear clashed within you. Would he be disgusted? Would he regret sparing you? Was this the moment he'd change his mind?

You couldn't help but brace yourself.

But instead of anger or disdain, he simply blinked in surprise before his lips parted, and he mumbled softly, "Oh, right. Stupid me. You must be starving." His voice carried a gentleness that was almost foreign, as if the words were meant more for himself than you.

The wooden chair scraped lightly against the floor as he pushed it back, the sound startling in the quiet room. He stood slowly, the motion casual, almost hesitant. "I'll bring you something to eat," he said, the words so ordinary, so kind, that they felt unreal.

And then, just like that, he walked out of the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

You lay frozen, staring at the spot where he'd been moments ago, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Your mind spun in confusion, trying to reconcile the man who had tortured you with the one who now spoke softly and promised food. Was this some twisted game? Was he really going to bring you food—or was it laced with poison, a final, cruel trick?

But if he wanted you dead, why not just finish it when he had the chance? Why tend to your wounds, only to kill you later? The questions swirled relentlessly.

You bit your trembling lip, tears pricking the corners of your eyes again. He could have killed you. You had seen it in his eyes that day—the moment he gave the final order. You had accepted it then, surrendering to fate, your body succumbing to the darkness.

Yet here you were. Alive.

Still shaking, you turned your head to the door, trying to comprehend the reality before you. Was this real? Was he truly changing—or was this a prelude to something worse?

The confusion and fear gnawed at you, but beneath it, a glimmer of something unfamiliar lingered.

Hope.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

"Here," he said softly, holding out a spoonful of chicken soup to your lips. The aroma was heavenly—rich and savoury, exactly what your starved body craved after days without food. Your stomach clenched painfully in response, desperate for sustenance. Yet, despite the temptation, you frowned and turned your face away.

He sighed, his hand lowering slightly but not withdrawing entirely. The bowl in his other hand trembled ever so slightly as if he wasn't sure what to do next. Finally, he set it gently on the table beside you, the warm liquid inside rippling quietly.

Eyes trailing after his movements, you caught sight of your bag resting there. It wasn't in the state you remembered—no longer a crumpled, filthy mess. It had been cleaned meticulously, every stitch visible and tidy, the fabric now free from dirt and grime.

His voice interrupted your thoughts, soft and almost hesitant. "Oh yeah, your bag. I... got busy while you were sleeping and cleaned it up."

You clutched the blanket tighter, sceptical. Him? Cleaning your bag? It was absurd.

"Everything inside too," he added, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You have some pretty cool stuff."

Your eyes widened, heart racing. He touched your things? Against your better judgement, you reached out, wanting to verify the state of your belongings, only to let out a sharp cry as pain flared through your body with the movement.

He was beside you instantly, his hands hovering, unsure whether to touch or retreat. His face twisted in something that looked suspiciously like hurt when you recoiled, sinking back into the bed to avoid him.

Clearing his throat, he asked, voice soft, "You want your bag?"

You nodded timidly, watching him closely. His small smile returned, gentle and relieved. "Let me help you," he murmured, pulling his chair closer. He placed the bag on the bed between you both, unzipping it carefully for you to see inside.

For the first time since waking up, your eyes softened. Everything was as he said—clean, neatly arranged. Trembling fingers reached out for the glass flower charm nestled inside, your favourite trinket. But before you could touch it, your stomach betrayed you again with a loud, desperate growl.

Humiliated, you drew your hand back, shrinking into yourself.

He chuckled softly, reaching for the bowl again. "I know you don't trust me, and you shouldn't," he admitted, his tone gentle and sincere, "but I can assure you, this is safe to consume." To prove it, he scooped a generous spoonful and took a bite himself, letting out an exaggerated hum of satisfaction.

You swallowed hard, the sight and smell tormenting you. Still, you hesitated when he held out another spoonful.

"If you won't eat it," he said with a sigh, "then I'll finish the rest." He raised the spoon toward his own mouth as if to follow through.

Before he could, you opened your mouth quickly, and his grin softened. Gently, he fed you, the warm broth sliding down your throat like liquid gold, soothing and comforting. The flavours were simple, yet after days of deprivation, it felt like the most luxurious meal you'd ever had.

He remained calm, every action slow and deliberate, offering care despite your fear and mistrust. His patience was unsettling, yet... somehow, in that moment, the terrifying man you had known felt like a distant memory.

But the pain in your body lingered. And so did the scars.

Hongjoong felt a warmth he couldn't explain swelling in his chest as you finished the final spoonful, the empty bowl resting between you both like a fragile truce. His eyes softened as he watched you, vulnerable yet still defiant, the faintest remnants of tears glistening on your lashes. He reached forward, hand poised to wipe the corner of your lips, but before he could, a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

He blinked, and it was as if a mask fell into place. The softness in his gaze vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding demeanour you knew too well. He set the bowl on the table, the clink of ceramic against wood too loud in the heavy silence. Straightening in his seat, shoulders squared, he uttered a firm, "Come in."

You shrank back into the bed instinctively, your body curling as far from him as your injuries would allow. The door creaked open, and another man stepped inside—his brow raising slightly when he noticed you were awake.

"Hyung," he said, his tone both respectful and urgent, "you're needed at the meeting. To discuss our next steps, now that the..." He hesitated, casting a brief glance your way, as if unsure how much to say in your presence. "The actual spy remains at large."

Hongjoong nodded, the authority in his posture unwavering. "I'll be there. Thank you, Jongho." His voice was clipped, businesslike, a stark contrast to the gentle tone he'd used with you only moments before. "Summon the doctor. Have her checked thoroughly and ensure she's comfortable."

The man named Jongho gave a short nod and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a moment, the Captain remained seated, his back straight, tension radiating from him. Then, as if reminded of your presence, he turned to you once more. His expression softened, just for a second, as he offered the faintest smile—fleeting but genuine. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "No one will hurt you again. I won't let them."

Before you could react, the smile vanished, his face hardening once more as he rose to his feet. Without another glance, he strode to the door and exited, the soft thud of his boots fading into the distance.

You lay there, staring at the closed door, heart racing, mind spinning. The man who had nearly destroyed you had just promised your protection. And despite everything, a single, terrifying thought whispered through your mind:

I believe you.

The room felt unnervingly quiet after his departure, the air still heavy with the remnants of his presence. You stayed frozen for a moment, listening to the silence, your pulse still thundering in your ears. Slowly, cautiously, you shifted beneath the blanket, every movement sending fresh waves of pain rippling through your battered body.

But you endured it, your gaze locked on the bag resting beside you. Trembling fingers reached out, brushing against its fabric, now pristine compared to how you last remembered it—torn, dirtied, ruined. Carefully, you pulled it closer, clutching it to your chest like a lifeline, tears welling up as you stroked the surface. Your fingers traced over the familiar stitches and doodles, remnants of happier times, of days spent working, laughing, living.

Were your loved ones searching for you? How frantic must they be, wondering if you were still alive, hoping, praying for your return? The thought broke something inside you, and you wept silently, the tears streaming down your face as you reached inside the bag.

Piece by piece, your belongings greeted you, neatly arranged—your keychain, your tiny souvenirs, even the little trinkets you'd collected on that ill-fated day. None of them bore the grime and cruelty you had last seen, each one painstakingly cleaned, cared for. Despite yourself, a hollow sob escaped your lips, and you hated how much it affected you.

At the very bottom of the bag, your trembling hand closed around the familiar worn edges of your notebook. You pulled it out, your tears falling freely as you held it close, opening the cover with a sniffle. Flipping through the pages, you found the list you had written, the innocent to-do list that had led you into this nightmare. Your thumb traced the ink of your handwriting—dotted with tiny stars and hearts—and you almost smiled through the pain.

But it wasn't your handwriting on the newest page. You froze, blinking through your tears as you stared at the words, scrawled in a neat, unfamiliar script:

I'm sorry. I will make it right again, I promise.

Your breath caught in your throat, a sob escaping that you couldn't suppress. He had written it. The very man who had branded you, broken you. And yet here, in this quiet, fragile moment, his apology was inked into your most personal possession.

It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

But it was something.

The notebook fell from your hands, landing on your lap as you curled around it, weeping not just from pain, but from the deep, agonising confusion that tangled with it. You didn't know what to feel anymore. Hatred? Grief? Or some terrible, unbidden hope that his words weren't just lies?

As the tears blurred your vision, you whispered brokenly to no one, "Why does it hurt more now?"

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The days stretched into a haze of silence and uncertainty. You hadn't seen him since that moment when he fed you soup and scribbled his apology into your notebook. In his absence, Jongho became a constant presence—a quiet sentinel, always bringing what you needed but never lingering too long. Aside from him, the kind doctor, with her gentle hands and soothing voice, tended to your wounds, her care meticulous and soft. But it was always just Jongho and her. Never the Captain.

At first, you felt like a prisoner, wondering what the end of this strange hospitality would bring. Would they let you go? Was this kindness a façade before some darker fate awaited? But as the days went on, your thoughts turned inward, your hands finding comfort in writing. You filled parchment after parchment with letters—letters to your parents, your best friend, your employer. They were full of reassurances you weren't even sure you believed. I'm alive. I'm safe. I will come back. But the ink soothed you, even if you knew they might never be sent.

Today was no different, except for the soft murmurs between you and the doctor as she changed your dressings. Her hands worked deftly, the cool air brushing against your skin as she peeled away the layers of gauze and replaced them with fresh, clean bandages. You let your mind drift, thinking of the promise he had scrawled in your notebook. He said he'd make it right. But how? Will I get to leave? Will I ever see my old life again? And if I do… will I ever be the same?

The faint creak of the door interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up instinctively, expecting Jongho's usual unhurried entrance. But it wasn't the Anchor.

It was him.

Your breath caught, and you froze, eyes wide as you met the gaze of Kim Hongjoong. He, too, stilled in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps? Regret? His gaze fell to your back, to the horrid brand etched into your skin, and you saw the way he flinched.

He wasn't the only one.

Your body trembled involuntarily, an instinctive recoil from the man who had caused you so much pain. The doctor, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening the air, glanced up with a warm smile. "Oh, you're here! I'm almost done, just give me a minute."

The gang leader nodded stiffly, but he didn't speak. He quickly averted his gaze, turning away as if the sight of you was unbearable. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it should be.

But not for the same reasons as before.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, clutching the edge of the blanket as the doctor finished her work, her hands light on your skin. She hummed softly, her presence a soothing balm to your raw nerves. But your focus remained on him—on the way his shoulders tensed, on the way he refused to meet your eyes again. When he did chance a glance, he caught your gaze, and you saw it clearly: shame.

His lips parted, but no words came. You wanted to demand answers. Why are you here? What do you want from me? But your voice remained trapped in your throat.

The doctor stood, packing up her supplies with a satisfied smile. "There we are," she said brightly, glancing between the two of you. "I'll leave you to rest now." She nodded respectfully to Hongjoong before quietly excusing herself, leaving you alone with him.

The door clicked shut, and the silence between you thickened. You stared at him, your heart pounding, as he stood there, still and unsure. He finally spoke, his voice low and rough, as if it hurt to say the words.

"I didn't mean to... interrupt." He looked down, hands clenched at his sides. "I only came to see how you were."

You didn't know what to say. Under normal circumstances, perhaps a thank you would have been appropriate—but this wasn't normal, and he didn't deserve that. So you kept quiet, your lips pressed into a thin line, your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

He sighed softly, the sound barely audible, before clearing his throat and moving to sit beside you, just as he had that day with the soup. He settled into the chair with a quiet grace, attempting a small, hesitant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze flickered to the books, papers, and pens scattered across the nursing table beside your bed.

"I hope Jongho managed to get you everything you asked for," he said gently, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to startle you. You nodded, but kept your eyes downcast, focused on your wringing hands.

His gaze followed yours, landing on the letters you had written—the stack of parchment covered in your careful handwriting. For a moment, you tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash. Would he order his men to burn them? Would he scold you for daring to think of leaving, for daring to hope?

But instead, his voice was soft. "Would you like me to deliver them?"

You froze, lifting your head slowly, your wide, disbelieving eyes meeting his earnest gaze. He gestured toward the letters with a slight movement of his hand. "The letters," he clarified. "I could send them for you."

Your disbelief must have shown on your face, the way your brow furrowed and your lips parted slightly in shock. He saw it. He felt it. And it cut deeper than he expected. Of course, you still saw him as a monster. Why wouldn't you? He had given you every reason to believe that. If he wanted to change that, he would need to do more—much more.

He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, before looking at you again with an expression that was raw and unguarded. "Look," he began, voice heavy with something that felt dangerously close to regret. "You're not trapped here, in case you're wondering. You're free to leave whenever you want."

You blinked, your heart racing at the words. Could you believe him? Could you trust that freedom was within your reach?

"It's just that…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "After everything we—I've done to you, the least I can do is help you heal. To nurse you back to health, to give you what you need. I need to make it right. That's all I want. For you to get better, to return to yourself. And if there's anything you need to make that happen… just say the word."

His voice dropped to an almost pleading tone. "So tell me—do you want those letters delivered? Is that it?"

You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of deception, any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was honesty. Whether or not it was real, you didn't know. But the sincerity in his tone, the earnestness in his eyes—it was undeniable.

And you couldn't lie to yourself. The letters were what you wanted. To set your mind and heart at ease. To reassure your loved ones that you were still alive, still here, even if only barely.

So you nodded.

He exhaled slowly, as if relieved, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a glimmer of something softer in his expression. "Okay," he said simply. "I'll make sure they're delivered."

You struggled, the words stuck in your throat like stubborn stones, not fear this time—but something else. Something unfamiliar and unsettling. You nodded again, the gesture small and hesitant, and to your surprise, he seemed to find it… endearing. His smile softened further, and though you wanted to resent him for it, there was something disarming about the warmth in his expression.

Noticing the way you hesitated, as if wanting to speak but unsure how, he shifted in his chair, intertwining his fingers and leaning forward, careful in his every movement. He stopped just short of your space, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to avoid overwhelming you. His eyes, soft and patient, held yours, and the corners of his lips tugged upward in that same gentle smile—a silent reassurance: I won't hurt you. It's okay.

He seemed aware of how much he was smiling, almost as if surprised by it himself. His eyes glimmered with something that felt out of place in a man like him—genuine kindness. It struck you then, how foreign that smile must have been on his face, as if it had gone unused for too long. You wondered who he had once been, before this life of cruelty hardened him. And you hated that part of you, the part desperate for softness, wanted to know.

"It's alright," he said softly, his voice gentle and warm. "You don't have to be afraid. Just tell me—what do you want?"

The tenderness in his tone felt unreal. This was the same man who had once stood over you, cold and unyielding, ready to snuff out your life. And yet here he was now, speaking to you as if you were fragile, precious even. It was maddening. Confusing. And yet, damn you for being nothing more than a frail human aching for kindness, your guard cracked, just a little.

You didn't know why you asked it, why this question had been sitting in the back of your mind, waiting for its chance to escape. But when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, trembling with vulnerability. "Your name."

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, silence stretched between you, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost regretful. And then, in that quiet space, he realised the truth: from the very beginning, through everything he had put you through, he had never once told you his name.

He sat back slightly, exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Hongjoong," he said, his voice steady but tender, as if offering you something sacred. "My name is Hongjoong."

Your lips parted, and though you had imagined feeling hatred for this name, it didn't come. Instead, all you felt was the raw ache of everything left unsaid.

"Hongjoong," you repeated, tasting the name on your tongue like a fragile thing, and the way you said it felt like the start of something neither of you could yet name.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Hongjoong had made it a point to visit you every evening, just before the world outside your room fell silent for the night. At first, you dreaded those moments, unsure of his intentions or what he might say. But as the days turned into weeks, those visits became routine. He would sit beside your bed or across from you at the small table, his demeanour always calm, his tone soft and steady, and slowly, piece by piece, he unravelled the mystery of who he was, what this place meant, and how you had been drawn into their world.

His name, you learned, was more than just a name. He was the leader of this place, a sprawling mansion that served as the heart of a powerful syndicate—a gang, as you quickly realised. The people here, the ones who moved with deadly precision and cold efficiency, were his crew. Not just criminals, but men who had pledged their loyalty to him and each other in the face of a world that sought to destroy them.

You had been caught in the crossfire of a feud between two factions, mistaken for an enemy spy in a moment of chaos. It explained the brutality with which you had been treated, the mistrust that lingered until the truth emerged too late. "You weren't supposed to be hurt," he told you one night, voice thick with regret. "I didn't know who you were. If I had known..." He never finished those sentences, leaving the unsaid to hang in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

And now, the pieces fit. The puzzle you had struggled to solve finally made sense, but with that clarity came an unsettling reality: you were surrounded by criminals. Even if Hongjoong had promised safety, you were in a den of people capable of murder, of violence, of unspeakable acts committed in the name of survival and loyalty. It went against everything you believed in—your sense of morality, the honest life you had led until now.

Yet, despite your fear and discomfort, you knew you had no choice. What had happened could not be undone. The only hope you clung to was for a swift recovery, a chance to leave this world behind and return to the life you had once known.

As your injuries healed, you grew stronger. The sharp, constant pain dulled to a distant ache, and with the doctor's meticulous care, you were soon able to move around. Hongjoong had a proper room prepared for you—one more fitting, spacious, with large windows that let in the light. It was more comfortable than you dared to expect, but you knew better than to interpret it as anything more than a gesture of atonement.

Still, you couldn't deny the strange, unspoken connection that had formed between you and him. You wouldn't call it friendship—you couldn't. He was still the man who had brought you to the brink of death. But there was something. Something fragile, a bond woven through shared guilt and reluctant trust. You found yourself relying on him in ways that shamed you. You hated it, hated how you felt a strange sense of calm when he was near, as if the very person responsible for your suffering was now the anchor keeping you steady.

It was complicated. Confusing. And worst of all, it made you question whether the lines you thought were so clear—between captor and captive, between right and wrong—had begun to blur.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong wrestled with the same confusion—especially about the emotions that had begun to surface lately. He couldn't shake the persistent need to be near you. It gnawed at him like an unrelenting tide, wearing away the walls he had built over the years. He told himself it was duty, responsibility. After all, he was the reason you had nearly lost your life. If he hadn't acted so quickly on false information, none of this would have happened. He reasoned that it was only right to take full responsibility, to ensure your recovery—physically and otherwise.

That logic gave him something to hold on to, but it didn't explain everything. It didn't explain why his eyes instinctively sought you out whenever he walked the halls or the strange calm that washed over him when he saw you safe. It didn't explain the warmth that bloomed in his chest when he heard your voice or glimpsed your rare, hesitant smiles. No, it wasn't just responsibility anymore. It was something deeper, something he wasn't ready to name.

After another gruelling meeting filled with discussions of crisis management and strategies to track down the elusive spy, the Captain's head buzzed with tension. His face remained a mask of cold authority, his steps measured, his shoulders squared. He passed his men without sparing a glance, his thoughts elsewhere. Always on you. The dining hall was empty, your room vacant, and the painting room—where you often sat doodling, lost in thought—was deserted. A strange, unwelcome worry tightened in his chest.

Relief only came when he pushed open the heavy library doors and saw you standing there. You stood in a sunlit aisle, the golden light streaming through the tall windows, bathing you in a soft glow. The light illuminated your features—now mostly healed, the bruises reduced to faint shadows, the cuts mere whispers of what they had been. You were beautiful, he realised, and the realisation ached in a way he hadn't anticipated. He closed the door quietly behind him, the sound muted, careful not to startle you. His steps were slow and deliberate as he approached, his heart inexplicably racing.

You were focused on a pressed flower bookmark tucked between the pages of a book, your head tilted slightly as you admired it, your fingers gently brushing the fragile petals. The scene was simple, ordinary. Yet it stirred something in him, an unspoken truth he wasn't ready to confront.

"Marigold," he said softly, his voice low to not disturb the tranquillity. "That's my favourite flower."

You looked up, startled at first, but your expression softened when you saw him. "Really? It's mine too," you replied, your voice steady, though a hint of curiosity lingered in your tone.

A small smile tugged at his lips, softer than usual, though it carried the weight of everything left unsaid. "It is? Then you should keep it," he said, nodding toward the bookmark, surprising even himself with the offer.

"But—" you began, gesturing toward the marked page.

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I never had time to finish the book anyway. Can't even remember what it's about. Just take it. It's yours now."

Anything you want, it's yours.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched, fragile yet profound, like a delicate thread holding more than either of you dared admit. Hongjoong didn't know what this feeling was, only that it was growing. And being near you eased a part of him he hadn't realised was broken.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The evening air was still, and the faint glow of the lamp in your room cast a soft halo beneath the door, a beacon that drew him to check on you one last time before retiring. He knocked gently, expecting the usual soft response or even a brief acknowledgement, but there was only silence. His brows knitted in concern, and he knocked again, the sound a little firmer this time. Still, no answer.

Then he heard it—a muffled yelp.

Panic surged through him. He couldn't wait. "I'm coming in," he called, his voice urgent but not harsh, and without hesitation, he pushed open the door.

The sight that met him stopped him in his tracks. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your shirt halfway unbuttoned, exposing your shoulder and part of your back. The fresh bandage you had been attempting to wrap around yourself lay unravelled on the floor, a tangle of gauze mocking your efforts. Your face was flushed with embarrassment, and the moment you realised he was there, you scrambled to pull your shirt back up, your movements frantic and clumsy.

He didn't look away, not out of disrespect, but because he couldn't ignore the mark on your back. That cursed brand. Every time he saw it, it felt like a punch to the gut, a cruel reminder of his failure. If he could change one thing in his life, it would be that—undoing the moment that left such a permanent scar on you. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, before finally speaking, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Do you need help?"

Your immediate response was a firm shake of your head. "I'm fine," you insisted, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you. He could see it all: the mess of your hair, the exhaustion etched into your face, the slight tremor in your hands. You had been at this for a while, stubbornly trying to do it alone, and it was clear that you were anything but fine.

Hongjoong sighed quietly, stepping closer, each movement deliberate and gentle, as if afraid he might scare you away. "You're not," he said softly, without accusation, without pity, only quiet understanding. He knelt in front of you, eyes level with yours, and held out his hand, palm up, an unspoken offer. "Let me help."

You hesitated, biting your lip, your pride warring with the exhaustion. But eventually, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, your eyes downcast. He reached for the discarded bandage on the floor, his movements slow, deliberate, as if trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

Carefully, he unbuttoned your shirt just enough to reveal your shoulder, his fingers never straying more than necessary. The moment felt intimate but not in the way that made you feel vulnerable. It was gentle. Respectful. As he wrapped the bandage around you with practised precision, his hands were steady, careful not to brush against your skin more than needed.

"You don't have to do everything alone," he murmured as he fastened the bandage, his voice like a balm. "I know you're strong, but you can let someone help you."

You didn't respond immediately, the warmth of his words sinking in as you sat in silence. Finally, you whispered, "Thank you."

He gave a faint smile, one you didn't see but could hear in the softness of his voice. "Anytime."

You finally turned to face him, your breath catching when you realised just how close he was. His face, so much softer now than the man who had once been your captor, was mere inches away. As if more modest than you, he quickly moved to help button your shirt, his fingers deft but gentle, avoiding your gaze as if giving you privacy in a moment that was anything but private. Your eyes, however, couldn't stop following the sincerity etched into his expression, hating the way it made your heart race. How could your body betray you like this, reacting to someone who had once been so cruel?

You swallowed hard, trying to banish those thoughts, and lowered your gaze. That's when you noticed his wrist peeking from the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. It was the first time you saw them, the scars that twisted from his elbows to his wrists like angry, jagged reminders. Your brows furrowed, curiosity—and something deeper—propelling you forward. Without thinking, your hand reached out and grasped his as he pulled away, holding it gently.

"H-how'd you get these?" your voice trembled, more from the vulnerability in the air than any fear.

Hongjoong stilled. The small smile on his face faded, replaced by a haunting stillness. He pulled his hands back gently, as if realising for the first time he had no right to be near you, no right to touch you. He placed your hands carefully back in your lap, almost reverently, and turned toward the window, the fading sunlight casting shadows across his face.

A humourless chuckle escaped him, low and bitter, as he glanced at the scars on his arms before shifting his gaze to the darkened horizon. "Let me tell you the story of a boy," he began, his voice void of emotion but heavy with pain, "who had everything taken from him. Not that he had much to begin with—only a mother who loved him more than anything." His voice cracked, almost imperceptibly, but you caught it. "Even that wasn't enough for fate."

He didn't look at you, eyes fixed on the darkening sky, as if it held all the answers. "My father was a worthless drunk with a gambling problem. He left us with nothing but debts, and my mother… she worked herself to the bone, trying to keep us afloat. But it was never enough. The loan sharks came one night." His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I was too young to understand what they wanted, why they were shouting at her. But I remember… I remember watching them beat her to the ground."

His voice dropped to a whisper, but it cut like a blade. "I watched them strip her, violate her, and when they were done, they slit her throat as if she were nothing." He exhaled shakily, his jaw tightening. "They left me there with her body. Taunted me. If they had known what they created that night… maybe they wouldn't have left me alive."

You sat motionless, your heart aching at the raw truth of his confession. Suddenly, everything made sense—how he had become this way, hardened and cold. You could understand now, even though it hurt to. Perhaps you would have become the same if you had endured such horrors. No one is born evil. We are all blank canvases, shaped by what we experience, by the pain life forces us to endure.

His eyes fell to the scars on his arms, and a bitter smile tugged at his lips. "These," he murmured, flexing his fingers as if feeling the memory burn anew, "are souvenirs from that night." His voice grew colder, distant, as if reliving the moment. "I remember their nails clawing at my arms, desperate to cling to life. But it didn't matter. Those bastards were never going to escape."

Despite the chilling edge in his words, you felt no fear. Instead, you saw the boy hidden beneath the armour, a boy the world had broken too soon. He turned back to you, his eyes no longer cold but filled with a deep, aching regret. "And that's why," he said, voice trembling with emotion, "I wish I could undo what I did to you. I swore I'd never harm the innocent, never become what they were. But I failed." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Nothing I do will ever make this right."

To his surprise, you reached out, your hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering comfort where he expected none. He turned to you, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall.

"It's okay, Hongjoong," you said softly, your voice unwavering yet gentle. "Everyone makes mistakes."

And then you smiled—a small, genuine smile, brimming with forgiveness. It shattered something within him, but it also healed something far deeper, a part of him he thought was long dead.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Things had shifted significantly between you since that fateful night when he first bared his soul, revealing the shadows of his dark past. Your understanding unlocked something in him, and in turn, you also began to open up. Little by little, you spoke more, smiled more freely, and allowed yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. Hongjoong, too, had changed. What once were brief visits to check on you became shared meals, quiet conversations, and the gentle ritual of him changing your wound dressings daily. It had become a routine—a comforting rhythm filled with tender moments, lingering touches, deep gazes, and countless almosts.

Almost kisses. Almost confessions. Almost something more.

Just a little longer, he told himself, fighting the constant urge to feel your lips against his. He needed to earn your trust fully before daring to take that step. He knew he didn't deserve you—but the heart wants what it wants.

But of course, just as he allowed himself to believe things were finally settling, reality reminded him otherwise. He should have known better than to think peace could last in his world. You and he had grown closer, but the life he led was never one to offer tranquillity for long. Conflict loomed on the horizon. An important meeting was fast approaching—a meeting arranged long before you had entered his life.

The Black Pirates, an organisation that had always operated with an exclusively male force, had struck a delicate negotiation with the Red Room, a renowned spy training facility specialised in producing elite female operatives. Though both syndicates had thrived independently, they saw mutual benefit in an alliance, especially as the shadowy threat of the White Serpents continued to grow. A treaty was in the works and was supposed to be one of Hongjoong's top priorities.

Yet, things had changed. You were here now, and part of him refused to leave you. The thought of being away, of leaving you vulnerable even for a moment, gnawed at him. So he made a decision: Seonghwa would attend the meeting in his place. The eldest, the Gentleman, was their best negotiator, and if anyone could secure a favourable outcome, it was him.

"It's set then," he said, his tone final. "Seonghwa will represent me for this." He leaned back slightly, eager to conclude the meeting and return to you.

But he should have known better than to expect it would be accepted without protest.

The moment the words left his mouth, Mingi's hand slammed onto the table, the force reverberating through the room. "Really, hyung?" he spat, his voice heavy with frustration. "You're going to send someone else on your behalf for something this important? I was already fed up with this nonsense, but enough is enough!"

The screech of the temperamental member's chair echoed as he shoved it back, rising to his feet, the fire in his eyes blazing. Yunho reached out, gripping his arm in warning, but Mingi shook him off, his glare fixed on their leader.

"No!" he growled, his voice rising. "When will this madness stop?! I'm sick and tired of you being distracted by her. At first, I understood—you felt guilty, like you owed her something. But now? You're letting it go too far! You've been wasting precious time hovering around her, growing soft! And now you're putting our work at risk. When does it end, huh?"

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with the weight of Mingi's accusation. Hongjoong remained seated, his fingers interlocked on the table. He met the taller man's gaze with a cold, unwavering stare.

"Sit down, Mingi," he said quietly, his voice calm, but the authority in it was unmistakable.

Mingi didn't move, his jaw tight, defiance radiating from him. "Answer me," he demanded. "When does it end?"

The room seemed to hold its breath.

"You think I'm neglecting my responsibility," Hongjoong said, his voice low, even, and far colder than before. He rose slowly, pushing his chair back with a deliberate grace. "You think I'm growing soft. Maybe you're right." His eyes, sharp and cutting, bore into Mingi's. "But everything I do is for this gang's survival. Including ensuring her safety."

Mingi scoffed, disbelief written across his face. "Her? She's not one of us. She's a—"

"Enough," Hongjoong snapped, the steel in his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He stepped closer, towering over Mingi now. "You question my judgement again, and it won't be this quiet." His voice softened, but the danger in it was palpable. "I trust Seonghwa to handle this. And I trust you to remember your place."

For a moment, it seemed as if Mingi might push further, but his best friend, the Enforcer's hand tightened on his arm, a silent plea. He growled in frustration and, after a tense beat, finally sat down, seething but silent.

Seonghwa's calm voice broke the heavy quiet. "I'll handle it, Cap. You've made the right call." He shot a glance at Mingi. "We all want the same thing: to be stronger, united. Let's not lose sight of that."

Hongjoong's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his eyes never left Mingi. "Good," he said, his tone final. "Then it's settled."

As the others filed out, Mingi lingered near the door, shooting one last glare at his leader before leaving without another word. The Captain remained behind, letting out a long breath, the weight of the confrontation pressing on him.

He should have known peace wouldn't last. But as his thoughts turned to you, one question echoed in his mind.

How much more would he have to sacrifice to protect you before it all fell apart?

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you had already found the answer to his unspoken question.

"Hongjoong," you whispered, your voice trembling as it cut through the stillness of the dimly lit library.

The soft glow of the lamps cast gentle shadows over the shelves, wrapping the room in an intimate quiet. Across from you, he sat, his eyes warm and attentive, watching you with that familiar, close-lipped smile—the one that always made your heart stutter. His expression was gentle, full of a quiet tenderness that you both craved and feared.

But tonight, that smile felt like a dagger. It broke something inside you, making what you were about to say hurt even more.

"Yes?" he responded just as softly, his voice a soothing balm you didn't deserve. He leaned forward slightly, the care in his gaze evident, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as they clutched the delicate bookmark he had given you, your lifeline in this moment of unbearable heaviness. "I'm… I'm all better now," you began, the words sticking in your throat. "I wish to leave. I want to go home."

The change in him was immediate. His smile vanished, and his hand shot across the table, grasping yours before you could pull away. His touch was warm but trembling, desperate. "Wha—where is this coming from?" His voice cracked, panic threading through every word. He hadn't known how long he'd have you by his side, but he never imagined losing you this soon. He wasn't ready. "Was it Mingi? Did he say something to you? I swear to god, if he—"

"No," you interrupted, shaking your head firmly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "He didn't do anything." You squeezed his hand, trying to draw strength from the contact. "I just… I think it's time. Time for both of us to return to our own lives."

His grip tightened, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No," he whispered, shaking his head as if refusing to believe your words could make them untrue. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to leave yet. The doctor—I'm having her work on something for the mark. You're not healed, not really."

You bit your lip, his raw emotion tearing through your resolve. You wanted to stay—God, how you wanted to stay—but the memory of that argument was too fresh. You had stood outside the meeting room earlier, waiting for him to finish, only to hear Mingi's voice raised in anger, accusing him of neglect, of weakness. And you had heard Hongjoong's silence—heavy, burdened. You couldn't be the reason for his pain. You couldn't be the weakness he couldn't afford.

"I heard it all," you confessed, voice trembling. "The argument. I know how much I'm complicating things for you." Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away. "It's not fair—to you, to them. We're from different worlds, Hongjoong. You and I… we were never going to work." Your voice softened as you finally named what had been unspoken: the feelings between you both.

His face crumpled, the pain etched into every line devastating to witness. "Don't do this," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please… don't."

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. "This is how we make things right," you whispered. "You wanted to fix what you did, to give me a chance at freedom. This is it."

Silence engulfed the room, thick and suffocating. Slowly, he let go of your hand, as if releasing it would break him entirely. His head bowed, shoulders slumping under the weight of your decision.

"Oh…" It was all he could manage, and the raw pain in that single word nearly undid you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The quiet of the library, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating. You had made your choice, and you believed it was the right one.

So why did it hurt so much?

"I'm sorry," you whispered, standing from your chair. You hesitated, wanting to offer some kind of solace, but knowing it would only prolong the pain. "Goodnight, Hongjoong."

With every step you took toward the door, it felt as though pieces of your heart were left behind. And when you reached the threshold, you heard it—his broken, whispered plea.

"Don't go."

But you didn't stop. You couldn't. Because sometimes, love wasn't enough.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

As if running from you could change the inevitable, Hongjoong buried himself in work, pouring over plans and strategies like a man determined to forget. Meetings stretched longer, tasks multiplied, and he worked late into the night, ignoring the hollow ache growing in his chest. But no amount of work could silence the truth—or erase the memory of your soft, breaking voice.

He could only run for so long.

One day, the quiet was broken by Jongho's hesitant knock on his office door. The youngest cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under the Captain's tired gaze. "What is it?" he sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to mask the weariness in his voice.

Jongho straightened, his eyes darting to the barely open door behind him. Hongjoong followed his gaze and froze. There, framed by the narrow gap, was the unmistakable outline of your back.

"It's her, hyung," Jongho said softly, his tone more hesitant than usual. "She... she asked the doctor to give her one final check. To make sure she's fully healed." He paused, as if reluctant to continue. "She expressed her desire to leave."

The words struck like a blade, sharp and final. For a long moment, Hongjoong said nothing, his eyes locked on the empty doorway as if he could will you to return. But deep down, he knew there was nowhere left to run.

He had been a fool to believe that anything could make you stay. He put himself in your shoes for a fleeting moment, imagining what it must be like. You had a life beyond these walls—a life waiting for you to return. And even if you chose to stay, how long could he truly keep you safe in his dangerous world? How long before the life he led consumed you, too?

And even if, by some miracle, you stayed—would your loved ones ever accept him? A gang leader with blood on his hands and sins too deep to cleanse?

No. The answer was clear.

As much as it tore him apart, he knew this was the mercy you deserved. He couldn't chain you to his darkness, couldn't selfishly hold on when letting go was the only way to truly love you.

"You're right," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "You have a life of your own. I can't ask you to stay."

The Anchor remained silent, watching his leader with a rare softness in his eyes.

Men like him were never meant to love. Not after all the sins he had committed, all the lives he had taken, all the wrongs he could never make right. He didn't deserve you—not your kindness, your laughter, or the warmth you so effortlessly gave.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the door, his voice steady but hollow. "Thank you, Jongho. I trust you to make the proper arrangements for her departure."

The youngest hesitated for a moment, but when he met the finality in Hongjoong's eyes, he nodded and left quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. Silence settled over the room again, heavy and oppressive—until the door creaked open once more. The gang leader's head snapped up, irritation flashing in his eyes, but it melted away the instant he saw who it was.

You stood hesitantly in the doorway, peeking in like you weren't sure you belonged there anymore.

He shot up from his seat, his movements hurried. "O-oh, it's you. Come in..." His voice softened, and you offered a small, tentative smile as you stepped inside. He gestured toward the worn leather couch. "Please, have a seat."

But you shook your head. "No, I shouldn't stay long. I just… came to thank you for respecting my decision."

He exhaled, a bitter sound escaping his lips. "Don't thank me for that." His voice was low, laced with frustration, though not at you. "It shouldn't have taken me this long to agree. You were right." His lips curved into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. The pain there was unmistakable, and it clenched your heart painfully. "This… it has to end eventually. After all, I'm the one who did this to you. I can't possibly expect you to return my feelings—"

"Stop," you whispered, closing your eyes, shaking your head as if to ward off the self-loathing in his voice. Too late. You already had returned those feelings, and hearing him like this shattered you. "No, Hongjoong, don't say that. I just..."

He stilled, his gaze searching yours as you opened your eyes and met him, resisting the desperate urge to reach out and cup his face, to pull him into the comfort you knew he craved. But you couldn't. So instead, you smiled, soft but trembling, and extended a hand toward him.

"I'm feeling a little hungry," you said gently, your voice trembling just enough to betray your emotions. "Want to have dinner together?"

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if unsure if he had heard correctly. But how could he possibly say no? Besides, this could very well be your last meal together. Everything else could wait—damn it all.

Until the moment you were safely returned home, you were all that mattered to him.

Just until tomorrow.

Jongho had arranged your ride back tomorrow.

Hongjoong couldn't pretend anymore. He knew this would likely be the last time he'd have you like this, in this fragile peace. So, tonight, he let the walls fall. He no longer resisted the urges that had haunted him for weeks. When he reached out to feed you, gently wiping a stray bit of food from the corner of your lips, you didn't flinch. When he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your skin with a tenderness that made his chest ache, you didn't pull away.

And you didn't say a word. You just let him.

By the end of the meal, when he saw the glimmer of hesitation in your eyes—knowing you were preparing to retreat to your room—he acted quickly, grasping your hand before you could leave. His touch was firm but not forceful, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost pleading.

"Would you like to… walk with me?"

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes searching his as if trying to memorise everything about this moment. Then, wordlessly, you nodded. He led you through the grand halls of the mansion, out to the sprawling, maze-like garden, where the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the paths.

Your hands remained entwined the entire time.

The garden was silent except for the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He guided you to the centre, where a marble fountain stood, the gentle sound of water trickling into the basin adding to the quiet serenity. Clearing a spot on the cold concrete, he shrugged off his blazer, laying it down carefully before gesturing for you to sit. You did, settling beside him as the horizon stretched before you, bathed in soft, silver moonlight.

"This is nice," you murmured, breaking the silence, your voice almost lost in the cool night air.

He smiled, his gaze softening. "It is, isn't it?"

For a while, neither of you spoke. The dim lanterns cast a golden glow, wrapping you both in a warmth that felt almost unreal. Slowly, as if afraid you might slip away, he placed his hand over yours once again. This time, your fingers intertwined naturally, effortlessly, as though they had always belonged that way.

No words were necessary. Every touch, every glance, spoke of everything you felt but couldn't say.

Your heart raced as you turned toward him, only to find he was already watching you. His eyes were dark, filled with emotions you didn't dare name. He leaned in, bit by bit, closing the space between you. Your breath hitched, trembling, but you didn't move away.

"Just for tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and raw. "Can we be together? Just for tonight."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your heart aching with the weight of the unspoken goodbye. You nodded, your voice barely above a breath.

"Please."

And then, there was no more distance between you.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The morning light streamed softly through the curtains, painting the room in golden hues. Hongjoong stirred awake, the weight of sleep heavier than usual, but a comforting warmth grounded him. Instinctively, he snuggled closer, burying his face into the inviting scent that had become his solace.

It took only a moment for the realisation to hit him. The feminine scent, delicate and intoxicating, filled his senses. His heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes to find you still in his arms, your back pressed against his chest, your breathing soft and even.

For a long moment, he stayed still, simply taking you in—the way your hair spilt over the pillow, the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the warmth that radiated from you. Leaning closer, he pressed a tender kiss to your bare shoulder, the memory of last night rushing back like a tidal wave.

Kisses. Endless, intoxicating kisses, your lips against his as if you were trying to fill every unspoken word between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, your hands gripping his shirt, neither of you willing to let go. The clumsy, desperate stumbling through those kisses until you landed on the expanse of his king-sized bed—so often feeling too big, too empty for just one.

Articles of clothing had been shed piece by piece, carelessly scattered across the floor. And then… pure, unrestrained bliss. The feel of your skin against his, the soft sighs and whispered names, the way your bodies moved together like they were meant to fit. It was a night he would never forget, and one he knew he could never have again.

He swallowed hard as reality settled in. It was bittersweet, finally knowing what it was like to have you this close, only to face the cruel truth that he would have to let it all go soon. His gaze fell on the mark on your soft skin, the one that started it all, and he sighed deeply.

It was the right thing to do.

He repeated the mantra in his head, clinging to it like a lifeline. You deserved more—someone who could give you the kind of life you were meant to have, one without fear, without shadows. Someone who wasn't him.

But for now, just for this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to be selfish. He tightened his hold on you, his arm curling around your waist as if he could stop time by keeping you close. He etched every detail into his mind: the way your warmth seeped into him, the way your presence calmed his restless heart, the way this morning felt like a fragile dream he never wanted to wake from.

Because soon, it would all be over.

And he would have nothing left but these memories.

His temporary haven shattered with a jarring intrusion. The door to his bedroom flew open, and Jongho rushed in, his expression a mix of concern and urgency. "Hyung, she's not in her room—"

The Anchor's voice faltered mid-sentence as his eyes landed on you, curled up in his leader's embrace. The man sat up quickly, pulling the blanket to cover you to your neck, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. Jongho froze like a deer caught in headlights, his usual composure obliterated by the scene before him.

You stirred at the commotion, blinking yourself awake. It didn't take long to realise what had happened. Your cheeks flushed a deep red as you scrambled to free yourself from the blanket and darted off to the attached bathroom. "Excuse me," you mumbled hastily, your voice barely above a whisper, before closing the door behind you.

Jongho stood awkwardly, visibly cringing under Hongjoong's icy glare. "I didn't mean to—"

"Out," the Captain growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The youngest didn't need to be told twice. With a quick bow, he fled the room, muttering apologies under his breath.

Hongjoong exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as the weight of the morning settled on his shoulders. Deciding to give you the privacy you needed, he rose from the bed, grabbed his robe, and slipped it on before leaving the room.

As he stepped into the hall, he was greeted by none other than the Firestarter, leaning casually against the wall with a smirk plastered across his face.

"Had fun, Cap?" Mingi drawled, his voice laced with mockery. "Hope that pussy was worth everything."

Hongjoong's expression darkened instantly, his eyes narrowing into a glare that could rival a storm. "Speak for yourself, Song," he shot back, his voice steady but laced with venom. "Come mock me when you don't need an exiled noblewoman to save your ass time and time again."

Mingi's smirk faltered as Hongjoong took a step closer, his words cutting like daggers. "Don't think I haven't heard about your multiple near-failures. At least I haven't fucked up anything critical. Also," he added, his tone dropping into something bitter and final, "she's leaving today. I hope you're happy."

The weight of Hongjoong's words left Mingi speechless, his cool façade crumbling. His jaw tightened as he struggled to muster a response, but nothing coherent came to mind.

Clearing his throat, he straightened and forced a shrug, attempting to reclaim his composure. "About damn time. Good riddance," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge. Without another word, he turned and stalked off, leaving the gang leader standing there, his chest tight and his mind racing.

As much as he loathed the confrontation, he couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of satisfaction. At least now, Mingi might think twice before throwing careless words around. But the victory was hollow, his thoughts quickly returning to you.

With a deep sigh, he leaned against the wall, his fingers tracing the edge of his robe. The hours ahead loomed like a storm on the horizon, and he knew they would be some of the hardest he'd ever faced.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The air was thick with the weight of unspoken emotions as the black car idled behind you, its engine a soft hum against the gloomy backdrop. The overcast sky seemed to mirror the heaviness in both your hearts, the grey clouds threatening rain at any moment. You stood before Hongjoong, your trusty tote bag slung over your shoulder, dressed simply but beautifully, your hair pulled into a messy yet endearing style. You tried to smile, but it trembled at the edges, betraying the storm within.

Neither of you spoke right away, the silence filled with everything you wanted to say but couldn't. Instead, you reached into your bag, pulling out the glass flower charm—the delicate token you had cherished for so long.

"Give me your hand," you murmured softly.

He stepped closer without hesitation, his hand extended between you. The roughness of his palm contrasted sharply with the fragility of the charm as you placed it gently into his hand. His fingers curled around it instinctively, the same hand that once had only known destruction now cradling something so delicate with utmost care.

"For you," you said, your voice steady but laden with emotion. "It's no marigold, but—"

He cut you off with a bittersweet smile, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. "I'll cherish it," he promised, his voice quiet but resolute, as though the words themselves were a vow.

He didn't let go of your hand, his grip warm and steady. You nodded, returning his smile. "Good. Treat it with care," you said, stepping closer, your proximity making his breath hitch.

The scent of his familiar cologne wrapped around you as you leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. Your lips brushed against his skin as you whispered, "You did it, Joong. You made it all right."

His eyes fluttered closed, savouring the moment, the warmth of your presence etching itself into his memory. But then, as much as he wanted to keep you there, you pulled away gently, slipping out of his grasp.

Your backward steps toward the waiting car felt like a slow unravelling, each step tugging at the threads of his heart. He fought every instinct to run to you, to pull you back into his arms and beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't.

As you slid into the car and shut the door, he stood rooted to the spot, his chest tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He watched helplessly as the car began to roll forward, taking you further and further from him until you were nothing but a distant blur.

"It's for the best," he whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow. "You did the right thing."

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through his haze of sorrow. Turning, he found one of his men standing hesitantly nearby. "Boss," the man said carefully, "we received an update from Seonghwa. His visit to the Red Room is going to be extended due to... undisclosed circumstances."

And just like that, Hongjoong was thrust back into the chaos of his world. He nodded, his voice cold and detached. "Got it. I'll speak with the others."

He turned and strode back toward the mansion, his steps purposeful despite the turmoil inside him. His men watched him carefully, unsure if the heartbreak would erupt into anger, but he remained composed, his demeanour unreadable.

Once inside, he glanced down at the delicate charm still resting in his palm. It caught the dim light of the hall, glinting faintly like the remnants of a dream. His grip tightened around it, not enough to damage it, but enough to ground himself.

It hurt—god, it hurt—but he found solace in the fact that he had been able to love again, even if only briefly. He didn't know how long it would take for the ache to fade, perhaps it never would, but one thing was certain: he would never forget you.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The dim light of the room cast long shadows across the walls, the flickering of a single desk lamp providing the only illumination. The figure leaned back in his chair, his gloved fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood of the table. Before him lay a folder, its contents an intricate web of intel painstakingly gathered. At the very top, clipped securely, was a photograph of the Black Pirates.

The leader's face was circled in white ink—a mark of vulnerability disguised as power.

"Seems we've secured the Captain's weakness right from the start," the figure murmured, a sinister grin spreading across his face. His tone carried a disturbing mixture of amusement and certainty as he flipped the folder shut, the sound of paper against paper breaking the tense silence.

A subordinate stood nearby, his posture stiff, his eyes darting to the file with barely concealed curiosity. "Should we proceed then, sir?" he asked, his voice low but eager.

The figure chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth, and shook his head. "There's no hurry," he replied, his gloved hand resting atop the closed file like a predator savouring its next move. "Time is what we've got. Let them believe they've found their footing. Let them think they're safe."

He pushed the file to the side, leaning forward, his grin widening as his eyes gleamed with cruel intent. "We'll gather them all, one by one. No need to rush—it's always better when the prey doesn't see the trap until it's too late."

The subordinate nodded, though a hint of unease flickered across his features. "Understood, sir."

The figure reached for a glass of whiskey sitting untouched on the desk, swirling the amber liquid as if it contained the answers to every question. "Patience," he said, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent. "Patience wins wars. Let's see how far the mighty gang can go when their carefully constructed world begins to crumble."

He raised the glass in a mock toast, the light catching the golden liquid. "To the Black Pirates. And to the beginning of their end."

The room fell silent again, the only sound the faint creak of the leather chair as the figure leaned back, eyes fixed on the file. Somewhere, far from the machinations of this dark plot, Hongjoong might have felt a shiver down his spine. But for now, he was blissfully unaware, the weight of his loss still fresh, the memory of your departure his only torment.

And so, the game began.

Would you believe it? About 90% of this was drafted in a sleep-deprived state HAHA the first thing I do as soon as I get home from work is write this, so I genuinely hope this met expectations!

Are you or are you not surprised by the lack of a happy ending? If you know me well (especially readers who have been here since TWTHH), you probably saw this coming🤠

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @quailbagutte @astudyoftimeywimeystuff

By Order of the Black Pirates Tag list:

@bethelighthalazia @tsunchani @starboyyoongi @soulphoenix1618 @dimeb29

@naps-over-degree @uniq-tastic @baeksofty @hanoishere @star-my

@skteezcursed @soocore @mountiiny @londonbridges01 @lemon-sage17

@ffenjoyerdazme @frequentlykit @callmeagardengnome @side-angel @byeolttongbye0l

@cotton-candycloudz @foxinnie8 @atinyreads @iwishiwasrichasfuck @sansaurora9904

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[tulsa-trash]

Book Swap

Request: could you do a modern!pony x reader imagine where you're both in 9th grade and meet at the library, and one day you finally have the guts to ask for his number, so you guys start texting and then you start crushing on him and then you have to figure out how to tell him, so u ask two-bit and johnny for advice

WARNING(S): N/A

You sighed deeply as you began to reread the same sentence in your book for what felt like the twentieth time. It seemed as though you were reading but not even comprehending the words. To be fair, it was impossible to get lost in a book when a familiar cute boy was sitting a table over from you.

Ponyboy Curtis. How does one even begin to describe the amazing human you had the honor of being within five feet of? Unlike most guys in high school, Pony was something special. He was kind and very smart, you knew this because you have English with him. You've never seen someone so into a class before, he also appeared to have an interest in literature, like you. The both of you were nothing but mere acquaintances, and you secretly wished you could change that.

It didn't help that you found him absolutely dreamy. His brown hair was always a little messy, but it still managed to make him even cuter. You always feel your heart skip a beat whenever your eyes would meet his sparkling green ones in the hallways. You'd smile whenever you'd see him laughing with his friends, it showed off his dimples that sunk into his cheeks. Ponyboy Curtis was the boy of your dreams, and the young man was completely oblivious.

Your phone vibrated on the desk you were sitting at. Glancing up from your book, you seen that it was a text from one of your friends. After placing your bookmark in between the pages you unlocked your phone.

Evie: So? Did you talk to him yet?

You rolled your eyes after reading the message, your fingers quickly tapped at the screen as you typed your response.

Y/N: No obviously not. Now leave me alone.

Kathy: Girl go for it! He's a nice kid you said so yourself.

Y/N: Uh nope. Much rather stare at him from afar and not make a fool of myself attempting to talk to him.

Kathy: Well if you don't not only will I embarrass you in front of lover boy, everyone in this library will see me screaming at you and we'll both probably get kicked out.

Y/N: Wait what? How do you know I'm at the library?? Are you here right now???

Kathy: Look over at the fantasy section you nerd. You being you I obviously knew where YOU would be on a Saturday afternoon.

You looked up, eyes widening in shock as you saw your friend hiding behind a bookshelf watching you with a sly grin.

Kathy: Make a move now or I'm coming over there.

With already shaking hands you put your phone in your pocket and grabbed your book. You sent Kathy a pleading look, but all she did was shake her head and point towards Ponyboy violently. Taking in a deep breath, you got up. The chair scraped against the floor, creating a loud noise which made at least five people look up at you... including him.

"Oh god." You mumbled under your breath.

In your peripheral vision you could see Ponyboy's gaze return to his book, taking that as your cue to move you slowly crept to his table. You had made it to the chair directly across from him, he was so caught up in his book he didn't even notice your presence. You smiled softly, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while his eyes scanned the pages back and forth. You awkwardly cleared your throat, not too loud to disturb others but just enough for him to tear his attention from his book to notice you.

"Oh, hey." Ponyboy said, "Can I help you with somethin'?"

"Um..." Jesus this was going to be way harder than you thought. "W-Would you mind if I sat with ya?"

"Not at all. Go ahead." He sent you a friendly smile as he gestured to the chair you were at.

His smile. Your legs already feel like jello, you could've sworn you were going to collapse right then in there.

"Y/N, right?" He asked as you sat down.

"That's me. And you're Ponyboy."

"Yep, couldn't forget a name like that if you tried." He joked.

You giggled as you opened your book, Ponyboy returned to his. Curiosity got the better of you when you looked back up to see what he was reading.

"Gone With the Wind." You read aloud.

"Have you read it before?" He asked.

You shook your head, "I haven't, but I've heard only good things about it. I saw the movie about a year ago and thought it was great."

"The book is amazing!" He gushed, only to be shushed by the librarian walking by. "This is my fifth time reading it." He told you in a more hushed tone.

You snickered, "Must be really great."

"What ya got there?"

You lifted up your book from the table to reveal the cover to him, his bright eyes scanned the cover.

"The Boy in Striped Pajamas?"

"I know the title seems a bit odd, but trust me this is a good read." You told him, "This being my third time reading it."

"Well what's it about?" He asked.

You went on to tell him about your book, and he went on to tell you all about his. The both of you began to talk about anything and everything, you were beyond happy that things were going well. You were having so much fun you completely forgot about Kathy spying on you, before either of you could realize it two hours had gone by.

You peaked at your phone and cursed under your breath, the lock screen had a reminder that your shift at work was starting in less than thirty minutes.

"I really hate to end this... but I gotta go." You said.

"That sucks." He said disappointedly.

You couldn't help feeling a little giddy inside to see that he was upset you were leaving. While you got up and gathered your things, you remembered that you wanted to get his phone number badly. You just had to figure out a way to get it without making things awkward.

"Hey, Pone?"

He hummed in response.

"What do ya say we swap books... and numbers? Thats only if you want to. I just figured since we read them already and it was cool talk--"

"I'd like that." He stopped your rambling, only to send you a warm smile while doing so.

You blushed as the both of you swapped phones to put in each others information along with handing each other your books. With a final wave goodbye you left the library, your best friend of course followed after you. She interrogated you with thousands of questions and the both of you walked to work, you gladly answered them all in an almost dazed state. You felt as if you were walking on air for the rest of the day, and you couldn't wait to text him later on.

-

Two weeks had gone by, and let's just say those two weeks have been the best ones of your life. You and Ponyboy had been texting every single day. At first you just talked about each other's books, but then your conversations started evolve to anything and everything. You knew you had liked him before, but your feelings for him have grown drastically. It was beginning to get unbearable holding in how you truly felt, and you weren't sure if you wanted to tell him.

The fear of rejection was one of the main reasons why you've been thinking of just repressing your feelings. Sure, he seemed to like you, but it felt as though he only liked you simply as a friend. Another reason being you were afraid that it would ruin things between the both of you. You had finally become good friends, the last thing you wanted was for everything to end up being awkward all because of you and your silly crush.

After a lot of thinking you decided you needed some advice, and by advice you mean advice thats not only from Kathy. She keeps telling you to go for it, but she doesn't really know Ponyboy well. That's why you got the idea to ask one of his buddies on their opinion. Luckily Pony invited you to watch him and his friends play football. You ceased the opportunity, not only would you be able to watch the boy of your dreams get all sweaty and tuff looking, you could also get one of his friends alone to talk about how you felt.

It was a warm, Sunday morning in Tulsa. The sun was high in the sky and beat down harshly on the group of boys tackling each other in the giant field. You sat under a tree with a notebook in your lap, a cool breeze would rush by every now and then, cooling you off the slightest. You doodled randomness on the blank pages, sketching pictures and honing your writing skills. Every now and then you would glance up and watch the game for a few, sometimes cheering the boys on or laughing when they began to goof off and wrestle each other on the ground.

There was a particular drawing you found yourself enthralled in, as the pencil in your hand smoothly ran across the paper you found yourself sketching a picture of Ponyboy's face. You were so focused you didn't even notice someone come over and take a seat right beside you.

"Nice drawin' you got there." A quiet voice spoke.

You quickly slammed the notebook closed and snapped you head to the right, it was Ponyboy's best friend, Johnny. A tiny smirk was tugging at his lips as he looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

"T-Thanks." You stuttered nervously.

"You like him, huh?" He asked you.

You stood silent as you played with the grass below you, pulling it from the Earth and rubbing it between your fingers. Your gaze was straight ahead watching the game, you were afraid to meet Johnny's gaze that was burning holes into the side of your head.

"Yes..." You hesitated a bit, "I do."

"Does he know?"

"No!" You said hopelessly, "And I'm not sure if I even want him to know."

"Why not?"

"Because he probably doesn't feel the same..." You trailed off.

"Hey now, ya never know." Johnny said.

"What are you two kiddies doin' over here?" A loud voice bellowed.

It was none other than Two-Bit, he staggered over to the both of you before plopping down to your left. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and trickling down his neck.

"You tryin' to make moves on Pony's girl or somethin', John?" Two asked playfully.

Your heart fluttered, 'Pony's girl.'

"No way, man. Trust me." Johnny chuckled.

"Pony's girl?" You repeated to him questioningly.

"Oh yeah! I see the way y'all look at each other I ain't blind."

You let Two's words sink in, was it that obvious that you liked him? He even said that Pony looks at you a certain way as well. Maybe there was a chance he shared your feelings after all.

"You think he likes me or somethin'?" You asked casually.

"Oh I don't think, I know."

You smiled softly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. In the back of your mind you worried that you were getting your hopes up a little too high, but you couldn't help it.

"I like him too." You admitted.

Two-Bit scoffed, "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Well... what should I do?"

"Tell him." Two replied.

"I agree." Johnny piped up.

Both nerves and excitement began to bubble up inside you as you got up and gathered your things.

"Where are you off to?" Johnny asked as you began to jog away from them.

"Gotta head home. Tell Ponyboy I'm sorry I had to leave but I'll text him later!"

"See ya later lover girl!" Two-Bit hollered after you while preceding to make kissing noises.

You laughed to yourself and shook your head, "Idiot."

-

Y/N: Whats up Pone-bone?

Ponyboy: Nothing much lil lady, and yourself?

Y/N: Same. Btw sorry for leaving so soon today, had some things to do.

Ponyboy: It's alright.

Hey what were you, Johnny and Two talking about? They didn't try to tease you or nothin right?

Y/N: Nooo ofc not they were just chattin

But thats actually what I wanted to talk to you about...

Ponyboy: Well... Go on then

Y/N: Okay I'm just gonna say it

I like you

like a lot

Ponyboy: As a friend or?

Y/N: No silly, like more than friends...

Ponyboy: Wait actually?

Y/N: Yes Pony

Ponyboy: Seriously??

Y/N: OMG YES!!

I LIKE YOU A LOT!

... im sorry if it weirds you out

Ponyboy: NO! NO IT DOESN'T.

SORRY

... Just wanted to make sure this isn't a prank or whatever.

But in all seriousness yes, I like you a whole lot.

Y/N: Are you sure?

Ponyboy: Positive doll

Do you wanna grab some milkshakes at the Dingo next weekend?

Y/N: Are you asking me out onna date Curtis?

Ponyboy: Yes, I am ;)

Y/N: Well I would love to :)

[ssavanessa22]

Hello there! Congrats on 100 followers! 🤗🤗 I'm sorry Tumblr has been weird for you >< I hope your day/night gets better! :)

🌸 - "I love you most ardently" with Aaron Hotchner

Warnings: none I think, black fem! Reader

A/n this is the first part of my mutual Monday appreciation! This is dedicated to @chelseyjoyce her account is amazing and i love it so much it’s a great place to find the best Hotch fics in the fandom! She’s so sweet and incredibly kind and you all should go follow her, because she’s amazing :) And this is also part of my 100 follower blurb celebration!

Word count; 525

“I love you most ardently,” Hotch says, trying to get the words out quickly as his face begins to heat up

“Hotch if you're trying to convince someone that you're in love with them you need to say it with a bit more conviction because you sound like a dying cat”

“Emily you're supposed to be helping me not telling jokes, how am I going to tell Y/n that I'm in love with her.”

His eyes are misty, and his body language is closed off Emily can see his chest is puffy and his face is overcome with anxiety; he’s nervous so incredibly nervous but she’s glad that he is she’s been with Tara for over three years and now she’s sees y/n like her little sister, she loves her so much and she’s seen her get her heart broken by people who didn't deserve her heart. She needs someone like Hotch who will really and truly love her with all his heart, she deserves someone like him.

“You're scared”

“I am”

“Good you should be scared, she’s amazing and wonderful and deserves so much more than the people she’s been with, so be real and honest to her or otherwise she’ll see right through your bullshit”

“God this is too much I-I- don’t know what the say how should I tell her”

“Wait Hotch-”

“No-no I’m done waiting I love her so much it’s unbelievable, I haven’t felt like this since Haley and even then, it wasn’t like this. I just the take her in my arms and hug her and kiss her and make her feel so worthy and loved-”

“Aaron I’m serious shut-”

“NO Emily, I love her ardently, I care about her so much it hurts and what would she want from me anyway I’m a 45-year-old widower with a kid”

“Wow I love her ardently its hurts, Jesus Aaron Emily’s right you do sound like a dying cat”

Aarons face dropped and his eyebrows grew wide” I did that thing that Penelope does when she talks about someone whilst they're right behind me didn't I.”

Emily’s smirk grew wider “Yep”

“y/n I’m-”

“Ughh finally Hotch took you long enough, I could do a whole stipel about how much I love you too but it’s 2 am in the middle of nowhere fuck Kansas and in six hours were supposed to wake up and find a serial arsonist can we just go back to my room you help me put on my headscarf and then go to sleep?”

“You want to kiss and cuddle with me?”

“Yes that's why am telling you come on notch we've moved past the I live you be we can sort that out tomorrow I just wanna sleep”

“R-right ok then I didn't think that was gonna be that easy”

“I’m an easy-going girl”

“But I mean 34 years on this earth and you still find it hard to wrap your headscarf around your head I mean...thats a bit embarrassing”

“Says the man who went to Emily dating advice you can't even tell when she's joking or not, what if she had told you something stupid you would just follow her blindly?”

“Honestly y/n yeah I trust and listen to her too much for someone who pranks everyone on a daily basis

He held her tightly as they began walking to her room right before they went in for the night y/n stopped at the door.

“Wait one second” she popped her head right out of the room and shouted across “Night Emily”

“How on earth did you know she was still going to be listening.”

“I’m a sucker for love Aaron Tara’s made my black heart all mushy and happy, oh and night Y/n.”

Remember reblogs and constrictive critique helps fic writers with their engagement and writing :)

Aaron Hotchner taglist- message to be added

People who said they would be interested in the fics I write- @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @samuel-de-champagne-problems

[lost-in-jessiland]

Jeff From Omegle

You're now chatting with a random stranger. 

You: hey

Stranger: Hi

You: whats up

Stranger: M 19

Stranger: Im fine

Stranger: U ?

You: sweet I'm a woman and I'm 10 years older than you. hows life kid?

Stranger: Eh well im growing up

You: how so?

You: I need life advice

Stranger: Feels like life ahead is gonna be hard

Stranger: From me

Stranger: Okay shoot

Stranger: I will try

You: just like what do you mean by growing up? I feel like i need to grow up

You: but what is growing up lol

Stranger: Im figuring it out lol 😅

Stranger: U tell me

You: okay fine, do you work? lol

Stranger: Nope Student

You: major?

Stranger: Electrical

Stranger: Engineering

You: oh so what do those guys do? lol fix laptops or build rockets?

Stranger: Nah Just build system which keeps flow of electricity

You: like what lol

Stranger: Yupp thats true

Stranger: Its sucks

You: it sounds hard lol

You: i didnt go to college

Stranger: Oh

Stranger: Hey can ask u something

You: yeah always

Stranger: A relationship advice

You: okay hit me

Stranger: Are u married ?

You: no lmao

Stranger: Okay

Stranger: When do i know i found that person

You: when you've seen someone at their worst but still think they are amazing. still think they are beautiful.

You: not like grumpy morning, i mean pressures on, balls to the wall at their worst.

Stranger: Damn Wow thats some very mature stuff there

You: haha well thanks

Stranger: Thanks for enlightening me

Stranger: Lol

You: oh i do my best

You: ill be here all week

You: $.25 enlightenments

You: just need ur social security and moms maiden name and I can enlighten your day!

Stranger: 😂😂😂

Stranger: Ur funny

Stranger: Hey u wanna ask something ?

You: thanks. thats my strong suit

You: and whats that young grasshopper

Stranger: U said before u needed a advice

You: nope I just need advice on life. like omg I am a mess

You: you have no idea little one. stay in school and get a good job. find you a beautiful, loyal hunny and settle down lol

You: parties are bogus

You: lol can you build a time machine?

Stranger: Man feels like u had a hard past

You: absolutely not

You: My life aint tragic, thank you for askin

Stranger: Ohh

You: yeah lmao I a mess is all

Stranger: How so

You: omg lemme tell you what

Stranger: Is it a relationship ?

You: what? no? lol its the wrinkles

You: men don't rule girl world lol

You: if youre a smart girl

Stranger: Ohhhh

You: yeaaaaaaaaa

You: is u a virgin?

Stranger: Ahh

Stranger: Well yup

You: i'm sorry grasshopper, but maybe you do a party

You: get out there and put ur dick in something

You: male female it dont matter just perferrably human

Stranger: Well that's the plan

Stranger: 😂😂

Stranger: Ur funny

You: again thank you

Stranger: When did u lost ur Virginity

You: psshy

You: I was 17

You: blow jobs werent enuf anymore

Stranger: Damn

You: after a year I had to give it up

You: or this slut Robbi was gonna steal him

You: her name is ROBBI thats a boys name who sleeps with a chick named after a dude

You: i bet robbi would sleep with you

Stranger: Hahaha 😂

You: for free too

Stranger: Oh thanks thats a very generous offer there

You: shes like a year younger than i am

You: tho she has had twins

You: but hey find a wall and stick to my friend

Stranger: Where u from

Stranger: Us ?

You: the great united states

You: wby

You: you seem like a canadian

Stranger: Israel

You: omg

You: whyyyy

Stranger: Im original from Europe

You: i thought you were cool

You: ughhh Jeff, can I call you Jeff?....Jeff this sucks

You: why Jeff why?

Stranger: 😂😂

Stranger: Yeah go for it

You: Listen Jefffffff

You: dont hack my computer okay

You: I have lots of sick porn you dont wanna see

You: and some pretty awesome cat pics too

You: my cats are awesome'

You: Jeff you would love them

Stranger: I love cats

You: Captain Kush and New Jack are their names

You: they are the best things ever

Stranger: Wow

You: but if you get close they will claw you

You: cause they only like americans

Stranger: Cats are the most cuttest and adorable animal on this planet

You: they are racist cats

You: :/

Stranger: 😂

Stranger: Yeah is that so

You: oh yess

You: if you wear your head cover, they will make sure to rip it to shreds'

You: they wanna see your forhead

You: they get sus when they cant see ur forehead

Stranger: I can imagine that

You: yeah

Stranger: Lol

You: do you like foreheads

You: jeff do u like forheads

Stranger: Yup

Stranger: Its a kink or something lol

You: foreheads are your kink

You: jeff are you lying to me

You: jeff dont lie to me

You: we have a history jeff

You: listen jeff

Stranger: Sup

You: dont lie about kinks

You: those are serious stuff

Stranger: Whats ur ?

You: huh?

Stranger: Im kidding

Stranger: U don't have to answer

You: you didnt ask me anything Jeff

You: Try google translate that shit is legit

Stranger: Ok

You: whats ur ? Jefffffah

You: ?????????????

Stranger: Hmmm

Stranger: Idk

You: whatever Jeff

You: You can Call me other Jeff

You: okay

You: Jeff?

Stranger: Hey other jeff

You: thats my kink

Stranger: Wtf 😂

Stranger: Wow

You: what is other Jeff wearing

You: ;)

Stranger: U asking me ?

You: yeah what am I (other Jeff) wearing when you picture other Jeff?

Stranger: Wait a min

Stranger: Its confusing

You: okay anyting for Jeff

Stranger: Im jeff

Stranger: Lets call u Larry

You: yes and I am other Jeff

You: no

You: thats not sexy

You: I AM OTHER JEFF

Stranger: Okay fine

Stranger: Haha

You: ;)

You: yessss

You: that makes other Jeff happy

You: and horny

You: happy horny other Jeff

Stranger: U horny ?

You: other Jeff is so horny for Jeff

You: thinking about sweating forheads while Jeff thinks of what to say next makes me wanna wipe it off with my hand and make Jeff lick it off of other Jeff's hand.

You: then you can lick the sweat off of other Jeff's forehead

Stranger: Man that's Gross

You: you

You: said

Stranger: Really

You: forheads

You: were your

You: kink

Stranger: Nah

You: other Jeff was trying to be sexy for Jeff

You: the fuck

Stranger: Thast gross 😂

You: DON'T make me GET THE SLUT PADDLE

Stranger: Okay

You: so lick the forehead sweat Jeff

You: or other Jeff will spank you

Stranger: That sounds gross

You: okay fine what syour real kink then

You: JEFF

You: dont lie this time

You: fucker

You: other Jeff can be real sexy

Stranger: Hey can i ask u something?

You: anything Jeff

You: u know that

Stranger: Hey can i ask u something ?

You: omg yes

Stranger: Its kinda sexual

You: yes Jeff

You: JEFF

You: YES GIVE ME THAT QUESTION YES

You: JEFFFF

Stranger: How does a pussy taste like

Stranger: The fluid

You: BAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA

You: hahahaha

You: AHAHHAHAHHAHAH

You: hahahhahahhahahah

You: hahahhahah

You: og

You: DEAR LORD JESUS HELP JEFF

help him see the light

Stranger: Yeah pls

You: you are the worst man I have ever met

Stranger: My pleasure

You: bow to God and beg that he forgives you JEff

You: Jeff

Stranger: Will do

You: may I ask a question?

Stranger: Shoot

You: what do you think pussy juice tastes like Jeff?

Stranger: I dk

You: guess stupid

Stranger: Sweet sour ish ?

You: okay then it tastes sweet sourish Jeff, Hope you like those Sour Patch Kids 

cuz thats what ur in for Jeff

You: you honestly got boring so fast Jefff like ugh . why? you suck at being a towel head.

You: islamijeff

You: orwhereeveryousaidurfrom

Stranger: Im not

You: likeugh

You: ihateyoujeff

You: istgihateyou

You: omg

Stranger: Bye then

You: i love you

You: dont leave me

Stranger: Me too

You: you love me JEFF

You: wil you move to america and be with me JEff

Stranger: Nah im bored . Thanks for talking .

You: go to the airport and say my name is Jeff

other Jeff has paid my ticket to Merica.

Stranger: Bye byee

You: b

Stranger has disconnected.

[iwach4n]

i said I'd do it and now it is simp time because punk yamaguchi is the only thing on my mind rn. general hcs for now but perhaps i will do a boyfie hcs for him as well

also yes this is sorta badly written and obnoxiously long its mainly just me rambling all my ideas

punk third year hcs

his confidence has grown drastically since the beginning of first year, especially when it comes to volleyball. but the end of second year and the holidays before third year starts are when he really starts to come out of his shell and experiment with his style

his hair comes first. he doesn't have time to get a haircut for a while, and so he ends up tying it back as a temporary thing. except its no longer temporary because he really likes it

he only does it for volleyball and when he's studying at first, just to get his hair out of his face. sometimes when he goes out on errands.

but he leaves it up after morning practice once, and suddenly he's getting Looks. he would have missed all the blushing stares of the girls (and probably a few guys) if tsukishima hadn't pointed it out to him

his face has become a bit more defined and masculine recently coz puberty, and although he still has pretty soft features, tying his hair up shows off a sharp jawline

he's a bit awkward about all the attention he's getting at first! like he really doesn't know what to do with it. but he slowly manages to take it in his stride (tho he'll still get blushy if anyone outright compliments him on it)

buying a leather jacket on impulse is really the turning point for him. he loves the more confident vibe it gives him, which in turn makes him even more confident

he buys more clothes like that to match it, and by the time third year starts he's decked out with a whole new wardrobe

when the new first years start on the first saturday practice, they're already a little nervous because karasuno has a pretty intimidating rep.

but when they see this guy with long hair, a leather jacket, big boots and ripped jeans unlocking the club room? shaking

that is, until he notices them and starts talking

he literally just smiles and they know they're fine. just immediate 'cool older brother' vibes

he's absolutely great as a captain, he helps out all the new kids and keeps tsukishima and kageyama from being too mean or intimidating

one day, yachi asks if she can paint his nails. he agrees and loves it and now he constantly has his nails painted. they're black more often than not but sometimes he switches it up with random colours. because of the volleyball they're always chipped but it just adds to the whole vibe

tanaka invites noya and all the third years (like the year below them you know what i mean) over to his house to catch up. when yamaguchi shows up he does a visible double take, but before you know it he's giving him an undercut and noya's dying his hair black

he's now a lot more scary at games. not only is his style more evident even without the clothes, he's also spent years watching his teammates intimidate their opponents and he's picked up a thing or two

while hinata, tsukishima and a handful of the younger ones are actively insulting the other teams, yamaguchi can't really make himself do that and knows that as captain he should reign them in

"leave them alone guys, we don't have time for this"

but his confident stare and tiny smirk sends shivers down their spines too

the minute they get round the corner, everyone's clapping him on the back and cheering about how he 'totally made them piss their pants', while he just laughs awkwardly

the first time he does something like that, he genuinely feels bad about it and almost apologises. but sooner or later he just finds it kind of funny

at some point, tsukishima finds some rings that akiteru used to wear (akiteru had a low-key eboy phase in my mind but thats another story) and gives them to yamaguchi. its like a gateway drug to jewelry for him honestly

rings? yes. chains? you bet. bracelets? fuck yeah.

soon enough, he's got a couple of piercings too. he starts off with a few in his ears, but then he gets a lip ring and eyebrow piercing too and he looks sO GOOD

he's pretty much got fangirls at this point. and one thing they love is how he looks really punk and hot but whenever they talk to him he's super sweet and awkward

he forgets to take his lip ring out before a game once and they l o s e t h e i r m i n d s

audible groans from the stadium when ukai reminds him at a time out

(honestly me too i can't stop thinking about how hot he'd look with a lip ring)

(i've been trying so hard to keep it together and not just yell about him this whole time but it's so hard. i'm breaking down man. i've got a crush on punk yams send help)

ukai is also his go-to for advice on piercings, and the man lives for it. he's watched this kid grow from a nervous smol babie to a confident punk child and he's more than happy to take him under his wing and share what he knows

if there's one group of people he knows he'll never be nice to if he ever saw them again it's his old bullies. he’s moved past them but looking back he gets kinda mad

well, one day he’s walking out of saturday practice with tsukishima and sees an awfully familiar group of guys walking down the road, talking about the school, and about “doesn’t that really weak freckly kid from elementary go here?”

well, speak of the devil

remember how they were intimidated by tsukki before? oh how the turntables.

i wouldn’t say tsukishima has a ‘soft boy’ style, but he opts for slightly preppy clothes like button up shirts, knitted sweaters, that kind of thing. and he usually wears lighter colours (beige, light blue, a muted yellow, ygm)

meanwhile, yamaguchi is here with all his black clothes and piercings and newfound confidence, and the way he’s looking at them is honestly a bit terrifying

“t-tadashi?” “who the fuck let you call me that?”

tsukishima is genuinely impressed. probably the first time he’s heard him swear not out of frustration

its a bit of a staring contest until one of the new first years runs up and calls him captain and asks him if they’re getting meatbuns (he totally carries on daichi’s tradition of treating the team to them prove me wrong). he’s back into nice senpai mode when he says he’s buying, but the bullies now know he’s also the captain and it just increases the air of authority he’s got right now

they keep staring each other for another minute or so, and tsukki’s getting concerned because god knows what this kid’s gonna do

but he suddenly just starts walking past them, no fucks given

“come on tsukki. these assholes aren’t worth our time.”

those bullies are left having an existential crisis in the street because that was mildly terrifying and also the last years treated him well damn (puberty hit him like a freakin BUS)

I WAS GONNA END IT THERE BUT I NEED TO TALK ABOUT TATTOOS

while he’s still in high school, he can’t get any tattoos done professionally, but he definitely messes around giving himself stick-and-pokes

they’re all quite small and simple - little stars and smiley faces on his ankles and arms

would probably let the team try their hand at it on him. as a result he has some deformed splodges, something that is just barely recognisable as a volleyball and a couple freckles on his legs joined up like a dot-to-dot (he asked yachi to do a crow on his bicep because she’s the best at drawing but she was too nervous about messing it up)

he’ll also try giving the team some if they want to (though not first years coz to him they’re literal babies). hinata tried to get the third years to have matching ones but tsukishima didn’t want to be associated with them like that and yachi was a bit scared to so they didn’t end up doing it

when he’s old enough, he gets a few proper tattoos, but they’re all quite small and simple. he probably seriously considered getting a big design on his neck (kind of like this) but he ultimately decided against it

in conclusion yamaguchi is punk in third year and my heart is going absolutely crazy over him

(jesus christ this turned out long)

[schiavonaspada]

Melody (S.W.A.L.K) 1971 Livewatch

I have seen this movie. but not the whole thing (i got interupped the first time i watched it)... so here goes! 

movie load please

20 seconds of logos???

guitar song™

this movie is so nostalgic for no reason

Mark Lester and Jack Wild: did you mean, Oliver Twist and The Artful Dodger?

and tracy hyde shes here too

i love this movie sm wtf

can these credits end????

ok yes they can

70s film marching band scene

ornshaw drinking whiskey before band bc why not

danny is bby

mY mOtHeR dId It SiR

dannys mum is so annoying wtf

i really love tom ornshaw

run bitch run

The BB™

SET FIRE TO THE NEWSPAPER???

look at his lil face ❤

MELODY MY DAUGHTER

a gowdfish please

aww look at her 

“ive done all those things i wanna try something new” LIKE DRAWING TIDDIES? DANIEL

“ah a boy gave it to me at school” was it ornshaw, i bet it was ornshaw

BITCH YOU RIPPED DANNYS TITS DRAWING

melody girl you cant play that fucking recorder

this film has great cinematography wtf

Melody Perkins Deserves The World !!

the gang go to school

Ornshaw Gets Bullied

“the jewish boys may now leave for private study” what about the jewish girls?? there’s clearly girls in the class?? why do they have to listen to the bible

ornshaw’s porn bible

DOES ANYBODY KNOW WHO JESUS WAS???

dont smoke at school kids

okay so shes peggy, why is she credited as maureen. who the fuck is maureen

hear me out, muriel is a lesbian. noone kisses for over five minutes unless youre proper horny and this bitch is like thirteen. she also says “i dont know, i never used to kiss boys”, because SHE DOESNT. shes lying because she doesnt kiss boys. shes closeted and thats whys she says she does. also, she got angry at peggy for saying she fancied a boy.

W I C

“saucy turtles make terrible bathmats, charley” okay okay jeez

ornshaws accent is everything

The Gang sneaking through the fence what will they do

uh oh danny

AWH YOURE BARMY

thats def gonna explode later

ornshaw gets kicked off the bus

but now hes on it

ornshaw and danny have such a wholesome friendship too bad melody ruins it oh wait

you’ve heared of ornshaw gets kicked off the bus now get ready for... ornshaw gets kicked out of the strip club!

you cant get a taxi!!! watch me hoe

where did ornshaw get the chewing gum from wtf

“shes always talking about people like you...” OH OKAY DANNYS MUM IS CLASSIST

“he could do with a heart attack!” WOAH OKAY

time skip to school

oh no danny’s seen melody

“we have three admirers of the dance!” ah shit

ah so maureen is the girl in green

why is ornshaw just standing there

FREE YOURSELVES

the girl gang is hilarious i love them

Muriel Kisses A Tombstone

uh oh dannys been found out

“HES A COWARD CMON”

ornshaw just yeeted his cat

i hate dannys mother sm

assembly time, an iconic part of british comprehensive school, since covid, i cant say i miss it

danny and melody !!

DANNY PLAYS CELLO THIS IS IMPORTANT INFO

melody and her friend are there because plot

melody sweetie baby i love you but you cant play the recorder

THEYRE PLAYING IN HARMONY DKDJSKDJSJKK 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

this is cute as fuck

melody is babey

oh explosives time??

i just dubbed these kids ornshaw and the pyrotechnics crew and it fits

dannys parents are annoying

i quite literally hate them

DANNY SPILT HIS COKE ITS SUCH A SIN

“neviw”

melody girl are you okay

melody are you lying about getting raped

oh time skip to school

we’ve hardly seen ornshaws home life so when will we properly meet him??

god i fucking love ornshaw its mad

oh this is an iconic scene if there ever was one

“go on tom dance with her” oh the ONE TIME ornshaw is called by his first name

youre mad !!

“girls are a load of snotty nose little so and sos” ornshaw aro king

is ornshaw.. scared of women

whatddya mean i dont dance very well!?

is it bad i lowkey crackship peggy and ornshaw now

YOU DANCE STUPID!

no one:

ornshaw: kicks peggy in the shin because he cant dance

“you big fat fool” yikes

danny u ok

ALL ORNSHAW AND HIS MATES DO IS CREATE EXPLOSIVES DJDKJSKt

oh it worked for once

i feel so fucking sorry for melody wtf

bb 🥺

im at the bit where melody is crying while putting on her mothers makeup 

SWEETIE ITS OKAY 

OH TIME SKIP TO SPORTS DAY! 

this film is so fast were already an hour in!

ornshaw giving actually solid life advice?? are you sure this is the same movie

“you youre gonna be bloody useless!”

i literally love ornshaw so much 

FUCK DANNYS MUM

GO ON DANNY 

YES MY BOY

time skip to school 3982903843290

wtf is a young latin scholars book

lahtimah

not ass latimer, arse

i hate the latin teacher

ornshaw every second: right uh erm um uh so yes sir oh uh mhm

*ornshaw and danny shoving pillows up their underwear*

“dont worry about it!!” dude hes getting spanked by the latin teacher ofc hes gonna worry about it

ornshaw and latimah

“vacate your mouth”

“because its a silly out of date language sir!!!” hes not wrong

uh oh 

what will slapping ornshaw’s ass with a dap even gonna do???

oh hi melody forgot about you

AWH DANNY SWEETHEART

“cmon danny dont let her see you cry!” i want a friend like ornshaw man

melody is just STANDING THERE LIKE GIRL LEAVE

“you can buzz off now love, tara, tooduhloo” have i said i love ornshaw? because i love ornshaw

danny dont abandon ornshaw !!

oh this is sad

danny? danny?? danny!!!??? DANNY!!?? 🥺🥺🥺

ORNSHAW RIGHTS MAN

ive felt sorry for literally all three of these kids now

ah fuck now ornshaws having a mental breakdown in the school halls

danny and melody’s relationship is so innocent and wholesome 

this is literally so bittersweet, like we’re seeing danny and melody being all cute and happy but we know that back in school ornshaw is literally having a breakdown over them

im tearing up over a movie about schoolchildren in puppy love

“will you love me that long?” “of course! ive loved you a whole week already!”

“hes come to tea! his name is daniel!” melody hes not your pet

melodys dad seems so cool why was he arrested

donald????

i genuinely love melody’s dad 

melody dramatically eats toast

time skip to school AGAIN

OH GOD I’M ACTUALLY CRYING

melody and danny are out on a date having fun and its the same song playing as the scene earlier on when danny and ornshaw went off somewhere at the start of the movie, melody has quite literally replaced ornshaw

i have real tears rn 

they skipped school to go to weymouth

danny and melody are literally adorable man

“shall we get married?” arent yall like 12????

oh back to school they got in trouble for skipping

apparently the poor cast got spanked for real and like yikes

we want to get married :D

ITS NOT MENT TO BE FUNNY!!

leave danny alone!

leave melody alone!

ornshaw please stop

ornshaw stop taunting him this is gonna end shittily

OH SHIT 

THEYRE STRAIGHT UP FIGHTING 

ORNSHAW AND DANNY ARE MF WRESTLING EACHOTHER TO THE GROUND

okay now ornshaw is literally beating him up okay

danny this is your fault for ditching him for melody sorry

top ten best anime fight scenes

latin man is back because plot

DID ORNSHAW GIVE HIM A BLOODY NOSE

i’m sorry danny 😭😭

ORNSHAW. DESERVES. THE. FUCKING. WORLD. AND. MORE.

let melody and danny get married!

wait so if 20 is twice as old as her then shes.. ten?? i think

melody ily

“all i want to do is be happy” BABY

OH FUCK YOU MRS LATIMER

oooh

THEYRE GOING TO GET MARRIED BY THE RAILWAY 

ornshaws unnamed friend is the true hero of this movie

is this the movie climax???

run! ornshaws unnamed friend! run!

IM SORRY THE’RE LITERALLLY GETTING MARRIED I’M 😭

“we are gathered here today to join this man and woman in holy matrimony.. shaddup”

ITS NOT FUNNY ITS SERIOUS

IS ORNSHAW STRAIGHT UP MARRYING THESE TWO IS HE THEIR VICAR

HE IS AS WELL

“DICKS IS COMING!!!” as soon as they were getting the rings

RUN !!!!

ornshaw just threw the bible at his re teacher from the re scene at the start i love him

DANNYS MUM HAD IT COMING

name a more iconic trio than melody perkins, danny latimer, and tom ornshaw, i’ll wait

GO PEGGY!

ORNSHAWS UNNAMED FRIEND IS GONNA FINALLY GET HIS BOMB WORKING!

YES

GO ORNSHAWS UNNAMED FRIEND

“i’ll get you ornshaw!” dude how is this his fault its yours for unterupting the wedding latin man

again ouf is the true movie hero

wait latin man is dicks??? whos wannabe remus lupin then????

this just in: ouf is actually named stacey

oh god thats actually such a bittersweet ending

melody and danny trolleying off into the sunset

im actually crying like a baby rn

god that was such a good movie

[cilliankelly]

text 📱 cillian & ellie.

Discord text thread featuring: cillian & @robinscnfm

When: december 25th

Mentions: @judetaylorhq @loganstjames @iitsace 

Description: ellie texts cillian to wish him merry xmas. they discuss their relationships and ellie encourages cillian to try and be better, but for himself, not for anyone else.

Trigger Warnings: insecurities galoooore but i think that’s it. 

ellie.

merry christmas dumbass 🤩 hope u had a good time and that your leg is better ❤️ you’re awesome buddy

Cillian

thanks els bells

i know i don’t always act like i do, but i really do appreciate you and shit. thanks for everything and merry christmas

also i’m sorry about your couch

ellie.

i know you do ❤️ no problem. I really did take you in just to do you a solid, buddy

no problem 😂

i might not even need to get one. Yknow, logan asked me to move in and if i do, probably the less furniture the better. U know i have enough shit as it is lmao

Cillian

👀

does this mean you’re seriously considering it?

moving in with the boyfriend?

ellie.

honestly? I kind of am

i have until mid january to think about it

and i like his apartment, plus our schedules don’t always line up because he has a day job and i have a morning job and a night job, which makes hanging out impossible sometimes

Cillian

these all seem like very sensible conclusions

ellie.

They are. I mean. Its kind of scary im ngl

Cillian

definitely scary. but good i think.

ellie.

im not used to living with anyone which definitely freaks me out

and u know i love my crappy ass apartment

but.... its also exciting idk

Cillian

no i totally get it.

i mean it’s a little different for me bc until recently i didn’t really feel like i ever had a home

but it’s nice. it’s big and it’s kind of scary but it’s also really great.

ellie.

ohhhh wait wait 👀

are u moving in w .. someone?

its such a nice apartment too im ngl

and he doesnt let me pay for anything which wasnt an issue when we were 18 but now it makes me feel ✨very guilty✨

Cillian

fuck tell me about it

and i mean... yeah. he gave me a key for christmas

ellie

omg im so happy for you!!!!

thats so so awesome

fuckin scary too but im excited for u

Cillian

thanks. i desperately trying to not fuck it up anymore than i already have. but i feel good about it.

ellie.

he wants to marry me

Cillian

holy shit

i know you guys dated in high school but you’ve been together how long?

ellie.

a fuckin MOOD but hes lucky to have u. Yall are a good match

Cillian

wow thanks. that’s actually like, good to hear.

i kind of feel like i magically won the best friend/boyfriend lottery or something

ellie.

this time around? About a month. Overall? Like almost three years

but no. What he said was that he still had the ring he’d bought back then

and that he wanted to give it to me whenever i was ready to be asked

it fuckin scares me how much he loves me idk what i did to deserve it

U SAID BOYFRIEND

Cillian

sounds like we really are in the same boat

wait what

ellie.

im so happy

yeah we are. Idk ive never been with anyone who loved me so... up front and decisively

Cillian

it’s fucking terrifying

ellie.

it is

Cillian

like i’m really happy???? but i look at him and my chest gets all tight and all i can think about is how much it’s gonna suck to lose him.

also i’m a bit buzzed on wine right now and this conversation is staying RIGHT HERE eleanor.

i have a rep to maintain

ellie.

THATS LOVEEEEE CILLIANNN

and idk im conflicted. He told me he wanted to pick it up where we left off and i told him i wanted to take it slow, and he agreed

and i do want to take it slow....... but oof falling back to the place where we used to be before It happened has been so easy its fuckin scary

Cillian

and oh my god shut uuuuuuuuuuup

i can’t even imagine.

ace is back in town and that’s been... weird

ellie.

IM NOT GONNAAAA U LOOOVE UR BF

my resolve to go slow with him is getting weaker and weaker i am such a mess

i know. I think i saw her the other day. Hows everything on that front?

Cillian

i don’t know. fine? a little awkward. i don’t have feelings for her still but like. i see her and it reminds me how shitty i was. and still am.

ellie.

and dont worry. Yes people leave but not the ones that really love you.... and i have a feeling u found it

Cillian

i think it’s really bumming him out that like... nobody knows we’re... together.

ellie.

yeah why is that?

Cillian

i don’t know...

telling people makes it like... real.

and jude thinks that by not telling people it makes it easier for me to take it all back and regress or whatever

but i just... ellie i’m like positive that i’m gonna fuck this up. and i don’t know if i want to share it. with anyone really.  not when it’s this good.

i don’t know if that makes any sense

ellie.

but its important to him

Cillian

he says it’s fine but i know it’s not.

ellie.

and listen

theres a strong possibility you WILL fuck it up and theres also a strong possibility that you will NOT fuck it up. No one knows.

and theres a possibility that he’ll fuck it up

or maybe something else will come in between you two and pull you apart

no one fucking knows ok dude

Cillian

jesus ellie, not making this any easier over here

ellie.

and you’re wasting the sweetest part of a relationship by thinking about the end

so like. The most u can do is stop thinking so far ahead, stop getting in your own way, and every day make the conscious decision to show him you love him and to not to fuck it up. Thats all any of us can do

Cillian

i don’t deserve him, i really don’t.

i’ve never felt so useless in my entire life.

ellie.

youre not useless

but i get you, i really do

Cillian

i can’t even fucking walk correctly. i can’t work. i can’t do anything

and i don’t know that i’ve ever like, really wanted to be better. but fuck. he deserves more than this.

ellie.

no no dont think like that

if you want to do anything about becoming more educated or some shit like that you have to do it for YOU because YOU deserve better

Cillian

it was hard enough the first time around. i’m just not cut out for it.

ellie.

i just think you havent found the right motivation

Cillian

and what’s that? the right motivation?

ellie.

idk how to describe it

like when i was in college i would think about graduating and being independent and it got me through boring classes and shit like that

so yeah. maybe what you need is motivation

Cillian

i know this is dumb. and it’s gonna get me an eye roll or something. but it’s just so much easier... to not.

ellie.

no its not dumb

but like. sometimes the things that are worth it arent the easy ones

Cillian

i just don’t want to fail again.

ellie.

bad news, youre gonna

Cillian

you’re all sunshine and rainbows this evening

ellie.

im tipsyyy

and also giving it to u straight

ur gonna fail bc failing is just. part of the human experience

but !! ur also gonna succeed my dude

Cillian

i guess you don’t know if you don’t try.

ellie.

also idk i think ur fear is valid and it happens to me too

so i just think itd be bullshit to tell u like <3 ur not gonna fail <3 everything will work out <3

Cillian

yeah. i wouldn’t believe you if you said that anyways.

ellie.

yeah exactly so like

the best thing i can say is that when you think that youre gonna fail just. try to think the opposite

Cillian

easier said than done

but i appreciate the advice

ellie.

yeah i know it is

no problem buddy <3 anytime

[pumakaji64]

fuck im gonna watch the film theory on Ratatouille even though it’ll make me mad

 part 1.

preface: It’ll probably look like im taking this way more seriously then I actually am ( I mean I love the movie so on some level yes I am ) but I tend to come across way more aggressive then I mean too in my writing oops. Like I don’t mind people having different takes on a piece of media, you can respect and authors intent while still having your own thoughts about a work even if they don’t line up because sometimes what a creator tries to convey and what they really do aren’t exactly the same. But if you’re gonna have such a wild take you better be able to back it up with some real good evidence. Overall tho I’m mostly just doing this cuz im bored lol ( also I haven’t seen the movie in awhile so my memory is a little foggy )

So going in I already know what the argument is gonna be “ good guy bad, bad guy good” whatever, so I’m just gonna comment on the argument and presentation itself as I watch the video

Ah I see we’re going with the good ol’ “ not technically lying but intentionally omitting and/or wording things in a manner that benefits my argument “ technique, I’ve used that before.

Nitpick: As someone on twitter brought up: Protagonist doesn’t mean “good guy” it’s the leading character that the story if focused on, so even if Remy is a bad guy he’s still the protagonist.

I get it’s probably a joke but Remy’s whole deal isn’t that he wants to be famous. He just genuinely loves cooking but can’t do with without fear of being murdered since he’s y’know a rat.

He doesn’t willingly leave his colony, he’s separated from them after he blew their cover by getting caught while cooking and for prioritizing taking the cookbook over escaping.

I’ll just say it now since i’m sure it’ll be brought up later, yeah Remy is kind of selfish, and thats actually a good thing. Him being a flawed character makes him more interesting and this also swiftly sets up his character arc early into the film.

“ If this sounds like an inspirational story about overcoming obstacles and achieving your destiny... you missed the point.” bruh the arc words of the film are literally “Anyone can cook”, it’s about overcoming prejudice to achieve your dreams in spite of everyone telling you not to because of the identity you are born with ( this is not just seen with Remy but also Colette, a female chef )

“Narcissist” As I said before yes Remy is selfish and at times this makes him unlikable but he genuinely cares about his family but he struggles to connect with them since they can’t understand why he’s so passionate about cooking.

Calling it now, the crux of this argument is going to be the scene where Remy gets mad about Linguini taking all the credit for Remy’s work during an interview. Which yeah I’ll agree that Remy was being unrealistic but Linguini had been ignoring Remy’s advice and had grown a bit of an ego which of course eventually leading to Remy having a heated gamer moment and doing abusing Linguini’s trust which the story punishes him for. It’s not a simple right or wrong situation but more of a two wrongs don’t make a right type.

“Jerk of a creature” Newsflash! Not all protagonists are nice, even the ones that aren’t villain protagonists!

First point: Remy is a thief and a hypocrite. I’ll admit I was agreeing that Remy is a hypocrite until he gets to the point of Remy letting his family steal from the kitchen. 1.) This was when him and Linguini were starting to have a falling out, he was angry at him and starting letting that affect his judgement. Was this wrong of him? Yes and he regrets his actions. 2.) Remy cares for his family even if they don’t always get along and his anger at Linguini makes it easier for them to pressure him into letting them steal.

“Remy never learns his lesson” maybe not explicitly but he does face punishment throughout the story. Stealing the book and food from the old lady costs his family their home and gets him separated from them. Allowing his family to steal from the kitchen leads to Linguini calling off their partnership. I don’t remember him stealing again after that.

Also is he implying that Remy is bad for stealing the will that proves that Linguini is the rightful heir to the Gustaeu that Skinner was trying to hide so he could keep profiting off of a dead mans work?

Remy is aware that what he’s doing is wrong, we are shown this through the figment of Gustaeu which represents his conscience reprimanding it but Remy continues to justify himself until it’s too late. He is a flawed character.

“In a realistic context.” Good thing this is a Disney kids film

Fraud!? You’re gonna grill Remy for fraud when Skinner is the one intentionally keeping Linguini from learning about his birth right?!?!?

“Poor Linguini. The sap that Remy controls like a puppet.” here we go again with the manipulative wording hooray

I see where he’s going with this one and it’s really funny to me that’s interpreting Gustaeu’s “Anyone can cook” line the same way Ego does for most of the film. Ego takes the opposite stance MatPat does by mocking the line because to the critic not everyone has what it takes to be a great chef. It’s by the end of the film he changes his perspective on the line to the idea that a great cook can come from anywhere even in the most unexpected of forms like Remy.

Gotta love the clip he added of pre-character development Remy being a jerk to Linguini before to two even met. It really ads to the manipulative wording he uses to make Remy look underhanded and shifty.

Is he really gonna gloss over Remy attempting and failing to teach Linguini how to cook? Remy is a fucking rat who can’t talk directly to Linguini attempting so teaching him would be really damn hard. Not only that but they are on a time crunch and don’t have the time necessary to teach Linguini how to cook like Remy can.

Also whose to say that by watching what Remy is making him do Linguini hasn’t picked up any cooking techniques by the end of the film.

It’s not like Remy freaking forced Linguini into being his man-puppet. Remy is a small animal who can’t talk to people so honestly Linguini has most of the power in their dynamic. Linguini can call of their partnership anytime he wants and even does so after Remy is caught letting his family steal. 

“And whats it for? Just so Remy can cook! Just for his own benefit!” BRUH, DID HE NOT SEE THE PART WHERE SKINNER THREATENS LINGUINI’S JOB IF HE CAN’T RECREATE THE SOUP!??!? (Also skinner only wants to keep Linguini around if he can make money off of him )

God damn he really is taking advantage over the fact that most of his viewers either have never seen the film or only watched it when they were young to straight up ignore elements of the fucking plot lmao

“Who hasn’t forced un-consenting adults to kiss “ I can’t believe MatPat is trying to #cancel Remy for being #problematic, #remyisoverparty. The stretch is real my dudes.

LMAO HE LITERALLY MAKES A CANCELLE ON TWITTER JOKE BRUH FUCK OFF

Jesus I feel most of what I have to say will just be me restating what I already said. Ugh lemme just summarize it: Remy is a flawed and selfish rat who often prioritizes following his dreams over his responsibilities putting not just himself but his family at risk. But guess what? He faces consequences for that! His actions get him separated from his family and lost in a giant city, the only reason he doesn’t die is because he got lucky and found Linguini ( also because it’s a film and it ending at the start would be lame )

Also so is he arguing that Remy should just accept his lot in life and give up on his dreams because he can’t change the fact that he’s a rat ( which MatPat often reminds us by calling him unhygienic a lot so far ) as if that’s not the crux of his character dilemma.

I agree it’s wrong of him to put his family at risk but that only applies to the opening of the movie. How is he the only one in the wrong later in the film when both him and Linguini acknowledge to risk of their teamwork?

Here we go with the disease thing again. This is anti-rodent propaganda and I will not stand for it! >:(

Also bruh it’s a fucking kids movie.

??? how the fuck would Remy be aware of rats carrying diseases??? does he work for the fucking CDC????????

“Remy is bad because he kidnaps the pest inspector” Because it would get the restraunt shut down if word got out about the rats!!! And the only reason there are so many rats in the kitchen during this part is because the staff except for Colette all walked out!!!!!!!!! Which, guess what MatPat, wouldn’t just fuck over Remy but Linguini too!

“Oh sure they wash themselves but only after they walked into the kitchen!!!!” and I thought I was bad with nitpicking!

No need to bring up that The Jungle is a fictional story, nope! I guess it’s only fitting to use a fictional book as evidence for an argument covering the logistics of a fictional movie!!!!!!

Remy didn’t fucking “quit” his “job” as a rat poison sniffer, he still does it but he also cooks in secret. When he’s caught he’s separated from his colony ( which MatPat still hasn’t brought up ) so of fucking course he can’t keep sniffing for a clan when he is literally not there!!!!

Also if he’s talking about later in the film when Remy refuses to rejoin the colony when he reunites with Emile then we get the moral dilemma of Remy rejoining his family while fucking over Linguini who can’t cook because Remy is a small rodent and can’t adequately teach him do to a language barrier.

lmao this dramatic emotional music he’s playing bruh

He really is taking the kiss thing that seriously

“I’m not saying Remy shouldn’t follow his dreams” Thats literally what you are saying

“Chef Skinner does nothing wrong” Okay you law-loving bootlicker lol

I’m not ready for the second half of this so im gonna take a break and make a part 2 later