#permeates throughout the entire game

[djsangos]

//also i love that salmon run, in universe, is unquestionably a terrible job and highly unethical from like. every single standpoint. in terms of employee safety and also what the employees are DOING

but all these inkfish still flock to grizzco anyway because mr. grizz makes it a game in which he rewards us with fun little gacha capsules and fresh new drip and prizes and we all just eat it up and go into salmonid territory to lay waste to them all and steal their eggs with no questions

[drunk-on-dk]

wow my first time here for hard hours…

headempty just brothersbff!dokyeom coming over to u (and ur brothers) house for da first time to tutor ur brother cuz he’s a lil braindrad,, still unknowning of the houses’ layout,, dokyeom walks into you fingering urself and observes how ur fingers r way too short to do anything rly pleasurable n helps u like the good friend he is :(( I WANNA WRITE AB THIS SO BAD BUT WRITERS BLOCK IS SO CRAY!!!

lee..... you're kidding me.... please come here for hard hours whenever because this made my brain turn in ways that I cannot explain..... ok so I thought this would be a drabble, but I spiraled below and I HOPE YOU ENJOY (also i've been struggling with writer's block so this totally helped get my creative thoughts running again thx u)

Prompt/Pairing: Brother's Best Friend!Seokmin x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT just pure filth (minors DNI)

w/c: ~2.5k (not a DRABBLE oops)

content warnings and prompt under the cut

c/w: no pronouns, but fem bodied reader; masturbation; use of a vibrator; walking in on reader, but consent is KEY when continuing; DK has long fingers AKA pro at fingering in this

Lee Seokmin, kindly referred to as DK, a nickname coined by your idiotic brother years ago when he had first met the overly kind boy back in grade school. DK was an all-rounder, which was known very well throughout your years trailing your brother and him in school. Of course, DK was popular for his looks, overall bright attitude, humorous side, and intelligence.

The boy was an enigma throughout his entire high school career, so you had no choice but to crush on your brother’s best friend. You couldn’t help it when he’d flash you his signature smile every time he’d pick you and your brother up for school, or when he'd gift you the occasional snack on exam mornings – which, of course, would go untouched in your backpack since you cherished the sacred gift so much.

However, you were able to see him at his worst over the years, especially the clumsier and louder sides of him when he’d spend the night over at your house almost every weekend. His boisterous voice would permeate through closed doors - even when he was a few rooms away - while your brother and he would play video games until the crack of dawn. Another oddity included that time he had mistaken your toothbrush as his own for weeks on end, only admitting his fault weeks later when he had run into you in the hallway late one night, almost as if he was fearful that you’d confront him even though you had no clue.

Eventually, you grew annoyed with the boy as you got older, your high school crush no longer blinding you to the fact that he was just another one of your brother’s loud, teasing friends, even if he was damn cute. Regardless, Dokyeom still took care of you like you were his own friend, as you were close in age to your brother, and he always considered you as part of the group. He was always sure to include you in plans even if your brother didn’t, making sure you had a comfortable high school experience, and continuing to gift you snacks on exam days – even if you didn’t blush profusely like you used to.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you had followed in your brother’s footsteps and decided to attend the same college as him, which ironically enough, DK had chosen the same college as well. The duo was still thriving more than ever even when they had found other friends in their separate majors. DK was also still roped into tutoring your brother in his classes, even though he had passed them semesters ago himself.

You had just moved in with your brother after your first year, and you two had decided to save some money and just commit to sharing an apartment a mile off campus. It was easy living with him, especially because you two had similar friend groups and could comfortably coexist. You also enjoyed the privacy it gave you, as your brother spent most of his time at his frat house even though he had his own place, typically crashing on one of his brothers’ futons every weekend.

You took advantage of this, blasting music when you’d get ready for your own nights out, or spending nights like tonight shamelessly binging a show or whatever book you were reading, eventually getting bored and pleasuring yourself in the serenity of your quiet apartment.

It was still early in the night, but, good God, you had been strung out all week. Midterms were finally coming to an end, and all you could think about was a little R&R, possibly channeling that energy through a quick orgasm.

However, it was anything but quick tonight. You had been squirming around for maybe half an hour now, a slight sheen to your flushed skin, and a vibrator pressed firmly against your clit after you decided your fingers wouldn’t suffice.

Your sheets were surely a mess at this point from how tightly you were gripping them from desperately chasing the high that your body wouldn’t grant you. Just when you thought you were close, a pathetic half-moan would leave your lips every time the building pleasure would ebb away.

You were frustrated, but you were determined. Pulling out all the tricks now, your spare hand and fingers played with your perked nipples, unable to restrain your body from arching into the bed to further press your throbbing clit against the devilish, vibrating toy.

The only thing that broke you out of your wanton fervor was a single knock at your bedroom door – which the knock was appreciated, giving you just enough time to scramble to cover yourself with a throw blanket, but whoever the intruder was waited for just a pause before throwing your door open – coming eye to eye with none other than the boisterous DK.

“Ready to study and then whoop some ass on -" DK stopped mid-sentence, jaw slack as his backpack fell to his side upon realizing this was not your brother's room. To be fair, DK had only been here once or twice since you and your brother moved apartments recently; your previous one had a roof-leak, and this place was temporary until the latter would be renovated by the end of the semester.

Surely, you both looked like deer in headlights staring at each other. DK surveyed you for a second, saucer-like eyes tracing you from head to toe, drinking in the way your chest rose and fell underneath the tiny, fluffy throw blanket that gave you some sense of decency. You could almost see the lightbulb go off in DK’s head when he realized what he had walked into, the not-so-quiet whirring of the vibrator in the background only confirming his suspicions.

“Oh my god,” he starts, internally cursing himself when his jeans begin to tighten ever so slightly around his crotch. It’s almost as if he forgot how to walk or speak, but he can’t deny that this is a fantasy he’s had one too many times. “Were you-?”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, already immensely embarrassed that he walked in on you so hot-and-bothered. It was almost comical how the vibrating sound came to a halt, awkwardly searching for the button on the toy beneath the sheet and finally successfully turning the device off. “We can just act like this never happened, my brother isn’t here since I’m assuming that’s who you were looking for, and we can just go about our night without discussing further.”

Woefully, you could almost get off to the sight of just him, maybe you’d tuck the memory of him into your arsenal to finally finish yourself off later tonight. You weren’t sure if it was the arousal that was clouding your mind from touching yourself for so long, but you swore you’d never seen his kind eyes look so dark and carnal. And fuck, he looked good as per usual, boyishly handsome in denim jeans, and a white tee hugging his biceps perfectly.

You felt even more flustered when he just continued to stare at you, not making any effort to lift the backpack at his feet, nor to exit your room when you look at him expectantly. With a groan, you run a hand over your beet-red face, about to question if he is going to leave until he speaks before you do.

“Are you just going to return to what you were doing?” His voice is strained, deeper in tone than his typically chirpy sound.

You stare back at him dumbly, readjusting the blanket around your body so you can sit comfortably on the side of your bed. “M-Maybe, why does it matter to you? Like I said, we can just forget about this.”

He does the opposite of what you’d expect, rather than leaving your room he takes a step towards you. The heat burns in your belly even more, your body reacting and tingling each step he takes closer towards you.

“How long have you been alone in here?” It’s so out of character how hazy and stormy his eyes become, how husky his voice sounds, and how you feel your increasing heartbeat at your core when you realize just how big and tall he is.

“U-um,” you squeak out, shriveling in his presence, unsure of where all his confidence came from as he continues to eye you down. Maybe it’s the nerves, but you begin to spill out details of the frustrating night you’ve had thus far. “It’s been a long week DK - I just needed to unwind. My damn fingers won’t get the job done, so I’m using this stupid toy. This is pathetic and embarrassing, and why are you getting so close to me?”

“Can you show me?” He asks almost innocently, voice soft and tempting as he kneels in front of where you’re sitting on the bed. He repeats himself when you fail to stutter out a response. “Can you show me how you were using your fingers?”

You feel like you’re in a trance, heart, and body reacting before your sensible mind can stop you. This is a bad idea, you should just say no and kick him out, but the way his eyes remained locked on yours as you slowly nod is enough to encourage you to drop the blanket wrapped around you. Screw it, even as much as you'd like to say your crush on him faded, it never really did.

He lets out a strained sigh when you reveal your body to him, the only thing covering you is the flimsy tank top that’s bunched at your waist, only indicating further how desperate you had been.

“Are you OK with showing me?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp out, gradually opening your legs for him to see your most intimate self, evidence of an impending orgasm clear from the sight of your swollen clit and wet thighs from your dripping slit. The whimper that escapes his lips makes your eyes roll back, fingers absentmindedly tracing over your folds and making you whimper with him.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he’s whispers as he intently watches the pad of your thumb rub at your clit, “Such small hands and little fingers, no wonder you’ve been touching yourself for so long.”

You buck your hips upwards when you finally let your pointer and middle fingers glide in between your folds, carefully pumping the two in and out of yourself and biting back a moan when DK leans even closer towards your core.

“It’s not enough,” your voice is breathy as you pout, grinding your hips into the palm of your hand as your fingers do a not-so-satisfactory job. You’re falling back now, wrapped up in your arousal once again as your head hits the pillowy mattress beneath you.

“Of course, it’s not,” DK coos, standing up to tower above where you now lay, one knee finding real estate between your legs as you so urgently keen into your hand. “You can fit another finger inside of you, maybe that will help.”

You listen to him, fitting a third finger inside of you, yet they don’t reach deep enough to provide you enough pleasure.

“Oh,” he almost sounds patronizing, “they’re too short, aren’t they?”

You’d almost think he was messing with you if it wasn’t for the way his breathing picked up when you let out a desperate cry, a rough groan bubbling from his chest when your thighs tightened around his own leg slotted between yours.

“Yeah, t-they are,” you cry out, trying your hardest to not shift down the bed and start grinding against his leg.

“Can I help?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask. P-Please.”

Just like that, DK’s deft fingers are at your core, long digits running between your folds to collect your slick before teasingly probing at your center.

“I said please,” you moan out, practically begging as your hips chase his hand when he continues to pump just the tips of his fingers tauntingly and shallowly inside of you.

He almost growls when his fingers fill you completely, the way your walls sucked him in was enough to have him wanting more. In order to get closer to you, DK collapses next to you, one thigh still slotted between your legs and his free arm propping him up above where your heated chest rises with each needy breath.

“You take my fingers so well, sweetheart,” he whines out, unable to stop himself from pressing his lips against your neck especially when your body is arching against his with each pump of his fingers inside you. “Can’t believe you're still this tight after playing with yourself for so long.”

Your own hands are desperately gripping his arms, nails digging into the firm muscles as he trails hot kisses across your neck and chest. Your body shakes in need when he hits a spot deep inside of you, pressing against that spongey spot that has your thighs tensing up with each expert curl of his long fingers.

You know you’re babbling at this point, something about how good he’s making you feel, something about how hot he is, something about how you’ll need his fingers all the time now.

This only eggs DK on, his supporting arm shaking as he sets a brutal pace, fingers pumping in and out and each ministration feeling delicious against your walls. You let out a scream when his thumb encounters your clit, making him press even closer against you to hold your needy hips down as he fingers you so perfectly.

You’ve been encapsulated by him at this point, everything about him is big and tall and long, and your mind goes a bit haywire wondering if that applied to really everything, the obvious bulge contained by his jeans only making your mind wander to dirtier places.

“Is this enough, sweetheart?” His lips are pressed into your neck, teeth nipping gently at the shell of your ear as he desires to hear some more praise and feedback from you.

“God,” you moan out, thighs shaking as his thumb rolls in circles over your clit, chest pressing against his as he smiles against your ear. This isn’t enough – actually – you want all of him. But yet it is, the world around you begins to spin as you feel your impending release finally bursting inside of you. “Fuck, this is more than enough. God, I’m g-gonna finish.”

“Finish, sweetheart, use my fingers.”

You’ve never come so hard from just fingers, not even with past lovers, but DK’s long fingers have your walls spasming and tightening around them, hips finally falling still as you gush around the digits. You feel euphoric, your release washing over your body as you come to.

You thought maybe your post-orgasm clarity would snap you back into reality, reminding you that you just had the best fingering of your life from your brother’s best friend, making the situation awkward and panicking upon realization, but you do exactly the opposite.

“Do you need help now, DK?”

[morning-star-joy]

can the killer in me tame the fire in you?

a stranger's heart without a home chapter 10

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: Joel and Tommy set out on a rescue mission to bring you back home. In your moment of need, Joel comforts you and takes care of your injuries.

Chapter Warnings (Buckle Up): 18+ Explicit Descriptions of Canon-Typical Violence, Classic Miller Interrogation method from the games/show (Explicit Descriptions of Torture, please don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable), Descriptions of Torture against Reader, Heavier mentions of Loss/Grief (mentions of death of Reader's younger sister) and Depression/PTSD/Survivor's Guilt, Injury Treatment (knife wound), Language

Wordcount: 12.8k

chapter 1 || chapter 9 || chapter 10 || masterlist

ao3 link

Joel hadn’t felt like this for months. He hadn’t been so on edge, so ready to head into battle since returning to Jackson. Life in the settlement had been easy so far, peaceful even. He had almost let himself begin to believe that things could be as close to an old sense of normal as they could be in this sickened world.

But nothing good could last. Part of him had known this deep down the whole time, and he couldn’t help but think that he was proven right during the entire ride that he, Tommy and Jesse had made at a breakneck pace to the neighborhood where the teenager’s patrol had gone so wrong.

The dead body of a bandit rolled over as Joel nudged it with his foot. He glanced over the bullet wound in their head that had killed them; long range, expertly placed. One of her shots.

Tommy sighed heavily as he descended the staircase of the house they were sweeping, shaking his head when Joel looked up at him.

“Anybody still alive is long gone,” he informed with no small amount of exasperation, his hands raising and flexing before he lowered them, and Joel knew Tommy was resisting the automatic reflex to run them through his hair in worry. 

His younger brother was desperately trying to hold himself together even now, even with the debilitating fear for his friend’s life that just kept building.

“She took out quite a few,” Joel muttered, glancing over the other bodies that littered just the first floor of the house they were in, the one Jesse had led them to and told them it’s where they were confronted.

“She was covering me,” the boy spoke up from where he loitered by the door, his voice shaky as he clutched to the makeshift bandage Tommy had wrapped around the spot where a bullet had grazed his shoulder. “She told me to run. I…I should have stayed. I should have—”

“You did the right thing, kid,” Tommy interrupted, even as anxiety permeated from his bones with every movement he made throughout the rooms, looking over the bodies as if they would give some hint as to where they had taken her. “If you didn’t get out of here, you’d both be gone. We might have—”

He cut himself off, his hand coming up to cover his face as a deep breath was sucked in through his mouth.

“She’s fine,” Tommy muttered, dropping his hand as he shook his head sharply, but Joel got the distinct feeling that his brother wasn’t talking to anybody but himself now. “She’s fine. She wouldn’t go down like this.”

“We didn’t find her,” Joel spoke up, bringing Tommy’s scattered attention back to him. “That’s a good sign.”

Tommy inhaled sharply again, nodding his head once at the encouragement, even with the words that Joel left unsaid.

We didn’t find her body. The underlying meaning of the sentiment spoke volumes; it meant that it was possible she was still alive, and Joel steeled his nerves as he followed his brother towards the exit.

“What should we do—”

“Get down,” Joel cut off Jesse's question with a hiss as he grabbed the teen, pulling him back to hide against a half-wall as another, unfamiliar voice echoed through an open window from down the street.

“Jesus, how many guys can one bitch take out?” the voice said, and Joel stiffened as he slowly reached towards a broken table leg on the ground near him, the wooden edge sharp from where it had splintered off of the furniture.

Tommy quickly ducked behind a couch on the opposite side of the room, out of sight of the main door as Joel caught his eye, the two men communicating silently as another voice replied to the first, “No idea, man, but I gotta admit I feel less confident about keeping her tied up now.”

“What’s there to worry about?” The first voice scoffed as they got closer, and Joel shifted silently on his feet in anticipation of them following the bodies that she left in her wake into the house. “You said it yourself: she’s tied up. She can't do shit on our watch.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” came the mumbled response as the front door creaked open, and Joel’s breathing slowed as he entered a detached combat mode, listening for their footsteps as they neared his hiding place. “Still, she couldn't have been alone, right? I feel like it’s a bad idea to—”

The pair walked right past where Joel was hunched down, and that was his cue.

He leapt out, sweeping the table leg against the back of one of the hunter’s knees to send them flying to the ground. Joel raised the table leg in a swift movement as they fell, not missing a beat as he brought the makeshift weapon down hard enough that the bone in their leg shattered, causing the wood in his hands to break into two from how hard he hit them.

In the same instant, a gunshot rang out, the other hunter screaming in pain as blood spurted from their knee from Tommy’s well-placed shot, and they collapsed to the ground next to the one Joel had taken down.

Breathing heavily, Joel tossed the leftover piece of the makeshift weapon in his hands to the side. He reached down to grab the hunter by the collar of their jacket, pulling them along the ground behind him to one of the dining chairs.

“Find some tape,” Joel ordered gruffly over his shoulder, the words directed towards a startled Jesse, who jumped at the command before starting to search the house.

Tommy grabbed the other hunter, leaving a trail of blood that soaked the floor as he dragged them along after Joel. The Miller brothers fell into a practiced routine then, even if it was a strategy that they hadn’t done together in years.

Joel had done it recently enough, after all, and there was no small amount of anger fueling the malice that burned hot in his veins as he shoved the hunter at his mercy into a chair.

When Jesse returned shortly, a roll of duct tape in his hands, Tommy grabbed it from him, securing the hunter he had shot to a chair before tossing the tape to Joel so he could do the same. Once it was done, the men roughly rotated the chairs so the hunters were facing away from each other, and Joel began to stare down the one that he had ended up with as Tommy spoke in low, menacing tones to the other one.

The hunter was whimpering, trying to reach down to their broken leg, and Joel’s lip curled back in disgusted anger as he glared down at them. Who they were didn’t matter—not when they had been talking about her like that. Joel knew what they were responsible for, and he had run out of mercy a long time ago.

A loud slam echoed throughout the kitchen as Tommy threw the chair with his hunter in it to the ground. Joel looked up to see his brother crouch down to grab their hand and shove their fingers against their own bullet wound. The hunter screamed before Tommy dropped their hand, but not out of pity.

He gestured towards the hardwood floor, his voice devoid of all his trademark warmth; now it was only cold, with a deadly intent if he didn’t get an answer he was satisfied with.

“Write it,” he snarled, tapping the hardwood once before straightening.

The hunter’s breath quickened before they maneuvered their hand awkwardly with the tape binding their wrist to the armrest, writing something on the ground with the blood from their own wound that Tommy had made sure to drench their hand in.

When it was written, Joel leaned closer, glancing over the words that specified the location they were looking for. He glanced back at Tommy, nodding once before he made his way back to the hunter under his control.

“Now, I don’t have a lot of time,” Joel drawled almost casually, his voice low like he was having an intimate conversation with the hunter. But his smooth accent barely covered up the icy tone he spoke in, his gaze empty as he crouched down in front of the hunter he was interrogating. “And I don’t have a lot of patience. So you’re gonna tell me where you’re keeping the woman, and maybe I'll let you walk again.”

Joel's gaze moved to their other leg with sadistic intent, and he watched as the hunter began to hyperventilate, their eyes that were glazed over from pain flickering around the room as they began to realize the situation they were in.

“What, I’m supposed to believe you’ll actually let me go?” they said, laughing almost hysterically as they struggled against the tape. “You’re just gonna kill me, even if I tell you. And for what? Some stupid fucking bitch—”

Their head snapped back as Joel's fist hit them square in the face so hard that their chair fell over, and they hit the ground with a loud thud. The hunter groaned in pain, blood streaming through their broken nose as Joel stood slowly, his breathing coming in faster from white-hot anger as he grabbed the back of the chair to roughly pull them back up.

"You're right," he murmured, a slow, dangerous smirk growing over his face, before glancing back at Tommy to gesture toward his brother’s knife. "I am gonna kill you for that."

Tommy laid the blade on the ground, sliding it over to Joel, who stopped it with his foot when it got close enough.

“In fact, I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do now,” Joel started, turning the knife over in his hands before jabbing the blade into the hunter’s side.

They gasped before letting out a scream at the pain, trying to inch away from it as Joel leaned in closer to their face.

“You tell me where she is, and I’ll make it quick. If not—”

He pulled the blade out an inch, letting them finish another scream before he added quietly, “I’ll make every breath more painful than the last until you got none left.”

It only took another moment of hesitation, when Joel pulled out the blade just a fraction more to result in more excruciating pain, for them to confess. When they did, Joel glanced down at the location written in blood on the ground, seeing that the facts matched.

“Lucky for you, your buddy caught the memo,” Tommy said in mock cheerfulness as he pulled his handgun from its holster.

At the sound of the safety clicking off, the hunter Joel was interrogating began to panic, “Wait, no no no, you said you’d let me walk. You said—”

“I said I’d make it quick,” Joel said coldly as he yanked the knife out of their side, sinking it into the side their throat in the same breath that Tommy shot the other hunter in the head.

Silence descended upon the room as Joel stood, pulling the knife out and wiping the blade off on his jeans before he walked over to pass it back to Tommy.

“Jesus,” Jesse breathed from where he stood back, glancing between the Millers, and Joel could almost see the teenager’s mind processing just who he was looking at, maybe for the first time. 

Joel knew that Tommy was charming and welcoming around Jackson, stepping into an easy leadership position with his boundless charisma. He doubted any of the residents knew of the cold calculation Tommy’s inviting presence hid well. 

And while Joel was the polar opposite to his younger brother, never particularly warm or a shining beacon of friendly conversation, to see him flanking Tommy, hands stained with the blood of a man he had just tortured, and a formidable intent to kill every last bastard who had gotten their—Tommy’s girl, Joel realized that Jesse was seeing how dangerous they truly were for the first time.

Tommy holstered his weapons before his voice took on the tone he used when delegating orders, “It’s a house out in the forest, not far south from here. Joel and I will check it out, slow and careful. We don’t wanna tip them off that we’re around. And when we find them…”

Tommy glanced back at Joel, a rare hint of malice burning in his eyes that Joel recognized as his own; a part of himself that he couldn’t control passing on to his younger brother through their methods of survival in the first years following the Outbreak.

At the sight of it, Joel nodded seriously, his face set in grim determination as he swung his rifle down into his grasp. Neither of them needed to speak as they communicated the same sentiment silently:

Not a single one of them makes it out alive.

“What about me?”

Joel glanced back at Jesse’s anxiously eager question, which Tommy answered with a shake of his head as he walked towards the teenager.

“I need you to hunker down here. You—”

“What? No,” Jesse interrupted, shaking his head as he looked between the brothers. “I’m not sitting back. I can help.”

“You’re injured,” Tommy said firmly, his hand coming to rest firmly on Jesse’s uninjured shoulder as emphasis to the words.

“Hardly,” Jesse frowned, shrugging the shoulder with his injury as if to draw attention to it, showing that he could still move it. “It was just a graze. I can—”

“Kid,” Joel interrupted in a low tone now, his entire presence radiating a deadly gravity, and Jesse fell quiet as he met the stoic man’s eyes. “You’d only slow us down.”

Jesse looked between the brothers again, before looking down at the bodies they had just left with no hint of remorse, and he deflated as he realized there was truly nothing he could do.

“Okay,” Jesse said quietly with a nod, even as Joel could see how much staying back, how much being helpless hurt him. “Just…”

Jesse sighed, looking down at his feet for a moment before looking back up, his gaze solemn as he finished speaking with conviction, “Just bring her back.”

Joel’s grip tightened on his rifle as Tommy gave a grim nod, his brother clapping the teen on the shoulder once before turning to exit the house. 

Following close behind, the two brothers fell silent as they cut through the backyard, out of the neighborhood and into the trees. They moved slowly even as Joel’s blood pulsed to the fast beat of his heart that urged him to go faster, faster, to find her and leave no motherfucking survivors.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Joel was unsettled by how ready he was to storm into battle for her. Even as his muscles were tensed with the anticipation to kill every last bastard who may have laid a hand on her, he couldn’t help but remember her words clearly:

You’re not supposed to care.

She was right. He wasn’t supposed to care.

So why did he?

It wasn’t a question he could answer now, even if he wanted to try and figure it out, so Joel continued to walk in silence, holding his rifle tight as he tried to control his anxious rage that urged him to go in guns blazing.

Tommy was as disquieted as Joel, if not more so, but the more steps they took towards their destination, the more both brothers began to calm. They fell into a practiced silence; the quiet before the storm, readying themselves mentally and physically for the arduous task ahead.

When the house appeared through the treeline ahead, both men hunched down, approaching carefully to get a clear sightline while staying hidden as deep in the trees as they could. 

At first glance, it almost appeared abandoned, until a shadow passed by one of the windows on the second floor. Tommy shifted around the tree he was hiding behind to get a closer look at the same time Joel leaned forward, both men watching intently for more signs of life.

Then the back door swung open.

An armed man walked out, followed by another as a voice echoed towards them from inside the house.

“Stay in the trees if you’re gonna smoke, I hate the smell of that shit,” the voice barked before the door slammed behind them, and one of the hunters sighed as he pulled a couple of cigarettes from his pocket.

Joel exchanged a look with Tommy, and at the grave nod of confirmation, both men shifted. Staying hidden deeper within the trees, they looped around to where the hunters were heading further away from the house and into the forest, out of sight.

Their mistake, and their downfall.

Approaching stealthily, Joel and Tommy crept closer to the smoking pair, sneaking from tree to tree as the oblivious conversation from the hunters continued.

“How much longer do we have to stick around here for?” one of the men asked as the other sighed a puff of smoke out of his mouth.

“Until the boss is satisfied with the information he gets,” he replied as he tapped his cigarette, a couple ashes falling to the ground as Tommy sent Joel a look as they neared. Joel shook his head, silently telling Tommy to hold off for now, wanting to get more information on what was happening before they went in.

“Is he even getting anything?” the first one groaned, leaning his back against a tree a couple feet ahead of Joel. It was a perfect set up to take the hunter down quietly, but Joel stayed back a moment longer, even as his blood ran cold at the next words that left the man’s mouth, “That bitch hasn’t made a peep since we got her. Besides, that settlement looked fucking huge. We can’t take that, even with inside info.”

Joel’s hands clenched into fists at the mention of her, his vision turning red at the response that made it impossible for him to hold himself back any longer.

“Eh, even if we get nothing out of it, at least we take her down. I heard from another one of the guys that she was involved in taking our men out a couple months ago.” The man turned with a smirk that made Joel so blind with rage that he burst forward from his hiding place even as the man continued, “So getting to hear that bitch scream when the boss broke her wrist was satisfying as—”

The sentence was never finished as Joel was behind him in an instant, one arm going around his throat to pull him back as he grabbed the hunter’s jaw with the other. Somewhere behind him, Tommy cursed before muffling the start of a shout from the other hunter with a hand over his mouth and a knife shoved into his throat.

Joel ignored the struggling of the man powerless in the strength of his grip, reveling in the fear that he could feel exuding from the bastard before Joel found the right position and leverage, his hands twisting quickly to efficiently snap his neck.

The body fell lifelessly to the ground at his feet, and Joel glanced at Tommy as his brother wiped his knife and sheathed it again.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy muttered as he looked down at the body, the distorted angle of the broken neck, and back up at Joel. “A little warning next time.”

Joel didn’t respond, his mind on a one-track mission as he turned, creeping closer to hunch behind a tree with a clear sightline to the back door. Tommy followed, hunkering down near him as they glanced between the windows of the house, trying to gauge how many hunters were left.

It was nearly impossible to tell their numbers, with most of the windows in the back of the house covered by boards or curtains. While it left the Miller brothers at a disadvantage, it also meant that nobody inside could see their approach. Tommy nodded at Joel, and the two men darted towards the house, flanking each side of the back door, pulling out their sidearms to take this closer-range fight.

Even though the hunters had an advantage in numbers, Joel and Tommy didn’t need to overcompensate with more bodies; anybody else fighting alongside them would only get in the way. The brothers held the element of surprise, and they only needed each other to make the last moments of these bastards’ lives hell.

Tommy shifted, pulling his knife back out when they heard footsteps approaching the back door. Joel subconsciously held his breath, flattening himself against the wall as the hunter who had shouted at the smoking pair earlier stuck his head back out, brow furrowed as he called out their names when Tommy’s dagger came right for their throat.

The blade glinted with blood that the raider choked on as Tommy pulled the knife back out with a sickening sound, stepping into the house as he switched the melee weapon for his handgun. Joel followed, sidearm lifted at the ready, ignoring the weak efforts the dying hunter made to grab his feet as he passed. 

Together, the Millers moved swiftly through the house, their bullets finding their surprised targets with ease. Despite the numbers they faced, the hunters didn’t stand a fucking chance against the vengeance that fueled both men. They ended one life with detached, ruthless precision before moving on to the next, no ounce of mercy in their veins as they embarked on a mission with one task only:

Bring her home.

Breathing came with difficulty, your vision swimming as you hunched back against the wall. The sounds of the hunters’ conversation seemed far away, and you curled your body around itself as well as you could to protect yourself without seeming too broken down.

It had been a while since you had been on either side of torture, and you focused on keeping your breaths even as you kept that shred of yourself that remained, your dignity and sanity, locked carefully away in the back of your mind. One of your hands hung limply in the rope that still bound you to the pipe on the wall, pain radiating from your broken wrist as you took this break from the punches to collect yourself as best as you could before the next wave of torture came.

When the hunter who had spoken to you when you had first woken up—the leader of the group, from what you had gathered—walked towards you again, you glared up at them in defiance.

“You’re not gonna last much longer, girl,” they said as they crouched down in front of you, and you laughed, your own blood glinting on your teeth as you bared them in an angry grin up towards them.

“I could say the same to you,” you bit back, your voice hoarse from the effort you had made holding in the screams that threatened to escape your throat during the torture. They raised an eyebrow at your unwavering determination that remained even after the pain they had been inflicting upon you.

You tried to gauge how much time had passed now, but it was impossible to tell other than how the ache in your muscles had gotten progressively worse. But it was a sign that this had been going on long enough for it to be over for them soon.

Right as you realized that their time was about to be up, you heard a gunshot ring out from somewhere below you, as if on cue. A tired laugh left your dry, cracked lips as your smirk grew at the startled look on the leader’s face.

“Fucking idiot,” you spat the words up at them, watching with satisfaction as they winced from the blood that flew from your lips to land on their face. “Should’ve killed me and left while you had the chance.”

More gunshots rang out from below, shouts of men followed by the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground, and your smile was only broken when a sharp burst of pain radiated through your thigh.

You sucked in a harsh breath, your eyes flashing down to where the leader had stabbed you with your own knife. Looking up, you returned their deadly glare vehemently, even as you were unable to hold back a shout as they pulled the blade from your flesh.

“Let’s see how long you last,” they said bitterly, dropping the knife before standing and spinning to walk towards the only door to the room. They pulled their pistol from its holster, lifting the gun as they nodded towards one of the two guards in the room to open the door.

Though it was cruel, and spoke volumes about your humanity, you swear you could have laughed when the hunter leader took only a step forward before their head snapped back with a spurt of blood as a bullet flew through it. 

You watched their body fall back, hitting the ground as the guards flanked either side of the door, voices loud with panic as you looked down the hallway. Whoever had taken the shot had disappeared in an instant, ducking into one of the rooms lining the hall as you tried to ignore the blood rushing from the knife wound left in your thigh.

When there was no sound except for further gunfire downstairs, one of the guards next to the door shifted, sharing hesitant glances with the other guard before moving out into the hallway. They crept down it carefully, hands shaking on their gun before they steadied their grip.

Didn’t do them much good as they whipped around, unable to get a shot off as a large body flew at them from inside the room across from them, shoving them against the wall before delivering a bullet straight into their stomach. Another shot was taken right for their head as they slid to the ground, before the man who had killed them turned towards the last guard that was trying to find aim on your rescuer.

He ducked as a shot rang out, the bullet going wide over his hunched form as he sprinted forward. The guard fell heavily to the ground with the tackle to their torso, the thud of their body hitting the floor echoed by the punches to their face. 

One, two, three times the man pinning the hunter to the ground delivered his fist into their face before you lost count. He rose to his feet after a moment, kicking the gun from the cowering guard’s grasp before moving towards you.

Your vision swam, the face of your savior blurry from the combination of lingering pain from the torture, and the loss of blood from the stab wound in your leg. You subconsciously pulled at the bindings on your hand as he moved closer, even as the pain shooting through your broken wrist made you wince. Blinking a few times as he kneeled, your sight finally started to clear as he picked up your knife to begin cutting through the rope that kept you tied down.

For a moment, you only saw dark eyes, the strong lines of a face, and you thought it was Tommy. But when he leaned closer, pulling the cut rope from your sore wrists, you saw the gray in the hair, the familiar crease of his brow, and you released a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“Joel,” you whispered hoarsely on the exhale, your body slumping forward as he gently held your bruised wrists in his steady grip.

And for once, you saw his face soften.

It was a small shift in expressions, hardly noticeable, but you still saw the way that Joel’s gaze wavered as it flickered over your face, as if he was assessing the damage inflicted upon you, both physical and mental.

In his presence once more, you began to relax almost subconsciously, no ounce of protest in your body as he tugged you to him, arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling. He carefully pulled you to your feet, gingerly taking your wrist that wasn’t broken to pull your arm across his shoulders. You didn’t protest as you leaned heavily against him, using him for support as he guided you out of the room. 

Joel didn’t even pause next to the hunter he had beaten up that was slowly crawling to their gun, nor did he look down as his gun echoed with a bang, leaving another body on the ground as you passed.

The gunfire had ceased downstairs, and you struggled down the steps, only making it because Joel held onto you tightly, making sure you didn’t trip as he guided you forward. When you saw Tommy approaching, making his way through a floor littered with bodies, you couldn’t help but smile weakly at the pure look of relief that broke out over your friend’s face.

“It’s all good,” you murmured as Tommy’s hands found your face, tilting it so he could get a better look at the damage. One of your eyes hurt more than the other, and you realized that it was swelling—probably part of the reason why your vision was still blurry. “I knew you would come, so I kept them distracted.”

Tommy huffed out a shaky laugh, shaking his head in disbelief as he patted your cheek fondly.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he muttered, turning to lead the way towards where you presumed the exit was. You limped along, leaning more and more on Joel as you stumbled out of the suffocating air of the stuffy house into the fresh summer breeze outside.

And when the clean air washed over you, you sucked in a deep breath as you finally allowed yourself to relax.

It was over. 

They had come for you. 

You were safe.

The last thought echoed in your mind as you sank into Joel’s side, unable to resist the feeling of protection he offered as he kept you standing. His grip on you tightened in response, and that thought kept repeating itself, over and over: safe. He was here. You were safe.

Tommy turned to say something to you as you continued to sink into that feeling of safety, his mouth opening at the same time a loud bang echoed through the air. 

Your blood ran cold, frozen in horror as you were helpless to do anything but watch it happen.

Blood spewed from Tommy’s arm as a bullet shot through it, and a scream finally tore from your throat at the sight. Tommy stumbled forward, grasping at the wound as Joel’s free hand lifted, swiftly delivering a few returning gunshots to the hunter that had been unaccounted for as they emerged from the treeline. 

Tommy exhaled heavily, grabbing his arm as blood rushed from the wound, and you tried to run the short distance to him even as Joel clutched you to his side, his tight grip on you not wavering as he scanned the trees for any more stragglers.

Only when there was no more movement did Joel turn to his brother, his eyes wide with concern that Tommy brushed aside with a shake of his head.

“I’m fine,” Tommy grunted, turning away as he began to walk towards the trees. “Clean shot. Just need to bandage it up quickly and head back to Jackson.”

“Tommy—”

“I’m fine,” Tommy quickly cut you off, his voice showing he was taking no arguments as he quickly marched through the trees back towards the neighborhood where you had been ambushed, even as blood continued to drip through his fingertips. “I’m more concerned about how hurt you are. We gotta get you back.”

You frowned, not liking how he brushed aside his own wound in concern for you, but you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to upset him further. You knew that he would be taking your capture hard, probably even going so far as to blame himself for it, but now was not the time to argue.

When you entered the neighborhood, and somebody burst through one of the doors from the line of houses, you nearly shouted from fear that Tommy would get hurt again before you recognized the face, even twisted in concern as it was.

“Are you—”

“Go get the horses,” Tommy waved off whatever question Jesse had, wincing as he quickly clutched his gunshot wound again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding, and panic began to make adrenaline course through your veins again, even as you currently couldn’t stand on your own without Joel’s help, who had not loosened his grip on you from where he had you pulled against his side.

Jesse wasn’t gone for long, returning shortly with a couple of the horses as Tommy began to sway in place. For the first time since getting you out of that house, Joel spoke up, his words an order to Jesse as he moved with you towards one of the horses.

“Bandage Tommy’s wound, and ride with him to make sure he doesn’t fall,” he said shortly, and Tommy managed a glare towards his brother even as he was helpless to resist as Jesse wrapped his wound tightly with gauze the teen pulled out of his backpack, before guiding the injured man towards one of the horses.

“I’m fine—”

“You’re not,” Joel interrupted, his voice taking on a tone of command that only an older sibling could have. 

Tommy paused at the sound of it, heaving a sigh as he finally let Jesse help him onto the horse at the same time that Joel turned to you. His touch was gentle but firm as he helped you onto your own horse, making sure you were in the saddle securely before swiftly mounting behind you. His arms circled around you, grabbing the reins to spur the horse forward, keeping you pressed back against his chest so you didn't fall while you rode.

There was still a way to go before you returned to Jackson, but Joel set a pace so fast that the trees around you were nothing but a blur. You marveled at how he could even keep to the trail, sparing a glance behind you to see Jesse keeping pace with you from where he sat behind Tommy, whose face had gone pale with blood loss from the gunshot.

You turned back around, eyes watering as you tried to not think about the worse because, god fucking dammit, if anything happened to Tommy—especially because of you—you didn’t think you could ever forgive yourself.

In the height of your adrenaline, you forgot all about your own wound, blood seeping through your jeans as the dark fabric obscured the fact that you had been stabbed. Even if you could feel the pain right now, you wouldn’t care. Tommy was more important.

When the gates of Jackson finally appeared in the distance, you let out a heavy sigh of relief, nearly slumping out of the saddle with it if Joel hadn’t grabbed you and pulled you further against his chest. You were helpless to the warm protection he offered, sinking back into him as your eyes began to droop. The gates were opening as the guards saw you passing through the clearing, the men and women shouting towards the inside of the settlement for assistance, and you knew you had made it. You knew Tommy would be safe.

Your eyes only opened again once you passed through the gate, watching as a group of your fellow patrolmen rushed forward to help Tommy down, as the man had an obvious injury that was in need of immediate care. Glad for the lack of attention, you turned towards Joel as he slid off the horse before carefully pulling you off the saddle after him.

He began to reach a hand out towards the group leaving with Tommy, his mouth opening to call attention towards you as well as your friend was taken towards the direction you knew Jackson’s clinic was in, but you shook your head as you watched Tommy’s back get further away.

“Tommy needs the help,” you mutter, eyes drooping as you tried to deny Joel’s assistance even as you began to fall forward.

He quickly caught you, his grip strong as he tried to hold you up, even as you couldn’t remain standing any longer. You slumped into Joel’s side as he grabbed at you, saying something you couldn’t hear, and you watched his mouth move as his concerned gaze flew over you, searching for the cause of your quickly fading consciousness.

Then his hand came away from where it had landed on your leg, his palm slick with your blood, and his eyes widened. Joel glanced back towards the horse behind you, and you turned, finally seeing the trail of blood your wound had left on the saddle where you had slid off of it before you swayed again.

Joel grabbed you tightly, pulling you against him as he shouted. You felt his voice rumble in his chest from where your head was pressed against it more than you heard whatever he was yelling, and your eyes were falling shut as you felt his hand press to your cheek, leaving your own blood as a stain on your skin as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

For a moment, you saw his face.

For just one moment, you saw the look of trepidation in Joel’s eyes as his mouth moved, saying something to you that you couldn’t hear through the blood rushing in your head.

And right before unconsciousness finally swept you away, you could only think one thing:

He wasn’t supposed to care.

When you awoke next, it was with pain. You winced even with your eyes still closed, slowly returning to the land of the living as your entire body seemed to hurt. But that dull, throbbing ache throughout your muscles paled in comparison to the sharp pain that shot through your leg as you tried to shift.

You forced your eyes open, blinking at the artificial light that flooded the room as you stirred. A stiff pillow was beneath your head, and you turned to try and gain some bearings of your surroundings, nearly jolting from the bed you were in when you saw that you weren’t alone.

But that short burst of shock quickly faded as you relaxed back into your bed, a tired smile flickering onto your face as you saw Tommy in the bed beside you, his arm heavily bandaged up as he returned your exhausted smile with one of his own.

“The doc was worried that if one of us woke up alone without seeing the other, we might tear the place apart,” he said softly, a wider smile tilting up his lips at your hoarse laughter.

“Yeah, well,” you started, wincing at how dry your throat was before you sighed, “she always was one of the smartest people in this town.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Tommy said cheekily, and your smile was weak but fond as he drawled, “even smarter than me?”

“Tommy, you mean the world to me, man,” you muttered as you shifted again, trying to push yourself up on only one arm as your other wrist was bound in a cast, “but you’re as dumb as fucking rocks sometimes.”

He laughed brightly at your snark, the sound quickly turning into a cough as you glanced over in concern, which he waved off as he grabbed a glass of water off the table next to him with his good arm. You glanced beside your own bed at the action, letting out a sigh of relief as you grabbed the glass of water that was there with your good hand and began to gulp it down.

When you both finished drinking, you sat in silence for a moment, and it was hard not to notice Tommy’s mood turning somber as he shot glances at you from the corner of his eye. You were about to ask him about whatever it was that he clearly wanted to say when he finally spoke.

“You should have told us you were hurt,” he said quietly, frowning deeply, and you sighed as you rubbed your free hand down over your face.

“To be honest, I forgot about it,” you muttered. Tommy gave a disbelieving scoff at your words, and you sent him a half-hearted glare. “Well, you were bleeding out.”

“So were you,” he nearly snapped back, his tone more biting, and you had to remind yourself not to take it to heart, because you knew it was from a place of love. 

You knew that Tommy was mad because he cared. He had been scared for your life, and you knew that when Tommy got angry, he got mean. Just like you did.

It was because of that fact that you forced yourself to keep quiet, not wanting to turn this into an argument. Not when you were both injured and bedridden like this.

“What, you’re not even going to say anything?” he bit out, and you sighed as you leaned back into the pillows you managed to prop up behind you so that you could sit up.

“I’m not doing this right now, Tommy,” you murmured, your eyes squeezing shut as you heard him shift in the bed beside you. You could almost feel his anger growing, even as you refused to feed it with the fuel of your own anger.

In retrospect, maybe that was why Tommy only got angrier. When faced with the rare circumstance when you two got into an argument, neither of you minced words as you tended to duke it out with your words. Then when the heat of the moment faded, and you were only left with the harsh words hanging in the air, you both would deflate, forced to face down your own needless cruelty and talk it out in an honest heart-to-heart. 

Faced with your rare silence now, he didn’t know how to handle the situation. And that made him meaner.

“When are we going to do this?” he barked back at you, and you finally opened your eyes to stare at him blankly, watching his hackles rise at what he probably perceived as indifference from you.

Little did he know how much you truly cared, and how much that vulnerability tore you apart.

“When are you going to admit that you are ready and willing to die?” Tommy’s voice was hard as he accused you, even with the pain shining in his eyes at his own words, and you froze at the truth as it hung heavy in the air between you.

Because, fuck, you knew that, but you didn’t know Tommy did.

This whole time, you thought he couldn’t see. You thought you covered it well; your emptiness, your dedication to live only for as long as it took to ensure that the people you loved survived. 

In retrospect, you should have known Tommy could see it. He had always known you well, sometimes even better than you knew yourself.

“For you,” you finally managed to clarify in response to the accusation, and Tommy winced as he turned his face away from you.

He shook his head, his hands balling into fists on the sheets as he glared down at his own tight grip. Maybe he was picturing it was you that he was holding onto so tightly—not trying to hurt you, but trying to keep you there. Trying to keep you with him.

“I don’t want that from you,” he finally said quietly, and you frowned as you looked away from him.

“I do,” you whispered, and you winced at Tommy’s sharp exhale, like your two simple words hurt him more than the bullet that had pierced through his arm.

He spoke your name as a curse, and you looked back up at him to see him staring at you with unshed tears behind his dark eyes, and your own eyes began to sting at the sight of his pain even as you couldn’t change your mind. You had set yourself on this path long ago. It was all that you had left in you.

“Jesus, I can’t—” Tommy cut himself off, unable to finish whatever he was going to say as he breathed out heavily. He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, inhaling deeply before the next words that left his mouth made your blood run cold, “Is this what she would want?”

You knew Tommy realized it was a mistake the moment he said it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from shutting down as you knew exactly what he meant. 

He didn’t need to say the name, didn’t need to give any details because you knew.

And he knew, his eyes wide as he looked back up at you.

He said your name again, this time as a plea as you threw the sheets off of your body. You stumbled to your feet, ripping the IV from your arm as you stormed away on unsteady feet. Tommy’s words fell on deaf ears as you only stopped to grab your dirty, blood-soaked clothes from the chair in the corner, not looking back as you staggered out of the room.

This time, he let you go.

When Joel visited the clinic to see Tommy, and she wasn’t there, the rare, unwelcome sensation of fear nearly choked him yet again.

For a second his mind turned to the worse, seeing the empty bed beside his brother where she should have been. In a quick flash he saw a freshly dug grave, a headstone with her name on it, before he saw Tommy’s gaze was not one of somebody who had just lost their closest friend. 

Only then did Joel allow himself to relax, the panic swept to the back of his mind as he frowned, sending another glance towards the empty bed when Tommy sighed.

“She’s fine,” Tommy muttered, reaching a hand up to drag his fingers through his hair in a movement that told Joel that his brother was stressed, but trying not to be. “She just—”

He stopped, sighing as he dropped his head into his hand, covering his face with his palm as his shoulders slouched. Joel saw now that there wasn’t only stress in his brother’s movements, but guilt.

“I got mad,” he muttered against his hand, the quiet words almost getting lost between them if the small room wasn’t otherwise empty. Joel moved to sink down onto the empty bed, not saying anything as he let Tommy continue slowly, “I said some shit I shouldn’t have.”

Joel still said nothing. He wasn't surprised; he knew well that Tommy lashed out when he was upset, having gotten the brunt of his anger more than once. Joel leaned forward as he looked at his brother, showing that he was listening, and that he could wait until Tommy was ready to reveal whatever was weighing on his mind.

“She used to have a light in her eyes, y’know,” Tommy murmured after a long moment of trying to find the words. He stared down at his hands in his lap as his shoulders sank, as if the weight from his thoughts were heavy enough to affect him physically as well as emotionally. “A bright light that I haven’t seen in…years.”

Tommy shook his head, rubbing his hand over the facial hair on his chin, not looking at Joel as the older man simply listened in silence, letting his little brother get whatever he needed to off his chest.

“She acts like she’s okay, but I know she’s not. Dina knows it too, but what the hell can we do?” Tommy laughed humorlessly, throwing his hands up in the air as if it was a helpless cause that tormented him more than Joel had ever realized. “She doesn’t want our help. Even though she’d do anything for us, she won’t let us return that favor for her.”

His head continued to shake, downcast in a way so that Joel couldn’t see his face, but the way he choked up on the next words was enough to make Joel stand in concern for his baby brother.

“She’s like—she’s a piece of me, y’know?” Tommy said quietly, placing his face in his hand again, and Joel quietly sank down on the edge of his bed, just so Tommy knew that he wasn’t alone in this. “In the Fireflies, we did some fucking awful shit, and I didn’t have anybody. I…I didn’t have you.”

Tommy looked up then, his eyes watering, and Joel’s heart broke as his older brother instincts kicked in. The pain, the vulnerability on Tommy’s face suddenly reminded Joel of when they were kids; those days when Tommy would come home from school, crying because the older kids had picked on him. 

Joel remembered how he would go back to school the next day with his fists up, giving those kids bloody noses and black eyes until they knew to leave his baby brother alone, even though their mother would yell at him for the needless violence every time. 

He guessed he had always had a hothead and callous heart, even at a young age. But it was always all for those few souls that Joel loved, and that had never changed.

“When I met her and—”

Tommy suddenly broke off, his eyes wavering before they darted back down to his hands. He flexed them, clearing his throat before he corrected himself, even though Joel noticed the slipup. 

There was another name, another person who had been in the Fireflies with them. Someone who Joel presumed was not still here with them, the name too painful to speak aloud even now.

Suddenly, a lot of things that he vaguely knew about the woman began to make sense. The pieces of her that he knew about clicked into place to form a bigger picture of her in his mind, of why she was the woman she was today.

“When I met her, she had her whole life ahead of her. Sure, she was always tough, with a smart mouth, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head as he straightened with a sigh.

“She lost everything,” Joel found himself murmuring, and Tommy looked back at him in surprise, to which Joel shrugged in response. “You can recognize it in another person pretty well, when it’s happened to you.” 

Tommy leaned back into the pillows behind him, nodding slowly even as he didn’t confirm it with any words or explanations. Those weren’t his to give, after all.

“The doc said she’ll need help with her injuries,” Tommy said quietly as he glanced back towards the empty bed where she had been. “But she doesn’t have anybody to do that for her. She’ll struggle alone, and nobody will know.”

For some reason, that caused an ache in Joel’s chest, his brows furrowing as he stared at the empty bed and the IV bag of fluids still hanging next to it.

“You’ll know,” Joel said quietly, trying to find some peace in the situation, but Tommy’s bitter laugh in response was jarring to his ears.

“But I can’t do shit about it.”

The brothers fell silent at that, both of them staring at the spot where she should have been. Joel’s hand balled into a fist against his knee, that ache in his chest deepening the longer he stared at the emptiness across from him.

When the resident doctor came in to change Tommy's bandage, Joel parted with his brother with a brief farewell and a promise to be back soon. 

Outside of the clinic, the streets of Jackson weren’t too busy as night approached. The temperature was cooling down as Joel shoved his hands in his pockets and began to walk the path back to his home, that ache continuing to carve its way deeper into his chest with each step he took.

Joel ignored it, as he did with everything that involved any emotion deeper than indifference. There were precious few people who could get him to care these days, and she wasn’t one of them.

But that ache persisted, and Joel’s shoulders hunched forward as he tried to shake it from his head. She shouldn’t be one of them.

On his right, the gravestones of Jackson’s cemetery beckoned his attention as he passed by them on his path home. Joel’s steps slowed to a stop, glancing over the names of the residents’ beloved, as the same thought from his brief panic earlier, when he had seen the empty bed, flashed through his mind again.

Joel sighed heavily as he paused for a moment, fighting with himself before he turned right back around, that ache in his chest only loosening with each step he took closer to his new destination.

Cold tile pressed against your cheek as you laid on your bathroom floor, trying to ground yourself from the barrage of thoughts and memories making your mind spin. You had already been sick once when you had returned to the safety of your house, but even with the time that had passed since then, you had only been able to get back up long enough to clean your face before lying back down.

The phantom weight of your tattoo pressed heavily on your torso again, and you exhaled harshly as you shifted, wincing from the pain that radiated from the bandaged wound on your leg from the awkward position. When the pain didn’t fade even as you readjusted, you sighed, using your one good arm to push yourself up so you could look down at the injury.

“Shit,” you muttered as you pulled the top of your jeans down, the dirty fabric caked with dried blood from when you had been stabbed earlier. You looked down to see that your wound had started bleeding lightly through the fabric from moving too much.

You rubbed a hand over your face, stumbling to your feet and trying to ignore your reflection in the mirror, but it beckoned you to look. Beckoned you to see. 

And when you did, you were nearly sick again. But you held on, your free hand curling around the edge of the countertop in a desperate attempt to keep yourself up.

There was too much of her in your face, even with a black eye and cracked lips. The color of your irises was too similar, the way your hair fell into place too much like her own, and you turned from the mirror with a shaky breath, unable to keep looking any longer, even as you knew that that wasn’t where the similarities stopped.

Your snark; she had had that too, her wit outmatching even yours. Her jokes had always held a kindness, even as your laughter was at the expense of others. Her humor had a joyful spark that contrasted sharply to your needless cruelty.

Her tenacity; she had gotten that from you too. But while your stubbornness had always been focused on survival, hers was always set on doing good. You wouldn’t have joined the Fireflies if it wasn’t what she had wanted, her conviction leaving you powerless to say no.

And even after all you had done, she had always believed. She always saw that light in the dark.

She always had been the best version of you.

She had always been your light in the dark.

And now she was gone; gone, but you loved her still, more than anybody, and what were you supposed to do with that? Where was all that love supposed to go when she wasn’t here anymore?

Your back slid against the cabinets as you fell back onto the ground, head tilted back as the tears streamed silently down your cheeks.

This is why you deflected. This is why you compartmentalized it, shoving it into the back of your mind, refusing to think about it even as it haunted every step you took. 

Because how could you ever get back up when you remembered her face every time you looked at your own?

Hands covering your face, you wept for a world without her in it. Your shoulders shook with the sobs, helpless to do anything except wait for the moment to pass, to wait until you had no more tears left to shed.

Even when it finally passed, you sat there, unable to find the strength to pull yourself up again. Unable to look in the mirror and see the parts of her that were still a part of you.

So when you heard the knock on your front door, you were nearly relieved by the necessary distraction it brought from your wallowing, even as you began to realize you that you didn’t have the strength physically to get up and answer it.

“Go away, Tommy,” you called out of the open door of the bathroom, knowing your voice would carry through the small home to where he was no doubt pounding on your door.

There was a pause, then more knocking, and you sighed in exasperation when it didn’t stop this time.

“For fuck’s sake, Tommy,” you bit out as you shifted to grab the edges of the countertop, pulling yourself up to stagger out of the doorway. “I told you to go away—”

You paused, seeing the culprit behind the knocking had taken the liberty of opening your front door and stepping inside. They froze when they saw you standing down the hallway from them, and you stared right back at them in equal shock.

Joel stood in the entryway with his hand still on the door handle, as if he was ready to turn and leave the moment you told him to get out. In his other hand, he held a package of bandages and cleaning solutions, and you couldn’t help but gawk at the unexpected sight.

“Um,” you hedged, not sure what to say as the two of you stared at each other from opposite sides of the hallway. Joel, surprisingly, looked as dumbfounded as you felt, even as he was the one who had walked into your house without an invitation. “Come in, I guess?”

“Sorry,” Joel muttered, shifting on his feet as he glanced away from you, and you were surprised by how awkward the motion was before he straightened. He lifted the medical supplies in his hand as he added, “I went to see Tommy, and the doc mentioned you needed these. I—uh, Tommy asked me to bring them.”

“Oh,” you said softly, nodding as you rocked back on the balls of your feet. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered you had just been sobbing your eyes out, and you turned your face away from his view as you quickly wiped at your eyes, wincing as you rubbed at the slightly swollen one. “Uh, thanks.”

Joel nodded, even as he made no move to walk forward and give the supplies to you. He stayed glued to the entryway, his hand still on the open door, his entire being screaming more hesitation and uncertainty than you had ever seen from him. Maybe it would have made you laugh, if you hadn’t felt so empty right then.

“The uh—the doctor also mentioned you might need help,” he said quietly, still avoiding your gaze even as you tried to catch his eyes, trying to gain a glimpse through his outer walls to see what he was really thinking, what he was really doing here. “So…”

You paused, blinking for a moment as you tried to process what he was getting at. 

Help? What did he—

A startled cough escaped you, and you quickly cleared your throat as you glanced away from him.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured, glancing down towards your where your bandaged knife wound was hidden underneath your dirty jeans with a wince because, fuck, you wouldn’t be. It would be hard to clean the injury even with two working hands, given how much your body was aching all over from the physical torture you had only just endured.

“Yeah, right,” Joel said quietly, nodding to himself as he looked down at his feet. After another moment of just standing there, he cleared his throat, finally looking up at you, and although his gaze appeared to be as guarded as always, there was something threatening to bleed through there that made you avoid the eye contact this time.

In the back of your mind, you remembered that morning on his kitchen floor, drinking coffee together. Your voice echoed through all the crevices in your mind, followed by his, and you paused at the memory.

Have you ever lost everything?

…Yes.

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as you cursed yourself internally. Turning back to face him, your mouth opened to say words you had sworn to yourself never to say to anyone.

“I won’t be.”

Joel paused from where he had been reaching out to place the supplies on the table in your entryway before leaving, blinking as his eyes met yours from down the hallway.

“Fine,” you clarified, your voice shaking as you balled your hands into fists at your sides. “I won’t be…fine.”

Fuck, you hated admitting it; especially out loud, especially to him.

But Joel already knew you in a more intimate way than anybody else did. Not only that, but he knew how broken you were; he had shared that pain somehow in his own way, in his own life. 

So what the fuck did you have to lose from swallowing your own fucking pride for once in your goddamn life?

Joel searched your gaze, probably looking for any part of you that said otherwise, that wanted him to leave through the door that was still open. You assumed he found nothing that told him to go outright by the way he stepped further into your house, the door clicking shut behind him before he walked down the hallway to meet you.

When he stopped in front of you, he still hesitated, and you did too as you glanced towards the bathroom next to you before looking back at him. You gestured towards it, and Joel looked over before shaking his head and waving back towards you in response.

“Ladies first,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help a quiet laugh. Some small, yet-to-be-broken part of yourself was still able to be genuinely amused at the comment as you walked into the small bathroom first at his show of selective manners.

“Maybe you really do have some Southern charm in you after all, cowboy,” you said quietly as you turned, trying to find a place to sit as Joel walked in behind you, his quiet chuckle pulling your attention back to him.

“Don’t go letting people know, now,” he murmured, shooting a glance towards you from the corner of his eye as he laid the medical supplies out on your counter. “I got a reputation to keep up.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you drawled, the banter you had exchanged that night when you had both been drunk returning to you now with an odd sense of familiarity, and you leaned into that feeling, letting it ground you to the moment as you gave him a small smirk. “I’d have to fight the other ladies off with a stick.”

Joel laughed again, louder this time, the sound somehow more real than it ever was before, and you paused as you watched the amusement pass over his face; the corners of his eyes crinkling, his brown irises brighter as his lips tilted up in his own small smirk to return yours.

He didn’t say anything in response, simply shaking his head as he busied himself with tearing one of the packages open. In the silence that fell, you busied yourself with unbuttoning your jeans, wincing with the pain the effort brought as you tried to push them down enough to reveal your bandaged wound, when Joel turned back around to face you.

Shock made you freeze as Joel knelt down in front of you, his hands coming up to help peel the pants down your legs all the way. You hadn’t been planning to take them off completely, but Joel didn’t say anything as he put them to the side, letting you sit down on the edge of your bathtub as he turned back to grab the bandages and cleaning solution.

You told yourself it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, and while that was true, this felt…different. 

Because it was different; it was removing clothes with no intention of sex, and your fingers twitched from restlessness where you rested them on the edge of the bathtub.

“Doesn’t this break your rules?” you murmured, and Joel didn’t spare a glance up at you as he carefully peeled the slightly bloody bandage away from your wound.

“We’re not fucking, are we?” he replied bluntly, echoing the words he had spoken in his kitchen that one morning, and you huffed out a laugh before glancing away with a shake of your head.

You guessed he was right. Technically, it wasn’t a violation of the rules. 

But deep down, you knew the slope that you were on together had gotten steeper again, and you were both helpless to do anything but slide down it a bit farther than before.

Still, you didn’t want to ponder too much about what that meant as you looked away from him while he cleaned up the wound your own knife had left in your thigh when the hunter had stabbed you with it. You held back any noises that indicated your pain, but you were too tired to hide any winces as he meticulously wiped the clean cotton soaked with solution along the wound before covering it back up with a fresh bandage.

You were prepared to stand back up when Joel picked up a damp washcloth that you hadn’t noticed he had prepared, and began to carefully wipe it down along your leg, cleaning up any dried blood and dirt that still stained your skin from the day. The action made you pause, eyes wide at the intimacy of it as you clutched the edge of the bathtub tighter.

No words left your lips as you watched him, unable to string together anything coherent to say as he finished cleaning one leg and moved to the next. When he wiped the fabric across your uninjured thigh, you suddenly remembered waking up in his living room not even twenty-four hours before this moment, and how your thighs had been clean then. 

You wondered if Joel had cleaned them then like he did now; with a concentrated furrowing of his brow, the hands that you had seen kill mercilessly just earlier today the very same ones that attentively guided the damp washcloth along your skin now. A feeling you couldn't recognize thumped in your chest at the thought, and you quickly glanced away.

Joel’s hands rose, the cloth now wiping away the grime on your arms as he took them in his hands, and you stared at your bathroom wall as you forced yourself not to think, not to feel anything in that moment. Even as you could feel something growing that you tried to bury back into that crypt that every thought of him always seemed to crawl back out of.

When he stood and turned away from you, a silent breath of relief escaped you, thinking you were done with this now, and everything between you and Joel could go back to its weird normalcy. He would leave now, and you wouldn’t see him again until he wanted to fuck. And you could live with that.

But then he turned back with a new washcloth, crouching down in front of you again as he calmly took your chin in his hand. You froze at the touch, eyes wide as that feeling inside you grew when he began to meticulously clean your face. 

Your eyes darted over his face, helpless but to watch for any reaction he was giving during his task, but you couldn’t read him. He was as guarded as ever, taking his task seriously as he carefully dabbed the cool cloth around your swollen eye.

It was only then when you finally found the ability to speak, the words leaving your cracked lips even before you could really think about them.

“What are you doing here, Joel?”

Joel paused in his actions, his gaze finally flashing to meet yours from where his face was now so close to yours, maybe closer than it had ever been. Your heart thumped in your chest as you stared at him in defiance, his expression blank before he shook his head and went back to carefully cleaning the area around your black eye.

“I told you to stay safe,” he said quietly, and your heart squeezed in your chest as you tried to look away, but his grip on your chin tightened, keeping you there as he lightly wiped the damp cloth down your cheek. “Don’t be so eager to throw your life away.”

The words made you bristle, your hand curling into a fist as you mustered a glare at him, even as his grip didn’t waver on your chin while he drew the washcloth along your jaw.

“Did I make the wrong move?” you asked quietly, anger simmering under the surface as Joel finally looked back at you. “Should I have let Jesse get captured too?”

Joel sighed, the washcloth dropping from your face, even as his hand remained firmly holding your chin so you couldn’t look away from him as he met your hard gaze readily.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly, his eyes serious as they looked into yours, the brown of them trying to communicate something that you couldn’t understand.

“Then what?” you snapped, unable to keep yourself from reacting on your knee jerk response to this kind of topic that told you to fight. “Given the same circumstance, I would do it again. Jesse has a life. He has a family—”

“So do you,” Joel said sternly, his eyes blazing as an emotion that you couldn’t name finally bled through his neutral voice, and you paused at the unexpected strength of it.

The two of you watched each other for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say to follow that, before Joel finally dropped his hand from your face. He sighed again, rubbing his eyes before speaking again, quieter this time.

“People need you.” Joel looked up at you, his stoic gaze cracking just slightly even as you couldn’t tell what emotions were trying to break through. Still, it caught you off-guard and captured all of your attention. “Tommy needs you. Dina needs you. Hope needs you—you made a promise to her. You can’t just brush that aside.”

The mention of Hope got to you the most, your gaze darting away as you bit your inner cheek.

“It’s not that simple,” you said quietly, still not looking at Joel until he moved to slump against the bathtub on the ground, next to where you still sat on the edge.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured, and you didn’t need to know his life story to know that he really did understand—probably better than anyone else in this town did.

Silence fell between you, hanging heavy in the room as you tried to process everything that had happened in just the past twenty-four hours. Something was still nagging at you; a question, an accusation that Joel had not offered the answer to even when you asked, and you turned to look back down at where he sat with his elbows resting on his drawn-up knees.

“Why are you here, Joel?” you repeated quietly, watching as he stiffened at the question, but you wouldn’t back down from it now that you had finally gathered the courage to ask. “Really?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, his fingers tapping against the top of his shin. After a long moment, when you were about to snap at him again for an answer, he slowly replied, “You ever heard of the term ‘friends with benefits’?”

You laughed, even as you felt surprise at your own amusement towards the unexpected, blunt terminology that left the older man’s lips.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what we are,” you muttered as you shifted off the bathtub, moving to sit down next to him on the bathroom floor. The cold of the tile bit into your bare legs, but you found that you didn’t mind much with Joel’s body heat radiating from where he sat close to you. 

His shoulder brushed against yours as he shrugged, but he didn’t make a move to pull away from you at the light touch.

“Well, it also implies something else,” he said quietly, and you watched him in confusion, brows furrowed when he gave no further clarification until he looked up at you. 

There was something honest in his gaze; something unspoken, unseen until now, and your heart skipped a beat as you suddenly heard what he left unsaid.

Friends.

You just stared at him for a moment, watching him as he watched you. You wondered what he saw there, what emotions were showing on your face that you couldn’t hide in your shock, before you quickly looked away.

And despite your better judgment, a small smile broke across your face as you thought the word over again.

Friends.

Joel Miller was your friend.

You didn’t know when it had happened, or even why it happened, but it had. There was no denying it now, not when he had implied it so heavily. Not when it was a term that made whatever it was growing between you finally make…sense.

There was nothing left to say, so you said nothing. You only stared down at his hands, looking at the old scars across his knuckles that had split open again, bruised and bloodied from when he had punched the hunter over and over before saving you.

Your face softened at the thought; this cold, ruthless killer who had somehow found it in his carefully guarded heart to save you, even going so far as to take care of you now.

You reached out to take his hand, pulling it towards you to rest in your lap before grabbing the washcloth. It was difficult, cleaning the old, reopened wound with one hand in a cast, but you managed.

"You're a fighter," you said quietly, brows furrowed in concentration as you avoided his gaze when it focused fully on the side of your face at your repetition of the words he had told you months ago, back when you still despised each other. "You should take care of your hands."

A silence fell over you when you finished cleaning his hand, and you placed it back in his own lap before letting the bloodied rag drop between you.

Neither of you said anything then, because you didn't know what to say. Something heavy was settling in the air, pressing around you, and you resorted to your usual deflection of humor to push back against it, gently nudging his shoulder with your own before glancing back at him from the corner of your eye.

“Don’t worry,” you said cheekily, making his eyebrow raise in question, and you held back a snicker at the sight as you added, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“What secret?” he asked, his voice revealing his confusion as he stared at you blankly, his stoicism not fading even at the revelation of friendship that neither of you mentioned directly.

You hummed, letting the question hang in the air for a moment, pretending to think it over as you crossed your arms.

“That you’re a big ol’ softie, Joel Miller,” you smirked, unable to help a laugh as he scoffs beside you.

A moment of quiet fell between you as your words lingered, before he finally responded.

“You better keep that secret,” he chided without any hint of malice, and you laughed again before glancing away from him, closing your eyes and keeping them shut even as you felt him watching you.

“On my life, cowboy,” you murmured, unable to keep the small smile off your face as his shoulder brushed against yours again, and the two of you fell into a silence more comfortable than any between you before as neither of you pulled away from the touch.

And as you sat in silence in the presence of Joel’s company—your friend —you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this.

[emblazons]

Note: I am finally posting this (something that has been in my drafts for actual months) because @pinkeoni hurt my feelings talking about Will and Alan Turing). So...you can inavertently thank Robin for this LMAO

I don’t delve much into Stranger Things analysis anymore, but having just watched The Imitation Game, the biopic they made about Alan Turning in 2014—I’m thinking that maybe Will doing his presentation on the man might have an delightful (secondary) parallel to this film’s exploration of him, given Will’s burgeoning queerness + ongoing relationship with normalcy.

Throughout the film, the ongoing theme of "differences bringing about greatness/change" permeates every character, but Turing especially—something that the conversation he has with a character named Joan near the end of the film showcases well:

In this conversation, Joan is trying to encourage Turing to come out of depression and rely on her, given he is struggling immensely with physical effects of chemical castration—which he obviously resents, but feels is better than giving up the life he has and being “entirely alone” because of his sexuality / desires (sound familiar)?

This ongoing exploration of queerness as tied to greatness and/or otherness is something that is very often explored in Stranger Things as well, primarily with Will—to the point where Will has nearly the exact conversation Alan has with Joan with Jonathan in S2:

—in addition to us exploring the relationship between a lack of normalcy, queerness and even nerdiness through/by other characters like Robin, Mike & Lucas.

Now (as we all know), Will’s homosexuality has been forever and inherently linked to his otherness/lack of normalcy—whether with how he was bullied in S1-S2, his struggle to be open with his feelings for Mike in S4, or the million literal / metaphorical things in between, Will has always been encouraged not to conform, but still struggles to self-actualize enough to embrace himself fully…which most of us expect for him come S5.

Basically: the underlying theme of this film for Turning (much like the underlying themes at the heart of ST) revolves around how most people strive for normalcy, despite normalcy being undesirable if you expect to do anything great/interesting. While Turing was a homosexual man, he was also one who struggled greatly with fitting in overall—much like Will, which I think perfectly reflects how the Duffers have set up their S5 resolution + solving Will’s ongoing internal struggle with his romantic feelings for Mike + ongoing dissonance with normalcy.

(sidebar: there are articles exploring the idea of "embracing difference" in this movie that parallel Will's "Being Different." See: Embracing Difference - The Imitation Game)

Both TIG!Turing and Will exist in on the fringes on their respective worlds due to their differences and homosexuality—just as both of them are both most inspired by their (romantic) love for their male best friends....to the point that those relationships define their contributions to the story: Turing with the machine that helped the Allied powers break the Nazi Enigma code, and Will in ways I'm sure we'll be talking about in 2025.

TL;DR: While Will still has another season to sort through what his love for his best friend means for both his rejection of normalcy and his greatness, it's fairly apparent that (much like Turing) it is the embracing of both difference and homosexuality that leads to greatness—no matter how the world feels about that overall.

(We love it when the gays learn life lessons (and when they win)).

[sirobvious]

It is hard to believe that D&D5e is so bad that it has permeated a style of play throughout the entire TTRPG hobby where you just ignore all the dice and rules of the game you’re obstinately playing

[jungkookschin]

operation true love! chapter 5: this was all minwoo's fault

after y/n finds out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her with her adopted sister, she finds herself entangled with two of the most popular boys at their uni: jake and heeseung.

pairing: soccerplayer!jake x reader, tsundere!heeseung x reader

operation true love!

chapter five: this was all minwoo's fault

prev/next

taglist: @curly-fr13s , @viagumi , @gyurtl  , @haechansbbg

Mortification.

Mortification is the horror stricken feeling rushing through your veins as Minwoo approaches the student section. His eyes directly pierce yours as he makes strides right towards you. 

You gulp, instantly regretting even coming to this stupid soccer game. Getting your ass out of bed to be at this game took a lot more effort than anticipated. Sitting on the unwelcoming, cold metal bleachers had you shifting in discomfort- and when everybody shot up to cheer for Minwoo when he scored a decisive goal, you and your friends sat frozen. 

The crowd erupted  in cheers, bellowing his name after he shot the ball into that goalpost. His teammates roared in excitement, dopamine rushing through their veins as they ran towards Minwoo and tackled him in celebration. 

Well- they tried to tackle him in celebration, but they couldn’t because Minwoo ran away from his teammates and to the announcer’s microphone. His long fingers grasped the circumference of the microphone, ignoring the confused protests from the announcers. 

Whispers and doubtful looks of confusion permeated the student section as Minwoo clumsily approached the student section with beads of sweat dripping from the sides of his head.

He continued sauntering your way until he stopped right in front of you. 

“Y/N, that goal was for you.”

The words smoothly flow from his lips as if he had spent hours rehearsing these lines. 

“You’re everything to me- the reason i work hard, the reason I practice hard, and the reason I play hard.”

The profession of his love is accompanied by a lovestruck expression- and had it been the old naive version of you, you would have melted. But you know that his words are nothing but fictitious, and your features curl in disgust.

The boy you fell for never existed. 

The time you wasted on him- your first hand holding, first kiss- it all meant nothing. The realization inflicts a nauseating feeling of revulsion into your system, and that nasty feeling spreads throughout your body and nearly paralyzes you. 

His last profession imposes something vile in you.

“Whatever you think haplened with me and some girl didn’t happen. Please take me back.”

Minwoo’s attempt at manipulating you nauseates you. You witnessed with your own eyes Minwoo leaning down to kiss your sister Ra-Im- right in your fucking room. He has the audacity to cheat on you, lie to you, gaslight you, and publicly manipulate you because he expects that you’ll give him an affirmative answer since the eyes of the entire student body are focused on you. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you say firmly, before you shoot up and run away. 

What’s crazy is that the mic caught heed of your words, amplifying your response to anybody and everybody who was at the game. 

Yunjin and Hiyyih instinctively jolt up, running after you while Wonyoung stays on the bleachers, unable to control her expression. She viciously glares at him, witnessing the way his expression crumbles before he does something very strange. Instead of chasing after you or watching you run off, he looks directly at Ra-Im. 

And of course, Wonyoung doesn’t miss the way Ra-Im subtly smirks to herself before picking up her phone. 

crying your eyes out. Knees curling towards your chest, you’ve been leaning against a cabinet with (probably) many toxic chemicals, and you’re sure you’re getting dizzy from inhaling said chemicals. 

But you can’t bring yourself to leave the room- Minwoo humiliated you in front of everybody. He publicized your issues and successfully tarnished your image by painting you to be the bad guy. Honestly, all you wanted to do is forget about him and move on. You refused to confront Ra-Im on the issue because that would just ruin your family dynamic. And as much as you hate her for being a backstabbing bitch, you know that your parents would no longer welcome her into your home if they know what she did. You hate her, but you don’t want the girl to be homeless. 

You want to move on so badly, but you can’t because you’re constantly being reminded of it. Ra-im lives in the room next to you for goodness sake. And the situation sucks because it’s like you’re mourning the loss of two important people in your life: your ex boyfriend Minwoo, and Ra-Im who used to be your best friend. 

You don’t understand it, and you’d rather suppress your emotions than confront it, which is exactly why you’re in the closet. 

You use your jacket paws to wipe some boogers from your nose before you grab your phone from your pocket and turn it back on. Your friends were blowing up your phone and you were too embarrassed to talk to anybody, so you turned off your phone so the notifications wouldn’t come through. 

When you turn your phone back on, you’re bombarded with hundreds of notifications. You scroll through them briefly, seeing that your friends are freaking out trying to find you. You also see that the men’s soccer team ended up losing. You shiver at the thought, considering that the soccer team may blame you for their loss. 

You shake your head dismissing the thought before you stand up and turn the knob of the janitor’s closet, stepping out quietly. 

As if today wasn’t already a horrible day, you end up running into a certain lead striker right when you step out: Jake Sim. He’s holding his cleats in his hand, hair damp from the shower he took in the men’s soccer room when he stops in his tracks and looks right at you. 

The two of you awkwardly stare at each other, and you gulp, taking in how handsome he is. It’s not like you’re attracted to him, but you can acknowledge that he is attractive. And attractive people intimidate you, so immediately look down and avert eye contact, deciding that this would be the only and last interaction you would ever have with him.

You attempt to step around him and walk away, but he stops you by grasping your wrist. You look at him, confusion etched onto your features, and Jake looks at you in a way that you can only describe as fleeting. Before you can ask him what the hell he’s doing, he pulls you by your arm towards him before he traps you against the wall, forearms pressed on the wall.  

“W-what are you doing?” you whisper, gulping at his close proximity. 

Jake looks down at you, wordless. At this point, you can feel his breath against your cheeks, and you’re peering up at him to properly scrutinize his features. He’s looking down at you with equal fascination eyes glazing over your features. 

“Just-just don’t go,” he finally expresses. 

“I’ve never even spoken to you,” you mutter, finally averting eye contact.

“But I know who you are,” Jake responds swiftly, still gazing down at you. 

“I thought you would be mad at me, um.. That you guys lost because of me,” you hesitantly explain.

Jake responds with an incredulous look. “Y/N that wasn’t your fault. That was all Minwoo.. That fucking idiot,” he suddenly hisses, annoyance etched onto his face. 

“I thought you guys were friends..?-”

“We’re not,” Jake retorts firmly, “We play on the same soccer team. I don’t like him.”

“Oh.”  Jake’s general image was the poster boy of the soccer team: kind to everyone, good at soccer, handsome, gets good grades- you’re a little shocked to hear him speak so abrasively. At the same tie, his face is still close to yours, and the intoxicating scent of his shampoo makes you weak in the knees. 

“Jake, you’re kinda crushing me here,” you squeak. Jake backs up a bit. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Just stay here a little longer, okay?” 

This moment was so painfully awkward but you listen to him because he’s kinda scaring you at this point.

Suddenly, your hear the echoes of two very familiar voices bouncing off the walls of the hallway. Ra-Im and Minwoo. Your heart sinks in the expatiating pit in your stomach, and you immediately follow the sounds of the voices, ignoring Jake’s pleas for you to return. 

You run down the hallway, and see none othr than Ra-Im and Minwoo making out in the classroom. You smile bitterly to yourself: so this is why Jake Sim randomly pushed you against the wall, because he pitited you. 

With tears threatening to spill form your yes, you storm off in the opposite direction. At tis point, you expect nothing from Raim and Minwoo. Both are scum. Minwoo had the audacity to profess his “love” for you in front of the whole school and didn’t even have the decency to wait a day before he ran back into Ra-Im’s arms. 

At this point, Ra-Im is dead to you. All the memories, sleepovers, matching clothes- it means nothing to you. 

As you run off somewhere away from where you are, you ignore Jake’s calls for you to calm down and return. 

“Y/N! Come back! It’s late, let me at least walk you home or something!” he calls, grasping onto your wrist once again. 

You immediately shake his hand off you. “I don’t need your fucking pity” you seethe, “I already know what’s going on between those two- you don’t have to fucking protect me.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that- I just didn’t want you to be upset. I already know you had a tough day so I thought I should give you a break,” he gently pleas, still chasing you as you storm down the hallway. At the softness of his words, you crumble, slumping down against the wall white you sob into your hands. 

Embarrassing. 

It’s embarrassing that the most popular boy in the school who you’ve never even spoken to is comforting you, letting you cry into his newly cleaned hoodie while his hands gently rub up and down the expanse of your torso. But you suppose that just this time, it’s okay for you to succumb into the welcoming embrace of this cute boy- because you’re hurt and upset. You can always pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow.  

[landgraabbed]

one thing that imho makes bethesdas open worlds so special that i rarely see getting mentioned in essays is how lived in they are. and i don't mean it necessarily in the little stories you uncover by reading journals way, though it plays into it. it's just the sense of history that permeates places.

in skyrim, markarth is a nordic settlement that is part of contested territory of the reachmen; the markarth incident left deep marks on the city. these people use infrastructure left behind by the dwemer and as you descend into the bowels of the city you come to find the falmer inhabiting the deeper dwemer ruins, left behind after the dwemer tricked their race into slavery and forever changed their very nature. all steeped in local history, quite literally a vertical slice of it. markarth is a very clear example of this, but all over the region you see ruins and structures being repurposed and built upon throughout history.

with morrowind's smaller size bethesda was afforded the means to give each and every npc in vvardenfell a name. there are no generic bandit npcs. instead, they have a given name and a family name, and if you keep track of things, you may find that an npc hiding away in a daedric ruin might be related to another npc in an entirely separate place in the island. or you may even find the ancestral tomb of their family, housing their ancestors' remains for holy purposes. one of my favorite examples is the ienith family. two prominent members, brothers ranes and ievil ienith, work for the cammona tong and are a target of the morag tong. most interestingly, a member of this family can be met in skyrim during azura's quest, aranea ienith. it is fascinating to look through the ancestral tombs page of the uesp and see unlikely family relations.

idk, it is part of why i enjoy these games so much. i've always been a type of person to appreciate worldbuilding, and i've seen many amazing fictional worlds in games with incredible worldbuilding. but none has matched the way that history seemingly blooms up to the surface like granite in the world of elder scrolls

[goodshipskypirate]

So, I think "In the Womb of the Stars" has succeeded "Respite of Serenade" as my current favorite musical score in the entire Sea of Stars soundtrack. It's such a beautiful, serene piece that leaves you hopeful and content. It's a worthy, quiet tale remix of the opening title song.

But after listening to this song for the umpteenth time, I noticed something... distinct. A pattern, so to speak. So I listened to the opening title screen again. Then "Mooncradle". ...And then it hit me. So I gave "The Great Archives" a listen to confirm. Then I listened to the Moorlands theme, which I recently figured out was an arrangement of "The Great Archives." Then I listened to "Echoes of Wonder; Shadows of Dread" AKA the Alchemists' Gay Boyfriend song and then I listened to these songs like six million more times and ...

oh shit.

I think they're all arrangements of the same goddamn song - Resh'an's theme song.

My God, they really are going for a story overlap. They really do plan to tell a greater narrative scope with these bastard immortal wizards as the centerpiece for the next three games, and Resh'an's theme song being the connective tissue that permeates throughout the game is not only a massively subtle bit of storytelling that emphasizes how much he's gotten his hands into the overall setting of Sea of Stars, but a setup, a promise of something continuous beyond this game.

Sabotage Studio, you mad, fucking geniuses. ...I think you guys convinced me to play The Messenger in the near future.

[rustyvanburace]

I think one of the unsung morals in SMT IV Apocalypse is the danger of placing all your hopes or entire worth into another person. What might be called a parasocial relationship.

The Real Flynn is by no means self-centered or hostile since he does very much care for the people of Tokyo. All the same though, while good and necessary that he revived their hopes in IV's neutral route, his celebrity status posed a problem as people began investing all their hopes and expectations in him. That when he was kidnapped by Krishna, it immediately led to defeated anguish and fearful uncertainty. It also motivated some Hunters to take action, but there was nonetheless a permeating sense of doubt and loss of direction.

Flynn inspiring hope in the hearts of Tokyo was never meant to rally people around him as their one and only savior, but to encourage them to take charge in their own lives for a better tomorrow. Nonetheless though, the former was what ultimately happened. And I think it was that loss of a savior and the desperation to have him back that made Tokyo so especially vulnerable to Shesha Flynn's manipulation.

What especially stands out to me is during Armageddon at Camp Ichigaya when "Flynn" rallies his Hunters to recklessly charge at Merkabah and Lucifer, essentially throwing their lives away out of thoughtless, blind trust. Nanashi can try to stop them, but it just angers the Hunters and gets him accused of protecting their enemies. The Hunters are not thinking for themselves whatsoever.

IVA stresses throughout the game the importance of thinking for ourselves and making our own decisions. There are many who fall victim to blindly following the angels or demons. And there are also far too many who blindly follow Flynn as their sole savior, which the Divine Powers took advantage of.

A recurring theme in IVA is possession and I would think this to be an extension of that. IVA cautions us not to deeply invest in someone at the cost of our own needs or independence. Whether that person is a celebrity, a politician, a friend, a relative, or anyone else. Even if that person isn't actually taking advantage of us, the one sided'ness and worshipping in any relationship is all the same still unhealthy and dangerous.

[oktobearfest]

full thoughts on the borderlands movie

yeah the reviews weren't exaggerating this movie is fucking awful. probably one of the worst video game movies in recent memory. pretty much everything about it is horrible. don't know where to begin so i'll just list off my random thoughts about the movie

the visual effects are terrible. this movie visually looks like the VFX team didn't have a budget or didn't have any time to make this movie look even remotely competent. like some of the things in this movie look like a PS2 cutscene. i will say as a positive that claptrap consistently looked great and was thing i thought looked good. that positive is automatically retracted when i learned that the people that worked on claptrap specifically were not credited for their work

i know everyone is saying it but everyone in this is hilariously miscast. kevin hart as roland was ridiculous but honestly he didn't bother me that much in the actual movie. cate blanchett as lilith and jamie lee curtis as tannis were WAY worse. they're both too old for these roles especially given that in the movie tannis is supposed to be like, 30 ish years older than lilith. bitch these two characters don't look that far apart in age??? jack black as claptrap was annoying as fuck. just sounded like he was doing a bad impression of the original VA. another positive is that i thought the guy playing marcus was pretty good. he looked and sounded like the character but he's in like. 2 scenes and then you forget he exists. also i dont see a lot of people talking about this so it may just be me but moxy looked really old for the role as well. she's literally in 1 scene and thats it so it doesn't matter that much but it did stand out to me.

movie is insanely unfunny. nothing else to say. the attempts at "jokes" here were embarrassing

very confused as to who this movie was made for as it doesn't respect the source material in any way but also has a ton of references to the games that non fans would not understand.

not sure if this is true but this movie felt like it was originally rated R but it was trimmed down to be a PG-13 rating. why is a movie based off of a franchise with rated M games PG-13??????

every scene felt super rushed and you never get to know any of these characters or care about them. the writing and character development were very hollow and superficial. i know the borderlands games are not peak fiction when it comes to writing but you still come to like and care about these characters. in this movie, im like damn i dislike all of you lol

this entire movie has "was in development hell for almost 10 years" vibes all over it. it permeates throughout the entire thing. i couldn't stop thinking about how it took almost a decade for this movie to be shit out onto the big screen

w. w. why did they change tiny tina's backstory and why is it 100000000000% pointless.

WHERE ARE MORDECAI AND BRICK. WHERE ARE THEY

[ofkaan]

the final farewell (2016)

with @aellegro

If Choi Hajoon could possess any superpower he desired from birth, time travel would undoubtedly be his choice. Given the chance, he would use it to go back to the fateful moment when his dear friend, Hyungseo, was drowning in the cold and dark lake waters. Hajoon would deliberately delay his swim by a few seconds, granting him the opportunity to observe Hyungseo's movements and trajectory more closely. He was determined to prevent the tragedy and rewrite history, even if it meant persuading Hyungseo to forgo the resort trip entirely. Instead, they would spend a pleasant evening at Hajoon's house, enjoying a barbeque and immersing themselves in video games until midnight.

Amidst the solemn atmosphere of the funeral, Hyungseo's body lay peacefully in the casket. The wooden plank covered the top, adorned with white flowers and a photograph capturing his radiant smile, as if greeting the guests. It was the final day of the wake, and Hajoon sought solace in a corner of the room. His head throbbed with heat, while his joints and back ached from the relentless walking.

For the past three days, Hajoon had been enduring countless sleepless nights, devoting himself to the grieving parents of Hyungseo. Hyungseo, their only successor, had unexpectedly passed away, leaving his family shattered and bereft. Recognizing the overwhelming burden they faced, Hajoon stepped forward to alleviate some of their pain. He assumed the responsibility of serving nourishing meals to the endless stream of guests who came to pay their respects. Most importantly, Hajoon ensured that Hyungseo's parents consumed enough sustenance to maintain their physical and emotional strength throughout the arduous conversations they had to endure.

The weight of responsibility gnawed at Hajoon's conscience as he grappled with the realization that he hadn't provided adequate care for Hyungseo. At the tender age of twenty, Hajoon had never fathomed the possibility of attending the funeral of someone so close to him. It was as if life had become a surreal spectacle observed through binoculars, where distant events abruptly felt within arm's reach.

In the dimly lit funeral room, a palpable sense of tranquility permeated the air. The temperature was carefully controlled, creating a comfortable coolness that contrasted with the heavy atmosphere of grief. The aroma of savory snacks, meticulously prepared in the kitchen, wafted through the space, offering a comforting familiarity amidst the somber occasion.

Seated in the back row, Hajoon found himself on the verge of exhaustion. The continuous murmurs of people echoed in his ears like a distant symphony, signaling his body's desperate need for rest. His bleary eyes struggled to stay open, and his mind wandered aimlessly, contemplating his options. Briefly, he considered the possibility of closing his eyes for a quick recharge, a momentary escape from the overwhelming emotions that surrounded him. Another option crossed his mind: setting a fifteen-minute timer to force himself to stay awake and alert. However, in a moment of weakness, he succumbed to the allure of sleep, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Unbeknownst to Hajoon, his slumber was not unnoticed. A keen observer sat quietly in the back of the room, watching him attentively.

[writing-in-verse]

So I Finally Read Sword Catcher by Cassandra Clare

There will be some level of spoilers so do be aware all who enter here.

I was apprehensive at first when i heard Cassie was writing a book in an entirely new setting, a new adult book no less, after writing YA for as long as I can remember. I've seen authors attempt to pivot to a different age bracket before and it is a challenge if you're not fully prepared for it.

Sword Catcher is entering the space where Game of Thrones and Gentleman Bastards have long ago carved out their right to be there and became titans of their own. It was surprising then to see both authors of the above had read Sword Catcher and had given a review for the back of the book - George R.R. Martin's quote and name was displayed proudly on the front of my edition for added flair.

It was a bold statement of intent, to sit among giants and share the space meant Cassie was putting her best foot forward. I don't want to suggest Lynch or Martin 'allowed' or 'gave permission' for Cassie to be in this space but they did vouch for her, showing a creative respect which carries weight and expectation.

I'm so happy to say Cassie pulled it off.

I'll admit I was cautiously optimistic about Sword Catcher, about Kel and Connor and Lin, a slightly worry that perhaps Cassie's years as a YA author could hold back the potential of this new work. If in being really honest, Shadowhunters is very important to me and I think part of me was unsure about leaving it behind.

Cassie's ability to build a world here is striking in it's ability to never overwhelm the reader with context and exposition without losing any of the depth and complexity you'd expect from a novel concerning kings and kingdoms. You come to learn of Castellane's long and muddled history over time, never giving away more than is needed to make the world feel complete but without throwing nonsense terms around which would simply not be remembered.

The class divides that permeate the work, held up by proto-capitalist greed and the politics of nations happening atop a towering hillside is fed in lockstep with the rest of the plot, holding enough information in front of the reader without giving the whole mystery away. Woven throughout is the Ashkari people, very clearly a Jewish analogue, a nation with no homeland other than the one their communities reside in. Locked inside the Sault after nightfall and looked upon with distrust, othered because of their ability to use even limited magic. I'm certainly not selling the tact and nuance Cassie brings to the world and the people who live in it but it's beautifully presented and should be applauded.

I don't have much to say about the characters, mostly because I can see their journey has just begun and I'm excited to see them all grow and change as the narrative unfolds. What I will say is Lin can do no wrong, Kel is just a fella, and Connor is one of the best written protagonists for how deeply flawed and naive he is and yet I simply cannot wish him ill.

I summary, Sword Catcher is an almost flawless first entry into a series I could see becoming a favourite of mine and I cannot see where it goes next. What a dazzling and captivating read.

[satoshi-mochida]

PlayStation India Hero Project titles announced – Meteora: The Race Against Space Time, Fishbowl, Mukti, Requital: Gates of Blood, SURI: The Seventh Note

From Gematsu

Sony Interactive Entertainment has announced the first five titles as part of its India Hero Project, a new initiative that aims to “unearth and empower India’s brightest game development talents to share their unique visions with gamers globally.”

Get the details on each game below.

Meteora: The Race Against Space Time

Platforms: PlayStation 5, PlayStation VR2, PC

Developer: Big Boot Games

Official Website: meteorathegame.com

Shoot yourself into the nebula and join a race for survival. In this arcade combat racer, you’re not just a meteor but a force of nature. Cascade your way through a volatile universe of awe and wonder as you outmaneuver, pursue, and obliterate rival meteors in a dazzling display of strategy and skill. Harness the power of the cosmos, level up your abilities, and climb the leaderboard in an experience that’s as thrilling as it is unforgiving.

Fishbowl

Platforms: PlayStation 5, PC

Developer: imissmyfriends.studio

Official Website: imissmyfriends.studio

Fishbowl is a slice-of-life story that takes players on a journey of nostalgia and melancholy, exploring themes of grief, connection, and self-discovery, set in the cultural landscape of urban India. The world is filled with crafted pixel art and an original Lofi soundtrack that forms the backdrop of our game. Fishbowl weaves together a multigenerational narrative, following the aspirations of Alo as she embarks on her first job in a new city, although working from home. Your decisions throughout the game will shape Alo’s journey, leading to moments of reliving the past and coming to terms with the present through a month of challenges and discoveries with Alo. Prepare for Fishbowl’s robust storytelling and immersive gameplay.

Mukti

Platforms: PlayStation 5, PC

Developer: underDOGS

Official Website: muktithegame.com

Mukti is a first-person story exploration game set within the immersive environment of an Indian museum, delving deep into a critical social issue: human trafficking. In Mukti, players embark on a journey of discovery as they navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the museum, uncovering the harrowing truths and hidden narratives behind the scourge of human trafficking. Through rich storytelling and immersive gameplay mechanics, Mukti invites players to confront the realities that victims and survivors face, shedding light on this pressing global issue. Drawing inspiration from authentic narratives and meticulously researched historical contexts, Mukti aims to raise awareness, provoke thought, and inspire action. Each interaction within the game is designed to provoke empathy, spark dialogue, and ignite change. Mukti offers an impactful gaming experience that enlightens and empowers.

Requital: Gates of Blood

Platforms: PlayStation 5, PC

Developer: Holy Cow Productions

Official Website: requitalthegame.com

Requital: Gates of Blood is a 2D side-scrolling action platformer inspired by Egyptian mythology set in the mystical underworld of Duat. Players assume the role of Zahrah, traversing the afterlife to defeat the mighty guardians of the Gates of Duat. Through a series of intense boss-rush-like encounters, players confront powerful gods, demons, and beasts. Embark on your journey of retribution from the celestial Nile, delving into the dark and twisted realms of the Duat. Engage in the immersive interactions with entirely hand-drawn characters and environments as you unravel the lore that permeates this enigmatic underworld. Traverse the Gates of Duat and forge a path through the afterlife.

SURI: The Seventh Note

Platforms: PlayStation 5, PC

Developer: Tathvamasi

Official Website: surithegame.com

SURI: The Seventh Note is a 2D action exploration game set in the enchanting backdrop of mythical India. A world brimming with captivating Indian mythology-inspired narratives, vibrant characters, and mythical locales, from the floating temples in the Himalayas, the lost forts of Rajasthan, ancient jungles nestled in the Western Ghats, and many more. Platforming meets a unique musical dimension as the game’s world synchronizes seamlessly with an enigmatic beat. Uncover the connection between rhythm and the mystical realm of Ragamandala as you traverse its landscapes and unravel its secrets. This journey promises to transport players to a realm where every step is accompanied by the pulsating heartbeat of the game’s universe. Get ready to embark on this extraordinary adventure.

[maytheoddshq]

Neptune Akoya (she/her). District 4 Tribute. 58. Michelle Yeoh.

There was a misunderstanding throughout all of Panem about District Four Tributes. Most people didn’t understand how they were Careers - trained killers - when the people who entered the Arena tended to be so mellow, down-to-earth, and humble. The image of a District Four Tribute did not align with those from One and Two, who sought glory, violence, and fame. The highly trained and focused Tributes from Four did not seem coherent with the District’s otherwise rebel-leaning sentiment, where they opposed much of what the Capitol did and stood for while sending Volunteer after trained Volunteer into the Games.

It came down to one word: community.

Community was everything in Four, and to Neptune Akoya. A deep distrust of government was instilled in her early, and a commitment to her District was similarly taught. After all - when the government eventually fell, District Four would have to take care of District Four. No one else would, and no one else could. This truism permeated through Neptune’s entire life. Whether that meant sharing her daily catch with a neighbor who didn’t fare as well, leaning on her family when she was injured on the boats, or training from birth to enter the Hunger Games, Neptune was solely focused on bettering the place she called home.

Yes, the Hunger Games were an integral part of District Four culture. Where Districts One and Two saw fame and glory, and many of the outer Districts saw tyrannical punishment, District Four saw them as a golden opportunity. Anytime Four brought home a Victor, that meant abundant food and resources for the District for a full six months. That was six months of time that could be spent shoring up for the next famine, or spent rebuilding walls and roads, or delving into the vibrant arts that District Four could create when taken care of. It meant that every citizen of Four was fed - not just those who could feed themselves. In short, winning the Games was the ultimate way to care for your community. And that wasn’t all; even entering the Games allowed for anyone in your District to take tessarae without fear and without shame. By Volunteering, you told the entire District, “I have your back. I support you.” 

And so, Neptune trained. She entered the Academy at a young age, fully prepared to lay down her life for the betterment of her community. After all, everyone died. If not of old age, then of the violence of the state. If not by the violence of the state, then the chaos of the ocean. If not the chaos of the ocean, then something else altogether - so what better way to let her community know they were loved than by offering herself to bring them the resources they needed? She felt comfortable killing; after all, the fish gave its life for her to feed her. The seaweed dried out in the sun made her fabrics. And every Victor that Four brought home came with it a District partner who had laid their life down for the community. All beings ceased eventually, so if it was by her hand, so be it. She could thank them for their aid, since every Tribute that died meant she was closer to enriching her entire District. What was 23 lives compared to the thousands back home?

Neptune trained for all of her youth in the Academy, perfecting weapons, staying fit, and maintaining her commitment to Four. However, it was simply never meant to be for her. Each cycle, a different pair was selected by the committee to represent the fishing District. And that was okay. That was part of all of it - serve her role as best she could until she was needed elsewhere. And at age 25, she graduated from the Academy and moved on to a different type of career. She returned to the coast to support her family - all fishermen. Her strength served her well on the boats out in the deep ocean, where the Akoyas fought big game like tuna and marlin.

Neptune found the love of her life on those boats: a fishmonger named Tetra. She was bookish and small, but gruff and hardheaded - the perfect balance to Neptune’s measured patience and grace. They met as Neptune brought fish to the market where Tetra was buying. She was the first person Neptune ever argued with, and from that moment she knew there was no one else who could rile her up that way. (At least, that’s the story Neptune told. Her family would disagree about the arguments).

For fifteen years, Neptune and Tetra built a life together. Hosting neighbors, attending to the home, keeping each other sharp and comfortable. Over the years, they did what they could to resist the Capitol, by shorting fish shipments, adjusting books to hide money away, by storing weapons on their fishing boat. But all beings came to an end. If not by old age, then by violence of the state. If not by the state, then by the chaos of the ocean. And sometimes, those lines were blurred.

Tetra had joined Neptune on a fishing voyage, as she often had over the years. A storm picked up, as it often did. And the boat capsized, as it sometimes does. What was odd, however, was the small explosion in the hull - where there was nothing that could explode. What was odd was the way neighbors seemed unable to reach them, even with their vessels designed for rescue. What was odd was Tetra, who could swim like the best of them, being too close to the blast when it happened. No one would be able to prove foul play, given the noise of the storm and the fact that the boat was now at the bottom of the ocean. But when Neptune was finally pulled onto a rescue craft, exhausted from trying to find Tetra, she knew in her heart that something was not right. Tetra’s body was never recovered.

All beings came to an end, as Neptune knew. But this event only spurred her on further, organizing and supporting the rebel cause. And then the announcement was made: the age restriction was to be lifted - and Neptune knew in her heart what she needed to do. There were young ones who felt prepared to go into the Arena, but that was not their fate. There would be other times for them. Neptune knew this was her chance to fully commit to the cause. Get in, win the Games, and bring back six months of prosperity to the District. After all, she had trained her entire life for this moment.

And all beings came to an end, anyway.

Trained, motivated, dedicated to the cause

Mellow, calculated, emotionally walled

Token: Tetra’s wedding ring

PENNED BY: M

[wormdramafever]

Turkish vg site Mavi Kol just released a review of Goodbye Volcano High!!

By Kaan Gezer.

Some translated highlights:

Conceptually, the idea of the end of the world can cause many reactions, especially among young people. No matter how you react, it's nice to see the ambiguity and variety of emotional responses within Goodbye Volcano High. My favorite reaction to this news was Trish's. Trish is currently struggling with the choice of whether to prioritize her own happiness or her best friend's happiness. Finally, she realizes that this decision is not binary. It's interesting to see her switch between being excited about her future and being baffled by the other characters' lack of consideration for the consequences of this end-of-the-world event. [...] The story of the Goodbye Volcano High game progresses through the themes of inclusivity, trauma, tunnel vision and friendship. Inclusivity permeates the entire game, with a non-binary protagonist and several trans characters; we do not see concepts taken lightly or clumsily discussed. While the primary group has no issues with how each other are represented and is fairly consistent in how they address their friends and respect their decisions, there are hints throughout the game that this is not consistent among the adults. Sage, a transgender character, complains that although his family was initially accepting, they did not take hisr transition very seriously. [...] Similar to the example I gave above, Fang's parents still use his/her pronouns as they wish and even prefer to use his/her deadname. These issues are not the central conflict, but help elevate the stories and conflicts surrounding them. No conflict is isolated, and Goodbye Volcano High does a good job of keeping things connected. On the other hand, the look of the game is truly timeless. Simply put, the character art is gorgeous. Each character's actions show you who they are, but the character art brings everything to life. [...] Perhaps unsurprisingly, the music is pretty good. I've loved video game performers for a while now, thanks to games like We Are OFK and Night in the Woods, and I think Worm Drama group's performances definitely place them alongside video game group royalty. It is a pleasure to listen to the game music alone, composed by Dabu, the composer of the developer KO_OP team, and complemented by the song performances of Lachlan Watson and Brigitte Naggar. My favorite songs are Don't Call and Pretty Heroes. Moreover, the performances and song choices in the game not only fit the story perfectly, but also enhance and elevate the rhythm of the story.

9/10 !!!

[asimperingswannsong]

Larissa’s Reluctant Romance

Part 2 of my shitposting a wildly inappropriate pairing just to amuse myself

Characters: Larissa/Wednesday

Summary: Wednesday’s efforts continue. Larissa’s reluctance intensifies. I was chastised by Tumbr for my failure to paragraph correctly but I still couldn’t be bothered.

———————————————————————

Over the next few days Larissa was confused as to how to proceed with Wednesday. Their regular interactions continued unchanged with Wednesday providing polite but blunt responses to her general inquiries; nothing new there. She was behaving as though she hadn’t appeared in Larissa’s bedroom in the middle of the night to confess her love for her. It made Larissa feel uncertain. She tried to return the necklace to Wednesday a few times by placing it in her room while she was in class, but it continued to return to her bedroom when she wasn’t looking. She changed the locks, added a deadbolt, and still it returned to her. Aside from this game of back and forth, there were no obvious changes in their relationship.

Eventually, Larissa decided to hang on to the necklace for safe keeping. She could always return it to Wednesday at a later time when she realized the error in her ways. She had begun to put the matter entirely out of mind when Valentine’s Day arrived. Larissa didn’t hate Valentine’s but seeing as how she’d been single since the dawn of time, she did make a concerted effort to stay buried in paperwork within her office to avoid most of the lavish displays of affection between hormonal teenagers, and to some degree, members of her staff. With that in mind, she returned from breakfast and entered her office. She was stopped immediately by the sight of seven dozen roses dotted around the room in beautiful vases. There was an expensive looking box of chocolates on her desk. There were no notes and no cards anywhere, but she had a good idea who might be responsible. Her suspicions were confirmed when she stepped into her quarters to discover a massive centerpiece of star gazer lilies and even more roses dominating the middle of her dining table. She started to be annoyed, but then the beautifully sweet aroma of the arrangement hit her and she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed a small smile to settle on her lips. No one had ever done anything like this for her before, and for a brief moment, it felt really really nice. Then she opened her eyes and realized how difficult it would be to explain away so many flower arrangements to inquisitive students and staff who might stop by any moment. She returned to her office, gathered up five of the seven arrangements, and lined them up along the dresser in her bedroom. She placed the remaining two on either side of her desk and decided if anyone asked she’d claim she did it herself. A girl can buy herself flowers surely. She placed the chocolates in her desk drawer, and set about her usual day of paperwork. She wrestled periodically throughout the day with how she should address this with Wednesday. She also periodically throughout the day found herself breathing deeply and enjoying the novelty of having the scent of fresh flowers nearby. It put her in an oddly pleasant mood. When she finally finished her emails that evening, Larissa stood up, removed her heels with two small kicks, took the chocolates out of her desk, made her way into her quarters barefoot. The scent of the lilies and roses followed along behind her as she entered the kitchen where she surprised herself by opting for cognac instead of her normal glass of red. When she entered her bedroom with chocolates and drink in hand the scent of five rose bouquets in such a small enclosed space was intense. It permeated her senses. She stretched out on her bed and languidly enjoyed her drink and the chocolates. After awhile she decided on a whim that she’d like a soak in the tub. She refilled her glass, grabbed a few candles, filled the tub, dropped in a bath bomb, and stepped in. Once she was enclosed in the warmth of the water she reached behind her and cracked open the window just a touch. A chill breeze slipped in and with it the sound of Wednesday’s cello. Larissa smiled, closed her eyes, and rested her head on a towel she’d rolled up behind her. The next day she was determined to talk to Wednesday. This was not the sort of relationship a student and educator should have. She’d indulged herself yesterday, but this really did need to stop. The trouble was, she had to find Wednesday before she could talk to her. She spent the next few days unsuccessfully trying to pin her down. Eventually when she finally did have a talk with Wednesday, the gifts had been supplanted in her mind with Wednesday’s latest act of mayhem. She’d evidently found and attempted to tame a scorpion that had escaped from her bag and nearly frightened the English teacher, an elderly werewolf with a horror of all things creepy and crawly, to death. It had also caused several students to either escape or take up position on desk tops. Wednesday watched with

pleasure the sway, snap, bounce, and turn of Larissa’s hips as she paced back and forth while reprimanding her for nearly causing her teacher a cardiac arrest. Eventually, Larissa finished and Wednesday apologized for her oversight. She begged her leave and exited before Larissa remembered her original intention. They once again resumed their normal roles with one another. Days passed; weeks. A three day weekend for Memorial Day approached and Larissa was looking forward to a small road trip to a neighboring town with one her favorite dress shops and a really good Thai place. She stepped into her apartment Friday afternoon and discovered two small parcels on the table above her overnight bag. She opened the first and found a beautiful Hermes scarf that just happened to coordinate perfectly with the outfit she’d planned. The second package contained a bottle of jasmine and sun rose eau de parfum. She glanced up and saw Wednesday making her way across campus toward the lake. She grabbed the gifts and made her way outside. She located Wednesday on a bench reading a book of poetry next to the water. Wednesday looked up on Larissa’s approach and scooted to the side to make room for her. Larissa took a seat next to her. “Good evening Principal Weems.” “Good evening Ms. Addams.” “I found these items in my quarters, would you happen to know anything about them?” “I may.” Larissa sighed before continuing. “Setting aside your repeated comings and goings within my apartment for a moment, I’d like to address the inappropriateness of these gifts.” “What do you mean?” “Wednesday, these two items alone are worth several hundred dollars. That is not the sort of thing you should be doing for your principal.” “Did you admonish Alister Sloan in this manner?” “What do you mean?” “Alister Sloan.” “I remember him.” “I saw the $1,500 Mont Blanc pen he gave you while he was busy waving it around in front of his friends first.” Larissa rolled her eyes at the memory. “That was different.” “How so?” “He wasn’t buying me gifts as a romantic gesture. He just had the mistaken belief that his family’s money would allow him an exemption from the rules, a belief he got from his father who behaved in exactly the same way.” “Did you admonish him.” “No, but I did attempt to return it to him as he was leaving. He didn’t take it because he was too focused on creating as large and dramatic a scene as possible during his exit. I threw his pen in the bin.” Wednesday smirked briefly at that. “Did you just smile?” “No.” “I think you did.” Larissa nudged her gently with her elbow. Wednesday turned her head suddenly interested in studying the far side of the lake. They sat in silence for a few moments. “I can’t accept them Wednesday.” “I thought you might enjoy them on your weekend away. I did not intend to cause you discomfort. I will take them back.” Wednesday picked up the gifts, stood, and walked away. Larissa felt a pang in her chest. She felt she’d hurt Wednesday’s feelings. She’d obviously put thought into the items, but Larissa was anxious to maintain the professionalism of student and educator with her. Wednesday had always been a struggle for her. She’d had strong feelings for her from the beginning because of Morticia and Gomez and she couldn’t always define exactly what those feelings were. Later, as Larissa opened her bag to unpack, she found a volume of poetry entitled Blue Iris by Mary Oliver. Inside was a neatly written inscription: ‘I bought this used for $7.00 and I felt that any gifts with a monetary value under $15.00 qualified for exemption under the rules. Enjoy your trip. W—‘ Larissa smiled at the thought of Wednesday finding yet another loop hole to wiggle through. She sat the book aside and continued unpacking.