#sector one

[wordstro]

[3] sector one: post-apocalypse au + mingi + "you're safe in sector one."

a/n: 3.4k words, gender neutral reader, mingi x y/n, post apocalypse/dystopia typical violence, baker!yn

part 2 | series masterlist | part 4

-

you'd gotten up extra early the next morning, the morning chill creeping under your skin as you wrapped your arms around you. You walk through dewy grass, arriving upon the main building. sector one was built by hand and you could tell. the wooden structures were put together rather shoddily, but they held up and joy had a team constantly repairing and working on the buildings, making them stronger. the sleeping quarters were built in the back of sector one's walls, right next to the commune's meeting rooms. one of the meeting rooms is used as a daycare-slash-school-room of sorts, where the children too young to contribute elsewhere would spend their days. it was filled with old toys and books and colorful chairs. the normalcy of that room alone often made you want to bury your face in your hands and sob. you avoided that room often. it felt unsafe, for a child to grow up in a world like this, or even worse, be born into it.

the other room was curtained off and used as the medical bay. joy showed it to you briefly, and it seemed well-stocked, but incredibly understaffed. sometimes, there was a line of people waiting to see a medic, and the line would go out the door.

joy's quarters sat separately down a side hallway, away from the noisy children and the people lingering in the medical bay hallway. it reminded you of the little managerial offices your bosses would clack away on a computer at during your restaurant jobs back Before. she had an open door policy and everyone called her little sitting room the counsel room.

as you step into the side hallway, you can see that joy's door is cracked open. so you knock once before slowly letting yourself in. joy is leaning over her wooden desk, pouring over a map laid out across the huge table. you recognize it immediately as a map of South Korea, but you don't understand the dozens of red X’s scattered across the map means. joy rounds the table, stepping into your view, and her soft voice echoes throughout the counsel room, "what's wrong, y/n?"

"sorry for interrupting," you say, though you're not sorry, "i'm just...i want to know why you didn’t let me know where we got those chocolate chips from."

joy frowns, "what do you mean?"

"they're from one of the newbies. you should have told me."

you'd spent all of yesterday ruminating over what wooyoung said. sure, he'd was an asshole for his actions, but when it came to precious resources like chocolate chips, it was always finders keepers. it was an unspoken rule, you thought.

"why?" joy continues frowning, her airy voice quiet.

you say, "i wouldn't have used it for everyone then. that's not fair."

joy shakes her head, and her expression grows extremely gentle. kind, even. for some reason, it angers you. she looks at you like you're one of the little children tucked away in the school room, throwing a tantrum because you don't understand something.

"sector one is a commune, y/n," joy says. "everything we bring into these walls is to be shared with everyone."

"i don't think that's fair." you say, flat out ignoring her kind, frankly condescending tone.

joy shrugs, "it's every person for themselves beyond this wall, but if we want to build a healthy community then we need to share our resources. we can't be so individualistic. we must survive for the future of humanity."

she's not wrong, annoyingly enough, but the way joy's eyes soften with her words makes you frown still. you sigh. she won't budge in this, and you still don't want to cause any waves - not with joy. you concede, "i'd appreciate if you tell me where you got it from next time at least."

so you don't get blindsided by another angry newbie next time.

"sure," joy says, and her tone grows an edge to it that is unexpected. almost as if she's holding back an eye roll. you'd done that often with annoying customers back before to catch it in her voice. joy says, "did you want to know where every single bag of flour comes from, too? a map of every neighborhood and every house each team has raided just to find a single can of condensed milk? do you want a debrief of what we found in each of those houses along the way? maybe you want pictures of the families that lived there back Before?"

you blink at her tone, bristling. you did not imagine the contempt, clearly. you should not match her tone or her energy. you've always told yourself to remain calm, to maintain a demeanor that kept you out of trouble, but perhaps staying here has softened your rules for the worst. you bite out in the same politely cutting tone, "if you think it's necessary, then why not?"

joy meets your steady gaze from across the room, and there's a tick in her jaw that you would have missed if you were not looking. she lets out a long drawn out sigh, and says, "it's early, y/n. we'll talk later. and," joy smiles and her gentleness, softness, returns, "i'll consider your request, alright?"

you know what a dismissal sounds like, so you nod and say, "thanks."

~.~.~.~.~

your annoyance grows as you head to the kitchens. you walk past the training grounds - it’s closed off to the rest of the commune by wooden fences that are chest height. the showers are accessible from the training grounds and from the rest of the communes, though you doubt one could call them showers really, since it was just a giant room with a dozen shower heads installed all across one wall and bathroom stalls on the other side. there were allotted times for certain genders and age groups to shower and it was heavily enforced by both joy and the people themselves. it still lacked privacy, nothing but a measly hooks separating each shower head that was meant for you to hang up your own towel for privacy, but it was better than nothing. you'd gone months without a proper shower before sector one so you really could not complain about these, especially because sector one somehow had hot water.

you sigh as you head past the courtyard that held all the dining tables - benches lined up side by side like a picnic camp ground - and through the bustling kitchen. joy was never quite so abrasive with anyone, and you wondered if she'd bristled at your request, or because of something else entirely.

the kitchen is hard at work on breakfast already, the head chef - kyungsoo - shouting instructions over to his bustling aids. the main kitchen is huge, with scratched up industrial steel tables, an oven, and a gas stove with blackened coils. everything is mismatched and broken in some way, but it's all the scavenging crews could find. tiny potatoes are piled in boxes in the far corner. an aid calls, behind you! and you step out of the way as they stumbled past with an armful of canned vegetables. another one follows with a couple large knives. you’d worked with kyungsoo during your first week in sector one, and you did not enjoy it. he was particular about everything, and ran the kitchen like the military. being late was not tolerated, and messiness resulted in punishment - usually hand washing the dozens upon dozens of dishes after meals, and getting more water from the wells. he'd despise the way you ran the baking kitchen, and you knew that was why he never crossed the line to your kitchen unless absolutely necessary. kyungsoo was also awful at baking, apparently.

kyungsoo tips his chin in your direction and you wave back before you slip into the back hallway, kyungsoo's shouts and the banging of pots and pans echoes behind you. the dark hallway is used as storage for both your kitchens, and serves as a small pathway leading to your bakery. there are a decent amount of flour bags lined up along one wall, and some small containers of cooking oil on the other. cooking oil is a precious resource these days and the main kitchen had priority over yours when any food hauls came in, so you often had to improvise with your recipes to substitute oil. sugar, though, was the hardest to replace, and often you had to look for natural sugar alternatives, or worse, go sugar free until the next food haul.

the lights to the bakery are on. you wonder if yeri arrived early to prepare all the dough left to rise overnight. unlike kyungsoo's kitchen, you did not get very many assistants assigned to your kitchen. it was a small space, and bread was really deemed the most necessary of baked goods that came out of your kitchen. everything else is a luxury. a treat.

you are startled when you step into the kitchen, and you're greeted by a deep grunt in response. that is certainly not yeri.

you pull your knife that you keep hidden at your hip - you cannot help it - spinning in the direction of the grunt.

you blink.

mingi has both arms up in the air in a placating manner, his eyes wide. he tries to make himself look less threatening but his height does not help.

"shit, sorry," you say, dropping your arm to your side, sheathing the knife quickly.

mingi shakes his head as he slowly lowers his arms. he says, "you're better with a knife than fists."

you frown at him. he cracks a small smile. it lights up his face, though you notice his smile does not reach his eyes. you've seen it quite a bit in everyone's faces, the dim look in their eyes, but his eyes are something else. something sallow. broken, maybe, like cracked bread or all those crushed picture frames you'd seen since the world went to shit or the way your heart shattered when you left your parent's house for the last time.

mingi peers around the kitchen, and you break the silence first, shaking yourself from your thoughts, "why are you here?"

he says, "i've been assigned to help here."

his deep voice helps expel your spiraling thoughts. broken eyes are common these days. nothing was worth fixing unless it helped you survive, especially people.

"really?" you ask, surprised. kyungsoo hinted a while back (with infuriatingly gleeful audacity) that your kitchen would only get one kitchen aide, and you and yeri had grown resigned to the fact.

"i used to work at a bakery back..." mingi trails off, shrugging, "i guess someone told joy."

the way his voice curls around someone makes you think mingi knows exactly who told joy. he's nonchalant still, unbothered in a way that makes you wary. where yeosang is guarded and, frankly, angry, mingi is calm and unbothered. you don't know which is worse. one put his cards out on the table right away, and the other felt like a mysterious ticking bomb.

"you have more experience than me, then," you say, laughing a little as you grab two aprons from the hook beside the counter. you toss him one, and he catches it easily.

mingi shakes his head, "i was just a cashier."

"even better," you say, tying off your apron, "my head baker position is secure."

a beat of silence passes between you both as you pull out dough left to cool in the fridge overnight by yeri during your day off.

then, mingi says, voice soft, "for now."

you look up at him. mingi grins once more, and his face is softer, his shoulders less stiff. you can't help but laugh. his grin grows a little wider.

you think mingi is easy to like. that makes you a bit wary.

~.~.~.~.~

you can't sleep. it's difficult to ignore what night brings, even if you are supposed to be safe in sector one.

nights are always quiet in sector one. days are often filled with chores, and the hustle and bustle of getting things done. the older compound members would sit under one of the three shade structures built along the three walls of sector one that did not hold the training, dining, and kitchen facilities, the canopies made of mismatched wood and plastic, sandbags holding the posts down, and they would weave baskets, sandals, plates, and other necessities, or scrub laundry. your first few months, you found the way they hollered at each other or howled in laughter jarring. but now, it was comforting. stronger able-bodied folks would carry pails of water in from the wells, or spend time in the greenhouses and gardens. the scavenger teams and patrol parties would walk with purpose, busy whispering to each other of their plans. an occasional child would run about, weaving through groups of people and kicking up dirt and grass. it was overwhelming when you'd first arrived. especially with how quickly the atmosphere changed as night approached.

once the sun set, everyone retreated back to their quarters. there was a large common room, with couches and ratty cushions and board games missing half their pieces and unfinished puzzles on the floor, and the hallways to the individual bedrooms and family rooms were lit up with dim torch lights, but conversations remained hushed, and no one dared to step outside. despite joy's promises, despite the fact that sector one truly did seem safe from the black fog and whatever lurked outside at night, everyone remained cautious, quiet.

perhaps, it was indication enough that the survival instincts from beyond the wall still lived on in these people. it made you feel less strange for still being wary. but the switch from lively to dead silence made it difficult to sleep.

this particular night, you wander outside the common room. oftentimes, you would not be the only one sitting quietly in the common room. a pretty boy with dark freckles and kind eyes always sits in the corner and reads under dim candlelight. he never says anything to you, and you to him, but you find his presence reassuring.

tonight, however, you step outside. the boy looks up from his book as moonlight douses him. he frowns, opens his mouth, but does not say anything. you shut the door quietly behind you, the wooden door clicking shut softly.

it's cold outside, and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. it feels as if there are eyes on you - there very well might be. whatever attacked humanity, whatever hung between the moon and stars and caused the black fog and horrible screams at night, is probably watching you walk around like a goddamned idiot.

you clutch your sweater closer as you pass by the training fences.

the grass slopes off into a short hill, that leads down to the courtyards and the kitchens. at the top of the small hill sits a familiar figure. he is awash in moonlight, and his pretty features are almost ethereal like this. he's staring up, presumably at the moon.

you still don't have the guts to follow his gaze. he's brave. you've looked up at it once, just briefly, and you still remember the tiny reflective silver objects flitting in and out between the clouds, darkening the whites of the moon. you still remember the way your stomach sank at the sight, as if your instincts knew there was something very, very wrong. it was a deep-rooted, evolutionary fear that curled under your bones and never really left you.

a burning ember sets yeosang's face ablaze, orange mixing with white moonlight. the smell of cigarette smoke is strong. you didn't know those still existed.

he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes widening slightly at the sight of you before he looks away as if he is disappointed.

you step closer, plopping down uninvited next to him in the grass.

yeosang rests his hands on his folded knees, the cigarette burning out between you both. one of his knees are shaking.

after a moment of silence, yeosang speaks.

"sorry for being a dick earlier," yeosang mumbles, "and for disappearing."

"thanks," you say, fixing your gaze on the gates straight ahead. "appreciate the apology. appreciated the silence a bit more though."

yeosang snorts as he sticks the burning cigarette in a patch of dirt, grinding the end until the orange ember sputters out.

you look at him. yeosang looks tired. you say, "can you tell your friend wooyoung to apologize though? he beat me up because of you and a bag of chocolate chips."

yeosang laughs then, and the sound is unexpected. it's pretty. softer than his walls. "wooyoung is an idiot."

"that doesn't excuse him trying to dislocate my arm."

"yeah," yeosang mutters, frowning suddenly, "it doesn't. i'll tell him."

the silence afterwards is tense. you have no idea why. you want to ask, but you also don't care to know.

suddenly, yeosang says, "i heard mingi is helping you now."

"yeah," you say, "he said he used to work at a bakery."

"i met him there."

you raise a brow, "oh, back Before?"

"no, during the Invasion," yeosang cranes his neck as he peers up at the moon. you don't dare to follow his gaze. he says, "mingi killed someone who tried to kill me. was still wearing his apron and everything."

he speaks so casually, as if that day is not still a sore spot for nearly everyone you've ever met.

"you've been together ever since?"

yeosang nods.

you can't help it when you ask, "how?"

yeosang frowns at you, "what do you mean?"

how were you meant to explain that with longevity comes attachment? that survival in this world meant to remain detached, and therefore protected? that you thought him ridiculous for judging the way these people coped when he clung to mingi for so long you were sure he'd lose his mind if something ever happened to the other man? that level of commitment was insane to you. maybe yeosang was not brave, but rather insane, and that was why he could so easily look at the moon.

yeosang's eyes flickers between yours, waiting for a response. you shrug, "i don't know. i've just never stuck around with the same people for -"

a loud screech cuts you off. it's clearly from beyond the walls, triggering a chorus of shrill bird caws and the rustling of leaves. the keening sound is piercing, and you wince. you've heard that sound often when you were beyond the walls, when you were holed up in a stranger's home or some abandoned shed.

yeosang jumps to his feet, bristling like a startled cat, his gaze fixed in that direction beyond the walls.

then the keening abruptly stops, the same way symphonies stop with a conductor. the same way screams stop when someone puts a hand over the person's mouth. you'd seen that once, with one of the groups you'd left after just a few hours.

the silence afterwards is utterly engulfing. the crickets do not chirp. the breeze does not blow. it is as if the world has stilled, and even a single breath or a single twitch of your fingers will bring whatever was beyond the walls back.

you open your mouth. you want to say something, but you are struck once more by that primal fear, the kind that has every cell in your body begging for you to run.

grass crunches behind you, the softest sound turned into a blaring horn in the silence.

you spin, knife in hand. yeosang's head snaps over his shoulder.

joy stands illuminated by torchlight, soft yellow-orange lighting up her rounded features.

she's staring at both of you, eyes flickering back and forth, back and forth.

you say, "did you hear that?"

joy holds the torch higher, and she says, "it's nothing to worry about."

you glance over at yeosang, and he frowns, but he doesn't say anything. your heart slams against your ribs, still injected with fear.

"we're safe in sector one," joy says gently. "there's nothing to worry about. just breathe, y/n."

her voice is soothing enough. you let yourself breathe.

joy gestures back to the sleeping quarters, "you both should go inside."

"okay," yeosang says after a beat of silence. "fine."

joy's smile is reassuring, but her eyes are fixed above your head. behind you.

"everything is fine," joy says, once more. "you're safe in sector one."

[rocketbirdie]

fateful encounter

[nobllite]

Pov: Ramattra is done with your... 'nonsense.'

[philsmeatylegss]

I will never fear undocumented immigrants anywhere near as much as I fear Republican law makers. And that is something that will never change.

[mithrilwren]

Guess who's officially employed after six long months of searching!! Woo!!

[blondieart]

What that mouth do?? 🦊🐺🩷

[velvetjune]

Talk to the Plants | Control

[morrithal]

[kaiko127]

This chicken was commissioned by @missing-sector

If you’d like your own, check out my Twitch! (link in pinned post)

[wordstro]

[2] sector one: post-apocalypse au + mingi + "it's for my friend."

a/n: 3.2k words, gender neutral reader, mingi x y/n, post apocalypse/dystopia typical violence, baker!yn

part 1 | series masterlist | part 3

-

you liked baking focaccia. dimpling the bread calmed you.

you also liked learning combat. just in case you needed to run. just in case. combat was not as calming as the hours you spent baking, but it was important. complacency would be dangerous, and that thought remained a nagging voice at the back of your head.

for weeks now you attended ms. hyori's combat training sessions on your days off from the bakery, but ms. hyori had an accident where she'd slipped from one of the watchtower ladders and broke her ankle so she's been stuck on sewing duty - she hated it, if her constant, very loud groaning that could be heard throughout the compound was anything to go by.

unfortunately for sector one, the medic was a temporary replacement after the previous one had died on a medical supply run, and sector one still had not found a medic with actual working medical knowledge. this had been a problem since before you'd even entered sector one. unfortunately, training people who spent years spent within the walls of sector one with a measly tattered medical textbook only created a group of medics that could treat nothing worse than cuts, scrapes, and sprains.

injuries such as hyori's were treated mostly with bandages and strict rest orders to ensure that they healed properly; at least this was what yeri had told you the other day as you both worked on a round of focaccia bread from possibly expired yeast scavenger crew three found near a rundown gas station. broken bones often did not heal right before the Invasion; you could not imagine dealing with one now.

when you arrive at the training grounds, everyone else is already discussing who would replace ms. hyori, their hushed voices mixing with the early morning chirping from the birds. despite everything, nature kept on, and you always figured that was how the end of the world would go. hearing it and seeing it firsthand, though, was still jarring.

"morning, everyone," joy's soft, airy voice fills the training grounds. though she isn't loud, her voice echoes, and it seems to capture the attention of everyone instantly. even the early morning birds get quieter. joy strides to the front, people stepping aside to make room for her. there were two people trailing behind her.

joy has a bright smile on her face, her eyes sparkling, as she turns to face the group. the two unfamiliar people at her shoulders - one tall and the other shorter, but both angular, made rugged by their days beyond the wall, no doubt, with matching knitted brows, watchful eyes, and an air to them that you knew meant they were New - merely loomed behind her, like a brewing storm.

joy gestures to the two men beside her. the tall one towers over her, a looming figure with a quiet, intense aura. somehow the shorter one is scarier, his features sharp. he looks like the type of man that would have been casted in a television show about gangs.

the tall one, though terrifying in his height and stoic demeanor, appears almost docile in nature, gentler, in comparison. he keeps his distance from joy, you notice, but his eyes flit over the class attendees, lingering on each of you as if he is making mental notes in his head. he is rightfully wary, but he did not seem explosive or impulsive, which was hard to come by in this new world where many attacked first and asked questions last.

"as you may have already heard, hyori is out indefinitely until she's fully recovered. luckily for us, a couple newcomers have enthusiastically agreed to help with combat training during this time slot."

joy waves at the two men. neither of them look remotely enthusiastic.

"hyori has given them her approval, so i'm sure they'll do great. everyone, meet san," joy gestures to the shorter, sharp-featured man. his name suited him, his demeanor jagged like a mountain. joy turns, craning her neck to look up at the tall man, smiling brightly as she points at him, "and mingi. i know you all have things to do, so i won't keep you any longer. i hope you all treat each other kindly. san, mingi, if you need anything you know where to find me."

joy waves as she leaves, her personal guard following behind her. you stare at the two men.

mingi. back Before you would have thought this was merely a coincidence, but the world was truly small nowadays so coincidences no longer existed, at least not with names. this had to be that mingi. chocolate chip mingi. yeosang's friend.

yeosang comes by at least three times a week to request pastries. it was not the norm, really, and the kitchen head often looked down upon such a thing, but you allowed it. you liked the company, and he seemed more relaxed with each visit. it fascinated you, watching him open up to you so slowly. unfortunately, you didn't have chocolate chip cookies, as that last bit of chocolate chips was devoured quite quickly by dinner time the very same day you met yeosang, but you you still referred to yeosang's friend as the chocolate chip man. yeosang's friend who was named mingi. who is here in front of you. you you could finally put a face to.

yeosang never really bothered to bring mingi around.

"i swear you only come around here so you can get first dibs on any fresh batches," you muttered after you swatted yeosang's hand away when he tried to pick at a scone you'd just pulled from the oven.

"it's for my friend," yeosang said, "he's sad."

"yeah, yeah, yeah," you'd rolled your eyes, "i'm starting to think this sad chocolate chip man isn't real."

yeosang had laughed, but he did not say anything to refute your half-assed joke. you still gave him an extra scone before shooing him away from your kitchen.

you'd started to think you might have liked yeosang's company.

most importantly, you started to think his friend did not exist. perhaps yeosang needed company himself, and had no idea how to ask for it. you understood that need; you've had plenty of newcomers linger in your kitchen in search of someone to listen as they rambled on and on. yeosang mostly lurked in your kitchen in silence though. so clearly, this mingi was not real.

except now you know he is very much real.

mingi's eyes meets yours over a few heads, and you find yourself quickly looking away first, shuffling from foot to foot as you focus your attention on san. you feel as if you know him, when he likely has no idea who you are.

"...start with a few simple stretches and then i want you to show me your defensive st..." san's voice drones.

~.~.~.~.~

the rest of the session is quick, and on par with hyori's level of skill, though san and mingi clearly lack her positivity. san does not smile once, and mingi did not speak. somehow, san's intimidating, piercing stares and one-worded corrections as he walked around the training field is motivating though, because the class seemed much more serious this morning than you've ever thought it'd be.

when you first arrived at sector one, the disregard in everyone's demeanor had put you off. it was disconcerting, to think that you'd spent so long living in constant vigilance, while everyone here treated important things such as combat training like it was a boxing class at a local gym.

even after so much time in sector one, the nonchalance still bothered you. you could not shake the fear and anxiety, despite everything. san's stoic demeanor brings with it a sense of urgency in the other members of sector one that you often did not see. perhaps it was more present in those who did supply runs or worked outside the wall, but not in classes like this. it's as if his wariness is contagious.

where san is stoic, his directions short and his patience shorter, mingi does not say a word. he merely taps on shoulders, taps at incorrect points in someone's form, and demonstrates the correct form over and over until the person understands. he certainly has patience, and his presence draws command, despite his inability to speak. you find your eyes drifting to him, even as you try to keep your focus on san.

after class, you sit sprawled in the grass, fanning yourself. the sun has gotten hotter over the last few days, and sweat drips down your back at the simplest of tasks.

san and mingi are talking quietly as the other sector one training session attendees disperse. you didn't think mingi could speak, but it seemed he could, but he chose not to.

"hey, mingi, san!" a familiar voice calls. yeosang appears, waving at mingi and san. so, this is chocolate chip mingi. "do either of you want to -"

yeosang cuts himself off when san walks away mid-sentence, disappearing into the shower rooms at the edge of the training field. he did not look back or acknowledge yeosang. yeosang stares after him, a long look that has you scrambling to your feet, suddenly feeling as if you are intruding on something that was none of your business.

being nosy, though tempting, only spelled trouble, Before and After. besides, the secondhand embarrassment curling at the pit of your stomach as you watched yeosang's shoulders droop and his smile slip from his face was enough to have you scurry to the showers as quickly as you could.

~.~.~.~.~

"it seems this mingi character is in fact very real," you say to yeosang moments after he appears like clockwork at the door of your kitchen the next day.

"what?"

"so it turned out my new combat instructor's name is mingi."

"oh," yeosang nods. "yeah, joy's forced us all to take up hobbies."

there's scorn in his tone as he spits out the last word. you laugh and he scowls at you as you say, "so what does she have you doing?"

"take care of the livestock," yeosang mutters.

"that sounds nice." it did. sector one only had a handful of cattle and chicken, but they were sweet. joy mentioned during your tour that the cattle would not be used for meat unless absolutely necessary, as their manure and milk were more beneficial to the compound. the chicken were used solely for their eggs. it was as if joy was giving you reassurance, as if you were allowed to get attached to these animals if you wanted to, because they would remain. she listed it off as if she'd repeated the same sentiment time and time again.

"well, it's not nice." yeosang rolls his eyes, "it smells like shit."

"sounds like cuddling a cow or two would do you some good, yeosang."

yeosang glares at you, "that is exactly what joy said."

"and now you have a second opinion."

yeosang's glare deepens, but he keeps his mouth shut.

you cut the sourdough loaf in front of you into thin slices. the crunch as you slice into the bread with your dull knife fills the room for a long moment.

"it's so fucking stupid."

you look up at yeosang, "what is?"

yeosang gestures around you both, "all of this. everything is so...nice, and it's fucking insane. how do any of you...why is everyone so..."

yeosang's frown only deepens as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"normal?" you finish for him.

he nods, "it's fucking insane."

you'd thought the same thing, when you were alone in your little cot in your tiny room - it was a little brick room that fit a small cot, a tiny rickety chair, and a scratched up table that you were sure they'd swiped from a school. your clothes were stacked neatly in a woven basket you'd made yourself the first few weeks after you'd arrived. it wasn't much, and you figured the single rooms were so tiny so no one would spend all their time in their rooms - you spent countless nights staring up at the stone ceilings, counting scratches on the brick or missing pieces in the grout, and wondered the same thing. how was this sane? what if the compound was attacked? would anyone be prepared? what if none of this was real, and you'd succumbed to some kind of madness? how was everyone okay with pretending things were normal?

you still wonder the same thing. but the thing is, more often than not you find yourself looking forward to your shifts in the bakery. you watch exhausted smiles stretch across the faces of people - fellow survivors - as they bite into fresh bread or a sweet treat you'd made, and you understand it. it feels like living again. you hadn't had the chance before the invasion, really. everyday, rumors spread of new couples dating. two pregnancies were announced during your time here. it's insane, and you think everyone around you knew it as well. yet you congratulated them anyway. you kept an escape bag under your bed just in case. yet you returned to your kitchen shift like clockwork. you understood it so well. was that naive of you? of all of you?

you wipe your hands on your apron and you say, "why do you come here everyday asking for sweets for mingi?"

yeosang frowns, tone harsh, "why the fuck does that matter?"

you glare at him, matching his harsh tone, "do you think you're the only person in this entire compound that comes here asking for fresh bread or something sweet for a friend? everybody is just trying to cope. is it a little insane? probably, but who the hell are you to judge when you're the same?"

yeosang maintains his scowl, his lips pressed into a thin line. he says, "i don't trust places like this. you're an idiot if you do."

"do you think i do?" you snap back.

yeosang scoffs, "whatever."

you watch as he rolls his eyes, turns on his heels and storms off, a whirlwind of anger, and you wonder if yeosang had a bad experience with settlements like this before. you'd ran from a previous group when they started plans to settle. yeosang did not seem like the type to run from things before they got difficult, at least not the way you did.

~.~.~.~.~

"partner up!" san calls out, clapping his hands as he looks around expectantly. "we're going to practice one-on-one now."

there's been an influx of participants in this particular class ever since last week - likely due to whispers of the new instructors. yeri had mentioned to you how dreamy the newbies were, especially the tall kind medic who she assisted the other day. you did not blame them, really. san is handsome, in an angst-ridden sort of way - a rugged mysterious man whose serious demeanor leaves everyone wanting to know more. mingi was a chiseled handsome, more sad than anything else to you, and, frankly, you found it fascinating how quiet he was. but most of all, you liked that he seemed gentle, like he would not even hurt a fly. his presence made you more comfortable than san's for that reason.

"you're the baker right?" you turn at the voice.

a man with longer black hair, tanned skin, a stocky build, and twinkling eyes crosses his arms over his chest as he peers at you.

you frown, "yeah, i am. why are you asking?"

"let's partner up," he says, ignoring your question. he does not smile as he holds a hand out, though he does keep talking, "i'm wooyoung. i'm new."

you introduce yourself, and his expression twitches. you watch as he settles into a fighting stance, fists in front of his face, legs solid and wide. you settle into your own fighting stance.

san calls for you all to start, his voice ringing through the training fields.

wooyoung says, "so you're the one who's upset yeosang."

he says it more as a statement rather than a question. you blink in surprise. you hadn't seen yeosang since he walked out. you wondered where he was - maybe you even worried a bit - but at the end of the day you and yeosang were not friends, so did it really matter if you checked on him or asked around about him?

"i..." you frown at wooyoung, "he upset himself."

wooyoung's eyes narrow. suddenly he lunges at you. you're unprepared for when he easily side swipes your limp hands and pulls your hands back, shoving you into the ground. you certainly eat dirt. wooyoung lets go of you pretty quickly. you glare at him, "what the fuck was that for?"

wooyoung shrugs, says, "you should have been ready."

you get to your feet, swinging at him as soon as you do, but wooyoung is ready. he's too good at hand-to-hand combat. it pisses you off. he grabs your wrist and twists it until you're turned with your back to him. then he jabs you in the knees and you collapse. he lets go of you, stepping into your view.

you rub your twisted arm, bewildered, "are you serious? is this because yeosang is upset?"

wooyoung hums, "nah that last one was because you used up my entire chocolate chip stash."

before you can say anything, someone clears their throat behind you. wooyoung's flick up behind you and you turn from where you are still sitting on the floor clutching your arm.

mingi looms over you, nearly blocking out the sun. he is a shadowed outline, his chiseled features softened by the shadows he casts. his hands are stuffed into his pockets, and he does not say a word. he just holds out a hand towards you. you take his hand, and he easily hauls you up to your feet.

wooyoung rolls his eyes, "i'm just having a bit of fun."

"you're being mean." mingi says. you startle at his voice. it's a deep rumble, a little raspy. you look between mingi and wooyoung, as they both seem to have a conversation with only their eyes, leaving you to stand awkwardly in silence between them.

wooyoung throws his hands in the air, "whatever, i'll spar with san."

you watch wooyoung stalk away, and all you can think about is that those chocolate chips must have come from the newbies. from yeosang and his friends. why didn't joy tell you when she gave you the bag? all you can think about is wooyoung clearly being pissed at you because yeosang was upset. protectiveness like that was normal these days, though you found such codependency dangerous. you were with a group once who would kill people just for looking at them the wrong way. it was dangerous and strange, and you were never one for codependency, even back before the invasion.

"thanks for that," you say, after a beat of silence.

mingi just shrugs.

the silence lasts another moment before you add, "i'm y/n."

mingi smiles then, even as he says, "the baker."

you nod, unable to help your own smile. his smile is infectious, all gummy and sweet, adding an unexpected charm to his expression. you laugh a little as you say, "yeah, the baker."

[muses-of-the-memory]

Happy 22nd Anniversary, Kids Next Door!

Today marks the 22nd Anniversary to...

Codename: Kids Next Door!

This childhood show I watched growing up taught me how to rebel, stand up and fight against some teens and adults, but not always. Anyway, it has been 22 years since we had seen our five members of Sector V;

Nigel Uno (Numbuh One),

Hoagie Gilligan (Numbuh Two),

Kuki Sanban (Numbuh Three),

Wallabee Beetles (Numbuh Four),

and Abigail Lincoln (Numbuh Five) come together as a team against evil adult tyranny and teenagers, such as Cree Lincoln aka Numbuh 11, Count Spankulot, Grandma Stuffum, Knightbrace, The Common Cold, Stickybeard, Mr, Boss,

the Delightful Children From Down the Lane aka Sector Z and... Benedict Uno Jr. aka

Father!

We must all remember the awesome, and funny times that the Kids Next Door brought to our lives, the origins from Operation Z.E.R.O. (Zero Explanation Reveals Origins) and the finale where Numbuh One left to join the Galactic KND.

Also, this show is where I got the headcanon idea of me being Nigel Uno's successor when he left to join the Galactic Kids Next Door. For my team, I had "The" Tommy slash Numbuh "T" to act as the new Numbuh 2 in place of his big brother, Mushi Sanban for "Numbuh 3" taking Kuki's place, Lucas as the new Numbuh 4, and Cree Lincoln to continue as "Numbuh 5", albeit she aged as a teenager, having knowledge of the Teens Next Door and possibly the Adults Next Door.

So, I will roleplaying as the main cast of Codename: Kids Next Door for today.

Tagged by: @hoshi-neko-hikari, @bluemajingirl, @the-world-hopper, @paragonsoflight, @spirits-of-nature16

[numbuh]

can you tie my shoelaces for me

[dailydccomics]

Sojourner ‘Jo’ Mullein by Jamal Campbell  Far Sector (2020—2021)

[zytes]

ozone

[torra-and-the-toons]

Ok, I’ve been thinking about this request for a while, but have been putting it off.

Could you do a drawing based off the episode L.O.C.K.D.O.W.N? It’s one of my favorites and the vampire designs are generally cool and deserve more attention!

Anyway, enjoy 😋

I'll be honest, the Vampires weird me out but only because of the spanking aspect (and the fact they had to spank a grown man to change back like excuse me??) Their designs are cool as hell though. If they existed without the spanking aspect, they wouldn't weird me out as much.

This might not be quite what you had in mind, but one of my coworkers told me a funny pun that I thought I could use for this very request.

I like to think it's the real reason they were so determined to change back lmao.

[bittsandpieces]

why firefighters gotta be so hot