#she literally has no personality send help

[daeniradraconis]

Banter Between the Lines - Hughes Brothers

Author's Note: Hey, so here’s another quick chat-style piece! I haven’t had much time to sit down and write properly lately, so short and sweet it is for now. 😊 Feel free to send me some requests if you’d like! (You can check out the "rules" here: link). I can’t promise when I’ll get to them, but I’ll definitely find time soon.

Summary: A little fluff with a touch of smut (nothing too crazy, just some extra flirting). Quinn’s girlfriend roasts the boys while calling them out in their group chat.

Warnings: Nothing major, just some mention of 🍆.

It was one of those quiet Sunday nights where everything felt slow. You'd spent the evening catching up on your favorite shows, but it was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was Quinn. The constant distance between you two had become harder to ignore with each passing day, and as much as you loved how happy he was with his team, you missed him. And, truthfully, you missed the whole family.

You’d gotten close to Jack and Luke over the years, and now, with Quinn playing for the Vancouver Canucks and Jack and Luke together on the New Jersey Devils, the family dynamic felt a little more spread out than you liked. Sure, they’d all make time for you when they could, but it wasn’t the same as those days when you’d all hang out together.

Tonight, instead of a call or a quick text, you decided to turn to something a little more familiar. You opened up youtube and searched for their latest highlights.

All three of them were struggling on the ice, and it showed. It hurt to see them like this, especially when you couldn’t do much to help. So you did what you always did in times like these—opened the group chat and prepared to roast them into oblivion. If nothing else, it might make them laugh.

you: just finished your highlights. Quinn, congrats on being the saddest guy on the ice again 🥇. Jack, loved the mini tantrum energy 👏. Luke, did you forget which team you play for? because those turnovers were next-level.

Jack: wow, you really woke up and chose violence.

you: always. someone has to keep you humble.

Luke: humble? this feels more like a personal attack.

Quinn: what would you call it, then?

Luke: bullying.

you: oh, Lukey, don’t take it so hard. I tease because I care 💕

Jack: you literally plotted my ex’s demise last month. is that “caring” too?

you: first of all, it wasn’t a plot. it was more of a… fantasy.

Quinn: putting her in the ground “while she’s still breathing” doesn’t sound like a fantasy…

you: listen, if she hadn’t been such a manipulative little snake, I wouldn’t have had to consider it 🐍

Luke: terrifying. but honestly? fair.

Jack: I could’ve handled her myself, you know.

you: oh, really? because from where I was sitting, she had you wrapped around her finger like a puppet.

Quinn: she’s not wrong!

Jack: whose side are you on?

Quinn: hers. always.

you: damn right honey. and don’t worry, I’m not plotting her demise anymore… unless she tries to come back. then all bets are off.

Jack: remind me to never date again. you’re scarier than Quinn’s slap shot.

You grinned as the banter flew back and forth, but your focus shifted to Luke. His disastrous date still didn’t sit right with you.

you: okay, but seriously, Lukey. I've heard some gossip. how does a girl ditch you mid-dinner? you’re literally the sweetest human alive.

Luke: THANK YOU! finally, someone gets it.

Jack: don’t encourage him. he needs to toughen up.

you: excuse me? let him be sweet! not every guy needs to have your level of 'I’m too cool for feelings,' Jack.

Quinn: valid point.

Luke: thank you, Quinn.

you: honestly, Luke, I’ll never understand how she left. did you say something weird?

Luke: no!!! I was perfectly normal.

Quinn: “normal” is a stretch…

Jack: is this really the same guy who told a girl on a first date he’d make six different accounts just to sort himself into Hufflepuff six different times because he didn’t 'trust the algorithm'?

Luke: OKAY, THAT’S DIFFERENT. I was being honest!

you: oh, Lukey. you’re lucky you’re adorable because that is painful 😂

Luke: this is why I didn’t want to tell you guys.

Quinn: bro, it’s fine. just embrace the awkward puppy vibe. it’s clearly your brand.

Luke: I hate you.

Jack: ugh, why does he get the sympathy? roast him more guys!!! I can’t be the only one taking L’s here.

you: because Luke doesn’t put ketchup on his eggs like a serial killer, Jack.

Luke: yeah, what is WRONG with you? ketchup on eggs? really?

Jack: you people are so dramatic. it’s normal.

Quinn: nothing about that is normal.

you: thank you, Quinn. once again, the only rational person in this chat.

Jack: stop flirting with my brother. it’s disgusting.

Luke: seriously. I can feel the weird vibes through my phone.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to push their buttons.

you: you’re just mad because Quinn’s risotto is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Quinn: best risotto AND lasagna. don’t forget!

you: how could I? it’s the only reason I keep you around. And of course your magic 🍆

Quinn: oh, not my sparkling personality? btw you're objectifying my body...

you: hmm… maybe that too. but i have my priorities straight!

Jack: 🤢 STOP. this is disgusting.

Luke: seriously. this is TMI guys!!

you: just jealous, you two can’t even scramble eggs properly.

Quinn: cooking skills = key to a woman’s heart.

Luke: ugh. golden child strikes again.

Jack: some of us don’t need to cook because we have charisma, thank you very much.

Quinn: does your charisma excuse ketchup on eggs? because it shouldn’t.

Luke: still the biggest red flag in this chat.

Jack: Y’ALL ARE SO DRAMATIC.

You smiled at their bickering, your heart full, untouched by their chaos.

you: okay, but for real… I miss you guys 💔.

Luke: aww, finally some love.

Jack: are you feeling okay?!

you: don’t get used to it. but yeah, I miss you. Quinn, risotto night when you’re home! Jack and Luke, you can come eat it too.

Quinn: deal. but I’m ignoring them for the first hour I’m back. i need my time with you!

Luke: RUDE!

Jack: gross. is this the flirting portion of the chat? can we not?

you: love you too, boys. even if you’re disasters.

Jack: love you too. now stop flirting with Quinn before I puke.

Luke: seriously. save it for your own chat.

Quinn: jealousy doesn’t look good on you two.

Luke: jealous of what? your cooking? maybe. your 🍆? absolutely not.

you: you should be Lukey! your brother got some great 🍆

Jack: I’m OUT.

Luke: same.

Quinn: good job hon. guess it’s just us now. you: just how I like it 😘

[coffeegnomee]

genuinely i think alot of kaboodle's actions on lifesteal can be explained by her scripted lore background. the world of scripted lore is fraught with the idea that "lore" is just... being miserable. it was something that made it difficult for me to get into ksmp (though i did eventually enjoy it), because it felt just so awful all the time. pointless arguments didn't tug at my heartstrings, it made me frustrated. but that's besides the point

i think maybe one of the reasons she takes everything way harder than she should and exaggerates relationships and disagreements is perhaps because she is drawing in past experience to be a good entertainer, in the way she is familiar with. which is so fair! we are formed by our backgrounds. it does unfortunately make it difficult to watch her if you're accustomed to the more ""live action"" sort of format lifesteal is usually in, where people seperate their characters from themselves a little less. but she has a good size audience that seems to fw it, so i dunno

that's just my take on the overuse of the word "betrayal" and such

agree but disagree. yes scripted is usually just being miserable but zam is just miserable all the time and his lore actually makes sense and is very entertaining to watch and he also separates himself from his character (to a degree). but when he is miserable he is consistently miserable while also doing some fun things to distract from the misery or making some impact on the server like cleaning up spawn while being miserable to chat. kab just sits around and talks and does fuck all. sorry. hating. a lot of hating below.

and it's annoying because she is miserable but then will go be fighting her inner demons of destruction, but then won't destroy because she doesn't want to be mean and she cares so much, but then she plans to destroy anyway but then she doesn't do it and doesn't have any consistency in any motivation or characterization and she's all over the place. every hour her emotional state is different and there's absolutely no effort at a throughline and everything before is just thrown out the window.

And it pisses me off that she does come from scripting because surely her characters on ksmp had some throughline and consistency.

and yet her inconsistency on ls does make sense bc in scripted you can plan and succeed with every plan you make when you are literally scripting the outcome.

but on lifesteal you can plan for something cool and fun and it can be taken away in an instant by the very same people you were trying to impress and that is hard and will send anyone into being tilted.

and trying to decide how to react to that is wildly difficult and i dont really envy them having to figure out what to do, but i do wish she would DO something. but that's also unfair because she is doing something, she's rebuilding. but while rebuilding she's going between wanting 4c to help her while also trying to convince him to betray his team while also trying to convince him to give her a heart without a fight while also planning to kill him while also reminding herself she has to be nice to him. so she's just using him. just say it with your full chest. you never cared about him and you just want someone else to do the work to get your own selfish self-pity plan back on the server.

you want to complain and then have someone swoop in and save you. and you dont want to make any effort to actually care about that person.

it's miserably sad and annoying to watch because lifesteal is about caring about people, and she goes on and on an on about caring *so much* but she doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself. and she lies to herself and and chat and insists that she cares.

and yes that's a rather consistent characterization to through at ls!kab but damn if it doesn't read like that at all and she went from genuinely apologizing to 4c to just using him flat out and reminding herself that she needs to use him and cant just kill him.

maybe its just that she's vilely unlikable. maybe that's the point in her scripted mind. make a hatable character. and yet her actions also speak to desperately trying to make a likable character whom youre sympathetic to, she tries desperately to guilt trip and pull at the heartstings about how shes just been betrayed so many times and life is so hard for her and shes so weak and how could you be mean to someone so pathetic and wounded.

but she's not likable at all. she doesnt care about a single other soul or what they care about. the second they put a boundary up she wants to run and leave, which, fair enough, actually a cool characterization of trauma but like also so abusive-coded. but in the end she chose to not abandon bacon as far as we can tell, but i can tell you give it two seconds and that thought will come back and she'll decide to betray him anyway. because nothing is consistent and nothing she says has any long term value. she just goes on the past five minutes to decide what she will do.

she's just so fake and that fakeness can be attributed to the character, but it only feels even more fake because she insists it's a character and not her as she turns around and does something that makes more sense for her to do as herself than the character. she is being two people existing on the same account, swapping out whenever necessary. but that's stupid. take responsibility for your actions and your emotions. stop blaming others.

and yes. it all goes back to how painfully different scripted mcrp is from unscripted.

and i know for damn sure that this will not be like this next season because she will learn from this season. or she doesn't. and that's what's so frustrating. the possibility that she never learns why lifesteal is lifesteal.

the possibility that she keeps writing asshole abusive characters that just get more abusive because of her own internal mental problems that lay unresolved and shoved under the rug like they aren't part of the character even though they are part of herself. she refuses to look at herself and acts like if just just acts hard enough they won't affect anything. they effect everything. you can't run from yourself when you are making unscripted content.

and yes. i am being really mean about someone who clearly has a lot of baggage. yes i am being mean about someone who is abusive as a defense mechanism and hates boundaries because of fear of being alone and all these things that are basically the bully being bullied at home type beat.

but she embraces none of it. doesn't even see any of it. thinks she has written a cute story with kazam, a cute ship that may be a little messed up but is at it's core cute.

it's fucking abusive and shit. it makes my skin crawl. zam is screaming to be let out of it and she thinks it's sunshine and roses. she is, to use the word literally, delusional about her actions. she thinks they are one thing when they are anything besides that.

but we do have one success story. and the trend goes that every lifestealer learns what lifesteal is by their second or third season. they all eventually get it. vi chose to do a very distinct character vs streamer in s4 and he crashed and burned to a degree unfathomable. and he learned from it. and he now says that was his favorite story he ever told. he see's how he's grown as a person because of it.

there is only hope in the future when it comes to kaboodle. lifesteal genuinely changes you and makes you grow. not because you choose to grow, but because it forces it out of you.

but in this moment im just constantly a ball of rage and constantly sent into sadness every time i watch. and she keeps interacting with my mains so im not going to just miss the story, and the progression is already happening, the kablantis shock is a genuinely lifesteal trauma moment for kab and is already changing her in good ways. this is the story, this is part of watching lifesteal. the meta conflict is what makes this server painfully unique. this difficult encounter with players that piss you off. because people in life are like this. people can suck and hurt each other and don't look at their internal mental state, they shove things under the rug and think they're fine and cause sorrow and pain when life gets difficult. that's life. encountering it as story really helps understand the people around you. to be more compassionate, be able to see when theyre hurting and chose to be kind anyway. to learn how to feel the negative emotions and process them and not run from them yourself. or learn how to stick up for yourself and put up your own boundaries and learn that you can. to figure out who you are. it's the best. and the worst. and leaves me hating until i realize it is interesting even though i hate it.

[sailor-hufflepuff]

I’m going to answer in good faith that you are actually curious as to our rationale, and not trolling us.

I never said he saved the world. His priority was, and always has been, to turn Ravka into a refuge for Grisha, so that they had somewhere safe to come.

Two, “expanding the Fold” didn’t mean “plunge the whole world into shadow”. It meant “expanding it into enemy territories as a threat, to get them to stop invading Ravka constantly so the country can get a freaking break.” If he had the power to move it where he wanted to, that gave him leverage to bring other governments to the negotiation table.

Next, in the show we are blatantly shown that Novakribirsk is a military town, at that time mostly filled with a rebel faction that were ready to declare war on Ravka (and also were working with the druskelle to sell Grisha to Fjerda). Were there civilian casualties? Yes. But if that attack prevented a full on Ravkan civil war, then the body count would arguably be worth it.

Stealing Alina’s power was where he really messed up. In him mind, he was basically putting her in time out - he made it obvious that he planned on them eventually being equals, but at that point she was too young and impetuous to be trusted with her powers (especially since she had complained CONSTANTLY about wanting them to be gone). Was it wrong? Yes. Can I see his logic? Also yes. In his mind, the two of them had eternity to figure things out between them, he was just making sure she didn’t screw up his plans in the meantime.

This is where it starts to get complicated. Honestly, nearly ALL of the Darkling’s actions from S&S on are nonsensical, and a total contradiction to everything we know about him before that. The Watsonian explanation is usually that the merzhost he used to survive the Fold after Alina abandoned him there drove him insane.

The Doylist explanation is that the Darkling got popular, and LB got too much push back from the puritanical side of the fandom, so she started making him do All The Evil so they readers would understand He’s The Bad Guy (Really, Don’t Look at the Monarchy).

That being said.

If by “hurt Genya” you mean the scarring in S&S, she was a soldier under his command who actively worked against him in a combat scenario. If you’re referring to her serving in the Grand Palace… that is 100% on the King and Queen, not him.

Attacking Alina’s home and killing her mother-figure (honestly a laughable concept, nothing about Ana Kuya before that implied any such relationship): he was trying to stop Alina. She was fighting a WAR against him, and was the only person with a chance of stopping him.

What should he have done? She’s the one who brought Keramzin into it by sending Grisha there. He didn’t harm the children, whatever he claimed, but he executed her allies.

He is a General. Fighting a War.

Those people he was taking from her? Abusers. Monarchy supporters. Turncoats. In his mind, he was freeing her from their influence. They were the ones holding her back.

Again, I don’t agree with these actions, I think they were not the correct way to handle things - mostly because he SERIOUSLY underestimated Alina’s selfishness and desire to fade into obscurity with Mal regardless of what that meant for the world - but if you remember that these are two military leaders in a war where thousands are dying, and not a YA couple going through a bad breakup…

The logic isn’t hard to understand.

“Heroes” and “Villains” exist in context. If there were someone who was better for Ravka, who helped people and made the world a better place, then yes, he would be an example of an anti-hero becoming a villain in his extremis.

But there isn’t. Literally every other character on the “Hero” side does things just as bad - and usually worse - for the country.

Meaning when you tally the actual outcomes of characters actions, for good or evil… he comes out as the greatest force for good in the entire narrative.

How can you call that person a villain?

Apparently I need to say it again:

While other people may ship darklina because they enjoy seeing the heroine with the villain, I ship them because I DON’T think he’s a villain.

In fact, all things being equal, he did more good for Ravka and the Grisha than all the “heroes” combined.

[cybershock24601]

Something something embarassing Illario in front of all the important houses is the equivalent to an assassination by Nevarra standards so Illgellvar is more or less satisfied. Lucanis complains about some guy who he can't have killed for whatever reason and his darling wife (whos is, idk, fidgiting with skeletal hand) causally suggesting ruining his reputation instead.

Personally my Rook advocated for Illario's imprisonment because they were hyperfocusing on what the political ramification of Lucanis, literally just promoted to First Talon, letting his cousin off with just a slap on the wrist for what essentially amounted for treason in front of the rest of the Talons would be. In short, it would be the wrong message to send to the other Talons as it would imply that Lucanis was weak and wouldn't take appropriate measures to deal with troublemakers which might get people thinking they could take him out to steal his spot as First Talon. I also think my Rook would suggest letting Illario join the final battle and suggest ways to reintegrate him into the crows post canon so Illario isn't stuck on house arrest for the rest of his life. (This is part of the reason that Illario and Rook's in law relationship is so complicated because Rook has fucked him over but has also done a lot to help him)

However that second statement is totally accurate to my headcanons as my Watcher Rook moves herself into Lucanis' office post canon while she works on her thesis (the watch is pretty split on whether to promote Rook to a senior watcher because on one hand she did kill two gods but on the other the more conservative watchers are still pissed about her stunt during the war of the banners so don't want to allow her promotion so Rook decides to become a Senior Watcher the traditional way which is basically writing the mourn watch equivalent to a doctoral thesis so that a) no one can question her qualifications and b) she doesn't have to necessarily be at the Necropolis to do that so she can move in with Lucanis while she works on it) so that the two of them can spend time together while they work. Lucanis is having a meeting with Teia and Viago on how to deal with a troublesome Antivan noble they can't outright kill without causing more problems and Rook who's just sitting in the corner annotating a tome on necromancy and half listening to the conversation just causally throws out the most devious idea to completely ruin the guy so he can never show his face in public again and gets all three Talons looking at her like she has a second head.

When Rook looks up from her reading she wants to know why they're all staring at her like that and they're just all curious on how Rook who is usually very aloof to politics came up with a plan like that to completely destroy this random guy. Rook explains that they used to be apprenticed to a very politically active Mortalitasi in the Mourn Watch (who may or may not be Henzenkoss' ex gf) and just got used to coming up with creative ways to eliminate her mentor's rivals without killing them because murder is not super effective in within Mortalitasi social circles.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Small idea thing may or may not be canon to my story

Yan! Dion agriche x fem! Reader

Arranged marriage

Warnings: slightly implied slight codependent behavior, jealousy, mention of murder attempt(s), mention of past murder, toxic familial (?)relationships, toxic marriage/relationship, some yandere themes probably. Please tell me if I missed any.

NSFW kind of warnings: suggestive and implied dub-con-ish, and definitely a sexually frustrated Dion

Can be read as it's own thing not sure if I'll include this in main story so POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR 'HELP I REINCARNATED AS THE FEMALE LEAD'S SISTER-IN-LAW"

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DON'T INTERACT WITH FANDOM RELATED THINGS DNI

I couldn't get this out of my head and I just needed to share it so bad it was eating me up alive.

==

Lowkey think Roxana would pour affection (platonic) at you just to annoy Dion aka small bouts of revenge once she realizes he has a soft spot for you (aka stealing your time, smiling sweetly at you, maybe even make physical contact via pushing your hair back or the very rare looping her arm around yours as you walk in the garden together. Inviting you to dinner sometimes when Dion returns from a mission, getting in his way of his own little goal of spending time with you. Basically becomes your 'bestie' (she denies she cares about you but we all know that's a lie) and enjoys the glares Dion sends her way whenever you're having fun with her and not him.

And truthfully, despite knowing she's using you for something, you enjoy her company after a while. However, you're unable to fully give in and become essentially a sister to her or a 'bestie' because at the end of the day, she is still Roxana Agriche, an Agriche and general and you genuinely cannot see yourself becoming an important person to her or anyone else, still thinking everything is a test to see if they should dispose of you or not.

And while you're aware your husband has a 'thing' for you or even 'love's' you, he's still an imposing figure, still a man who didn't blink twice at killing his own half-brother and would gladly kill one of his step-mothers just to see Roxana cry. So, really, despite your smiles directed at the blond and your sparse forms of 'affection' to your husband, you don't really accept what they show you. Because at the end of the day, you grew up in two very different environments and you are not meant to be here. Your definition of 'love' is vastly different from their own and while Roxana knows how healthy 'love' is supposed to be, it's been so long since she's received it properly. Meanwhile Dion has a hard time understanding it still.

The story has been changed enough. And you're not sure if it should change some more.

And maybe it's because of that you unknowingly refuse to see just how soft Dion Agriche is with others (no where by much, just by like 00.6% since they're not you. ) had become ever since you entered the scene. Because if you acknowledge it then you'll start to see him as a decent person - everything he is not.

Also Jeremy would literally crash any alone time you have with Dion out of both spite for him (he's too weak to fight him just yet + Roxana probably doesn't want them to fight and he's her #2 fan - Cassis takes 1st place and you 3rd.) And some werid younger brother like affection he has for you.

And Dion would definitely steal you away once the opportunity arises and if they were normal siblings he would stick his tongue out at Roxana but since they're traumatized af they just glare at each other so sharply it could cut skin. Proceeds to awkwardly show you affection that both makes you uncomfortable and feel some pity for him because damn, Maria and Lant are horrible parents. If he acts nice enough he might get a kiss on the cheek before you scamper away otherwise (from experience) a make out session you really shouldn't enjoy breaks out but he still gets cock blocked by someone OR you stop him once his fingers start to undo the strings on your dress or his kisses travel to your neck instead, and his excitement is very much noticeable via his actions and the budge in his pants he doesn't even bother trying to hide. Sure, he's very attractive. However, pushing the fact you're still wary and/or 100-80% scared of him aside, he's big and it hurt badly the first time and you really, really like having working reproductive parts and the ability to walk + your gut tells you that there's a chance he won't stop at one (1) round.

Every night you stay up questioning if you're actually in a coma and not reincarnated.

After all, why else would these people concern themselves with you? Why else would they start to get closer to you? Why else would Dion Agriche proclaim that he's your dog?

[miabrown007]

girl who sucks at making OCs needs to make a DnD character send help

[kwondotcom]

finally, finally built the emotional capacity to annotate something in the orange. on bsk's birthday, i said "the best thing you can do for yourself today is to read this fic." over a week later, it still stands true. this is one of the best pieces of work you will find not only on svtblr, but on the internet as a whole. i believed it then; i believe it now. 🍊 spoilers under the cut.

an anonymous assumption that was made about viv some days ago was whether she has a background as a film major, and her answer was no; she's just recently read the past lives script (lol). could've fooled me. this was a stellar device used for getting into the characters' head and describing them, and the eventual payoff of it just makes the story all the more heart-wrenching. on a more personal note: as a communication major who spent four years writing movie scripts? this shit was good.

the mark of a good apocalypse fic. how deep does the lore go? naming the phenomenon 'the Blight' and establishing it throughout is insane work. the information is bread crumbed. enough to keep you guessing. but in this first paragraph alone— extinction, famine, inflation— the domino effect of everything feels ominous. having seungkwan and the MC discussing [shotgun] marriage afterwards feels like a smoke screen. 'look, the world may be ending, but there is a young couple asking hypothetical questions and falling in love.'

absolutely devastating, by the way. i'm a big believer of love in the small moments, and there's just. something distinctly tender in how this is navigated. the images of walks home, shaky confessions, button exchanges. and the hints of what's happening, what's to come: mild dust storms, a barren world. this is a masterclass in writing, and it is genuinely so insane to me that i am getting to read this for free.

there's much to love in this passage. MC being right about the wires being good for barter. the passages that explain how the camera came to be. and just— all the premise in the world for why their love is so beautiful, how their affection persists. MC being a 'former writer' prepared for the zombie apocalypse is a nice touch.

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] [EXPLOSION] “OH MY GOD” [BABY CRYING] “WAAAHH WAHH” [YELLING] “HELP MEE” [POLICE SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOEOO [YELLING] [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG!!’ [BABY CRYING] “AHFUCKK SOMEONE HELP US” [REPORTER REPORTING]

both of the translations i found absolutely wrecked me. the first translation offers a specific kind of pain. the thought of the newlywed; longing for someone; a crying heart; if he cannot come, i will send my heart instead— after knowing MC is referred to as 'my heart'? and the second translation gives us tears of farewell; the trace of someone; how can old wounds be renewed? i'm a believer that everything is intentional, that nothing is left up to chance, especially when it comes to writing, and viv just bowls you over with the sheer thoughtfulness of a detail like this. i can't even begin to discuss the juxtaposition of a beach ruined by things like plastic and trash vs. bullet shells and shrapnel. the couple then running to be in the water together; the footage, partially obscured? i can't help but wonder how much of this is intentional. we've been privy to their romance so far, but this moment— what might be considered A Last Good Day, even, since this is d-4— isn't even perceivable in its entirety. there is only so much that we can see about their relationship on-/off-screen, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. i compound a couple of later scenes here. direction to hold an image of joy, in a mokpo beach (my god, viv; you are vicious) that is untouched by tragedy; uncertainty of whether the filming was accidental or intentional.

anticipatory loss, only for the loss to be one so unexpected. once again, i'm amazed by the amount of detail in the world-building— how viv outlines the conscription and the emotional aspects of it. how do we even begin to prepare for loss? and how do we live with the knowledge of how much we're about to lose? isn't that just the entirety of life, really? knowing that we are always going to lose one thing or another. in response: we hold things tight. we look, and memorize, and catalogue. it reminds me of the popular quote: "everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it."

i was struck between the eyes by the violence of that act [cutting any scenes], because this very much feels like the crux of reconstruction/memory/narrative. seungkwan is in charge of what will be remembered; how the MC will be remembered. i adore the ambiguity of whether the scenes reflect a stitched-together film or whether we're following along seungkwan's review. equally, there's just something gutting about this playing out in some perverted version of what MC and seungkwan joked about i.e. a world with electricity, where seungkwan had free reign to do what he wanted with all the gathered clips.

not thieves, just travelers. expecting last words and getting the ghost of a kiss instead. your eyes, only ever kind. there is so much to love here, so much to adore in the stylistic, technical sense, but what comes to fore for me is this: viv's respect for the dead/dying. an honorable death in its own right. unjustified, still. devastating, always.

i will be honest. it's nearing 4 a.m. as i wrap this up (annotations were done in non-chronological order lmao), and i feel my coherency waning. i know enough to say that these were some lines that felt like a literal gut punch. the idea that our writer!MC and filmmaker!seungkwan can still nurture creativity. to love and be loved. the thought that MC always smiled at seungwkan over the camera. love. loss. a heart's a heavy burden. and you were seungkwan's heart, weren't you?

i think, in my initial read— struck by grief of the fic lol— i'd skipped over seungkwan's line here. twice as many stars as usual. let's look up together. this scene takes place in a corn field, presumably the night before the Incident. two-headed calves don't survive for very long; most pass away in less than 24 hours, their deformities taking a toll on their lifespan. the poem has always tugged at my heart, because at its core it talks about finding so much hope, and light, and love, in a short lifespan. and is that not the case of seungkwan and MC? twice as many stars. some beauty and peace despite being doomed from the beginning. all any of us have is however long we have.

ending this with two of my favorite poems on grief. a discussion i've had time and time again is whether a person can be complimented on their ability to write grief. is it a insult, to be told that you write about grief well, when it takes an acute understanding of loss to be able to pull it off? i haven't figured that out yet. and so i conclude, instead, with this. grief's familiar rooms and how it reminded me of the scenes wherein seungkwan is rewatching the clips (pulling at its buttons / that are not answers); poem and how, by and by, it reminds me of this gorgeous piece as a whole. i'm changed in inexplicable ways because of something in the orange, and i'm not exaggerating. how lucky are we to be in a time where writing like this is free to read; how grateful am i to exist in viv's orbit, under the same starry skies. the poem story ends, soft as it began, —

something in the orange

summary. remembrance is also reconstruction. reconstruction presupposes loss. a meditation on memory, narrative, and grief. and, of course, love. pairing. boo seungkwan x gn!reader genre/tags. ANGST, (semi-graphic) major character death, interstellar au-ish (just the blight), non-linear narrative, blurred fiction and reality if you squint (sorry I reread goodbye eri while writing), unbeta’d (mistakes are my own) wc. 5k suggested listening. love wins all, iu // 消費期限, seventeen // triassic love song, paris paloma // eight, iu prod. & ft. suga // yawn, seventeen // something in the orange, zach bryan (or niall's cover)

notes. midnight in korea now; happy birthday kwannie! this is very experimental, and admittedly i'm not fully satisfied w it, but I didn't know how to change it atp. sorry boo, it's your birthday but i give you pain. as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

D-17 EXT. SEOUL TRAIN STATION – KOREA – DAWN The sun rises over the ruins of Seoul Station. The air is clear of smoke and fog. A shot of the sun peeking over the heap of steel, glass, and cement that once served as the station’s framing. The train tracks run to the far horizon, to the left and right of the frame. Pan to YOU (young-looking though age is ambiguous, former writer, love of SEUNGKWAN’S life) squinting at an old, battered map of Korea’s train lines, and a compass. You’re wearing battered jeans that are slightly too big, boots, and a sturdy leather jacket. Behind the camera, SEUNGKWAN (male, young-sounding though age is ambiguous, former video producer) narrates.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         BOO-log number 529. We’re now figuring out how to get to Mokpo. Neither of us are any good with directions, but my partner decided that we could try following train lines since the none of them are running anyway. You look up at the sound of his voice, noticing the camera.

                YOU             (exasperated, but fond)         Kwannie, are you filming again? We have 30 batteries, but not all of them might be working. You might need to save battery and memory if you want to video the view of Jeju Island.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         It’s okay, I really just wanted to record us before we start. Once we’re walking, I won’t use the camera as much. And I have twenty other SD Cards!                 YOU             (not surprised)         Okay, we’ll definitely figure something out for the batteries, then.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Yeah. Now— Seungkwan’s voice changes to a more formal tone, as though he were imitating a newscaster.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D)         What are your thoughts as we start our newest adventure? The camera catches your grin. You follow along, changing your tone to an impression of those backpackers in TV documentaries.                  YOU         Um, I’m excited to see Jeju-do, even from afar, because it’s part of Seungkwannie, and we had our honeymoon there. As long as we’re careful, I know we can do it. If we’re lucky, we may even find someone who can bring us across. Beat. You look ever so slightly awkward in front of the camera.                 YOU (CONT’D) Wait, here, give me the camera. I’ll record you this time. The footage shakes, briefly showing a tiled floor, then train tracks, before panning to a blurry face. The camera shakes for a moment before the image comes into focus, revealing a beautiful young man with dark hair. Seungkwan does a better job at the “interviewer voice”, but you’re no slouch either.                 YOU (O.S., CONT’D)         So, Seungkwan-ssi, what are your thoughts as we embark on a new adventure?                 SEUNGKWAN             (genuine)         I think it’s about to be wonderful.

D–2183

When the Blight started, both you and Seungkwan were in high school. Though only having known you since that start of your third year, you’ve quickly wormed his way into his life—visiting his house, having dinners with your family, and he even managed to force you into joining the badminton club with him.

Bees now officially extinct, the news proclaims, an effect of the ravaging of nearly all plant life. Asia in particular has suffered; the widespread rice shortages due to it becoming impossible to grow resulted in widespread famine. The extinction of plants used for feed, made food prices across the board skyrocket. Corn, it seems, is the only crop that can resist the Blight—and the rest of the world now has to adjust its staple food to mimic the old Americas.

“Seungkwan.” You prod his ribs.

“Mm?”

“What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?”

“Marry you.” You laugh, until you realize he isn’t joking.

“What?” Your voice pitches to an incredulous squeak.

“Marry you,” he repeats.

“Why, though?”

“I always wanted to get married,” Seungkwan replies, after a moment of pondering. “And if the world ends tomorrow, as of today you’d be my best candidate for marriage.” 

For a moment, you just look at him, eyes tracing over his features. Your steady gaze makes him shift, uncomfortable, wondering if he said something wrong. Eventually, you shrug, though there’s a twinkle in your eye as you quirk a smile at him.

“While I don’t support shotgun marriages, I’d make an exception for you and the end of the world.”

His breath catches, heart stuttering as he tries to parse your answer in his head. “Wha—you—”

“Come on, Seungkwan, don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” you groan, flopping sideways to plop your head against the armrest. Your legs tilt as you do, your foot brushing against his calf. He tries not to jolt at the contact.

“I’m sorry!” He pouts, trying to calm the uneven fluttering of his heart. You laugh, shifting your lean in the opposite direction, so your head lands on his lap. Despite having done it a thousand times before, he traces softly the way your hair falls, admiring the way its color contrasts with the color of his pants.

(Looking back, he’ll think about how that day changed things, even just by a little bit; how his gazes grew longer, noticing more how the sunsets glowed against your face as you walked home together every day, painting you golden. How you’d both gotten used to creative ways of shelter when mild dust storms come, thanking your luck each time that you had gotten home before it truly began.

He’ll think about how, a year from that day, he kissed you as he walked you home for the last time before you enter your separate colleges, swallowing the teasing took you long enough from your lips as he finished his shaky confession. 

He’ll think of how you exchanged second buttons like those characters from that anime you liked did, and the quiet promises to make things work even as the world seems to turn more barren than both of you can follow.

He’ll think of how three years from then, he gets on one knee, to your tearful yes and salty kisses. Your small marriage, with just your families, batchmates, and some professors, followed by a beautiful honeymoon in Jeju. Despite it all.

None of these decisions had anything to do with the end of the world, but you and Seungkwan made them, nonetheless.)

D-9 INT. A TENT – A TRAIN STATION SOMEWHERE BETWEEN SEOUL AND MOKPO – NIGHT The footage is grainy due to the lack of proper lighting; the camera shakes as Seungkwan seems to be trying to balance it on something. The tent is quite cramped; the inside is sparse, with only two sleeping bags and your knapsacks—Seungkwan’s with two camping pans attached with a carabiner.  The leather jacket you were wearing is now resting on one of the bags. You have both swapped your sturdy day pants for more comfortable, albeit worn, sweatpants. Out of context, it looks like a vlog filmed by two campers on a hike. The camera steadies as Seungkwan moves away. He moves to sit beside you. There is an easy intimacy as you thread your fingers together, almost mindlessly.                 SEUNGKWAN         BOO-log number 531. We passed by a sign that said Nonsan. That means we’re probably halfway there.                 YOU         We made progress better than expected, didn’t we? I estimated at least two weeks.                 SEUNGKWAN             (nodding, excited)         I thought the train tracks would have been ruined, since the stations are, but they’re surprisingly reliable.                 YOU         It’s true; of course there were times when we had to find our way around the tracks, or climb above anything that fell down over it, or go through some cornfields, but mostly, it seems we’ve been lucky.                 SEUNGKWAN         By the way—everyone, it looks like we’re in a tent in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled, we set this up in a convenience store.                 YOU             (laughing)         You ruined it! Now we can’t be funky backpackers with a tent on the train tracks.                 SEUNGKWAN             (playfully lecturing)         It’s good to be truthful, you know. What if kids watch this someday? We have to be good moral people.                 YOU             (with the remnants of a laugh)         Okay, okay. We set this up in the Seven Eleven inside one of the train stations. Abandoned, obviously. We made it in right before the dust storm hit.                 SEUNGKWAN         Another good news today is that we managed to barter something for food.                 YOU         Yeah. This one engineer or something—I think he’s a veteran? But we saw him tinkering on his porch and offered a trade, his corn for our cables, and now we have dinner.                 SEUNGKWAN             (joking)         It’s not jokbal, but it’ll do, I suppose.                 YOU             (groaning)         Oh my God, what I’d give for some jokbal right now. With bossam. And soju. SEUNGKWAN         I’ll be dreaming of that tonight.                 YOU         Anyway, everyone, we’ll end the log here, so we have enough batteries for a nice long BOO-log at Mokpo. Both you and Seungkwan wave your corn (dinner) at the camera. You reach forward, covering the lens with your palm. The clip ends.

D–20

Seungkwan walks around the house. He’s doing his last checks, checking between what’s in his bag and what’s in the rooms to parse if he’s missed anything—batteries, your wallets, matches, passports, birth certificates, first aid kit, water bottles, toothbrushes, all the canned food in the pantry, the sturdiest kitchen knife you both owned (wrapped in two layers of cloth), the Swiss knife he was gifted a few years back, flashlights, a whistle, and all the carabiners and hard cash you had were already packed.

He finds you in your shared bedroom. There are a bunch of wires there, evidently cut from various appliances. You’ve wrapped the cables as neatly as you could manage. On the bed, you’ve laid all your dry-fit shirts and the sturdiest pairs of pants you both have. Then, from the dresser, you’ve collected the most expensive jewelry the both of you own—well, all of them, but you separated the expensive ones in another pile. He points to the latter.

“What’s that for?”

“If cash fails, maybe gold won’t. I don’t know, just in case the currency collapses. But they’re worth bringing all the same.” Also, you hold out copies of both your health insurances. He opens his knapsack and quickly stuffs them in the same place as your other documents.

“Last resort kindling?” Seungkwan offers, showing the cluster of documents in his compartment. The remark draws a quick breath of a laugh from you.

“Probably.”

“How about the wires?”

“You never know when we’ll need some emergency engineer bullshit; plus, if it comes to it, the wires will probably be better barter material. Before you ask,” you hold up one hand, “I edited a zombie novel a few years back. But if that kid was pulling out of his ass, we’re fucked.”

Despite your disclaimer, the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact way you’re handling the situation makes something settle in him, as though all he needed was an anchor amid the chaos. He pulls you close, placing a kiss to your temple. The tension in your body melts as you press against him. For a moment, Seungkwan just holds you. A temporary anchor before you need to move.

Turning to him, you offer a quick peck to his lips before holding up his trusted camera bag, worn as it is. “Bring it,” you tell him firmly. “We need a little bit of happiness. Get all the SD cards you have, too. In case we just never leave Mokpo. It’s small enough to stuff in our pockets.”

Seungkwan can’t help it; he grabs your face and kisses you. The camera bag sits between you awkwardly, but he doesn’t care. He savors this, the familiar taste of it, the contours of your face that his hands have long since memorized. You pull away, but not before kissing his lips again, then his nose. He’ll never quite get used to the way you look at him, as though there is something new to love each time.

“We’re gonna be okay, my heart.”

D-4 EXT – A LONG STRETCH OF BEACH – MOKPO, SOUTH KOREA – SUNSET The camera captures a breathtaking sunset. The sky is a wash of oranges and pinks, the clouds purple yet lined in the light of the sun. Mokpo is on the southwest side of Korea; the view of the sunset is particularly beautiful, as the sun sinks down into the sea. There are faint silhouettes of islands both near and far from the shore. The waters are tranquil, and there are no sounds except for the steady wash of the waves on the shore.

The shot slowly pans to you. Your expression is tranquil, despite the dirt and tears across your clothes.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (soft, so soft you don’t hear)         Pretty.                 YOU             (clueless)         Hm?                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Nothing. Can you see Jeju Island from here?

He already knows where it is.                 YOU             (laughing softly, a little sad)         To be honest, I don’t know which piece of land I’m seeing is Jeju. A finger appears at the edge of the screen.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         There, that’s Jeju. Right behind the blob that looks like a hat.                 YOU             (squinting)         Oh! Right, that’s what it looks like. Beat.                 YOU (CONT’D) The view is beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea. Seungkwan hums the opening to Tears of Mokpo. You don’t recognize it until he softly begins to sing the opening lyrics.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (singing)         사공의 뱃노래 가물거리면…                 YOU             (laughing outright)         That doesn’t have anything to do with Jeju! He sings louder just to spite you. You playfully roll your eyes. Bending down, you unlace your boots and take off your socks, sinking your bare feet into the sand with barely-concealed relish. Seungkwan stops singing as he knows what you’re about to do.                 SEUNGKWAN         Careful; don’t step on anything sharp. As you move forward, the camera follows you. It is revealed that the beach is not so picturesque. The sea seems to have dried up some, and even here, bits and bobs of life float on the surface and linger in the sand.

There are the usual culprits: plastic bags, empty cans of alcohol and soda, and snack wrappers. Yet visible also on the camera are the following: bullet shells, shrapnel, a chair leg, a ragged pillow, and a cracked desktop monitor. As all this is visible, the camera centers on you laughing, splashing in the saltwater and enjoying the breeze in your hair.                 YOU             (calling; audio faint)         Kwannie! Come here! A beat. The camera zooms in on your face.                 YOU         Kwannie, come on! Hurry up!                 SEUNGKWAN             (proximity makes his voice loud)         Okay! A rustle. The camera is laid down, cloth (Seungkwan’s jacket) obscuring part of the footage. After a nudge, the cloth disappears from frame. Another figure, barefoot, joins you.

D–119

Jeju has officially been declared abandoned, lost for some other country to use as farmland. The radio announced the treaty ratification today. Seungkwan is a spectre around the house, listless and heartbroken. 

Months ago, when the conflict began to escalate in earnest, he began whatever arrangements he could to ensure his family was safe, moving them as near to the farming areas as he could manage and encouraging them to share whatever techniques they knew could help former cities now learning how to farm. The news does not make the sharp pang of grief dull any less.

He is at the age when he is to receive a conscription notice; Korea has since shifted its system to split soldiers into those who will either fight on the front lines of the Resource Wars, or serve by tilling the land and ensuring that there is enough corn for the population, however dwindling. There is no guarantee on which one he is to get, even if he did register himself as head of household (and should hypothetically be assigned the latter), but he is due to receive news in a few months’ time.

The promise of the notice hangs over both your heads. In the mornings, you spend ten more minutes just looking at him, as though you were memorizing the shapes and contours of his features. At night, he curls into you more tightly than before; once you’d have complained that it was too hot, now, you simply wrap your arms around him and let him sink his face into your hair.

“Hey, Seungkwannie.”

“Mm?”

“Let’s go on a trip.” The hand mindlessly running through your hair falters. 

He pulls away, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You keep your head low, pressed against his chest. “What?”

“Let’s go south. Yeosu, Mokpo, whatever, just near the beach, as close as possible to Jeju. Just…just see it, even from afar.” At his silence, you barrel on. “If we walk enough, we can make it in two weeks—a week if we can hitch a ride with one of those crop trucks or something—and then just another two weeks back, if we don’t settle in Mokpo outright.” 

“Food—”

“I can pack us as much as I can. We’ll need to ration, and possibly trade, but we can do it. The treaty is in place, and it’s most dangerous up north right now. Going south isn’t as big of a risk, and the weather has been looking good lately.” Finally looking up, you cup his cheek, tracing the skin with your thumb. He presses his lips to your wrist.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to Kwannie. I just thought you might want to say goodbye.”

“I…” he falters. It’s tempting. Unbearably so, despite the nagging at the back of his head that it would be better to leave it at that, keep his memory limited to the days you spent there dodging dust storms and falling in love. He doesn’t know how much it’s changed. How much the ocean might have even dried up. He doesn’t know if he can stomach to see it. “Give me a few days to think about it?”

“Of course, Kwannie. All the time you need.”

D+29

Seungkwan’s life has been demarcated into two. Before, and after. He goes through the motions of the government-run fields: waking up, clocking in, eating breakfast, tilling the soil, weeding, lunch, the occasional drills in case they were still expected to fight, transporting corn from one warehouse to another, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

Not a lot of people are here; many prefer to till fields they own, or collectively own; for once, agrarian reform straightened itself out at the start of the Blight. Yet with the dwindling population—slowly withering family trees—those lands acquired by the government grew.

Sometimes, Seungkwan thinks of home. He was lucky enough that the head of the center, Seungcheol, was kind enough to register his name as part of the deployed cadets under his supervision, despite the incomplete paperwork he had when he stumbled into his field, frail and dehydrated from lack of food and water.

Home remains now only in his memory, and in every replay of the Christmases he captured on camera. The soil is more unforgiving than before; it distracts from the loneliness.

EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The wedding is humbly decorated with dried corn leaves fashioned into flowers, as there are no real ones anymore (none within the budget, anyway). Guests came as they are, though everyone has made an effort to clean up more than usual. It is currently the reception, and the speakers are playing a quick beat. The guests are dancing, laughing, and cheering, though their movements are blurry and almost smeared onscreen (step-printing effect). In the middle of it, you stand, the only still figure in the frame. You’re smiling softly to someone behind the camera, very clearly in love. Cut to Seungkwan, in a similar position, the guests around him dancing as but blurs. He is wearing a similar expression. He begins to walk forward.

You meet in the middle, still the only clear figures to the camera, and begin to dance.  As though the dance were a spell, the surroundings cut to: INT. A MEDIUM-SIZED LIVING ROOM – NIGHT EXT. SEOUL STATION, IN RUINS – DAY INT. YOUR TENT (MAGICALLY ENLARGED) – NIGHT EXT. LONG STRETCH OF BEACH (UNPOLLUTED) – MOKPO – SUNSET Hold this image for a moment. The sea laps at your ankles. The bottom of both your garments brushes against the saltwater, but neither of you seem to notice. Both you and Seungkwan close the gap to meet in a tender kiss. Suddenly, cheers. You part, and are back to: EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The newly-married couple smiles and waves. The bottom of their garments are damp.

D+167

It seems surreal to have all the batteries he wants, and even a computer where he can replay all his footage—more than 4000 hours’ worth of it. It took a few months of work to earn enough credits and rank to access it, but Seungkwan pursued the goal with single-minded purpose. There is enough electricity in this center to run a few computers, and Seungkwan is its most regular customer, painstakingly going through each clip on the dozens of SD cards he has.

For footage so far back, from when you had just been married, there are parts where he no longer remembers what happened after the clips end. They remain in his memory as but colored ghosts, warm-tinged with nostalgia. Cabinets that would never be opened again, now filled, in his dreams, with infinities.

The house of his memories blurs with the house of his oneirism. In both, he subsists on sleep and daydreams. But memory will betray; it won’t tell him if the house he remembers has been altered by each remembrance. So he watches his videos. He walks through his house, now only alive in video and reconstructed by memory. He sees himself and he sees you, in all the different iterations you both were. Wonders if he could stitch both into narrative. Wonders if he could even bear to cut any scenes. He’s never thought about the violence of that act until now.

Inventories do not just catalogue possession; they also measure the potential of loss. It was a quote from one of your writing workshops, discussed over a late dinner. You could still afford some meat then; Seungkwan had saved just enough for a small slab of cured pork, which you would cut tiny slabs from for both of you to enjoy before bed.

He has five minutes left of his designated slot with the computer.

Seungkwan watches, and he catalogues.

D=0

Seungkwan only remembers in flashes—a gunshot. A scream. It’s only when he replays that moment in his mind that he realizes it was his voice. Barely a thud as your body is cushioned by the corn leaves. Dark red liquid, somehow both grainy and slippery on his hands as he drags you into the thick of the field, away from the path, trying desperately to stem the blood while minimizing your trail. Until finally, he collapses, feet unable to bring him a step further.

More flashes—your eyes, only ever kind. Even at your last moments. The way you hold his hand and place it over the pocket you keep his SD cards, as though reminding him one last time. The way your eyes search his face, first desperate, and then resigned. The way he leaned in when you opened your mouth, to hear your final words, only to feel the ghost of chapped lips brush against his ear. The gush of blood that dribbles past your mouth that tells him you’re gone.

(The Resource Wars felt like more a backdrop than anything else; you had come this far without any altercation. Yet even as you screamed that you were not thieves, just travellers, the gunshot rang. 

The cornfields weep with him as he leaves you behind, SD cards clutched in his bloody hand.)

D–4

TIME CUT TO: It is twilight, now. The camera is trained on the horizon. The sun has fully set, and night is beginning to settle in the sky. Only the barest hints of orange remain. The footage has already become slightly grainy due to the lighting. Neither you nor Seungkwan are on the camera. Instead, voices are heard while the darkness arrives. It is not evident whether the footage was taken accidentally, or on purpose.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (softly)         I’m glad we came. Really, even if we couldn’t get to Jeju. I’m glad. I’m glad it’s with you.                 YOU (O.S.)             (just as softly)         I’m glad too, my heart. You filmed the whole sunset, didn’t you? Start to finish?                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Yeah. Yesterday and today. I have so much footage that I don’t know what to do with.

Breath.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D)         Actually, that goes for all the BOO-logs. Even the ones from high school and college.                 YOU (O.S.)             (surprised)         You never tried editing them?                  SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         I have, but what then? There are hardly any theaters now. Nowhere else to post. And electricity is expensive.                 YOU (O.S.)         Okay, but if we both die, what do you think’s gonna happen to this camera? Seungkwan is many things; a prideful badminton player (before the Wars stopped sports events), a videographer, casual vlogger, and a corn field worker. You are also many things; an editor (before your company closed from too little employees), author, copywriter, and occasional tiller.

Both of you still enjoy nurturing sparks of creativity when they come.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Mm. someone picks it up and it gets immortalized in a post-war museum. And our videos will be a special feature.                 YOU (O.S.)         Oooh. And the war museum would be on a spaceship, with funky gravity and new plants and meat the astronauts domesticated from a different planet.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         And there’s a new jokbal. Call that out of this world delicious.                 YOU         Stop! Despite the terrible joke, you both laugh, then let the conversation drift into comfortable silence. The sun has fully set. Nothing much can be discerned visually from the footage.                 YOU (O.S., CONT’D)         Hey, Seungkwannie.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Mm?                 YOU (O.S.)         If you had the chance, like computers and steady electricity, would you edit all the BOO-logs into a short film?                  SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)             (skeptical, but thinks about it seriously)         What would the plot even be? A married couple traveling to Mokpo, dodging dust storms and chasing each other through cornfields? Watching the stars at night?                 YOU (O.S.)             (earnest)         Yeah! Or, y’know, make it semi-autobiographic, like two lovers wanting to visit where they first had their honeymoon. Or maybe I’m sick and you want to take me to the sea one last time? The footage earlier could fit with that storyline.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Don’t even say that!                 YOU (O.S.)             (laughing softly, apologetic)         Sorry, sorry. But if you do make a short film, I want to be the first to see it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you work.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         What about you, then? Would you write a book about us?                 YOU (O.S.)         Oh, definitely. And you’d be the first to read it. The footage cuts.

D+182

Seungkwan replays the footage again. Beside him, Vernon fiddles with a pen.

“What do you think about making this a short film?” Seungkwan asks. 

Vernon stops. 

Seungkwan may be their newest addition, but the rest of the crew has grown protective. He brings light to their conversations, effortless in his ability to entertain and bring laughter. Mingyu asks him of his favorite foods, especially the ones he misses from Jeju, even if recreating them is near impossible. Seungcheol reprimands anyone who tries to bully him into giving up his share of rations. Junhui has begun to joke more, noticing how Seungkwan seems to be particularly into his humor. 

Yet everyone recognizes the sadness that still clings to his heels.

Vernon looks, for a long moment, at the monitor, frozen with a picture of a smiling face he’s never known—never personally, only ever through the screen and Seungkwan’s stories, always shared in quiet whispers in the privacy of his room.

He knows, though. Knows that this person was real. They loved, and were loved. It speaks in how the camera follows whoever is in the frame. The cuts of certain clips, as though either the person behind the camera joined their partner or had a moment that could not be captured in film. Most of all, it was the way whoever was in the frame would, without fail, smile at the person behind it. 

“I think,” he replies, choosing his words deliberately, “that you are in a unique position to dictate how someone is to be remembered by those who never knew them. And…” he hesitates, wondering if two months of these quiet conversations is still too little to be so candid with his friend, especially when talking of loss.

So, so much loss.

Seungkwan answers that question for him. “It’s okay, Vernon-ah.”

“…Well, I just wanted to say that it’s a burden to bear, is all.”

EXT – A CORNFIELD UNDER THE STARS – NIGHTTIME The stars have emerged, visible in all their glory. After the start of the Blight, when the population began to dwindle, electricity and many other resources became scarce. Much of the light pollution that was once a problem has disappeared. Brilliant dots twinkle overhead. To you and Seungkwan, it could pass for the Milky Way. The POV seems to be at a low point; stalks of corn are visible at the edges of the frame. Yet the stars are bright, captured exceedingly well.

You’re softly speaking aloud Laura Gilpin’s The Two-Headed Calf. It was one of the poems you memorized in college, as a creative writing major. YOU (O.S.)             (as though from far away)         Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual. Long beat.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         Twice as many stars as usual…let’s look up together.                 YOU (O.S.)         I see the stars, my heart, but I’m tired…

A breath hangs in the air. Some rustle of cloth, as though someone had adjusted so you fit together. A soft sigh.                 YOU (O.S.) Good night, Kwannie.                 SEUNGKWAN (O.S.)         …Good night, darling. End.

note. are the screenplay bits from the short film? the raw sd card clips? his memories? distorted memories? guess we'll never know. nonlinear bc grief is nonlinear. pls tell me your thoughts (even/esp if u didn't get the story lol) take care of yourselves always <3

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[leblogreblog]

Being a Cahir fan from the time before the show came out is so weird cause-

That's. That's litteraly a completely different character.

[luna-loveboop]

Hi Luna!! Just dropping by to see how you’re doing :)

Blupee Wild won't leave my head and it's all your fault! I think of how cute it is constantly TT

But I'm good :D at work right now I'm the designated person for helping the kids in tough situations/mental illness related issues through stuff and. helping them makes me happy :)

How are you? Small reminder you are amazing and wonderful

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[zonotrichia-albicollis]

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

[firebirdsdaughter]

I respect your right…

… To interpret this honestly incredibly vague character writing/story telling in this way. I respect it.

You're wrong, but I respect it.

[choking-on-roses]

My bank back in Canada sent an overdue payment warning to my mom's phone (because it won't let me attach my Japanese phone number to the account) and all she did was send me a screenshot of it. Said absolutely nothing. Completely unbothered and unconcerned that her child might be struggling financially.

It just makes me feel like absolute shit every time I get a reminder that my parent doesn't give a fucking crap about me and if I don't figure out my finances on my own I'll just fucking die I guess. Because she doesn't care!

[alectoperdita]

Losing my fucking mind. I'm less than a day into the team transfer and already no less than two instances of someone on the previous team pinging me with a problem they could've just resolved/or does resolve themselves if they worked on it for five minutes before slacking me.

[constantvariations]

Thinking about how the official White Fang uniform is red, white, and black, but Yang is the one to help Blake end racism 🙃🙃🙃