#theres less gunshots

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

I saw an otter running across the street on my way to work this morning so that was cool

I've never seen one in the wild before

[amoristt]

trust i seek, and i find in you.

part 2 (x) part 3 (x)

「 ✦ seong gi-hun / reader ✦ 」

tags: sfw // gi-hun is tooth-rottingly sweet, violence, canon thru the canon cuz idc let me live, reader is a angry wet cat a/n: this is kinda like a pilot fic cuz theres gonna be three parts to this hehehe and relationship building is hardddd this chapter is kinda mid but trust me the next two r peak

This wasn’t part of the plan. 

He wasn’t part of the plan.

Your goal from the moment you’d arrived- win at any cost. 

Even after the first round of Red Light, Green Light you remained determined. You slapped your palm over the glowing blue button despite the open cries and protests of the opposing side and sauntered back into your corner of the dormitory, disappearing in the sea of bodies. Being sent home was only a minor setback- you were all too quick to jump head first back into the games knowing damn well it could cost you your life. 

You didn’t care. That just meant either you died, or you left richer than you could ever even fathom. A win-win in your book, and the first had been easy enough. If it truly was just simple children's games, surely, you’d have a good chance of outplaying your competitors. You grew up more often in the streets playing with the scrappy neighborhood kids than you did inside your own home. There were very few games you hadn’t played, and honestly, gotten quite good at in your youth. 

So you had thought. 

Truthfully, dalgona had shaken you up. Even though you’d chosen a circle by triangle, a lucky guess, you never quite had honed up your fine motor skills. Games that required decent aim, mind games, or even the more physical games like tag? Sure. Wrestling? In the bag. You were confident. But having to carve out shapes in thin sugar, and doing it timed while gunshots popped off all around you? 

You remembered how bad your hands shook the entire time, your mind screaming at your lungs to just fucking breathe properly so you would stop trembling like a leaf. Distress and agitation only mounted when you noticed many of your competitors finishing, panic setting in. All you had to do, was be gentle. 

But you had never been gentle a day in your life. 

Sweat had gathered at your forehead and you on the precipice of losing your cool when the timer only had a mere 3 minutes left. You were definitely dead. You were sure of it. Your hands were too shaky, your pressure control was essentially nonexistent. The only sound you could hear was your own heart thundering in your ears, beat by beat. 

Then, you saw him for the first time. 

A man with dark, thick hair lifting his honeycomb to the light before licking along its backside frantically. At first, you didn’t know what you were looking at. But then you realized how after every lick, he’d hover it over the light overhead again. It stunned you- how had you not fucking thought of that? You, along with most everyone who was leftover, started to do the same. The sugar was sweet on your tongue. You barely even registered it. 

Your shape was free in less than 40 seconds, and you showed it to your guard for approval before you were escorted out of the room. As you went, you passed the man by, who was still hard at work. Though contradictory to your goal, you hoped he’d make it in time. Your breath left you in a sigh of relief when he’d wandered back into the dormitory afterwards, alive and well. 

After everyone that had survived filled the room, you took one look around and realized how much… Larger a majority of your competitors were. Women were far and few amongst all the men. It made you nibble at your lip, anxious. Sure, you were tough enough, a little rough around the edges, but brute strength was brute strength. And already, groups were forming, with one in particular that made you squirm. A larger man with tattoos sprawled over his neck and into his face, equipped with a bad attitude, and lackeys nipping at his heels everywhere he went. 

You needed to make some buddies if you were going to make it. But who would openly accept you? You’d done very little to even make contact with anyone, being liked enough to settle into a group. Who could you approach?

Then, it dawned on you.  

And you knew the perfect ice breaker. 

When you’d found him in the endless ocean of people, you felt a twinge of hope ring through you. His dark hair was stark under the bright lights. He was smiling, laughing, with a group of people. Though it was a team entirely composed of men, one of them was an old man, meaning that they weren’t favoring power and sheer size over all else. Maybe they’d find use in you, too. It was probably your best shot, so, you swallow down your anxiety. 

Though it took a couple seconds to build your confidence, you managed to leave the comfort of your bed and cross the massive floor of the dormitory. When you stood before him, his and the eyes of three other men you’d never seen before burning holes through you, you don’t think there was a time in your life you’d truly felt that small until then. There was so much at stake. 

“Um,” You started, fidgeting with your sleeve. Talking was never your strongest skill. “I just wanted to say thank you, uh, for the dalgona game. I probably wouldn’t have made it out if you hadn’t, started, y’know…”

Your voice died in your throat. Not a single one of them made a peep. It made you want to turn around and scamper back into your little cave. Fuck it. Who needed friends. And you’re about to, too, when the man suddenly erupts into a smile so boyish, so genuine it almost takes your breath away. Up close now, you could see him better. Some light facial hair, rosy cheeks, and a curl to his disheveled hair. 

He was cute. 

“You’re welcome, it was nothing, really!” He said, and his voice was so kind. Maybe integrating wouldn’t be as hard as you’d believed initially- this man had a warmness about him. Something inviting. But you knew that you needed an in, a reason for them to let you stick around. It wasn’t going to be strength, that was for sure. Maybe speed, but you weren't even sure if any games would require that. And though you had street smarts, your analytical skills were less than impressive. 

So, you take a chance, and you decide to use some of that good-natured temperament against him. 

“Um, if you don’t mind,” You’d forced out, trying to maintain an even tone. “I never really got to play games as a child, my, uh, my mother was very strict. She preferred I spent my time inside and, y’know, coloring and stuff.” You feel like a fucking idiot, word soup falling from your lips pathetically. “...I’m a bit at a loss for what’s to come. Could I, maybe… Maybe hang around you guys?”

Almost everything you had said was a bold, outright lie. But you needed an in. 

There’s mixed glances all around. The curly haired man's eyes immediately flick to the man on his left, who sat proud with an intimidating glare. He didn’t bother to hide the way he sized you up, glancing up and down. The old man had seemed far away, a smile painting on his lips that you couldn’t quite understand. 

Suddenly you’re 8 years old again, standing before a group of your classmates trying to kindle some forms of friendship moments before they’d shoved you in a locker. 

You’re sure your plan was fried, when a darker skinned man turned towards you.

“Of course! I don’t really know the games either, myself, so…” His voice was just as kind as the curly haired mans, maybe even kinder. His eyes were warm, his expression light as the sun. “We can all help each other.”

The curly haired man leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Alright! What’s your name?”

Once you offered your name up, albeit hesitant, everyone's names were traded. Well, more like they’d given into your request. It was a trust thing, and maybe if they’d attached a name to your face, you’d have better luck melding in. You tried to memorize them all. Cho Sang-Woo, a curt business graduate from SNU. Ali Abdul, a factory worker from Pakistan- which explained why he felt he was at a disadvantage. The elderly gentleman who didn’t really seem to be all there, couldn’t seem to recall his own name. It made this unsettling pity build its home in your belly. 

And then Seong Gi-hun, who sung everyones praises except his own. 

You didn’t miss the way Sang-woo sized you up as you sat among them. But, you did miss the way Gi-hun’s eyes rarely left you as you got to know your new acquaintances. Ali, in particular was more than happy to have you around. He was sweeter than you’d anticipated, asked you all sorts of questions about your life. 

You lied more often than you didn’t. After all, this was all just strategy. 

My parents are alive. My favorite food is bulgogi. My mom is strict, but only because she cares.

 I grew up in a very loving home.

Gi-hun asked why you were competing. You felt your throat tighten. 

So I can show everyone I’m not a fuck up, your mind screams. But instead, you say, “To make my parents proud.” 

He seems to like your answer. So does Sang-woo, resonating. You could only assume he was doing the same. That’s when you knew you were in. 

It turned out, you were just in time, too. Not even an hour later did you witness a fight break out- that scary man you’d seen earlier with his backup absolutely beating on a different man you’d never seen before, waiting any moment now for a guard to intervene, only for the man to die in his spot on the floor. They came and took his body away in a timely fashion. You remembered shrinking in on yourself. That was also the moment you realized that Sang-woo and Gi-hun were much better people than you- because while they sauntered from their spots to check on the poor man beaten to a pulp on the floor, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. 

You remembered the grave expression on Sang-woo’s face when there was no pulse to be felt. How Gi-hun knelt beside him and tried to call for help in vain. The guards paid him no mind despite the way he demanded they do something, anything. A man just died for god's sake at the hands of player 101- how could they just allow this to happen?

Nothing but empty stares in response.

Money dropped into the bank held high overhead. Surreal.

It made you pale in the face, the sinking reality that killing your competitors in cold blood was not only allowed, but encouraged. 

You remembered your ride back to the games, watching the smoke fill the car and telling yourself, you could do this. 

You’d made a serve lapse in judgement. 

The rest of that evening, before lights out, was… Tense. This lingering dread that hung thick in the air and threatened to suffocate you. You fidgeted with your cuticles and the sleeve of your tracksuit, trying to ignore the way 101 and his lackeys watched you. Ripples of fear were starting to shake your reflection in the waters of your mind. You dug small lines into your fingers, picking at the skin around your nail beds until they sprouted dots of blood. As the minutes tick by, your heart rate increases. 

You’re so caught up in trying to keep your breathing level that you don’t hear Sang-woo begin to speak. It’s only when Ali glances at you and holds a stare do you suddenly perk up.

“Stay close when you go to sleep. Anything could happen tonight.” 

You hate his tone. It scares you- god, it’s been a long time since you’d felt scared. It’d been a long time since you felt self doubt. Sang-woo’s expression is expectant, so you nod quickly in affirmation, trying to mentally lean on the fact that he’d told you to stay nearby. You could be protected.

 His eyes flicker between you and 101’s group. 

“Those guys are definitely up to no good. If anyone gets attacked, we have to stick together and fight.”

Gi-hun’s line of sight found yours, his lips drawn into a frown, before he began to grab the old man's attention to let him know to keep his guard up. That poor old man. He had no idea what was coming. And, as if the size of Gi-hun’s heart wasn’t big enough, you watched him stagger to his feet and approach the woman who’d been deemed a pickpocket. You didn’t need to hear what was said, you already knew he was trying to look out for her. 

He was so pure in nature you almost felt like your very presence was tainting him. 

Here he was going out of his way time and time again, throwing trust in every direction, meanwhile you couldn’t even bring yourself to trust them enough to be honest about something as puny as your favorite food. Guilt made teeth gnash into skin, chewing away at the inside of your lip and cheeks. 

From beside you, the old man shifted. He looked… Tired. Vacant. You lean towards him.

“Uh, sir,” You murmur. “If anything happens, I’m on the top bed. I’ll jump down.”

It takes a long while for him to answer you. Gears are turning in his mind almost visibly, but then he smiles.

“You remind me of- ah- what was her name?”

You tilt your head. “Who?”

He hums in thought. “Let’s see… Her name was… Was…”

If you felt like shit over his condition before, this was an entirely new low. Why the hell was he here? Would he be shown mercy, or would he be plucked from the herd? How could anyone be so savage? 

Another bout of nerves trickles down your spine. 

“Oh, nevermind.” Waving the thought away, he rests his elbows on his lap and leans towards you, voice hushed. “You remind me of someone in my youth. She was a funny girl.”

You can’t help but chuckle, raising a brow. “Funny?”

“Funny.” He sighs in thought. “Always telling stories.”

Even though his voice is far away, and even though he’s clearly not in his right mind, some weird feeling settles in your gut. Like you’d been caught, somehow. So little had been said but you stared at him, bewildered. What was he on about? Did he know you were lying? How?

“Well… Regardless, be careful tonight, yeah? We’ll come find you.”

There he goes, waving his hand again. It’s almost like he doesn't believe you. Or maybe he just doesn’t understand how dire the entire ordeal was. 

You try to gag down that weird feeling, but it’s hard, uncomfortable. Instead of letting it wrack your brain, you decide to just chalk it up to him being a senile old man and leave at that. There was no way he knew anything about you. This man was a total stranger. There's movement in the corner of your eye and you’re all too relieved to focus on something else. 

Gi-hun stands before you. 

“Where are you sleeping?” He sits next to you and leans forward. You point to the top bed, and he sighs in relief before pointing to the highest bed neighboring yours. “I’ll be there. If you’re attacked-”

“Find you guys.” 

He lingers over your face for a couple seconds, before he turns and stares forward. “Are you worried?”

“No.” Your voice leaves you too fast, too forced. Wringing hands, bleeding cuticles. You swallow it all down. The same as you’d done your entire life. “Are you?”

At first, he thinks on it. But you already know the answer. He nods once. “I think things are going to go bad, tonight.”

There’s a heavy silence that befalls you, thickening the gap between yours and his shoulders. You stare at the floor. “...I hope not.” 

Then, Gi-hun blurts something out, something that’s supposed to be genuine but only in the way he would mean it.

“You can move your pillow to my bed.” 

Instantly, your cheeks are warm. “E-Excuse me?”

The crazy thing is that he doesn’t even register what he’d said as anything other than innocent. He just stares at you with expectant eyes and an expression so sincere it has you second guessing your reaction. But then, those eyes widen. 

“Wait- Wait, not like that. I just meant that- You know, so that way you wouldn’t have to worry!” He’s stammering and rambling. “Not next to each other, no, more like, if you slept one on one end and I’d sleep on the other.” 

It’s almost alluring. You kind of want to say yes. He’s swallowing hard and his face is red by the time he lets up enough to let you actually answer. It leaves you in a gentle rejection. 

“Thanks but, no thanks.”

“Of course, of course.” His expression is strained as he watches everyone climb into their beds. The nerves are getting real, now. Time was moving faster than you could keep up with. 

“Lights out in five minutes.” A voice echoes from a speaker. You feel your stomach drop. 

Standing up, you hide the way your hands shake, just a little. 

“You know where we are.” Gi-hun murmurs. 

“Thank you.” You breathe. 

The climb up to your bed just before lights out felt like it took an eternity. Step after step up the stairs that suddenly seemed deadly hard, climbing onto your bed at the top bunk, observing for what could be your last time. Suddenly everything your eyes could see was dangerous. It felt like the zero hour- that any second now, all of this hush-hush would erupt into an inferno of violence. Your entire life you grew up proud of your ability to hold your own. Prided yourself that you didn’t need anyone- you didn’t need anything. 

And yet, when you lay down, the very first thing you do is share glances with Gi-hun from his bunk. You feel exposed, cold. Vulnerable. 

If you’re attacked, find them.

Gi-hun nods at you, a silent pact. You nod back.

The lights drop out and bathe you in darkness. 

You wished you had said yes. 

--

That night, it was a scream that set it all into motion. A scream that sliced through the darkness and had you launching up from your spot.

Your eyes frantically searched the room, seeing movement at every corner, every bed. Violence. Absolute chaos. A dozen screams echoed off the walls, shrill enough to make you cover your ears as you peeked over your bed to watch down below. Merely a few feet down laid a body, blood spilling from their throat and soaking into their clothes, their bed sheet wrapped around their head. Player’s tripped over the corpse as they fought to escape their attackers. 

Before you could even move, you felt your world flip upside down. 

Actually, it was your entire bed. Gravity fell through and you were sent tumbling to the floor, hitting the hard ground with a crack that sent waves of pain rippling down your sides. You gasped for air, struggling to regain your footing. You pressed your palms flat down to heave yourself up onto your knees but your right arm slipped in something wet, something warm. You smacked your chin off the floor and felt blood pill and drip down your chin from your lips. All you could taste was copper. 

Flashing lights blinded you, bodies moved from every direction. 

When you finally managed to bring yourself to your knees, and then to your wobbly feet, you could only vaguely get an understanding of the devastation before you. 

Bodies everywhere. Blood spilling and pooling at every step. You brought your hands up and a crack of white light revealed what you had slipped in, exactly what you were afraid of. Crimson red dripped down from your palm into the ditch of your arm. You felt sick.

You were scared. 

Another flicker of pulsating light allows you to take in your immediate surroundings. Other than the blood, you see beds and pillows scattered amongst the floor. 

Your first thought is to hide. To crawl underneath a bed and wait it all out praying no one dragged you away kicking and screaming.

But then, you see him. 

You see Gi-hun trapped between the bars of a tipped over bed frame, struggling to break free, wide eyes darting from left to right in his frenzy. Without even thinking, you dash for him. You pay no mind to the people laying at your feet, or the way that you almost slip on your way over in yet another puddle of blood. All you care about is making it to him. His knuckles are white with the force of trying to pry the frame off of him to no avail. You press your foot up against the standing frame he’s laying on and grab onto bars of those holding him in place, and then you heave with everything you’ve got in you. It lifts just enough for him to wriggle out from under its hold, ducking and crawling between the bars until he’s free and scrabbling to his feet beside you. 

You take a moment to assess him, grabbing his shoulders, grabbing his arms. 

He’s okay. 

You don’t even think to assess yourself. But he does it for you. He touches your bleeding chin and you swat his hold away. 

“I’m fi-”

In a blur, you’re ripped by your hair backwards and sent skittering on the floor. Your head cracks back and you can’t tell if the flashes are coming from behind your eyes or in front of them anymore. In a disoriented haze, you find yourself suddenly lifted. 

You don’t even know what’s happening. Everythings a blur and your head is aching something  awful and warmth is dripping down the backside of your neck. You manage to force your eyes open and then you see her- player 067. She’s gripping you by the collar of your shirt in one hand, the other wedged underneath your arm. Blood spatters the side of her face. Her eyes are dark and dangerous.

Initially, the first thing you can think to do is rip yourself out of her grasp. So, you try. You shove against her chest and flail until she inevitably loses grip and you barely manage to launch backwards without falling over. She’s staring at you, ready. Waiting. 

Fear seizes you as you realize you can’t fight her like this- barely even conscious. Moving like a drunk and unable to comprehend the riot. 

Her voice manages to reach you, however, in one shout.

���Duck!”

Okay, you comprehend that. You send yourself to your knees on the floor with your arms instinctively crossing over your head to protect yourself. There’s a zip in the air, then the unmistakable sound of metal colliding with metal. Over your shoulder, with just a glance, you see a dark figure standing behind you and raising a metal pole to try their chance at a second time. The light glints off the bar as they prepare to crack it back down over your head.

You hurl yourself out of the way from the floor, kicking the person in the shins. They fumble forward, gripping their leg with a hissing groan of pain, giving you a chance to rush to your feet. 067 grabs you by the fabric of your tracksuit and yanks you until you’re upright, and then she’s shoving something hard and metal into your grip. 

Then, she’s gone, disappeared into the flashing lights and oceans of chaos. A small, broken bar sits heavy in your hands. 

You don’t get the chance to think before you react when you feel yourself grabbed at the shoulder and spun around, face to face with a man twice your size. He rears a fist back. 

There’s a microsecond of calm. Like you finally woke up. 

You knew how to fight. You’d done it your whole life. 

You dodge his swing, jumping back, before you bring the pole up and swing it directly to the side of the man's skull. He loses his balance, grabbing at his head, and you take the chance to plant the bottom of your foot on his stomach and ram your heel into his gut. He spits out a groan and stumbles but the fucker just won’t go down. 

So. You hit him again. 

Thwack right over the head- and that does it. He crumbles to the floor in a heap of writhing limbs. It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever done.

All your senses come flooding back to you at once. 

Gi-hun.

Sangwoo. Ali. 

You spin on your heels in search. You can’t be alone like this. 

The old man.

Where the hell were they?

You pass by bunk after bunk, ducking and sauntering. Your nerves are starting to spill into your throat. With each second, a body drops, and you can’t find a single one of your friends. 

“Gi-hun!” You cry into the darkness, lost in the endless cries and pleas of a dozen others. “Sang-woo!”

You needed protection.

You find yourself in a small opening, three standing bunks and one tipped on an angle, forming a barrier. Just beyond the make-shift wall of beams, movement shifts just where your eyes struggle to reach. Two hulking figures with broad shoulders, ready to lunge at any moment, lurking, waiting for you to slip up and hop within reach from the otherside of the tipped over bunk. Another figure closes in on the opposite side of you, the only other opening. You recognize him- the man you’d kicked in the leg. A viscous grin playing over his lips as he closes in on you. You’re being circled. You ran right into a corner like a cat before snarling hounds.

If you’re attacked, find them. 

“Sang-woo!” You cry, holding the bar to you, swinging every time the man steps too close. If he gets his hands on you, it’s over. “Sang-woo!”

You have to get out of here.

An arm shoots out from the barrier of bars, one of the two men swiping as you back away from the third. Your eyes can’t keep up with all of them. You’re outnumbered. You’re injured.  You have to make a break for it- you have to. Your group is nowhere to be found and at this point you feel like they’re definitely dead. You have to save yourself, dash as far as you can get and pray that you’re lost in the flashing lights.

But then you realize what you’re looking at through the jungle of bars.

You realize that the bed they’re looming over is where the old man had slept. There’s a mass underneath all those tipped over crossing beams, smothered and crushed by the weight of the frames. The unmistakable fabric of the tracksuit is just barely visible underneath it all. Your breath stops. 

He could be dead. 

You don’t have time. 

He could be injured.

You’ll die if you stay here.

They’ll kill him. 

They’ll kill you. Think of yourself.

Think of yourself. 

But you don’t.

You don’t think of yourself when you leap towards him.

You dive under and drag him out.

Only to discover all that remains is his mattress and pillow. His jacket crumpled in a pile, abandoned. Your stomach sinks into the bowels of your guts. 

A hand shoots through the gaps of the bars and grabs you by the shoulder, yanks and rams you into the beams of the frame once, twice, until your head bounces off the metal.  Your hands unclench, the bar falling from your grasp and clanging onto the floor. When you’re let go, the force sends you toppling down once more, the ground just as hard and uninviting as the first time you met it. 

You don’t get a second of reprieve. The third man pounces on you. 

His massive hand latches onto your ankle and rips you towards him, your belly dragging over the tiles, your arms swinging wildly, scrambling to find purchase on anything you could get. His other hand grabs your other leg, flipping you onto your back. 

There’s weight so heavy on your shins and thighs you really feel like you may be crushed under it, thrashing and clawing blindly as the lights flashed and disoriented you even further. You catch your nails into something soft- hair, you realize, and you grab so tight it hurts your knuckles and you wrench to the side in a frantic attempt to pull off your attacker. 

There’s a satisfying crack when his head rams into metal. For just a second, for a blink of an eye, you have hope. 

But you were wrong. 

He hauls your hand away from his hair, taking chunks with it before striking your shoulder until it was numb with vibrations traveling all the way down to the tips of your fingers. You cried out and punched at his shoulders, his chest, anything you possibly could with your other arm. You kicked, you writhed. All for naught. 

There’s hands on your throat, squeezing. You still and grapple at his wrists as fireworks explode behind your eyes. His grip is impossibly tight- your face is hot and it feels like your eyes are going to burst right from your skull.

You can’t even scream. 

He isn’t budging. 

You were going to die. 

Choked and wretched gasps weasel their way from your lips. Your body goes numb, starting in your toes and fingers. Drool slips down your chin. Flashing images and faces from your life fill your vision. 

Your childhood friends. A teacher that actually meant something to you.

A photo of your dad that your mom often cried over. 

The sounds of chaos and bloodshed seem far away.

Your childhood cat.

No one would notice you were gone. No one, except your little group. Gi-hun. 

Your friend's house. The sun poking through leaves overhead.

You don’t have it in you to fight anymore. Your arms fall heavy at your sides as the last bit of your life is choked out of you. 

What a lousy life you had lived. 

----

When you finally get the chance to breathe again, you suck in a breath so greedy and gulping that it sends you sputtering into wet coughs. You feel again- and it’s cold and everything hurts but you can feel. Your legs are kicking uselessly at the floor, your heels slipping in blood. You claw at your throat, wheezing and gasping. A hand appears in your hair, another sliding underneath your upper back and jerking you up. That man still towers over you, toying with you. Blindly, you press your hands to his chest and you shove as hard as you could possibly manage. 

It does absolutely nothing. 

“No!” You bark, voice hoarse. “Get off of me!”

A third hand grabbing your wrist. You wail. When was this going to fucking end?

“No!”

There’s so many voices you can’t even comprehend it. They’re all far away and echoing like you're underwater, drowning. That’s exactly what it feels like. Drowning- sinking and suffocating and barely managing to pop your head over the surface just long enough to wheeze in a breath of life and start all over again.

You’re being touched everywhere and you just want it all to stop- every time you try to wrench yourself away it seems another grip just stops you. You’re covered in fucking hands and you can’t do anything to get them off of you. You just want this to be over with.  Waves are crashing over your ears.

You think you hear your name among them.

It’s faint, but it’s there. You know the voice. You’re dreaming, you think. 

You’re dying. 

“It’s me!” The man is holding your face in his hands. “It’s me!”

When you finally manage to open your eyes, you expect to see the man towering over you. Evil. Unrelenting. 

But it isn't. You see Gi-hun. 

There’s blood on his suit, cuts on his face. Fresh bruises are already appearing along his cheeks. His face lights up when you meet his vision. 

“There you are! It’s me!” He wraps himself around you like a shield. Bright light beams and shines into your eyes. There’s guards and guns as far as the eye can see. 

If this was the afterlife, you’d obviously been sent to hell. But, then again, there’s arms wrapped around you, petting down your back and cupping the back of your head. You can’t recall a time in your life you’d been held so… Tenderly. 

So maybe it’s heaven. 

You’re still numb, buzzing. Nothing feels real anymore. From over his shoulder you can see two figures- Ali and Sang-woo you realize, both wielding pipes and guarding. Ali in particular white knuckling a pole almost the same size as you. 

You’re alive. 

Holy shit, you’re alive. 

To your right, you see her again. 067.

She’s beaten and bruised up, but she sits back on her haunches and watches you regain whatever composure you were able to scrounge up. She gives you a single nod. 

Thank you. You nod back. Your ears ring. 

Oh, Gi-hun is still talking to you. He’s running his hand through your hair. It feels like you can breathe again. 

It’s me. You’re okay. It’s me.

Maybe it is heaven, after all. 

When he pulls back, you’re cold. Again. You don’t realize the way you chase him, arms coming out to grasp at his biceps, desperate to keep him there. You’re barely only some-what conscious, still reeling with the after effects of being mere seconds away from meeting your maker. He holds your hands in his, and then you notice the blood. It’s all over him, it’s all over you. Your hands, your arms. Down your shoulders and soaking into the collar of your track suit. There’s a metallic tang of blood on your tongue, too. 

Blood, blood, blood. 

“You hit your head,“ He says, noticing the way your breath sucks in sharply at the sight. “It’s just a cut And this-” His thumb swipes over your lower lip, a sharp sting in his wake. You hiss and recoil. “You’re good. See? You just bit your lip.”

You aren’t sure why he’s talking you through your own injuries, as if you can’t feel them pulsating and rocketing surges of pain up and down your spine. You aren’t even sure why you’re alive right now. 

“I’m good,” You echo him. You don’t feel good. “I’m good.”

Gi-hun rests a hand on your cheek, turning your head left and right, assessing you. He drags his thumb down your cheek bones, before he gently pats you. His eyes are tender, thankful. Pretty. 

“Get up.” Someone demands, their voice deep and testing. It’s a guard, you realize, standing feet away. Ali, Sang-woo, and 067 stand with their hands up, weapons discarded on the crimson splattered floors. Gi-hun hops to his feet and drags you up with him a little too fast for you to handle, your legs unable to hold the entirety of your weight. He hoists you up by the waist. 

“She’s hurt.” He tells the guard, as if they’d cared. As if they’d help.

When the person steps to you, tall and brooding with a O bore onto their mask, you almost think that maybe they would. But then they simply pat your pockets and move on just as fast as they’d arrived. Bodies are being carted out in coffins. There’s so much death it’s hard to believe. 

101 eyes you from the other side of the room and sneers. 

You don’t even care. Your head is pounding, your neck hurts. But you’re alive, so he could kindly go fuck himself.

Along the distant wall, standing on a top bunk, you see the old man. It almost brings tears of joy to your eyes. Everyone’s alive.

And once everything settles, the bodies dragged away, the guards filtering out, the remaining competitors regrouping to their little corners, you find yourself sitting among steps with everyone else. Tired, and sore. Gi-hun is saying something that you can’t quite tune into. Something about his bed tipping. You offer little to their conversations, eyes distant and vacant, reliving the night. Surprisingly, Sang-woo is what drags your attention back to the present. He reaches over Gi-hun and pats your arm. 

You’re embarrassed that you jump. 

“Thank you, by the way.” He says, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him look at you without this… Skepticism in them. 

“For what?” 

He notions towards Gi-hun. “For being on our side. I’m glad you’re not injured too badly.”

For a long, long moment you just stare at him. Your skin is warm. Maybe because your head was swimming. Maybe because now you were realizing you weren’t just sitting amongst them purely for survival. 

“Well, thank you too, for,” Your fingers reach up mindlessly and graze over the sore spots on your neck. “Being on my side. I would have died.”

Over light conversations, trust building, Gi-hun calls it, you learn 067’s name. Sae-byeok. 

Thank you, Sae-byeok.Even if I thought you were trying to kill me at first. 

“How’s your head?” Gi-hun suddenly asks. When you fail to answer quick enough for his liking, he knocks his knee against yours. You aren’t sure what to say. It fucking hurts, but you’d make it. 

Why did your chest feel so tight every time he asked? It was making your head pound even worse. 

It takes you the rest of that morning to realize you’d never truly, in your life, felt cared for. The thought makes your heart seize up in your chest. Makes your blood flash hot and cold at once. 

This was not the plan.

[verdantlights]

CHAT LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN

IF TILL WAS SHOT FATALLY IN THE NECK. HED BE DEAD IN LESS THAN A FUCKING MINUTE. A FATAL SHOT TO THE NECK HAS YOU DEAD IN A MINUTE. IF HE WAS STILL ALIVE AFTER MIZI GOT ONTO THE sTAGE, FIXED TILLS POSITION, PROPPED HIM UP, AND TOOK THE TIME TO PUT PRESSURE ON HIS WOUND..... YOU THINK THATD TAKE LESS THAN A MINUTE?? HE WAS STILL ALIVE AND WE ALSO HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG HE WAS SITTING THERE BEFORE "DYING"

ANOTHER THING. THE GUARDS THE TRACKER (either heartbeat or mood, i believe this was a mood tracker) TO MAKE SURE THE CONTESTANT IS DEAD.

MF LOOOOKKKKK

LOOOOOOOKKKKK (/ref)

THAT SHIT IS MOSTLY OUT OF HIS EAR, THEY CANT TELL IF HES DEAD OR NOT AND THEY CANT RISK SHOOTING HIM NOW BC OF MIZI. ESP SINCE MIZI IS ONE OF THEIR "SPECIAL GUESTS"

"oh but hes coughing up bl-" HE HAD A NOSE BLEED AND HES LAYING FACE UP. YOURE NOT SUPPOSED TO TILT YOUR HEAD THAT FAR BACK WHEN YOU HAVE A NOSE BLEED OR IT WILL FALL DOWN THE WRONG WAY AND INTO YOUR THROAT. HE COUGHED UP HIS NOSE BLOOD. ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING THE WAY ITS FLOWING DOWN HIS FACE. IF THAT HAD HAPPENED WHILE UPRIGHT, ITD BE LIKE HOW IVAN COUGHED UP BLOOD.

sure yes blood loss is another thing that could happen but listen to me. the way that he was shot, was not fatally. theres no way that this:

(ignore the yt) this is not how a gunshot to the neck from the RIGHT would look. this would only make sense if the person shooting him came from far behind him and slightly to the right. the bullet went through the side of his neck enough to cause the blood to splatter this way.

when shot by a bullet, the blood doesnt splatter out the entry point, it splatters out the EXIT point. i would know, im american (SLASH JAY THAT IS SLASH JAY FOR LEGAL REASONS THAT IS A JOKE)

anyways chat be honest am i crazy and delusional yes or no

@pwippy since we were going back and forth on the why/why not of all of this

[sharp-tooths]

Ok ok hang on cause ive been thinking about something in tristamp and i havent seen anyone else talk about it so i wanna ramble about my source of brainrot-

Tristamp rant w/ spoilers under the cut w/ some minor trimax/98 tidbits

And i cant believe no ones talked about it yet? Or maybe i just havent seen it, but in trigun stampede when Vash is fighting Livio on the sandsteamer and Livio kicks Vash away before Wolfwood gets to him and ya know how vash doesnt immediately get back up?

Well I thought that was kinda weird, considering youve got a guy whos clearly not there mentally with two automatic guns willing to shoot anyone who gets close to him, theres no way vash wouldnt get right back up to continue trying to stop him, but maybe hes trying to give wolfwood his chance, right? But then why does he stay down when Livio aims the gun at himself? For someone who can react fast enough to shoot a bullet out of the air with perfect aim, and wants to save everyone, why didnt he get up to stop him?

So in each rewatch of the show, i would keep looking, and i realized. Its another one of those small details that isnt ever acknowledged or talked about, but if you watch, Livio kicks Vash in the left side of his chest, and when Vash sits back up, he has his hand up over that side of his chest

We still havent clearly seen whats going on on the left side of Vash's chest in tristamp, but since theres clearly at least a scar there, and in trimax/98 he has a metal grate, its easy to come to the conclusion that whatever happened to the left side of his chest was(is) bad, if livio kicking him kept vash down long enough to be unable to save him from killing himself

I know its one of those things you can easily look over, as that would seem like a normal human reaction to having your chest kicked hard enough to send you flying back several feet, but taking into account that Vash is a plant with supernatural healing, and in episode 10 he just basically walks off a gunshot to the gut AND in ep 12 when hes shot down with MULTIPLE bullet wounds he still gets back up fairly quickly (considering a human would most likely be down and out for the count with 4(?) bullets in em) so im wondering if maybe in tristamp theyre even paying attention to the old injuries vash got that were bad enough to Scar a Plant that can Heal himself, and/or maybe how the metal implants in his body could affect him??

Cause i did also notice that tristamp vash had less visible physical scarring, but more metal implants, and im thinkin maybe theyre leanin into the "healing powers" plants have, meaning that maybe plants dont scar as easily as humans, like when wolfwood drinks his vials and ends up 100% fine after being turned into swiss cheese with no scarring (a separate post about conrad being a plant scientist) which ALSO means that any scars Plants DO get, means that it was REALLY. REALLY BAD. Also a separate post about trimax vash possibly going through a litteral blender to end up with those scars as a plant.

Aanyways im done chewing on tristamp for rn im falling asleep

[goobie-goo]

mwhahehehhaheha okay. this one is the lore/plot outline. have fun!!

TWs are added so i can keep track in notes and in case i share it,, like rn!! boy, im so smart!

tropes: walled-in city, corrupt gov leader, abusive parent + dead parent combo, dead main character, resistance/revolution, non-human, dystopian setting, floriography (flower language/meaning), royal main character, royalty, coming of age, ascension after death, death of a friend, gods/deities (always a work in progress)

TWs: [major+minor] death, main character death, temporary character deathS (canon. not mentioned in this lore timeline though), revolution/war setting, blood & injury, dystopian setting, abusive parent, child abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, suicidal thought/behaviors, gunshot wounds, implied character death(s), off-screen deaths (NPCs) (always a work in progress)

birth —> realization: royalty arc (aka people-pleaser arc)

dallas lived in a city ruled by evil king who kept them stuck in the city w large, heavily guarded walls. HAHAH evil ruler is HIS FATHER. abusive. think c!schlatt (was inspired by c!schlatt. literally not even a developed character. no name, no appearance—nothin’)

basically, dallas is the prince of the kingdom. hes not seen very well, often befriended/used for power by nobles, manipulated, gaslit, belittled, etc— doormat, people-pleaser, yes-man. yadda yadda.

when turns 13, he starts to realize that the way others are treating him is kinda… weird. begins to research about stuff and learns more. also develops sass + snark (however anxiety is still at peak bc puberty and stuff) and finds inner anger issues. doesnt show true self until he joins the resistance and starts trusting them. (also realized he was trans as used the name Krow as a placeholder bc he couldn’t decide on a name) (to clarify, he uses masculine terms and is transmasc)

age 15: walls arc

the age dallas officially joined resistance. did hang out with kids from resistance (alibi, juno, asmo) when age 13-14, but theres a policy of not joining resistance until 15– even if you werent going into a combative job.

soon seen as a high authority figure after he got peoples trust. how he got their trust? shot a royal officer at a riot. in the timeline, this was months after he joined. (king and army doesnt know bc resistance is undercover using fake names— if wanted, more detail can be provided about the fake names.) this was also when he earned his name Striker, which he then used as his name instead Krow. it was more of a title and not a true name, but there was more pressing things to worry about. (he grew attached.)

resistance communicates via floriography hung up outside the flower shop they turned into a meeting house— dont worry, its not too small because theres a secret base under it.

many members of the resistance also follow The Eyes, a different religion/spirituality from the royalites. it’s not like a godly religion ig,, idk how to explain. its more about acknowledging The Eyes and also appreciating nature. will be explained more in the worldbuilding section.

age 16: wilds arc

government started doing some Fucked Up Shit (tm) and riots n protests n revolts started popping up more n more often. however bc of the guards, they turned violent more often than not! (WHY? WHAT PUSHED THEM TO FINALKY PUSH BACK??) <- haha look plotholes point n laugh

ALIBI dies during a revolt— bleeds out in dallas’ arms.

citizens and resistance group started evacuating the city through underground tunnels— which leads to a few years in the wilderness and the apocalypse setting (WHY? WHAT PUSHED THEM TO FINALLY START EVACUATING? WHAT DID THE KING DO? fix.) <- haha look plotholes point n laugh

while escaping, theyre found out by guards. SKIP gives himself up as bait to lead the guards away from the group.

outside the walls, it’s basically like the mob or gangs. but less dying/fights and more survival— like those packs of humans in an apocalypse sticking together to survive. and the environment isn’t very good either- weather can differ easily. not many forests and its VERY hot bc global warming. however it gets freezing at night. but this doesn’t mean there aren’t forests, you will find some if you go far enough from the Walls.

the main group is the one that dallas leads— called the Copperheads. each member wears a compass as a necklace (like the tommy tubbo necklace compass headcanons- and like the one i have)

they traveled until they found an abandoned city. lived there and eventually rebuilt it. later named kismadoré.

-> more on this (ON TOPIC OF CULTURE): a good amount of people just escaped a walled-in city and are in the wilderness so theyre all homeless and considered nomads now. years later, they make a city and the cultural dances they did while on the run stuck w them. many seperate cultures irl have inspired it like the 1920s flappers, flamenco, street dancing, country swing, line-dancing, and soemthing like the tangled kingdom dance scene. its a lot of cultures bc of the different people mixing while on the run. but especially the 'embrace nature' thing they took on with some form of animism similar to indigenous cultures. (which the nature thing was integrated into the worship of The Eyes. feels weird to call it worship. they really do jist be like “okay cool you guys watch us and guide us thanks!” its connected but not?? it makes sense in my head)

age 18: rebellion arc

came back to the kingdom and the walls later to overthrow gov. yeahhh dallas was getting paranoid at kismadoré and waiting for the other shoe to drop. finally said “ykw? imma drop the other shoe myself” … also to free the citizens and tear down the walls

stayed underground and out if sight. many, many riots and revolts. tensions high in the kingdom, along with casualties.

dallas died when leading a coup d’état against evil dictator (from multiple gunshot wounds to fhe torso by a childhood friend indoctrinated into an enemy)

the only survivors of the cast (aka not NPCs) are asmodae and juno. they hold each other very closely.

after-death & godhood or whatever-the-fuck: death and onwards

bc he died a meaningful death, was taken by a god-species and now protects others like them

(and travels the multiverse but thats not important :3) <- MORE ON THIS LATER. IT IS ACTUALLY IMPORTANT.

and just because he’s dead, doesnt mean his story is over ehe *taps where i had written his age previously*

xi i hope u know that i am utterly obsessed with this story and would consume a 10 book long series about it. by the way

[askthesawyers]

I'm giggling this feels like an action movie)

He hesitantly looked at the mountains. "..maybe..you guys shoul-" then, he heard gunshots ring out. Fast, rapid, in spurs. Lizard didn't say anything else, freezing n staring. "..if you really wanna help you can." He shakily inhaled, before gripping his trap so it didn't fall, taking tf off. He was pretty fast at running. He was glancing around the ground and looking around the mountains sides as he approached..looking for any soldiers.

"T-theres um.." He skid stopped, glancing around. He ..had to make this easy. Deciding to calm down. "My ..family's not completely idiotic. I'll help you two climb." He mumbled, looking up and jumping, grabbing a ledge and easily pulling himself up,, leaning back against the mountain wall..keeping a close eye on them

The two of them followed Lizard just as quick, Chop jumped onto Lester back to get better height to climb the mountain, grabbing the same ledge and pulling himself up onto it. Lester on the other hand seemed nervous about even bothering with it.. he moved slightly further down the mountain, finding a less steep area of the mountain and climbing up onto that instead. "those gunshots didn't sound good one bit.." he muttered.

[insinirate]

love your fashion thoughts ^^

nai with the light and neutral palettes (either his preference or because they are easiest for him/he doesn't care to have anything more), dash of red if he has to be away from vash for a while. vash tells him blues bring out his pretty eyes so some blues occasionally. ALWAYS fancy ALWAYS on fleek, rockin the double br--

and then we have vash, who nai spoils and sugar babies with all the cutest and most fancy and expensive clothes, and vash is too Ouppy to wear them. nai gets him lots of reds bc he knows theyre his favorite and they help him calm down a lot. vash gets fussy with too many buttons or closures because he will ALWAYS be demanding belly rubs and rolling over in front of nai and pouts if theres too many fancy clothes in the way. but occasionally he likes to surprise nai and make him smile by putting on a particularly cute or suggestive outfit for him out of the blue ;)

i guess nai just supplies ww with the basic dark and neutral jackets, pants, and shirts, and ww is probably fine with that. as a form of security and intimidation around the house he needs to keep it professional and not too overdressed for his work. if anything, both nai and vash probably prefer him with less clothes on, as his body's quite handsome and maybe he's their favorite chew to--*gunshot*

OH and thinking of your comic, ww probably gets filthy all the time so, the less expensive and numerous clothing he has on, the less laundry nai has to do, the better x) maybe nai tried to teach him to do his own laundry for once and ww fucked it up SO bad,,,

nai dresses with a certain Vibe in mind (the vibe is Unapproachable)

nai also dresses ww with the same philosophy but a different method (nearly 100% of his clothes are in black, sometimes with turquoise accents to match his collar. mostly bc theyre easier to maintain and bloodstains/dirt tracks are easier to conceal until they can get replaced

+he also gets like a handful of grays and a singular white shirt. for the summer)

vash is a wildcard (he likes to dress casual, he likes to match with nai, he likes big coats but hates layers, he wants to cover up, he wants to be naked)

[amimuu]

*insert Ami dragging in a huge chalkboard filled with scrimbles and writings fitting to a madman* Ahem...hello...welcome to the tumblr post in which i explain my vision of how hbt au would be as a musical

Lets start (adding a keep reading so you dont have to scroll if ya dont wanna see it) ALSO. spoilers for hbt au in general including the things discussed over here, Heathers the musical and....Disney's Frozen...

so first of all I think the overall vibe of the music would change constantly as Mark's life goes on, at some points becoming lighter to signify positive changes or gaining new hope. Or the opposite, getting somber when a negative event happens.

ALSO! I think each character would get a "theme". Not directly a song. Just a part of it, a melody that incorporates into the main song each time said character sings or has a protagonic role in the song. Of course, some character's (Mark, probably) Do get their own theme song, and sometimes the lyrics of that could incorporate into other songs.

Also. ALSO. when I mention a song to reference to I mean referenxe the vibe the song gives unless I specify it otherwise

Alr i didn't really think of lyrics or names (just the vibe) so here's a list of how i think the songs would go. For now uhm...I'll give them placeholder names

No room for the both of us - Do I. need to explain. INWCT chapter 1. It starts with a phone ringing a lot as you hear someone making their way towards it, the music slowly building up until said person picks up and Alt!Cesar starts singing. ("Black out days" by the Phantogram mixed with "For the record" From 36 questions and a bit of "Kiss me (kill me) By JerryTerry. Im saying nothing else)

Warmth - Alt!Cesar makes his choice to keep Mark alive for a while but struggles with humanity in return. Warning! Lots of blasphemy in this particular song. He also talks a bit about the alternates and the morningstar....Not really sure how the vibe would go

Deer - Bambi ripoff bitch shows up. Alt!Cesar struggles even MORE with humanity (think of "Kiss me (Kil me)" by JerryTerry, mostly from the alternate's parts in which it sounds sickly Sweet yet creepy whenever it sings (Alt! Cesar does too at the start but it becomes less and less eerie as the songs go on), the song changes its mood whenever anyone else sings, and at the end the deer is cut off from singing by Cesar, who starts hitting it with a stick at the rhythm of the music, that has already shifted its vibe once again)

Bandages - That one part in which Mark is bandaging Alt! Cesar's hands and talking about his faith and stuff (The idea for the vibe is mostly soft, calm acoustic with no percussion ... I couldnt think of a song that fits the vibe ToT)

The truth - they report to Thatcher, head to the church and find the bambi rippoff bitch again. This song shifts povs between Mark and Alt! Cesar-deer also sings (Along with its Kiss me, kill me song vibe) but not a lot as it is consntantly cut off by Cesar. Theres an epic instrumental near the end as Alt! Cesar finally makes the choice to protect Mark-a mix between his theme and Alt! Cesar's (kind of like that one instrumental in "I hear a symphony". The rest of the vibe is pretty much... Tense) The music calms down after its over (maybe it could end with some violin?)

Crucifix - Confrontation between Mark and Alt!Cesar. This one particularly sounds somber, yet there is a little hope between the lines. The music and tension build up until it is cut short by a gunshot. After that there is soft music and a couple last words are sang, softly, no music in the background, by alt!Cesar. He sounds very sad :( (This one is kind of meant to sound like "I am Damaged" from the heathers musical)

---

10:15 pm - 10:15, saturday night. Mark is confused- very. Sad also. Very traumatized, definitely. Theres a couple call back to other songs as well as lyrics from songs to come.. It ends with him choosing to stick to his faith and calling Thatcher (Picture "the 30th" by Billie Eilish .u." for an idea of the vibe)

---

Cold glare - Mark's life from before he turned ten and stuff...bad times. This song is not meant to be completely and all sad as his mom is still there (this one is, actually Sang by present Mark, narrating back on the events)

Angel numbers - Mark makes a new friend :)! What could possibly go wrong? (this song ends with Mark's dad screaming- also there's a couple dialogue cuts.. I dont really have an idea of the vibe)

Cesar - Mark makes another new friend but this time it goes nicely. Cesar's introduction to the story (this song kicks off with their first interaction btw. Maybe there could be a song between angel numbers and this one to smooth out the events. There's a few dialogue cuts, mostly to highlight important events between the friends. Also, this song's lyrics get used in the future, as well as the melody, or a slightly changed version of it is meant to be alt!Cesar's "theme") (also for the vibe of this one i imagine something like "if i could tell her" from dear evan hansen mixed with a bit of "a better versión" from 36 questions)

Mother - More events on Mark's childhood, up until the events from the day his parents died..its kind of a reprise to the first song of this section but not really? Only the melody, Maybe there could be some shared lyrics. (This one in terms of vibes and bpm could be something like "astronomy" By conan gray...just that. Progressively growing more and more tense)

----

Mark Heathcliff - Thatcher's experience with Mark, from their first meeting up until the time in which Mark calls him after the events of INWCT. Meant to be relaxed and a bit sad at times- also forgot to say the shared melody present at "Mother/Cold glare" is Mark's theme- which is also present here, along with some lyrics. (For the vibe of the music i imagine something like "the story" by Conan Gray)

Roll along - Mark narrates his life after the events of INWCT. He's not doing really well but hey! He got a dog! (There are some parts in this song with small dialogue exchanges between Mark and Thatcher, mostly discussing Mark's "saintly duties"). Kind of like rolling girl but imagine an entirely different vibe but the overall mood of the lyrics is the same, Hence, roll along. (But uh in terms of song vibe picture "Dear Theodosia" from hamilton... With a few somber parts)

Crucifix (Reprise) - Mark meets again with a little someone...It doesn't go well. Have you watched the frozen movie? Yeah? remember that part in which Ana and Elsa have a reprise of that one Ana song and it ends with Elsa accidentally throwing ice into Ana's hearth? Well imagine that kinda buildup in the song as they argue, but when Alt!Cesar has enough and he pushes Mark the melody just goes into a religious chorus kinda melody (Picture the part in "Meant to be yours" in which J.D. forcefully enters Veronica's room and sees her "dead". Like that but slower and more...ethereal sounding sort of) Until its cut short by...Mark getting impaled. OOF

warmth (reprise)? - Not really a song, but yeah, but REALLY short. The lyrics change but the melody stays the same, just that...slower. Alt!Cesar is singing in a very low voice too. (Picture "some die young" by Gavin Mikhail- but a lot less instrumental) This one ends with Alt!Ces calling for help, specifially, the sound of waiting for his call to be connected.

----

Uncle - SO MARK AND DAVE MEET FOR THE FIRST TIME. Just that Mark is in a medically induced coma so.. Yeah. Dave talks about his past and his life with his parents.. Thatcher sings a few lines! Also between strophes you can hear the transcript of how Cesar's call for help went. (for the vibe its kind of like "Our Word" from the 36 questions musical... But mix it with a bit of "Non-stop" since there's a lot going on. Also its a pretty long song) This one probably ends with Thatcher saying something like "oh. Well..."

Talk - So this one is just. Soft. Thatcher is worried, Mark just woke up. And they talk. About...pretty much everything. The enviroment is pretty peaceful, yet...a bit sad. Maybe Thatcher brings up the call. Mark sure as hell mentions Darcy and they both laugh a bit at this. Probably by the end lol. (So for the vibes, picture "its quiet uptown" from Hamilton)

---

And...that's it. I am fried and this mostly were from the parts of the story that we have details off- so yeah hehe-

I think than an interesting one in the future would be about Thatcher's alternate experience...Mostly narrating what happens as the hours pass, with a very eerie tone and a few dialogue breaks from Mark, who is violently texting Thatcher (his voice is also audible in the background as Thatcher sings) until in the end Thatcer just begins singing in a very low voice after....getting rid of the bugs. And then BOOM Mark comes in(Ohhh i think the vibe of this one would be kind of like "El tango de Roxxane" From Moulin Rouge ohhhhh YEESSSSSS)

But...after that one. Yeah. No idea. Ooof. Well...I hope you enjoyed reading that cuz i sure had fun writin' it. (also finding song references for the vibes of some songs lmao)

[cinnachaos]

ok so morgan lore (sorry this is so long , ive had lore cooking for these guys for a while and i never really fully finished it but here it is) (aslo i typed this all out half asleep i kight edit it later but maybe not idk)

warning for death and schtuff below

he lives on an apocalypse-ish planet where there are frequent lockdowns because of the inner monster stuff (refer to that other infodumping post) and unfortunately beth and jerry both got stuck in monster rampaging form and had to be exterminated/couldnt be found or anchored back into human form (they dont currently have a cure but later on with rick and morgan home they make one)

summer has a missing arm from a fucky wucky with a monster so she uses a robotic arm , she also has a shorter cut thats a bit fluffier and she doesnt wear a ponytail

rick has to leave the universe because he had a Monster Momento and fucked with a group of ricks so he wanted to make sure his morty and summer werent brought into it (his original family is all gone, it took him a LOT of tries to find morgan and summer so he cares a shit ton abt them)

morgan goes oh shit what the hell and takes a portal gun his rick stole and tries to find him but miami morty/mimi sees him thinking hes a rogue morty and goes can we keep him pretty please rick and even after he says no shoots a morty manipulator chip at him and drags him home like a wet cat

they go on adventures together, morgan usually wearing headphones and using weapons based off of games he likes because he doesnt like killing things so he does that to make it less AAAAGH for him (ill send my five thousand headcanons for the miamis and canon stuff about the monsters later)

one time he has a Moment with his monster form because unlike rick who at this point has most control over it bc hes coped with his trauma fairly well after mimi and rick get hurt and they have to heal him since his monster form usually damages him a lot (mainly through bruising, and if he uses his spikes or blades, bleeding)

they have a lot of fun unnttiiilll monster rick/his original rick comes to take him home and mistakes them for kidnappers even though theyve been taking good care of him so they both get into a fight and monster rick decides to take him home and keep him in the morty mind blower area of their house until he remembers which causes a huge freakout on morgans behalf

the miamis and monsters (summer and rick) go find him but go oh fuck its those guys and fight and then morgan has to go like guys what the fuck i like both of you and consider both of you family can you STOP FIGHTING so they go oh uh ok and now they have to share custody of morgan /lhj

also yeah monster care/research was prioritized in earth mv87 12 (theres more but i forgor) and it eventually calms down from a mass epidemic to just mildly dangerous

heres an old doodle of them since u got to the wnd of the infodump 🎉🎉🎉 (idk when ill draw sumker maybe later, just probably wont be soon cus im not hyperfixated on r&m anymore even if i still like it😭)

actually fuckit im putting my headcanons n shit here

ok so mv87/monster things

★ morgan wears headphones while on adventures to avoid hearing loud noises like gunshots, usually listens to splatoon music on loop

★ morgan has a habit of doing splatoon win animations sometimes when he successfully finishes an adventure

★ morgan was originally caught by mimi with pocket mortys stuff, he considers both the miamis and monsters his family, also very close to chaos rick and morty (another friends rick and morty) (hyperions-world chars!!!)

★ morgan is very close to his ricks but kind of scared of other ricks, he knows they can be really mean and devalue their mortys and him being really sensitive/fragile he cant handle that

★ morgan iscomfortable with miami mortys (/p!!!) kisses on the head to him and loves physical affection from any of his family members/close friends even if hes like eeeeeeeeehhhh from other people

★ morgan has a bad habit of getting extremely attached to ricks very quickly and is like a nice rick magnet 😭 hes befriended multiple ricks in the citadel like cop rick and enthusiastically waves at them anytime he sees them

★ morgan sometimes sways back and forth like an inkling/octoling idol position and has a few weapons a rick made him based off of splatoon/pokemon that he uses CONSTANTLY and will never go more than 5 feet away from him at all times

★ morgan can and will pull all of his family members into his hyperfixes/sp/ins. he will. hes done it with splatoon and pokemon . he will drag you in eventually/j

★ monster rick is really stoic/apathetic looking but really deeply cares for his family and he doesnt apply to the typical rick "idgaf about u haha fuck u u little pussyfart morty" /LHJ he tries his best to be a good grandpa and guardian even with his traumas and inner monster dealio

★ monster rick is always partially in monster form cus he thinks it looks cool, he also has a tooth gap between his front teeth

★ the mv87s do not know what sleep is. they constantly have eye bags except for sometimes summer because shes the most early bird of them all and she is very responsible

★ morgan is trans , i am heavily debating on making summer trans too. maybe. m a y b e.

miami headcanons

★ miami rick spoils the shit out of miami morty even though he wont admit it to anyone and if morty brings it up rick lectures him on the way home/lhj

★ MIMI FUCKING LOVES MONSTER HIFH AND YOU WONT BE ABLE TO PRY THAT HEADCANON OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS

★ miami rick goes by he/she with close friends/family but he/him or he/they w anyone else

★ miami morty isnt as smart as rick but just about as powerful when it comes to strength and fighting smarts? not counting weapons and stuff

★ miami morty acts like an absolute angel around rick for the most part but is menacing as hell to people behind his back LMAO. oh and hes an absolute girlboss, a diva who could and would throw you out a window like an empty soda bottle

★ miami rick is very protective of morty in the way that if anyone makes him feel uncomfortable because of his outfit or if anyone hits on him or just any creepy things in general rick will hate crime them

★ miami morty likes to jokingly flirt but sometimes will accidentally do it with other mortys and go oh wait thats me oops. well its still funny

★ miami morty also has a habit of platonically kissing his friends on the cheek/head like you would a pet or something and then has to awkwardly explain its not romantic 😭😭 (some fanart relating to pcoket mortys gave me this idea actually)

★ miami rick lets morty paint his nails sometimes, begrudgingly but it makes morty really happy so he acts like he hates it to keep up appearances but likes seeing morty happy

★ MIAMI MORTY USES HIS LOLLIPOP AS A SORT OF ORAL STIM, morgan would probably get him something that wouldnt murder his teeth to have in his mouth n stim with

★ mimi he/any moment

AGH. OK. FINALLY DONE. there. this is all like months old please excuse that i mostly am involved in like sploon and pokemon since theyre sp/ins not just hyperfixes lol

[i-bit-the-dust-it-was-yummy]

Some say it takes an amount of bravery, or self assurance to proudly fight on the front lines of world wars, others say it takes a strong selfless individual.

But the truth is it takes being an immortal being.

Arlo has lived through every single war since the beginning of time, and has fought in most of them. Wherever, whenever it was, Arlo was somewhere there. Changed name, changed hair, changed anything. Still Arlo was there. He had lost count of the wars he’d fought in, the armor he’s worn, the names he’s had to change. The funerals he’s planned. It’s always the same beginning to be pointless in there petty fights, mortals always started them, and he had a free year or 2 to have a detour from usual activities. The battle Fields where always gory this one in particular, World War III. Theres shooting everywhere, blood everywhere. Bombs going off every 5 to 6 hundred yards. The gas mask he needed to wear was useless, unneeded ,it was just really itchy to him. He could’ve been in any other war ground and it would’ve been the same, smoke, blood, bodies. The screaming and Gunshots were there too, just not visually.

„Arlo!“ He heard a muffled yelp of his name about 3 feet behind him.

Pale-ish, tan-ish man stood before him a few moments later, a ‚boy‘ named Ben beside him. Every few decades, give or take, He would find a mortal who he stuck by until he had to kick the fake bucket. Ben Happens to be that said character for the past 2 years so far. Arlo didn’t have issues with him and he was rather, nice and had great ideas. Except going into the battlefield with Arlo.

„Yeah? Ben?“ Arlo yelled in a sort of raspy yell, „Aren’t you supposed to be more northwest than here?“

Arlo needed to be alone when in came to situations like this. The whole, can’t die thing ‚freaked‘ mortals out a bit.

„I wanted to make sure you where safe though!“ Ben made a soft smile even with his roguish look.

„You’re always like thi-.“ Arlo went to make a sarcastic comment to his friend but realizing a bullet nearing Ben‘s head.

Ben drops to the ground. A tiny tear drops from Arlo‘s face before he continues on.

It ended a lot the same either Arlo faking his death, or his friends dying near him like Ben. Although being an immortal being he often wondered if it was a curse set apon him. Some cruel joke. Arlo army crawls near a spot he needs to before jumping out and shooting a group of 4. He continues walking farther from enemy cam closer to a cavern blood smeared on the walls in a large stain on the right side of the cavern.

A bomb goes off near. More screaming.

He continues walking wiping the blonde from the group of threes blood from his camo. He makes it to a much more secluded area. He sees a few enemy camps about roughly 300 ft ahead of him and none of „his“ side anywhere to be found. He’s safe to walk there without coverage. He was anyways but less people the better. He hates being stared at. He walks a bit closer to the camps, about 150 feet left. The grass crunching beneath his boots.

*BANG*

A gun fires at Arlo‘ head, leaving nothing not even a red mark where he had gotten shot from behind. He wipes the back of his head. When a voice comes from a bit farther from the shooter.

„WHAT THE HELL?“ screamed the the commander before he dropped to the floor.

He wasn’t as alone as he thought apparently.

you are soldier who served in every war known to man you are immortal one day in the middle of WW III you were shot in the head thinking nobody saw you continue firing until your commander yells “what the hell”

[b0mblover]

.

By: J

major tw; minor ed/ weight loss mention,

the absolute biggest tw for suicide, really just probably dont read this at all if youre suicidal, or prone to it, or uh really just not good in the slighest,

i uh, talk about in detail ways i could kill myself, really, i don’t recommend reading this unless like, you need a refrence on how highly suicidal people speak 💀

ah but srsly, probably dont read this for your own sake, im basically venting on alt, but like, not poetically in the slighest, theres only so many ways a guy can rephrase wanting to kill himself without being direct kay?

uh, probably dont worry abt this, i uh, even if i /did/ try to kms id probably survive, dont put that much faith into me

ok nvm irl i just spilled my goddamn penrice im gonna actually kms this is my breaking point (hard joke)

ugvfnd god im so sorry for writi g this and postint it, i cant do the whole keeping my feelings to myself anymore, its awful.

CHOEKS imagine this is jiro nitos suicide note or smth and critize it I DONT KNOW 😭 please laugh, im trying to hard to deflect from how awful i feel.

i urge to you turn back and not read this.

-from this point on, i am not responsible for how anyone interprets this/does because of this, you have been warned, this is the writer venting and being highly suicidal, no one is forcing you to read this. if you cannot deal with this, then dont read it, im not responsable for how others react to my writing, for your own sake. again, you have been warned-

i apologize for writing this.

words are escaping me at the moment.

ill probably be fine.

im human in the end.

something we all can agree on.

every sign points to it.

it is in the end correct.

but now,

i question if im even enough to deserve the title.

my anger is consuming me over nothing.

at the same time.

i feel so numb.

my throat feels tight.

like im going to cry.

my vision is blurry.

and yet.

as always.

i cant.

i wont.

im tired of the “sympathy” 

someone like me doesnt deserve it

i dont deserve it.

i dragged myself into this hell.

and im not getting myself out.

i said that the next time i fucked up i would kill myself.

here we are.

still- annoyingly- alive.

i dont know if ill try.

i dont feel.

scared.

to try.

pills, a noose, drowning, gunshot, razor blades, 

i know about every way to kill myself

i have about every way to kill myself

and yet

im still here.

alive.

my noose, sits beside my on the door, id have to move my chair, get a stool,

the last time i tried it didnt break,

and ive lost around 10 pounds, i know it wouldnt break, i know it would work, but as last time, it took too long, i got bored, ‘came to my senses’

the pills on the table, i know of at least three medications in them that would kill me, not to mention the combinations, but, i cant normally swallow pills well, i usually end up gagging, plus, getting your stomach pumped is really costy,

the water would be, rather easy i believe, ive only tried it once, but, after she tried to do that, i dont know if i could even force myself underwater, even to kill myself,

the gun that resides on that same table, it works, i have two bullets that fit it, no more, no less, i know it still works perfectly, granted being older than me, it probably would be my best chance, but, i - well, i cant say i remember the parts to shoot that are vital, thatll finish the job, and i really rather not waste my bullets and money on surviving,

the razor blades on my desk, everywhere, the black letters on the box reading “do it” only feels more like a calling, but, even when i try to cut deeper, i almost never can unless on accident, no matter how hard i seem to press- no matter how quickly i do it, i can never seem to get past the first layer of skin, 

i, really- really dont know what to do,

i said id attempt, i fucked up, im tired of people seeing this awful side of me, but when thats almost all you have left of what you can barely even call ‘you’. 

the only way i see my life going.

is ending.

weather the original plan,

suicide,

an accident,

i know in the end im destined to kill or get myself killed.

i truly don’t believe that ill die of anythint “natural” unless you consider jumping off a roof natural.

in a way, i want to listen to what she says,

to give up on art, become a scientist.

i know its not even possible,

its just my own sense of punishing myself, because the mental pain of knowing that i shouldve died years ago stings so much more than my arms ever will, hurting myself, barely hurts, and i know that the only person that it would hurt from- wont. 

even if i were to beg, plead, i know they wont.

its almost june.

i 

i dont really think i want to live to then,

im 

im scared that last year will repeat itself,

i dont know if its rightful,

but i want to get out of their life,

i dont want them to suffer like they did,

i dont want anyone to suffer besides myself.

and.

i believe that taking care of me.

is suffering.

therefore.

the only thing i feel i can do.

is leave.

i dont want to leave.

i want to stay with them.

but.

im horrified that ill fuck up again.

and no one needs to deal with that.

besides.

people get bored of others.

move on.

i seem to always be the only one who cant.

i know how illogical i sound.

i know that.

but to me it makes perfect sense.

its clear.

im so sorry.

[izusun]

love is real in bakudeku

[angeloncewas]

hello fav slam poem !!!!

OKAY SO (I'm gonna overshare here, bear with me)

Back in the olden days (2015 at the earliest, since that's when this video was posted) my favorite slam poem was Manic Pixie Dream Girl by Olivia Gatwood. Gatwood writes a lot of feminist works, with a sharp voice to match, and while looking back on it I definitely wouldn't call it her best work (like if you asked me to recommend a poem of hers to you I wouldn't pick this one) at the time it was everything to me. I memorized it. I was obsessed. And there's all sorts of self-psychoanalysis (ha) I could do about that, but I think a lot of it has to do with the stage of life I was in; the idea that I could fix someone and fix myself by proxy (real viral Tumblr post of me) and the anger in her voice as she says it all (I was quite an angry person). I had this idea in my head that if I was going to be my "true" self-destructive self, I was gonna do it in the manner of a manicpixiedreamgirl, a la the poem. I was gonna be character development for whoever's story I was living in if nothing else.

In the years since I've been through a lot, both positive (like finding out that I'm not in fact a girl at all, at least not in any traditional sense of the word) and negative (a bit of a c!Niki arc for me) and I had this weird moment relatively recently where I saw it reflected in my taste.

My favorite poem now is A Place Where Someone Loves You by Neil Hilborn and it's much quieter than anything found in Gatwood's (justified!) female rage. It's darker at face-value, I think, since it openly talks about the destruction that's all implied in the other poem, but it also reads as incredibly raw - and hopeful in that way - to me. Life doesn't twist into some magical fairytale even when you're "better," y'know? The things I am burdened with - and the things I think a lot of other people with trauma or mental illness or even just a lot to handle are burdened with - are a part of the life we keep living. But we keep living it. And some days it's so difficult it feels like it's never gonna be okay again and some days it's so easy it's almost like I can't remember when it wasn't, but every day there is something that keeps me going. Something that promises me -

"There is a place where someone loves you before and after they learn what you are. That place is called the world."

- just like the poem does. And it's everything to me.

[conanssummerchild]

finallly analising this jdskdjsksj

okay so to start off, the song summer child is pretty much about a person who is hurting, who's struggling but people dont notice, just to summarise it very very quickly. there is so much more to the song tho, and i'll get into that now.

and disclaimer in case i make someone mad, im not saying that mike fits every word of the song, this isnt even rlly an analisis, more of like a silly thing i decided to make so no one come for me 😭 i am interested in hearing ur opinions tho

so anyway, conan starts the song with the lyrics

so with that first line hes saying smth like you see beauty even when there is none, or even when no one else does and in s1 yk how mike is tho only one who wants el to stick around, yeah. also when theyre getting bullied by troy and he says to dustin that he thinks its cool, like he has a superpower like the x men or smth (cant quite remember it)

anyway i dont have much to say abt line two but with all the shit they went thru with the upside down, its hard to imagine he wouldnt be at least a little afraid of the dark at night (also when i was little i was rlly scared of the dark and i kin mike so what i say goes /j)

(TW SELF HARM) i rlly cant say much abt the next line without turning this into projection central, but what i take from this line is conan talking abt self harm, i rlly dont know if this could b interpreted any other way tho? anyway its not that i think mike hurts himself, and there is no evidence in the show claiming he does (at least none that i know of, if there is tell me so i can project harder) but one time back when i got sent to therapy (and refused to talk to my therapist abt anything but mike wheeler) she tried to get deep w me and told me that a lot of people self harmed because they bottled up their feelings so much that in the end that was the only release they could get or theyd like explode, smth abt ppl who felt too much too big. ngl i dont rlly remember but honestly thats so mike wheeler if u ask me (what my therapist said)

ok so this is what i meant when i said not everything fit exactly, bcs while i dont think ted is a good father, i also dont think hes 'mean' in the way i think conan means it

green = byler. mindblowing ik /s

anyway the last two lines i feel like are less abt someone specifically running through sprinklers on their street and more about how when u were younger things were more simple and imo an important part of mikes arc is how he tries to make himself grow up faster, only to later mourn the better days that he lost and it was his fault, and if u ask me this part of his arc has to do with neurodivergency and maski- [GUNSHOTS]

ok and so we get to the part that made me start to think mike was summer child coded, mikes whole little pretense game he has going on, hiding parts of himself he feels arent good enough for people to see, how people have ignored and dismissed his feelings so many times to the point that he just gives up on trying to talk about them, how he struggles with his depression (yes i am a therapist i can officially diagnose him /j) but still puts so much time and effort into helping other people, he's selfless to a fault, to the point that hes hurting himself more than anything else.

how theres always a part of him in the dark, never quite revealed to the audience, portraying how he never fully reveals it to his friends.

so once again i'll mention how ppl have always dismissed and ignored mikes concerns and struggles to the point where he starts to just keep it to himself, and acts angry or grumpy when rlly there is so much more brewing under the surface he just doesnt think he deserves for someone to care, or even just directly thinks they dont care anyway

and ive tried to stay mostly partial so far and not bring up will or mikes sexuality, but in the end i think him being gay is an important part of his arc and definitely present in his struggles and the second to last line makes me think of will being shown to be like mikes sun (his heart ;)) and how hes keeping up a pretense about the way he really feels both about will and el to everyone but himself (no i dont think hes clueless ._.)

so this is actually the part that made me make the original post bcs hello?? the first three lines, did conan just literally write this song about mike wheeler?? mikes self sacrificial nature is something that comes up repeatedly, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. that boy would do anything for his friends, and im not even gonna get into the cliff scene bcs we'd be here all night. but like i was saying, the rest of the lines reference how mike sees the beauty in things others dont, EXCEPT when it comes to himself.

yeah, when it comes to himself he won't see the best parts of himself, only the bad, its up to a bystander (will?? the audience? mikes self concious, or is that too far-fetched?) to quietly observe the way hes falling apart

anyway slay that was bad and long and also excuse any spelling mistakes and incoherency its like 1 in the morning where i live so im analising mike wheeler, as any sane person would. once again, this isnt a proper analisis just something i pulled out of my ass so idk

@apocalyptic-byler no pressure to read this nonsense but u said youd b interested and i said id tag u so here it is lol

Mike Wheeler is so very summer child coded. There, I said it.

[shortestcake]

hi i just recently got into arcane and i absolutely love it VI IS SO FINE AHHH so imma make a request about her!!

So im thinking Vi x fem!reader, after Vi gets out of prison she visits her long lost girlfriend (long lost? idk if thats the right wording but they havent seen each other cause vi was in prison 🤷🏾) who thought Vi was killed so theres a lot of tears and its angsty and they hug and catch up with each other and its overall really cutesy!!

RAIN CHECK

Pairing: Vi x reader

Pronouns used: none

Gendered terms: none

Genre: angst+fluff

// mentions of injury/blood

"I think we're gonna have to take a rain check on our date." A young Violet mumbled into your hair. She sat beside you while her hand rested on your opposite shoulder. You chuckled, burying your head deeper into the crook of her neck.

"We just ran halfway through the Undercity from enforcers, and that's your priority?" A smirk bloomed on her face as she proudly proclaimed that you'll always be her "number 1 priority."

"Shush, you sap." You knew Vi wouldn't listen on her own, so you made sure of it by gently kissing her lips. That kiss was followed by many, many more pecks, your shared giggling heard between every single one of them.

A small smile grew on your face as you reminisced on the bittersweet memory of your first and only love yet. You continued to fill Ran's glass with an alcoholic drink, sliding it across the counter to them once filled.

After Vi's arrest, you picked up a job at The Last Drop. Although you didn't exactly enjoy working for Silco, it was one of the best positions to hold in the Undercity. You also got to stay close to Jinx as a bonus.

As the end of your shift approached, you alerted Theorem you'd be in the back, packing your stuff.

You quietly made your way back home, walking through some of the more subdued streets of Zaun. However, this time they weren't as peaceful as usual. You groaned when you heard the familiar grunts and bangs from street fights, annoyed that even the silent streets you lived in were being disturbed by brawlers.

While preparing yourself for what was probably the disturbing image of two drunks hassling each other that you'd witness once you turned the corner.

"Where are they? Where's he keeping them?"

You froze, immediately identifying the voice as familiar but not recognizing whose it was.

You laid your hand and head against the concrete wall, listening in on their conversation.

"Keeping them? They work for him."

This voice you immediately realized who belonged to, Sevika. She came by The Last Drop daily.

Shocked and intrigued, you finally peeked around the corner to see whoever was brave enough to fight Sevika.

A woman sat on top of Sevika, back facing you. You were more than surprised to witness what seemed to be Sevika's first losing battle.

Still unable to identify this strange woman, you listened intently to their chat.

"Jinx is like his daughter." The brute spoke in just above a whisper. It seemed that the more context you got, the less sense everything made.

You winced when Sevika used her metal arm to stab the woman, shoving her aside to stand over her. "I'll give her your regards." she drew her steel arm back, preparing to officially end the fight, along with her opponent's life.

Boom

A loud gunshot rings through the air, catching you completely off-guard, almost causing you to stumble backward. You were so focused on uncovering who this mystery lady was that you didn't notice the woman aiming a gun straight at Sevika

The brute begrudgingly fled between some narrow alleyways, small splotches of shimmer following in her path.

Now you could get a proper look at the woman who had captivated so much of your attention.

You almost choke, instantly realizing why that stupid, stupid voice intrigued you so much.

She was alive? Where has she been all this time? How long ago did she come back? Who was the lady with her? Wait, is that an enforcer?

So caught up in your own head, you didn't notice you began walking towards her. An unreadable expression on your face while you approached Vi.

“Stop, what do you want?”

The taller woman, who shot at Sevika earlier, was now holding the same gun in your direction.

Her stern voice snapped you out of your trance, making you scoff when you saw the gold accents on her riffle, her shiny and well-kept boots. 'A Topsider' you thought, the only person who could see you as a threat in this situation.

But before you could give her a snappy retort, Violet had her arms wrapped around you. Although it was evident she was struggling to even stand, it didn't stop her from holding your frame tight enough to nearly cut blood circulation.

"God, I missed you." She whispered into your hair, voice soft and shaky.

You must've dreamed about this moment dozens of times in the past seven years, imagining what you'd say to her, telling her how much you missed her, how worried you've been.

But even after almost a decade of fantasizing about this, all you could muster up was a sob as your hands latched onto the back of her hoodie, twisting the fabric between your knuckles.

This only encouraged her to hold you tighter, "I'm so sorry I was gone, I w-wanted to come back, but I got arrested and-" Her rambling was cut short by a fit of coughs rupturing from her chest. She pushed back slightly so as not to cough on you. That's when you noticed the blood on your torso, which seeped from Vi's wound onto your clothes.

"Jesus, Vi." deciding to temporarily put your reunion aside, you swung Violet's arm over your shoulders, placing your hand around her waist to help carry her. The woman she was with doing the same, whatever impression she might've had of you before disappearing.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?”

“Those aren’t so easy to come across here.”

“Easy, easy.”

You laid Vi against the walls of her old home. Caitlyn, you understood her name was, stood outside, giving you both privacy.

"I missed you." Violet mumbled, grabbing your wrists gently.

That was your breaking point, the tenderness in her hold, how careful she always was with you. It was like a strong tide breaking down your dam.

A sob wracked through your body as you laid your head against her shoulder, the many emotions that you've been avoiding flooded your senses at once.

"I thought you were dead, you asshole!"

"Y-you can't just disappear and come back like it's nothing!"

Vi didn't say anything, patiently listening to you pour your heart out, rubbing your back as you continued to cry. Tears gathered in her own eyes as she listened to your sobs.

Once your borderline wails had turned into quiet sniffles, she placed her hand on top of your head, kissing it repeatedly.

Now practically sitting on her lap, you tilted your head up, observing her features. Although her face had matured, her cheeks were less round, her jawline more defined, she was still as beautiful as ever.

The way she was staring at you made your longing to kiss her harder and harder to ignore. And as much as you wanted to indulge your impulse, you couldn't help but question if it was right. Hell, it'd been seven years, were you even still dating? Just because you didn't move on didn't mean she couldn't.

Your doubts were quickly swept away when Vi leaned downed, stopping right before your lips, letting you pull away if you wanted to.

Smiling slightly, you closed the gap between you two. Violet sighed into the kiss, moving her hands to hold the back of your neck while you cupped her face.

A love-sick smile plastered on her face when you rested your foreheads against one another.

"So, how does tomorrow sound for our date?"

(I'm working though my requests! I have a few old ones so I appreciate the patience❤)

[softersynths]

okay. bibi is .. a very badly failed attempt by the resistance to remove combine neural augmentation. they are found half-dead after the battle for white forest and an attempt is made to ""save"" them by resistance medics. its not really ethical (eli and kleiner are very displeased to learn about it) considering they cant consent to any of it, but theres a lingering unease about what exactly the combine does to people and a need to know (and to know if it can be undone)

more notes:

- gets shot in the head in white forest and survives. It damages their neural augments. their brain is severely fucked - both from the initial combine augmentation, the gunshot, and the subsequent experimental surgery.

-theyre no longer automatically loyal to the combine/hostile towards rebels. however, they aren’t hostile towards lingering combine forces, either. the only thing that consistently registers as an enemy to them are feral aliens and zombies. for a while after waking, they are easily made nervous, and thus aggressive. they need patient and gentle handling to level themselves out.

-has moments where combine programming seems to kick back in - almost exclusively when engaging in or witnessing violence. rather than a flip in allegiance, they become indiscriminately aggressive and will attack anything in close range, friend or foe. they eventually come out of these fugues if given a peaceful environment. for their own sake and the sake of others, they are kept away from violent situations as much as possible. In general, bibi tends to pick up on the atmosphere around them, and in a peaceful environment, they will pose no risk, while in a space where ppl are nervous and uneasy, they may be more unpredictable. they basically see everyone as an "ally", until confronted with violence, at which point the blanket perception switches to "enemy"

- can't really speak. In my headcanon combine soldiers radios are "built in" to their anatomy/mask, and they have radio speak they are programmed to use. Bibi speaks in combine radio chatter, communicating through set phrases. Due to damage, sound of it is distorted, similar to the glitchy pinging and snarling of Zombine radios. Eventually, they is able to chop and screw the programmed phrases a bit to allow themselves more variety.

- favorite stock phrase is "sector is... ghhghk... nottt secure", which they use whenever there's something "wrong", from there being a headcrab around the corner to someone leaving cabinets open in the kitchen.

-fairly passive most of the time. Shambles about like a sleepwalker. can be nudged into doing simple tasks and chores. mostly docile and obedient, but can randomly become very stubborn

-is learning to cook. The frilly apron was put on them so that people would be less nervous around them. They like it, and will wear it randomly, even when not cooking.

-likes to stare at the ocean, or other idly moving things, like swaying branches.