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Hwang In-ho and Seong Gi-hun are both alive

Reblog while it’s true

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this photo is absolutely insane and i want to personally shake the photographers hand because what the fuck

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im here. i'll be here until june 27th.

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post-games inho moodboard

this is what he looks like in my head in every ‘he stays with gihun at his motel after the games’ plotline.

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ONE WEEK TILL WE SEE GIHUNS LIFE FALL APART AGAIN 😻😻

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Illustrations by Trevor Henderson on Instagram

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Would u guys still love me if I started spreading frontsales propaganda

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what do you mean that squid game drops season three next friday?

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put in the tags:

your first concert

your last concert

your next concert

your favourite concert

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bestie, this better not be a foreshadowing 😭

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my best (worst) inhun work yet

(extract from another inhun canon-divergence i’m writing)

Inho had loved her like a man loves the sun: worshipful, certain she would always rise again. Her death was not just a loss; it was a collapse of the axis upon which he turned. After her death, he did not mourn so much as harden. Grief, in him, took the shape of stone. Women became ghosts—seen, never touched. He would never love again, he told himself, not because he couldn’t, but because to love would be to betray the grave.

But fate is a vicious playwright. And Gihun entered like a curse written in flesh.

A man, yes—but not simply that. A force. Gihun walked like consequence, spoke like judgment, and looked at Inho as if the sight of him soiled the world. And yet—yet—he drew Inho’s gaze like iron to the lodestone. There was ruin in his posture, a beauty sharpened by rage, and something animal beneath it, something that promised both violence and the possibility of being known.

Inho told himself it was guilt. He told himself it was punishment.

But it wasn’t.

It was hunger.

Not clean hunger. Not the romantic ache of poets.

It was darker—a desire to be hated, devoured, undone.

To be dragged down from the altar of control by the very man who despised him most.

Inho hadn’t meant to feel anything. He had built entire worlds out of control just to avoid that. But desire didn’t knock politely. It dragged its nails across the inside of his skull, and Gihun’s mouth—sour with whiskey and bitten words—began to look like something he wanted to taste.

He would never love a woman again; that much was true.

He didn’t know if it was love, or penance, or some slow, exquisite self-immolation.

But he could love this man.

Not in daylight, not in peace.

In fists and fury.

In the trembling second before Gihun’s hatred curdled into something baser.

In the feral flicker of eye contact held just too long.

And perhaps this—this vile, aching want—was the last truth he had left:

That he could love a man who wanted to destroy him.

And that he wanted to be destroyed.

By him. And no other.

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me because i really wanted gihun to be suicidal and beg to die and for inho not to allow him to, like he has power over gihuns life or death, but now its basically canon so idk what to think

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THESE NEW CLIPS HAVE ME SO STRESSED. (1) my heart breaks for gihun. (2) INHO YOU’RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE. I SEE THE MANIA IN YOUR EYES AND THE CLENCH IN YOUR JAW. (3) this confirms to me that the alcohol has to be a crutch

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i'm going to freaking lose it

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chapter 3 is up : >

working on an inhun fic with dom/sub dynamics. hope you'll give it a read, if interested! 🌻

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LOSING MY MIND RIGHT NOW

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galaxy-brained people on twitter had a vision so i wanted to do something quick with it 👀