#are any of my moots here still alive or

[fmanime]

its baffling knowing that theres a website that holds all my unfiltered thoughts and terribly drawn yaoi from when i was 15 years old that i can access at any time. thanks tumblr

[lustlvii]

May I request a San and Mingi x reader fic? Maybe as a Mafia AU where the reader (fem) is from the enemy family and she’s there to discuss business with them. Something ensues, tension builds.

A smutty one if possible lol. Go wild. Love ur fics and would love to be mutuals!

got some nerve. San , Mingi x Female!reader [MAFIA AU]

Including: Choi San and song mingi

Warnings: Mafia AU, threesome, double penetration, oral (m receiving), like one ass slap, name calling (slut, angel), floor sex basically, spit (MINGI DOES IT LIKE ONCE), This is long and dirty so 😍

Authors note: sorry Anon this took awhile to write!! And yes ofc let's be moots 😽😽🤭 guys I think I enjoy this 🫨 but it's also very long :(

The room smelled like burnt cigars and sandalwood cologne, thick with a silence neither of you cared to break.

You sat, legs crossed at the knee, eyes flickering between the two men at the other end of the table. Mingi leaned back, shoulder brushing San’s as he toyed with a toothpick between his lips, expression unreadable behind the dim glow of low light. San, on the other hand, was all sharp lines and smirking eyes, elbows on the table like he owned the space. Like you were already his, in some twisted way.

"You’ve got some nerve showing up alone," San said first, voice smooth but edged like a blade. "Pretty little thing from that family thinking she can waltz into our territory with demands."

You smiled. Not sweetly. Not apologetically.

"Correction," you said, fingers tapping slowly against your glass of untouched whiskey. "I came with an offer. You want to talk nerves, let’s talk about how you two didn't bring backup either."

Mingi chuckled, low and lazy. "Didn’t think we’d need any. Not for you."

"That confidence is going to get someone killed one day," you murmured.

San tilted his head. "Is that a threat?"

"Not yet."

The silence crackled between the three of you like thunder waiting to break.

San leaned forward now, gaze fixed on yours like he was trying to peel layers back with his stare alone. "You think we’re stupid? Coming in here talking truce like it doesn’t reek of setup?"

You met his gaze evenly. "I think you're smart enough to know that sometimes the enemy of your enemy is worth keeping alive."

Mingi’s eyes narrowed, finally discarding the toothpick. "You mean Jang’s crew. You want us to believe you'd rather help us than see your own family win?"

"Let’s just say…" you said, finally picking up the glass and sipping slow, "I believe in personal survival more than loyalty. And your rivals don’t discriminate when they put a bullet between someone's eyes. Family name or not."

They didn’t say anything. Not for a moment.

Then San’s tongue clicked behind his teeth. "I don’t trust you."

"You shouldn’t."

"But I want to hear more."

Mingi nodded. “You’ve got five minutes, angel.”

You set the glass down with a soft clink, the whiskey untouched again.

"Jang’s expanding. Fast. Too fast," you said, voice even, laced with something just beneath the surface — a dare, maybe. "And he’s not doing it clean. Half of his new muscle is ex-military. The other half? Trigger-happy kids with something to prove. You think this territory of yours is safe?"

San leaned back slowly, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. "We can handle Jang."

You nodded once. "Maybe. But how many casualties are you willing to stomach first?"

Mingi crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes still fixed on you, watching every breath, every flicker of expression. "Why do you care? If he takes us out, that just clears the board for your people."

"My people," you scoffed under your breath, lips twisting. "Would gut me the moment it benefits them. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to survive. That’s the difference between me and them."

San’s eyes didn’t leave yours, but there was a new glint in them now. Curiosity. Maybe even respect. "And what’s your plan, little traitor?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Information. Routes. Names. I give you access to what Jang’s trying to hide. You hit them before they move. In exchange, I walk when this is over. Clean. Untouched. No ghost on my back. No bullet in mine."

Mingi let out a low whistle. "That’s a lot of trust you're asking for. Dangerous thing to gamble in our world."

"And yet," you said, standing slowly, voice lowering just enough to tighten the room’s tension like a noose, "you haven’t told me to leave."

You stepped around the table now — not rushed, not fearful — until you were standing directly across from the two of them. San’s hand twitched once near the pistol at his waist. You smiled, slow and knowing.

"Am I close enough for you to shoot, San?" you asked. "Or is it that you just don’t want me to leave yet?"

His gaze was sharp. But he didn’t answer.

Mingi sat up straighter, jaw ticking. "You’re a pretty girl with blood on your hands. We’ve killed for less than the name you carry. And yet here you are."

"Here I am," you echoed.

For a long beat, no one moved. The city outside the window pulsed like a heartbeat, muffled by the glass and the weight of what hung in the air between you all.

Finally, San stood, slow and deliberate.

"Three days," he said. "If the intel checks out, we talk again. If it doesn’t—"

"I know," you cut in. "I’ll be the one in the body bag."

Mingi chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. "You really do have some nerve."

San’s stare hadn’t moved from you since the word “walk” left your lips.

But when you stepped closer, just within arm’s reach, his fingers curled around your chin without hesitation.

“Untouched, huh?” he murmured, tilting your face up. His thumb swept over your bottom lip like he was checking for a lie. “Bet that mouth’s told more stories than your eyes ever will.”

“Want me to tell you one?” you breathed, lashes low.

San’s smirk was sharp enough to cut. “No,” he said. “I want you to show me.”

Behind you, Mingi stood as well—slower, heavier, the sound of his chair scraping against the concrete floor echoing like a countdown.

Your breath hitched.

Two predators now circled.

San’s grip slid to your throat—not choking, just holding, commanding. “On your knees, angel,” he said, voice so low it barely qualified as sound.

You sank without protest.

“Good girl,” Mingi muttered behind you, dragging his palm across your cheek once, affectionate in a twisted way.

The clink of a belt unbuckling made your stomach flutter. San tugged his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring free—hard, flushed, already leaking. He tapped it twice against your lips.

“Open wide. Don’t make me ask again.”

You did.

He slid in slowly at first—almost gentle—but that mercy vanished the moment your tongue flattened against the underside of him.

San groaned, hand threading into your hair. “Fuck… just like that. Traitor’s mouth was made for this.”

Mingi crouched beside you, watching the way your cheeks hollowed as San thrust forward again, testing your limits.

“Sloppy little thing,” he muttered. “Drool’s already running down your chin.”

San chuckled, low and pleased. “You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned around his cock, eyes fluttering shut.

“Keep them open,” he ordered, jaw tight. “Wanna see that look when you choke on it.”

He shoved deeper this time—faster—fucking your face like you weren’t someone who’d just bargained your way into a war.

You gagged once. Then twice.

And San only groaned louder. “God, that sound... makes me wanna ruin you right here.”

Mingi’s hand gripped your jaw, turning your head slightly even as San’s cock stayed buried in your throat. “Bet your cunt’s soaking, huh? Squeezing nothing but air.”

You couldn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

Mingi’s fingers slid down your side, grazing over your ass as he murmured in your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll fix that real soon.”

San pulled out with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting his tip to your lips. You gasped, swallowing air.

But you weren’t given long.

Mingi had already unzipped, dragging the thick length of his cock along your cheek before slapping it against your tongue.

“Let’s see if you can take both of us, angel,” he growled.

Mingi didn’t ease in the way San had. No warning. No gentle stroke. Just a firm grip on the back of your head and the heavy weight of his cock forcing past your lips, thick and hot and demanding.

“Keep your mouth open, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice gravelly. “Gonna fuck it the way you begged us to.”

San stood behind you now, watching—palms dragging slowly down the curve of your back to the swell of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh like he owned it.

And he did.

They both did.

Your throat protested as Mingi thrust deeper, one hand now fisted in your hair, the other guiding your jaw to take more. Drool spilled freely, strings of it falling to the floor, smearing across your chest as you choked and moaned around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “This mouth’s unreal. Wet little hole just begging to be ruined.”

Behind you, San dropped to one knee, his breath hot against your thighs.

“You hear her?” he said, voice thick with lust. “So wet I can smell it.”

Two fingers slid between your legs without warning, dragging through the mess dripping down your inner thighs.

Then—smack.

His palm landed hard on your ass. Once. Then again.

You whimpered, full of Mingi, unable to do anything but take it.

San laughed darkly. “She liked that.”

“Of course she did,” Mingi groaned. “Slut like this was made for it.”

Another slap.

San’s fingers returned, this time slipping between your folds, gathering the slick coating your cunt before bringing it to your puckered hole. He pressed, slow, teasing.

“You ever had both holes filled, angel?” he asked, dragging his tongue across the back of your thigh.

You gagged around Mingi’s cock as your body jerked, overwhelmed.

Mingi pulled out just long enough for you to breathe—and that’s when San struck.

Two fingers plunged into your pussy, curling immediately.

“Say it,” he growled in your ear. “Say you want both of us.”

“I—ah—fuck, yes—please,” you gasped, lips swollen, spit and cum slick on your chin. “Want both—please, San—please, Mingi—want it so bad—”

Mingi chuckled, mean and low. “Look at you. Begging to be split open. Your family's little traitor, getting face-fucked and dripping all over the floor like a whore.”

He slapped your face lightly, just enough to make you blink and gasp.

“Dirty little thing,” he spat. Literally. Onto your tongue. “Swallow it.”

You did.

And when you looked up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching—Mingi’s grin widened.

San was already unbuckling again, stroking his cock slow as he stood behind you, tip brushing the soaked seam of your cunt.

“This is gonna hurt, angel,” he murmured into your shoulder, aligning with no hesitation. “But you’re gonna take it. Because you said you wanted to walk away clean, right?”

He pushed in.

One thick inch after another, until your thighs trembled and your moans turned into desperate little sobs.

“Fuuuck—tight little pussy gripping me like she’s scared,” San hissed.

Your face fell forward against Mingi’s thigh as you tried to breathe, but the stretch, the pressure, the fullness—San was deep. So deep.

Then Mingi tapped your lips again.

“You’re not done, sweetheart,” he said, cock sliding along your cheek. “You’ve still got a mouth to fill.”

And just like that—you were trapped again.

Face full. Pussy full.

Used like they’d been planning it from the moment you walked in with your offer and your little whiskey glass.

San fucked you hard, steady. Deep strokes that made your legs shake.

Mingi held your face still, grunting as he used your throat like a toy.

You took it.

Like the good little traitor you were.

“You’re shaking,” San muttered against your shoulder, breath hot and full of mock sympathy. “Is it too much, baby?”

He didn’t slow down.

Not when his cock was buried to the hilt inside you, forcing needy cries from your mouth every time his hips slammed forward. Not even when Mingi shoved you down farther on his length, grip bruising at the sides of your face as you sputtered around him.

It was too much.

Your body didn’t know what to do—split open, gagging, crying, coming again and again. You were locked between them, wrecked, used, and still begging for more with every broken gasp.

“She’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight,” San growled, digging his fingers into your hips to slam himself deeper. “Like her cunt doesn’t wanna let me go.”

Your vision blurred. Your knees nearly gave.

Mingi laughed, low and cruel. “She’s crying. Look.”

He tilted your chin up, angling your face toward the mirror on the wall.

And there she was.

You.

Mascara streaked. Mouth red and puffy. Drool and tears all over your face, tits bouncing from the force of San's thrusts behind you.

Mingi pushed back in, down your throat again without mercy.

“She looks pretty like this,” he said, voice a rasp. “Mouth wide. Eyes wet. Body full.”

You moaned helplessly. The pain had long since blended with pleasure. It was fire. Electricity. The kind of fucking you didn’t walk away from the same.

San’s hand came around your throat.

“You asked for this, didn’t you?” he murmured. “Came in with your smart little mouth and your cold eyes—thought you could play with fire. Thought you could handle us.”

He squeezed. Just a little. Enough to make your next moan catch in your throat.

“You can handle us though, can’t you?” Mingi muttered as he pulled out with a slick pop, stroking himself in your tears. “Gonna take both now, baby. We’re not done.”

You barely nodded. Couldn’t even speak. Your body already twitched with another orgasm you hadn’t even realized was coming.

Then you felt it—San's cock sliding out of your soaked cunt, slick and hot against your thigh… and then lower.

“No—no wait—” you gasped.

“Shhh, angel,” he whispered, lining up with your ass. “Just breathe.”

Mingi kissed your temple mockingly. “You wanted both holes, didn’t you? Said it so sweet with my cock down your throat. Time to make good on that little promise.”

The stretch was unreal. Burning.

Your whole body seized as San slowly, relentlessly pushed in—while Mingi slid back inside your raw, used pussy like he belonged there.

Full.

Overwhelmed. Impaled.

You moaned.

The mirror blurred again with fresh tears, your body convulsing with overstimulation and pain and white-hot need.

“Oh my god—fuckfuckfuck—”

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” Mingi groaned, bottoming out and grinding his hips forward. “So fucking deep.”

They moved in tandem now. A rhythm so punishing it left your thoughts in ruin.

Mingi fucking up into you while San split you open from behind.

“Can feel him,” Mingi growled, eyes dark and locked on your face. “Feel him inside through your pussy. You’re stuffed so full it’s crazy.”

You couldn’t hold it.

Your body locked up—spasmed—and then broke.

You came again, harder than ever, your whole form wracked with sobs as you squirted all over Mingi’s cock, soaking both of them, the floor, your thighs.

San groaned, filthy and breathless.

“Fuck— she just gushed all over me,” San groaned, hips stuttering. His voice was wrecked now, your walls clenched around them both. “She’s still fucking pulsing—god, I’m gonna—”

His voice broke off.

You felt it.

Hot. Sudden. Thick.

San’s hands dug into your hips as he buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside your ass with a ragged growl, body locked against yours, breath trembling as he painted your insides with thick heat.

“Fuck—fuck,” he breathed.

Mingi wasn’t far behind. He snarled something sharp in Korean you barely caught—tight little slut—before he was slamming in one last time, grinding his hips as his own release flooded you.

Two loads.

Deep inside.

One in your ass, one filling your pussy to the brim, so much it was already leaking out around their cocks, dripping down your thighs in messy streaks.

Your body gave out. Utterly limp. Muscles twitching in the aftermath.

They stayed there for a moment—San pressing his forehead to your back, Mingi brushing damp strands from your ruined face.

Then San pulled out with a low hiss.

“Goddamn,” he muttered.

Mingi followed, watching the mess leak from your pussy with a look of smug satisfaction.

“Full of us,” he murmured. “Just how we like it.”

You whimpered, still trembling as the overstimulation bled into exhaustion.

San stood and grabbed your chin, forcing your dazed gaze up toward him. “You still with us, sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly.

He chuckled. “Good. Because we’re not done talking.”

He helped you get up, not gently but not cruelly either. Mingi took the seat again, back to lazy posture and half-lidded eyes like he hadn’t just broken you open minutes ago.

San poured himself another drink. Lit a cigarette.

“Now,” he said, voice calm again, collected. “Jang’s main storage hub. You said you know the new route?”

You swallowed thickly, still panting. “Warehouse 39… by the docks. They rotate every five days. Next shift is tomorrow morning. 4 a.m.”

San nodded slowly. Mingi’s eyes sharpened.

“Names?” Mingi asked.

You gave them—three enforcers, one truck driver, a corrupt customs agent.

San blew out smoke toward the ceiling. “How’d you get this?”

“My brother’s burner phone,” you said, voice raw and barely audible. “He left it unlocked. Got sloppy.”

“And you just happened to be looking?”

“I was looking for anything that would keep me alive.”

Mingi smirked. “Smart girl.”

“Dangerous girl,” San corrected, eyes lingering on your wrecked body. “Traitor. Liar. But fuckable.”

You didn’t flinch.

“Still breathing, aren’t I?”

He laughed low. “Yeah. You are.”

Mingi stood and cracked his neck, eyes flicking toward San. “We move before sunrise. Hit the route before Jang even smells a rat.”

San looked back at you. “You’ll be in our custody ‘til it’s over. Insurance. Can’t have you slipping back to your side with a sweet little smile.”

You didn’t argue.

You couldn’t.

Not with your thighs still slick from cum and your body barely holding together.

You just stood there, eyes half-lidded. Waiting. Wanting.

They would use you again. Soon. You knew it.

But for now… business came first.

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere

[aroace-not-arokay]

You have been anonymously booped. Will you continue by tagging ur moots and making this a new moot game??

Oh i also have some questions fr u, and also fr the moots if u turn this into a game[:

Currently fav song/movie

What ur fav subject in school was/is

If u could have any type of animal as a pet, what would u have??

What style u think u are

What style u think prev is(like the person u rebooted this from)

Who u think I am👹👹

Fav game (whether video game, board game, or card game

Anything else u want to add[:

oh noes here we go, hi El

Currently fav song/movie

hmmmm my fav song changes by the day I hope you understand this, right now it's "God" by Jack Daniels but I haven't listened to any other songs by him and I don't know anything about him and I just found this song today so like...

What ur fav subject in school was/is

Sciences of any kind

If u could have any type of animal as a pet, what would u have??

Either a crow that's trained or a black cat (y'all I'm not emo I just vibe with these :< )

What style u think u are

Style??? seems kinda vague

I'm gonna do 1) what I think you meant, aka clothing / vibes

and 2) what I wish you meant but I know you didn't, armed fighting style (not high tech, nobody say something like musket)

Don't really have a style, comfy, dark, clothing + silver trinkets

I'll tell y'all my weapons style eventually but first I wanna see what you guys think because I'm really invested in this

What style u think prev is(like the person u rebooted this from)

I feel like you wear lots of comfy pastels and faded, but still alive colors. Like the colors that used to be neon and violent and eventually faded into the whites until they're calm and pretty

you feel like you wouldn't be afraid to fight up close and personal but you'd also be smart about it. Halberd or longsword

Who u think I am👹👹

You're @sleepdeprivedkotlcfan no?

Fav game (whether video game, board game, or card game)

idk... honestly not sure? Couldn't tell ya

Anything else u want to add

I'll ask all my moots... favorite book genre?

Mine is high fiction of most kinds :>

MOOT WALL

@skyrigel @14-opossums-in-a-trenchcoat @thatoneartist-inthecorner @wood-leaf-tee-hee @tripleatechie @frooglet @catdownthestreet @nazuk-kali @conditioningint3stin3s @falling-raine @falling-in-deep @sleepdeprivedkotlcfan @coffeeadaykeepsthesleepaway @inherently-weird @friendly-neighborhood-goober @you-need-not-apply @nightmarebyanothername @thearoacescout @napkineater @yawnwhatyadoing @onesingularbraincell @lavrenea @lovelikeadaisy @zmioniks and @ anyone I forgot I'm so sorry I have a terrible memory

Template:

Currently fav song/movie

What ur fav subject in school was/is

If u could have any type of animal as a pet, what would u have??

What style u think u are

What style u think prev is(like the person u rebooted this from)

Fav game (whether video game, board game, or card game

Favorite book genre

Anything else u want to add

[thewinter-eden]

Blood Sugar Virus (final)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT (FINAL)

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense, slow burn Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, Happy Lemon Drop Day 😁 We’ve reached the final chapter which kind of breaks my heart way more than I thought it would. It IS an 11k word chapter though, so I hope that soothes the sting (it didn’t for me but hey). I genuinely loved writing this story and I cannot believe that my hyperfixation on it carried me all the way through. I hope you guys enjoy ❤️

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @mrsminseochoi

< last chapter | masterlist

You and Jimin are still as the guys around you jump to their feet and get ready to head out again. Neither of you can move well enough on your own, left to wait for someone to help you. It feels unbelievably infantile, being unable to carry your own weight and having to expect someone else to carry it for you, but either you let them take care of you or you get left behind—and none of them seem willing to leave you in the dirt.

Hongjoong rounds them up into a huddle, reorganizing Ateez to proceed from here.

“Did something happen?” Jimin whispers to you, his eyes wide. “Did he hurt you? I swear to god, I told him I’d kill him—these fucking assholes, it’s like every time I turn around—”

“Don’t talk about them like that.” You deliver a sharp elbow to his ribs. “They’ve kept you alive all night, and they’re good people. Incredibly good people. You gotta stop flying off the handle at them, Chim.”

“You were deliriously happy—literally—ten minutes ago and now you’re over here looking like you did when we got back from the GOT7 program.” Jimin squeezes your shoulder tightly, like he’s trying to punctuate the memory he’s recalling with reassurance that he doesn’t mean to hurt you with it. “If he hurt you, I want to know.”

The group is moving, getting Mingi up, heading for the two of you.

The only thing that hurts is the weight of the wall you’ve just slammed down around your heart. “He didn’t hurt me. I swear. He’s been killing himself to get me this far. Don’t worry, Chim, it’s all good.”

“Yeosang, you’ve got Sugar?” Hongjoong asks, pausing in conferring with Taegyeom when he notices that you’re still sitting on the ground.

“Yeah, I’ve got her.” Yeosang says from somewhere in the middle of the huddle of guys, and you see him shoulder through them to approach you.

The stabbing in your heart conflicts with the betrayal of butterflies in your stomach. “No, Yeosang needs a break.” You argue out loud. “He needs to rest for a bit.”

He’s still coming towards you, ignoring your protest, when Wooyoung appears beside him. “I want her.” He pushes past Yeosang. “That good with you, Noona?”

You’re nothing short of eager to have an option other than the man you want to be able to let go of. Instead of trusting your voice to convey your agreement, you lift your arms like a child begging to be picked up.

When Yeosang utters your name, displeased, you almost break. “I’m fine, I can get you.”

“You’re hurt.” You mutter, as though he needs a reminder. “I’ll go with Woo.”

The younger man crouches down to your level, wrapping his arms around you to bring you up to your feet. Blood washes from your head to your toes in a rush, and you sway dizzily in his hold. He keeps you steady, helping you step away from Jimin so that San can move in and pick up your best friend.

“How do you want to do this?” Wooyoung asks you. “If I carry you on my back, can you hold on? Or will that hurt your hip?”

You don’t want to think about the position that will put you in, having to open your hips to wrap your legs around him, but you can’t ignore the fact that it will be less strain on him than carrying you bridal style in his arms.

He could toss you over his shoulder like Hajoon did to Jimin, but you predict that if the blood rushes back into your head like that, you’re likely to throw up all over him.

“I can get on your back.” You say. “That should work.”

When he turns and crouches low for you to drape yourself over him, you see Yeosang. Standing nearby, watching, uncertain.

It should be no surprise to him that you would insist on giving him a rest from taking care of you, but you’re also fairly sure that you weren’t the most subtle about freaking out and bolting away from him.

His expression has blanked out, but you’ve seen him shuffle through enough emotions over the course of the night that you can recognize the underlying worry.

You went from relatively okay, to losing your mind, to fleeing from him like a stranger in a short span of time, and he’s worried.

That’s not your problem.

He is Kang Yeosang of Ateez, not your boyfriend.

Not a member of your team.

Not someone who’s emotions are your responsibility.

You climb onto Wooyoung’s back. It’s more comfortable than you had thought it would be, your arms fitting securely over his shoulders and his hands cupping you firmly at your thighs. Your hip isn’t too strained by the position, more at ease without your weight on it.

“You good?” He asks you.

“Yep.” You lay your chin over his shoulder. “You can readjust if you need to. I’m good.”

He bounces you once, lightly, getting a better grip on you, and then turns to Yeosang. “We’re good, hyung. Ready to go.”

The older man trades his gaze between you and Wooyoung, not responding.

“Yeosang, you’re up front with me. Seonghwa, take the rear.” Hongjoong says.

“Get me if you need to swap.” Yeosang tells Wooyoung, and then offers you a small smile. It’s such a fond, open expression that you feel your heart clench, unable to stop yourself from returning it. Then he turns and picks his way to the front with the captain, leaving you with Wooyoung, San, and Jimin in the middle of the pack.

Seonghwa slips past you to take up the rear, and then the company is moving.

Morning light is spreading through the trees, making it easy to find their footing without tripping over branches and roots or running through short bushes and brambles.

You’re warm and comfortable against Wooyoung, lulled almost into a drowsy state by the soft rhythm of his gait.

Next to you, San carries Jimin across his chest. The raw deterioration of your friend’s entire leg makes it painfully impossible to carry him in the same piggy back configuration, since gripping any portion of the damaged muscle would instantly aggravate it. However, if any of your group are capable of holding a person’s entire weight in his arms for an extended period of time, the statuesque structure of San makes him the perfect candidate.

“Now that I’ve got you where you can’t run away,” Wooyoung starts softly, keeping his voice low. “What just happened between you and Yeosang?”

Of course he has to get to the bottom of it. Of course you can’t be left alone to bemoan your tendency to self-sabotage. You play dumb. “What do you mean?”

You can practically feel him rolling his eyes. “All that ‘he’s not my boyfriend’ bullshit. He said something dumb again, didn’t he? We’ve told you, the man is socially stunted. You’re gonna have to learn to read between the lines with him.”

“As adorable as it is that you are faithfully committed to being his matchmaker, I think you should hold out for another opportunity,” you tease, giving his shoulder a playful pinch. You have to treat it like a joke. You have to laugh it off, or you’ll sink into heartbreak that you have no business feeling.

“She’s emotionally stunted.” Jimin supplies quietly. “They’re perfect for each other.”

That’s not helping. “Jimin, shut up.”

“Do you not like him?” Wooyoung asks. “It’s totally fair if you’ve decided that you’re not really into him—though that would make you certifiably insane—but it really seemed like it was mutual.”

You debate your answer. Maybe it would be easier to just say that he’s right, that you felt a disconnection somewhere and didn’t end up feeling quite as strongly for him as thought you did.

It’s too big a lie. Even with all your training and experience in acting, you don’t think you can be believed.

There’s nothing about Yeosang that doesn’t draw you closer to him and make you feel safe.

There’s nothing about your decision to take a step back that doesn’t feel like you’re losing something you can never get back.

“I don’t think we should be talking about this right now.” You say instead. “We should stay quiet.”

“You’re avoiding.” Jimin says flatly. “I’ve never seen you like you are with him. I think you’re overthinking. I know I’ve been kind of caustic tonight, but I think you’d be foolish to walk away from this.”

You can barely think past your numbing headache. You’re nowhere near present enough to stand at odds with Jimin. If you have this conversation now, you’ll admit to Too much. “Nothing happened. Everything’s fine.”

“So you do like him.” Wooyoung states evenly. “You don’t think he likes you?”

Frustration tightens your jaw. You have to stop yourself from snapping at him to shut him up.

He’s being kind.

He’s trying to help you.

He wants Yeosang happy, and for some reason, he thinks you’re the ticket.

Maybe explaining the truth of the situation will show them you’ve made the right decision. They can’t argue the facts. “I think we both got swept up. I think this can’t survive real life.”

Jimin utters a disbelieving laugh. “You think you’ll face something more difficult than this? If you can work through the zombie apocalypse and come out of it madly in love with each other, I’m pretty sure you can handle taxes and family planning.”

“I don’t think real life is going to be harder than this, I think it’s going to be more boring. It’s easy to feel strong emotions when everything’s on fire, but when it’s mundane? Normal? Boring? What then?”

You can’t keep him entertained all the time. You can’t keep up the thrill of living like you’ve experienced together tonight.

But Wooyoung just laughs softly. It’s not mocking, or belittling—it’s relieved. “Oh, sweet Sugar. Your man lives for the mundane. We get all the excitement we can take in our concerts and promotions. When we get time at home, he’s the epitome of normal. He goes to the gym. He eats good food. He takes his vitamins and supplements. He plays video games. We have to convince him to go out with us. If you think domestic life with him is gonna be anything other than quietly mundane, you’ve been misinformed.”

Jimin breathes deeply, like Wooyoung has just taken a huge weight off his shoulders. “God, see? It’s like you’re already primed to coexist. You both go to work, you come home ready to take a load off—and at least this guy will make sure you eat and sleep properly.”

It is a comfort. To know that you wouldn’t have been expected to spend your off days or weekends chasing every social engagement under the sun. But the fundamental problem still remains—he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know who he thinks he likes.

And you’re already in deep, completely entranced by him. Even if you went on a number of dates to get to know each other, him deciding to either ghost you or inform you that he doesn’t think you want the same things would crush you.

You’re woefully poorly adjusted to the uncertainty of dating, the eggshells you walk to be on your best behavior and hope you won’t make an insurmountable mistake—your anxious heart wants unwavering commitment, not existential doubt.

It’s not Yeosang you’re rejecting, it’s the concept of dating.

You want your life to be full of certainties—lunch with your mom every so often, work every day, your cat every time you come home, peace inside the walls of your own home.

You’re a coward.

“He won’t want me when this is over.” You’ve said it. It’s out there. Your head is spinning and your limbs are on fire, but your heart is hanging out in the open.

“You won’t even give him the chance to find that out for himself?” Wooyoung argues. “He’s openly fixated on you, and you seem to like him just as much. That’s not fair.”

It may not be fair.

But you’re a coward.

“I don’t want to go through that again.” You whisper.

“So you’re never going to try?” Jimin questions. “You’re going to turn down every guy you like, just in case it one day stops working out?”

“I’m good alone. I’m safe alone.”

“Yeah, but you’re lonely.”

At Jimin’s deadpan response, your brain stutters. “I’m not lonely.”

“You are.” He says softly. “I can see it. We could all see it. You think we don’t know why you work yourself to the bone? Why you don’t give yourself any time to be alone? We could all see it.”

Silence resounds between you. The gentle crunch of leaves under their feet is the only sound besides the quiet murmuring of the guys ahead of you.

You are lonely.

Your routines keep you busy, and your work keeps you fulfilled in a professional capacity, and your friends and family filled almost every corner of your heart. But you can’t deny that the safety of your private apartment sometimes feels like emptiness. And the peace of your quiet life at home sometimes feels like abandonment.

But what’s left for you now?

Even if everything can go back to normal—you don’t have your job. You don’t have your family. You would be walking into your empty apartment with nothing but your cat and the memories of this horrible night and all it took from you.

Everything is uncertain now.

Everything you had to hold onto and protect yourself with is gone.

You’ll be starting from nothing.

“I’m not enough for him.” The broken whisper bares itself without your permission.

“I think you’re wrong.” Wooyoung says, just as softly.

You can’t believe him. You’ll be too driven by your pursuit of the career that you lost, too broken by the deaths of your friends, too guarded emotionally, not useful enough, not nurturing enough, not happy enough.

“The first time he met you, in our second program prep session in that coffee shop, he was inside his head all day.” Seonghwa’s voice floats into the conversation from behind you. “That night, we couldn’t find him for dinner—Yunho discovered him holed up in his bedroom, reading your orientation packet like he was studying for a test.”

Your heart flutters all over again, and it’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever felt. It shouldn’t matter so much to you that he cared so much about your program, but your body is filling with pride and excitement.

“The next day he was in the gym so early—like, the moment it opened.” San says. “We didn’t have a schedule, so we couldn’t figure out why he was up so early. But then on the way to our next meeting with you, he was reciting facts about the program. Like he’d memorized it overnight. He told us to behave, and to listen to you and Rosé, as though we were a bunch of little kids on a field trip.”

“It was weird,” Wooyoung agrees. “We were all kinda confused. He was all like, ‘she worked really hard on this, we should be respectful.’ And we were like, ‘well yeah, we all want to do this, stop being weird about it.’”

“We figured it out pretty quickly after that.” San says. “He was trying to be cool. But he kept asking things like what your drink order had been, if you had said anything about a dress code, if we thought he had said something dumb or embarrassing. Wooyoung cornered him by the third day, because we were all catching on. What did he say to you, Woo?”

“I mean, he was in denial for a bit, but I got it out of him.” Wooyoung says proudly. “He liked you. He asked me if I thought it would be inappropriate to ask you for your personal number. He called you pretty—which, duh—he said you seemed really nice and really smart, and he thought your stories were so cool and creative—like, completely raving about you. I was trying to poke at him, to see how deep he was; I said that I was gonna ask you out, and that I thought we had a connection.”

You give him a small laugh, shaking your head fondly against his shoulder. “We had such a great connection.”

“Oh, such a great connection,” Wooyoung teases back cheerfully. “But I had to let him have a chance, you know?”

“Oh sure, sure.”

“Anyway, he was…” he pauses, struggling to find the words. “He kinda looked like I’d sucker punched him, a little. I had to tell him I was kidding, because he would have backed off for me—that’s just who he is—but the guy was so disappointed.”

“Once we knew, he didn’t really try to hide it anymore.” Seonghwa says. “We’d come home from your prep sessions and he’d be all giggly and flustered, talking about all the times you’d spoken to him. You’d think he was in high school or something. He was dressing up for you, asking us to help him come up with things to say to you, getting all sensitive when we joked about how nice and pretty you are.”

Your heart is racing. “He was?”

“He was giddy.” San says flatly. “We were taking bets on how quickly he would embarrass himself in front of you. We told him to get through the program and fulfill our contract before trying to change the dynamic, and he said he already planned to do that, but he was thinking about places to take you. Should he take you to a movie? To dinner? Out for drinks? Get a reservation at an impossible-to-reserve restaurant?”

Seonghwa breaks in again. “I told him he should find the nicest place in town and impress you, but he said he thought you might feel like he was trying to throw status at you. He said he wanted it to be comfortable, not competitive, whatever that means. Anyway, he decided he wanted to find a place where you could just sit and talk and just spend time together—and he found this beautiful coffee shop—”

You feel horrible.

Monstrous.

Cruel.

What is wrong with you?

He’d put thought into making you comfortable and you had laughed at him.

Forget being too boring, you’ve insulted his consideration of you.

You’d been propositioned by wealthy clients who thought they could impress you with the nicest restaurant in town. If he had expected you to show up, dressed to the nines and sitting stiffly as a team of waiters buzzed around you like you were a couple of VIPs, you would have gone home and turned the page on him.

You’re a horrible person.

“Why did he like me so much?” You ask timidly. “Was it the way I had to wrangle you guys like cats? Because I was pretty impressed with myself.” You’re praying it’s not that. You’re praying he didn’t notice you for the way you were organizing events and talking to staff to make sure all of the messy details got cleaned up and patiently enduring all of the various speed-bumps that you ended up running into—like when the trampoline place lost your appointment, or when the company didn’t have enough seats on the bus.

“Girl, he was on our asses for being out of control. He was lecturing us left and right for our craziness, telling us you shouldn’t have to be parenting us like wild children.” Wooyoung snorts. “Which is absurd, because we were perfect gentlemen.”

You don’t comment.

“He said he could tell you love your work. That you get all bubbly and excited when you talk about your stories. That you’re cute when you sing karaoke. That your dry sense of humor was the funniest thing—and yeah, Sugar, you’re funny, but you’re not that funny. Anyway, the point is, Yeosang thought you were interesting and kind and beautiful from the moment he met you. He didn’t develop an adrenalized crush on you tonight. Do you remember when Jongho threw you at that fake zombie? And Yeosang caught your hand and rescued you?” Seonghwa asks.

You do remember.

It’s one of the funniest things that’s ever happened to you in a program. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know if you saw it, but he was bright red. Like…as soon as he realized he was holding your hand he looked at me and he was blushing so hard. It was adorable. You were acting like a scared high school student and he was all flustered about holding your hand.”

He’d told you he wanted to ask you out. He’d told you he was interested in you before today—or yesterday.

But hearing this, hearing that all of the thoughtless and mundane things about you had been what had caught his eye in the first place, it has your entire body thrumming.

You’d been doing your job, enjoying casual hangouts with clients, and he’d liked you for you. Not for the psycho who runs into danger, or the nurturer who protected his brothers, or the provider who gave up too much of herself.

Even now as you think back, he’d been working with you, trying to restrain your urges, staying loyally next to you in the terrifying moments of danger, but it was the quiet moments that he drew closer to you.

When Jin bit you, when you distracted the hoard for Hongjoong, the zombie pile, the fight for Jimin, the zombies with Wooyoung and Hongjoong, the swarms of wasps—he’d been focused, concentrated, working.

But when he patched you up, when the lockdown happened, all the quiet moments in the office, after the plan to axe the barricade didn’t work out, when he rescued you from the classroom full of zombies, when you’d been scheming about the fire—those were the moments that he pulled you closer.

When the danger had passed, when a bit of normal returned, when you could sit and be yourself, that’s when he reached for you.

Maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe you can risk it.

Maybe you can last.

“He really cared that much?”

It’s Jimin who answers. “Babe, it sounds like this guy likes you in spite of tonight. Not because of it.”

“I laughed at him for his couples therapy comment,” Wooyoung remarks lightly. “But he was kinda right. He would have asked you out anyway, but now you guys know who you are under pressure. Most couples don’t get that before the first date.”

YEOSANG

“Is she okay?” Hongjoong bends low to crawl under a branch and peeks up at Yeosang. “She wasn’t looking good there for a minute.”

The younger man pushes the branch back and pauses to hold it for Yunho and Mingi to duck under. Jongho takes it from him and waits to hold it for Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and the two they carry with him.

“I don’t know,” he admits carefully, finding his place next to Hongjoong again. “She was going pretty strong until a little bit ago. I’m a little worried about the way she started losing clarity. Do you think that’s a sign of a bigger problem?”

Hongjoong shrugs cluelessly. “I’m not a medical professional. But I wouldn’t think she needs a bigger problem. She’s got like five bites, all of them muscle deep. That, paired with her being responsible for us while watching all of her friends die doesn’t make a very hospitable environment for a speedy recovery.”

That’s about what Yeosang had assumed on his own. “She’ll be fine. Just as long as we can get out of here and get some help.”

“What did you say to her?” Yunho whispers, urging Mingi a little faster. They crowd in behind Hongjoong and Yeosang, glancing cautiously at the soldiers who travel on the perimeter of the group.

“When?” Yeosang glances back to find both of the taller men peering at him with unbridled concern. His brow furrows, baffled. “What? What’s wrong?”

Mingi raises an eyebrow at him, adjusting his hold on Yunho’s shoulder. “Whatever you said that made her run to Jimin. You’d think you’d have gotten that foot out of your mouth by now.”

Yeosang’s face scrunches with offended confusion. “What? She wanted to check on him.”

“I can’t believe, after all this buildup, you’re fumbling this girl.” Yunho mutters. “She’s like actually your other half, and you can’t stop yourself from screwing it up.”

“Woah, hey, I didn’t say anything. She went to check on Jimin. Then she wanted me to take a break. I didn’t fumble anything.” Yeosang glares back at them, not at all enjoying the miffed expressions on their faces. “Mind your own business. Focus on walking.”

“Then why did she tell Jimin you’re not her boyfriend?”

At Yunho’s hissed words, Yeosang’s pace slows. His spine twists, looking back at Sugar as she clings to Wooyoung’s back. Her eyes meet his, and slide away.

His heart feels like a rock in his chest. “Because we haven’t actually had time to label anything while we’ve been running for our lives.” But his mind is sorting through the events of the past through minutes.

She’d started losing awareness, calling out for Namjoon. Then she’d seemed to come back to herself a little bit, only to continue to slip between reality and memories like she couldn’t distinguish between the two. She’d been fine, safe, holding him like he held her, until the moment she decided to move over to Jimin and tell him she didn’t want him to be the one to carry her.

He shakes his head. “She should be unconscious by now, with all the shit wearing on her. She needs her wounds treated and she needs to sleep.”

Yunho shrugs. “I don’t know, she seemed bothered by something. I think she was crying.”

“She’s in a shit load of pain, leave her alone.” Hongjoong mutters. But then he glances at Yeosang. “Back in the school, when she came to help me and Hwa, it seemed like she was thinking you wouldn’t stick around after all this. If I were you, I’d think very carefully about this crush you’ve got on her and figure out if you want to be serious about it or not. She just lost almost everyone she loves. She doesn’t need to be played with right now. Either commit to this or cut her loose. It’s not a game, Yeo. If you’re serious about her, just be there. Otherwise, let her go. All of us survived this, we can work through the aftermath together. All she has is Jimin.” He pats the younger man’s arm once and returns his focus to the path ahead.

The reflex to defend himself, to argue that he’s not playing with anybody’s emotions, dies abruptly by the time Hongjoong is finished. Unable to ignore the weight of that truth, that her circumstances are more serious than his desire to chase these invigorating feelings that he has, Yeosang follows along in pensive silence.

Everything his captain said was true.

She’d lost nearly everyone. She’s escaping with her life, and very little else.

His job may not look the same after tonight, but at least he and the rest of Ateez can figure out a way to reform as a group and continue to put out music wherever they land.

Her entire production team and management team, and stylists and coordinators and actors, all died tonight. She doesn’t have a team to go home with. She doesn’t have a job to go back to.

She and Jimin will have to face tomorrow by making ends meet and trying to start over from the bottom.

A flood of questions swarm his mind.

Not regarding his feelings for her—if he’s certain of anything, it’s that everything he’s been through with her has only confirmed what he thought from the beginning: she’s strong, smart, loyal to herself; she’s someone he can understand, relate to, connect with; even under the stress and pressure and fear, she continued to be the person he wanted to be next to, trusting her as she lead them through.

He believes he’d seen her moments of weakness and rashness for what they were—not the hopeless actions of a women who doesn’t want to be saved, but the scared resignation of someone who doesn’t know she should be. She proved that much when she saved herself.

Her selfless habits of loading herself down with responsibility, taking burdens from others to bear them herself, her belief that her purpose is to serve and not to live, all struck him as the behavior of someone who hadn’t been allowed to be human; to make mistakes; to need to be cared for in turn.

His only questions now are regarding what she needs to be able to continue to be the best version of herself.

Would his presence in her life hold her back?

Would he just be a distraction, inhibiting her from finding what she wants the most?

Would he just be a reminder of everything she lost?

Is he the best person to be by her side for whatever comes next?

Jimin knows her. He looks out for her. He knows what she needs and what he denies herself. She trusts him, and they don’t stop each other from reaching their dreams.

Would he just be getting in the way of the life she wants to build?

His mind goes back to the lockdown, when she’d told him that all she wanted was the chance to rest and enjoy life without the pressure of work and responsibilities. He’d known in that moment that if he could give her nothing else, he could make sure that she could have days like that.

Not just one, but so many that she forgets what it’s like to dream about it, like it’s something out of her reach.

He wants her to be able to take rest and relaxation for granted, to learn to be lazy sometimes and forgive herself for it.

He hasn’t known her for any longer than a week, but god, he wants to.

He wants to see her create a life for herself that she’s proud of, like she had when he met her. He wants to watch her create stories that make her giddy with confidence and excitement, to watch her become everything she can be, because he’s never seen anyone so perfectly made for a vocation like she is with her programs.

He wants to be there when everything feels like it’s falling apart, when she feels like giving up, when she has moments where she loses faith in herself—because he’s seen what she can do and what she can create, and he knows that she’s capable of so much more than she thinks she is.

He started this week with an inexplicable crush on a pretty girl, but now he feels like he’s found a partner. She’d responded to his affection in a way he never dreamed was possible, but she’d also trusted him implicitly. She hadn’t spent the night pushing him to the side so she could face the situation with the people she knew and felt comfortable with, she’d fallen into a rhythm of partnership. She’d trusted herself with him, and he’d trusted himself with her.

That wasn’t the thrill of infatuation.

That was compatibility. Communication. Faith.

He can’t dismiss that.

He can’t walk away from tonight without her, not after he’d discovered a sense of self next to her. Not after she took his breath away at every turn.

She’s scared.

She’s hurt.

She can conquer this, and the world, on her own two feet.

But he has no intention of letting her do it without him.

Not when he doesn’t want to do it without her.

SUGAR

“We’re gonna stop here.” Taegyeom brings you to a stop in a stretch of woods that faces the gas station. The lights are on at the pumps, but the store is dark. It’s not open yet in these wee hours of morning, and won’t be for a few more at least.

He directs your little group of survivors into a tight cluster of trees and tells you to find places to sit down again where you can lay low for the next few hours. Once satisfied that his charges are following his instructions without question, he turns to the soldiers and positions them at the best vantage points to keep watch.

Wooyoung crouches low to the ground to allow you to get off his back, moving his hands from beneath your thighs to your arms so he can anchor you when you land. Despite trying to be careful, your feet hit the ground with an impact that sends shocks of tingling pain from your heels to your hips.

Staggering dizzily, you let yourself lean against him and use his grip on your hands to ground yourself until the uncomfortable nerve sensation passes. “Ugh, I think I’m gonna puke.” You groan, tucking your chin to your chest as nausea swirls in your gut and heats your cheeks.

“Alright, alright, hold on, don’t puke on me.” Wooyoung says quickly, kindly, turning himself so he can catch you against his chest and spin you to face the bushes. “I’ve got you. If you’re gonna be sick, aim it over there. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

San slips by you, easing Jimin down against a tree and helping him arrange his legs. “You should try to sleep, hyung,” he says. “We’ve got a few hours to wait.”

“He’s right.” Seonghwa agrees, sitting in the middle of your friends and crossing his legs beneath him. “You both should try to rest. We’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

Hongjoong sits at the front, leaning against his own tree with a long groan. “God, what I wouldn’t give for my bed right now.”

“Anybody else starving?” Yunho drops like a rock to the ground next to Mingi. “I feel like I could eat a whole cow.”

“I want pasta.” Mingi mutters. “I’m dying for pasta.”

“You always want pasta.” Jongho grumbles. “I’m with Yunho.”

As the debate continues, you focus on trying to settle the violent upheaval pulsing between your slamming headache and your tight stomach. After a few seconds that crawl like a lifetime, your taut muscles start to relax. The fire fades from your face, your organs stop heaving. “I’m good.” You whisper when you can trust yourself to breathe again. Your body is calming. “I’m good now, Woo.”

“You sure?” He pulls your hair away from your shoulders and arranges it against your back. His face appears near yours, brow furrowing as he takes in the color of your cheeks. “Don’t force yourself, it’s okay.”

You shake your head, no longer buzzing beneath your skin like you’re one wrong move away from losing whatever’s left in your stomach. You can’t imagine there’s anything left in your system anyway. “No, I feel better. I just needed a minute to orient myself. You can put me down.”

Footsteps crunch through the leaves behind you, and Wooyoung’s hands still against your back.

He’s not helping you find a place to sit down, so you reach out your hands to catch yourself against the nearest tree, rewarded by the harsh bite of bark against your palms.

“Wooyoung.” Yeosang.

His soft voice comes from right behind you, sending a shiver down your spine. Even the low timbre of his tone sends your heart racing, even though anxious apprehension still crashes into your thoughts.

How did you go from cool and steady to craving his presence next to you with the desperation of addiction?

It’s not even just attraction swirling through your blood, coloring the way you see the world, but a sense of security that you didn’t realize you were missing until he’s beside you again.

Everything you had done tonight, with the exception of the turbulent early moments where they weren’t sure if they could trust you, you had done by his side.

You hadn’t realized how much courage you had drawn from having him with you.

“Give her a minute, hyung. She’s okay for now, I’ll sit with her.” Wooyoung keeps his hands on you, supporting your weight so you can turn yourself and slide down the trunk of the tree to land on your butt in the dirt.

Now that you’re facing them, you find Yeosang’s eyes on you. He stands next to Wooyoung, posture strong and sure, gaze hard as stone. He doesn’t even look at his younger brother. “Go sit with San, Wooyoung.” He’s not asking.

You can’t break eye contact. It occurs to you that you might have pushed him far enough away that whatever he’s now come to say to you is exactly what you’ve been afraid of. The look in his eyes terrifies you.

Wooyoung glances at you, worried. “I don’t know if she wants you to—”

Yeosang fixes him with a blank stare. “She speaks for herself. Go on, Woo.”

Your vision is weak as your eyes flash between them, catching the hesitation on Wooyoung’s face and the determination on Yeosang’s.

You owe him a conversation. Whatever it leads to.

A few minutes ago, you would have let Wooyoung run interference for you. You would have done everything you could to drive a wedge of professionalism between yourself and Yeosang to protect yourself, but your curiosity is defeating your fear.

You want to see how Yeosang treats you with freedom so near. You want to see how he’s going to react to how you pushed him away, how Wooyoung is trying to keep you from him. You want to see if you can find the steadiness of the man who stayed by your side all night, or if you’re going to get the sense that he doesn’t know what he wants. Or, worse, if he knows what he wants, and it isn’t you.

“It’s okay,” you tell your self-appointed protector. “Really, Woo.”

Wooyoung glances down at you, trying to read your face, searching for any sign that you’re just trying to keep the peace rather than actually feeling comfortable about being left with the man who has the power to break your heart.

When he sees only open, weary vulnerability, all pretenses at strength and courage long since disappeared, he kneels down next to you. “If you want to be left alone about all of this until after you’ve gotten a chance to rest and recover a little bit, just give me a signal. I’ll fight him off for you, okay?” He flashes you a cocky grin and smacks a kiss right to the apple of your cheek. “I’ve got your back, Noona.”

Laughing at his brazen closeness that is clearly meant to poke at Yeosang, you land a weak slap to his shoulder. “Get out of here, punk, you’re breathing on my face.”

He winks at you and scoots back, rising to face Yeosang again. “Don’t make me come back here and separate you two.”

Yeosang doesn’t seem to be in a playful mood. “You have five seconds.”

Wooyoung throws his hands up innocently and shuffles away to find San, stretching the stiffness out of his back as he goes.

You forgot to thank him for carrying you like a child this whole way, but it’s probably too dangerous to call him back now, especially since Yeosang looks like he’s actually five seconds away from putting him on his face.

When he turns back to you, the tension melts out of his expression.

It gives you whiplash, mind scrambling to make sense of the shift.

You’d braced yourself for confrontation, but now he’s looking at you with so much softness that you’re stuck between letting your guard down and keeping yourself firmly bolstered to face rejection or anger—or both.

Stepping towards you with careful movements, he takes a second to glance over your body, checking your hip, your arm, your neck. All of your bites are bandaged, but you’re sure they’ve all bled through.

You must look horrible. Hair matted and knotted, clothes torn and soaked with blood, face covered in scratches and probably sweat and grime—you suddenly wish it was dark again so he can’t see you so well.

Yeosang lowers himself to his knees in front of you. “Can I stay?” He asks softly. He’s watching you, eyes wide and focused, waiting for you to tell him to leave.

He knows you pushed him away. He knows you chose Wooyoung for more reasons than just to give him a rest. You can see it in his face. Either he’d heard some of what you’d said, or someone else had and told him about it.

Instead of wanting to keep him at arm’s length or further, you just feel horrible. You’d panicked about the possibility of him turning on you, but you had been the inconsistent one. You had been the one who was unfair to him.

Your brain is still screaming at you, begging you not to let yourself be dragged in and hurt again, but for once, you’re not listening. “Please stay.” You whisper.

What are you doing?

Going against everything you’d disciplined yourself to do just because you learned that he’d had a crush on you a week ago?

Letting him in because after tonight, you don’t think you’ll ever meet anyone who makes you feel the way he does?

Yeah, apparently.

Yeosang turns himself to sit beside you, leaning his back against the tree with a heavy sigh. He scoops one of your hands off your lap and holds it tightly in his, resting it against his thigh as he stretches out his legs to lay alongside yours.

The confrontation doesn’t come.

Everything about the moment is so grounding, his shoulder pressed against yours, your palms warm and fingers intertwined, that all you want to do is put your head on his shoulder and give into the sleepiness tugging at the loose threads of your consciousness.

He’s just sitting there, breathing next to you. So why does it feel like you’ve finally found the safety you’ve been craving all night?

Yeosang tilts his head back against the tree, blinking up at the last of the stars that are still visible in the faint glow of morning. “I’m gonna stay with you,” he says simply. “For whatever happens next.”

It takes you a second to figure out why those words, in that voice, have touched your ears before, rooting themselves into your head with resolute finality. The memory comes back with a rush of heat. It’s what he said to you right before he kissed you for the first time, so many hours ago in that hallway.

I’m staying with you.

You don’t have to care about me, but I care about you too much to pretend that I don’t.

Your hand twitches in his, fear and uncertainty rearing their ugly heads when your heart flutters in response to his words. “How do you know?” Your voice is timid, broken by embarrassment, hoping that there’s anything he can say that will calm the trepidation in your soul.

He doesn’t even look at you. “Do you want to stay with me?” Easy. Firm. Level. Like he already knows your answer. Like your terminal inability to hold your tongue around him has given him all the confidence he needs to confront your fears and quiet them.

To you, his question isn’t even a question.

It requires no thought.

He is solid and stable against you, the embodiment of comfort and refuge.

“Yes.” It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever said. Yes. Yes, you want him. Yes, you want to stay with him. Yes, he’s the one you would risk everything for.

And you would, if he gave you that chance.

He sucks in a slow breath. Despite knowing what you would say, to hear it out loud is absurdly thrilling. “That’s all it takes,” he tells you. “I’m not going to pretend that you and I are strangers, talking about exploring going on a first date and hoping it works out. Tonight—last night—took us farther than that. I know you better than that. And I know that I want you next to me for whatever comes next.”

The things you learned about him from his brothers ricochet through your thoughts—how he’d been silly and exhilarated with blossoming feelings for you, making the guys laugh and enjoy his boyish excitement and nervousness, how he’d gone to them with trivial uncertainties, like if he’d said something dumb or if they thought you might be interested in him too.

That’s not the man sitting next to you, not where it matters. He’s sure. Steady. He knows you and your thoughts and your fears now better than any of the other guys’ clueless perceptions of you. He knows you return his feelings. He knows you’re scared of them. He has your hand in his like that’s where it belongs, and goddammit if you don’t believe him.

“Yeosang,” you turn your head to look at him, drinking in his profile, memorizing the lines of his face, cementing the exact shape of that little mark in your mind until you can see it with your eyes closed.

“Hmm,” he meets your eyes, and there’s nothing but quiet assurance there.

What are you even afraid of?

“I’m sorry I made fun of your coffee date idea. It was sweet. I would have loved to get coffee with you.” It should have been said with fondness and promise, but knowing how much thought he had put into choosing that date for you, your voice is only filled with remorse.

A smile cracks across his face. His thumb sweeps over the top of your hand. “How about you let me make you coffee instead?”

Your eyebrows lift. It sounds so domestic, like you’re making plans for tomorrow morning as though you’ve been doing it for years. “Can you even make coffee?”

Damn your inability to have a vulnerable conversation.

But he doesn’t seem annoyed, rather blinking once in pause. “I’ll learn to make coffee, and then I’ll make some for you.”

You snort. “I can make it.” That’s a lie. “Actually, all I have is instant coffee.”

His head falls back against the tree like he’s in pain. “Oh my God.”

“No, wait, I’m out of instant. I can offer you a glass of milk and some stale Oreos.” You really need to reevaluate your pantry situation if you’re going to be sharing meals in the future.

Yeosang groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sugar.”

You just shrug. Most of your food expenses are vending machine lunches eaten over well-worn scripts.

“First thing, when we’re out of here, I’m taking you shopping.” He tells you.

“You know, usually when guys say that, they don’t mean grocery shopping.” You remark lightly.

That gets a chuckle out of him. “You need groceries. Lots of them. Real ones, not packaged in tin cans.”

Something occurs to you with a disappointing start. “You know, I don’t think I’m actually gonna get paid for this program.” Shit, you don’t have any money. You’re gonna have to sign up to teach acting classes just to make rent—which is something you’ve done far too many times to count.

Maybe there’s a weekend seminar coming up that needs teachers.

“I’m taking you shopping.” He repeats with inflection.

“Now hold on, I’m not your charity case. I’m not letting you pay for stuff, I can handle my own living expenses.” You frown at him, flooded with feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment at your inferior financial situation, but he just shakes his head at you.

“You’re not my charity case, but you do need groceries, and I’m going to personally make sure you get them.”

You want to argue with him, but you do need groceries and you can’t properly afford them at the moment. It’s better than giving Jimin more reasons to call you his sugar baby, and at least if Yeosang is offering, you can find a way to make it up to him. “Fine, but don’t get used to it.”

“Okay,” He says, with not an ounce of conviction. He meets your unimpressed stare with an innocent smile. “And you’re definitely getting paid for this program. Like I said, zombies were in the contract. You did nothing but deliver.”

“Oh my god.” It’s your turn for an exasperated groan. “That’s only assuming we don’t have to flee the country.”

“Not to bank on a bunch of evil people dying horrible deaths, but there’s still hope.” Yeosang shrugs, and when you drive your elbow into his ribs he groans dramatically and slumps over.

“Oh god, Yeo—” For a minute you think you might have actually hurt him until you realize that he’s shaking with laughter, not pain. You elbow him again. “Don’t do that, Jesus, you scared me.”

He just pulls himself upright, still laughing. “Sorry.”

You’ve never heard anyone sound decidedly less sorry.

Soft conversation hums from the other guys throughout the group. Hongjoong and Seonghwa are still talking about meals, deciding if they want breakfast or dinner foods. Jongho and Jimin are debating chartering KQ’s private jet (Jongho’s argument) versus sneaking onto a cargo ship (Jimin’s argument) to get away from the government. Wooyoung and San are snoring quietly, slumped against each other, completely knocked out.

It’s not everyone. There are so many people missing, so many cracks in your heart as you count heads and scan faces.

So few of you had survived that stupid program.

But the ones who are here are okay. They’re safe. They’re happy, as much as they can be. If nothing else, they’re capable of being happy and whole and normal when this is over.

You made it.

You survived.

Your soul is bleeding with the ripping away of your family, but you’re not in this alone. You didn’t lose Jimin. You didn’t lose these people, who somehow came out of this wretched experience with the two of you in tow, like they’ve adopted you into their family and have no intention of leaving you behind with the memory of this hell.

This could have been so much worse.

You have one more question. Only one more —one that you don’t think can be answered. Not right now.

But your heart aches with the pressure of it. “What if I’m just a reminder of all of this?” The words fall off your tongue with debilitating weight. Because you will remind him of tonight. He’ll never forget what happened tonight.

None of you ever will.

“All I see when I look at you is my future.” Yeosang meets your wide eyes, glancing at the shocked flush on your cheeks with a satisfied smile. “I get to be cheesy, I’m a songwriter. But I mean that, by the way. This will always be in our past. I can live with that if my future is with you.”

It should be cheesy.

It should be the sappiest line anyone’s ever given you.

But you’re searching yourself, eyes pricking with tears, chest thick with warmth, and all you find are the same words inside you. If your future is him, you can bear tonight.

It’s allowed to be the sappiest shit you’ve ever felt, because you almost didn’t live long enough to hear it.

“You’re right, you are cheesy.” You say, even though tears are slipping down your cheeks in direct opposition of your cool response.

He brushes them away with gentle finger tips, and then his lips are warm against your cheek. “It’s gonna be okay.” He kisses your face again, the words whispered softly in your ear. “I promise, it’s all going to be okay.”

You have to drop your face, overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion and the utter safety of his presence that completely encompasses you. You press your lips to his bare shoulder, wishing you knew how to tell him all the things that are bursting inside of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, the way they always seem to. He lifts you gently to sit between his legs, letting you lean back against his chest instead of the gritty, scraping texture of the bark. “Try to rest, Sugar.” He says against the curve of your throat. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

Wrapped securely in the heat of his embrace, his heart pounding steadily against your back, you’ve never fallen asleep so quickly in your life.

A hand cupping your face startles you awake. The sun is high above you, warming your skin, shining bright light of day down on the forest around you.

Yeosang says your name, sweeping his thumb across your cheek. “Sugar, they’re back. Are you with me?” His hands move to rub up and down your arms as you slowly come back to yourself.

You feel like you’ve slept for hours. Stiffness throbs in your joints, your butt numb and aching from sitting on the hard ground for so long. The fog of exhaustion has lightened a little, and your eyes actually focus when you drag them around the movement happening in your group.

Wooyoung and San are awake now, on their feet, hurrying towards the edge of the tree cluster you’re hiding in. Mingi is sitting with Jimin, both of them craning their necks to see what’s happening.

Taegyeom is calm as he passes where you sit, rifle slung comfortably across his chest as he strolls by.

“What?” You sit up abruptly, clocking the excitement on Hongjoong’s face. “What’s happening?”

Yeosang puts his hands to your back to give himself room to get his feet under him, and he lifts you with him as he stands. “Woosung is back.” He tells you, keeping one arm strongly around your back until you get your bearings.

Looking into his face, you find him watching you with mixed curiosity and concern.

“He’s back? Is he okay? Is it…” You don’t dare to hope.

Your thoughts are scrambling to remember the plan, desperate to put the distant sequence of events in order.

They were supposed to come find you if they survived—but was that only in the event of everything else going completely up in flames? Or are they running? Are they hurrying back to you to escort you out of the country?

You can’t remember.

“Are they hurt?” You ask, trying to see through the trees. “What about the other two? Hajoon and Dojoon?”

“It’s all of them.” Seonghwa says, coming to stand with you. “Like, the Black Berets and all the enlisted men.”

Practically trembling with excitement, you turn back to Yeosang, gripping his arms where they fall around your waist. “What about the service station? It’s open now, right? Did we get any calls out?”

He’s nodding, pulling you closer, settling your weight against him when your bad leg buckles.

“Hongjoong and I went over there about an hour ago, as soon as they opened.” Seonghwa says. “We called everyone we could think of—they’re on their way and should be here soon. We just told them we got lost out here and needed help, and not to talk to anybody. They’re coming.”

They called for help.

People out there know you’re alive.

They’re coming for you.

“Oh my god.” You clutch tighter at Yeosang’s arm, both legs now weak beneath you. While you’re still trying to process the information, the fact that you’re so close to getting out of here, you hear the throngs of footsteps approaching your position.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asks you quietly. “Can you stand? I can put you on my back.”

You’re shaking your head, too scattered by the conflicting hope of victory and the anxiety of bad news. If you have to pack up and start running, you’re going to need help.

But you have to hear the news on your own two feet. You have to face this, whatever this is.

“Not yet.” You let him support you, but no more than that. “Not yet, I’m okay.”

He helps you move closer to the outskirts of your little huddle until you’re standing next to Wooyoung and San, in full view of the entire army trodding in your direction, with Woosung in the lead.

“What’s the situation, hyung?” Taegyeom asks.

“What happened?” Wooyoung demands. “Is it over? Are they following you?”

“We had a front row seat to an utter shit show, that’s what happened.” Woosung utters with a weary sigh, coming to a stop in the middle of your group. “Those guys showed up shortly after you radioed it in, but by then it was too late. That whole field turned into a zombie outbreak. Those fucking parasites were everywhere.”

Hongjoong looks panic stricken. “Are they still out here? Are they loose in the forest? Holy fuck, it’s the end of the world.”

Seonghwa and Yunho are immediately restless, eyes on the ground, kicking at leaves and branches and bushes, as though the giant insects are going to burst out of the ground at any second.

You’re not so sure it’s not a possibility, yourself, until your gaze sweeps around the troops.

The soldiers are milling around wearily, falling into the grass with no apparent concern for an impending zombie apocalypse.

“They started popping out of the burning bodies and attacking the officers. When the reinforcements showed up, they were nothing but a buffet. Delivered like Door Dash right into the hands of those hungry fuckers.” Dojoon says. “I’ve never seen anything so disgusting.”

Hongjoong presses a hand to his chest and falls back against a tree trunk with a heavy sigh. “I’m going to hell for how relieved that makes me feel.”

��Speak for yourself.” Jongho mutters. “Adi-fuckin-os.”

Yunho smacks him right in the chest. “Don’t say that, dipshit, people died.”

“Bad people.” Jongho corrects him. “Bad people died.”

While a large part of you is weighing the same dilemma of unbelievable relief and somewhat heavy remorse as a result, you’re a little sick of letting yourself be a slave to guilt over things you can’t control. “They’re all dead?” You can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it—not if there’s bad news to go with the good.

Yeosang’s arms tighten around you. Even now, he refuses to let you go.

“They’re all hamburger.” Woosung corrects you. “We spent the rest of the time blasting those goddamn bugs to smithereens, waiting around for them to come out of the dead ones. We burned the bodies. Of the officers and the parasites. They’re all but ash now.” He casts a sweeping gaze over your faces, ensuring that the same number of you made it here that escaped the school yard. “I hope you guys are ready to put on the show of your lives. It’s time to go public and go home. And remember—last night was the best night of your lives.”

Silence falls over your group.

They’re all but ash now.

It’s time to go home.

Best night of your lives.

It’s over.

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung breathes. “We’re going home.”

Woosung sits on a fallen tree, peeling his gloves off. “If you convince the world that nothing happened here, and if you convince everyone you know that you weren’t almost eaten alive.” He glances at Hongjoong. “You have a lot of work ahead of you.”

Hongjoong is already digging his phone out of his pocket. “We’ll start right now. I don’t want to give anybody any time to wonder what to do with us.”

Woosung hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got some of these guys bringing your vans up here. There won’t be any sign you were ever there.”

“Jimin,” you whisper, eyes flashing to where he’s still sitting with Mingi. He’s hunched over, palms pressed to his eyes, visibly trembling. You lurch towards him. “Yeo, please,” you don’t even have to finish your sentence.

He brings you to Jimin and helps you sit, crouching next to you.

“Chim,” you put your arms around your best friend and feel him throw himself against you, ragged sobs soaking into your shoulder. “Chim, we made it. It’s over.”

The forest around you comes alive with noise.

Wooyoung and San whooping with excitement. Yunho and Seonghwa laughing like all the tension and stress is just pouring out of them. Hongjoong frantically mumbling about posts and selfies and statements to release to the fans, voice trembling with exhilaration. Jongho barraging the Black Berets for more details, gleefully wringing them for information about the downfall of the men who did this to you.

“We’re going home.” Jimin rasps against you, laughter breaking through his sobs. “Oh my God, Sugar, we’re going home.”

“Yeo!” Wooyoung flies towards you with a shout, clearly intending to tackle his brother in a hug.

Yeosang glances at you, eyebrows lifted in question.

You’re smiling, blinking back tears, nodding for him to go. You’re okay. You’re all okay. All you want to do is see them celebrate.

You survived.

It’s over.

He touches your back, returns your smile with a toothy grin of his own, and then he’s gone, swept into San and Wooyoung’s arms.

“God, Sugar, I thought we were gonna die out here.” Jimin squeaks. He finally lifts his head, scrubbing at his face, and laughs at the sky. “Fuck last night and fuck those goddamn zombies.”

You don’t have time to join in the catharsis of cursing out the absolute hell you’ve just escaped, because Wooyoung and San have moved on to their next target, and now Jimin is crushed between them, helpless to do anything but cry with laughter as they squeeze him from either side.

You’re inadvertently pushed out of the group hug, but you don’t even care.

You don’t care about anything.

Hands catch you under your arms, and then you’re dragged up to face Seonghwa. He yanks you into a hug that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Thank you,” he says in a rush. “We couldn’t have done this without you. Shit, I’m so grateful for you, Sugar.”

You snort gracelessly into his chest. “You mean my zombie program that got us into this mess?”

He squeezes you tighter. “Girl, don’t even start. We’re all going for breakfast. I can’t wait for you to meet our team and everybody. God, we’re okay.”

Hongjoong appears next to you, looping an arm around you to join the hug. “Hell yeah, just as soon as we do an impromptu photo shoot. I need your help staging all of this, Sugar.”

You nod, easing yourself out of Seonghwa’s arms. “We can play the injuries off as horror makeup and prosthetics. If we make it fun and silly and talk about your upcoming episode, then we can go get you cleaned up and into fresh clothes and you can put out some more detailed content.”

Hongjoong is taking notes on the phone, already putting together concepts for solo and unit selfies. “Jeez, I don’t know if I remember my Instagram login. We’ll have to get our phones too. As soon as the vans are here we can do more.”

“We can do lives later, but they’ll notice we’ve still got scratches on our faces.” Seonghwa worries.

You wave off his concerns. “I have amateur makeup skills. I can cover up the scratches if I get a kit from one of our vans. As long as you cover the big bites with clothes, I can make sure no one notices.”

“Some of our fans are scary good at analyzing our content.” Hongjoong says, frowning. “What if they see the makeup?”

“Jimin can manipulate the footage so it looks grainy or choppy, like you’re filming on bad internet. We can cover you until they heal up.” You promise, touching his shoulder reassuringly.

His features loosen and a smile breaks over his face. “Okay. Good.” He turns away from you. “Wooyoung! San! Come over here and pretend you hope to get eaten by zombies again!”

While he trods off to orchestrate the first of your public cover-up, you scan the crowd. The forest is packed with soldiers, your friends dispersed throughout them at random. Jongho is still sitting with Woosung and Hajoon, Taegyeom and Yunho have gone to greet the arrival of the vans as they roar up the road towards the service station.

You can’t believe it’s over.

You’re gonna have to buy a new phone to call your mother.

As soon as you have a phone, any phone, you can arrange for a mobile triage unit to set up at your company to treat all of you discreetly, since they won’t publicize your company until after the episode is released. Nobody should be watching your building, as long as you can make it happen quickly enough.

Oh god, you’re gonna have to write a new zombie program for them to have an actual episode to release.

Fuck your life.

It’s going to be in your building, in the middle of the city, far away from the military, as short as possible, and intentionally the worst program you’ve ever written.

You hope they laugh all the way through it.

Your name reaches your ears and you turn, finding Yeosang pushing through the crowd to get back to you.

He collides with you with an exhilarated laugh, stealing you right out of Seonghwa’s arms. “I promise I’ll still take you to Vienna and Venice and wherever else you want to go but can we stay home for a bit first?” He teases, swaying you together.

Home.

You’re going home.

You can’t even give him an answer.

You tug him down and meld your lips to his, right there in front of everybody. Yeosang drags you against his chest, meeting your kiss with every ounce of fervor that you give him.

Seonghwa gives a shout of surprise, and somewhere you hear Wooyoung hooting at you, but you don’t care.

When you can breathe again, Yeosang rests his forehead against yours and smiles down at you. “Is that a yes?”

You kiss him again, soft and sweet, and he melts against you.

Your heart is singing.

Life may suck as soon as this moment is over, when you have to get work crafting the most important story you’ll ever write, a story that has to save your lives, but for right now, you’re completely alive.

“Let’s go home.”

< last chapter | masterlist

tag list :

[lina-studen]

random shower thoughts regarding the thing that might be making lenore special (and the cause of her death).

tw: death, mentions of suic!de and related topics.

I don't have enough evidence, so I won't be upset if this theory turns out to be wrong, but just wanted to speculate.

lately I've been wondering a lot about what makes lenore different from everyone else in the eyes of the raven. she seems to be the only one who can understand him, and he believes that she may have similar abilities to the deans. as if she doesn't even belong in this academy, dare I say.

I've seen some people in the comments speculate that lenore might still be alive somehow, and is in a borderline state of sorts. I personally don't think that's the case, because in a hundred chapters of the comic, we haven't gotten any hints about it (if I recall correctly, don't quote me on that). what we have been getting hints about is that lenore most likely died from a gunshot to the head. moreover, the clues are both visual and verbal.

and from the very beginning of time, I was always sure that she ended her life herself. this is one of those headcanons (or headshot canons… sorry) that you just believe in until proven wrong. I'm not exactly sure why. perhaps due to analogies with other stories. for example, I recently compared "nevermore" to "death parade": the main character there also found herself in a purgatory situation and was the only one who couldn't remember her death. near the end of the anime it turns out (spoiler here) that she took her own life.

plus, it doesn't seem like such an impossible thing overall. whatever happened at that ill-fated wedding led to annabel lee's death. we still don’t know exactly who murdered her, but in any case it's connected to lenore, so she surely felt enormous guilt. put such a traumatic event in a mix with her not so stable mental state.

during her time at "nevermore", lenore experienced a lot of emotions: fear, sadness, anger, joy, love, pain, relief etc. but none of her experiences brought her closer to the recalling of her death and manifesting. but you know what emotions she didn’t feel? all-eating guilt, wanting to give up, simply not desiring to live… it's a big assumption, but let's say it's possible.

comparing this theory with my other speculation here, lenore might be the only one who's death wasn't caused by the third party.

maybe the cause of her death is the differentiating factor? what if she was supposed to go to another dimension? but for some reason she ended up in the same place as annabel (either because of their connection or because some purgatory secretary decided that self-murder is still murder blah-blah). and now the academy itself and its realm are trying to get rid of lenore, because she doesn't belong here.

sure, these are all far-fetched assumptions based on another speculation, but anything can happen. my moots encourage me to share such thoughts so… I do.

[hollyoongs]

: ̗̀𝖡𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖭𝖤𝖶𝖲 ➛ hello everyone! I think I forgot to mention that I am now back in college (what a nuisance), but today I had my first class of "Communication" and my teacher spoke about artificial intelligence, briefly, and told the class something that I'm possitive that is going to stay in my head until i leave this world.

"Now there are courses that teach you how to write books with the help of this ai, and no matter how great it turns out, they'll always be missing something. The human touch. And yes, also texts that have been made without any of this technology are even detected as generated by artificial intelligence. But artificial intelligence will never change how genuine and pure it is to create a story, a work or even a quote with your brain, feelings and heart."

Wanted to share it over here because it's truly sad how AI has been consuming us (literature-wise), and tbh, it truly made me think a lot on the ride home. I've always loved creating, and despite writing not being in my 2015 bingo card, that made me fall in love with it. I loved that it came with me staring at my ceiling on a random school day in the morning with a plot, or from when I cried so hard that I couldn't breathe after a homework assignment of writing poetry for someone we love but we couldn't tell enough.

It reminded me of why I started writing in the first place at Wattpad (humble start). It was not to reach perfection or gain recognition, but because there was simply too much in my chest that not even my drawings could say it. Yes, I write NSFW mostly (and SFW), but I write messy and raw because that's how I process being alive. AI can generate polishes, almost flawless works, but I'm sure that it will never feel what we, writers, feel with every word we mean in it. It will never laugh as hard as it writes something funny, cry as hard as it writes a melancholic scene, or even feel every stage of happiness, shyness, or excitement as we do when we write about love, friendship, etc.

I'm sure that I'm not the greatest writer; I keep that in mind, but, fuck, I love how my chaotic and complex heart comes out with those fics. And that's what matters more than an algorithm that, to me, is simply an echo.

To my lovely writers, moots, anyone that reads this, please don't stop. Keep your heart out with writing stories, poems, whatever you feel like. Don't let the internet drown you; there's still magic in your works.

[mikefrawley]

snowangelsoul

It is possible to keep some of our innocence. It's part of your nature, Mike, & that makes you a beautiful soul.

sherrylephotography

Beautiful 💖

ends-2-beginnings

Love this. 💝

Kindness Greetings my dear friends, and thank you to everyone who's been kind to anyone today. I just wanted share a litle bit on how blessed we actually are. Here on Tumblr we can and do share both love and kindness with our friends, mutuals if you prefer, and even our beloved *moots all aroubnd the world. Just for a small example, as some of you already know, I'm 66 and my lungs are definiitely not pleased with the abuse they received from my unhealthy lifestyle over far too many years. I'm not looking for sympathy, but I have COPD and have to take it a little easy. Now you'll either love or laugh at this next part. I go to my Chen Tai Chi Class four mornings a week, and to the gym the other three. Trust me, it's not always easy, but I will NOT quit for as long as I do not lterally have to. I know at one or time or another all of us go through hard times, and I pray none of you will quit either. No matter what any of us may face today, please rember we are alive, and this day at least, we could ask for nothing greater! Okay, back to kindness. This morning at the gym I suddenly started coughing and it did not want to stop. I was having difficuly breathing and had to leave and go straight home. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper, but the kindness of a few friends including the ones shared above, helped me get back to a good place. Thank you and love to all, Mike 🩷 *MY VERY KIND FRIEND @snowangelsoul added "I love my moots" to one of her posts, and while I figured it was something very good, I still had a what the censored is that moment. 😂 I looked it up and moots is a very affectionate slang for mutuals, and yes, even us old people can still learn sometimes. 😊

[permetutotheworld]

hi my name is Persephone, but you can call me Seph/Sephy,

I use they/xe pronouns, I’m an asexual lesbian, I’m autistic+adhd,

and I’m a minor (please don’t be creepy I’ve already had two people message me being weird and sexual)

I write a lot of poetry and I’m writing a book at the moment based off of the idea of multiple universes existing at a time, I sing and I love performing, specifically musical theatre

I ALSO TAKE REQUESTS!! I write poetry mostly for them but microfics tooo, for good omens, the marauders, percy jackson, les mis and any TJ Klune books that ive read, just pop a prompt into my inbox and ill do my best to get jt to you as fast as i can <3

my fandoms are : Les Mis, good omens, pjo, marauders, hunger games, aru shah, marvel, doctor who, epic the musical and Tj Clune books

my favourite music: queen, Maisie peters, the last dinner party, the crane wives, Taylor Swift, Florence and the machine, rene Rapp, Chappell roan, David Bowie, blondie, boygenius, Paris paloma, most musicals

favourite books: house in the cerulean sea, under the whispering door, in the lives of puppets (all by TJ Klune)

my tags:

Persephone yaps: my silly little commentary on anything that happens to me

persephone vents: my life low-key sucks quite a lot at time so I vent a bit but I make sure to trigger warning everything triggering

Persephone writes silly stuff: I write silly little poems and stories that I post sometimes

Lovely moots :3 : for my lovely moots

Persephone loves their gf <3 : thats right guys i love my gf so mich and i talk about her a lot

perpendicular universe: posts about my fantasy novel im working onnn

Please dni if you’re queerphobic or discriminate against minorities in general, if you support trump or other dickwads like him or if you’re just going to be mean

also I do struggle a lot with mental health so I probably will randomly disappear or vent but I’ll make sure to trigger warning everything below the cut: my rp blogs, my moots and my fics

My rp blogs:

@nico-sees-dead-people @prongsie-rambles @regulus-the-star @pandora-opens-the-box @sunshine-boy-official

@enjolsaurus-rex @sunshine-prongsie-boy @panda-reads-your-death @lily-petals-falling @stars-andpoems @marlene-and-co @here-and-a-deer

if you like my blog you should check out my amazing mutuals whom I love and adore:

@xenocollector LES MIS RAAA

@sauntering-vaguelydownward literally so sweet ilysm/platonically

@marylily-my-beloved love you Fatimah omg

@aidens-ocean-galaxy very purple coded person and very cool also so genuinely lovely we live laugh love Juno in this household

@theoristswan5683 literally so nice omg they have the loveliest vibes 😭

@ashstillalive Amazing writer amazing person will happily beta read for you anytime

@mae-occasionally-reads so sweet so lovely so cool so glad we’re mutuals love you so much/platonic vibes only MY BEST FRIEND ILYYYSMMM/pl <3333

@definitionoffuckup AL very cool individual

@rafaelthesilly I KNOW YOU IN REAL LIFE POOKIE YOURE THE BEST LESBIAN BUDDIE MY AMAZING SPOUSE ILYSM (platonically)

@inezrable I have more octopus facts for you!!!!!!!

@garden-of-runar the coolest person alive still can’t believe you followed me back althought yoir spice tolerance js weird as shit/lh and paprika is not spicy

@ravenwordss literally so sweet love you/pl

@pyromaniacbibliophile my spouse bc we are married

@cossie-fauchelevant the one and only cosette to my enjolras <3

@delinda24601 SHES SO COOL MY IRL BUS BESTIE LOVE HER TO BITS I FOUNDED HER FAN CLUB SHES SO SUPER COOL GUYS 🩷🩷🩷🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

@im-on-crack-send-help RIYANAAA SO SUPER COOL ILYSM

@startswithahell - cant wait for those unhinged asks omgomg

@biggestqiblifan - I LOVE YOU SM/pl

@the-eclipse-is-in-me - one of my favouritest people on this hellsite

@circe-butbetter - JANA!!! So incredibly cool and iconic

@joanmonet - JOAN!! IRL!! SHE GAVE ME TURKISH DELIGHT AND IS LITERALLY MY WIFE VERY COOL WE SHARE LIKE 90% OF THE SAME INTERESTS !!!! WHAT AN ICON!!! WE FRICKING SAUTÉED ON THOSE EXAMS!!!

@statueofgalatea - 🫵🫵 IN REAL LIFE BEST FRIEND LOVE YOU SMSMSMSM SHARER OF HYPERFIXATIONS LISTENERS OF LESBIAN RANTS LOVE YOU BABE

[jackoshadows]

I have come across some posts/comments saying that Jon Snow will stay as Jon Snow and will never become Jon Stark. Here's the thing though - Jon Snow IS already Jon Stark! He just doesn't know it yet.

As GRRM states:

Q: I have a question, since Robb actually  legitimized Jon and named him his heir for Winterfell and the North  before the Red Wedding (granted no one knows about this and is still  alive or free, the Greatjon knows as does Edmure, but I dont see them  getting out of the Twins any time soon and Catelyn would probably die  before telling anyone) does this make Jon’s rejection of Stannis’ offer  moot? A: Edmure and the Greatjon are prisoners, true… but you are forgetting  the envoys that Robb sent to Howland Reed… Galbart Glover, Maege  Mormont, Jason Mallister… they are all alive and free. As to what is and is not moot… the key point is, only a king can legitimize a bastard……

"Precedent," she said bitterly. "Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe." - Catelyn, ASoS

Robb stood, and as quick as that, her fate was settled. He picked up a sheet of parchment. "One more matter. Lord Balon has left chaos in his wake, we hope. I would not do the same. Yet I have no son as yet, my brothers Bran and Rickon are dead, and my sister is wed to a Lannister. I've thought long and hard about who might follow me. I command you now as my true and loyal lords to fix your seals to this document as witnesses to my decision." A king indeed, Catelyn thought, defeated. She could only hope that the trap he'd planned for Moat Cailin worked as well as the one in which he'd just caught her. - Catelyn, ASoS

So it is done. King in the North Robb Stark has already legitimized Jon Snow as Jon Stark. Edmure Tully, GreatJon Umber, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover and Jason Mallister all now know that Jon Snow is Jon Stark.

They just have not managed to either get word to him (Edmure and the GreatJon being prisoners) or for reasons unknown - most probably because of the Boltons squatting in Winterfell with Northmen as Lannister hostages and Stannis engaged in a campaign in the North - have just not informed Jon about this.

This right here is strong foreshadowing for Jon Stark as King in the North through Robb's Will:

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king." - Jon I, ADwD

At this point it's clearly implied that Lyanna Mormont has heard from her mother. Maege Mormont - who is witness to Robb's last will and decree which names Jon Stark as KITN - is last seen heading to the Neck with her daughters.

Catelyn wondered if Lady Maege had reached the Neck as yet. She had taken her other daughters with her, but as one of Robb’s battle companions Dacey had chosen to remain by his side. - Catelyn, ACoK

In ADwD, Alysane mentions that two of her sisters are with their mother. Which makes it clear that she has heard from Maege.

"Sisters," Alysane Mormont replied, gruff as ever. "Five, we were. All girls. Lyanna is back on Bear Island. Lyra and Jory are with our mother. Dacey was murdered." "The Red Wedding." - The King's Prize, ADwD

Which then implies that Lyanna Mormont has heard from her mother and her declaration is for Jon Stark.

Now of course they could be talking about Rickon Stark, if Maege and Galbart Glover managed to communicate with Robett Glover and Manderly has let them know that Rickon is still alive. However, keeping in mind that Galbart Glover was also witness to King Robb's last decree which legitimizes Jon Snow as Jon Stark, it's very possible this is about Jon Stark as well.

The next paragraph just hits us over the head with foreshadowing that more or less confirms that this is about Jon Stark.

Maege Mormont had ridden south with Robb, Jon knew. Her eldest daughter had joined the Young Wolf's host as well. Even if both of them had died, however, Lady Maege had other daughters, some with children of their own. Had they gone with Robb as well? Surely Lady Maege would have left at least one of the older girls behind as castellan. He did not understand why Lyanna should be writing Stannis, and could not help but wonder if the girl's answer might have been different if the letter had been sealed with a direwolf instead of a crowned stag, and signed by Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell. It is too late for such misgivings. You made your choice. - Jon I, ADwD

Yes Jon, the answer would have been different because Lyanna straight out just declared for YOU! He just doesn't know it yet.

Jon took a knee. The king frowned at him, and rattled the parchment angrily. Rise. Tell me, who is Lyanna Mormont? One of Lady Maeges daughters, Sire. The youngest. She was named for my lord fathers sister.

The fact that it's LYANNA Mormont making this declaration - which GRRM reminds us of in the same discussion when Jon tells Stannis that she is named after his father's sister - just sweetens the whole deal!

[petrichal]

One Piece 1133 talk: Praise Me for Living

i just wanted to open this with I WANT TO PELT SPANDINE AND THAT FUCKING SON OF HIS WITH ROCKS SO BAD OH MY GODDDD

"I'll never forget the sounds of the screams that emerged from the fire" THOSE WERE CIVILLIANS. ON THE ISLAND YOU ORDERED A BUSTER CALL ON. I HOPE YOU CHOKED IN YOUR GRAVE AND SUFFER IN HELL I HATE YOU

(kind of a moot point but one other thing i wanna say when I was reading through the raws was that Spandine says “ガキの皮を被った悪魔だ”/"That's a demon wearing the skin of a child" here which - to me - felt more visceral than the translation. still an insane thing to say about a child though, obviously.

edit: I was thinking how fucked up it was that literally everyone around her believed that she truly was the devil's child, but with descriptions like that (+ rumors spreading about how she can use "freakish sorcery" [-> devil fruits not being common in the Blues?], she'd "slit your throat in the night", and "no human emotions", like she's not human at all) you can see how easy it was for people to get brainwashed into this wrong idea of her when she was young. Government manipulation in, i guess, the entirety of West Blue at the time, ran deep. anyways)

With that outta the way, this chapter is masterful. Im gonna cry. Ive cried already throughout a third of my reading for this chapter, it's just so good. Nico Robin I love you so much

Though its unfortunate that we have to see Spandine again, Oda knows what he's doing bringing back Robin's tragedy at the start of the chapter. We know her story, we've seen her flashback, but it's an entire other thing to see it again in Elbaf, the arc where we know the context of, that Saul is alive, and it gives us a clue that that is where the chapter is heading towards.

Also isn't it crazy that when the dialogue frames Robin as this "dangerous", "unfeeling" person with no heart, the visual we're presented with is her crying as she sifts through garbage to search for food, and then sharing it with a dog?? Hello??? And the panels before that goes "The government won't go into detail about the story" for fear that "the truth" might "traumatize the children", which is CRAZY when slapped upon an image of cipher pol agents with guns actively hunting down a child??? The juxtaposition of Spandine's dialogue and the images that are shown is very telling, it's just so well done.

TW: discussions of suicide (for this part)

We know that Robin was ostracized as a child. We know this. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though. Especially (and especially) when it's shown on the pages clearly of how it affected her.

What got me thinking when I saw this again was that all of West Blue was probably fed this lie from the World Government. Every island she went to knew who she was, literally everyone was warned to look out for her, that she was dangerous and should be turned in. And it's not like travelling out of West Blue was safe, nor was it probably an option that existed for Robin back then- like, she was eight!! How was she supposed to go across the Red Line, the Calm Belt?? She was truly boxed in. She must've felt that there was no other way out. Of course she'd turn to suicide.

That panel of her at the cliff honestly broke me. It's not like it wasn't implied at all back when her flashback was first shown; Her circumstances were difficult for her and it wouldn't be out of left field to think that she might have considered dying. To have it drawn on a page that she considered it, looked down from a cliff, and the fact that the only thing keeping her from jumping was her mother's words and Saul's promise was genuinely heartbreaking. She was so strong to have gone through all of that, she deserves the whole world and more actually

Cut back to the present and she lived through it all and here she is with her family, a place where she belongs aaaaaa 🥲 I love that Luffy gets all huffy (hah) over Robin saying that she can go alone, saying that a captain needs to pay their respects to those who have helped their crew, that it's the honorable thing to do. Sounds like a certain someone, ey? (Ace & Shanks lol, he remembers Makino's lessons from all those years ago too ;v;).

Then they all insist to go with her and it's so cute and I was like oh when did she change her clothes and $@!#>}! ITS THE SAME FIT SHE WORE WHEN SHE MET SAUL FOR THE FIRST TIME!! SAUL'S "FALLEN AND WON'T GET UP" IS BECAUSE HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO GREET HER SO HE DECIDED TO JUST FACEPLANT ON THE BEACH BECAUSE THATS HOW HE MET HER FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! ITS SO SILLY BUT I STARTED TEARING UP??? WHAT????AND THEN THE PARALLELS:

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

my heart...... my heart.....augghjkjsdh..... (speechless)

The fact that the first thing he tells her was about how Ohara's sacrifice wasn't in vain, that traces of them still remain, like Robin, did you hear Vegapunk's message?? That was the message from the people of Ohara, their voices are still being heard!! was so goddang wholesome.

And Robin hears this, and she hears about how Saul survived and the things he heard other people call her, and he's getting angry on behalf of her again but all she wanted (and perhaps, what she truly needed this whole time) was something else;

For Saul to praise her for having survived.

(The Viz translation isn't ~wrong~ with Robin's line here, but I wanted to point out how it was put originally; Instead of "I want to hear nice things about how I survived!", the raws read “生きたこと… 褒めてほしい！”, which, as I understood it, "I want you to praise me... for being alive/having survived!". The chapter title has it as "Nice Things" but the original was “褒めてほしい”/ "I want you to praise (me)". And this probably seemed self-conceited in english?? and that's why it's translated like that idk, i just thought its nicer in jp)

But the fact that Robin is asking this of Saul and the fact that she's able to make that request in the first place is where I sobbed because this is what Robin wants to hear!!! It's a childish, selfish request, and it's something she wasn't able to wish for / doesn't allow herself to wish for before because she thought Saul/anyone she loved from her past was dead this whole time or that she didn't deserve it, but Saul is alive, and it's the first step she needs to take to truly heal!! Her changing her clothes and cutting her hair to seem more like herself when she was younger is a deliberate choice, this is the part of her that needs closure, the part of her that went through all the trauma the world had given her, and she's healing her inner child!! She needed to hear this from Saul!! She deserves this so much!!! (im rambly if this doesnt make any sense im sorry khfdjk)

And Saul laughs, and says of course!/“勿論だ！”, no questions asked, and the unconditional love just broke me down man i cant

Note that Robin was smiling this entire time (maybe from the start of the arc? or at least since she cut her hair) and leading up to the last page was when she finally started breaking down. They're crying, the crew's crying, Luffy looking on so fondly, happy for her, and I'm crying. I love One Piece so much, I love these dorks. I don't think I'll forget this last page for my life, it's one of the best moments in this series to date.... Truly the Robin chapter of all time <3

bonus: lmfao?? maybe they'll let him down once they get back for the festivities but rip bozo

[mit-hire-me]

intro ig :]

Hi! I'm Peter! or Pete, if we're friends/moots

few things to know about me!

i'm a junior in high school! i'm best with science and math, but i'm not too bad at english. History sucks, though. (no offense sargeant barnes and captain rogers)

i'm an intern at stark industries! its a really cool position, and i get all close with the tech and the building process too

i'm super into Dungeons and Dragons, Magic: The Gathering, LEGO, Star Wars, anything like that. I typically play a red/blue commander deck, but i have some crazy broken decks that i like to bully people with :] (mostly Ned)

I do photography in my free time! (which is barely any) sometimes I post my pictures up here!

i'm biromantic and asexual!

recently came out as transmasc!!

all in all, i'm (hopefully) sorta cool! my asks are open, so say hi if ya want to!

//ooc portion:

no ships or nsfw!! this peter is a minor!

sorta a mix between comic peter and mcu peter

he's trying desperately to keep his identity a secret still, timelines fucked though so he's up to date with thunderbolts but not erased from memory and MAY. IS. ALIVE. DENIAL IS A RIVER AND I'M DROWNING.

main is @mythikade

[taegimood]

ANNOUNCEMENT

———

i know i haven’t posted for nearly 2 months already at this point, but i’m here i guess to announce an official hiatus or, i guess i’ll call it a semi-hiatus ..

i didn’t bother to mention it before cuz honestly i think my community here has just become pretty dead and not very salvageable atp unless i work my ass off to try keeping it alive. and this is NOTTT to sound all emo teenager “woe is me” but, during these last 2 months i haven’t gotten any asks or messages from anyone noticing that i was gone except for the one anon i just responded to a few hours ago, so i honestly just figured it wouldn’t really matter whether i made a hiatus post or not 🤷🏻‍♀️ it is what it is.

my blog and the community i had here never really returned to what it used to be after my last hiatus no matter how hard i tried, and these days unfortunately the only way to stay remotely relevant or on anyone’s radar is to devote all of your spare time and energy here which i just simply cannot do.

even if i could afford to do that, i just have zero desire to fight to put in so much effort just so that people don’t forget about me or my works. that’s not what tumblr was supposed to be about. i’m tired.

a lot of it is also me at war with my own thoughts, and i hope that one day i can reach a place again where i’m happy just writing for myself even if my work doesn’t feel as appreciated as hoped for. and i hope as well that writing can be what it used to be for me: a passion and not a burden. these are mindsets that i need to start working on for myself.

anyways. i’m not leaving leaving, i still come on here at times to read stuff and see what my moots are up to so, i’ll still be around to interact on posts and stuff.. and as for writing i guess i’ll just.. post something if i happen to feel like it or when i have enough energy 🤷🏻‍♀️ idk i really do miss it but my drive for this blog is just down the toilet atp as well as my general mental health and i haven’t even written for 2 months now so.. (although i have been considering trying to write again recently so we’ll see)

i love you all, i thank you for all the support; my dms and inbox are ofc still always open for interactions but i guess this is now an indefinite semi-hiatus.

see you when i see you.

xx minji

[psi-spectacular]

Ok. So. I've been unsucessfully trying to gather my ideas and draw them, so instead I'm gonna make a textpost about P-loop to explain things.

Patty wakes up in buzzhuzz, last day before the end. Vib brings her to a wishing well, and she makes her own wish before continuing on. Going about as normal, following orders, accidentally mentioning her crush, getting reprimanded and having to wear a bucket on her head, things like that.

But she wanders off, bucket still on her head, looking for Capo to ask some extra questions. But shes been told not to take the bucket off, and who is she to disobey? (even if shes been questioning so much lately and is currently thinking of rebellion.)

So, she walks off, goes the wrong way, trips...

and cracks her head on pool tile.

And she wakes up again. The pain in her head is still there, just as blinding as the moment before. But she's alive, in her bed, no bucket on her head. Maybe it was just an odd dream? But then everything repeats, every sentence, every moment is so familiar. And the dream she had is so fresh in her mind, more than any other she'd had. She realizes: this is the same day. A little voice in her head tells her to go to the wishing well. And she meets Sol.

Sol is basically her loop, informing her that shes in a timeloop (though they didn't expect her to die so quickly the first time, so be more careful PLEASE) and she's likely to be stuck here a while, so get comfortable! Sol takes on a bit of a more nurturing role, very solemn in her own way and less sassy (though they does have their own quips).

At first, Patty thinks its really cool! She's a time traveller, able to reset just to fix things! She learns about Capo and Inspektas plan, and decides that's why shes here! She's gotta reset until they beat Inspekta! And after a few mishaps and quite a few loops, she manages to help gather everyone and talk Inspekta down!

But... that doesn't fix things, does it? Hector starts yammering about how something is wrong and he can sense it and he doesn't know what it is and

a tug at her stomach

shes back in buzzhuzz.

Did she do something wrong? What was she meant to do? Did she get there too late, so it didn't count? Was she supposed to be the one to talk Inspekta down instead of Godpoke? Did she need to bond with her friends more? Did she need to climb the spire herself???

She keeps trying new things, but nothing she does works!! She always winds up in the same place at the end of the day, and there's nothing she can do about it! She keeps looping and looping and no matter what she does nothing changes! Any bonding she does is rendered moot by twilight! Any attempts to rebel against Capo are useless! Is she dead, and this is her purgatory??

Click Clack seems to get more and more suspicious of her every loop, noticing the inconsistencies and plot holes and odd deus ex machina that's suddenly appearing in his story.

Its all gonna be fine. Its fine! Shes fine!

eh...

[cupcakewebkinz]

Haii, I've been thinking about our idea of Delilah cutting out Vee's charge so she won't become overstimulated and start doing zoomies and stuff. I actually got something in mind tho-

After Gardenview shutdown, Vee understood that she won't last long with her cutted out battery as she would either malfunction from lack of charge, or not being able to escape danger. She also felt absolutely terrible and drained, constantly driven by thoughts of being a burden and not bringing any benefit. Her inability to understand why some toons think she is rude and emotionless only weighs on her more. Even with the support of her loving girlfriend and friends, she couldn't bring herself to think that everything would be okay in the future, because she was literally falling apart at the seams. That's why she decided that she needed more energy. She thought that she would be much more useful to others, that she would no longer be a burden. But she couldn't do it on her own, that's why she first turned to Shelly for help. But Shelly wasn't that good at fixing her gf at the time, so they turned to Brightney. Maybe she would know something about her system,because she's smart!! But she couldn't do much either. And then, having lost hope, Vee went to Dandy. Making a flower talk was a very difficult task, especially for Vee, so she had to immediately lay out everything that was eating her ftom the inside. And Dandy simply couldn't refuse his friend. Yes, they have disagreements, but nevertheless, they care about each other, no matter how much they denied it. And then Dandy entered Vee's system, and with great effort, but managed to remove the battery limiter from her. (I personally hc that Dandy somehow knows about lot of stuff including how Vee's system works. He has a lot of free time,so he study. Blehh😝) After that, they did not cross paths so often, alas. But thanks to Dandy, Vee started to feel a lot better. She noticeably became more active, and also rediscovered what zoomies are, lol. By the way, it was when Shelly learned how to calm Vee down during zoomie, or help her through it together. Whaddya think?

- Dandy anon!!! I actually asked you a lot of stuff here, just didn't sign it!! /silly

YOU'VE BEEN ALIVE THE ENTIRE TIME YOU STINKER!!!!! I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU!!! I get it though, sometimes you really wanna stay anonymous - but I do care about my named anons very much yes indeedy~

Feel free to keep switching between not using it and using it man, but please do let me know you're still good sometimes, okay? I love y'all (platonically) like I love my moots, I just wanna make sure y'all are okay ♡

TIME FOR LORE YEEAAAHHH!!!

Vee honestly wouldn't actually know why she's sluggish, she just assumed she was built like that since she only had like, what- 2-3 days of full battery before Del noticed her zoomies. Arthur watched her for the first few days and thought her zoomies were hilariously adorable, he has no idea she stopped because she had her battery capped - he thought she grew out of them. If only he knew... 😔

Anyways-

I feel like most of the rest of it is pretty on par though!

She would always ask Shelly to see if she can find out what's wrong, and Shelly obviously would happily try - but without Veronica there to give her lessons, she's left clueless as fuck. So Vee would go to Bright and Glisten, since they both have basic knowledge of her systems and could possibly figure out if she needed a new battery or if something was installed to limit her instead. Brightney would be the one to find out about the cap first, but neither her or Glisten would be able to remove it without possibly breaking something in the process.

So Vee would begrudgingly go to Dandy, who she doesn't really like because he started acting very different before Gardenview fully closed and she hated it. They'd absolutely argue at first, but he'd probably say something that makes Vee break down and finally snap and tell him everything that's going on with her and they'd... Actually have a bonding moment then. He'd be the Dandy she grew up with, just for that moment, and be comforting her and being completely honest with her again, being her best friend once again as she buried her screen into his sweater - just like she used to when she got overwhelmed and he comforted her through it. He'd fix her right up again, though afterwards it would be back to the Dandy we see in game - pretending like nothing is wrong and that it was foolish to think Gardenview really was fully closed to. Coping in a horrible way that made his ex friends think they were delusional. That he wanted them to twist.

But Vee clings to that memory of being fixed by him and being reassured again like a lifeline because at the end of it all - she still loves and misses the other mains dearly. She still wants to be his friend - but she knows that the Dandy she was friends with is long gone now.

And yes, Dandy wears a sweater in my au, specifically only when Gardenview has no guests. Why? He just likes how it feels, seriously- that's it. He just really likes how wool feels. He's such a dork before the incident... I need to write pre-incident caretaker Shanon au Dandy and actually post it for once goddamn. He's such a cutie patootie-

AGH I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT S+R AU'S DANDY TOO OH MY BOY MY BABY-

wait what if that dandy meets this vee and shelly-

Wait.

Wait that would be so cute actually-

GOD DAMMIT KAI STOP GIVING YOURSELF IDEAS THAT AREN'T RELATED TO THE ASKS- /silly (and to myself)

[blueberrylovv]

hi! I’m sorry if this is a rude question, but I remember that you were friends with honey, and I was wondering if you know if they’re okay? They just sort of disappeared and I’ve been wondering if they’re just got termed or if something Again I apologize if this is inappropriate to ask, I have trouble figuring out whether things are okay to say or not. And if you don’t know or if it isn’t something that should be shared I totally understand, I just thought it would be worth it to ask.

hi dw it's not an inappropriate question at all!

i haven't spoken to honey in a while, i think it's because i disappeared for a while and then when i was gone they disappeared and we kinda missed each other in that. but i know they are back, they got termed a while ago but they got a new acc but it's not really an e'd acc now, i think now they post mostly personal updates. they are still talking to the people they were close with before and they are alive and here but they are not creating content anymore.

i dont know if i should be giving their new acc to people tho... i mean i know they could just block people they don't want there but i don't want to send a wave of new followers their way (not me assuming i have large enough following that said 'wave' could be created but still i dont want to risk overwhelming them in any way) and i think all the close moots they had before already found them :c

we don't talk anymore but i see them on my tl from time to time so i know they are alive and here and still keeping up with the friends they've made here and i often think of them, i really hope they will be okay bc honey is a really sweet person and i only wish them best for them.

again sorry for not giving you their @ i know there are/were posts floating around with it but i'd rather not give it myself simply bc i never asked honey for permission and since we dont talk i have no idea how they are feeling about sharing their @

but don't worry your question wasn't inappropriate, i think it's sweet that you were worrying if they are okay! i hope you have a lovely day and stay safe <3

[fukounachan]

i accidentally fell asleep while waiting for my stuff to charge, it was my responsibility and i was supposed to hang out with a bff of mine along with it, so i feel very guilty about that.

but i guess ill just have to make up for it by yapping about something special,,so buckle up if ur planning to read this, it's a long one (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

you already know i have a jirai danshi bff too right? you've prolly seen a couple of my tags mentioning him under other jirai danshi accounts for him to follow or moot with.

ill give him a little nickname here now the more i talk about him, ill name him Mr. Menhera-chan.

hes a very sweet guy who's willing to do anything for his friends, but it's a shame when most of his friends make him feel like he'll never be noticed/heard; so its always been me lately to help him out with that. and since im his only bff he has so far, he seems to prioritize me in a way. not that im trying to complain..! i just feel really bad for him, and im willing to help him out as much as possible like he does with me. its only fair if i return the favor ofc. im guessing also bc we see eachother as twins or a mirror of eachother

Mr. Menhera-chan is who keeps helping me to stay alive when things have been getting really too low for me lately and when im starting to lose hope, i can't thank him enough for his support and how he talks to me through my problems.

id say the saddest part about our friendship is that we've had an awfully rough history with each other in our early stages of our friendship to where we still feel guilty about each other's actions, but i met him during the worst point of everyone's life of all time; 2020 + 7th grade. so im not gonna blame our current selves for not knowing any better in a time like that when we were still so young about everything else. but i still don't like how much of a negative impact it has made to where his family hates me and gets really strict about him nowadays on his "privacy", but that never stopped Mr. Menhera-chan to hide my identity from them and continue to stay being my best friend in private--thats how far he's willing to go for his friends.

i really adore this type of bond we have with eachother, we call eachother and play around until we're too tired to keep playing, like we're little kids having our first sleepover. we sing along with eachother, as if it's our last time we get to hear our voices like this. i listen to what he likes, he listens to me. we're always so patient with eachother now.

i never want our bond to be misinterpreted as something far more than that, because we've already been through that terrible cliche. and there should be more male + female friendships that feel comfortable with eachother like this that know it's okay to feel this way regardless of gender and shit like that. i cannot stress that out enough on how ive seen people immediately stereotype these friendships as "couples" over it, and it's so stupid. Mr. Menhera-chan and I both have a partner, so there's no way in any universe we're together like that.

i wanna treat him with the care he deserves after being ignored for so long; i wanna bake him a cheesecake, help him do his hair and nails while we pick out the perfect jirai or morute outfit for him today and gossip about the most stupid things our school has done.

i adore you, to who i know is specifically reading this. i see you in your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite songs, your favorite weather, i see you. im so sorry i wasnt able to play with you tonight, and that this might be our last chance to play together like this. just know that i love you man. /plat