Gi-hun Missing The Point Of The Joke

Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

this is so real but i eat up some of those x readers

Bro, I can’t keep seeing people thirsting over Sangwoo x fem reader. I’m sorry… HE IS GAY. He likes homosex. He is of the bent nature. He is a synonym for ‘odd’. He likes MEN.

It just makes me giggle reading the intense thirst posting because it’s so alien to me!… he’s so gay it’s so…

🌕☁️

Early Valentines gift besties

sobbing AGAIN

This is a continuation of the cliff scene in which the Hwang brothers face each other on the same cliff again - and Jun-ho "pew-pews" himself

@crazyhappycat requested this

(trigger warnings: guns, violence, suicide, blood)

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

In-ho lunged.

Heart in his throat. Legs burning. The world narrowed to the sight of Jun-ho’s finger beginning to tighten on the trigger –

“Jun-ho!”

And then –

The shot.

It cracked through the air, sharp and merciless, echoing off the cliffs like the final word in a conversation they never finished.

Too late.

The recoil snapped Jun-ho’s head back, his body jerking once before crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut.

“No!”

In-ho reached him just as he tipped backward, just as gravity began to drag him toward the cliff’s edge. His hand shot out, grabbing Jun-ho by the wrist, fingers wrapping around cold skin as the rest of his bory crumpled.

“No. No, no, no –”

The wind roared around them, cold and merciless, howling over the crashing waves below. But In-ho didn’t hear any of it – not really.

All he could hear was the ringing in his ears. The echo of the gunshot.

The silence that followed.

He gritted his teeth, muscles straining as he hauled Jun-ho’s body back, dragging him away from the ledge and into his arms. The sea roared below, indifferent.

He collapsed to his knees, cradling Jun-ho’s limp form against his chest. His hands were everywhere. Desperate. Wild.

One clutched at the blood blooming at Jun-ho’s temple. The other searched blindly – his throat tightening – fingers trembling as they pressed against his neck. His wrist. His chest. Desperate for a pulse. Any sign. Any hope.

“Come on. Come on, please –”

But there was nothing.

No pulse. No breath. No flicker of life behind Jun-ho’s eyelids.

Just stillness.

And blood.

So much blood.

In-ho let out a sound that didn’t belong to any language – broken, raw, and guttural. A noise ripped from the part of him he’d buried so deep he thought it would never surface again.

“No,” he gasped. “No, no, no –”

He pulled Jun-ho into his lap, cradling his head with shaking hands. One palm pressed uselessly against the wound, trying to stop blood that had already stopped flowing.

His other hand cupped Jun-ho’s face, thumb brushing gently over a cheek that was already growing cold.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Please, don’t do this. Not like this.”

He rocked back and forth, holding him close, forehead pressed to Jun-ho’s.

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he mumbled over and over again, like if he said it enough, it would make it true. “I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m right here.”

But Jun-ho didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

In-ho’s arms tightened around him, curling protectively as if shielding him from the wind, the cold, the finality of it all.

He’d done everything – everything – to keep this boy safe. Raised him. Carried him. Loved him harder than he ever allowed himself to love anything.

This was the boy who had clung to his pant leg at five years old. The boy who waited by the window when In-ho came home late from night shifts. The boy who used to fall asleep with his head in In-ho’s lap during movies.

And now…

Now he was gone.

“Come back,” In-ho begged, rocking him gently. “Please… please come back.”

But there was only the wind. The sea. And the weight of the body in his arms.

The weight of failure.

The weight of the one thing he couldn’t save.

He rocked him gently, like it would do any good. Like it would pull the life back into him. Like he was five years old again and just needed to be held.

But Jun-ho didn’t stir.

In-ho sat there, knees scraped from the rocky ground, arms wrapped tightly around Jun-ho’s lifeless body. The blood had soaked through his sleeves, staining his chest, his hands, his skin.

It would never come out.

Nothing would.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Minutes. Hours. It didn’t matter. Time didn’t exist in this place anymore – not when the person who made it mean something was gone.

Lee jung jae as Lee han in the young man 1994.

@rhubarbspring

Hey hey, as a librarian, can I just say don’t pace yourself at the library. I get a lot of customers saying “oh I shouldn’t get too many books out at once” but like you should!!!! Max out your card, take everything we have on a subject you’re interested in, make a book fort in your home. We love that shit! It doesn’t matter if you read them or not; just take them for an adventure and bring them back whenever they’re due!

For public libraries, one of the ways we secure funding year to year is lending. Governments don’t want to fund more books if they’re not being used and the way we measure use is by issues. Regardless of whether you read it or not, whether you have it for a day or a month, if you issue it to your library card, we get the stats! It makes the library look good!

Help your local library; get books out even if you know you can’t read them all!

sang-woo my beloved

*about to be executed* "Sang-woo's last act of love was killing himself so Gi-hun wouldn't have to do it-"

Soul of her

how do you write a eulogy for someone who isn't dead yet?

(text is from a journal entry from TLOU pt 2)