Sal In A Record Store (made By Me)

He barely got to hold her

gihun and jungbae happy and safe

Something some people don't understand is that Squid Game is an ALLEGORY

Yes, many characters are very dictated (/doomed) by the narrative, beholden to their convictions, BECAUSE IT’S AN ALLEGORY.

Yeah, some things don't seem 100% realistic (although it's a fantastically well thought out world and story), BECAUSE IT’S AN ALLEGORY.

This story, these characters, THIS ENTIRE WORLD was meticulously staged TO SEND US A MESSAGE.

It's about capitalism. It's about classism. It's about the evil of hoarded wealth. It's about the dehumanization and infantilization of disadvantaged groups by privileged ones. It's about choice and autonomy, and how neither of those mean much - and yet, mean EVERYTHING - when all you have are bad choices. When all you've BEEN GIVEN are bad choices.

It's about the violence of poverty. About what people become when they have no other choice. About what people become when they don't have even the basics of life provided for them, the selfish beasts we must become to survive when those situations are imposed - and about how, then, we're blamed for it.

It's about the way we're pitted against one another while those in power sit back and watch. It's about the violence of consumption - specifically media consumption.

Of course In-ho is a little evil; HE EXISTS TO SHOW US WHAT HAPPENS TO NORMAL PEOPLE WHEN YOU FORCE THEM INTO THOSE CHOICES.

Of course Gi-hun trusts too easily, accepts Young-il as a friend despite that damning number on his chest; HE EXISTS TO SHOW US THERE’S ANOTHER WAY.

just got shot 99 times

When you suddenly remember that Ali had a wife and baby, and nobody ever told Gi-hun about them. Sang-woo was the only person who knew about Ali’s family, and he didn’t say anything, so they never got any help.

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

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

summer longing

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.

baby harry’s halloween costume 🫶