・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . HELLS TASK 002 : aesthetic.
i know you’re nothing like mine cause she’s walking on sunshine . and your love would tear us apart , and i know i’m not your type cause i don’t shun the daylight , but baby i’m willing to start .
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@arsmcriendis
・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . HELLS TASK 002 : aesthetic.
i know you’re nothing like mine cause she’s walking on sunshine . and your love would tear us apart , and i know i’m not your type cause i don’t shun the daylight , but baby i’m willing to start .

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The body will always make more room / for grief.
Kate Gaskin, from “Poem with a Possible Unidentified Flying Object,” published in Tin House (via lifeinpoetry)
pddyocnnr·:
you seem like you’re capable. he COULD be. on a good day. when he was motivated. when he wasn’t tired. when adrenaline sought out his veins and tore through them quickly. but was really … none of those things right now. he just wanted to curl up and SLEEP for awhile. ignore the dead. ignore the living. he knew he wouldn’t be able to with so many dead floating around outside his door though. it wasn’t FAIR. he’d been having such a quiet night. “ i ain’t got any luck ‘round me. i’ll DIE real fast out here. ” maybe it was an attempt to get her to HELP him. maybe he just wanted some damn company. he couldn’t quite figure out why his feet had followed after her in the first place. he wasn’t one to drag others into danger with him. “ but … ye shouldn’t have to deal with all’a them either. so i’ll let ye go and … maybe i’ll see ye ‘round at some point. if iMAKE IT. ”
this is a monologue, minji thinks, it has to be. the driver stops in her tracks, brown hues squinting at the view before her while her ears perk up at what she immediately decides to be BULLSHIT. this is a man who had threatened her … and maybe it’s her distrustful nature, but she doesn’t think he’s that … bad at surviving a horde. “what are you doing?” she questions, “why are you talking like that? i –“ minji shakes her head, “– a horde like that? um… uh, i think – i think you ‘ making it ’ would just be a dream, now.”
waverlycardoso:
Hatred festers within her, cresting at the ridge of whatever self-control Waverly can still lay claim to in light of that little outburst. The thought of surrendering even just a fraction of her agency to satisfy Minji’s demands sets her on edge. Hasn’t she contended with enough bad memories for today? Apparently not because here she is, ready to act as someone else’s DOLL again; it’s not Thalia or Noah with their hand on the crank this time but Minji Gun in all her condescending glory, ready to wind her to life and tell her in which direction to twirl in. She squares her jaw.
Not too late to shoot her in the leg, you know. Give the biters something to chew on for a bit.
It’s a stroke of luck that the renewed sound of bullets tears through the shop when it does, giving her cause enough to flip back the switch on survival mode. She blows out a low breath and regroups. Better to be caught between a rock and a hard place than a pack of biters and some jackass hillbillies. Waverly lowers her gun and brushes past Minji to take her place at the front, lips drawn in a thin straight line as she begins moving forward, hoping for both their sakes that the other girl knows better than to press her luck for a second time. Forgiveness wasn’t wired into her nature and neither was patience for that matter.
“Keep it up, sweetheart,” she calls over her shoulder, tone wry. “You might just have a future in the raider business once this is through. Who knows – maybe we’ll end up bunkmates.”
minji flinches at the term of endearment, she flinches at every word out of her mouth. she doesn’t appreciate that joke ... not because it is tasteless or said in a rather inappropriate time, but because it rings familiar. she is not fit to be a survivor, at least not the kind that is welcomed into the manor, but it has never really crossed her mind that she could be fit enough to be a raider until she had been caught. caught, like a deer in headlights. violence is not something that her own hands are capable of ( she knows it, though ... her hands have met violence and she momentarily tugs the sleeve of her shirt ), and threats are meaningless coming from the mouth of a part-mute and part-ghost of a living person ... but she’s been told that before, and now these things are questioned. the conversation is one that minji isn’t sure that she could remember now, and certainly, this doesn’t persuade her into giving in to a strange man’s proposition.
“don’t call me that,” the young woman’s voice is a squeak, a quiet little thing that will surely get lost among the noise. she searches her pockets again for the car keys, “i don’t want to be in any business.” so leave me alone. “i’d like this to be the, uh ... the LAST TIME i ever see you.”
lcngley·:
ODD is a word too simple, too b l a n d to attach to her name. but what other term can he use ? she’s a silent being, all cold stares and short words. she gives little of herself to be comprehended – and perhaps that’s not what she craves. perhaps the shadows and the MYSTERY are what she’s more interested in: not everyone likes being deciphered. and he can get behind that, really; comprehend the need to blend in with the curves of a question mark. he himself prefers that: most people t h i n k they know him, but few have ever caught real glimpses of the man behind the charming smiles and soothing words. it’s no fault of theirs, truly; he’s just…BETTER. wired with more complexity, more alert – P E R S P I C A C I O U S. their stupidity is merely a byproduct of their upbringing, of their inferiority. he doesn’t think minji differs from the bunch as much as she believes she does.
he knows the roads. he knows the STREETS and the winding alleys. he knows which way they’re heading and he knows about the intersection. he’s a fucking moderator and one that spends most of his time OUTSIDE of camp. working. working for them. working for his own benefit. he has dealings in every corner of boulder county. he knows the intersection. he just plays D U M B, because if she’s keen on spending QUALITY TIME with him, there’s something she wants. would her intentions be violent ? if they are, he’s not worried. he’ll end her life and blame a s t r a n g e r. he’ll take the body back with him so amal can bury her. HELL, he’ll even cry at her funeral. he’ll blame himself. he’ll say he wasn’t careful. he’ll say it should have been him. and they’ll forgive him, because while they’ll miss the little driver her foul stares and horrid imagination push people away, and they’ll forget about her. but theo ? charming, charismatic, HELPFUL theo ? the damn peacekeeper ? oh, they’ll be glad it was HER and not HIM. minji pulls over on a driveway. he considers the option of her wanting to abandon him there – it’s always in the cards. he nods regardless and opens the door, but before climbing out he looks at her. ❝ thanks, i appreciate it, ❞ one leg off the vehicle and he turns back, ❝ you don’t need to explain anything to anyone if you don’t want to. claire will know regardless. ❞
of course, all it takes for minji to lose her nerve is eye contact. she mistakenly looks to him at the same time he decides to turn back, to let her know that she is not obligated to speak about anything that had just happened to them in the past hour or so ... that ‘ claire will know regardless ’. she is tempted to make a mockery out of it — SHE ALREADY IS, really, by how she nods as if she knows, understands a word out of his mouth. balfour is as foreign to her as lionscrest is ... and her anxiety has failed her numerous times in learning who is who. but her anxiety has been the only thing that can be trusted : it has taught her how to be beside herself, to rely on her own on days when people seem to be more dangerous than usual. now, though, it is running its long fingernails across her skin and finding places to dig them into ... deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to hit a bone.
“would amal?” isn’t that always the first concern? minji hates how the thought comes to her, but she hates the taste of the leader’s name in her mouth even more. there’s an awkward silence as the driver tries to find something to hold onto, to grasp as not to let this flounder any further than it seems to already have. she clears her throat, “she might think that, uh ... that i was probably the one who did something.” oh, but now, it sounds as though she is actively blaming him. minji doesn’t feel bad, minji is blaming him. “might question me ... but –” a slight tilt of her head, looking at theo through the corner of her eyes. “– as long as it was a raider ... right?”

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i never thought one person could manage to fill my tiny body up with so much anger, but then i see you. how dare you be so cheerful after all the misery you’ve caused me. nobody else can see what you are, but i’ve seen it in your throat. you can’t hide the darkness from me anymore, you monster.
therealcassporter·:
‘ trust me. ‘
cassie grinned as she began making a second grilled cheese. she chose to ignore the woman’s comment about keeping secrets from the camp. she didn’t keep secrets but she didn’t spill every single detail she knew. she wasn’t necessarily dishonest.. if someone truly needed to know about the miracle cheese she’d found, she’d tell.
‘ excuse me? ’ are the two words that cross her mind, that she wants to say. the way that the older woman even smiles : all of it seem as a mockery of sorts. minji doesn’t appreciate this ... and suddenly, she regrets being pulled out of her music to investigate something that wouldn’t even benefit her.
“no,” she says flatly and how CHARMING she is through her glares. “it’s fine. i’ll ...” truthfully, minji can feel her skin crawling – and she wants to leave. “i’ll just stick with the vegetable soup.”
saycrs·:
sudden offense finds it’s place on porcelain features ; wide eyes, mouth agape. of-freakin’-course the walker would find herself more … delectable … it doesn’t take long for oona to scurry from it’s path and closer to the other. ❝ um … you’re welcome? ❞ she says, eyes narrowing slightly. the eldest sayer child is not exactly f r i e n d l y — but she goes after what she deserves. and right now it’s a simple ‘thanks’. ❝ i was lookin ahead until you almost became bait. ❞ she tells the girl. under normal circumstances, oona would call her pretty. but she’s in no mood to admit that now. she’d rather fight off a dozen walkers. ❝ so, again, you’re welcome. ❞
she finds herself walking alongside the girl, and it throws her off momentarily. minji's not sure what brings her so close ( really, she would've much preferred that they part ways ... ), but now there's two of them being chased by some lone walker. if the announcement rings true, then they'd eventually meet a horde. how exciting.
minji looks in her direction, brows knits together ... "what do you want?" she questions bitterly — questions because they must want something and frankly, minji has nothing to offer ...
me whenever someone says something remotely positive about me
saycrs·:
a bored, dull look covers delicate features. platinum hair is a mess, tasseled and tangled into a bun on the top of her head. keeping her eye out as she walks back to her place, green eyes spot another survivor. it’s not her job to protect them, she’s half tempted not to say anything at all about the walker on their tail. but her conscience wouldn’t allow for that. ❝ HEY! คนบ้า! ❞ a huff escapes plump lips. ❝ look behind you. didn’t you hear the announcement? it’s not safe out here. ❞ nevermind the fact that she’s out, unprotected and on her own.
foreign is the word that's directed at her ; it's not a nice word, she knows that enough by how it's said. minji finds little in herself to be offended, much less care — did she know about the biter following her? ... no ... but minji watches silently as it catches the sound of another voice. its course has changed somewhat. the young woman stares at the little girl : white-haired, she looks like an actual doll. "look ahead of you," she says. "maybe next time, keep your voice down." and just like that, minji continues on her own path ... she doesn’t have time for this.

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pddyocnnr·:
“ i gotta brag about somethin’ in this world. and i’d say that’s a pretty brag-worthy accomplishment. ” it WASN’T but he didn’t really care at this point. he wasn’t sure he’d know this girl for much longer. she seemed EAGER to escape his presence and he couldn’t really blame her entirely. most days HE wanted to escape himself too. as she walked by him and pointed over her shoulder, patrick’s eyes widened and his heart DROPPED. they were CLOSE. he could hear them. “ oh shite. come ON. yer really gunna leave me here to deal with all’a them?? it sounds like at least fifty. ” at this point, he was moving after the girl quickly. he could have just vanished into his safe haven but he didn’t want to deal with the noises of the dead all damn night.
has she mentioned how unimpressed she is? minji knows that she should be nice — this is a stranger who has a weapon, who shows himself to be someone who seems to be as apathetic ... and those who are apathetic could be DANGEROUS. she’s learned that, she’s been told. but she couldn’t care less. her ears pick up the sound of his footsteps and she turns slightly, seeing him in the corner of her eye. “what do you want me to do?” she says, almost condescendingly. “you seem like you’re capable,” a pause. “maybe ... maybe you’re a lucky man.”
therealcassporter·:
cassie paused a moment, eyes turning up from her lunch while her body stayed in pretty much the same position.
she grinned.
‘ well that’a be my lil’ secret. ‘ she mused, turning toward the doorway. ‘ it’s good.. ‘ shoulders shrugged. ‘ not green or blue or anythin’.. ‘
does minji trust it? ... no ... but a grilled cheese does sound nice. “thought you didn’t keep secrets from camp,” she struggles to say — because it is HYPOCRITICAL of her to say so. though she doesn’t feel bad about it. if faced with the question herself, minji gun will hide every and any secret. she will keep them in the shadows, keep them hidden in the hands of her ghosts. sighing, she rests the guitar against the doorframe before walking slowly to the other woman. “did you check the bread for mold, then?”
scdsoul·:
&& @arsmcriendis
there was a sense of comfort in minji gun ( in her own twisted way ) that tobio found. she’s not someone he’d ever find himself becoming the best of friends with, but tobio craved familiarity. so, when the two crossed paths again, he wanted to stick around. there was a very good chance he wouldn’t make it very long by himself, so if he was going to die, it might as well be around someone he knew— surely they’d have the decency to stop him from turning to a biter. he knew that his presence seemed to annoy her, so if he was around, he made sure to keep a distance and his mouth shut.
when he told her to go away, he felt he had no choice but to obey no matter how much it hurt his feelings. he’d made camp for the night just a bit away from the lionscrest manor. he’d hardly gotten any sleep ( it’s harder from him to relax when he’s just out in the woods, so vulnerable ). by the time the sun rose again, he found himself waiting, as if he knew minji was going to show up again.
the morning routine consisted of two things : eat breakfast on her lonesome and check the vehicle for today’s trip. one of these things, minji has perfected since the day she came to lionscrest — and the keys in her pocket made a rattling noise as she took her breakfast to where she usually spent the time until being called over. minji would rather not admit it but maybe, topher was right about the wilderness. it seems never ending from where she stands, where the manor stands ... and maybe, serenity can come to her in another form other than music ... only for it to be shattered, eyes catching the glimpse of a figure not far away from here. human, but is it alive?
slowly, she walks towards it with little to no apprehension. hostility coats her words upon recognition. “are you kidding me ... what are you doing here?” the day had just began and already, the boy is already getting on her nerves — ruining a day that she had saved for something else to ruin. “what about ‘ go away ’ do you not get?”
minji gun + social media ( 2/? )
therealcassporter·:
the soft clap of her flip flops came from the open kitchen, back and forth from the large refrigerator to the counter.
back and forth.
her lips puckered slightly as she began whistling a song about sunshine and rain.
she heard a sound from behind her, not sure who it was but confident enough that they weren’t coming for her neck.
‘ y’want a grill’ cheese or nah.. cause I’m makin’ a grill’ cheese. ‘
a hand curls on the neck of the worn out guitar that paid off her unrelenting search for the past two weeks, desperate to find any solace and calm in the midst of this hell state. she stops strumming, ears tuning in to listen to something other than music and the soft lull of her voice. slowly, minji stands up and carries the instrument with her to inspect what’s happening.
it’s the actress ... at least, that’s what minji can recall. a survivor whose net worth was of a larger sum than herself, for sure — nothing beats a career cut out of a video sharing platform than an actual career that’s seen on big screens. “no... that’s,” minji starts but it’s ... it’s grilled cheese, and her mouth is watering from the thought of food other than vegetable soup and plain bread. “where did you get the cheese from?”

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negligcnt·:
it isn’t that eloise tries to be rude, it is more so that she is SICK of being underestimated in a world where she has worked so hard to prove herself. only nineteen, having had everything & having lost it, eloise felt that she had earned her place amongst the survivors, that she had every right to be a proud, valued member of her camp, and yet there were still people who didn’t care- who DISCREDITED her with something as simple and as impactful as a glance. a glance exactly like the one minji was gifting her oh so g e n e r o u s l y. ❝ i suppose not, ❞ eloise cruelly replied, scrunching her nose as she began to bunch long, tangled tendrils in gloved palms, working an elastic band around the hair and securing it in a D I S A T E R O U S excuse of a ponytail. the hunter licks at her lips, tasting the bitterness of the other’s words as she almost threatens the younger, causing shoulders to rise up to her ears as each nerve in her body twitched : ❝ no need, YOU chased off my only decent kill. ❞ accusatory words sputtered from a disgruntled teen, who used long fingers to tug at the handle attached to the backdoor. eloise wanted to take her offer, accept the challenge, but her stamina had run dry and all she wanted to do now was SLEEP. ❝ i’m sure you would enjoy that… next time, ❞ promised the brunette with adverted eyes, ducking her figure down and into the back seat as she recklessly tossed her bow and arrow on the torn interior besides her, using all her remaining force to slam the vehicles door.
an intake of deep breath that leaves her body as a sigh. exhaustion makes itself known to her by taking on the physical body of a teenage girl and her problems : she takes this into account but minji is an aggressively passive woman — she's not a therapist and she refuses to make friends with the girl, even if that was her thing. she takes the hit, though ... minji knows it means nothing and it will do nothing. she's annoyed but minji finds herself back with the engine awaiting for the drive to the manor.
she thinks about it : death is a natural occurence that every living thing left on earth will have to go through. everyone thinks about dying ... and frankly, minji entertains the thought. a hint of a scowl on her lips at the sight of the girl sitting behind her ; finding her corpse in the filth of these woods, body ransacked for meat by biter hands and hard teeth would've been a more fun trip to make than another scavenger run for medical supplies.
"you have a bad attitude," minji mentions, foot on the gas as they make their way down the path. contentment sneaks up behind her at the idea of finally being able to rest, and her shoulders rise a little. "slam the doors like that and you'll break them." it's not as if they have the luxury to take car after car. there are a few left around boulder that is still functional, but she doesn't like change. "you can... uh, walk everywhere else starting tomorrow," minji blinks, inspecting the girl from the mirror. "since that’s more of your thing."
lcngley·:
minds are ticking things with complex gears and notches. buttons. cables. though perhaps when they made HER any form of color had run out. minji gun is a series of blacks and greys and reds. her wiring is difficult to decipher. does she understand EVERYTHING ? or perhaps she understands NOTHING. she understands nothing and wishes she did. he’s not sure. he’s a good reader – an excellent one – but there are people that seem to hold some degree of complexity. call her S P E C I A L, for all it’s worth. this complication that arises with her causes absolutely nothing in theo. he’s not threatened. he’s not UNEASY. she’s a driver for amal’s camp and amal likes him just fine. claire would defend him, too. queens against a foot soldier – no, nothing to fear. minji gun is more of an…indulgence.
his nails are scratching the dried blood off his skin. it’s DISGUSTING and he wishes for nothing more than water to cleanse it all away. he hates the mess. hates the clean up. hates discrepancies. the rogue was a loose end – now tied – and theo would not allow for more of those. today, it’s minji who witnessed it. tomorrow ? well, he’ll make damn sure there won’t be any room for tomorrows that involve mistakes. HE’S BETTER THAN THIS. the driver’s words make the scratching stop; theo clasps his hands together and leaves his eyes on the steering wheel. rigid, steady, s h a k e n. ❝ i don’t believe he was one of them. like i said, i only saw him once. ❞ not a complete lie, really. he sighs and leans back on the seat. ❝ how far away are we ? ❞
she’s unsure of how to go about it, though. extroverted is not a word that could describe her ; minji learns best by isolating herself among the shadows ... but she cannot rely on being a ghost without losing her footing with him — she is uncomfortable, yes, but minji is talking. if she wants to know him ( an idea that she is already regretting, seconds after having thought about it ) ... she has to talk, and how she dreads that. extroversion is an integral part of this goal that she has foolishly set up for herself.
yet another stolen glance and she finds herself easily relating to how he scratches at his skin — to remove it? “half hour,” she says and it’s ... not a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth. she side-eyes the intersection that they pass by, refusing a suggestion that would lessen that travel time. this is something that she, surprisingly, has found herself to half-care about. “give or take.” she slows down, coming up to a driveway of an empty and ransacked home. “here —” she has no desire to leave the vehicle, much less inspect shit. headlights on low, the click of unlocked doors. “ – you can clean up for a bit... don’t really want to have to explain why you’re covered in blood.”