#if there's someone that can save him emotionally that's her

[aztarion]

OC Deep Dive - Soledad

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

(Ignoring the obvious fire and sunlight here)

That she won’t be useful; that she’s been ruined for nothing.

The blood bond.

Diablerie — not as in being diablerized, but the act itself; of being manipulated into/tempted again; of not being able to stop/her bulimia triggering if she’s for whatever reason feeding from another kindred, something she tries very hard not to do.

Aila — that presence when it stirs.

It’s more “fear for”, but Julian, or specifically whatever he’s thinking when his eyes get that focused black gleam. She knows it like some dreaded visual cue: tunnel vision. It used to be cute, watching him prattle while they lay out on the trailer roof on the New Mexico border two hours before sunrise, but they’re not fledglings anymore — there are very real consequences now.

Her voraciousness — in physical and emotional hunger.

Rats.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People that don’t use their turn signal.

When strangers ask about her scar or tattoos right off the bat.

Getting blood on or washing blood out of her clothes — because she customizes everything and really does try to save them.

Minimalism.

Stock cars.

People who talk too fast. When Julian especially starts talking too fast.

When ANYONE adjusts absolutely anything in her car. However she will do just that to yours.

What are three items you can find in their bedroom?

I guess when she’s on the move she will always have:

Topaz and mahogany heirloom rosary

Matte black finish gun kit (+ nighthawk custom)

Emergency blood bag

really quick vibes...

What do they notice first in a person?

Physically, and in rapid succession, their put-togetherness, what they’re wearing, then eyes, then mouth. Appearance might get a second once-over to take everything in, maybe sense the Beast. Body language and demeanor. Power they exude. In some situations with kindred and in more situations with mortals, she might try to gauge how attractive they perceive her to be. Where their eyes fall; how interested and receptive they are. In kind, how open, honest, or easy their behavior is — if there’s a forced sincerity about it. Sol doesn’t have auspex but she is decently intuitive and can be manipulative. She’ll also analyze how they interact with other people — those they know or mutual strangers.

What she notices first after building a rapport with a stranger is loyalty. That’s the moment it sinks in that this is or could potentially be someone reliable or meaningful to her.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Physically: 7. Much tougher than a mortal obviously, and she can definitely take a beating, but she doesn’t have fortitude and can be a bit of a glass cannon in a straight fight against heavy hitters. If her insides are mostly outsides at some point, she will be screaming crying throwing up (literally if her derangement triggers which then probably kicks off a hunger Frenzy).

Mentally: 9 LOL. Sol’s resolve and composure are insanely high and she has such a weak, dissolving and deeply negative sense of self already… it would be difficult for someone to target her in that way and have any luck getting through to really hurt her. Which is a whole other issue 🤦‍♀️

Emotionally (aka if you are Julian, or her brother Tiago, or the presence of Aila; to a lesser extent Elena and Lettow): 4. Huge upset here is what’s most likely to pierce carapace, hit that soft underbelly. Sol definitely has got that desert fruit pulpy, nutty and horrifically messy centre underneath all the disconnect.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (Or freeze or fawn?)

It depends. Sol actually works well under pressure (again as long as it’s not her very specific brand of emotionally taxing trigger).

If she thinks she has a chance at getting through, or has no chance at all in a fight, she will fawn. It’s become insidiously intrinsic: whatever you need, whatever you want, I'll bend to any shape, don’t worry about me.

In an unavoidable outright hostile situation she’ll hold her ground and fight but be dirty about it. The nighthawk is pretty effective on mortals lol. With other kindred or when vastly outnumbered however… she’s not a tank but she’s slippery and her scorpion’s-touch-augmented-protean-claws hit like envenomated machetes. She can draw a whip from her vitae and create ugly little parasitic snakes made from spilled viscera. She will incapacitate, possibly fawn again if something can be worked out (Miss Second Chances To Her Detriment over here), and/then/or shoot to kill. Or die I suppose if she loses.

What animal represents them best?

Scorpions, snakes… specifically the species’ that are shyer, solitary and less aggressive, which in some cases those often have the strongest venom — very fitting for Sol. She can be a handle-carefully-and-don’t-push deal these nights.

It’s more out of symbolism but I really like the idea of the hummingbird for her too, in an “in another life/if things had went differently” kind of way (also the Sierra Vista connection — where she grew up). She was once naturally extroverted, poised, playful, dreamy, brave. Never stubborn or too headstrong, but at least less inclined to do what others wanted of her if she disagreed. Those traits have warped a lot, and she’s since got too-sharp teeth and corpse-skin that really is starting to feel a lot like carapace.

She knows she’s a monster, and she has complex views on that, but at the end of it all cannot detach from her conscience. Guilt eats her alive. I think Sol wants nothing else but to keep from what feels like the inevitable complete unhinging of her jaw.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Striking, quiet but restless beauty. You guys will have to forgive my art lol. She has soft hispanic/asian features, thick dark wavy hair, deep olive tan skin, long legs. A slow and alluring (but not provocative) way of speaking and moving.

Obnoxious tattoos, dark undereyes, and on closer inspection her gnarly jagged scar can often have a stranger furrowing their brow.

She maintains a poker face, is intentionally unexpressive, but there’s an unconscious sensuality about her.

Sad eyes, like they themselves are trying to tell you something that even she’s not aware of.

Very cautious and conscientious — an intuitive stranger might clock that the fawn fear response has become her natural state of existing.

Do they have any hobbies?

At home base, tuning her ride and probably Julian’s fleet if one is left around. She hates stock. I hc Elena will not let her near the Datsun though, that they share that don’t fucking touch anything in my car rage 😭

She has a pet project of fixing up an old BMW R80 G/S — the motorcycle model her dad drove back in the day. (give me the strength to finish the art i have of this pleaaasee)

She likes to make things out of scrap metal too — welding shit together into little tools, or just because she wanted to see or keep her hands busy. Loves customizing, recycling, retrofitting, renovating and restoring.

Honing her butchered version of blood sorcery. Sol dropped out of school and is not academically inclined, but she is tenacious and open-minded and very much a quick, kinetic learner with a good eye for detail. Julian fills her in on whatever important prep knowledge and research she needs from tomes for bigger rituals, but he is usually the one conducting those — Sol has no grand plans. Otherwise she experiments a lot with minor powers within both the blood sorcery and protean disciplines, and her own weird magic-melee amalgamation of them. Because I have to dual-spec or I'll die!!!!!

finally had time to finish this….thank you so much for the tag @diableriedoll ^^

i’ll tag @devilbrakers @gauntlings @silkenred @kibellah @vesperblood

@ustalav @auspex @lazareneblessing

@ruvviks @girlnextvore @baelavelaryon @dykeferatu and any oc perverts reading this because my mind goes blank everytime

[wellofdean]

Don't you think Cas should care and interact with Dean emotionally in The Trap? Dean's mother died only Days ago, and Cas thinks he should be over it already?

Well, uhm. Yes? But I don't think he can at that moment. He is in love with Dean, and Dean has shut the door on him hard, and done so exactly when he is weakest, because he is just as bereaved as Dean is. Both of them are suffering, and neither of them can meet the others' needs. It's not like one of them is being the asshole, and the other one is blameless.

Dean's mother notably referred to Cas as 'one of her boys' and Cas notably saved her from death after Dean's deal with Billie because they all mean too much to him, including Mary. Cas loved and lost Mary, too. Cas loved and lost Jack, whom Cas saw as their child. And, Cas feels like he has also lost Dean!

Why are Dean's grief and Dean's sub-optimal emotional responses in the face of grief more valid than Cas's? I can't put it better than @deangirlism101 in their tags on this post, so I am just going to share them here:

#🤔 it's interesting how differently that ''you couldn't forgive me'' line felt to me#idk if it's because I'm approaching that line with the context that narratively#at least to me#these two are for all intents and purposes#quite married#in my mind the divorce arc is genuinely A Divorce#it's not a breakup. it's not a fight. it is a ''irreconcilable differences'' divorce#and that's where I'm approaching my reading of cas in that scene#it's very much that pragmatic side of divorce#where one partner reaches a point of shutdown because they believe there is no longer any kind of conversation to be had#''you cannot forgive me and i am unable to be near you while unforgiven'' is not#in my perception#the same as ''i apologized and therefore i deserve forgiveness''#i read somewhere that a big warning sign of divorce is contempt#and in the episodes prior to cas leaving#that is all dean expressed toward cas to his face#literally#dean's panicked ’'where are you going?'' i.e. the first noncontemptuous thing dean says to cas all season#is said to his back!#it's not that cas is owed forgiveness#it's that cas NEEDS forgiveness to be able to remain In The Relationship#the way i interpret it#cas isn't ASKING for forgiveness. he is just saying he needs it to stay#which to me is a world of difference#it's not out of entitlement#which i think is important for the emotional context of the episode#and i think it's the beauty of the divorce arc being very much a depiction of Marital Strife#to me it feels like an excellent depiction of the way a healthy marriage is deeply entrenched in compromise and not keeping score#(which is not to say it's okay for cas to continue going off on his own and keeping secrets)

I agree hard with everything here. And, I also think it's not only a depiction of Marital Strife, but a depiction of marital strife after the loss of a child, which is a whole other level of understandable not coping.

They are both on the ropes, they are both emotionally compromised in ways they aren't able to overcome. They both have Things They Routinely Do that are not for the best -- Cas tries to solve everything alone and keeps secrets, and Dean masks all his vulnerable feelings with anger. I think they both forgive the other, but can't bridge the gap. I think it's possible to love and forgive someone, and not be able to be around them, and I think Cas and Dean are both doing their best, it's just that, under the circumstances, their best is not great.

And, this bears repeating: #to me it feels like an excellent depiction of the way a healthy marriage is deeply entrenched in compromise and not keeping score

Cas is not owed an apology, but the fact that Dean can give one? I love that FOR DEAN.

[gyu-tori]

Beneath the Bite | C.BG

Pairing: non-idol!beomgyu x fem!reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Apocalypse

Summary: In a world where the dead don’t stay dead, Beomgyu has mastered the art of survival—alone and emotionally guarded. But that changes when he discovers Y/N, there’s something different about her. She’s resourceful, determined, yet there's one problem that changes everything: she’s been bitten.

Bound by an uneasy alliance, the two navigate not only the dangers of the undead but the fragile trust growing between them. As Y/N tries to hold on to the last bit of humanity she has left, Beomgyu begins to question the walls he’s built around himself.

How far would you go to save someone who might already be lost? And in a world teetering on the edge of ruin, can hope survive alongside love?

Warnings: zombie apocalypse, survival, blood, injuries/wounds, zombies, gore, descriptions of killing, let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 13k

The fluorescent lights of the abandoned hospital flickered, casting eerie shadows across the desolate corridors. Beomgyu moved through the hallways with practiced stealth, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a makeshift weapon gripped tightly in his hand. His breathing was shallow, each step careful to avoid the debris scattered across the cracked and bloodied tiled floor. The world had fallen into chaos, and this hospital, like so many other remnants of civilization, had become a graveyard—a silent monument to what once was.

Months of survival had stripped away Beomgyu’s optimism, leaving behind a man hardened by loss and desperation. His sharp eyes scanned every corner, his ears tuned to the faintest noise. He’d learned to live moment by moment, scavenging for supplies and avoiding the ravenous undead that now outnumbered the living. His mind was a steel trap, blocking out memories of his family and the life he’d once known. To dwell on the past was to invite death.

The hospital, eerily silent, held an unspoken threat. Every room was a gamble—empty or infested. Beomgyu moved with precision, his steps muted by his worn sneakers. The familiar weight of his crowbar brought him some semblance of comfort, though he knew it would only be useful against a few of the creatures at best. The undead didn’t tire, didn’t hesitate, and didn’t feel fear. A mistake here would cost him everything.

As he pushed open the door to the hospital’s pharmacy, the stench of decay hit him like a wall. Shelves were overturned, their contents long looted, leaving behind a wasteland of shattered glass and torn packaging. Beomgyu covered his nose with his sleeve, his stomach churning at the rancid smell. 

He crouched down, sifting through the debris. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, brushing aside broken vials and expired medications in search of anything useful. Just as he found a small stash of unopened bandages and a bottle of antibiotics tucked behind a counter, a faint sound stopped him in his tracks.

A cry of pain.

Beomgyu froze, his muscles tensing as adrenaline surged through his veins. The sound was faint, almost drowned out by the distant groans of the undead outside. His grip tightened on his crowbar as his eyes darted toward the door. He strained his ears, heart pounding, as the sound came again—a low, guttural moan mixed with the unmistakable note of human suffering. 

Against his better judgment, he stood and crept toward the source of the noise. The hospital was a maze, its once orderly layout now a chaotic ruin of overturned furniture and shattered glass. He kept his footsteps light, his weapon raised, as he followed the sound down a dimly lit hallway.

The noise led him to a room near the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, the flickering light casting distorted shadows across the floor. Beomgyu hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. He’d learned the hard way that curiosity in this world often led to death. But something about the sound tugged at him—a reminder of the humanity he’d buried deep within himself.

He pushed the door open slowly, his breath hitching as he stepped inside.

Y/N sat slumped against the wall of a makeshift shelter she’d crafted from hospital curtains and overturned furniture. Her arm throbbed with pain, the crude bandage she’d wrapped around her bite wound soaked through with blood and pus. She’d been hiding here for days, fighting off the infection with whatever scraps of medication she could find. But it was a losing battle.

Her body burned with fever, her vision swimming as she struggled to stay conscious. Her hands trembled as she clutched a piece of metal piping, the only weapon she had left. She’d heard the moans outside the room, the shuffle of feet, and now footsteps—steady and purposeful—approaching her hiding spot. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, they weren’t stopping.

The door creaked open, and Y/N’s grip on the pipe tightened. “Stay back!” she croaked, her voice hoarse from dehydration and disuse.

A man stepped into the room, his silhouette sharp against the flickering light. His eyes, dark and calculating, scanned the room before settling on her. He looked like he belonged in this world—worn clothes, a weapon at the ready, and a demeanor that screamed survival. But he wasn’t undead, and for that, Y/N felt a small flicker of relief, quickly drowned out by suspicion.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice low but steady. He took a cautious step forward, raising his free hand in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “Let me help.”

Y/N pressed herself harder against the wall, the effort sending a wave of pain through her injured arm. “I don’t need your help,” she hissed, her tone defiant despite the weakness in her body. “I’m fine.”

The man’s gaze flicked to the bandage on her arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t look fine.”

“I said I can handle it!” she snapped, her voice cracking. But as she tried to raise the pipe higher, her strength gave out. The makeshift weapon clattered to the floor, and she slumped forward, barely catching herself before hitting the ground.

The man hesitated, his own instincts warring within him. He could walk away. Leave her to her fate. It wasn’t his problem—nothing in this world was anymore. But as he looked at her, pale and drenched in sweat, something inside him softened. Against his better judgment, he crouched down, keeping a safe distance.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice gentler now. “But if you don’t treat that wound, you won’t last much longer.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with mistrust, but she was too weak to argue. After a long pause, she gave a small, reluctant nod, her head dipping forward in exhaustion. The man moved closer, his movements deliberate as he reached for her arm. He worked quickly, unwrapping the bandage to inspect the wound beneath.

His expression darkened at the sight of the bite mark. It was deep, the edges inflamed and oozing. He’d seen this before. He knew what it meant. But he didn’t say anything, his mind already racing for a way to help her.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he reached into his bag for supplies.

“Y/N,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “And you?”

“Beomgyu,” he replied, pulling out a small bottle of antiseptic. “This is going to hurt.”

Y/N let out a weak laugh, the sound hollow. “It already does.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, though it quickly faded as he focused on cleaning the wound. Y/N flinched, biting back a cry of pain as the antiseptic burned against her skin. Beomgyu worked quickly but carefully, his hands steady despite the chaos around them.

As he finished rewrapping the bandage, he sat back on his heels, meeting her gaze. “You’re lucky I found you,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “This place isn’t safe.”

“No place is,” Y/N replied, her voice stronger now but still tinged with exhaustion. “But thanks.”

Beomgyu nodded, rising to his feet. He offered her a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it. Her grip was weak, but there was a spark of determination in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Let’s get out of here,” Beomgyu said, his voice firm. “Together.”

For the first time in days, Y/N allowed herself to hope.

The hospital walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick with the stench of decay and despair. Beomgyu and Y/N moved cautiously through the hallways, their steps echoing in the oppressive silence. Beomgyu took the lead, his crowbar at the ready, while Y/N followed close behind, clutching her injured arm. The fever had sapped her strength, but she refused to slow them down.

They paused at a junction where the corridor split into two directions. Beomgyu held up a hand, signaling for Y/N to stop. He tilted his head, listening intently for any signs of danger. The distant groans of the undead were ever-present, a haunting reminder that they were never truly safe.

“This way,” Beomgyu whispered, pointing to the left. He glanced back at Y/N, noting the paleness of her face and the sheen of sweat on her brow. “Can you keep up?”

Y/N nodded, though her legs felt like lead. “I’ll manage.”

They pressed on, weaving through the debris-strewn corridors. Beomgyu’s eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings, his grip on the crowbar firm. Y/N couldn’t help but admire his focus and determination. He moved with the precision of someone who’d survived countless encounters with the undead, each step purposeful and calculated.

“How long have you been on your own?” Y/N asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Beomgyu glanced at her, his expression guarded. “Long enough,” he said simply. 

Y/N frowned but didn’t press further. She understood the need to keep certain things buried. In this world, memories were often more painful than comforting.

They reached a stairwell, the metal steps leading both up and down. Beomgyu hesitated, weighing their options. “The roof might give us a clear view of the area,” he said. “But it’s a risk. Zombies could be up there too.”

“And downstairs?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Could lead to an exit,” Beomgyu replied. “Or a dead end.”

Y/N leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “You decide. I’ll follow.”

Beomgyu studied her for a moment, then nodded. “We go up. If it’s clear, we can rest for a bit.”

They ascended the stairs, each step creaking under their weight. The tension was palpable, every sound amplified in the oppressive silence. Beomgyu reached the top first, pausing to listen before cautiously pushing open the door. The rooftop was empty, bathed in the pale light of the setting sun. 

“It’s clear,” he said, holding the door open for Y/N. She stepped out onto the roof, her breath hitching at the sight of the ruined city stretching out before them. Buildings stood in various states of collapse, their skeletal remains silhouetted against the fiery sky. Smoke rose in thin columns from scattered fires, and the distant moans of the undead carried on the wind.

Y/N sank to the ground, her back against the low wall surrounding the rooftop. Beomgyu joined her, setting his crowbar aside as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a water bottle, handing it to her without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a grateful sip. The water was lukewarm, but it was a welcome relief against the dryness in her throat.

Beomgyu leaned back, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “What were you doing in the hospital?” he asked after a long silence.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the water bottle. “I got separated from my group,” she said finally. “We were scavenging for supplies when we got ambushed by a horde. I ended up here, hoping to find something to help with this.” She gestured to her bandaged arm.

Beomgyu’s jaw tightened. “And the bite?”

“Happened during the ambush,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to keep it from spreading, but…” She trailed off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears but she quickly blinked them away. Her survival instinct had long since overtaken any remnants of vulnerability, but the reality of her situation was starting to sink in. 

Beomgyu watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached into his bag again and pulled out a small, battered notebook. It was clear from the wear that it had been used frequently, though its pages were mostly blank. He flipped it open to a page with a few hastily scribbled notes. 

“I’ve been on my own for a while too,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing the faded ink. “The first few days, it was just panic. Trying to find my family, trying to understand what happened. I’ve lost a lot since then.” His voice caught slightly, but he quickly masked it with a tight exhale. “But... there’s always this small part of me that keeps thinking if I just push a little harder, if I just survive a little longer, I’ll find something worth holding onto.”

Y/N turned her head toward him, the weight of his words sinking in. It was something she understood all too well—the constant pushing forward, driven by the hope of a future that didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“I know the feeling,” she murmured, taking another slow sip of water. “I keep telling myself that if I just survive, if I just make it through today, maybe tomorrow will be better. But... I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen.” Her gaze dropped to the bandaged wound on her arm. “Sometimes, it feels like it’s already over.”

There was a long silence as the city stretched out before them, silent except for the occasional moan of the undead and the distant sounds of fires crackling. Beomgyu remained still, deep in thought, but his mind was far from the immediate danger surrounding them. The words shared between them felt heavier than the building tension in the air. 

Y/N’s hand trembled slightly as she placed the empty water bottle on the ground beside her. “What if... we don’t make it out of here?” she asked, the question heavy with unspoken fear.

Beomgyu’s eyes softened as he turned to face her, the weight of the question sitting between them. “Then at least we’ll have each other’s backs until the end,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with a rare, unspoken promise. “Maybe that's enough.”

Y/N blinked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. In a world where trust was a luxury most couldn’t afford, the offer of even the smallest measure of support felt like an unexpected lifeline.

She nodded, though her throat tightened at the thought. They were both out here for different reasons, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Survival had become a shared goal. And for now, it was enough to know that they didn’t have to face it alone.

The sound of shuffling feet below broke their reverie, and both of them stood up in an instant, ready to face whatever new threat might appear. Beomgyu gripped his crowbar tightly, scanning the horizon for signs of movement. Y/N’s hand instinctively went to the pipe by her side, her muscles aching with the effort but her resolve unbroken.

“Get ready,” Beomgyu whispered, his voice calm but urgent. “We don’t know how many are out there, but we’ll need to move fast.”

Y/N nodded, pushing herself to her feet despite the dizziness threatening to overtake her. She didn’t have much strength left, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her. She wasn’t going to be the one to slow them down.

The two of them moved cautiously to the edge of the roof, watching as a small group of undead shuffled aimlessly through the street below. It wasn’t a horde, but they were numerous enough to pose a threat if they drew attention. Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed as he assessed their options. 

“We need to find another way down,” he muttered, scanning the area. “Too risky to go through them.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. “There’s a fire escape on the side of the building. It’s not ideal, but it’ll get us down without alerting them.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flicked over to her, his gaze calculating. “You sure?”

Y/N gave a small nod, though the tremor in her hands betrayed her uncertainty. “We don’t have much time. If we wait here too long, we’ll attract more.”

With a shared look, the decision was made. They both moved toward the edge of the roof, crouching low to avoid detection. As they reached the ledge, Beomgyu carefully lifted the fire escape ladder, testing its weight to ensure it would hold. Y/N hesitated for only a moment before climbing down after him, her injured arm flaring with pain but ignored in the rush of adrenaline.

The moment they reached the bottom of the ladder, the silence shattered as the first of the undead moaned loudly from above. It was a warning that they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“Let’s go,” Beomgyu hissed, motioning for Y/N to follow as he darted into the alley.

They sprinted through the dimly lit streets, their footsteps barely audible over the noise of distant shuffling. Every corner was a potential trap, every shadow could hide an enemy. The world had become a labyrinth of danger, and every step felt like a gamble.

Y/N felt the strain of exhaustion pulling at her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the sound of Beomgyu’s footsteps ahead. They moved as one, two survivors clinging to the hope that they could escape the nightmare that had consumed their world.

For now, that hope was enough.

The world was an endless expanse of decay, and every corner they turned seemed to offer only more ruin. The distant groans of the undead echoed through the streets, a constant reminder that nowhere was truly safe anymore. Beomgyu led the way, his footsteps light but determined as he navigated the crumbling cityscape. Y/N followed closely behind, her breath ragged, but her resolve unwavering.

They had been running for what felt like hours, weaving through alleyways and abandoned buildings, always listening for the telltale shuffle of approaching undead feet. The fire escape had provided a temporary reprieve, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before they ran into more danger. The constant pressure was like a weight on their chests, never allowing them to breathe easy.

But in these moments of relentless survival, small victories meant everything.

Y/N’s injured arm throbbed with each movement, and the fever burning inside her was becoming more unbearable with every passing minute. Her body was losing the fight to the infection, but she refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t just her life at stake anymore. Beomgyu had become an unexpected companion in a world where trust was a dangerous luxury, and that bond—fragile as it was—meant survival.

She glanced at him as they paused for a moment in the shelter of an old, collapsed storefront. He was scanning the area, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion lining his face. Beomgyu had been the one to keep them moving, always a step ahead, always focused. His ability to remain calm in the face of danger was something she envied. But there were cracks in his armor, moments where his steely exterior faltered. She’d seen it when he looked at her bandaged arm, and she’d caught the fleeting flash of regret in his eyes when he’d taken the water bottle from his bag and handed it to her without a word.

She knew he wasn’t invincible. Neither of them were.

“Do you think we’re getting any closer to a safe zone?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned against the remnants of a brick wall.

Beomgyu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow breath and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes distant as he stared down the alleyway ahead of them.

“It’s hard to say,” he finally said, his voice low. “The whole city’s been overrun. There’s no telling where you might find a safe place anymore. Most of the military zones have fallen, too. I heard a rumor once that a group of survivors managed to hold out at a high school on the other side of the city, but... that was months ago. Who knows what’s left?”

Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of the military zones. She’d heard the stories too—how the government forces had initially tried to contain the outbreak, but eventually, they’d been overwhelmed. There was no hope left in those places now, just memories of a world that once felt like it could be saved.

“We keep moving,” Beomgyu added after a long pause, shaking off the thought. “At least we’re alive for now. That’s enough.”

Y/N nodded, though the exhaustion gnawing at her body made it hard to keep her focus. Her head felt fuzzy, her vision wavering at the edges. The fever was beginning to cloud her thoughts, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she could no longer ignore the infection eating at her. She just needed to survive long enough to get somewhere safe... wherever that was.

"Let’s go," Beomgyu said, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. "We’ve still got a ways to go before we can find cover for the night."

With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself off the wall and followed him once more into the abandoned streets. They passed through another alleyway, the shadows growing deeper with each step. Every creak of a broken window, every distant thud sent her heart racing. The fear of being discovered was constant, gnawing at her every step.

Beomgyu led them through another series of alleys, his sharp gaze scanning the rooftops and windows as they moved. They came to another intersection, and he paused, raising his hand. His eyes flicked left and right, searching for movement.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice tense.

Y/N did as he instructed, staying just a few steps behind him, her hand tight around the metal pipe. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest. Every sound, every creak and groan felt like a threat, like the world was conspiring to tear them apart.

Beomgyu’s sharp eyes darted to the left, and his posture stiffened.

“They’re close,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward the sound. Through a broken window across the street, she could make out the silhouettes of a small group of the undead moving slowly, aimlessly, through the rubble-strewn street. They were close—too close.

Beomgyu gestured to the right, motioning for Y/N to follow him. They both slipped into a nearby doorway, their bodies pressed against the cold stone of the building. The undead were barely thirty feet away, unaware of their presence.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she held perfectly still. She could hear the rasping breath of one of the creatures, the groans as it shuffled aimlessly past them. It was like a nightmare, the way the monsters just wandered, unaware of the world around them. Every step felt like a ticking clock. It was only a matter of time before they noticed something amiss, and when they did...

Her mind raced. They couldn’t afford to be spotted. They couldn’t risk a fight with this many.

Beomgyu looked at her, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he raised his finger to his lips in a silent command for her to stay quiet. She nodded imperceptibly, then turned her attention back to the group of undead.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the creatures drifted past without so much as a glance in their direction. Beomgyu exhaled slowly, his posture relaxing just a fraction.

“Let’s move,” he whispered, stepping out of the doorway cautiously.

They continued, more cautiously now, slipping through the deserted streets. The sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long, skeletal shadows across the landscape. The air was thick with dust, and the distant hum of the undead was never far behind. Each step was a risk, but they didn’t have a choice. They had to keep moving.

After what felt like hours of walking, they came upon an abandoned store. Beomgyu motioned for Y/N to follow him inside. The shelves were bare, but the place offered shelter. A few broken windows let in the fading light, but it would do.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” Beomgyu said as he dropped his bag by a corner and began to scan the room for anything useful. “We need rest.”

Y/N nodded but didn’t sit down. Her legs felt like lead, and the pain in her arm had become a dull throb, but there was no time to rest. She needed to keep her guard up, needed to make sure they were safe before allowing herself the luxury of sleep.

Beomgyu noticed her hesitation and gave her a look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Sit down. I’ll keep watch.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. She was too tired, too weak to argue. With a small, resigned sigh, she slid down against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly, closing her eyes for just a moment. "For everything."

Beomgyu didn’t answer, but she could feel his gaze on her. His silence was enough.

The night was their only reprieve in a world that never stopped hunting.

The faint sounds of the world outside seemed to grow distant, as though the city itself was slipping into an eerie silence. For a moment, the only thing that remained was the sound of Beomgyu’s steady breathing and the soft rustle of Y/N’s clothes as she adjusted her position against the wall. Her body ached, and the fever burned like fire from within, but she forced herself to focus on the here and now. Her survival instinct was the only thing keeping her tethered to this crumbling world.

It felt strange, sitting in the stillness of the store. For so long, her days had been defined by constant motion—by the pursuit of food, shelter, safety—anything that could prolong her life just a little bit longer. Now, with nothing to do but wait, it was as though time itself had slowed. A dangerous kind of stillness, one that could only mean one thing: They weren’t safe, not truly, not yet. But exhaustion was creeping into her bones, and no matter how hard she tried to stay alert, her body betrayed her.

She glanced over at Beomgyu, who was seated at the far end of the room, his back against the wall as he surveyed the room with a look of quiet vigilance. His eyes flicked to every corner, every shadow, his focus razor-sharp despite the fatigue written all over him. His crowbar rested against the floor next to him, his fingers occasionally tapping the handle in a rhythmic, almost absent-minded way.

"How long do you think we'll stay here?" Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse from the strain of the day.

Beomgyu’s gaze shifted slightly to her, and for a moment, the hardness in his eyes softened. "We leave before morning," he replied, his voice low but resolute. "We can’t afford to stay in one place too long."

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting to the cracked window that let in the last of the fading sunlight. Night was creeping in, and soon they would be submerged in complete darkness, with only the sounds of the undead to keep them company.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting,” she said, forcing herself to speak through the growing fog in her mind. "But I need a moment…"

Beomgyu didn’t respond at first. He just continued watching her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a slight nod, a rare gesture of understanding that made her heart skip. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to feel a quiet comfort settle over her.

She leaned her head back against the wall, letting her eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, too tired to keep them open. For the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself the luxury of rest. Even so, her mind remained alert, always calculating, always prepared for the worst.

Minutes passed. Or was it hours? Time seemed irrelevant in a world like this. The shadows shifted, deepening as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the pale light of a dying world. The noise outside was still there—faint moans in the distance, shuffling footsteps. But it was far off, at least for now. They were safe, at least for the moment.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling footsteps broke her fleeting peace. Beomgyu was on his feet in an instant, his body tense, his hand gripping the crowbar with practiced ease. His eyes darted to the door, alert, listening.

Y/N’s pulse quickened. She rose to her feet with a grimace, pain shooting through her injured arm, but she held back a gasp. Every part of her wanted to rest, to ignore the world outside, but the reality of their situation couldn’t be ignored.

Beomgyu motioned for her to stay quiet as he moved toward the door, crouching low as he peered through the cracks in the old wooden panels. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, her breath shallow as she held her position. Her eyes searched the room, but all she could focus on was the sound—the unmistakable shuffle of undead, growing closer.

Minutes stretched out before Beomgyu slowly withdrew from the door, signaling for Y/N to remain still. His face was set, his jaw clenched. He looked back at her, his eyes sharp.

“They’re close,” he whispered. “We’re not alone in this building anymore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. They hadn’t come all this way just to be cornered now. The shadows in the room felt heavier, and the stillness only made the threat more palpable.

"We can’t fight them here," Beomgyu continued, his voice low but firm. "We need to get out. Now."

His words jolted her into action. Y/N nodded quickly, pain flooding through her as she grabbed her weapon—the metal pipe—and moved toward the back exit with Beomgyu in tow. They had no time to waste.

But as they turned the corner to make their way to the back, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of low, guttural growls. The undead had found their way in.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. She could hear the scrabble of their feet against the floor, the sickening sounds of their teeth gnashing. She had to focus. They couldn’t let themselves be trapped again.

“Through here!” Beomgyu barked, pointing toward the back exit that led into a narrow alley. He didn’t wait for her to respond, already sprinting toward the door. Y/N followed, pushing through the pain in her arm, willing herself to keep up.

Just as Beomgyu reached the door, it suddenly crashed open, and the first of the undead spilled into the room.

“Go!” Beomgyu shouted, barely turning his head as he swung his crowbar, knocking the creature back into the pile of its companions.

Y/N sprinted toward the exit, ignoring the burning in her legs, the weight of her injury. She had to get out of there. The sounds of pursuit were getting louder—she could hear the shuffle of footsteps, the sickening moans, but there was no time to stop. She couldn’t afford to look back.

They spilled into the alley, the city streets stretching out before them, darkened by the encroaching night. Beomgyu kept a sharp eye on the surroundings as they ran, pushing her ahead of him, making sure she didn’t fall behind. She was struggling now, her strength slipping away, but she refused to stop. She couldn’t. Not when they were so close to escaping.

Behind them, the undead were closing in, the shuffle of their feet a constant reminder of how much danger they were still in. But the alley was narrow, and the buildings crowded together, creating shadows that could offer them a momentary reprieve.

Beomgyu’s voice broke through the pounding of her heart, sharp and urgent. “This way!” He turned sharply, heading toward a set of crumbling stairs that led to a rooftop access.

Y/N’s mind was barely keeping up as they ascended, her legs threatening to give out with each step. But the urgency in Beomgyu’s movements kept her going. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

As they reached the top, Beomgyu gestured toward a large metal door. “We can secure this—at least for a while,” he said, panting.

Y/N nodded, stumbling forward. She was barely able to focus, her vision blurring, but her determination remained unwavering. She just needed to rest. Just for a moment.

Beomgyu was already securing the door, blocking their only way out with whatever he could find. The noise of the undead grew faint, and for a fleeting moment, Y/N felt something close to safety again.

She collapsed onto the ground near the edge of the roof, finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been clawing at her for hours. The sky above them was dark, but the city below was alive with danger. Still, for a brief, precious moment, they had found a sliver of peace.

Beomgyu crouched down beside her, watching her carefully. His face was tense, but there was something softer in his eyes now.

“We’ll make it through this,” he said, his voice steady.

Y/N nodded, even as she felt the fever burn hotter in her veins. She didn’t know what the next day would bring—if they’d make it out of the city alive or if their fight would come to an end here.

But for now, she was alive. And that was all she could hold onto.

The cold night air was a harsh contrast to the feverish heat coursing through Y/N’s body. She could feel the sweat on her brow as the wind tousled her hair, and the sudden chill made her shiver despite her exhaustion. The rooftop offered them a temporary haven, but it also felt like a precarious perch—like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall could come at any moment.

Beomgyu paced back and forth, his figure silhouetted against the city’s dim skyline. His eyes scanned every movement in the shadows, every flicker of light that passed beneath their vantage point. The tension in his posture never eased, as if he was always expecting something to go wrong. Y/N could sense it too—the constant, gnawing anxiety that something worse could be lurking just around the corner.

She had to fight to stay awake. Her limbs felt heavy, like weights attached to her body, and the dizziness kept threatening to pull her under. Every breath was a struggle, each inhale sharp with the sting of pain. Her arm, the bite wound, was burning, feverish, the skin around it hot and swollen. She hadn’t been able to tell Beomgyu the truth about how far the infection had spread. He was trying to help her, but there was only so much he could do.

Beomgyu stopped pacing and crouched next to her, his eyes softening as he watched her struggle to stay upright.

"Hey," he said gently, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You need to rest. We’ll keep watch, but you have to take care of yourself. If that infection gets worse..." His words trailed off, but they didn’t need to be said. They both knew what would happen.

Y/N shook her head weakly. "I’m fine. I can keep going. We need to stay moving."

"Resting doesn't mean you're giving up," Beomgyu countered, his voice firm, yet there was something in it—something that spoke of a quiet understanding. "You can’t help anyone if you’re dead on your feet."

She met his gaze for a long moment. There was no argument in his eyes—only that steady, silent insistence that she take care of herself. She wanted to protest, to argue that they needed to move now while they still had the advantage of surprise, but the exhaustion was overwhelming. The fight drained out of her, leaving only the raw need for rest.

She nodded finally, leaning back against the cold stone of the rooftop wall. Beomgyu moved away, continuing to keep watch, but now at least Y/N felt the weight of the world ease, just a little. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the uncomfortable throbbing in her arm, the heat of the fever. She tried to focus on the sound of the wind, the distant groans of the undead below, but her mind kept wandering to places she didn’t want to go.

Her family. Her old life. She had to push it all away.

But it was impossible.

A sharp pain cut through her thoughts, and she winced, her breath catching in her throat. She had never felt so vulnerable—so alone.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the images, trying to force herself into a deep sleep. But it was no use.

The hours dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The night was still, but the air was thick with the tension of uncertainty. Beomgyu was still vigilant, but his movements had slowed, and Y/N could tell the fatigue was starting to take its toll on him too. His eyes were darker, clouded with something deeper than just exhaustion—something she had come to recognize in survivors. It was the silent weight of everything they had lost, the things they had done, the choices they had made.

She could feel the change in him. He wasn’t just a man surviving; he was a man shaped by the world they were living in—a world that had stripped away everything but the will to survive. She could see it in the way he moved, the way he responded to every sound and shadow, like a hunter tracking his prey, even when there was nothing to hunt.

And it terrified her.

Still, the exhaustion dragged her down. Despite her best efforts to stay alert, to stay on guard, the world around her began to blur and fade.

Beomgyu didn’t look at her as she slipped into sleep—he knew better. There was no need to watch her, no need to ask her how she was. He knew what the infection meant. He had seen it before.

But he couldn't help it—he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. Y/N had been so strong, so defiant, and yet now, she was becoming quieter, slower. Each hour that passed seemed to drain her of more life, until she was barely a shadow of the woman he had met hours ago.

Still, he watched her for a long time, torn between the brutal truth and the desperate hope that somehow, she would pull through.

Y/N awoke to the feeling of something soft against her forehead. At first, she thought it was the wind. But as she stirred, she felt Beomgyu’s cool fingers brushing the sweat from her brow. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and for a moment, she wondered if this was all some kind of dream.

When she opened her eyes, he was crouched beside her, his expression unreadable.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

Her throat was dry, but she tried to swallow, her voice coming out cracked. “I’m... I’m alright.”

Beomgyu studied her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her bandaged arm. The wound had become worse in the few hours that they had been resting—she could tell by the way his jaw clenched when he glanced at it.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For slowing us down."

He shook his head quickly. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re not slowing us down. We’re in this together.”

There it was again—the unspoken bond between them. A strange, fragile connection formed not by words, but by necessity. In this new world, alliances weren’t born from trust. They were born from survival.

Beomgyu stood up, his posture still tense, but there was a softness in the way he looked at her—like he was trying to decide if it was time to say the things that needed to be said.

“I think it’s time to move,” he said, after a long pause. “We can’t stay here much longer. But we can’t head back the way we came either. There’s a secondary exit in this building. It leads out toward the outskirts of the city.”

Y/N nodded slowly, the fog of sleep still clouding her mind. "Alright."

She didn’t have the energy to argue, not with the exhaustion that weighed on her, not with the knowledge that there was no safe place anymore. The world had become a cruel game, where survival meant never resting, never letting your guard down.

She slowly pulled herself to her feet, Beomgyu offering his hand to help steady her. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she pushed through it.

They had no choice but to keep going.

The descent from the rooftop was swift but cautious. Every step they took brought them closer to the unknown, to whatever awaited them in the darkened streets below. As they navigated through the narrow alleys and abandoned streets, the sounds of the undead grew fainter, as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

For the first time since they’d met, Y/N allowed herself to look at Beomgyu with a bit more clarity. Despite the harshness of the world, despite the bleakness that surrounded them, there was a steady resolve in his actions that made her believe, just for a moment, that there might be something worth fighting for. Something beyond the next meal or the next step.

They had each other.

And maybe that was enough.

The city stretched out before them like a labyrinth of destruction, a silent witness to the horrors of the world. Buildings loomed like skeletal remains, casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. The streets were littered with debris—shattered glass, abandoned vehicles, signs of life long gone. 

Beomgyu led the way, his movements sharp and deliberate, while Y/N stumbled slightly behind him. The fever had taken a heavier toll on her since they left the rooftop, her head spinning with each step. She felt like her body was betraying her—her legs were heavy, her mind clouded by exhaustion. She clenched her jaw, refusing to show weakness. She couldn’t afford to. 

They reached the back entrance of the hospital, a side door barely hanging on its hinges. Beomgyu motioned for Y/N to wait as he carefully nudged the door open, peering into the hallway beyond. It was dark, the dim glow from flickering emergency lights casting unsettling shadows on the walls. 

“Clear,” Beomgyu whispered, stepping inside. Y/N followed closely, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor. 

The air inside smelled stale, like death and decay. The walls were cracked and peeling, remnants of a once functioning hospital now reduced to a crumbling shell. The silence was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant moans of the undead somewhere outside, drifting through the broken windows.

They moved quickly, navigating through the building with practiced precision. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, always alert. Y/N tried to focus, but the dizziness was overwhelming. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. Her body was starting to fail her.

After a few minutes of winding through empty halls, Beomgyu stopped at a door marked “Stairs.” He opened it cautiously, glancing up and down the stairwell. 

“Down,” he said. “We’ll get out through the basement.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Her mind felt heavy, and the faint ringing in her ears made it difficult to concentrate. She wanted to protest, wanted to suggest another route, but she knew better. There was no time to argue. She pushed forward, forcing her legs to move, each step feeling like a mountain to climb.

Beomgyu led them down the stairs quickly but quietly. The basement was supposed to be an exit, but it was also a place of danger. The shadows here were darker, the air thick with dust and dampness. The faint glow from Beomgyu’s flashlight barely illuminated the path ahead, casting eerie shapes across the walls.

Y/N’s breath quickened as they reached the bottom. The walls here were lined with storage shelves, some toppled over, others empty. The floor was scattered with broken crates and debris, remnants of the hospital’s past.

“We need to move fast,” Beomgyu whispered. “There’s a service tunnel just ahead.”

They made their way deeper into the basement, the space growing colder with each step. Y/N’s mind was becoming foggier, her body losing its grip on reality. She could barely keep her feet beneath her, her vision swimming in and out of focus. The wound on her arm throbbed, sending waves of heat through her body.

“Beomgyu...” she said faintly, her voice barely audible.

He stopped, turning to face her. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I don’t feel so good,” she muttered, her voice slurring slightly. “I can’t... I can’t keep up.”

Beomgyu’s heart sank as he saw the distress in her eyes. Her condition was worsening, faster than he had anticipated. She had been so strong before, so determined. But now, she looked like she might collapse at any moment.

He moved toward her, his face softening as he reached for her arm. “Hey, we’re almost there,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone. Just a little further.”

Y/N shook her head weakly. “I don’t know if I can make it.”

“You’re going to make it,” Beomgyu insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not after everything they had been through. “We’ll make it out together. I won’t leave you.”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. She could see the resolve in his face, but she couldn’t help the doubt creeping into her own heart. She was tired—so tired—and the infection was spreading faster than she had expected. Her vision blurred again, and her knees buckled beneath her.

Beomgyu caught her before she hit the ground, his grip tight as he lifted her up. His heart was racing now, his mind spinning with the possibilities. He knew the risks, knew the chances of survival were slim if they didn’t move quickly. But he couldn’t let her go—not like this.

“Come on,” he urged, his voice a soft command. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Y/N’s head lolled against his chest as he supported her weight. She was barely conscious, her breath shallow, and he could feel the heat radiating from her body. The infection had taken hold, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He could only keep moving.

They reached the service tunnel after what felt like an eternity, and Beomgyu pushed open the heavy metal door using his body with a grunt. The tunnel was narrow and damp, the air heavy with the smell of mildew and decay. It stretched into darkness, an unknown path toward freedom—or death.

“We’re almost there,” Beomgyu said again, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself. 

He moved quickly through the tunnel, his footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. Y/N’s breath was growing more labored, and he could feel her body growing heavier in his arms. The tunnel felt endless, the air oppressive, as though the walls themselves were closing in on them.

Suddenly, a noise from ahead made Beomgyu stop dead in his tracks. His grip tightened around Y/N  as he slowly turned to face the darkness ahead. The distant shuffle of feet reached his ears, the unmistakable sound of the undead closing in on them.

Beomgyu’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure how many of them there were, but there was no time to waste. He had to keep moving.

"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, his voice fierce.

But there was no response. When he looked at her, Y/N was barely conscious, her head hanging limply from his shoulder. Her body was growing cold, her breathing shallow and uneven. Beomgyu’s blood ran cold as he realized just how close they were to the brink.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice desperate. “Not now. Not like this.”

He scanned the tunnel ahead, his mind racing for a plan. He couldn’t fight them all. There was no way they would survive another encounter with the undead in their current state. But he had to get her out—he had to keep moving.

Without another thought, Beomgyu began to run, his legs burning with the effort. He moved through the tunnel as fast as he could, the sound of the undead growing louder with each passing second. They were closing in.

Finally, the tunnel opened up into a small utility room, its door cracked open just enough to slip through. Beomgyu wasted no time, pushing the door open and stumbling into the room. He found himself in a dimly lit alleyway, the city streets stretched out before them. 

But even as he stepped into the open air, he could hear the shuffling footsteps behind them, drawing closer. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep running.

Beomgyu’s heart thudded in his chest, each beat a relentless reminder of how close they were to the edge. His breath came in short, frantic gasps as he pulled Y/N further into the alley, her limp body weighing heavily in his arms. He glanced back, the sound of shuffling feet growing louder, the unmistakable groans of the undead inching closer. 

“Come on, come on,” Beomgyu muttered under his breath, willing his legs to move faster, to outrun the nightmare closing in on them. The alley was narrow, the walls of crumbling buildings on either side a silent witness to the chaos that had consumed the world. There was no time to lose.

His gaze darted around desperately, looking for an exit, a safe place to hide. But all he saw were empty streets, abandoned cars, and the dark silhouette of a world that had already fallen apart. There was no refuge here, only the looming threat of death.

“Just a little further,” he said softly to Y/N, even though he wasn’t sure she could hear him anymore. Her head lolled against his chest, her breaths shallow, each exhale a painful rasp, and her body was growing colder by the second. He had to get her out of this, he had to find a way to keep her alive.

He pushed forward, but the sound of the undead grew louder, too close, too close. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a rusted dumpster, his instincts kicking in as he ducked behind it, pressing Y/N’s limp form against the cold metal. 

The distant groans of the undead were now close enough that Beomgyu could almost feel them, their presence suffocating. His grip tightened on the crowbar in his hand, and his mind raced. There were too many of them, and he was too exposed. The only choice now was to wait, to hope they wouldn’t notice them. 

Beomgyu’s heart pounded as he tried to steady his breath, every muscle in his body tense with fear. His eyes scanned the street, flicking from shadow to shadow, searching for any movement, any sign of danger. He couldn’t let them find them here. He couldn’t let them find Y/N.

Time stretched out like an eternity, the tension unbearable. Beomgyu could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him, the weight of survival, of responsibility, of the life in his arms that was slipping away.

The shuffling grew louder. The undead were almost upon them. Beomgyu’s pulse thundered in his ears, his grip on Y/N tightening as he readied himself for a fight that he knew he might not survive. He wasn’t about to let her die here, not after everything they had gone through. 

“Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with desperation. “Please. Stay with me.”

But there was no response. She was barely conscious now, her body trembling in his arms as if it were fighting against the infection that had taken root in her. The infection had taken her voice, taken her strength. She was barely holding on.

Beomgyu’s breath hitched as a low groan echoed from around the corner. He stiffened, his grip on the crowbar tightening as he listened. His heart skipped a beat when the shuffling sound came closer, the unmistakable moans of the undead growing louder.

He could hear them now, the scratch of their rotting feet on the pavement, the clicking of their jaws as they searched for prey. They were here. 

A figure appeared in the distance, its ragged, decaying form barely visible under the dim streetlights. Beomgyu’s stomach turned as he saw more figures behind it, their grotesque forms stumbling forward, aimless and hungry. He could count at least five of them, maybe more.

He had no choice. He couldn’t stay hidden forever. 

Beomgyu moved, crouching low to the ground as he slid his arm around Y/N’s waist. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking. His mind was a blur of instincts and adrenaline as he darted out from behind the dumpster, moving toward the nearest building. The undead weren’t close enough yet to notice them, but the moment they did, it would be over.

The alley was a dead end. But the building ahead of them had a door—half open, a glimmer of hope. Beomgyu’s breath came fast and ragged as he sprinted toward it, his legs burning with the effort. He reached the door and kicked it open with a force that echoed in the silent night.

Inside, the building was dark, its windows boarded up and the air heavy with dust and decay. The sound of the undead was still there, close, but muffled now. Beomgyu didn’t hesitate. He pulled Y/N inside with him, slamming the door shut behind them. 

For a moment, they stood there in the darkness, the only sound the frantic pounding of Beomgyu’s heart and the ragged breathing of both him and Y/N.

Beomgyu pressed his back against the door, his breath shaky. He couldn’t hear the undead anymore, but that didn’t mean they were safe. They had to keep moving. 

Y/N’s weight sagged in his arms as she slipped into unconsciousness. Beomgyu’s heart dropped. She couldn’t survive much longer without proper care. He had to do something, anything to help her. But what?

He looked around the dark room, his eyes scanning for anything that could be of use. The space was abandoned, nothing but old furniture, broken shelves, and discarded items. But his eyes landed on something—a faint glow from the far corner of the room. 

A small, flickering light illuminated the corner of the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Beomgyu moved cautiously toward it, his body tense. As he got closer, he saw a makeshift camp set up in the corner. It looked like someone had been living here—an old cot, a few scattered supplies, and a small lantern.

Beomgyu’s mind raced. Whoever had been here wasn’t around anymore. But they’d left behind supplies. His fingers trembled as he rifled through the abandoned camp. There were medical supplies—bandages, antiseptic, a few vials of antibiotics. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

He grabbed what he could carry and hurried back to Y/N, who was barely breathing now. Her fever had spiked, yet her skin was cold to the touch. Her once fiery spirit seemed to have drained from her body.

Beomgyu quickly set to work, cleaning the wound on her arm and applying the antiseptic he had found. Her body jerked slightly as the alcohol stung, but she didn’t wake. He wrapped her arm as best he could, doing everything in his power to fight the infection. But even he knew this might not be enough. He could only hope it was.

As he finished, Beomgyu sat back on the floor, cradling her head in his lap. He brushed a damp lock of hair from her face, his thumb gently stroking her cold skin. His chest ached with the weight of everything he couldn’t fix. 

The moonlight shone through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting an eerie glow across the room. Outside, the world was falling apart, and inside, Beomgyu held onto Y/N with everything he had. The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. They had no way of knowing what the future held.

But in that moment, as he stared down at her pale face, he realized one thing.

No matter what happened, he wouldn’t let her die alone.

Y/N’s condition deteriorated rapidly. The night had been long, and the silence in the abandoned building had been oppressive, broken only by her occasional, shallow breaths. Beomgyu sat beside her, his eyes never leaving her fragile form as she lay on the cot he had managed to make for her from scraps of cloth and discarded furniture. He had done everything he could to help her—the wound was cleaned and bandaged, and he had given her water when she could take it. But it wasn’t enough. The infection had taken root, and it was spreading like wildfire.

By dawn, her breathing had become ragged, her body trembling uncontrollably. Beomgyu sat up straighter, the rising panic in his chest threatening to swallow him whole. He’d seen this before. He’d watched people he cared about slip away, their bodies ravaged by the same virus that was now threatening to claim Y/N. The fever was high, and her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor. It wouldn’t be long now.

But then, something changed.

Y/N’s eyes shot open wide, her body jerking as a scream tore from her throat. It was guttural, animalistic, and filled with pain. Beomgyu lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders to steady her, his heart hammering in his chest. Her eyes were wide, dilated, filled with terror as she fought against the convulsions overtaking her body.

“Y/N!” Beomgyu shouted, his voice frantic. “Y/N, look at me! Stay with me!”

But she couldn’t hear him. She was caught in the grip of the infection, her body twitching and convulsing as if the virus was trying to tear her apart from the inside. Beomgyu held her down, trying to keep her still, but she was too strong, too wild. He could see the change happening in her eyes—a blank, hollow look that he knew too well.

“Please… Y/N, fight it!” he begged, his voice breaking. His own heart shattered as he watched her struggle, his mind racing for any solution. Anything that could help her.

It was then that the memories came flooding back. The rumors he had heard, whispered in the darkest corners of the city—talk of a lab, a research facility, where scientists had been working on a cure for the infection before everything collapsed. The lab was a long shot, but it was the only hope left.

Beomgyu gritted his teeth, his determination flaring as he glanced around the room. Y/N was fading before his eyes, and there was nothing left to do but find that lab. He had to go. He had to try.

“I’ll be back,” Beomgyu said, his voice steady despite the rising panic. He pressed his forehead against Y/N’s for a brief moment, feeling the heat of her fever against his skin. “Stay here. I’ll find something to help you.”

Her hand reached up, weak but insistent, grabbing his wrist. Her fingers were trembling, but there was still strength in her grip. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with pain and desperation, but she managed a whisper.

“Beomgyu…” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “If I don’t make it… thank you. For everything.”

Beomgyu’s throat tightened, and he blinked back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “You’re going to make it,” he said firmly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I won’t let you go. I swear it.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his heart breaking with each step as he moved toward the door. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. There was a chance—a slim one—but it was all he had.

The world outside was a shadow of its former self. The once-thriving city had become a decaying husk, swallowed by the chaos of the apocalypse. Beomgyu stepped through the remnants of what was once a bustling metropolis, moving with purpose despite the growing panic gnawing at him. His only focus was Y/N—her life slipping away, and the antidote that might save her, locked away in the ruins of a laboratory somewhere in the city.

The path ahead was fraught with danger, but there was no choice but to push forward. The air was thick with the putrid stench of decay, mingled with the faint scent of burning rubble that lingered in the aftermath of past fires. The streets, once filled with the laughter and chatter of the city’s inhabitants, were now eerily silent—save for the distant groans and guttural growls of the infected.

Beomgyu gripped the crowbar tighter, the weight of it both comforting and heavy. He knew the stakes all too well. Every step he took could be his last. And yet, he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

The rumors he had heard were all that kept him going. Whispers of a research lab, hidden in plain sight within the city, where scientists had been working on a cure for the infection before the world had crumbled. It was said to be somewhere near the heart of the city, though no one knew if it still existed. The collapse of the government, the destruction of institutions, and the rise of the undead had made finding such a place a near-impossible task. But Beomgyu had to try.

His thoughts flickered back to the moment when he had left her. Her grip on his wrist, her voice weak but filled with gratitude, still echoed in his mind. She had been so certain, so willing to accept her fate if it came to that. But Beomgyu couldn’t accept that. Not when there was a chance, however slim, that he could save her.

He couldn’t afford to fail.

The road was treacherous, but Beomgyu moved swiftly, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was used to danger, used to fighting for his life, but today felt different. Every shadow felt like a threat, every noise felt like an omen. He had to keep his wits about him, and yet, the thought of returning to Y/N empty-handed was almost too much to bear.

As Beomgyu rounded a corner, his eyes caught sight of a group of zombies stumbling aimlessly through the street ahead. Their clothes were torn, their bodies decaying, but the hunger in their eyes was unmistakable. His stomach clenched in dread. 

Without hesitation, Beomgyu ducked behind a nearby car, holding his breath as the zombies shuffled past. The tension in his body was unbearable, but he kept himself still, waiting for the group to pass by. His grip tightened on the crowbar, his body poised to strike if any of them ventured too close.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, the zombies continued on their path, oblivious to Beomgyu’s presence. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, but there was no time to waste. The lab was still a long way off.

He slipped from his hiding place, moving quickly but quietly, the weight of his mission pushing him forward. 

The cityscape grew more desolate with every step he took. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, some overturned, others left in disarray as if the occupants had fled in haste. The destruction of the city wasn’t just physical—it was a visual representation of the collapse of society, the sudden loss of everything that had once been normal. People had abandoned their homes, their lives, in search of safety, only to find that no place was truly safe anymore.

Beomgyu glanced around, his eyes scanning the surrounding buildings. There was a slight flicker of movement ahead. He froze, holding his breath as he pressed himself against the side of a nearby building. Another zombie. Or perhaps more. He couldn’t tell yet.

His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tensed, ready to react. The sound of footsteps, slow and unsteady, drew nearer. Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the area. The buildings on either side of him were empty, their windows shattered or boarded up. The street was an obstacle course of debris, but he couldn’t afford to be caught in the open. 

The zombie shuffled closer, its broken and bloodied body dragging itself across the street. Beomgyu gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the crowbar. One wrong move, and he would be the next target. 

The moment the zombie was almost within arm’s reach, Beomgyu sprang into action. With a swift motion, he swung the crowbar and slammed it into the side of the zombie’s skull. The creature collapsed instantly, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap of flesh and bone. 

But there was no time to rest. Beomgyu didn’t wait for the body to hit the ground before moving on. He could hear more of them now—more groaning, more shuffling, more approaching footsteps. They were getting closer. He had to move faster. 

The journey felt endless. Every step forward felt like a mile. Beomgyu pushed through the wreckage of the city, his mind fixated on one goal: reaching the lab. The streets became more desolate, more dangerous as the days of chaos stretched into weeks, then months. The abandoned buildings were nothing but hollow shells now, echoes of a time long past.

As he neared the center of the city, Beomgyu found himself in an unfamiliar neighborhood, the streets narrower, the buildings taller. He could see it now: a high-rise building in the distance, its once-pristine surface now cracked and scarred from years of neglect. This had to be it. The lab had to be inside.

But as Beomgyu approached the entrance, he saw something that froze his blood in his veins. A group of zombies stood near the building’s entrance, their numbers greater than he had anticipated. It wasn’t just one or two. There were at least ten. Maybe more. And they were all clustered together, making any attempt to slip past them nearly impossible.

Beomgyu’s eyes darted around the street, looking for an alternative route. But there were no alleys, no side streets. The only option was to face them head-on.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his jacket tighter around him and moved forward. He could feel the sweat gathering at the back of his neck, the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. His pulse raced, but he didn’t let himself falter. There was no choice. He had to fight.

With a low growl, he stepped into the open, brandishing the crowbar. The zombies turned toward him, their eyes blank and hungry, their groans filling the air. Beomgyu’s heart thundered in his chest as he charged forward, swinging the crowbar with all his strength. One after another, the zombies fell. His body moved on instinct, each blow a desperate attempt to clear his way to the building.

But there were too many. No matter how fast he moved, how hard he swung, they kept coming. And with every zombie he took down, it seemed like two more appeared in its place. Beomgyu’s muscles screamed in protest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His vision blurred with exhaustion, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.

The end of the fight seemed like it would never come. His crowbar was slick with blood, his arms heavy from the constant strain. But he fought on, knowing that Y/N was depending on him. He had to finish this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last zombie crumpled to the ground. Beomgyu stood panting, his body covered in sweat and blood, but he had done it. The entrance to the lab was clear.

The interior of the lab was a wreck. The once-sterile environment had been ransacked, the shelves now bare and the equipment broken or missing. But Beomgyu didn’t care about any of that. His eyes were fixed on the lab’s central table, where a collection of vials and syringes lay, scattered amongst piles of notes and research papers. 

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the table. Among the chaos, he found it: a single vial of what appeared to be an experimental antidote. The label was faded, the text smudged, but it didn’t matter. This was it. 

His hands were trembling as he grabbed the vial, but he didn’t hesitate. He shoved it into his bag and turned to leave, his mind already racing ahead to Y/N. She was waiting for him. He couldn’t afford to waste a second more.

The return journey was a blur. His body was battered, his energy spent, but his mind was laser-focused. Nothing would stop him now. Y/N was waiting. And he would be damned if he let her slip away.

Beomgyu smiled faintly, his eyes full of determination. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

And with the antidote in his possession, they still had a chance.

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a sickly, orange glow over the ruins of the city. The days and nights had blurred together, a cycle of death and survival, where every second felt like an eternity. Beomgyu was exhausted—his body bruised and battered from the constant battles with the undead. He had been running on sheer willpower, driven by one singular thought: Y/N. 

His heart pounded as he trudged back through the desolate streets, the vial of antidote clenched tightly in his hand. It was a long shot, an act of desperation. But it was all they had. She was running out of time. 

The building was eerily quiet as he pushed the door open, wincing at the creaking sound. The last thing he wanted was to attract any unwanted attention. His eyes scanned the dark interior, and there she was. Y/N. Still lying motionless on the cot. 

His stomach twisted in dread. 

He rushed to her side, his footsteps light but frantic, and knelt beside her. Her skin was colder than before, her breathing shallow, and the sight of her frail, trembling form nearly shattered his resolve. Her once-strong presence was now nothing more than a shadow of herself. 

He wasted no time, grabbing a syringe and filling it up with the antidote. There wasn’t much in the vial, but he made sure that not a single drop was wasted. With a deep breath, he injected the antidote straight into Y/N’s bitten arm. All he could do now was wait and hope, as he stared down at her pale and weak frame.

"Y/N..." he whispered her name, his voice cracking with emotion.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but her eyes were unfocused, glazed over in a way that sent a chill down his spine. 

"Beomgyu…" Her voice was so weak it barely reached his ears, but there was a familiarity to it—a comfort, despite the rawness and the pain behind it. "I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

Beomgyu’s throat tightened at the words. He could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that was mirrored in his own heart. How many times had he seen this happen? How many people had he watched slip away, their bodies ravaged by this curse of an infection? Y/N was different. She wasn’t just anyone. She was everything.

"No." His voice was firm as he leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. "I won’t let you go. Not like this."

Her hand weakly grasped his, and her fingers trembled against his skin. She tried to sit up, but the effort was too much, and she slumped back, gasping for air.

"I never wanted this for you," she whispered, the words jagged as if every breath was a struggle. "You’ve done so much for me already. You’ve been through so much. If I—"

“Stop,” Beomgyu interrupted, squeezing her hand tighter. “You don’t get to say that. Don’t ever think you’re a burden to me. I promised I’d protect you. And I will keep that promise, no matter what."

Her lips trembled, and she closed her eyes, a faint, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I know you would. But I don’t want you to lose yourself over me. We’re running out of time… the world’s already taken too much."

Tears welled up in Beomgyu’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not now. Not when she needed him to stay strong. He had to. For her.

“No,” he said again, his voice fierce with determination. “I won’t lose you. We still have a chance.”

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered, and her grip on his hand weakened. He could feel the temperature of her skin rise and fall in a sickening pattern. The antidote wasn’t working fast enough. He cursed under his breath, desperation overtaking him. He had to do something. He had to fix this. He had to—

Suddenly, Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that sent a shock through his entire body.

“Beomgyu,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but urgent. “The antidote… it might not work. The infection—it's too advanced. It could… it could make things worse. You have to let me go.”

Her words pierced through him like a blade, but he refused to accept them. She couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t let her be serious.

“No,” he repeated, his voice tight with emotion. “You’re not going anywhere. Not on my watch.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his face, trying to read him. There was a long, tense pause between them, both of them knowing what had to be done and yet unwilling to face it.

Beomgyu pressed his forehead to hers, his breath shaky as he whispered into the silence that followed. “I’m not losing you. I won’t ever lose you.”

For a moment, Y/N simply lay there, her body still trembling. Then, as if making up her mind, she lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek. Her touch was soft, fragile, like a whisper of a dream that threatened to slip away at any moment.

“Beomgyu,” she said again, her voice barely audible now. “If… if we don’t make it through this… promise me you’ll keep fighting. Keep fighting for the people who are still left.”

His heart clenched painfully at her words. She wasn’t giving up, not really. She was asking him to be strong, to carry on, even if she couldn’t. He didn’t know how he would go on without her. But he had to. For her. For both of them.

“I promise,” he said, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “I’ll fight. And I’ll never stop loving you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the faintest spark of relief seemed to flicker across her face. She closed her eyes, her breath evening out, and Beomgyu held his breath as he waited for the antidote to work its magic.

Minutes passed like hours.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, her body began to relax. Her hands, which had been trembling so violently, went still in his. Her chest rose and fell in a more rhythmic pattern. The faint sheen of sweat on her skin began to fade. Beomgyu couldn’t believe it. He dared not move, afraid that if he did, the fragile miracle that was unfolding before him would slip away.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead, his tears finally falling.

“I’m here. Always.”

The sun had risen again, and the world outside remained broken, a ghost of its former self. But inside the small room where Beomgyu sat, holding Y/N’s hand, there was a quiet peace. A tenuous sense of hope that neither of them had dared to dream of until now.

Y/N was awake, though still weak, her breathing steady. The antidote had worked—at least for now. She wasn’t fully recovered, but she was alive. And that was enough. It was everything.

Beomgyu had stayed by her side for hours, watching over her like a hawk. He wasn’t about to let her slip away again. Not after everything they had been through together.

Her eyes fluttered open once more, and she looked at him with a quiet smile on her lips. It wasn’t the radiant, full smile that had once been so familiar to him. But it was something. It was enough.

“You’re still here,” she said softly, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

Beomgyu chuckled, his heart light despite the chaos surrounding them. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to kick me out if you want any peace and quiet.”

She laughed weakly, the sound soft and fragile, but it warmed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“I think I can handle your company,” she teased, though the fatigue was evident in her voice. “But I’m serious. Thank you. For everything. You saved my life.”

Beomgyu shook his head, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “No. You’re the one who saved me. Every day, you keep me going. Even when everything seems lost.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached up, cupping his face with her palm. “I love you, Beomgyu. Always.”

And in that moment, in the midst of a ruined world, surrounded by death and uncertainty, Beomgyu realized that the promise of love was enough. It was the one thing that would keep them fighting.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

They sat in silence, holding each other close, finding comfort in the warmth of the other. The world outside may have been broken, but together, they had found a way to survive. 

And that was all that mattered.

As long as they had each other, they would keep fighting.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: That wraps up my first ever fic!! I never thought I would write my own stories, I was always just a lurker in the shadows, reading fics 24/7, and here I am now, sharing my first fic with you guys. English is also not my first language and this might not immediately be the best fic ever but I still had fun writing it and I hope you guys have the same amount of fun reading it too.

I was very much inspired by raya or @dawngyu so make sure to check them out too. I would love to here your thoughts and opinions after reading this so don't be afraid to comment or reblog!!

Taglist: @dawngyu @frankghgr @yunverie @usuallyunlikelyfox @woncheecks @yogurttea @beomsdoll @lonelylandofan @binluvsu @ahniboom @virtaideen @blossommi @whatblop @hhoneyhan @papichulomacy

[mizuki-foreshadowing]

Mizuki surrounds herself in mystery, but I feel like there's a comparable amount of mystery surrounding Ena.

There isn't even an implied reason for why she's a social outcast;

Kanade is basically a ghost in every detail of her lifestyle, she doesn't leave the house, she isn't even able to keep it clean or livable without Honami, who's also the only reason she eats things other than instant noodles or nutrient bars, and aside from taking genuinely good care of her hair, she's really barely alive; Mafuyu sacrficed her sense of self and the significance to herself of the way she feels about things to her mothers expectations of the perfect overachiever prep school daughter and it's slowly (and quickly) killing her; and Mizuki's taking on the world alone (alone by choice mind you) as potentially the only trans girl she even knows about, trading a persona who's bitter and miserable from constantly getting burned for liking cute things, for one who embraces loving cute things at the expense of emotionally shutting out literally everybody, since she can't be burned if she never lets herself get emotionally vulnerable.

But with Ena, I'm not sure why. Not even that I simply don't know yet, I don't know what I'm supposed to think the reason is.

There is definitely something to be said for Ena's temper. She blows up at Mafuyu in the Main Story over, to her, squandering talent that Ena can't hope to know herself, for self-important reasons such as being saved or one's true self, and Airi talks about Ena's history with her temper to Mizuki in What's On Your Mind - Exciting Picnic (episode 4), how it was even the reason they first became friends. And a great many of Ena's very finest moments open with her telling someone to shut up. Almost certainly, the only reason Mizuki didn't get an earful on that rooftop in What Lies Behind - What Lies Ahead is because Meiko told Ena she needs to hold back and understand that she simply doesn't have the full story. All of this in addition to how, in her first focus, she backed herself into a corner staking her sense of worth as an artist on a contest submission over how heated a fight with her dad had got; the letter that she was not even considered for that contest wouldn't have devastated her if her dad didn't know she entered.

Obviously, there's her relationship with her dad, which is definitely where her (and Akito's) anger issues come from. Him telling her in no uncertain terms that at the end of the day she lacks talent and can never consider art professionally, came completely out of the blue to Ena. Before, he supported her love of art; it was only when she started to follow her dreams of doing it professionally like her father that he changed his tune. But even the resolution of that event (Insatiable Pale Color), where Akito got him to understand that Ena is really hurt from, to him, his desire held over many years now to set her on a kinder life path than the one he walks and sees lesser artists try and fail to walk, and to remember to be kind to his daughter as a father again, he really couldn't even do that. He snuck into her room, complimented a part of her art, immediately before telling her with just as sharp an eye why it's bad, but just, didn't even mention anything about their relationship, and certainly didn't apologize. He didn't even give her the 'I know she won't be able to walk the path I had to so I'm doing this to help her' speech he gave to Akito. So Shinei is definitely a problem, but I'm not sure he's why Ena's a social outcast, per se.

It might seem like Ena is a social outcast because her temper makes it so she can't have friends, but Airi is living proof that isn't true, that Ena is able and equipped to maintain longterm friendships. Significantly better than Mizuki is, in fact; Mizuki and Rui maintain a certain distance despite each still caring for the other. Moreover, both Airi and Ena have a tendency to snap at people and get harsh, so it also isn't an easy friendship to maintain.

Beyond her father and her temper, there's just seemingly unrelated details to go off of. Time and again, Ena is shown to eat sweets and deserts and not care what anybody has to say about it, while living a completely sedentary lifestyle. It comes up that her physical fitness isn't much better than Kanade's and is worse than Mizuki's, and people are always chiding Ena when she eats whatever she wants. This seems to be a coping mechanism, and fair; it's good to find a little joy in what you eat.

Potentially, Ena's attitude about her diet [or lack thereof] is a side-effect of her longtime friendship with Airi, who (understandably) has internalized herself keeping a good figure almost as a matter of life-or-death, and she'll also always be chiding Minori about eating what Minori wants, despite Haruka very much having Airi's same relationship with food. (I'm convinced Shizuku just genuinely loves eating healthy, but this may be me falling for her mask). I think put together, this implies Ena's a little on the chubby side, but that's not quite enough either for why she's a social outcast.

At the end of the day, Ena simply doesn't fixate on her figure, in direct contrast to how we see that featuring in with the More More Jump story; if they wanted to write Ena as having an unhealthy relationship with being pretty for her selfies, they've shown that they could. Ena does love fashion and does keep up with the trends and magazines, and Mizuki points out in the main story that Ena's really good with camera filters. Another way Ena has coped with not receiving the love her father is keeping from her, is trying to find it in social media, with her social media fame. Whether it's supposed to be Twitter or Instagram, she uses her account exclusively to post selfies that she tags very simply, while maintaining an internet-safety level of anonymity. Presumably she posts as Enanan because Mizuki comments in the main story that her social media account is the only thing Mizuki really knows about Ena's life outside N25 (and that the only thing she knows from it is what Ena looks like).

The elephant in the room, and why I don't consider her social media fame as a counterexample for why Ena can't possibly be a little chubby, is that Ena is a high schooler, and she became an instagram idol when she was a middle schooler. In theory, Ena knowing this reflects poorly on the people who fawn over her mere seconds after a posting a selfie, is the reason the gratification and attention she gets doesn't sustain her for more than a quick high.

In theory, all of this put together means Ena fits right in with the rest of the N25 cast, but, I just can't help but feel like there's something I'm missing.

[skania]

Kana and Ruby were desperate to be seen by Aqua/Goro. Meanwhile, Akane sought to see—understand—the real Aqua.

Aqua shines the spotlight on Kana to save her from her bad habits. He does the same for Ruby, freeing her from her burden.

The manga puts a lot of emphasis on the way Goro was Ruby's light, on the way Aqua brought out Kana's radiance. We're shown that Sarina wants to marry him, that Kana wanted to be his idol. Despite this, neither is privy to the burden Aqua is carrying.

With Aqua and Akane, the manga paints a different picture: It actually allows Akane to get involved. Aqua saved her life and ever since she has been doing her best to save his heart in turn.

What's more: Goro has been saving people all along, but Akane is the one the manga has actively taking mesures to return the favor.

[dykedvonte]

Ty for answering my asks! Recently, I saw some fanart of the gender bendered crew and it got me curios, how much would the plot change if Jimmy was a woman. I mean, she would still be emotionally abusive (esp to Fem!Curly), but at lest, I guess, the crash would've never happened (?)

Also, her relationship w/ Anya: if she was assulted still, it prolly would've been dissmissed, since it's between 2 women. Or, if Anya is male in this scenario, he couldn't really be able to talk abt it, since society decided that "women can't r*pe men", so it's not serious and he should suck it up. Man, it's just sucks to be Anya in any scenario my poor girl 😭

What do you think? If you have an opinion on that at all, that is

-💀

I think the scenario's where the gender was flipped or any level of gender based intersectionality is expanded makes it so much more complex.

If this is the scenario with fem!Jimmy, it comes with the territory of questionable internalized homophobia. Does Jimmy brush it off in this scenario because she doesn't think lesbian encounters are real ones? Is she struggling with her identity and taking it out on Anya who may be openly queer compared a fem!Curly who is either straight or just not interested in Jimmy? Perhaps it's a sort of weird entitled that can occur in female dominated spaces "We're both girls, I know what you have, it won't matter." It's still is something I don't see Jimmy denying in this scenario, he never really denies it in canon just talks around it with Curly. Here I can see it's less about the pregnancy and more so about the internalized homophobia. Not seeing Anya as anything but an unwanted aspect of her femineity and the allure of it, there's a lot more objectification of both Curly and Anya in this alteration as I would believe feels better thinking of them in that light if they are just fodder in her mind. Guilty pleasures that no longer bring her such. It's a careful situation because I don't want this to fall into predatory lesbian stereotyping, Jimmy is just a person who does not respect other people or their choice, if it conflict with what he wants or perceived is owed.

The idea of Curly having to report it and outing her not only as a rapist but queer and the denial, especially in the case Anya and Curly are both out as she feels a sort of resentment she can't be secure with herself that way. If it is masc!Curly, there could be the jealousy of him being able to actively pursue relationships he wants while she feels she can't, Anya and Curly playfully flirt, its casual but it's something she longs for in the same way she doesn't. She obsesses over Curly because she wishes she could be Curly in a social sense in both aspect male or female Curly.

If it's fem!Jimmy and masc!Anya? It's a much more delicate situation. In this scenario Jimmy gets pregnant. Maybe Anya does a blood test after the incident and finds out Jimmy is pregnant. It's a very sensitive matter because if it's fem!Curly her first assumption is Anya may have done something. That is just the immediate assumptions in cases like this. I think the fact that Anya is telling her would make Curly think it's not that simple, especially since Jimmy isn't brining it up or really caring but everyone reacts differently. Jimmy is pregnant however, and that's a big deal, she'll figure that out eventually on her own but how will she react? Curly knows it won't be good, Anya knows too.

I think the crash is instigated in this scenerio by fem!Curly actually doing more, refusing to sweep it under the rug because she can conceptualize that fear, likely she and Jimmy are the only girls on board. She trusts everyone, well did trust everyone, but it's just something you live with. She can't just live with that double standard but I feel like she really doesn't know how to address it. How does she bring it up to superiors without implicating Anya? What does she do with Jimmy, it still feels like she's catering to Jimmy but now the concern is primarily focused on the life this baby will be born into. If it is born at all. I don't think Jimmy would try to kill Anya in this concept but try to spin the narrative it was mutual up until she got pregnant. Curly doesn't really buy it but it's a lot of processing, a lot more he said she said but what Jimmy is saying just doesn't make sense. It gives Jimmy too much time to really settle with the fact she's pregnant and likely can't support a kid nor wants to give birth out in space. Jimmy feeling like she's being othered from the only other woman could also be a factor, maybe even starting into her thinking Curly is behaving like a "pick-me" for siding with a guy over her. The crash is more spiteful in terms of having to protect herself alone, due to Curly not outright supporting her delusions.

It really adds a certain horror to Jimmy's pregnancy hallucinations because after the crash they are about her, her symptoms the sign of showing. She doesn't want the child either and considering what being pregnant can do to your mental/physical state, especially some of the more negative symptoms, I doubt she is handling it well. A lot of Anya's struggles are with the stigmas around male victims. His body reacted so did he want it? He's gonna be a father and courts likely will make him pay or care for the baby even if they take Anya's side, their world is just like that. Would the other's blame him for not doing more, he is a man after all? Should he be considered lucky a woman was that into him? It's eating away at him because not only does he not feel safe, he actively blames himself.

In the case Curly is still a cis guy, its that weird feeling guys often get when talking about male victims of assault. I don't think he'd victim blame but he likely asks or thinks about how it could've happened, why wouldn't Anya just overpower Jimmy? Maybe he couldn't? Maybe Anya didn't have it in him to strike a woman. He wouldn't. Now he thinks of what he would have done if Jimmy did something like that to him. SImilary to my trans!Curly post, he's wondering if it could've been him. It's likely one of the first times in his life he has to think of that type of vulnerability in terms of himself and other men and against likely his girl best friend. I think that arm pat right before Jimmy crashes the ship would really make him feel weird, not like he'd have the time to really dig into those feeling but y'know WERE GONNA CRASH!!!.

In terms of Jimmy and Curly's specific relationship, it just gets messier if they aren't both guys or girls. There's a lot of misogny on Jimmy's side with fem!Curly. He often points out she's a woman captain or makes a point of her being one of the few independent woman in her field and how certain men hate that. It's insidious but Curly doesn't think about or like to cause she likes to believe Jimmy isn't one of those guys. He can be a bit antiquated, maybe a bit of a pig but no ones perfect! Here a lot of his resentment is more gear toward a woman having that power over him as Captain/filling the typical male roles he fails at. He can't stand that she's above him in almost aspect and he likely takes it out on other women. Similarly, fem!Jimmy and cis Curly is just as bad. It's a fact of not knowing if she wants to be him, wants him or wants to destroy him. It's obsession without anything positive. She feels entitled to his space and life and time and he has a hard time setting up boundaries cause, well, Jimmy's a girl, his bestfriend and it comes with all the stigmas around boygirl best friends. To him it's a sort of oppressive doting, he feels wrong telling her not to pick and like he's being controlling. That's how she'd spin it whenever he'd try to make boundaries with her.

They are still just friends but most people can't tell even if they can tell it's not healthy, in both cases. Either way I feel like if they were opposite genders to each other there would a specific infatuation Jimmy would have with Curly that would be less hidden but sort of unaddressed because the idea of Curly rejecting them would make them lash out in a way Curly may just leave for their safety. It's also Jimmy wouldn't want to be with Curly specifically but just want what would consistently provide/available.

If they are both girls, its envy. It's that sort of hate that someone fits the standards you don't, wanting them to be picked second or crack. She likes to get into Curly's head, point out flaws and act like it's just her being helpful. She wants Curly to be a girls girl but only for her. There's a sort of possessiveness like purposely jeopardizing relationships because why would a man come first? That girl hates me and is a pick me, why are you friends with her still, Curly? Like this is silly but think about how Regina George treats Gretchen Wieners and that's effectively how fem!Curly and fem!Jimmy would work but technically Curly has the sway of Regina.

I believe the crash would always happen. Jimmy would try to escape responsibility or really thinking about what they did in any world, any gender. It's about facing the consequences, losing things he refuses to let go of or having to deal with responsibilities he's not ready for. The switching of sex or gender really doesn't change those core aspects.

[silviakundera]

Haha I also used the dickless bore. I thought that only the two main characters came back didn't know he did as well. I still don't buy him ever being into her but that's just me I do wonder if he's going to try and kill her again. I do think Li Rong is treating him too well for my liking she should at least treat hit similarly or worse than she treated ML I want to see wet paper towel non stop suffer.

on one hand, imo a SRQ who is heartless doesn't work for the story the writer is trying to share with us. On the other hand, it's totally ok to decide to be a full-time hater towards a minor character, just because it's fun. I support haters! 🎉 \o/ 🎉

One thing that I think is relevant when comparing LR's reactions: if PWX had killed her, the motive would have been as part of his mission to have his childhood love Qin Zhenzhen's son become the next emperor. (Remember, he came over to threaten her life over that right before she died and called his ex Zhenzhen lmao) THE AUDACITY. In contrast, LR is viewing her murder at SRQ's hands as part of the revenge plan for the Su family's execution.

Some passages of Li Rong's POV:

After a few moments, she whispered: “Where did the scent on you come from?”

“If I say it, you might be upset.” Pei Wenxuan’s eyes had a hint of gloating at others’ pain.

Li Rong thought for a while and frowned, “Su Rongqing?”

“Yes.”

...Li Rong said nothing. She blankly stared into the fire.

Pei Wenxuan turned the fish over and looked at her with a smile, seemingly quite happy. Li Rong found that he had a fearless, unabashed look of enjoying a good play and couldn’t help but be a little fazed.

She believed everything Pei Wenxuan said.

---

Su Rongqing was someone that she saved with her own hands.

That year, Prince Su rebelled, and Su Rongqing’s elder brother spoke up for Prince Su. Later on, he was falsely accused of colluding with Prince Su, implicating the Su clan with treason.

At that time, Li Chuan was so furious that he fainted. He put the entire Su clan in prison without going through the Joint Trial of Three Divisions first and put the men to death and the women into exile. She disagreed with this decision and rushed to beg Li Chuan before the Su clan received their sentence. After being subjected to ten planks, with Pei Wenxuan’s intervention, she was finally able to ask for amnesty for the Su clan.

Even if the death sentences can be forgone, it was impossible to escape punishment while still alive. Even though the men of the Su clan could live, they would be subjected to castration. The others couldn’t bear the humiliation, so they all committed suicide in prison. When she arrived, there was only one man “desperate for life and afraid of death” left among the men of the Su clan, Su Rongqing.

At that time, she had told Su Rongqing that she saved him without the intention of asking him to repay her. She could give him silver and a position, so that he could continue to live a good life in the future.

Back then, she didn’t have any special feelings towards Su Rongqing. It was just that he had saved her before, so after he took care of her, bit by bit, she felt grateful, and…vague sentiments towards him.

For the most part, she sought to save the Su clan for Li Chuan and her own conscience. The Su clan was a prominent, noble family. It was difficult for her to sit back and watch if they died in such an ambiguous manner.

At that time, Su Rongqing refused to go.

...It wasn’t that she had never thought that Su Rongqing would not take revenge on her. After all, it was Li Chuan who ordered all the men of the Su clan to be beheaded and exiled all the female family members. It was impossible for anyone to forget this blood feud, let alone the formerly first and most outstanding gongzi of that year?

For so many years, she had never dared to give him real authority, observing him and guarding against him while still trying to help him live a better life. She couldn’t actually kill him because of her own conscience, but she couldn’t actually trust him and give him power.

In the end, he still decided to act. He killed her first, then successfully took her authority in the name of eliminating Pei Wenxuan. If she guessed correctly, he would not leave with the advisors. Instead, he would borrow the excuse of taking revenge for her and enforcing the will of the people to join forces with the Empress, assist Li Xin in ascension, and fight to the death against the remnants of Pei Wenxuan’s faction.

...

She had anticipated this possibility from the moment she took Su Rongqing in, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit regretful when it actually happened.

[masked-puppetmaster]

do you think hunter ever felt guilty getting a new palisman. Like he has so clearly found so many ways to honor flapjack with the grave and the whole tattoo situation but like do you think he was worried about replacing flapjack when he (presumably) made waffles

[space-invading-pigeon]

Hellfire Adopts Steve Pt. 2

Pt 1

Eddie may be repeating his senior year, but he's no idiot. He's intuitive, a quick thinker, and generally, he's an excellent judge of character. Which is exactly why he protested Gareth's decision to drag Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High and current King of Don't Fuck With Me, to lunch with Hellfire.

Jeff and Freak are both genuinely terrified to have His Royal Highness picking at subpar mashed potatoes in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from them; to his credit, Steve Harrington seemed unbothered by the situation, even as Princess Nancy Wheeler and her own little pet outcast Jonathan pass him on the way to their own table. Eddie watches with growing interest as Steve boredly ignores Nancy's attempt to catch his eye (it's almost hilarious- he'd been at the Halloween party last month where Nancy got absolutely shitfaced and then screamed at Steve in front of the entire student body, and yet here they are, Nancy trying awkwardly to speak to Steve and Steve resolutely going about his business).

Gareth stammers through a story about their latest DnD campaign, his round face practically glowing with excitement as he uses the peas on his tray to illustrate what their party had been up against. Eddie fully expects Steve to say something rude, dousing Gareth's smile and deserving every bit of ire Eddie can muster, but Steve just smiles at Gareth and ruffles his hand through the unkempt curls Eddie's been trying to get Gareth to take care of.

From there it only gets weirder. Steve seems to have taken a real shine to Gareth and is nothing short of a perfect gentleman to Jeff and Freak, but he loves to bicker with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie's impressed at just how much Steve seems to like bitching at people.

Steve is also surprisingly responsible? After that first lunch, Steve is around all the time; he shows up to Hellfire meetings with his backpack full of homework and a Tupperware full of something delicious (Eddie had nearly cried the first time he took a bite of Steve's macaroni), only to completely ignore their entire session to study. Occasionally, the walkie Steve carries with him whenever they aren't in school will crackle to life, and Steve will make himself scarce pretty quickly.

Overall, Steve is awesome. Eddie hates to admit it, but watching such a prim and proper guy emotionally destroy someone for commenting on Freak's size, and Eddie just knows that the damage done to Tommy Hagan's car after Gareth showed up to Hellfire with a busted lip and glassy eyes was Steve's fault.

========

Steve is actually really enjoying his time in Hellfire. He doesn't really mention it to the kids, and both Nancy and Jonathan are still avoiding him, so Steve sees it as a win: he gets to make friends who haven't seen him get his ass beat by interdimensional horrorterrors that have ruined dogs and flowers for him forever, he gets to learn more about the game his new little brother is obsessed with, and innocent kids don't have to bear the brunt of King Billy's reign of terror.

Gareth decides almost instantly that he likes Steve; not only because he saved Gareth from bullies or brings them food better even than Wayne Munson's, but because Steve always listens to his DnD stories. Jeff and Freak (who Steve will only refer to by his Government Name, Melvin) grow to like him as well, not at all encouraged by the food Steve brings or (on one memorable occasion) the incredibly realistic melee weapon, straight out of a flick like Red Dawn, that they found under his seat one day.

[millionsknives]

i don’t think i’ve rewatched atla since becoming a committed pacifist and i just finished what was probably my tenth rewatch and i have never loved aang more. i've seen it so many times but i still came away with a new appreciation for the way the end of the story was handled. aang is the only survivor of a genocide and he is clinging to the last remnants of his culture and religion, and everyone is telling him the only way to save the world is to kill the dictator whose regime is responsible for the genocide, but to do so would abandon the deeply held beliefs of his people. if aang goes against his beliefs and kills ozai, his people's way of life dies completely and sozin wins.

aang knows it would be wrong but he can't see another way out so he prays for an answer, and the universe hears him and the spirits send out the lion turtle, and the creator answers him. and here's the thing that i never put together before today: aang would not have been able to energybend ozai if he had given in and wanted to kill him. the lion turtle tells aang that only the incorruptible can bend another’s energy, or else they will become corrupted themselves. and i think that aang, because of his love for the fire nation as he had once known it, was never corrupted by personal hatred for the fire lord or the fire nation. he was able to expertly hold two conflicting beliefs in harmony better than any adult could, the belief that ozai is a horrible person and the world would be better off without him and that he's still a human being with a life that is sacred.

and i don't think it's a matter of selfishness like some people make it out to be. aang is not some immature little kid who doesn't want to kill because killing is for bad guys. he's an incredibly wise and spiritual person who was shaped by airbender beliefs and upholds airbender beliefs, and he can see beyond the scope of this war. the balance of the world depends on the existence of the four nations, and aang does not just represent the air nomads, he IS the air nomads. he's all that's left.

despite many people’s interpretation of the four past avatars’ advice, none of the past avatars outright tell him to kill ozai. they tell him to be decisive, to bring justice, to be proactive, to be sacrificial. but none of them tells him definitively to kill him. he doesn't disobey or ignore their advice, he follows their ancient wisdom while still staying true to his beliefs. yangchen actually comes the closest to outright telling him to kill ozai (even more than kiyoshi, surprisingly) but what she fails to account for is that aang is not just the avatar, he is the last airbender, and being the last airbender is far greater a burden than being the avatar. no matter what happens, once he dies, there will always be another avatar. but if he is not careful to preserve the airbender way of life, there will be no more airbenders. yangchen could sacrifice her air nomad way of life for the sake of her duty to the world because there were thousands of other air nomads to continue their traditions. aang has no such privilege.

and it's not that he doesn't want to kill, it's that he actually doesn't think he can do it -- both that he won't be able to emotionally bring himself to kili someone, and, prodigy that he is, he doesn't have the raw bending skill to overcome a comet-powered master firebender. and then it turns from 'i don't think i can do it' into ‘i can’t do it.’ and when the avatar state gives him enough power to actually do it, he changes the answer to ‘i won’t do it.’ he overcomes all the combined power of his past lives to say no, i have found another answer and i will remain incorruptible. to kill is to maintain the power struggle of the fire nation and to reject air nomad wisdom and without airbenders the world CANNOT be brought into balance.

the only thing ozai cares about is power, and that's what the entire fight with ozai is about, physically and ideologically, because ozai only sees power in terms of force, fear, threats, and violence. to ozai, aang (and his entire people) are weak and undeserving of life because they are largely pacifists, but he fails to see the magnificent power that the airbenders do hold, spiritual wisdom and mastery of the self and contentment and joy and harmony and a deep understanding of the world that a man like ozai could never obtain. to kill ozai would ratify ozai’s worldview that power as he defines it is the most important pursuit in the world and the only way to assert one's right to be in the world is to be cruel and violent like him. i think to ozai, becoming powerless might be worse than being dead. he wants power, or he wants death, and aang gives him neither. it upends everything he believed in. aang, the avatar, but more importantly, the last airbender, armed by his past lives' power and his people's love and the spirit world's blessing and the lion turtle's omniscience (and toph's mastery of true sight through neutral jing), ends the war 100 years to the day after the air nomad genocide, in the way that his people taught him, with power that goes beyond force and violence, with spiritual wisdom, with an incorruptible soul, with mercy -- mercy that is not weakness, mercy that brings justice.

[sturnioz]

shy!reader has been pretty much m.i.a all week, and fratboy!chris does not care. no seriously, he doesn’t care.

he’s just kept his eyes peeled every night through crowds of sweaty bodies jammed into his living room, and even through the sluggish crowds of tired students in college hallways, yet he couldn’t find you.

it was on the 6th night when chris was seriously considering showing up at your place — for no reason just he needed your lit notes, of course —when he received a text from nick.

nick, the eldest — and no doubt more mature —triplet. chris’ eyebrows furrowed at the notification, why was nick texting him at 10:30pm on a weeknight? kid cares way too much about being on time for class in the mornings

—

Nick: *image attached* isn’t this one of your girls?

—

the somewhat blurry picture was taken from a distance in the old, dusty library on campus. you sat in a corner, a mess of notes, books and your laptop sprawled on the desk in front of you. you looked weak, your hair a mess, bags prominent under your eyes.

before chris could even react, his phone buzzed again

—

i’m not a total creeper, i’ve just noticed her here every night this week and i’m pretty sure she has not changed her sweatshirt once

or pretty much left this library.

i seriously hope this is actually her and not a complete stranger

you know what, i’m talking to her. don’t change my mind.

—

chris groaned, the realisation of finals week dawning on him. sometimes chris forgets how much college actually means to you, and how ridiculously sick it makes you.

he did not have time for this, he had customers to please, yet - he didn’t hesitate. he’s huffing and complaining pretty much the whole time, but he’s quick to make his way over to the library he’s really not too familiar with, saving you from the shackles that is a conversation with a redbull fueled nick sturniolo.

-

you can take it from here, love u pooks mwah

- 🫧

gonna take it from here in shy!readers pov cos i want nick and shy!reader to have some one on one time before fratboy!chris grumpily comes over !!

your back aches with a constant throb, your eyes feel gritty and sore, and a dull headache pulses at your temples, making it difficult for you to concentrate. hunched over in the dimly lit corner of the library, you've spent countless of hours — days — buried in textbooks, scribbles notes and laptop screens, desperately trying to absorb everything before your exams.

the week has been relentless, leaving you physically and emotionally drained, as if the weight of your studies is pressing down on you.

you haven't seen chris in almost a week. the silence has been deafening — no texts lighting up your phone, no calls breaking the quiet, and no facetime calls at late hours. truth be told, you did put your phone on do not disturb, silencing any incoming calls to shield yourself from distractions. it's not that you intended to cut off all communication completely; you simply needed space.

you needed to be alone, to gather your thoughts, and to focus on your studies, to not be distracted by his intense social life.

however, you are distracted when someone slams a stack of textbooks onto the table opposite you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. startled, you lift your tired gaze, and your heart thumps when you recognise a familiar that slumps into the seat across from you.

he runs a hand through his tousled mullet, adjusting the thin-framed glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose before flashing you a friendly grin.

you know who he is. you've seen him in countless pictures and instagram posts with chris and matt. yet, despite your familiarity with his image, you've never met him in person — you never even spoke a word to each other, and you find yourself sliding further down in your seat, a wave of awkwardness and shyness washing over you.

"hello—fuck!" nick curses as he sets his can of red bull down on the wooden table, only for it to topple over and spill a little. flustered and annoyed, he mutters under his breath, hastily dabbing at the tiny droplets on the table with the sleeve of his sweater. his eyes finally meet yours again, and he offers another grin. "hello."

"hi.." you manage to respond, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i've noticed that you're, like, constantly glued to this fucking seat, like you haven't moved the entire week—" nick pauses mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he realises how awful his wording sounds. he quickly holds up his hand, a look of urgency in his expression. "i'm not a creep. i wasn't staring at you. i know you—i think i know you—no, i do know you. you're, like, kinda with my brother. chris. that's you, right? god, tell me that's you, 'cos i'm gonna end up losing my mind—"

"yeah," you cut off his intense rambling, which is probably fuelled by the red bull he keeps fidgeting with. "that... that's me, yeah."

nick blinks at you in silence for a moment before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and he bluntly says. "wow, you really are quiet," you become a little flustered at that, tearing your gaze away from him until he asks incredulously. "the fuck are you doing with chris of all people?"

a subtle smile pulls at your lips at that, especially when you glance back at his face and see the shock etched across it. honestly, you don't even know what you're doing with chris, but it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to go into the details with his brother. so, you simply shrug your shoulders in response.

nick suddenly deadpans. "blink twice if you need my help."

now that makes you laugh — a genuine, unexpected sound that splutters past your lips. you quickly cover your mouth, eyes widening as the sound echoes through the library and you glance around, paranoid that someone might shoot you the dirtiest look and demand you to shut up or leave.

but nick waves it off dismissively when he notices your worries, "they can go fuck themselves."

you remain silent for a moment, considering his words, before stating, "we... are in a library."

"then they can go fuck themselves quietly."

another genuine, but quieter, laugh escapes you. you find yourself relaxing a bit more with him, opening up and feeling more comfortable as nick takes charge of the conversation; showing genuine interest in your major, your studies, and your hobbies.

you do the same, getting to know him better, and even getting a little excited when you realise how many similarities you share. the more you chat, the more your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much. the tiredness that had once taken over you begins to fade away, replaced by a lightness you haven't felt in days, and your books and notes sit forgotten on the table.

however, your head perks up in surprise when you spot chris walking through the double doors. he's wearing a beanie on top of his head with tuffs of curly hair peeking out, a hoodie that swallows his frame, and his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

he glances around the library, his eyes finally zeroing in on you and nick at the far end of the room. you can't quite read his expression — his face stoic as he makes his way over.

he drops down in the chair beside you, and nick immediately pulls a face, shooting you a look that makes you giggle again, and chris huffs at the sound, clearly unimpressed.

"stop botherin' her," chris mutters, his foot hooking comfortably beneath your chair as he settles in.

"m'not."

chris rolls his eyes, ignoring nick's response as he turns his attention to you. he takes you in for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing as he says, "tell him he's botherin' you, kid."

you can't help but smile gently. "he's not bothering me. he's been fun.. i like his company."

"told you," nick muses across from across the table. chris snaps his head towards nick, shooting him a glare as nick lifts the can of red bull to his mouth, a smirk spreading across his lips as he adds, "bitch."

[obxanon]

Addressing the OBX drama and the speculations:

Was JJ’s Death planned?

No, Rudy asked to leave the show. It wasn’t something the writers planned. He didn’t want to renew, the writers were rightfully upset and then decided to kill JJ off.

Did the writers/producers create an uncomfortable set?

No, they didn’t. This post is not true. The brothers were never inappropriate.

Was Madison a bully on set?

I’ve seen a post going around of someone saying Madison was a bully, controlling the set, and bluntly treating Rudy and crew members like crap. That is NOT true. 

Was Rudy’s decision sudden?

Yes and No. No as in he let the Pates know ahead of time he didn’t want to continue (some time during the strike, so they had time to change what was already written). Yes, as in they were shocked by it.

Was there on set drama between Rudy and the Pates?

Yes, there was many disagreements/personal problems during s4. Yes, Elaine was involved and so was Lilah Pate. They are civil now.

Why did every ship but Jiara get a still?

The jiara still does exist but idk why it was not released. My source doesn’t know either and I don’t want to spread something not true. Rudy and Madison took pictures just like everybody else did.

Why did the cast chemistry seem off in part 2?

They shot episodes 1-5 first, THEN 10, then 6-9. The cast didn’t know rudy asked to leave until they received the script for episode 10. You can tell there was a drastic change between JJ and Kiara in part 2 because after the cast found out, Madison was upset with Rudy and his decision, so she didn’t put in as much effort into the scenes with him. She was upset because she knew that would mean the near end of obx and her character… in a way.

Was there alternate endings?

Yes, but that was only because they wanted to see if rudy would change his mind. There was even scenes where a funeral was shot (obviously they didn’t air it so I’m assuming they’re saving it for s5). From March-June of 2024, they spent the entire time doing reshoots of some scenes. That is why some things don’t make sense.

Did Rudy and Madison talk on set?

Yes, but not closely or anything. They’re not friends, they just did the scenes they had to do and that was it. All those people saying they’re hiding their friendship from the cameras or whatever… that is not true sorry. The pates can’t force them to act like best friends as long as they were doing their scenes.

Why did Jiara have “less” than everybody else?

It’s true that Jiara scenes were toned down. Part of it was Rudy asking for it. Madison didn’t care as much. Another part was just Rudy and Madison not doing more than what the script asked.

Was Elaine uncomfortable with Jiara scenes?

Yes, and she has been since s2. It got worse during s3 and obviously s4. That was part of the conflict.

What is the Rudy and Madison Drama?

Obviously what happened between them is private. It wasn’t the fans. The fans were more so the catalyst to something that had been brewing. 

It is true that the girlfriends are involved and that they weren’t happy. Madison hurt Rudy, but not by being a bully. It was emotionally. The feeling was then returned on his end and it just got worse from there. It didn’t help when the girlfriends and fans were involved. It is true that it’s not a coincidence this happened when they both got involved with relationships. Most of you have speculated correctly, that is all I will say. I think you know by now what I’m trying to say.

Also when I say fans, I don’t mean the “shipping.” They never cared about that. What I do mean is that all this drama happened when Jiara fans were at their peak. Them wanting to see those characters together put Rudy and Madison in a problematic situation because they knew they couldn’t avoid each other on screen. Instead they just did so off screen.

Should the Writers/ Directors/ Producers stepped in?

Yes, but what I need you guys to understand is that these writers were basically father figures to those actors. They watched them grow their careers, supported them, made them who they are now. It’s hard when you spent so much time with each other and became a genuine family. Even their conflict with Elaine was hard because Jonas knew her family, his wife treated her like a daughter, and lilah treated her like a sister. They had every right to be bitter because from their POV, it’s basically like “hey I trusted you to bring my project to life and now I’m being forced to go in a direction I never wanted to go in.”

What’s going on behind the scenes right now?

A mess. They knew it would be bad but infact it is worse and they know that.

Am I reliable?

Honestly I don’t care if you believe me or not. You didn’t before and I got attacked (literal death threats in my inbox). I’m just a messenger. I’ve given you info before and clearly I didn’t lie about it. It’s up to you to decide.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Zutara, romance novels, and the female gaze

Okay so I’ve been thinking about the female gaze a LOT so I checked out a subreddit about romance novels, despite never having read one. I came across this meme (which was initially a Tumblr post and then got posted to Instagram and then to Reddit and I’m now bringing back to Tumblr — Internet telephone, pls never change):

And…what is The Southern Raiders, if not a platonic grovel? Katara’s pain is central to the episode. It’s central to Zuko. Zuko asks Katara what he can do to make up for his betrayal; she demands the impossible. He reads between the lines, cockblocks her brother to get the necessary information, and then waits outside her door overnight (which he also did for Iroh, the one person we know for sure he loves). He basically makes himself a receptacle for her rage, and he holds space for her by coming with her on her revenge quest and carrying their bags and not saying a damn thing about what she should and should not do beyond like…asking her to rest. And obviously the grovel works! She forgives him and then they’re thick as thieves, bantering and fighting and saving each other’s lives, etc.

On a different note, I’ve been told that enemies to lovers is one of the biggest tropes in romance novels, similar to YA lit and fanfic. Here’s something else I found in the romance novel discourse:

And…yeah. In TSR, Katara really does show Zuko her worst self, because she doesn’t feel the need to perform for him. She doesn’t feel the need to perform moral perfection OR cold blooded vengeance. She bloodbends in front of him and he just goes with it. She doesn’t kill Yon Rha and he just goes with it. He doesn’t treat her any differently afterwards. Maybe they talk about it off screen, but I kind of like the idea that they don’t, because Katara doesn’t need to explain anything. And it’s so interesting, because some people in the ATLA fandom have a totally different read on TSR. They think Zuko was encouraging Katara to get revenge (by what, keeping his mouth shut?), and that Aang is the one who acts as her moral compass. I believe that either Bryan or Mike said in the DVD commentary that Aang is the angel on her shoulder the entire time. And this interpretation does make sense if you see it from the male gaze, where Katara as an object of affection is acting in an angry, irrational, threatening way. But if you see it from the female gaze, you recognize that actually it’s probably the most emotionally taxing experience Katara has to go through, and she doesn’t owe it to be nice or perfect to anybody. Katara’s formative trauma literally comes to a head, and she has to make a decision — no, a discovery — about who she is in relation to the tragedy that defines her life and even her identity (as a waterbender, as a parentified child who becomes the mom friend, as a genocide victim), and she’s accompanied by someone who trusts her judgement and validates her feelings.

I’m not saying TSR is explicitly romantically coded, but when it conforms so well to romance novel tropes…is it any wonder that so many people thought “yes this is her man?” And then he takes lightning in the heart for her and reaches for her when he’s literally dying, I will never be normal about that either

[bunny-norris]

MONACO

LN4 x Reader

Summary: Y/N suffers a horrid date, luckily a knight in shining armour seems to be there to save the day.

Warnings: dickhead man, inappropriate touching (not detailed)

Can be made into a part two if requested - not proofread

Monaco glittered under the afternoon sun, a perfect day for lunch by the marina. Y/N smoothed out her dress and sighed, looking over at her date, Adam. She had hoped for a pleasant afternoon, but he had been insufferably rude from the start.

Y/N had been hesitant to go on this date from the very beginning. She was working in Monaco at the time, and she hadn’t been there for long. Even though she was dating, she had met someone who seemed to be interested in her, and so she went for it. But it was not going in the way she wanted.

Unwanted touches on the leg, which Y/N quickly pushed away, caused her chair to move a little bit away from him. Remarks on her looks included the following: he didn't think highly of the things she was wearing, she wasn't grinning enough for him, and her hair could have been styled a little more well. Y/N was raised to be a strong woman who ignored the opinions of others and always looked out for herself, so she knew she should speak out, but this was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was emotionally draining, and all Y/N wanted to do was run out of there and go home. She had sat there nicely, not wanting to cause a scene, wanting to get it over with.

"Excuse me," Y/N said softly, standing up to leave, clearly at her breaking point. Adam grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her back into her seat. "Don't just walk out on me," he snapped.

Y/N flinched, the grip Adam had on her arm hardening as he glared at her, clearly realizing that she was no longer wanting his company. Y/N looked around, seeing that people were beginning to stare. “Please stop, I don’t think this is going to work out, so I’m just going to go home now. Thank you for asking me on a date, but you’re not for me.” Y/N whispered, trying to jerk her arm out of his grasp.

“Excuse me,” a voice said behind Y/N. “I think the lady asked you to let her go, so I’d appreciate it if you did so.”

Adam just rolled his eyes at the man. The man was young, Y/N guessed around 23 or 24 years old, well-dressed in a white buttoned-down shirt and smart pants. He was nice-looking, and he smiled sweetly at Y/N when she turned her head to see who was talking. She smiled back, her heart rate slightly speeding up at the sight of him.

“What a waste of time,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes and letting go of Y/N’s arm. Pushing past her, Adam stormed out, leaving Y/N looking at the man who seemed to save her. “Thank you for that,” she said, smiling slightly and looking down, playing with her nails.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, his voice gentle. "That looked pretty intense."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Y/N replied, though her arm still throbbed slightly. "I’m just going to go home, I’m sorry for interrupting your lunch," she said, looking slightly behind the man to the table that he had come from, a round table full of people who Y/N believed to be his friends, all chatting away to one another, every so often looking in the man’s direction.

"Let me drive you home, it’ll be quicker, maybe get some ice on your arm," he offered, concern etched on his face.

"You don't have to. I'll be fine, I’m really sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I really appreciate what you did, you seem like a good man," she insisted, though part of her felt grateful for his offer. She turned, beginning to walk away, towards the restaurant door.

“Miss, excuse me! Miss!” the man shouted after her. Y/N turned around to face him. “Look, I know you’ve just been through a really shitty date, and the last thing you wanna do is talk to a man since I know we as a species probably seem really shit right now. But I promise, I’ll drop you off home safely and leave you be. I think you’re really pretty, and you definitely didn’t deserve to be treated like that, so I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.” The man rambled, almost out of breath, and Y/N just slightly giggled, not quite sure what to make of the man, but he seemed sweet.

“I’m still walking home,” she said, as the man looked slightly defeated. “But, if you want to walk with me, you’re welcome to join me.” She smiled and began walking, with the man quickly catching up to walk with her.

They walked together through the narrow streets of Monaco, the city bustling with life around them. Y/N glanced at her unexpected knight in shining armor. "Thank you again," she said. "I don't even know your name."

He chuckled, a bit surprised. "I'm Lando. Lando Norris."

She tilted her head, not recognizing the name. "Nice to meet you, Lando. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So, what brings you to Monaco? Other than going on terrible dates."

"I'm here for work," she explained. "I’ve been here for about a week, but I go home in a few days, so I thought, why not just ruin it by talking to shitty men.”

Lando faked a shocked face and wounded heart. “I do hope I am not in that category.”

Y/N laughed at his expression. “I guess I’ll have to decide by the time you walk me to my door. I’d rate it currently a 5 out of 10.”

“I guess I’ll have to try harder then,” Lando laughed.

As they continued to walk, they chatted about everything and nothing. Lando shared stories about his travels and racing, though he didn't mention the specifics of his career, and Y/N talked about her work and the quaint village she called home.

"I have to admit," Y/N said after a while, "Monaco is beautiful, but it can be a bit overwhelming."

"I can imagine," Lando replied. "It's a different world here. But it does have its charm."

"It does," she agreed. "Especially today."

They reached her hotel much too quickly for Y/N's liking. She turned to face Lando, feeling an unexpected pang of sadness at the thought of their walk ending. "Thank you for walking me back," she said sincerely. "And for standing up for me. It means a lot."

"Anytime," Lando replied, his eyes meeting hers. There was a spark there, an unspoken connection that neither wanted to break just yet.

Impulsively, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Lando's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered against his skin before pulling back.

Lando blinked in surprise, his hand touching the spot where her lips had been. "You're welcome," he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse.

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement. "Maybe we'll see each other again before I leave?"

"I'd like that," Lando replied, his eyes shining with hope.

With a final wave, she disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lando standing on the steps, a smile playing on his lips. There was something about Y/N that he couldn't quite forget. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the last time their paths would cross.

[sixosix]

synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.

tags slight making out scene… satoru is an asshole but what’s new, satoru is also hopelessly infatuated, all the readers i write are emotionally constipated sorry, getting together(?) fluff bit angsty tho

a/n this is a little stupid and unrealistic but bear with me because this is my first time writing in a looong time to get back in the groove of writing ^__^

Shoko wrinkled her nose as Satoru made the show of tossing a crumpled-up vending machine can into the bin on the other side of the street. It landed perfectly in the middle because why wouldn’t it? Emboldened by the impressed glances of passersby, he reached for Suguru’s pocket, where there was a balled-up paper in his bontan pants. Suguru winced when it was your head instead, where you had started crossing.

Your glare cut a thrill down Satoru’s spine. You huffed and bent down to pick up the trash, your knuckles white, like you were imagining it was Satoru’s head instead. Satoru was just appreciating how gracefully you’d bowed, the curve of your back captivating him for a moment until Suguru elbowed him.

“Stop littering,” Suguru said sternly, but his eyes spelled out that it was not about the littering.

Satoru shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it weren’t for Y/N.” 

Satoru called out after you as you dropped the paper ball into the bin directly. “Oi!” You ignored him and continued walking, a considerable distance lengthening between you and the three. “Ha, you embarrassed?”

“Anyone would be if they were seen with you,” you spat out almost reflexively, then blinked at your own words. Satoru almost swore you wanted to apologize, but you composed yourself by turning your back on him altogether.

Satoru grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “Shoko and Suguru don’t need to know I had to save your ass from a low-grade curse.”

You didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, but your shoulders tensed for a moment.

“So moody. How does your boyfriend put up with this?” Satoru snickered as he eyed the back of your head. He relished in the way a vein pops on your temple, breathed in the way you looked over your shoulder just to say—

“Shut up, Satoru. I mean it.”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with envious or hateful gazes; it came with his birth, really. Awe and fear and there are impossibles, but not for Gojo Satoru said with contempt—he didn’t care. Yours were different. He took pride in affecting people in ways where they could never ignore him, but the way you looked at him felt thrilling. He wondered if your boyfriend saw how your eyes would set ablaze for Satoru.

But he didn’t actually care, he would say. He never cared for a lot of things. It showed, at times, others would say.

“Whoa, did someone get their heart broken today?” Satoru whistled, his tone lilting upwards in what seemed to be a way to lighten the mood. No moods were lightened.

Your head whipped around to give him a look that had him frozen on the spot. His eyes widened behind his shades. He felt like that paper ball at the moment, about to be squashed flat against your palm. That look felt familiar, but not in the way that he knew he was familiar with because of you. It was familiar because of everyone else.

Suguru shot him a look that said he would’ve shoved him had it not been for his Infinity on. “Satoru.”

You walked on ahead, brushing past them with hiked-up shoulders. You looked like you were about to break at the slightest touch—it looked wrong. You had always looked so strong in Satoru’s eyes. Not stronger than him, of course, but… seeing your lip tremble like that made him itch the wrong way.

Satoru glanced between Suguru and Shoko, lost. “Am I missing something?”

Suguru said, “You didn’t hear?”

“Oh, so you know, but I don’t? What is this? Leave-out-Satoru club? You have a group chat without me?” Satoru did not mean for that to come out that bitter.

Shoko exhaled, smoke faintly billowing from her lips. She regarded Satoru with a look. “Maybe if you actually read our group chat with you, you wouldn’t be so ignorant.”

And so Satoru scrolled through his phone, wounded. Suguru and Shoko whispered among themselves as his eyebrows arched up so high that he looked elated.

“That’s it?” Satoru scoffed. “Trouble in paradise? Y/N almost got hurt by a curse because of some man?”

“Idiot,” Suguru sighed. “You’re also a man.”

Satoru knew what was going on in Shoko’s head with her expression. She was calling him trash. “They’ve been together for years. Before Y/N even met you.”

Satoru bristled. “So?”

“So don’t think of this as some chance,” Suguru said. Since when was he some love expert? “And stop terrorizing. No one brokenhearted would want to see your stupid face.”

He gaped. “So rude!”

And then he backtracked. “And I wasn’t thinking of this as a chance.” He was. “I don’t even like Y/N like that!” He does terribly. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear from that asshole non-sorcerer again. Have you heard the way he says baby? Even through the phone, it gives me the creeps.”

Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “He was an asshole.”

Shoko laughed. “That asshole got to date Y/N before you, though.”

Satoru decided to spare Shoko, feeling too delighted to let anyone ruin it.

“Did you read all the messages?” Suguru asked.

“Nah.” Satoru stared at the back of your head. “I got the gist of it seeing Suguru’s reply, ‘he was an asshole anyway.’” He flashed his teeth and quickened his pace. “Come on, before Y/N gets flung around by curses again.”

Suguru and Shoko shared a look that he missed completely.

You eyed the plastic bag Satoru was holding out distrustfully.

It was too dark already, but that was no problem for Gojo Satoru. He came here—your room, your door—with a mission in mind. That mission involved ice cream because he saw in movies that people liked to eat ice cream and cry after breakups. You weren’t crying, which relieved him, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to convince himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with tears, but he couldn’t lie to himself well when it came to you.

“Nice try,” you said, pushing it back to his chest. You startled at the cold.

“What— It’s not poison!” Satoru said. He flicked it open and showed you his gift, one you should appreciate for his efforts and thoughtfulness.

“Ice cream?” you said suspiciously. Then it dawned on you. Your lips turned up in a disbelieving smile. He'd take it much better than the look you gave him that day, even when dregs of weariness dulled your eyes. “Were you worried?”

You looked awful, which was probably the norm for someone going through a breakup from a long relationship. Satoru didn’t like your sad face at all. It pissed him off, like some puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Still, to Satoru, he supposed anything was better than not getting to see your face at all.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying before he could think about it.

Your face fell. “Satoru.”

“Just take it, or else I’ll eat it in front of you.”

Your hand gripped the door tighter.

Satoru cleared his throat. “Okay, or you can just shut the door on me and go back to sleep.” And then, silently: “You can just take it, and I’ll leave.”

You stared at him as if expecting him to take it back.

Satoru felt his face warm. “Are you gonna take it or not?”

“It creeps me out when you act nice.”

He glared. “I’m always nice, but I’m not creepy about it.”

Your shoulders relaxed. You took the bag from him with a smile that felt like a shared secret. “Do you wanna come in?”

His first thought was, holy shit, but what came out was, “Sure, I don’t care.”

He had never been in your room before. Shoko was, a lot of times, most of the time. Suguru managed to, here and there, when you needed some help with heavy lifting. You kicked Satoru every time he used to even think about it. Your room was more ordinary than he expected. No posters, flashy souvenirs, or even clothes strewn over your bed. It looked lonely.

There was a box in the corner beside your closet that looked entirely out of place. Satoru must have been staring at it for a moment too long as you said, “Those are my ex’s clothes. I stole many of it, but I don’t want to wear them anymore.”

Satoru’s curious gaze turned into distaste. “Want me to get rid of it?”

“What?” You laughed. “I’ll just give it back.”

Satoru bounded over to the box and crouched, peeling the cover open. “Why not? There’s a dumpster nearby.”

“Well, they were nice. Not my ex, I mean the clothes. Felt expensive—I’d rather he take it back.” Always the goody two shoes.

“Hmmm…” Satoru lifted his head to stare at you. “Did you like wearing them? You can borrow mine. Much better than these cheap knockoffs.”

Your eyes flashed with interest, and Satoru knew he had said the right words. His clothes were no joke.

You blinked at him, a deer in headlights holding a tub of ice cream. “Are— Are you sure? It’s not like I actually need them—”

Satoru wanted nothing more than to see you drowning in his clothes. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I don’t care.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to you. He felt a gust of cold, which should’ve been wrong to him, but he didn’t pay it any mind when you took it from him and stared at it. Your gaze shifted hesitantly between him and the red fabric. Your bottom lip started trembling before you bit it between your teeth, something Satoru wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t staring. You whirled around and shoved the tub of ice cream in your mini fridge. What a shame. He was really planning for you to share it with him.

Satoru stood up, kicking at the box. He asked, “What were you doing before I left? Boring stuff? Were you watching sad movies without ice cream? It’s a good thing I came over.”

“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” you said. You slipped into his jacket, the sight arresting him for a moment.

Satoru frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe you were feeling tired? You must have been—emotions tend to wear out a person faster than any physical means. “Hey, lie down on the bed. You look like you’re about to crash.”

“I’m not,” you muttered but followed anyway because you must have felt it, too. “I’m not.”

You winced as your head collided with your pillow. It was unusual for you to succumb to rest while Satoru lingered in the same space.

“Sorry,” Satoru choked out, suddenly feeling guilty by the strong urge to embrace you. He was already crossing far too many lines today. He didn’t want to taint your memory of heartbreak from your ex with him.

You turned to face him, your hair splayed all over the pillow. “What?”

“For yesterday. I didn’t know. This, I mean.”

“You read the messages?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“That’s it? You’re not—” You yawned, blinking. Satoru was performing the highest level of restraint at the moment. “I mean, you’re not, like…”

The air was charged with something dangerous. Satoru looked away, thinking. He wanted to ask, did you expect me to care that much? But he knew the answer to that—he does.

“Satoru,” you said lowly. He shivered at the quiet of the night and how he can almost feel your voice. “You shouldn’t be so nice to someone heartbroken. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

Satoru sat on the edge of your bed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You looked up at him. Satoru felt want in his belly. It was dangerous, he realized, for him to be alone with you like this. It was wrong—but he never went doing everything right anyway, if it meant he could watch as your eyes flutter, as you longed for something he could never have from you once the wounds on you have healed.

“Doesn’t it?” you said. “You’re confusing me, too.”

Satoru realized his Infinity had been off already, though he didn’t know when. Was it when he sat on the bed to feel the softness of your sheets? Or was it already back then, the moment you opened the door, he was already longing for you to touch him?

“You’re so cruel, Satoru,” you murmured. “I hate you.”

Weakly, Satoru said, “I know. Get some sleep. I’ll leave soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Satoru screwed his eyes shut, frustrated.

“Satoru.” He could listen to you say his name forever. You sighed his name in a way that felt like what aches in his heart whenever you even look at him.  “You didn’t read the messages, did you?”

“Did I miss something?”

“If you want to kiss me so bad, read it.”

His eyes shot open wide, a bit terrified. “What?” he said, dumbstruck. “Y/N— What?”

Clumsily, with no grace whatsoever, he fumbled with his phone, your words racing in his head. If you want to kiss me, read it. He bluescreened. If you want to kiss me—

you satoru doesnt read the messages here, right?

you i hate him if i never met him maybe i wouldnt have figured that i was not content with the love i had

you how do i even deal with this? i got dumped by my bf and he tells me if i love satoru so much why not just date him instead

you i love him can someone please comfort me

shoko oh no

shoko condolences for liking the most insufferable man on planet earth

suguru im sorry he’s an asshole you deserve better y/n

shoko the trashiest asshole are you sure about this?

you more than anything, unfortunately

Wait.

The asshole they were referring to was Satoru?

Wait.

Satoru jolts up from where he had been hunched over his phone, gaping at you. “Y/N,” he whispered reverently. “Y/N!”

You placed a hand on his chest as he moved towards you, preventing him from crashing into your space. He faltered. “Wait,” you laughed softly, languidly, beautifully, “not now. I’m sleepy.”

“No, fuck that,” he said, helpless. “Y/N!”

“It’s your fault for not reading our group chat.”

‘Kay, well. Satoru’s eyes narrowed like a cat prepared to pounce. “You can’t just make me read that and keep me from you like this. Why were you so mad at me yesterday?”

“Because I love you, and now my life is over,” you said, smiling.

“Say that again,” he demanded. 

“My life is over?”

Satoru was seconds away from crying. “Y/N, please,” he said, “say you love me again. Say it now.”

He held the hand on his chest and kissed it. Kissed it again, the back of your palm, your fingertips, repeating the same three words.

“I love you?” you said.

“Well, don’t sound so unsure about it.”

You laughed. “Do you even like me back?”

Satoru stared from the rim of his glasses. Instead of replying, he tugged you closer with your arm and kissed your jaw. He hoped you would get it—that you would understand. He loved you first.

“More than anything,” he echoed. He looked into your eyes, your lips, torn. “Please, let me kiss you. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I get a please now?”

Satoru’s eyes sharply dart down to your lips. Your grin faltered at the intensity of his stare. You swallowed, and he tracked every movement.

“You look a bit manic right now,” you said nervously.

“I’ll show you manic.”

You smiled, bumping your ankle against his back. When he glanced at it, you inched closer. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to come out and get you.

“Are you seriously going to make a move on me now? My heart is broken, Satoru.”

“Is it really?” He grinned. “Or is it just split with me?”

“Okay, smartass,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just kiss me already.”

Satoru cut the distance between the two of you. He crashed clumsily, making both of you wince, but he tilted his head and suddenly— much better. He held you closer, hoping he could wipe away any other men from your life with all he could offer—him, needy, longing, crazed.

“Satoru—” you tried, but it was swallowed by his mouth, wishing you could breathe his name from your lips to his. This was almost as good as hearing you say you love him anyway.

[thedarkdisgrace]

Ok, follow up post to the original cause I wanted to actually offer my analysis/interpretation on this.

I feel like this is a right/left brain analogy 🧵

Dazai covering his right side, the side supposedly responsible for the emotional & artistic things. It says alot about his mindset, accurate for that time.

It’s intriguing, then, Kouyou covers the “logical” side

I feel like this lends to why Chuuya & Kouyou do get along well. While both Chuuya & Kouyou are no doubt very intelligent (Asagiri literally refers to Chuuya as a genius) they both still lean very much into their emotional side as well. Even if Kouyou seemingly does so less.

Kouyou reveals herself, however, not only in her care for Chuuya but we mainly see it how she handled the situation with Kyoka.

She could have insisted Kyoka come back without ever changing her mind but when Dazai presents her with a way to save Kyoka from dark, she agrees quickly.

Kouyou clearly cares & wanted to help & protect Kyoka even if she went about it poorly. She was trying to help based on her past experiences, lest we forget that she tried to leave the mafia herself once, for *love* no less. She also tends to get emotional when talking about her past or her wish to help Kyoka.

But once she was presented with another solution, a far better one, she didn’t do “what’s best for the mafia”. Kouyou agreed to what was best for Kyoka & that was definitely a more emotional choice.

This is an area where Chuuya & Kouyou align. So, of course they would get along.

Chuuya always seems to find the balance between his logic and emotion. However, he can easily & often does lean more into his emotional side first, then his logical side.

It’s similar for Kouyou, even if we don’t see it as much from her.

Back to Dazai then, when he left the mafia & the cover on Dazai’s “emotional side” was gone Dazai seemed to also move more towards that balancing of the two sides.

He started off heavily relying on his logical brain & struggled emotionally. Often feeling numb or apathetic mostly, hence his suicidal ideation.

Then he meets Chuuya & this shifts. Chuuya forces him to experience new feelings. As Chuuya is a living breathing example of most things Dazai felt the world lacked. It opened Dazai to the idea that there is more to the world, there is more to *people*. Chuuya intrigues Dazai enough to make him want to live a little longer again. Chuuya gave him a reason to keep going, a promise of more.

From the moment he met Chuuya, it was a process of letting more & more emotions seep into his mind & his heart. We see how he feared for Chuuya in 15 even after they just met, even though Dazai *knew* it was a plan.

I might even venture to go as far as to say Dazai may not have feared for someone else’s life that hard before. It was a burst of unrecognizable emotions to him. After this, he only had more & more emotion seep in as the years went by. In Storm Bringer he was ready to sacrifice the city to give Chuuya a choice.

That relationship opened Dazai up to others later, namely Oda & Ango. Which only further encouraged the intermingling of his logical brain and his emotions. Then reaching the point at which the bandages were finally removed entirely and then he, like Chuuya, moved to striving to find the balance rather than relying on one side.

Bringing us back to current Dazai as he is still attempting to find that balance.

He still leans more towards his logical side. This, of course, in contrast to Chuuya who, while intelligent, more easily leans into the emotional.

Yet another thing between them that completes & balances each other. Soukoku will always pull the other back when drifting too far.

So, of course, Soukoku complement each other & it benefits them both.

Having Kouyou on Chuuya’s other side I think also does help Chuuya stay grounded while in the mafia. Chuuya isn’t one to lose who he is but I think having someone else who he knows *cares* like he does helps.

Now, additionally, if we apply this to Beast, I think this also says alot about beast Dazai & why Asagiri says beastzai would be the hardest for someone to portray.

Because *this* Dazai, is perhaps *too* far into his emotional side. He’s always intelligent but in beast, his actions aren’t fully logical, they’re emotional.

He appears cold & calculating as always but he saw another version of himself suffer the great loss of a best friend & allowed his emotional desire to prevent that from happening take control. Thus, his emotional side takes over, thus him covering the opposite side from canon Dazai, he’s covering his “logical” side.

I feel like this is the main difference between all the various Dazai we’ve seen.

PM Dazai relied heavily on his logical side, especially before meeting Chuuya. He rarely took emotion into account unless it involved the 3 people he actually cared for. We see him make emotional choices when it involves Chuuya, Oda, and Ango. Dazai did seem to let more and more emotion seep in over time as a result of knowing them, however, leading to that moment the bandages are removed.

Beastzai is leaning far too heavily into his emotional side, getting lost in it even. Acting solely on an emotional desire rather than a logical one. His desire to prevent a tragedy. He only was using his intellect to further that emotional desire.

Canonzai went through a steady progression, meeting Chuuya starts to open him up, this extending over time to Oda & Ango, leading to the cover on his “emotional” side being taken off.

But beastzai skipped all of that, all the *progression* to that point for canonzai & so beastzai just got all these intense emotions he never experienced before all at once when he saw canonzai’s memories & therefore he sunk far too deep, too quickly into his emotions.

Now current/ADA Dazai is the balance of the two extremes, and seemingly the closest to happiness.

ADA Dazai uses his logical brain as always but he also actually takes emotion into account as well and has more people he actually cares for now.

I think that says alot to the theme of bsd, leaning into that “everything is grey” dynamic. Everything is about the *balance* of things. Showcasing that anything in extremes in either direction doesn’t work.

Anyway, just some thoughts I had and interpretations of mine. Take them as you want, as always.

Oh and just to be clear, I don’t think Dazai was ever “emotionless”, even at his worse. Even if he was numb and apathetic. He was also lonely.

Just saying the more people he came to care about (Chuuya, Oda, Ango then later the ADA) the more he was able to feel a variety of emotion.

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