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[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER TEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ a rooftops panoramic view should be a beautiful sight, key word, should.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, near death experience, choking, violence, alot of angst, mentions of bullying, depression, some fluff, mentions of puking, reoccuring ptsd, exclusion, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

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from his perch atop the air conditioner unit, joonyeong's voice rings out once more, "the 'o' is too narrow, y/n-ah!" his words hang in the air like a challenge, marking the 13th time he's sent you back to the drawing board to tweak the s.o.s sign. you bite back a sigh, your patience wearing thin. wujin, sensing your frustration, lets out a low chuckle. you shoot him a sidelong glance, shaking your head in exasperation. "if he tells me to fix this one more time," you whisper, a mischievous glint in your eye, "i'm stealing his glasses and hiding them." the comment sets wujin and daesu off into fits of laughter, their heads thrown back in amusement.

as the laughter dies down, the group refocuses on the task at hand, their movements a testament to their determination. you grab a rusty old pipe, hoping to use it as a makeshift straightedge, while wujin rummages through a nearby pile of discarded boxes, searching for something, anything, to use. daesu, meanwhile, is attempting to macgyver a makeshift paintbrush from a bundle of frayed wires and a mangled feather duster.

joonyeong, still perched atop the air conditioner, oversees the operation with a keen eye, offering words of encouragement and criticism in equal measure. "no, no, no! the ‘o’ needs to be more circular! and what's with the gap between the ‘s’s? we need to make it better!" as the group works, the rooftop around them begins to resemble a junkyard, with scraps of metal, broken appliances, and shattered glass scattered about. but amidst the chaos, a sense of camaraderie prevails, their shared goal of creating the perfect s.o.s sign binding them together in their quest for survival.

as you crouch beside a pile of rusty scraps, trying to fashion a makeshift stencil, a sudden discomfort strikes your lower abdomen. your bladder, long neglected, protests with a dull ache. you wince, realizing it's been over 24 hours since you last used the restroom. feeling a mix of embarrassment and urgency, you glance around at your companions, hoping to find a sympathetic ear.

you catch wujin's eye, trying to convey your distress without alerting joonyeong, who's still barking instructions from his perch. wujin raises an eyebrow, sensing something amiss, and you subtly nod past the rooftop door, hoping he'll take the hint. to your relief, he nods almost imperceptibly and mouths, "me too." daesu, oblivious to your predicament, continues to tinker with his makeshift paintbrush, but wujin excuses himself, saying, "hey, joonyeong, we need to... uh... scout for more materials. yeah, that's it." joonyeong barely acknowledges the comment, too engrossed in the s.o.s sign's imperfections.

with wujin leading the way, you make a discreet exit, trying to ignore the growing pressure in your bladder as you head towards the other side of the roof that a bunch of obstacles to cover you both, hoping to find a safe place or, at the very least, a secluded spot to relieve yourselves.

wujin, already in his chosen hiding spot, a narrow alleyway between two large ventilation units, calls out in a hushed tone, "hey, you okay over there? find a good spot?" his voice is muffled, but laced with amusement, clearly entertained by the absurdity of your situation. you grit your teeth, wrestling with the recalcitrant zipper, your hand trembling with urgency. "yeah, yeah, just... just give me a minute," you reply, trying to keep your voice down, but frustration seeping into your tone.

"fuck, please not now," you mutter under your breath, tugging at the zipper with increasing desperation. it's as if the universe has conspired against you, denying you even this small measure of relief. just as you're about to give up, the zipper finally yields, sliding down with a soft rasp.

as the warm stream finally begins to flow, you breathe a sigh of deep relief, feeling the tension melt away from your body. the sensation is almost euphoric, and you can't help but moan softly, the sound barely audible over the gentle patter of your urine hitting the rooftop. “fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes, savoring the moment. the discomfort and urgency of the past hour seem to wash away, replaced by a sense of blissful release.

wujin's muffled laughter carries over from the other side of the ventilation unit, and you can't help but join in, a soft, relieved chuckle escaping your lips. "shut up," you warn, "you're enjoying this way too much." the sound of wujin's amusement continues, a gentle accompaniment to the symphony of sounds on the rooftop – the hum of the air conditioner, the distant rumble of the city, and the sweet, sweet sound of relief.

you hear the unmistakable sound of wujin's belt buckle clicking back into place, signaling he's finished and already moving on. you quicken your pace, hurrying to finish up and tuck yourself back into your pants. but, as fate would have it, your zipper decides to malfunction once again.

"you've gotta be joking" you whisper, frustration creeping into your voice as the zipper gets stuck, refusing to budge. you try to wiggle it, coax it, and even bribe it, but it remains stubbornly stuck. wujin's gaze meets yours, his expression softening slightly as he asks, "are you finished?" his tone is gentle, but you sense a hint of teasing still lurking beneath the surface.

you hesitate, unsure of how to respond. a part of you wants to ask for his help, to let him assist you in freeing yourself from the clutches of the stuck zipper. but another part, a part that remembers the pain of past betrayals, warns you to be cautious. memories long buried begin to resurface, like a floodgate opened in your mind. you recall the days when wujin and you were inseparable, sharing secrets and laughter, until the whispers started. people began to call you gay, and wujin, once your closest friend, started to distance himself. the pain of his rejection still lingers, a scar that never fully healed.

you look away, trying to shake off the memories, but they linger, casting a shadow over the present moment. "i... i think i've got it," you stammer, trying to sound convincing, but your voice betrays your uncertainty. wujin's expression changes, his eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the sudden tension. "hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his tone softer now, but you're unsure if you're ready to confront the ghosts of your past. your mind races with panic as you imagine wujin thinking you're trying to make a move on him. the thought alone makes your heart sink, and you desperately want to reassure him that's not the case. but words fail you, and you remain silent, your face burning with anxiety.

with a surge of adrenaline, you try to force the zipper down, then up again, wincing as it digs into your skin. your injured hand throbs in protest, but you grit your teeth, determined to avoid any further awkwardness. "just... just give me a minute," you mutter, trying to sound calm, but your voice cracks under the strain.

wujin's expression turns concerned, but he doesn't move closer, seemingly unsure of how to react. "hey, do you need some help?" he asks again, his tone gentle, but you sense a hint of wariness. you shake your head vigorously, trying to convey that you're fine, even though you're far from it. the zipper creaks ominously, threatening to break at any moment, but you keep tugging, your hands shaking with frustration and fear. the silent plea echoes in your mind as you struggle with the zipper, your face burning with embarrassment.

wujin's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you struggling with the zipper, your face red with effort and embarrassment. for a moment, he looks away, his expression awkward, as if unsure of how to react. but then, his face sets in a determined expression, and he strides towards you with a confident air. "lemme do it, it'll be faster," he says, his voice firm, but with a hint of gentle coaxing.

you feel a surge of relief mixed with anxiety as he approaches, his hands reaching out to take control of the zipper. your mind races with thoughts of what this could mean, but you push them aside, focusing on the practicality of the situation. "th-thanks," you stutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrays your nervousness. wujin's fingers brush against yours as he takes hold of the zipper, sending a spark of anxiety through your body. you try to ignore it, telling yourself you dont want to send the wrong idea.

with a few quick, deft movements, wujin frees the zipper from its tangled prison, his hands moving with a precision that makes your heart skip a beat. "there," he says, stepping back, a hint of a smile on his face. "all fixed."

just as you're about to express your gratitude, suhyeok's voice rings out, "yah, y/n-ah! where’d you..?" he turns the corner, his eyes suddenly scanning the scene before him. your heart sinks as suhyeok's gaze lingers on wujin's hands, still resting on your zipper, and your face, still flushed from the struggle. an irritated and hurt glint sparks in suhyeok's eye, and a mournful look spreads across his face. suhyeok's expression in alarm, his eyes darting between you and wujin as if trying to process what he's seeing. the air is thick with tension as he stands there, frozen. you clear your throat, trying to break the silence, and scratch the back of your head, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. wujin, still trying to defend himself, takes a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"it's not... i mean... i wasn't..." wujin stammers, his eyes flicking between you and suhyeok before trailing off. he forces a laugh, awkward and unconvincing, and takes another step back, creating distance between you.

suhyeok's glare intensifies, his eyes narrowing at wujin as if daring him to continue. the silence stretches out, uncomfortable and heavy, before suhyeok speaks, "looks like i interrupted something," suhyeok says, his voice dripping with insecurity. finally turns and stalks off, leaving you and wujin alone once more. you look down, embarrassment burning your face, and mutter a quiet, "great." wujin's eyes meet yours, a mix of apology and discomfort in their depths, before he turns and follows suhyeok, leaving you to wonder what just happened.

you take a deep breath and focus on composing yourself. you smooth out your clothes, tucking in any wrinkles or creases, and run a hand through your hair to tidy it up. with a final check to make sure you look presentable, you set off at a jog to catch up to wujin and suhyeok.

as you run, you can't help but replay the awkward encounter in your head. you cringe at the memory of suhyeok's irritation and wujin's flustered reaction. but you push the thoughts aside and focus on catching up to your friends. suhyeok storms off, his annoyance high, while wujin hurries after him, trying to explain. "suhyeok, wait! it's not what you think! he just needed help with his zipper, that's all!" you watch them for a moment before stopping in your tracks. "yah!" you call out, your voice firm but calm. suhyeok freezes, his back still to you, while wujin turns around, knowing you're not addressing him.

you begin walking towards suhyeok, your eyes locked on his towering form. "don't let your imagination run wild before you have the facts," you say, your voice even and measured. as you pass by suhyeok, you turn to face him, still walking backwards. "sorry, wujin-ah. i only see you as a friend," you clarify, but not to him, your gaze flicking to suhyeok for a brief moment before returning to wujin. with that, you turn and continue walking away, leaving the two of them to process your words. suhyeok's anger seems to deflate, replaced by a mixture of confusion and curiosity. wujin looks relieved, but also a bit amusement. he gives a thumbs up with a panted, “thank god.”

you approach the group, realizing you only explained the situation to suhyeok because you didnt want him to think wujin was gay. last thing you needed was more rumors for someone, now giggling to yourself about the earlier misunderstanding. as you reach daesu and onjo, you notice they're in the middle of a heated discussion. "that makes no sense," daesu scoffs, leaning down to mess with the pieces of wood leftover from their earlier project. onjo pouts, her face scrunched up in a frown. "yah, if you wouldn't believe me, why did you even ask?" she shoots back, her voice rising. daesu's expression turns defensive, and he matches onjo's volume. "cause you don't know!" he insists, his words overlapping with hers.

you watch the exchange, amused by their dynamic. they remind you of siblings, always bickering and teasing each other. you can't help but smile at their familiarity. "what's going on?" you ask, inserting yourself into their conversation. daesu and onjo pause, turning to face you. they both look expectant, as if waiting for you to referee their argument.

"daesu doesn't think," onjo says, her tone still slightly petulant. "but she's not making any sense!" daesu protests, throwing up his hands. you chuckle, shaking your head. "what is it?" you ask, trying to mediate their disagreement. onjo begins saying she tried to explain to daesu that s.o.s means nothing but daesu refuses to believe her. even though he had asked for her opinion in the first place. you begin to think, scratching your head before speaking, “i thought it meant ‘save our souls’.” your words laced with confusion.

onjo's eyes widen in frustration. "no, no! that's not it at all! it's just a nonsense phrase, a myth. it doesn't mean anything!" daesu snorts. "you're just not smart enough to understand it, onjo."

onjo takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "i looked it up, okay? and it's just a myth. it doesn't have any real meaning." daesu scoffs. "you and your 'research'... i don't believe it." you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. cheongsan then enters the conversation, “shes 100% right. it doesn't mean anything, why don't you believe her?” he asks daesu. you raise your brows as cheongsan quickly stands up for her, to which onjo nods proudly.

daesu's gaze shifts between the two, his curiosity getting the better of him. he rises from his place and ambles over to namra, a hint of a smile on his face. "hey, prez," he says, seeking her expertise. onjo's eyes flash with annoyance as she springs to her feet. "that jerk," she mutters under her breath, her reaction so endearing that you can't help but smile. you've never noticed how much she embodies the role of a little sister, and it's almost charming.

you make your way over to jimin and hroryeong, who stand together, a united front. "you guys okay?" you ask softly, concern etched on your face. jimin looks up at you, a hint of exasperation in her eyes. "really?" she asks, her tone laced with annoyance, as she continues to soothe hroryeong. you hold up your uninjured hand in a calming gesture before turning to walk away, not wanting to spark any more unnecessary arguments. you'd rather not be the catalyst for further conflict.

as you suddenly watch, onjo's tiny frame darts out, her foot connecting with cheongsan's leg in a swift kick. he yelps in surprise, his momentum halted as he falls to the ground. the group gasps, shocked by her sudden move. onjo gestures to the others, her expression nonchalant. "come on, let's start a fire. it's gonna be dark soon." you stroll over to cheongsan, a grin still plastered on your face. he looks up at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "for a small girl, she's pretty strong, huh?" you chuckle.

cheongsan's hurt gaze lingers on your face, his expression puzzled. he's never seen you like this before - relaxed, carefree, and almost... happy. his memories of you are etched with a gloomy, solemn demeanor, a stark contrast to the person standing before him now. even in the face of adversity, you seem to have found a glimmer of joy.

"what?" cheongsan asks, confusion etched on his face as you continue to stare at the group with an enigmatic smile. "nothing, it's just funny," you reply, your eyes still fixed on the others as you giggle to yourself once more. cheongsan smirks, his expression laced with disbelief. "i think you're delirious," he teases, his laughter mingling with yours as you both walk away from the group. the absurdity of onjo's kick and the group's dynamics has somehow lifted the gloom, and for a moment, you're able to find humor in the midst of adversity.

the group toils away for nearly 20 minutes, gathering twigs, leaves, and other flammable materials, attempting to create a spark through sheer friction. just as frustration begins to set in, namra casually reaches into her pocket and produces a sleek lighter. "wait, you had that the whole time?" daesu asks, incredulous, as namra nonchalantly lights the fire. the group stares at her, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. onjo's eyes widen, "namra, you smoke?" namra shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "occasionally." the group's perception of their perfect class president begins to shift. she's not as squeaky clean as they thought. a hint of rebellion lurks beneath her polished exterior. jimin raises an eyebrow, "i didn't know you were a smoker, namra.

namra's smile grows, "there's a lot you don't know about me, jimin." the fire crackles to life, casting a warm glow over the group as they settle in for the night.

the group sits in a circle around the fire, the warm flames casting a golden glow on their faces. you find yourself nestled between cheongsan and jimin, the three of you forming a cozy line. the silence is unique, punctuated only by the occasional gust of wind that rustles through the trees. the group's eyes gaze into the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames. as the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforms into a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and purples. the colors deepen, and the darkness gradually engulfs the group, like a soft blanket.

the fire crackles and spits, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. the group's faces are illuminated only by the warm glow of the flames, making them appear like silhouettes. cheongsan shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. jimin's eyes remain fixed on the fire, her expression contemplative. the quiet is comfortable, a sense of camaraderie settling over the group. they're united in their struggle, bound together by the shared experience of survival. as the darkness deepens, the stars begin to twinkle above, like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse. the group's breathing slows, their eyes growing heavy, lulled by the warmth and comfort of the fire.

your eyelids grow heavier, the warmth of the fire and the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. the flickering flames seem to blur, and the quiet murmurs of the group fade into the background. you try to fight it, but your head nods forward, your chin dipping towards your chest. cheongsan's shoulder provides a comfortable resting place, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body.

jimin's voice is a distant whisper, "he never really told us where he was, when he left the group. hes probably exhausted." your eyes droop further, the darkness closing in around you. the fire's warmth and the group's presence lull you into a sense of security, and you let yourself drift off, surrounded by the quiet companionship of your fellow survivors. as you succumb to sleep, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional crackle of the fire are the last things you hear, a soothing lullaby that carries you away into the darkness.

cheongsan's face contorts in a mixture of surprise and fluster as you lean into him, his eyes darting to onjo, who's watching the scene with amusement. onjo's giggles escape her lips, and she covers her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter. just as cheongsan's face is about to turn bright red, the sound of singing wafts through the air, captivating everyone's attention. daesu's melodious voice rises and falls in a hauntingly beautiful tune, his words indistinguishable but the emotion palpable.

your eyes flutter open, drawn to daesu's figure, silhouetted against the darkness. the fire's warm glow casts a golden light on his face, his eyes closed, lost in the music. the group's mesmerized, their faces tilted upwards, drinking in the beauty of daesu's voice. even onjo's giggles have ceased, replaced by a soft, wonder-filled expression. cheongsan's fluster forgotten, he too is entranced, his gaze fixed on daesu. you feel his shoulder relax beneath your head.

you gently lift your head off cheongsan's shoulder, whispering a soft apology, "sorry about that.” cheongsan smiles, his eyes still closed, and whispers back, "it's okay, sleep if you need to." but sleep is the last thing on your mind as daesu's song weaves a spell around the group. somehow, without words, everyone knows the melody, and their voices begin to blend in harmony. onjo's sweet soprano soars above the others, while jimin's rich alto adds depth to the sound. namra's gentle hum provides a soothing background, and even cheongsan's rougher tone blends in perfectly. the music swells, a beautiful, wordless chant that fills the night air. daesu's voice rises above the others, guiding the melody, as the group's voices merge into a stunning harmony. you join in, your voice blending with the others, creating a magical sound that seems to lift your spirits and connect you all in a way that transcends words.

the music builds, a crescendo of hope and resilience, a testament to the power of unity and the human spirit. as the last notes fade away, the group falls silent, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire.

the song's final notes linger in the air, leaving behind a comfortable silence. the group sits in stillness, basking in the warmth of the moment. then, hroryeong breaks the silence, her voice gentle, "that was such a nice song." daesu turns to her, a hint of mischief in his eyes, "didn't you say it sucked?" you stifle a laugh, anticipating hroryeong's response. hroryeong's face remains calm, a small smile playing on her lips, "well, now that i actually listened to it, i think it's kind of nice."

the group erupts into laughter, daesu's teasing grin met with hroryeong's playful shrug. the tension is broken, and the atmosphere remains light, filled with the warmth of friendship and shared moments. onjo chuckles, "hroryeong, you're such a critic." hroryeong's smile widens, "hey, someone's got to keep daesu's ego in check." daesu mock-offended, "my ego's just fine, thanks for asking." the banter continues, a gentle, easygoing exchange that fills the night with laughter and camaraderie.

you lean back, using your good arm to support yourself, and gaze up at the sky. the smoke from the fire wafts upwards, disappearing into the vast expanse of stars. the celestial canvas stretches above, a twinkling tapestry of light and shadow.

the beauty of the night sky hits you like a gentle breeze, soothing your soul. it's surreal to think that such tranquility can exist after the chaos and tragedy that unfolded just days prior. as you lie there, you realize that you've never taken the time to truly appreciate nature's splendor. life got in the way, and you were always too caught up in the hustle and bustle to stop and smell the roses. but now, in this moment, you make a silent promise to yourself to change that. you want to experience more of this beauty, to find solace in the simple things, and to never take the world's wonders for granted again. the stars seem to twinkle in agreement, their gentle sparkle a reminder of the magic that surrounds you. you feel a sense of peace settle over you, a sense of connection to something greater than yourself. as you gaze up at the stars, you know that this is just the beginning of a new chapter in your life – one where you'll cherish the beauty in the world and find joy in the everyday moments.

onjo's question hangs in the air, drawing everyone's attention to namra. "how long have you been smoking for?" she asks, curiosity etched on her face. the group's gaze shifts to namra, awaiting her response. for a moment, she just stares, her eyes fixed on some distant point. then, her voice barely above a whisper, she reveals, "since eighth grade." the group sits in silence, their faces filled with a mix of surprise and understanding. namra's eyes drop, her gaze falling to the ground.

"i had no friends and a lot of stress back then," she continues, her voice laced with vulnerability. "it was my way of coping, i guess." the group's expression softens, their faces filled with empathy. they see namra in a new light, beyond the perfect class president facade. they see a person who's struggled, who's found solace in a habit she can't shake.

onjo's question hangs in the air, piercing the silence. "did you ever need a friend, though?" namra's gaze drifts off, her eyes clouding over as she searches for an answer. the seconds tick by, and just when you think she won't respond, she whispers, "i'm not sure. i can't really tell."

her words strike a chord within you. you can't help but think back to those countless days when you and namra sat beside each other in class, both of you lost in your own worlds. you both needed a friend, yet never reached out to each other. the irony isn't lost on you. you were so close, yet so far apart. you wonder what would have happened if you had spoken up, if you had taken the first step towards friendship. the fire crackles, breaking the silence. namra's eyes refocus, her gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. you sense a flicker of understanding, a shared acknowledgment of what could have been.

the moment passes, but the memory lingers, a bittersweet reminder of the connections we miss, and the friendships we never forge. onjo's words cut through the silence, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and accusation. "you always put up a wall. you'd wear earphones all day and you never said anything." you feel a twinge of discomfort, your gaze drifting away from namra's intense stare. onjo's words strike a chord, and you can't help but think about your own behavior back then.

"wasn't it because you hated us?" onjo finishes, her question hanging in the air like a challenge. namra's expression remains enigmatic, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the fire. the silence stretches out, heavy with unspoken emotions. you can't help but wonder if namra will open up, if she'll reveal the truth behind her aloofness. the anticipation high, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for her response.

the fire crackles, the only sound in the tense silence. namra's gaze finally shifts, her eyes locking onto onjo's, and you sense a hint of vulnerability lurking beneath the surface.

onjo's straightforward question hangs in the air, and everyone's eyes avert the two girls, sensing the intensity of the moment. but namra doesn't waver, her gaze steady as she turns to face onjo. "i never hated you guys," she says, her voice clear and firm. "i just..." she pauses, her eyes drifting to yours, and you sense a flicker of vulnerability. you offer a small, reassuring smile, encouraging her to continue. "never had any friends," namra finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

the group's collective gaze returns, their faces filled with a mix of surprise and understanding. the silence that follows is no longer tense, but rather, compassionate. you feel a sense of connection to namra, knowing that you both shared a similar experience. you realize that sometimes, people put up walls not because they hate others, but because they're afraid of being hurt or rejected. namra's gaze lingers on yours, and you sense a hint of gratitude, a silent thank you for understanding. the moment hangs in the air, a fragile bond forming between you and namra, one that could potentially blossom into something more.

hroryeong's words spill out, a mix of confession and vulnerability. "well, i never really liked you," she says, her eyes fixed on namra. "i thought you didn't talk to us because we were beneath you." namra's expression remains neutral, but her eyes betray a hint of hurt. she waits for hroryeong to continue, her silence inviting more truth.

joonyeong's sudden admission shocks the group, his words laced with a raw honesty. "i kind of hated you," he says, his gaze avoiding namra's. "there were times that i wished you would just disappear."

the group's attention snaps to joonyeong, surprise etched on their faces. you can't help but wonder why he would harbor such feelings towards namra, especially since they never spoke. ulterior motives surface as jimin asks, "aren't you close? you're the top two students?" her confusion is palpable. joonyeong's response is swift, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. "that's why i hated her. no matter how hard i worked, i was always second."

you can't help but feel a pang of regret. your grades were never something to brag about, and you wish you could say you worked hard but struggled. but the truth is, you didn't have the energy to try in school. it's a regret that still lingers. namra's expression remains calm, but her eyes flicker with a hint of understanding. she knows the weight of expectations, the pressure to perform. the group's silence is heavy with unspoken thoughts, their faces reflecting a mix of surprise and contemplation. the dynamics between joonyeong and namra have shifted, the air thick with a newfound understanding. onjo breaks the silence, her voice gentle. "i never knew, joonyeong. i'm sorry." joonyeong's gaze drops, his shoulders sagging slightly. "it's not your fault, onjo. it's just...namra was always the standard i couldn't reach."

joonyeong's words are laced with a newfound acceptance. "but it's okay now. i think i was able to come in second, because of namra." he nods confidently, a small smile on his face. you can't help but smile at his last thought, the tension in the group dissipating. daesu chimes in, his voice filled with a mock seriousness. "hey, seconds good too." everyone nods in agreement, a chorus of assent. daesu turns to suhyeok, his expression solemn. "i can't even be 20th, right?" suhyeok nods in solidarity, and they share a fist bump, their faces comically sad.

hroryeong tries to uplift joonyeong, but her words come out awkwardly, "hey, don't compare yourself to joonyeong." joonyeong's face falls, and he pouts, "what? i was just saying. why do you always get on my case whenever i say something?"

hroryeong rolls her eyes, exasperated, but daesu seizes the moment, a mischievous glint in his eye. "wait a second, do you like me?" he asks, his tone playful. hroryeong's response is immediate, a slap on daesu's arm. "shut up, you moron!" the group chuckles, amused by the exchange. undeterred, daesu continues, "i'm going to put it out there, so you don't get hurt. i like somebody else. so don't like me."

hroryeong punches his arm again, her face flushed. "i don't like you! i also have a crush, and it's not you!" the group's laughter grows louder, their eyes fixed on the banter between daesu and hroryeong. jimin's curiosity gets the better of her, "hm? you never told me you had a crush?" she asks hroryeong, her voice tinged with surprise. hroryeong's fingers fidget, her eyes cast downward before she sheepishly looks up, trying to meet yours. "it's newly developed," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

you realize, with a start, that you were the only one oblivious to hroryeong's crush, too busy adding wood to the fire to notice the subtle cues. suhyeok stifles a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the realization. joonyeong's curiosity is piqued, "yah, daesu, who do you like, then?" he asks, his voice filled with excitement. daesu's grin is mischievous, wujin suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with amusement. "he's crazy," he said, pointing to daesu. "he has a crush on my sister."

jimin's eyes widened in surprise. "hari-unnie from the archery team?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. daesu's face turned bright red as he confessed, "i get a little crazy when i'm in love. she's like my own personal cupid." you couldn't help but cringe at his words, but you quickly covered it up with a laugh. however, daesu caught the laugh and misinterpreted it. "hey, don't make fun of my love," he scolded, his tone playful but slightly defensive. you held up your hands in a calming gesture, still smiling. "love whoever you want, i don't care," you said, returning to feeding the fire.

daesu's eyes lock onto joonyeongs, a curious glint sparkling in their depths. he then looks towards wujin, who shakes his head in a silent plea to stop. but joonyeong, seemingly oblivious to the tension, nods his head encouragingly towards you. daesu's eyes dart back and forth, his gaze finally settling on you. he takes a deep breath before speaking in a robotic tone, "speaking of love... how's your love life, y/n?"

wujin lets out a sigh, his eyes rolling heavenward in exasperation. you, on the other hand, feel a nervous gulp rise up in your throat as everyone's attention focuses on you. the group's collective gaze is like a weight on your skin, making your heart race with anticipation. you can't help but wonder what daesu's motives are, and why he's suddenly so interested in your love life. the silence stretches out, heavy with expectation, as you struggle to form a response.

"um.." you start, looking around the fire at the expectant faces. "i would say nonexistent." you try to add a small laugh to ease the blow, but it still creates an odd atmosphere. wujin curses under his breath at daesu for putting everyone in this situation. daesu, however, seems oblivious to the tension he's caused. just as it feels like the silence is going to stretch on forever, jimin breaks the tension. "y/n-ah.." she says, her voice soft and gentle. you turn towards her, and she looks at you with a curious expression, blinking for a second as if gathering her courage. you know what she wants to ask, so you wait for it calmly. "are you really... gay?" she whispers the word, afraid someone might hear.

the question hangs in the air, and you can feel the weight of everyone's attention on you. you take a deep breath, preparing to respond. wujin speaks up, his voice firm, "yah, that's none of our business-" but you cut him off, not wanting him to get worked up on your behalf. "it's okay, i got it," you say with a small smile, appreciative of wujin's defense. daesu, sensing wujin's tension, rubs his back in a calming gesture. you turn back to jimin, a sheepish nod accompanying your words, "i am."

jimin's response is simple, a soft "oh.." with a nod of her own. the lack of judgment or surprise in her voice puts you at ease. the group falls silent once more, but this time it's not awkward. it's as if they're all processing this new information, trying to understand. daesu breaks the silence, his voice gentle, "we're cool with it, y/n. you're still the same person." the others nod in agreement, their faces filled with acceptance and support. you feel a sense of relief wash over you, grateful for their understanding.

you return to feeding the fire, trying to focus on the crackling flames. jimin looks back at you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. she wants to ask another question, one that everyone else seems eager to know the answer to. however, her gaze aligns with onjo, who subtly shakes her head, warning jimin not to ask. jimin hesitates, but her curiosity gets the better of her. "who was it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

your head snaps towards her, "what?" you ask, trying to play dumb. jimin sighs, knowing she's pushing her luck. "who was the person you confessed to?" she asks slowly, her eyes locked onto yours. you look away, the fire that once warmed you now feels suffocating. the heat rises to your face as you grow quiet, unsure of how to respond. "i mean, you can tell us, y/n-ah," daesu says, trying to reassure you. "it's not like they can hear us."

daesu chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. "yeah, we're okay that you're gay, so don't feel pressured," joonyeong adds, his voice gentle as he fixes his glasses. your gaze meets joonyeong's, and your heart skips a beat. his words touch a deep part of your soul, and you feel a lump form in your throat. you thank him with teary eyes, never having heard such acceptance before. you refuse to let your tears fall, but it's clear that joonyeong's words have struck a chord.

hroryeong's facepalms, finally realizing the implications of the conversation. daesu tries to comfort her, but his attention is quickly diverted as the group waits with bated breath for your answer. you hesitate, fumbling with your vest-sling before speaking. the silence is almost deafening, until three people speak at the same time.

"i-it was..." you start, but are cut off by onjo’s attempt to intervene, "guys maybe we should..." but the loudest voice is suhyeok's, "me." your eyes widen in shock, knowing who the voice belongs to but refusing to make eye contact. everyone turns towards suhyeok, who looks up with a mixture of shame and guilt. "what?" wujin asks in surprise, his voice echoing the group's confusion.

the atmosphere is electric, with all eyes on suhyeok. it's clear that he's the one you confessed to, and the group is struggling to process this new information. daesu's eyes dart between you and suhyeok, his expression a mix of shock and curiosity. hroryeong looks like she's been punched in the gut, her face pale. joonyeong's eyes are fixed on suhyeok, his expression unreadable. the silence stretches out, heavy with tension, as the group waits for someone to break the silence.

jimin's eyes widen in shock as she points between you and suhyeok, "you? you and you?" she asks, her voice trembling with disbelief. onjo looks like she's been punched in the gut, her eyes fixed on you with a mix of shock and confusion. she had no idea you had feelings for suhyeok, let alone be the one you confessed to. suhyeok nods, his eyes cast downward, "i... i was stupid back then." he mutters, excusing himself from the conversation.

joonyeong's hands are outstretched, as if ready to physically receive the answer, "why did you do it?" he asks, his voice laced with frustration. "what? do what?" suhyeok asks, confusion etched on his face.

jimin's voice rises, her tone threatening, "you know what he's asking you, why did you set him up?" cheongsan tries to intervene, telling her to calm down, but she ignores him. suhyeok's face reddens with anger, "i didn't set him up!" he shouts, his voice echoing through the forest. "they just showed up that day, i didn't know they found the note. i just wanted..." he trails off, his frustration noticeable. you try to intervene, your voice barely above a whisper, "i'd rather not talk about it anymore, guys..." but it's drowned out by the tension between suhyeok and jimin. the group's dynamics have shifted, alliances are being tested, and secrets are spilling out.

jimin's arms are crossed, her expression stern, "if i were y/n, i would never speak to you again." she says, offended on your behalf once more. suhyeok's eyes plead for your forgiveness, but you refuse to meet his gaze. "i tried to go see him," he says, his voice softer now. "but he would dodge me every chance he got. it was all a big misunderstanding. i've been trying to make it up to him these past few days-"

hroryeong cuts him off, her voice firm, "yah! we don't forgive you that easily!" she says, her arms crossed, mirroring jimin's stance. wujin and daesu exchange confused glances, "y/n isn't a girl..." wujin says, trying to correct hroryeong. hroryeong huffs, "yeah, but he likes... boys, so he probably thinks the same way. it's frustrating with you guys," she says, her expression exasperated. daesu and wujin look at each other, offended by hroryeong's assumption.

joonyeong's sudden apology catches you off guard, "i'm sorry for never speaking to you." he says, his eyes sincere. you shake your head, trying to brush it off, "it's in the past." but joonyeong insists, "no, i think... i think we all owe you an apology." he gestures to the group, and one by one, they offer their soft apologies. you nod awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, as you continue to feed the fire. wujin's apology is the most heartfelt, "i should be the most sorry." he says, as he plays with his shoelace. "i'm sorry, y/n-ah, i left you when you needed me the most." his voice cracks as he sniffles, trying to hold back his emotions.

"i didn't realize until now how much of a bad friend i was." he admits, his eyes red-rimmed. "but, i can promise you now i will forever be your good friend, if you'll have me." the sincerity in wujin's words makes your heart ache, and you look up to the sky, trying to hold back your tears. the weight of their apologies and the pain of the past few days is almost too much to bear.

why is it that today's words are cutting deeper than any other? you wonder, as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. you nod, a small smile on your face, "i forgive you." the three words are simple, yet they hold so much weight. wujin's face lights up with a warm smile, and he nods back, relief washing over him. but amidst this heartwarming moment, suhyeok's eyes gleam with a mix of emotions - regret, longing, and determination. he knows that he's been longing to hear those exact words, but you've given them to wujin, your childhood friend.

suhyeok's gaze falls, and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenched. he knows now that he has to make up for what he did, to earn back your trust and forgiveness. the journey ahead won't be easy, but he's determined to try. the atmosphere around the campfire is filled with a sense of closure, new beginnings, and unspoken promises. the night air is filled with the crackling of the fire, and the weight of words left unspoken.

onjo gently intervenes, "how about someone else goes?" she suggests, expertly steering the conversation in a new direction. you're grateful for the change in subject. "i'll go," jimin says, her voice carrying through the night air. you turn to her, intrigued, as she begins to share her story. "my mom and dad prepped everything for my transfer. they said to just go to seoul." she explains, her voice laced with a mix of emotions.

"but i really didn't wanna go there. i wouldn't have any friends, and i was afraid of the seoul kids," she admits, her vulnerability palpable. you nod, actively listening, as she continues. "onjo gave me a great idea, to miss school for five days so the principal couldn't write me a recommendation letter. it's all thanks to onjo that i didn't transfer." she says, her eyes flicking to onjo, who smiles warmly.

"but... i should've just went to seoul," jimin adds, her voice tinged with regret. "then none of this would've happened." onjo's smile falters, and she looks down, her eyes welling up with tears. you speak up, trying to offer comfort, "you can't focus on the past, i think you were meant to be here, with us." jimin's eyes water at your words, and she slowly nods, looking away, trying to compose herself. the group falls silent, each lost in their own thoughts, as the night air is filled with the sound of crackling flames and the weight of shared secrets.

wujin's voice breaks the silence, "people have always said... my sister was an archery prodigy ever since she was little." a hint of sadness creeps into his tone. you look up, memories flooding your mind. you remember playing in wujin's room, his older sister watching over you both with a warm smile.

"so our parents only cared about trying to get my sister onto the national team," wujin continues, his eyes drifting away, lost in thought. his voice is laced with a mix of sadness and longing. you sense a deep-seated pain in wujin's words, a feeling of being overlooked and underappreciated. his parents' focus on his sister's archery career seems to have come at the cost of his own emotional well-being. the group listens intently, offering silent support as wujin shares his story. the night air is filled with the weight of unspoken emotions, and the crackling of the fire seems to echo the turmoil in wujin's heart.

wujin shakes his head, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "they've never paid attention to me at all." he admits, his eyes cast downward. daesu, ever the charmer, tries to lighten the mood, placing a hand on wujin's back, "i'll give you all my attention, brother-in-law." his words are met with a chuckle from you. wujin playfully pushes daesu backwards, his smile returning, "don't be sad. you have me," daesu says, his words cut off by wujin's teasing.

wujin's laughter fills the air, "thank god i have daesu now," he says, his eyes shining with gratitude. "and thank god i had y/n then," he adds, his gaze meeting yours. you look up, a warm smile spreading across your face, feeling happy to have been a source of comfort and support for wujin in the past. the atmosphere around the campfire is filled with a sense of camaraderie and friendship, the earlier tensions forgotten in the face of shared laughter and stories.

cheongsan's voice is low and gentle, "me and... onjo..." he begins, his words trailing off as he collects his thoughts. you sit still, your gaze fixed forward, giving him your full attention. the others seem to sense the importance of this moment, and a hush falls over the group. cheongsan takes a deep breath before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper, "we've been friends since we were kids... but i think i wanted more." he pauses, his eyes darting to onjo, who looks down, her face hidden behind her hair. the air is thick with anticipation, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for cheongsan to reveal more. you remain still, your heart pounding in your chest, as cheongsan's words hang in the balance.

onjo tries to brush it off with a laugh, "stop, guys, he's just joking." but her attempt at humor falls flat, as everyone's serious faces remain fixed on her. cheongsan's expression turns sincere, "i'm serious. i've always liked you, onjo-ah." he says, his voice filled with vulnerability. but onjo's reaction is not what he hoped for. she stares at him, her eyes wide with shock, before quickly standing up and walking away from the group.

the atmosphere is heavy with tension, and you can feel the pain in cheongsan's chest as he looks down at his lap, his eyes welling up with tears. you try to offer some comfort, whispering to him, "she just needs a second to process." but the words feel hollow, as the weight of cheongsan's confession hangs in the air. the group sits in silence, unsure of how to react, as onjo disappears into the darkness, leaving cheongsan's heart exposed and vulnerable.

cheongsan's gaze follows onjo's figure into the darkness, his eyes fixed on her as she walks away from the group. he looks out towards the city, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty. suhyeok notices his gaze and gestures for him to go after her. cheongsan takes a deep breath, then looks over at you, "guess the seconds over." he says with a hint of sadness, before getting up and walking towards onjo. the rest of the group is left in an awkward silence, unsure of how to react. daesu breaks the silence, whispering to hroryeong, "i had no idea. did you know?" his comedic timing is impeccable, and you can't help but laugh to yourself.

hroryeong playfully scolds him, "you're the only one who didn't know." wujin chimes in, "i didn't either." his confession makes you giggle even harder, and you place your hand over your mouth to hold back a fit of laughter. the tension is momentarily lifted, and the group shares a moment of levity, but the weight of cheongsan's confession still lingers in the air.

joonyeong tries to lighten the mood, "hey, remember that time in school when the mascot brought out flowers for the boys on white day?" he chuckles, and the others start to chime in with their own memories. "oh man, i forgot about that!" wujin exclaims, laughing. "yeah, and the boys were so embarrassed!" hroryeong adds, giggling. but daesu shakes his head, "i don't remember that." hroryeong teases him, "of course you don't, you were probably too busy sleeping in class!"

daesu defends himself, "i was not! i just... uh... had a lot on my mind." the playful banter between daesu and hroryeong starts to escalate into a full-blown quarrel, but you tune it out, noticing something else. suhyeok gets up from his spot beside wujin and daesu, and walks over to take cheongsan's empty spot next to you. he sits down quietly, his eyes fixed on the ground, but you can sense his presence beside you. the group's laughter and chatter continue, but you feel a sense of awkwardness now, sitting next to suhyeok, who had just moments before been trying to make amends with you.

you try to focus on the conversation, but your awareness of suhyeok's presence beside you makes it difficult. you can't help but wonder why he moved to sit next to you, and what he's thinking. hroryeong and daesu's quarrel continues, with joonyeong and wujin trying to intervene. "hey, hey, let's not fight about this," joonyeong says, laughing. but daesu and hroryeong are too caught up in their argument to listen. "i'm telling you, i was not sleeping in class!" daesu insists.

suhyeok clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. he's watching the argument with a mixture of amusement and concern. "hey, let's just drop it, okay?" he suggests, his voice calm and soothing. the group slowly starts to settle down, with hroryeong and daesu still exchanging playful jabs. but the tension has dissipated, and the mood is once again light and playful. you turn back to suhyeok, and catch him looking at you. he quickly looks away, but you sense a hint of a smile on his face. you can't help but wonder what's going through his mind.

suhyeok's gaze drifts back to the ground, but you can sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. he seems more relaxed, more at ease, now that the argument has passed. the group's conversation flows easily, with laughter and jokes filling the air. you find yourself smiling, feeling a sense of belonging among these friends. as the night wears on, the fire crackles and spits, casting a warm glow over the group. suhyeok shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours. it's a fleeting touch, but it sends a warm feeling through your gut.

cheongsan's sudden yell pierces the night air, "onjo!" he screams, his voice laced with panic. you all turn to see what's wrong, and your heart skips a beat as you take in the scene before you. gwinam, his face twisted into an evil grin, is holding onjo in a tight grip. his eyes seem to gleam with a hungry intensity, making your blood run cold.

you stand up, fear coursing through your veins like ice. gwinam's face flashes in your mind, alongside myungwhan's, and you're transported back to that dark, traumatic moment. their laughter echoes in your mind, their cruel words still etched in your memory: "you're worthless." your breath catches in your throat as you take a step forward, your eyes fixed on gwinam. cheongsan charges towards gwinam, but the latter is too strong. with a swift motion, gwinam grabs cheongsan and slams him to the ground, his back hitting the earth with a sickening thud.

"cheongsan!" suhyeok exclaims, his hand instinctively going to your waist as he prepares to rush past you. but before he can take a step, onjo darts forward, her small frame bravely intervening. she grabs gwinam's arm, trying to pull him off cheongsan. however, gwinam's power is too much for her. with a cruel elbow strike, he sends onjo flying backward. she crashes to the ground, her body crumpling from the impact. hroryeong and jimin rush to her side, helping her up. onjo's face is etched with pain, but she's determined to stand her ground.

suhyeok takes advantage of the distraction to sprint towards gwinam, his eyes blazing with anger. suhyeok's kick connects with gwinam's stomach, sending him flying off cheongsan. daesu and wujin rush to cheongsan's side, helping him up and checking for injuries. meanwhile, suhyeok faces off against gwinam, dodging and parrying his wild punches with ease. he looks like a total boss, his movements fluid and confident. you can't help but feel a surge of admiration for him, but gwinam refuses to back down. as suhyeok attempts to tackle him, gwinam stands firm, his fists clenched together. with a powerful slam, he sends suhyeok crashing to the ground, his back throbbing in pain. suhyeok struggles to get up, but gwinam is relentless. with a swift kick, he sends suhyeok flying into a stack of chairs, which crumble beneath him. suhyeok lies there, dazed and groaning in agony.

the group gasps in shock, horrified by gwinam's brutality. cheongsan takes a step forward, his eyes blazing with anger, but daesu and wujin hold him back. onjo, still shaken from her earlier fall, looks on with tears in her eyes. hroryeong and jimin try to comfort her, but their faces are etched with worry. gwinam stands tall, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. he's unstoppable, and it's clear he won't hesitate to hurt anyone who gets in his way.

gwinam's sinister grin and chilling words send a shiver down your spine. you quickly scan the area, your eyes locking onto the hammer you had found earlier by the rooftop entrance. without hesitation, you sprint towards it and grab the hammer, its weight feeling reassuring in your hands. as you turn back to face gwinam, you see him laughing maniacally, his eyes glinting with a sadistic gleam. "everyone but cheongsan can go. unless you wanna die with him," he sneers, his voice dripping in pure evil.

you notice something odd - it looks like he's chewing on something, his jaw moving slightly as he speaks. it's a small, disturbing detail that only adds to the sense of unease. the group exchanges fearful glances, unsure of what to do next. suhyeok, still recovering from his injuries, looks like he's about to charge at gwinam again. cheongsan, however, stands tall, his eyes fixed defiantly on gwinam. onjo takes a step forward, her voice shaking but resolute. "we're not leaving cheongsan behind." hroryeong and jimin nod in agreement, standing shoulder to shoulder with onjo.

the situation is escalating, and it's clear that things are about to take a dark and dangerous turn. gwinam's face twists in rage as he spits out his words, "then you can all rot in hell with him."

[dabisair]

toska

Dabi x gn!reader

Warnings: soft Dabi, reader is a bit rude to Dabi in the beginning, discussions of love and how it's supposed to feel (both explanations are negative), indecisive reader, unambitious reader, talk of body hatred, and oh my god if you feel the way this reader feels I am so so so SO sorry and I hope that one day you and I can heal ; _ ; (I tried to keep Reader's body type unspecified)

toska - (roughly) a dul ache of the soul, a sick pining, a spiritual anguish; also, "Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness".

Unbeta'd I ride at dawn--- this started somewhere and then ended somewhere else entirely and I'm sorry.

A flame-bitten finger traces along imperfect skin - skin that shivers beneath the touch, goosebumps pebbling in the wake.

The sensation worsens when that burning hand plucks petals from a nearby flower, all blues and purples with a splash of white, and traps the supple material between a hot palm and a cool arm.

Blue eyes flicker with interest, a flash of white heat singing the petals and the near invisible hairs on your forearm. A stream of smoke rises up from beneath his palm, long fingers wrapping around your arm when you try to jerk the appendage away on reflex.

Dabi thinks your scowl is funny - he must, given that he chuckles when you narrow your eyes at him. You don’t waste your time trying to pull your arm out of his grasp. You’ve come to know that it is better for you to accept whatever new burn you’re going to have when he finally decides to let you go than fight with him and have him tighten his grasp.

“Just because you have dead pain receptors doesn't mean I do.”

The small smile on his face is whisked away by a neutral line, his grip on your arm loosening enough for you to yank it back to your person. All that meets your gaze when you inspect your skin is a red blotch, earning Dabi a sigh. You brace your hand against the stone beneath where you sit, staring listlessly toward the city below. He’d insisted that you come up to this roof with him nearly an hour ago.

He sets his hand on your thigh, ripped up flower petals fluttering around as he repeats the action, this time with the petals, and the fabric as a barrier between the brutal flash of his quirk and your flesh. You poke gently at the skin between his knuckles, tentatively touching the staples. Your fingers twitch away from the metal, scorching hot just from the small puffs of flame he let out from his palms.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like running through the snow and jumping in a hot tub.”

Dabi snorts, shaking his head while he rubs his hand slowly up and down your thigh, “right.”

“So hot that it feels cold, like leaving my hand in cold water and then putting it in a bowl of hot water. It stings and makes me think my skin is melting off my bones, at the same time as it feels like my skin is freezing and becoming brittle.”

He nods his head, his hand lifting from your thigh to touch your chest, “that’s not what I’m askin’. What does it feel like?”

“What does what feel like, fire boy?”

“Being in love.”

You peer at him closely, trying to gauge why he’s asking - or, furthermore, why he thinks that you’re in love. You’ve always wondered if you say ‘I love you’ to people because you mean it, or because they said it to you first.

But, at the same time, you can’t be sure that you don’t feel love. You don’t know what it really feels like - at least, not in the way that it's been shown in television or movies or described in books and poems.

“It feels empty.”

Dabi’s stare is weighted, resting heavily on your body.

“It feels like a dull ache, like there’s a hole in my chest that nothing will fill. It feels like losing someone important, wishing you could have them back but knowing that it’s not possible. There’s an anguish there, so deep that I can’t do anything about it, so yeah. It feels empty. It doesn’t feel real. It’s painful.”

Part of you is not surprised when Dabi pulls his hand away from you, but it dawns on you, as your heart sinks into your stomach, that he must have been asking because he thought you were in love with him.

“... what does it feel like to you?”

“Like I wanna’ hurt you. I don’t understand it, can’t comprehend it, and I want to hurt you. It’s an itch I can’t get rid of, a disgusting insect in the back of my head gnawing away at my thoughts and I despise it, and I want it to stop,” his hand returns to your thigh, and he scoots closer, one leg dangling over the edge you’re both sitting on, “can I hurt you?”

“No.”

His huff is so incredulous it causes a puff of laughter to escape you.

“That was so fuckin’ instantaneous.”

“I don’t enjoy pain.”

“What if I let you hurt me too?”

“But you can’t really feel pain anymore, D, and that means that I could potentially really hurt you and neither of us would be aware.”

“But it would be fair. I get to hurt you because I loathe how you make me feel, and you get to fill your emptiness with pain.”

“I don’t follow your logic, but I appreciate that you’re trying.”

“Unless you wanna’ fill your emptiness with somethin’ less painful?” he mutters, leaning toward you.

You go rigid, shoulders bunching up. His lips - uneven and unnatural - scrape along your neck, sending a violent shiver down your spine as your body jumps beneath the affection. He sighs through his nose, the rush of warm air eliciting a similar reaction.

“Do you like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” he scoffs, moving closer despite his indignation. You have half a mind to slap his hand off your thigh.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to react,” you turn your head to the side when Dabi decides to bury his face in your neck, tongue and teeth moving over your skin. It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you anxious. You can’t be sure the butterflies are actually a good thing as they flutter their wings throughout your stomach and chest.

It feels foreign and unnatural and you’re not sure why he insists on kissing your neck the way he is.

At the same time, you don’t do anything to stop him. Part of you hopes you can just breathe through it. Maybe…

Your anxiety grows when his strong fingers dig into your thigh, pulling at your flesh.

It takes a moment for you to work up the courage to discourage Dabi from continuing, his curious mouth moving up your neck toward your cheek. He leans back, expression unreadable save for the irritated twitch in his lip.

“You know I’m impatient,” his voice is low. Dejected. His frustration digs bruises into your thigh, and despite the pain, and the fact that you told him you don’t enjoy pain, you let him. It is better than reminding him that he’s a villain and if he’s going to be so impatient, then he should just take what he wants from you.

Dabi has always seemed to want you to be willing, rather than despondent.

“Nothing to say to that?”

You shrug, your leg jerking under his hand when he digs his fingers into it again. Words escape you until Dabi moves his hand off your leg and sighs heavily.

“This is never gonna’ go anywhere, is it?”

“No.”

“And I thought I was the villain.”

“In label only, D. You also deserve someone who knows what they want - both in life and a relationship. I can’t give you either of those things,” you shrug, the lights of the city blurring together, “unlike you, I have no ambitions. I have no purpose. I simply exist. I don’t know what I want, and haven’t known for years.”

He fishes his cigarettes out of the pocket of your sweatshirt and lights one up with a blue flicker, his movements harsh.

“So you used to know.”

“Yeah. I used to think I wanted a relationship. I used to be pretty enough to be in one.”

Dabi grumbles something under his breath, glaring at you. You tilt your head to the side, sighing through your nose, “you’re prettier than me, D.”

“Yeah? Tell me how that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” you mutter, surprised that he’s stayed as close to you as he has. He’s been surprisingly patient with you, “but I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it, y’know? It’s all fine and dandy until I remember I’m part of the equation. Everything about me is ugly, especially my body. I wouldn’t like it even if I was thinner - or bigger. It’s me, so it’s ugly.”

“But you think other people who share your attributes are beautiful, doll,” Dabi leans his forehead against your shoulder, “why can’t you think that about yourself?”

You suck in your cheeks, looking at him sheepishly when he raises his head.

“... you were gonna’ say that phrase, weren’t you?”

“Uh huh.”

“And you didn’t because…?”

“Because I think I’ve said it enough for one night, and you’re probably sick of hearing it. So. Um. Reasons.”

“Mm-hm. Reasons?”

“Yeah. The best. Logical. Make perfect sense reasons - definitely not illogical, or contradictory reasons!”

And to your surprise, Dabi chuckles, shaking his head as he inclines it to your shoulder again. Maybe it is nice for him to hear you try to be funny about something that is objectively not funny - or maybe he appreciates that you are already aware that your reasoning is illogical.

“Next time we should talk about something else.”

“But what if talking to me about how much you hate yourself makes y’feel better?” he counters softly, lifting his head from your shoulder to toss his cigarette away. You glance at his lips only to quickly look away when you realize he caught you.

“Isn’t that too much weight for you?” you ask just as softly. Thankfully, he knows what you mean: by comparison, your body is fine. Your body is normal.

His no longer is.

“But I understand - don’t argue with me.”

“Okay.”

“Saw you lookin’.”

You hum.

“So do it.”

You glance at him again, brows narrowing back, and your stare drifts to his lips, then back up to his eyes. He nods his head a little in encouragement.

All you can muster is to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. You let it linger, let yourself feel it, and then you pull away. Dabi brings your head to his collar, though, making you lean against him

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You laugh airily, closing your eyes.

“It wasn’t.”

[swaglet]

yap post about architecture and climate. maybe you'll find it interesting

that post about architecture becoming homogenous across the world is true but it doesn't even mention how DANGEROUS something like that can be. like. humans started building permanent settlements depending on wherever their group ended up, and their individual climate determined what materials they built their shelters out of, how high off the ground/how deep they built them, how far from shore they built them, etc..... like. i'm not an architect i know next to nothing about architecture but you know what pisses me off? brick houses with asphalt or clay tile shingle roofs and a basement with solid brick foundation walls are the ultimate superior option where i live for climate control reasons. they are more resilient to tornadoes (especially the debris being flung around by the tornado so they're less likely to collapse from the debris), the inside of your house is kept cool during hot summer temperatures especially if you have trees and plants for shade outside your home above your roof, the inside stays warm when you heat it up and the heat doesn't readily escape through the brick walls or the roof tiles during the cold extended winter months, and you can open up the windows as you please during spring and fall because it's usually room temperature outside for most of those seasons anyway and then you can save on the heating/cooling bill and all that. like literally all year round. especially if you have a fireplace and a little bit of insulation in all your walls and the roof, you literally will have no heat escape and you won't even need to turn your heater on. the clay/asphalt roof tiles with any type of insulation under them make it so that your roof won't collapse if there's a ton of snow sitting on top of it even for weeks on end. both the material of the shingles and the insulation will stop the cold from seeping in and it'll stay warm even though there's like a foot of snow on your roof. we have asphalt tile shingles that have not been replaced or even touched in 20 years since this house was built and there has never been a single leak of water into this house from the ceiling and by god does it rain something fierce here. there have been tree limbs and rocks and shit flung at the roof during small tornadoes and the worst thing that happened was a few tiles got dislodged and we put them back up after the storm was over.

this is an extremely wooded area. pennsylvania is literally means "Penn's forest country" we are THE state for timber and wood and whatnot. if a tree were to fall on your brick house with clay/asphalt shingles after it was blown over or struck by lightning in a storm, it has a lot better of a chance of staying intact than a flimsy wooden beam house with a thin metal sheet for a roof and some more wooden beams underneath it. your plastic siding panels made to look like wood are all going to crack and crumble and like. explode. the moment that tree hits your house. that tree is coming into your living room. if lightning strikes your house, or your porch, or anything near your house like a tree or your garage or anything flammable, your house could be engulfed in flames and you will burn to death. that literally happened here not even a year ago btw. there was a really bad storm and lightning struck a tree in someone's backyard and the tree caught fire and it eventually fell and crashed through their porch and lit their whole house on fire and to add salt to the wound it landed on their power box outside their house so it exploded everything inside so all their wires caught fire as well and everyone except a little girl died because it happened in the middle of the night. brick houses are fire resistant and so are clay&asphalt tiles and that was a freak ass accident and since the flaming tree hit their power box they probably still would have been fucked anyway if they didn't have a cheap ass modern infrastructure fuck ass house but maybe stuff like that would happen less if we paid attention to what our climates are like and what materials are best for our area........... rip to that family i drive past the lot that their house was on almost everyday and think about them

Idk i rant about this shit all the time to my boyfriend like. i wish the housing market (and the market in general) wasn't absolutely diabolical right now because i genuinely want to build a small little cozy house sims-style someday, from scratch, that is entirely based on the climate and weather of where i live and make it as power efficient and safe as possible. Does anyone else ever think about this stuff

Like. Why the hell are all the houses being built nowadays all made with fugly ass metal roofs and shitty ugly fake wooden panel siding on the outside. So inefficient, so useless, so swagless. What is the purpose. We added an extension to our garage recently and metal roofing was the only affordable option and if you step inside that part of the garage it boils you alive in the summer if it's hot out. i CANNOT imagine that shit on top of my real life actual house

[lydiablack-m]

Rain |L Lawliet x Reader|

Pairing: L x Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, major spoilers

Word count: 1k

A/N:  English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. You may read this imagine in the original language here

Sharp rain lashed the windows, it seemed as if the sky had opened and the water from the heavenly springs, rested for thousands of years, broke out of the darkness at once and headed to earth in an endless stream to drown, wash away the sins of humanity, cleanse the souls of people or destroy them.

Everything came down to a dead point. The investigation stopped after the capture and death of Kira. All the accumulated material of evidence and clues collapsed because of the one line in the Death Note: "he will die in 13 days."

The networks that L tightly wove around Light became entangled, and the feeling of approaching danger was getting stronger and stronger over us every day.

L was more silent than usual, his antics and brilliant guesses on the case disappeared. This damned God of Death did not give any useful information, all L's attempts to get her to talk, to ask about the notebook ended in failure. L grew more and more gloomy, it was as if a death mark rose over him, becoming brighter every day, he himself seemed to felt it.

I opened the last message again, as if something new might appear in it, but the same brief words were shining on the screen.

"Y/n, come to the roof. We need to talk."

I put the phone in my pocket and headed to the stairs. The rain beat relentlessly through the panoramic windows, it felt like this building did not exist at all, every step was easy, as if I was walking through that gray air outside, as if it cost me nothing to push off the ground and take off now. My head was spinning from the monotonous sounds of falling drops and aching, inexplicable anxiety.

I pushed the iron door leading to the roof with shoulder, and the next second the wind whistled in the doorway. With an effort, I opened it and look around, covering eyes from the wind and small drops.

L stood near the metal tower, which was crowned with a satellite receiver, and looked at the sky motionless.

His clothes soaked through, water was streaming down his face, dripping from his hair, seemed like he had been standing here for a long time before my arrival. It was pointless to call him, for the noise of the rain and the howling of the wind, my words would simply be lost in the air, there was nothing left but to go out to meet the cold streams and the open gray sky.

“The bell is ringing louder than usual today,” he said, still staring intently into the sky, when I approached him.

“I know.”

We looked into the sky of heavy endless clouds, showered with daggers of cold drops, and it seemed as if there, far above us and in the whole expanse of the air dome, the measured beats of the memorial bell could be heard, making the heart freeze and further distancing us from the reality where we are standing on the roof of a 30-storey hotel in Tokyo, waiting for news that the unknown will bring us, closer than ever to destruction.

“Lately, it has been ringing incessantly. Do you understand what this means?” he said tonelessly.

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the dark sky.

The rain was lashing at my face in furious gusts, my T-shirt stuck to the body, water dripped from the jeans into the sneakers, but it didn't bother me at all. It was as if the whole moment enchanted me, and I stopped feeling anything but unity with this rain, sky and air, nothing else mattered.

All the future past and present have been reduced to one point, into one vessel of the storm, heralding the end of the days of this world.

L turned and stared intently into my eyes.

“I don't want you to die.”

His voice seemed to come from far away, and it took me a moment to understand the meaning of his words, looking at him with unseeing eyes.

L seemed to understand my confusion and hastened to add:

“I think he's going to kill me and then you, and I don't know... For the first time in my life, I do not know how to prevent it,” he sighed heavily and looked up to the sky again.

“I made too many mistakes, let Light get too close... It's all my fault. I shouldn't have dragged you into this investigation. Now, because of my shortsightedness, we are both going to die. I'm sorry.”

I looked up. For some reason, a painful feeling crept into my heart again, suddenly memorable episodes from childhood began to flash before my eyes, those moments when the soul, as well as now, trembled with delight and at the same time was torn with longing in powerlessness to comprehend this moment of merging with the eternal largess of centuries, as if the ancient secret of life was hidden in these moments and one step, one breath each time was missing to let in this all-encompassing wisdom, to become one with infinity.

“It was an honor for me to work with you, but I consider the opportunity to call you my friend to be an even greater joy and the main achievement of my life,” I said.

As if in oblivion, my lips moved by themselves, but at the same time I was clearly aware that the said was right.

L looked at me somewhat surprised.

“Thank you. You are the only person who has become really close to me, whom I really trust. I'll be glad to die next to you.”

He suddenly seemed so lonely and mournful. His life has always been full of cruelty and injustice, he has always been an observer of it, but he has never lived himself. It's a pity that we won't have time to change anything.

I quietly went over and hugged him. He flinched in surprise, but hugged me back.

“Thank you. If it rains like this in heaven, I'll be happy to be there with you.”

...

Thump.

I fall on one knee, there is an unbearable pain in my heart.

Thump.

He lies in front of me and gasps for air.

Thump.

I am pinned to the ground, but rush closer to him.

Thump.

I grab his hand and look into those eyes for the last time.

Thump.

“I'm sorry...”

Thump...

[go-to-the-mirror]

this is the georgie and martin one... oh no...

HI @a-mag-a-day IM ABOUT TO BE SO NORMAL. anyway um conflicts of interest: i love jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london more than anyone else in the world barring my cat and my partner.

so let's just. go then, i guess.

I had a half blue in modern pentathlon and another in orienteering from my undergrad days.

I've done a couple of triathlons before, and a few aquathons (see, my favourite part was cycling, and second favourite was swimming, so I wish there was a swimming and cycling one I could do, instead of just swimming and running), but I've never heard of a pentathlon before. Apparently - according to the CBC - it's fencing, swimming, horse riding, and combined running and shooting.

Obviously, we wanted to leave him to his own stupidity and let the Amazon deal with him, but we both knew that it just wouldn’t be worth the paperwork.

ajhdshaghfhg they should have

As I got closer to the shabono, it became clear what was wrong with it. Although each roof was thatched like normal, the stands weren’t made of leaves, but all kinds of different materials instead: long strands of plastic, shards of rusted metal, even oddly shaped hunks of cement.

Hmm

But the inside was just like the outside, and in the worst possible way. There were no people in there, but that’s not the same thing as it being empty. Instead there were … figures. From a distance, they looked like human beings standing impossibly still, but getting closer quickly revealed the lie. They were just the rough shapes, cobbled together out of a hundred different pieces of garbage: a broken metal clothes horse for a ribcage, a plastic chair leg for an arm, rusted screws for teeth. In some cases, it looked like someone had gone to a lot of effort to match anatomy with construction. I saw one with a broken water cooler where its stomach would be, and another had a pair of old oxygen tanks standing in for lungs.

That's really spooky!

He started convulsing, as grey, liquid concrete began to pour from his mouth, from his nose and his eyes. His limbs went rigid and I could see his body starting to swell with it. I don’t know if it was me or Fernanda screaming, maybe it was both of us, but I know it was her that first spotted that the detritus figures were no longer choosing to stand still. That was the last I ever saw of Dr Nikos Anastas. There was never any question of trying to save him.

Oh that is quite spooky. Did they move? Did they become statues? Tis left to the imagination, for your mind to come up with the scariest possible answer while you try to sleep.

In the end, we crossed paths with a group of real Yanomami tribesmen. They were really friendly and, once they figured out that we were lost, they were very happy to return us to a part of the jungle we knew, near our facility. Of course, we didn’t have a good explanation for what happened to Dr Anastas, so we lost our jobs pretty much immediately. But you know what? That’s fine. I’m done with the jungle. There’s something in there, and I don’t know which scares me more: the thought that it’s more than just the things we left behind; or that that’s all it is, and we can’t escape the ruins of our own future.

that is a GREAT last line. ✨spooky!✨

GEORGIE Oh… Because I think he’s going to destroy himself and anyone who lets him get too close. And I don’t want that to include me. Or Melanie.

Alright, alright. Firstly, do I get where Georgie's coming from? Yes, I do. It's hard, having to step away from someone you love because they're going to get you hurt. Giving up one people is hard, and it's shitty when other people tell you that you need to not do that, different situations, but still, same principle. You decide who to associate yourself with, and it's fine to give up on people.

But... being alone sucks, being given up on sucks. I've been there. I've been given up on. You know what sucks more than the fear that everyone hates you? That fear being realized. And that fear was realized for Jon, he wakes up from a coma and has Georgie basically tell him she wished he was dead - maybe not what she said, but that's an interpretation, and if I know enough about anxiety - I know that interpretation is what Jon believes.

Good for Georgie, I guess, doesn't get her life ruined by a monster, I guess. But I sympathize more with Jon. Justified? Sure, but hey, me being alone was justified too. Does it still hurt? Yeah. Is it still a shitty situation to be in, does it still ache to be written off by someone you trusted? Yeah. Yeah, it probably does.

MARTIN Well, sometimes helping people hurts. GEORGIE Sure, but that doesn’t mean everything painful helps. Sometimes people have problems that will wreck you long before you can make a dent in them. And some people don’t want help; they just want other people suffering with them.

And here's the thing, right. I don't have one singular take on this. There's ✨nuance!✨ Like, yeah, does it suck to be written off by a friend? Yeah! Yeah it does! But then, Martin's all... he's doing this whole... hurt himself for Jon - something that, yeah, isn't helping. He's just hurting himself, he's just putting himself in these dangerous situations because maybe it'll help Jon.

Georgie has every right to leave, to protect herself and Melanie. She can't help Jon. Sure, she's saying it in a vaguely victim blame-y way, most seen in the whole "throwing a grenade and jumping on it" thing, cause he didn't chose this, at least not fairly, but she's right to leave, she's right to say this, she feels that she'll just get herself hurt if she tries to help and I get that.

You don't want to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

GEORGIE He doesn’t know what he wants. And from the sound of things, he’s run out of time to figure it out. MARTIN It’s easy to pass judgement from the outside. GEORGIE One more reason to stay on the outside.

AND YEAH, IM A LITTLE ANNOYED AT GEORGIE HERE, because she doesn't know what's going on, she doesn't understand and she doesn't get to pass judgement on what other people are feeling and doing and thinking and deciding as someone who's not involved and doesn't want to be involved. Great for her, she isn't trapped in an evil job and gotten turned into a bloody monster. Yeah, I think Martin's right here, for a given value of right. Right is subjective.

MARTIN A-a-and wh-what, you think Melanie’s worth saving? GEORGIE It’s not about worth, but yeah, she’s actually trying to get well, so I’m going to help her. MARTIN This place isn’t a sickness. GEORGIE No, I think it’s worse. MARTIN Look, we’re all just trying to do the right thing. GEORGIE Maybe. Look, life forces you to make hard decisions, but I can never trust someone who goes around looking for hard decisions to make.

You sure that's what's happening? You sure it's not - I dunno - a lot of intentionally crafted rock and hard place decisions for the purpose of ending the world? You sure it's not magically knowing that your... colleague has a ghost bullet in her, and having to decide between violating her trust or asking her and potentially her actually hurting and/or killing you? Sure it's not someone's trapped in a coffin and you're like well, hey, at least I can do something useful? Get her out? Die trying? It's so easy to pass judgement from the outside, to call it a stupid decision when it wasn't. You know what sort of decision it was? A decision from someone who didn't care whether they lived or died in part because of your actions.

GEORGIE Oh, I was, um… … Huh. No-one, apparently. MELANIE Yeah, this place will do that to you. Come on. GEORGIE Sure.

I ONLY NOW REALIZED MARTIN TURNED INVISIBLE WITH HIS SPOOKY LONELY POWERS??? WHAT???

Huh.

Well, in conclusion, really cool statement, I have Feelings about the post statement, and I just think that although Georgie has every right to leave and a point in some things that she was saying, she still said it in a really victim blame-y way, and I'm a little annoyed at her perspective on things. Also, Martin's in like season 3 Jon level of monsterhood, I don't know why he thought he wasn't an Avatar in season 5. Was he doing it unconsciously? Is he at season 2 level, actually?

Right...

Oh! Tomorrow is Cul-de-Sac, one of my favourite episodes... ever. So, look forward to that :3

[precisionroofcrafters]

METAL ROOFING PROS AND CONS

This is part one, of a two part series regarding Metal Roofing. With the world's weather being stranger than ever (or so it seems), we thought we would give some insights, both good and bad, into Metal Roofing. We will begin with the PROS!

PROS FOR METAL ROOFING

Metal roofing is an excellent option for most homes. Today, there are tons of options available to fit in with the design of any home, and they’re designed to be longer-lasting and more durable than other types of roofing. Some of the biggest pros to having a metal roof include the following:

LONGER LASTING

A Houston shingle roof is only going to last somewhere between 12 to 20 years, depending on the quality of materials and installation. A metal roof, however, can last between 40 to 70 years, depending on the type of metal used and the installation. Homeowners who want to save money by not having to repair or replace their roofs as frequently may consider a metal roof. They won’t have to worry about any repairs or replacements for quite a while. 

FAR MORE DURABLE

The durability of roofing is crucial, especially in cities like Galveston, TX, where severe storms and hurricanes are possible. Metal roofs can sustain higher winds, up to 140 miles per hour, when they’re installed properly and can be resistant to impact, which certainly occur. It is still crucial to inspect them occasionally of course, as to make sure everything is holding up properly, but the roof won’t corrode or crack, making it an excellent option when durability is required. 

SAFER THAN OTHER MATERIALS

Wildfires and lightning strikes can happen at any time as well. When they do, shingle roofing can ignite from small sparks, leading to a house fire. Metal roofing, however, is safer. It’s not going to spark or ignite into flames, so it can help protect the home further from significant damage. 

MORE ENERGY-EFFICIENT

Take homeowners in Bunker Hill Village, TX, for example. They know just how hot the area can get. Metal roofs are designed to help reflect the UV and infrared lights from the sun, keeping the entire roof cooler no matter how hot it is outside. This can result in 10 to 25% lower cooling costs, saving homeowners a significant amount of money in the long run. 

BETTER FOR THE ENVIRONMENT

Metal roofs, depending on what options are chosen, can be made from recycled materials. They’re also completely recyclable when they’re replaced, unlike shingle roofs that can’t be recycled at all. Plus, since they last longer, there are fewer wasted materials used during the installation or repair of metal roofs, adding to the benefits for the environment. 

Our next post will cover the CONS of Metal Roofs. Be sure to check back, they are interesting.

All that said, we have many roofing options that can fit your budget and needs. So do consider Precision Roof Crafters when it's time to repair or replace your roof. We do not disappoint... and though we service all 50 States, know that our Home base is in Houston, Texas. We will be bringing lots of Educational Material to this particular blog, and it will be given from Roofing Masters, not just paid performers, so be sure to follow or check in with us.

Of course, should you have any roofing issues, do consider us! We have a 28 year track record and almost 30,000 Successful Jobs completed... with ZERO FAILURES. Visit our website (link below) or checkout this short, 3rd party, independent video review of our company: >>> CLICK HERE <<<

[bellygunnr]

Butcher Block

Set somewhere in early season 1. TW for stabbing, whump, hurt/no comfort, but positive-ish ending.

The sun beats hot onto city concrete, bleaching everything in its light and exposing the cracks in a gently swaying shop sign. Asphalt shimmers in the black gaps that people and cars don't occupy, the illusion of water and the promise of burning. Cars putter along despite it all, carrying with them the scent of gasoline and hot metal, a tangible smog that Michael can taste in the back of his throat. It's a stark difference to the cool interior of the deli-- almost enough to drive him back inside.

But across the street is his destination. He turns onto the sidewalk, careful not to rub elbows with any of the many passersby. People of all kinds trawl the narrow paths, collecting at corners to brave the crosswalk or flowing in and out of stores. He eyes one throng of women piling into a '70s Ford, noting the rust eating its fender before looking over its roof, to where his own car is parked and waiting. It hunkers down balefully between two chrome behemoths, wheels already cranked outwards for a quick getaway.

His thoughts drift to the accessory strapped to his wrist. It used to be a watch, but necessity has turned it into a type of phone. He toggles it on with his off-hand, lifting the tiny black device to his mouth, hoping it's near enough to excuse the hubbub of a city at high noon.

"Lookin' a little squashed there, KITT. Those big, mean land yachts haven't been bothering you, have they?" Michael says, an honest question with a playful tone. 

"Hardly, Michael. They're not nearly as brutish as you."

KITT's voice emanates from the device-- a commlink-- just loudly enough to be heard. His tone matches Michael's snide affectation, yet lacks meanness.

"How was your excursion?" KITT prompts, not waiting for an answer.

"Oh, I think we can call it a success," Michael murmurs, glancing around himself. The best place to hide might be plain sight, but he still felt self-conscious talking to KITT like this. "This brute just got the evidence we need to put our new friend behind bars."

The evidence-- a bundle of documents in an envelope-- sits heavy over his heart, hidden by his jacket. A cassette containing verbal confession joins the envelope, though he made sure KITT also possessed a recording before leaving. All he has to do now is show his boss the materials and he'll be home free. For now, anyway.

"That's wonderful news," KITT says happily. "Though I am surprised Miss Evelyn is not with you," he adds, more teasing.

Michael scoffs. "Miss Evelyn has a husband. You're not encouraging me-- augh!"

Pain explodes across the back of his shoulder, spreading out from a blunt strike. Michael instinctively reels his elbow back and pivots, shuffling back to avoid the stream of people. What-- who-- hit him is evident, a stout man in flannel and jeans, lunging after his quick retreat with a flash of silver in his hands.

"Michael!" KITT cries. 

Blood rushes in his ears, drowning out the raucous cry of pedestrians and screeching tires. The man is heavy, strong, and fast, resisting Michael's attempts to disarm, seamlessly diving into his ambush-turned-scrap. He's trained, Michael's brain screams at him, you're in danger. 

The knife switches hands faster than Michael can redirect. Serrated steel lashes out again, snagging at denim and leather. Michael rears back, pushing through spectators, stumbling off the concrete curb onto asphalt.

The man follows, but KITT is there. When he overcorrects, caught off-guard by Michael's own fall, Michael twists around to grab the back of his neck and smash his face against KITT's roof.

"Quickly, Michael, get in!" KITT urges.

KITT pops the passenger side door, throwing the man back and nearly taking Michael with him. Panicking, Michael scrambles across his hood instead, inciting a deep burn in his stomach. He throws himself into the cabin.

Silence follows the slamming of car doors. Michael grabs at the controls, forcing himself to turn shock into action-- 

"KITT, give me the wheel!" Michael snaps. "What are you doing?"

"You're injured, Michael. I'm taking you to a hospital," KITT says coolly.

"I'm what?" 

Michael lets go of the yoke, baffled. Gradually, sensation returns to his brain-- sweat and adrenaline, the high whine of an engine, and fire. Heat on heat, fabric sticking to his gut, his belt cut in two--

"Ohhh," Michael breathes out. "He got me!"

He stares down at himself for a moment. It's not a clean stabbing, if the damage to his clothes is any indicator. There goes his nice leather belt and jeans. Maybe the shirt will be salvageable, should the blood wash out.

"Michael, you need to apply pressure to the wound," KITT says.

Michael looks away from his torso and stares blankly at KITT's flashing red voice indicator. KITT's voice is perfectly even and calm, the kind of implacable cadence he's heard from army medics and first responders. It’d be comforting if it wasn't so unsettling emanating from KITT.

Michael presses his hands firmly against the wound. He can feel the initial shock fading; fear and pain threaten to overwhelm, but he forces himself to ignore it. 

“How bad is it, huh, KITT?” 

“Michael, please retrieve the IFAK from the side compartment. Your injury is shallow but near an artery. It may not clot properly,” KITT replies in that cool tone.

He wordlessly leans over to fumble with the latch to said compartment, a hidden nook in the driver’s door. His body can’t seem to decide if he’s in pain or not, but the feeling of blood is real, hot against his hand as he spares one to grab the unlabeled bag. Dark green, firm to the touch. Familiar Army utility.

“Bonnie’s gonna be mad,” Michael mutters. “Real mad…”

The necessity of applying pressure makes peeling open the IFAK a slight hassle. It comes apart eventually, exposing gauzy innards and unmarked plastic bottles. A sharps kit, too, a part of his brain identifies. He ignores it in favor of pulling open a package of gauze with his teeth, grimacing at the slick of blood against his chin. 

“I would not lift your shirt,” KITT intones flatly. “It is staunching the flow.”

“That’s gonna be a bitch later,” Michael quips absently. “All stuck to it. Gross.”

The gauze rolls and clings to him. Michael forces it into submission, jamming a good portion of it against his sweater. Honestly, he should be better at this, what with the training he’s had, but hospital signage is already bearing down on them.

And, despite all his will to live, bleeding out slowly isn’t such a bad way to go. Shame even he can tell it’s slowed significantly.

Tires screech and rebound in his skull as the yoke saws sharply right, canting them into a painted circle drive. Michael leans his head against the window, watching a couple shuffle out of the wide glass doors, their expressions haggard.

Behind them, medical personnel burst out, gesticulating amongst themselves. One of them points in his general direction– no, directly at him.

“Michael,” KITT pleads. “You’re going into shock. I cannot follow you into the hospital. Please cooperate with the nurses,” he urges.

Well, if KITT was going to ask so nicely…

Michael lets himself be taken.

[lit-works]

The Fantastic Four - negativity trilogy

End of Book 1 : Warlords of Baluur

Chapter 6 : The Living Bombburst

The alien pod streaked ahead of them, traveling much faster than the Brave. It looked as though they had lost it, when they received a call from Nick Fury. "We've been tracking the escape pod," he said. "It landed at a construction site in Lower Manhattan near the World Trade Center. I'm relaying the exact coordinates to your ship's computer.

"Hold everything! We've just intercepted a transmission between the pod and the mother ship. Blastaar was in the pod! He has found something called 'The Cosmic Control Rod'. You'd better get to Blastaar before he escapes!"

-

It was late at night. The glass and steel skeleton of a partially constructed skyscraper rose high into the air.

A flash of light at the top grabbed the attention. Standing in the whipping wind was the awesome form of Blastaar, The Living Bombburst!

With a swipe of his powerful arm, he knocked a man wearing a dark business suit into the shadows behind a stack of crates. Blastaar raised something high, as a brilliant cloak of energy engulfed his body. With a triumphant bellow, he shouted, "The Cosmic Control Rod is mine!"

The Skyscraper stood 50 feet tall, only the lowest five floors were finished. Those above were simply a network of steel girders without windows, walls, or floors. A service elevator ran around the side of the building.

Before attacking them, Blastaar taunted the Fantastic Four, "So! You weaklings think you can stop me! Now that I have the Cosmic Control Rod, the entire cosmos will quake with fear!" He then used the powers of the rod to battle the F4.

Much of the top story was without solid floor and there were many places where one could fall through. A number of loose steel girders lied on the top floor, also on the roof were several crates of construction materials and tools which were broken into kindling and scrap metal by The Thing as weapons against Blastaar.

The mysterious man in the dark business suit was Lew Shiner. Before his death and subsequent rebirth, Lew worked in the demolition business. Tormented by his bizarre existence to the point of madness, Lew found a strange sense of comfort and familiarity while at the construction site. He spent most of his nights secluded on the top floor of the building, trying to fathom all the intricacies of the Cosmic Control Rod. Lew was surprised by Blastaar, who wrestled the rod away from him. While hidden behind the crates, he watched the battle between the Fantastic Four and Blastaar.

After the Fantastic Four defeated Blastaar and recovered the Cosmic Control Rod, Lew Shiner moaned pitifully and pleased for help. "Please," he cried. "Help! I'm dying! Only the energy of the Cosmic Control Rod can save me. I'm begging you, please let me grasp it for just a moment."

When it was forfeited to the man, he used it to escape after shifting into an alien form. Lew Shiner was truly Stygorr.

-

After capture, Blastaar was turned over to the Vault, a SHIELD-designed maximum security installation designed for incarcerating super-powefed individuals. The Flagship retreated into the Negative Zone via gateway after the defeat of their leader and the threatening of return to free their lord Blastaar. Stygorr's gateway was no longer growing, and no longer posed any threat of swallowing earth. If the Cosmic Control Rod has been retained, it could have been used to completely seal the gateway, but since it had not, who knew what creatures mught fome to pass throufh it from The Negative Zone.

[roofprotectproducts]

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Rubber roofing

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[gfdgrggs]

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[lord-of-innistrad]

Throne of the Myr

Savah sat on their throne. The myr, their family, ran to and fro, with quiet industriousness.

"Bring the walker to me," were their only words.

A particularly large myr bowed, creaking with age. They were armed with a sword and shield, and wore a helmet all cobbled together from metal parts.

The knight departed, and Savah looked through the room's oculus in the roof at the yellow sun shining through. They reminisced for a brief moment before looking down for the next report.

***

Seth forged through the thick swamp. He cursed to himself softly, hating every second of it. The swamps of Eldraine were more... liquid. Still waters and twisted trees, those were more his style.

But this? This thick mud that sank up to his knees?

This was torture to slog through.

If he had a name for this place he would curse with it, but unfortunately this little corner of the multiverse had no name. Denizens were few and far inbetween, and when pressed for a name, they admitted the great one, probably a pre-Mending walker, had never given it one.

But they all spoke in fear of the metal men who lived in it, with their strange long heads and glowing circular protrusions. Myr who had been transported by Savah off of New Phyrexia.

Uncompleated as they were, they had found a safe haven. But Seth came with a dire warning.

Suddenly, he found himself surrounded. Myr on all sides, traveling through the trees. Why didn't he think of that?

He was pulled out of the cold mud with a squelch and up into a large tree.

They looked at him silently, although some clearly flickered with intelligence. Those ones seemed better armed than the duller ones.

"Please. I come with a dire warning for your master!"

One rusted one creaked as it turned to the other myr. It made a series of noises. Several picked up Seth and the whole group moved off through the trees.

***

Savah watched as their myr carried in the strange walker. He bore signs of the swamp surrounding this ancient building, mostly mud. He had come unarmed.

"Mighty Savah! I come bearing important news."

"You will wait."

"What?"

"You will wait your turn walker. I am currently listening to my reports from the field."

Savah turned to their generals, all showing various signs of age.

The walker tapped his foot impatiently as each general, in turn, gave their reports. The clear cutting of trees near the swamp in the south by the kor pleased Savah. It would give them better opportunities to raid for materials.

The walker opened his mouth to speak whenever the last general gave his report.

"I said wait your turn walker. It is now time for the sorrow of Mirrodin."

The myr, who had so far been industriously working all over the throne room, ceased moving, casting the room in an eerie silence.

The silence stretched from seconds to minutes, and minutes to hours. As it should. The walker sat down on the dais irritably at minute 30.

Mirrodin was forever lost to the myr.

Savah looked up at the end of two hours.

"Now walker, you may tell us what you have come to tell us."

Seth told them.

[stromproroofing]

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