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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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die with a smile — geto suguru.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me." You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?" He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone." There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - apocalyptic world (zombie take over), isolation, hurt, physical touch, illness, loneliness, sadness, pain, pining, getting together, unhappy ending, character death, depictions of apocalyptic world, depiction of mourning, depiction of isolation, depiction of apprehension, depiction of romance, depiction of illness, depiction of chracter death, depiction of taking one's own life, mention of apocalytic world, mention of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of pining, mention of character death, mention of taking one's own life.;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: i wrote this a long long time ago, but i feel like now it's seeing the light of day and im just excited for you to read it. i'll be working on plans for my first ever kinktober and other ideas i have in between. i hope that you're always well and that you enjoy this!!! love you <3

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┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST NOW. The world had become a wasteland, overrun by the dead. Every day was a fight for survival, every night a battle against the darkness that crept into the mind as much as the world around.

You had been on the move for what felt like an eternity, traveling alone, scavenging for food, and fighting off the relentless hordes that had once been people. You had become a ghost in your own skin, haunted by memories of a time when the world was alive.

It was by chance that you stumbled upon the compound—a fortress of steel and stone, hidden deep within the woods, far from the crumbling cities and the walking dead. Exhausted and on the verge of collapse, you approached cautiously, knowing that desperation made even the living dangerous. The compound's walls were tall and unyielding, and it seemed impossible to breach. But desperation drives people to do reckless things, and you need safety, if only for a moment.

You had barely stepped into the clearing when you heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked. You froze, heart pounding, every muscle tensing as you slowly raised your hands in surrender.

"Don’t move." The voice was low, firm, and edged with the kind of cold precision that came from years of surviving on instinct alone. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him—a tall figure, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees, with a rifle trained directly on you. His eyes, dark and unreadable, never wavered as he took you in, calculating, deciding.

"I’m not here to cause trouble." you managed, keeping your voice steady despite the fear tightening your throat.

"That’s what they all say." His words were clipped, distrust lacing every syllable. He took a step closer, still keeping the rifle leveled at your head. "Turn around, slowly."

You did as he ordered, moving slowly, deliberately, until you were facing him fully. He was closer now, close enough that you could see the weariness etched into his features, the hardened lines of someone who had seen too much, lost too much. But there was something else, too—something in his eyes, a flicker of recognition, as if he saw a reflection of himself in you.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked, his voice rougher now, less controlled.

"Long enough." you replied, your gaze locked with his. "Long enough to know when I’ve met someone who’s been through the same hell."

He frowned, his grip on the rifle tightening as he studied you, weighing your words against the danger you might pose. But then, slowly, the suspicion in his eyes gave way to something softer, something that looked almost like… understanding.

"What’s your name?" he asked, the question coming out more gently than you expected.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you want to live." His tone was blunt, but there was a trace of something more behind it—a quiet offer, a tentative step toward trust.

You swallowed the weight of the past weeks, months, pressing down on you. "I’m just trying to survive."

He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible motion. "So am I." He let out a slow breath, lowering the rifle slightly but not entirely. "Suguru. Geto Suguru."

You didn’t dare move, watching him carefully as he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re lucky I found you before the dead did."

"Maybe." you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Or maybe you’re the lucky one."

He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll see about that." Then, after a long pause, he sighed, finally lowering the rifle completely. "Come with me. But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate."

You nodded, relief washing over you despite the lingering tension. "I won’t."

As he turned and motioned for you to follow, you could sense the caution in every step he took, the way he moved with the fluid grace of someone always prepared for the worst. And yet, there was something else—a strange comfort in the fact that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone.

He took you in, but it was clear that trust was not something he gave easily. The compound was his sanctuary, built with his own hands, and he guarded it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. The first few days were tense; you were wary of each other, moving around each other like predators unsure of whether to fight or flee. He was quiet, watchful, and kept his emotions locked away behind a wall of suspicion.

But you were no stranger to walls, and slowly, brick by brick, the two of you began to dismantle them. It started with the small things—shared meals, the exchange of supplies, moments of silence that were less about fear and more about understanding. You discovered that beneath his tough exterior, Suguru had a passion for music. In the evenings, when the world outside grew too dark to bear, he would pull out an old guitar, his fingers strumming out melodies that spoke of a time before the end.

You, too, had your own love for music, and in those quiet moments, the two of you found a connection. The songs you shared became a language of their own, one that spoke of loss, hope, and the fragile bond forming between you. Music was your refuge, a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even if it was buried beneath layers of fear and grief.

The days began to blur together, a steady rhythm of routine and survival. Each morning, you would wake to the faint light filtering through the thick curtains of the compound, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the walls that separated you from the chaos beyond. The danger was always there, lurking just beyond the gates, but within the safety of Suguru’s compound, life had found a different pace.

At first, your interactions with Suguru were brief and cautious, a necessary coexistence born out of mutual need. But as the days turned into weeks, the initial wariness between you began to fade, replaced by a tentative friendship. The man who had once held a gun to your head now greeted you each morning with a nod and a hint of a smile, a gesture that brought a surprising warmth to your otherwise cold and uncertain world. His presence, once a source of tension, had become something you looked forward to, a strange sense of peace in the midst of madness.

One of the few luxuries you both shared was a love of food—a small pleasure in a world where every meal had become a fight against starvation. In this new reality, the art of cooking had taken on a different meaning. It was no longer about indulging in flavors or crafting elaborate dishes, but rather about survival, about making the most of what little you could find. And yet, even in this, there was comfort.

Together, you would scour the surrounding areas for supplies, salvaging whatever you could from the abandoned homes and overgrown gardens. It was a slow, careful process—one wrong move could attract unwanted attention, and resources were scarce. But the shared task brought a sense of camaraderie, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to face this alone.

In the evenings, when the world outside grew dark and foreboding, you would gather in the small kitchen, working together to prepare your meals. The ingredients were humble—canned goods, dried beans, the occasional fresh vegetable from a patch of land Suguru had managed to cultivate—but it didn’t matter. The act of cooking became a ritual, something that grounded you both, reminding you that life was more than just surviving day to day.

Suguru was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen, his movements efficient and precise as he chopped vegetables or stirred a pot over the fire. He had a way of turning the simplest ingredients into something comforting, something that made the compound feel more like a home. You would watch him sometimes, marveling at the way he found solace in such a small task, and slowly, you began to join him, contributing your own skills to the process.

"How did you learn to cook like this?" you asked one evening as you worked side by side, your hands busy preparing a stew from the last of the potatoes you had found.

Suguru glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Necessity, mostly. My parents weren’t around much, so I had to fend for myself. Turns out, I’m pretty good at making something out of nothing."

You nodded, stirring the pot as the aroma of the stew began to fill the room. "It’s a useful skill, especially now."

"Yeah, I suppose." he agreed, his tone softer now. "It’s one of the few things that still feels normal."

The meals you shared became more than just a way to stave off hunger—they were moments of connection, brief respites from the harshness of the world outside. As you ate together, you found yourselves talking more, sharing stories of the lives you had left behind, the people you had lost, and the hopes you still held on to, however fragile they might be. These conversations, once stilted and brief, grew longer, more personal, as the walls between you crumbled bit by bit.

Each meal was a small victory, a reminder that despite everything, you were still alive, still human. The warmth of the food, the sound of your voices filling the silence, and the flicker of the firelight against the walls—all of it made the world outside seem a little less bleak. And in those moments, you realized that within the confines of the compound, you had found something precious: a sense of normalcy, a connection with another person that transcended the mere act of survival.

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, you both sat by the fire in the small living area. Suguru was strumming his guitar, the soft melody filling the space between you. The sound of the music was soothing, a rare comfort in the chaos that surrounded you. You found yourself watching him, the way his fingers moved deftly over the strings, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Where’d you learn to play like that?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Suguru glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Picked it up a long time ago. It helped… before all this." He gestured vaguely to the world outside, the unspoken horrors hanging heavy in the air.

You nodded, understanding what he meant without needing more words. "I used to play too, back when things were different." The memories were bittersweet, but they didn’t hurt as much as they used to, not here, not with him.

Suguru looked at you with a hint of curiosity. "What did you play?"

"Mostly piano. But I messed around with the guitar a bit too." You shrugged, trying to sound casual, but there was a lingering sadness in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

"Maybe you should give it a try again." he said, holding out the guitar to you.

You hesitated, your fingers itching to touch the instrument but also afraid of what it might bring up. Suguru noticed your hesitation and added softly. "It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought… maybe it would help."

His words, spoken with such gentle understanding, made something inside you soften. You took the guitar from him, your fingers awkwardly finding the chords, the muscle memory slowly returning. The notes came out shaky at first, but as you continued, the music began to flow more naturally, filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Suguru watched you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. "You’re good." he said quietly, and for a moment, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, like a bad dream you could wake up from.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile that felt strange on your face after so long. "Thanks. It’s been a while."

He nodded, leaning back against the wall, his gaze still on you. "It’s nice, having someone to share this with." His voice was low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You met his eyes, something unspoken passing between you. "Yeah, it is."

With each passing day, the bond between you and Suguru grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and growing intimacy. The days, once filled with routine and duty, now held a deeper meaning. You found yourself eagerly anticipating his presence, whether it was during the long, often monotonous hours patrolling the perimeter or in the quieter, more serene moments spent together in the kitchen.

During these patrols, the silence between you was no longer uncomfortable but rather a comfortable companion. You’d exchange glances and smiles, the unspoken understanding adding warmth to the cool, night air. These simple interactions became a cherished part of your day, a reminder that even in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, there were small, precious joys to be found.

Cooking together was a ritual that both of you cherished. Every meal you prepared was more than just sustenance; it was a shared experience, a small victory over the harsh realities of the world outside. Suguru, with his surprisingly deft culinary skills, brought an element of surprise and delight to these moments. His laughter would fill the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of whatever you were preparing, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie.

These cooking sessions were more than just about the food. They were about the small, tender moments that punctuated your days—Suguru's playful teasing as you fumbled with ingredients, the quiet, shared satisfaction of a well-made meal, and the deep conversations that flowed as easily as the spices you mixed. Each meal was a testament to the connection you were nurturing, a symbol of your growing closeness.

In these shared moments, whether in the midst of patrols or while cooking, you found solace and joy. The simple act of preparing food together became a grounding ritual, reminding you both of the warmth and safety you had found in each other’s company. Through the laughter, the shared tasks, and the quiet companionship, your relationship deepened, finding strength in the everyday moments that brought you closer together.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me."

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?"

He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone."

There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "We’ve both lost so much, you know?" he said quietly. "But maybe… maybe we can find something here. Something worth holding on to."

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were something precious, something worth protecting. "Suguru…" you began, but the words caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to say anything." he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that took you by surprise. "Just… stay with me."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the world outside seemed to fade away. "I’m not going anywhere, Suguru." you promised, your voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as Suguru’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you knew that despite everything you had lost, you had found something here—something real, something worth fighting for. The world outside was still a nightmare, but in his embrace, you felt safe. You felt… home.

The fire crackled softly and the scent of a simple stew filled the air, you sat together in the small kitchen. Suguru’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a bowl, the brief contact sending a jolt through you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no fear, no death—only the warmth of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

You reached out, your fingers gently grazing him, and this time, he didn’t pull away. The kiss that followed was soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of a new reality. It wasn’t born out of desperation or fear but something genuine, something that had been building between you since the day you met. In that moment, you realized that amidst the ruins of the world, you had found something worth fighting for—each other.

Suguru was still the survivalist, still cautious, still guarded. But with you, he was different. He let you in, allowed you to see the man behind the walls, the one who had survived not just the apocalypse, but the loneliness that came with it. And in return, you gave him the one thing he had lost faith in—hope.

In the silence of survival, you and Suguru found a new life, not just as survivors, but as something more. The world outside was still a nightmare, but within the walls of the compound, there was music, there was food, and there was love. And that was enough.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

THE WORLD CHANGED IN A BLINK OF AN EYE. The years passed, and in the midst of the crumbling world, you and Suguru had found a fragile but undeniable happiness together.

Despite the constant fight for survival, the fear, and the uncertainty, you had managed to carve out a life within the walls of his compound—a life filled with small moments of peace, warmth, and a deep bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The two of you had become each other's anchor, weathering the storms of the world outside and the storms within yourselves. There were still fights, of course—heated arguments born out of the stress and the pain that never quite left—but they always ended the same way: with apologies, with understanding, with the reassurance that no matter how much the world tried to tear you apart, you would find your way back to each other.

You wanted to stay together, no matter what. The future was uncertain, but you had each other, and that was enough.

Or at least, it had been. Until the day you found out.

The sickness began as a dull ache, a persistent discomfort that you initially attributed to the everyday strains of fatigue or stress. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself it was just a part of the routine hardships you faced. But the pain didn’t relent. Instead, it began to spread, a creeping malice that invaded your very bones, draining your energy and will.

As the days turned into weeks, the ache evolved into a relentless torment. Tasks that once seemed trivial became monumental efforts, and the weight of the pain became increasingly unbearable.

It was as if every step you took, every breath you drew, was a reminder of the encroaching shadow that threatened to envelop you. Eventually, the denial you clung to was no longer tenable. The truth, harsh and unyielding, crashed down upon you with the force of a relentless storm.

The diagnosis was a devastating blow—terminal, with no hope for a cure. It felt as if your world had crumbled, leaving you in a hollow space where hope once resided. The words of the doctor reverberated in your mind, each syllable a brutal reminder of your fate.

You struggled to process the enormity of what was unfolding before you, your mind overwhelmed by the realization that the future you had envisioned with Suguru was slipping through your grasp.

The dreams you had nurtured—of a shared life, of enduring together through the hardships of this cruel world—were now tainted by the bitter reality of your diagnosis. The vision of growing old side by side, of finding solace in each other amidst the chaos, seemed like nothing more than fragile, shattered illusions. The life you had carefully built, the hope you had cherished, were being torn away by a fate you could not escape.

Each day became a battle, not just against the encroaching illness but against the crushing weight of despair. The future that had once seemed so vibrant and full of promise now appeared as a distant, unreachable horizon. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the time you had left was no longer measured in hopes and dreams, but in the stark reality of counting down to an inevitable end.

In this bleak landscape, the love you had with Suguru became both a source of immense comfort and profound sorrow. It was a bittersweet reminder of what you were losing and what you still cherished.

And as you faced the unbearable truth, you clung to the moments of shared love and companionship, knowing that while the future was uncertain and fleeting, the bond you had forged with Suguru was a source of strength in your darkest hours.

Telling Suguru was the hardest thing you had ever done. When the moment came to share the news, you felt a heavy weight pressing on your chest. Each word felt like it was tearing apart the fragile fabric of hope that had been woven between you. You struggled to find the right words, but the gravity of the situation rendered you almost speechless. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you uttered the truth.

As you spoke, you could see the light in Suguru's eyes dim, his once-vibrant gaze becoming clouded with an overwhelming sense of despair. It was as if your words were a heavy fog rolling in, obscuring the clarity and warmth that had once defined his expression. The impact was immediate and devastating. The hope and dreams you had shared seemed to drain from him, leaving a hollow, heart-wrenching emptiness in their wake.

Suguru’s reaction was one of stunned silence. He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze was fixed on you, but it was distant, almost as if he were looking through you rather than at you. His expression was frozen, a complex mix of disbelief, shock, and profound sadness. It was as though the words you had spoken were so unfathomable that he struggled to process their meaning, as if accepting them was too great a burden for his heart to bear.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and emotions. You could see him grappling with the reality of what you had just revealed, his mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of your situation. The anguish etched on his face was a mirror to your own, reflecting the profound sense of loss and heartbreak that had suddenly become your shared reality.

"No." he finally whispered, his voice cracking. "No, this can’t be happening."

You reached out, your hand trembling as you took his, squeezing it tightly. "I’m so sorry, Suguru. I wish there was something we could do, but—"

"But there has to be." he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening almost to the point of pain. "There has to be something. We’ve survived so much… we can find a way through this too."

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I wish that were true. But this… this is different. There’s no fighting this."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it almost hurt, as if he could keep you with him through sheer force of will. His breath was ragged against your hair, and you felt the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his tears.

"We were supposed to be together, baby." he choked out, his voice thick with grief. "We were supposed to make it."

"I know, I know." you whispered, your own tears spilling over. "I wanted that too. I still do. But…"

"But what?" he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes desperate. "We can’t just give up."

"I’m not giving up, Suguru." you said, your voice trembling with the effort to stay strong. "But we have to face the truth. This is happening, and we can’t stop it."

The devastation in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you saw the way he struggled to keep himself together, to be strong for you even as his world fell apart. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice small, almost childlike.

"We keep going." you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt. "We make the most of the time we have left. We keep fighting, but… we don’t fight each other. We spend every moment we can together, and we make them count."

He nodded, though the movement was slow, reluctant, as if he still couldn’t quite accept what you were saying. "I don’t want to lose you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can’t lose you."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "You won’t lose me, Suguru. Not really. I’ll always be with you, even if… even if I’m not here."

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pulled you close again, his grip almost desperate. "I love you. I love you more than anything in this world." he whispered, the words heavy with all the emotion he had been holding back. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, my love. My Suguru." you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. "I always will."

And so, in the midst of the overwhelming sorrow, you held each other, finding solace in the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside still raged on, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was all that mattered. You would face the darkness together, hand in hand, and whatever time you had left, you would make it count.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

BY THE TIME SPRING CAME, EVERYTHING UNRAVELED. The sickness had steadily worsened, each day stealing more of your strength and vitality, chipping away at the life you had fought so hard to hold onto. The once-manageable discomfort had evolved into a constant, gnawing ache, a relentless companion that shadowed your every move.

The pain was unyielding, a dull throb that seemed to seep into every corner of your existence. Alongside it came a profound exhaustion, a weariness so deep it felt as if you were weighed down by a leaden blanket, sapping your energy and spirit.

As the days passed, you became acutely aware that your time was running out. The inevitable reality of your condition loomed ever closer, and the thought of leaving Suguru behind was almost unbearable.

The idea of him witnessing your slow decline, of watching you waste away, was a source of deep, unrelenting sorrow. It was a burden that neither of you should have to endure, and the thought of him bearing witness to such suffering made the situation all the more poignant.

One evening, as you sat together in the small, dimly lit living room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth provided a stark contrast to the heaviness of the moment. The flickering light danced across the room, casting warm, gentle shadows, but it did little to ease the weight of the decision that loomed over you. You glanced at Suguru, his presence both a source of comfort and a reminder of the pain you were about to inflict.

The warmth of the fire seemed to mock the cold reality you faced. Each crackle of the flames was a stark reminder of the life that was slipping away from you, a life that you had shared so intimately with Suguru. The room, once a sanctuary of shared joy and quiet moments, now felt suffused with a profound sadness. You could see the concern and love etched into Suguru’s face, and it made your heart ache even more.

You knew that making this decision was necessary, even though it would hurt him deeply. The thought of continuing in your current state—becoming a burden rather than a partner, an encumbrance rather than a companion—was untenable. The inevitable end was approaching, and you could no longer ignore the fact that your suffering was taking a toll on both of you.

As you faced Suguru, your heart felt like it was shattering with the weight of your decision. You had chosen to speak the truth, to acknowledge the unbearable reality of your situation. It was a choice made out of love and respect, even though it meant confronting the deep, painful truth of your own mortality and the heartache it would cause Suguru.

In those quiet moments by the fire, the decision was clear, but the pain of it was profound. The love you had for Suguru and the desire to protect him from further suffering guided your choice, even as it tore at your own heart. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the chill of the reality you faced, a reminder of the fleeting nature of the life and love you both had cherished.

"Suguru, my love." you began, your voice weak but steady, "I need to ask you something."

He turned to you, concern etched in his features. "What is it? Do you need something? More water? Some painkillers?" He was always trying to do something, anything, to ease your suffering, even when there was little that could be done.

You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. "No, it’s not that. It’s… I want you to help me end it. When the time comes, I don’t want to… I don’t want to linger."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, Suguru just stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. Then, he pulled his hand away, his expression hardening as he shook his head violently.

"No, baby." he said, his voice firm and almost angry. "No, I’m not doing that. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll find something—there’s got to be something out there that can help. We’ll go out tomorrow, search the surrounding towns. There has to be something… anything…"

"Suguru, my love. Please. Understand me." you interrupted gently, your heart breaking at the desperation in his voice. "We’ve tried. We’ve been searching for months, and nothing has changed. You know it as well as I do—there’s nothing left to find."

"I can’t!" he snapped, his voice rising. "I can’t lose you like this! We’ve survived so much together. We can get through this too. I’ll find a way, I swear."

You reached out again, this time cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Suguru, my love." you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I’m dying. We both know it. Please… don’t make this harder than it already is."

He broke then, his shoulders shaking as he crumbled before you. "I can’t live without you, baby." he choked out, tears streaming down his face. "You’re all I have left. If you go… if you leave me… I don’t know what I’ll do."

"You’ll keep going. You must." you said softly, your own tears spilling over. "You’re strong, Suguru. You’ve always been strong. You’ll find a way to survive, even without me."

He shook his head, his hands gripping yours tightly, as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. "I don’t want to survive without you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not there."

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as he cried against your shoulder, his grief tearing through him like a storm. "I know. I know that." you whispered, your own heart shattering with every sob that wracked his body. "I know it’s hard. But you have to promise me you’ll try. Promise me you’ll keep going, for both of us."

He clung to you, his breath ragged as he tried to pull himself together. "I don’t know if I can." he admitted, his voice small and broken. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

"You can, my love." you insisted, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You’re stronger than you think, Suguru. You’ve already done so much. But before I go… There's something I want to do. Something that will give meaning to all of this."

He frowned, confusion flickering in his tear-filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to say the words. "I want to marry you, my love." you said, your voice trembling. "I want to be your wife, even if it’s just for a little while. I want to give meaning to this life, to what we’ve been through together. Please… let’s do this, Suguru. Let’s make it real."

He stared at you, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as if trying to process the gravity of what you had just said. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and raw emotions. You held your breath, the weight of his potential rejection pressing down on you. The thought that he might find the idea too painful to accept was almost unbearable, adding to the already intense sorrow that filled the room.

But then, as if struggling to come to terms with the inevitable, he began to nod slowly. The initial shock in his eyes gave way to a profound sadness, and his expression softened, becoming a mixture of resignation and tender understanding. The lines of his face, once tense with disbelief, relaxed as he reached out to you.

With gentle, deliberate movements, he cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation, a soothing balm against the sharp edges of your sorrow. His hands, though trembling slightly, were steady in their tenderness, conveying a depth of love and acceptance that words alone could not express.

As he held you, his gaze locked onto yours, searching for reassurance and finding it in the depths of your shared experiences and unspoken bond. The moment was both heart-wrenching and profoundly intimate, a testament to the strength of your connection and the pain of facing such a difficult decision together.

"Okay, baby." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay. We’ll do it. I’ll marry you. We’ll do it right here, right now."

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, a small, trembling smile breaking through the sorrow. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your voice cracking. "Thank you, Suguru."

He pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as you both cried, the weight of what was to come hanging heavy over you. But in that moment, you were together, and that was all that mattered. You would marry him, give meaning to your lives, and in the time you had left, you would make every moment count.

Even as the darkness closed in, you knew that you had found something beautiful in the midst of the horror—a love that would last beyond the end, a bond that would never truly be broken.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SUCH A NICE DAY FOR A WEDDING. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as you and Suguru prepared for the day that would be both your wedding and your farewell. It was a day you had both dreaded and longed for, a day that would bring a bittersweet end to the journey you had shared together.

Suguru had spent the early hours of the morning in the kitchen, determined to make this day as special as he could. He cooked you the best meals he could manage with the limited supplies you had, pouring his heart into every dish.

The aroma of roasted vegetables, tender meat, and freshly baked bread filled the small compound, a testament to the love and care he had poured into every bite. He even brought out the best wine he had been saving in the cellar—a bottle that had survived the apocalypse, waiting for a moment just like this.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found you dressed in your best—an old dress you had found while scavenging, simple but elegant, its soft fabric hugging your frail form. Suguru had dressed in his finest as well, his dark shirt and trousers clean and pressed, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him took your breath away, and you smiled, despite the sorrow that weighed on your heart.

"You look beautiful, baby." he whispered as he approached, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you look handsome, my love." you replied, your voice trembling as you reached out to straighten his collar.

The two of you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other, committing it to memory. Then, with a deep breath, you took his hand, and together you made your way to the small living room, where the morning light streamed through the windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. There were no guests, no officiant, no flowers or rings. It was just the two of you, standing together in the light, your hands clasped tightly as you exchange your vows.

"I, Suguru, take you, my love, to be my wife." he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "In this life, and whatever comes after, I promise to love you, to hold you close, to cherish every moment we have together. No matter what happens, you will always be my heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the words, your voice trembling. "I, take you, Suguru, to be my husband. I promise to love you, to be by your side, to find joy in the little things, even in this broken world. You’ve given me a reason to keep going, and I will carry that with me, always."

With that, you both leaned in, sealing your vows with a gentle kiss, a promise made under the watchful eye of the morning sun. When you pulled back, there were tears in both your eyes, but there were also smiles—small, fragile smiles that spoke of a love that had endured the darkest of times.

The day passed in a blur of quiet joy and melancholy. Suguru insisted on dancing, and you found yourselves swaying together to the soft, nostalgic notes of Vera Lynn’s "We’ll Meet Again," playing from an old record player Suguru had somehow managed to keep running.

The song filled the room with its haunting melody, a promise of reunion in a world beyond this one. You held each other close, moving slowly, savoring every second, every touch, as if by doing so, you could make time stop.

As night fell, the reality of what was to come settled over you both. There was no turning back now, no more delaying the inevitable. You returned to the bedroom, where the bed had been carefully made, its soft blankets a welcome comfort against the cold that had settled into your bones. You climbed into bed, and Suguru followed, sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on yours.

You turned to look at him, your heart aching with the knowledge that these were your final moments together. "Suguru, my love." you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you to live. Even after I’m gone, I want you to find a way to keep going. Please… promise me you’ll try."

His grip on your hand tightened, and he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What sort of life is that without you?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "You’re everything to me. I don’t know how to keep going if you’re not here."

"You’re stronger than you think, my love." you whispered, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "You’ve always been strong, Suguru. You’ve saved me so many times… now, you need to save yourself. Please… for me."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his breath shuddering as he tried to hold himself together. "I don’t want to let you go, baby." he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how."

"You don’t have to let me go, my love." you replied, your own tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’ll always be with you. In every memory, every moment we shared. You’ll carry me with you, no matter what."

He nodded, though it was clear the idea of life without you was unbearable. "I love you, baby." he whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that words could barely contain. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." you whispered back, your voice trembling. "Now… let’s make this last moment count."

With that, he leaned in, kissing you gently, as if trying to pour all the love he had for you into that one moment. You kissed him back, holding him close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart—a rhythm you had come to know and love, a sound you would carry with you into the dark.

When the kiss ended, you settled back against the pillows, the familiar softness providing a modicum of comfort in the midst of your pain. Suguru lay beside you, his arms wrapped around you with a tenderness that spoke of his deep, abiding love. Together, you both faced the uncertain future, finding solace in each other's presence as the night stretched on.

The silence of the room was broken only by the soft sound of your breathing, a gentle rhythm that seemed to anchor you both in the present moment. Despite the gravity of what lay ahead, you felt an unexpected sense of peace settle over you. In those final moments, the relentless tide of fear and pain receded, leaving only the pure, unadulterated essence of love.

There was no longer any room for fear or anguish—only the profound understanding that you had found something truly beautiful amidst the horror. You had loved deeply, and you had been loved in return. That realization, though bittersweet, provided a profound sense of fulfillment. It was a reminder that, even in the face of the inevitable, the love you shared had given meaning to your time together.

As the night deepened, you clung to each other, savoring the last precious moments of closeness. Suguru’s presence was a comforting embrace, a final refuge before you slipped away. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the cocoon of your shared love.

When the end finally came, Suguru was left with a heartache so profound it felt almost unbearable. He gazed at your lifeless body, the weight of your absence crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down his face, each drop an echo to the depth of his grief. He struggled with the harsh reality of living without you, the very thought of continuing without you seemed inconceivable.

In a final, tender gesture, he brushed the hair away from your face, his fingers lingering in a gentle caress. A faint smile touched his lips, though it was laced with sorrow.

“I’m following you soon, my love. Forgive me.” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. He lets out a smile against the tears.

He takes a look at the drink you drank, laced with laudenum and whiskey. A last hurrah took you away. And he wants that too. He wants to be with you. He stands up to take it and tells himself that it would be okay. Soon, you'll be together again. He gives himself visions of paradise, where you aren't sick anymore. A paradise where you could enjoy life together.

He smiles again, wiping his tears with his free hand and drank the same drink. He puts away the glass and lays down beside you. Everything was going to handle itself somehow, he knew that well enough.

His left hand lingers against the tips of your hair, brushing them as he would have when you were alive. He would be doing that for eternity in the afterlife. Like he always wanted.

For the last moments of Geto Suguru's life, he catches a glimpse of the shine of his wedding ring and yours. As though the light leading him to the other side. He closes his purple eyes slowly for the final time and feels everything be in its place for the first time in a long time.

Years later, when survivors find your bodies lingering in the eternal warmth only both you could provide, they read words on a small card on a coffee table.

"Leave us be on the graveyards we chose. Let us live eternity like this together."

And they do. They leave you be. Because the smile on your faces was enough to know this was where you belonged. Together.

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st-just · 5 months ago

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Less Boring 40k Demon Prince Ideas than 'Bigger Angrier Chaos Space Marine'

Unspeakably ancient eldar who was one of the decadent hubristic imperial magnates so good at murderogries they caused the birth of Sleanesh, happily sold out the rest of the species

Sisters of Battle canoness/living saint who was actually genociding people for Khorne instead of the Emperor (took multiple campaigns for anyone to notice, very embarrassing)

Demon Prince of Nurgle that literally is a zombie apocalypse plague, their consciousness distributed throughout the Resident Evil/Left4Dead-style horde and monstrous mutatioons

A Sauron-among-the-Numenoreans disciple of Tzeetch, appears as a normal looking charismatic savant genius who shows up and givens a world's leaders everything they need to start a glorious new golden age (eventual rebellion and/or disastrous collapse can be assumed)

Corrupted machine spirit of a titan (with bonus entire crew of the titan still eternally bound within it)

Just like, any aliens tbh.

#warhammer 40k #shitposting #musing #apropos of long conversation after dark heresy session

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justice4gyeongsu · 3 months ago

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━━━ 'CHAPTER SIX' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ the art of unlikely alliances is always something special. even if you never saw it coming.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; homophobia, assault, bullying, embarrassment, some fluff, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT | PREVIOUS

in a flash of adrenaline-fueled strength, cheongsan wrenched the wooden frame from the classroom window sill and brought it crashing down on the zombie's skull, shattering the glass and sending the undead attacker tumbling to the ground. the sudden motion freed you from the zombie's deadly grasp, but the relief was short-lived as you collapsed to the floor, your shoulder throbbing in agony, feeling as though it had been torn from its socket. hroryeong rushed to your side, her voice laced with panic, "did it get you? you weren't bit, right?" but your response was reduced to a mere moan, your body consumed by an overwhelming tide of pain. with gentle urgency, hroryeong propped you against the wall, easing you off the cold floor. as your head lolled back against the wall, she pleaded with you to get up, but her words were drowned out by the cacophony of pain screaming through your mind, rendering you unable to respond.

a whispered curse escaped your lips as you struggled to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes, desperate to maintain a semblance of composure in front of your peers. the girls closed in around you, a wall of support, as you turned to witness the boys employing makeshift wooden frames to hold off the undead. but then, daesu burst into action, ripping an entire classroom door from its hinges with a fierce battle cry. "hey!" he blared, "get out of the way!" the boys scrambled to clear a path as daesu charged forward, door held aloft like a shield. with a series of swift, precise shoves, he blocked the zombie horde, creating a crucial barrier.

inspired by daesu's bravery, the boys rallied behind him, pushing forward with renewed determination, their collective momentum building as they fought to reclaim ground from the relentless undead.

with a shared glance, the girls nodded in unison, swiftly moving to support you. they carefully draped your one functional arm over hroryeong's shoulder, forming a united front as they navigated the treacherous hallways. the boys, meanwhile, strained against the undead horde, their grunts of exertion echoing through the corridors as they stumbled forward, blindly rounding corners.

upon reaching the stairwell, the boys seized the opportunity to redirect the zombies down the stairs, creating a temporary barrier. the girls, undaunted, collectively lifted you up the upper stairs, their footsteps a testament to their determination. summoning every last ounce of energy, you pushed through the pain, refusing to become a burden, and ran alongside them, your feet pounding the stairs in a desperate bid for safety.

the boys clattered the stairs behind you, their footsteps closing in as they struggled to catch up. meanwhile, hroryeong had swiftly pulled you into the first available hallway on the next floor, but her hasty decision soon proved misguided - the corridor was already teeming with stumbling zombies. in a flash, the girls' voices rose in unison, "go! go!" as they propelled you up another staircase, desperate to outrun the undead. you winced in pain, your makeshift sling threatening to unravel amidst the chaos. "it's... slipping," you ground out through gritted teeth, alerting hroryeong to the danger.

with a panicked gasp, she swiftly resecured the sling, her fingers shaking as she worked. simultaneously, the boys surged forward, forming a barrier between you and the ravenous horde, their bodies blocking the zombies that had been drawn by the commotion.

jimin spun around, her eyes locking onto daesu as he sprinted towards her, the wooden door clutched in his hands. but her gaze quickly shifted, her eyes widening in alarm as she spotted something lurking behind him. "daesu! watch out!" she yelled, her voice piercing the chaos. daesu reacted swiftly, spinning to face the new threat and hoisting the door like a shield, blocking the zombies' advance. but their respite was short-lived, as they found themselves encircled, the undead closing in on all sides.

you glanced up, wincing in pain, and saw that you were trapped, pinned between the zombies and a single, tantalizing doorway. "jimin-ah!" you shouted, grabbing her attention, and nodded frantically towards the door. jimin rushed to the door, only to find it locked, her face contorting in frustration. "shit, it's locked! we need a-a key or something to open it!" she shouts, her voice carrying to the others. daesu and jimin exchanged tense words, their argument fueled by the desperation to escape, their voices rising as the zombies closed in.

in a rapid, determined move, onjo commanded daesu to push back against the zombies with renewed force. meanwhile, she crawled forward with a sense of purpose, her hands grasping for the school's fire hose, coiled and ready for emergency use. she wielded the hose's metal nozzle like a hammer, pounding relentlessly against the metal lock. as the group held their collective breath, their exhausted muscles screaming in protest, hroryeong buried her face in your shoulder, her body trembling with fear. in a poignant reversal of roles, you found yourself now offering comfort and support to the girl who had once helped you.

"onjo, please!" hroryeong begged, her voice trembling with fear as tears streamed down her face. onjo summoned every last ounce of strength, her final swing landing with a resounding clang as the lock yielded, the door creaking open in defeat.

with a collective sigh of relief, the girls surged forward, pouring into the classroom like a dark tide. you ushered hroryeong across the threshold first, ensuring each of them reached safety before turning to daesu, who still lingered outside. "guys! it's open, come on!" you urged, your hand reaching out to pat daesu's shoulder as you held the door open, a beacon of hope in the chaos.

in a final, desperate bid for safety, the boys heaved against the door with all their might, then turned to sprint into the classroom. but in the chaos, cheongsan's foot caught on a splintered wooden plank, shattered remnants of the window frame, and he stumbled. a zombie, sensing vulnerability, began to crawl towards him with eerie speed.

without hesitation, you dashed out into the fray, ignoring the girls' frantic pleas from inside. you grasped cheongsan's arm, yanking him to his feet, and dragged him towards the door, his legs scrambling to keep up. releasing your grip, you spun to slam the door shut, the zombies' snarls and thuds echoing through the room as you leaned against the door, your heart ringing in your ears. breathless, you slid down the door, holding it closed, and glanced down at your shirt - now more tattered and filthy than ever.

as you caught your breath, the reality of your situation sank in. the zombies' relentless pounding on the door echoed through the room, a grim reminder of the horrors outside. the girls huddled together, their eyes wide with fear, while the boys stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. nayeons voice trembled as she spoke, "w-we can't stay here. we have to find another way out." but her words trailed off, lost in the uncertainty that gripped them all.

in a hair-raising moment, daesu's scream pierced the air as a zombie's bloody hand clamped onto his face and hair, its fingers digging deep into his skin. the creature's torso had wriggled halfway through the shattered window, its eyes fixed on daesu with a ravenous gleam.

without hesitation, joonyeong sprang into action, grabbing a fire extinguisher and slamming it into the zombie's head with a loud crash. the creature's grip faltered, its body slumping backward as it tumbled out of the window. but in the chaos, joonyeong's wild swing had shattered another pane, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

"get a desk!" cheongsan yelled, his voice ringing out as the group scrambled to respond. in a flurry of movement, they heaved chairs and desks into place, forming another barricade to block the windows. everyone except you rushed to help, their faces set with determination as they worked to secure their fragile sanctuary.

tempers frayed as nayeon's angry voice was heard, her words aimed squarely at onjo. "how could you lose it?" she shouted, her frustration palpable.

before you could even process what had been lost, gyeongsu intervened, his practicality a stark contrast to nayeon's emotion. "who cares?" he said gruffly, as he grasped another desk, his focus fixed on the task at hand. "we gotta secure the room now," he stated, his eyes locked on the front of the room as he headed back to join the others.

a fleeting sense of calm was shattered as nayeon's biting remark sliced through the air: "like you can talk." the familiar spark of animosity between her and gyeongsu was unmistakable, their long-standing dynamic of constant bickering rearing its head even in the face of catastrophic danger.

as you witnessed the exchange, it was clear that their petty squabbles had become a deeply ingrained habit, a reflexive pattern of behavior that persisted even as life and death hung in the balance.

gyeongsu's scoff dripped with loathing. "it's your fault we're in this mess. you were supposed to block the door and you didn't." nayeon stood her ground, her chin held high, as she delivered the final blow: "and if you had actually done what you were supposed to, then the gym teacher wouldn't have gotten to us." the air was heavy with tension, their verbal sparring a stark contrast to the dire circumstances that surrounded them.

you attempted to intervene, starting with a stern "nayeon-", but she swiftly cut you off, her words spilling out in a torrent of anger. "we almost died because of you! you're so fucking annoying," she spat, her venom directed at gyeongsu, who seemed to be seething, his anger barely contained.

but then, a sudden shift - "you forget to remember, you were the reason he left the door in the first place. always bitching at him..." your own pain and irritation boiled over, causing you to lash out at anything that even hinted at raising your blood pressure.

nayeon's lips parted, her eye twitching with agitation, as she lashed out: "seems like you always have something to say, huh? if you hadn't made coach kang so mad, maybe mijin wouldn't have turned!" her words stung you, sparking a surge of anger in both you and gyeongsu. you both began to close in on her, but the room erupted in a chorus of caution, everyone urging you to "leave it alone."

it was clear that this was neither the time nor the place for recriminations, yet nayeon's relentless jabs left you baffled. why was she still fueling the flames of discord when unity was crucial to your survival?

a sense of unease settled over the room as onjo's worried voice cut through the tension: "suhyeokie? has anyone seen him?" the question cast a shadow of concern, sending a shiver down your spine. you scanned the room frantically, searching for the familiar tall figure, but he was nowhere to be found. a growing sense of dread gnawed at your gut.

"he was right behind me," cheongsan called out, his voice strained as he struggled to hold the chairs in place against the window, barricading the zombies outside. the words only heightened your concern, and you felt a surge of fear. "did he..." you started to ask, your voice laced with worry, your heart racing with the urge to rush out and find him. the silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken fears.

“he didn't get bit,” cheongsan finished for you, his words a welcome relief that prompted a shaky exhale. you hastily masked the betraying breath with a throat clearing, trying to compose yourself. “at least, not when i last saw him…” cheongsan trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper as he too succumbed to worry for his best friend, another young life hanging hazardously in the balance.

slumping into a worn, abandoned chair, your mind spiraled into a tornado of despair, consumed by the haunting thought that he might truly be gone. the possibility that he wouldn't return, refusing to be dismissed. and yet, despite the anguish he had caused, your heart still skipped a beat at the mere memory of him. why did this toxic longing persist, even as your heart seethed with resentment? the pain he had inflicted over the past few months still lingered, a festering wound that refused to heal. so why couldn't you shake the feeling of your heart shattering into a million pieces? your thoughts drifted back to the beginning, to the moment when it all started, and the memories came flooding back…

as the lunch bell rang, the hallways transformed into a sea of chatter and laughter, with clusters of friends walking together. you, however, found yourself alone, making your way back to your friend's classroom to return a borrowed book. as you turned the corner and began descending the stairs, your breath hitched- changhoon and gwinam stood before you, their nonchalant strides a stark contrast to your sudden panic. with lightning-fast reflexes, you spun around and dashed back up the steps, desperate to avoid detection.

you ducked into a nearby classroom, sliding the door shut behind you and pressing your back against it. catching your breath, you cautiously approached the window, peeking out to see the duo sauntering down the hallway, hands buried in their pockets. but then, changhoon's gaze snapped upwards, locking eyes with yours in a fleeting moment of terror. your eyes widened as he nudged gwinam, directing his attention to you. you dropped down, dashing to the back of the room where a decorative screen door panel offered a fragile hiding spot. you concealed yourself behind it, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle any betraying sounds.

abruptly, voices pierced the air, making your senses go on high alert. "yo! suhyeok!" gwinam’s shout sent your eyes darting frantically towards the ground, straining to listen, but only muffled murmurs reached your ears. an oppressive silence followed, causing your legs to tremble beneath you as you crouched in fear.

then, the creak of the classroom door opening made your eyes go wide with terror. you froze, holding your breath, and pleading with any higher power to spare you from harm. a whisper seemed to slice through the air, "yah, go check the back right there." changhoon's voice sent a chill down your spine. the scraping of desks and approaching footsteps made your heart race, each step echoing through the room like a countdown to doom. "the moron couldn't have gone far, we saw him in here," gwinam's detached remark only heightened your fear, his words dripping with venom.

without warning, the curtain door rustled, and a figure emerged, sending you into panic. you gazed up, fear etched on your face, only to be met with a familiar sight - the same guy from the bathroom encounter. his eyes, filled with sympathy and pity, locked onto yours, while your body trembled like a leaf, tears welling up in your eyes. you resembled a lost, helpless kitten, and his expression softened at the sight. a pang struck his chest as he took in your fragile form, curled up in a ball. unaware of the conversation about you, he was taken aback.

"found him?" changhoon and gwinam demanded, their eyes fixed on him for an answer. suhyeok's gaze darted back to you for a fleeting moment before shifting to the other door, slightly ajar. "no, he's not here. must have slipped out the other way," he replied swiftly, covering you with the panel once more, shielding you from view.

you couldn't fathom it - was he truly helping you? "shit, come on!" changhoon's irate voice echoed as he stormed out the door. the sound of footsteps faded into the hallway, and you exhaled a shaky sigh of relief, allowing the pent-up tears to stream down your face. your tense body finally relaxed, surrendering to the emotional release. but then, the panel shifted once more, sending you scrambling backward, your heart racing. suhyeok's gentle voice cut through your fear, "hey, hey, it's okay, they're gone." he knelt beside you, his calm demeanor a bandaid to your frazzled nerves. overwhelmed with gratitude, your head drooped forward, relief washing over you like a wave. hastily, you wiped away your tears, forcing yourself to compose your emotions.

you caught him gazing at you, and swiftly averted your eyes, your ears flaring with heat under the intensity of his dark brown stare. suhyeok's lips parted, but words faltered, trapped in his throat. he yearned to offer solace, yet hesitated, fearing it would only add to the awkwardness. "please...just go," you whispered, your voice barely audible, as you fixed your gaze on your lap, avoiding his eyes.

struggling to stem the tide of tears, you felt exhaustion seep into your very being. the daily grind of fighting to navigate school had taken its toll. the relentless torment - dog feces in your shoes, brutal beatings after class, harassment on your way home, and public humiliation in the classroom - had drained your spirit. the weight of being an outcast, a perpetual pariah, crushed you. even your home, once a sanctuary, now felt like a source of pain. your dad's indifference to your bruises, his dismissal of your nocturnal cries, and his neglect of your suffering had become too much to bear. the cumulative effect was suffocating, leaving you feeling utterly defeated, unable to cope anymore.

“you're no longer on the baseball team,” suhyeok said, disregarding your plea for him to leave. his words hung in the air, prompting you to look up at him in bewilderment. you sniffled, "what?" he simply nodded, his expression unreadable.

"you were on the team, right? i think i saw you play a few times," he said, a faint smile on his face. with a mix of reluctance and embarrassment, you pulled yourself off the floor, dusting off your pants and adjusting your school vest. "um...yeah. that was about a month ago," you admitted, causing suhyeok's smile to falter. he averted his gaze, looking away awkwardly before responding, "right, yeah...it's been a while since i've seen a game, so..." his voice trailed off, leaving an uncomfortable silence.

“why are you friends with them?” you interrupted, curtailing his nonsensical words. your gaze locked onto his, a fierce glare burning with intensity. “they're bullies, cruel and heartless. why?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion and hurt, your eyes welling up with emotion. suhyeok felt the weight of your scrutiny, like a spotlight shining down on him, and he faltered, stuttering before responding, “we've...we've been friends since childhood, they're not that bad, i mean...”

you burst out laughing, mocking his naive words, "not bad, huh?" your laughter echoes again, incredulous that you ever thought he was different. the realization hits you - he's just like the others, "you guys are all the same." with a mix of disgust and disappointment, you shove past him, turning to leave. but he grasps your arm, spinning you back around. his face contorts in offense, hurt by your words, "that's not true."

you swiftly shoot back, "then prove it," the air thick with unspoken meaning, your words a gauntlet thrown. but before suhyeok can respond, the classroom door slides open and a teacher breezes in, interrupting the tense moment. you both hastily step away from each other, trying to appear nonchalant. you hide your tear-stained face behind a veil of hair, avoiding eye contact, while the teacher asks with a cheerful smile, "oh, sorry for the interruption! i thought ms. jang was here. did you two see where she went?" suhyeok quickly attempts to match her bright demeanor, pointing outside, "yes, I saw her head to the teachers' lounge."

the teacher nods, seemingly oblivious to the tension between you and suhyeok. “alright, thank you! ill go catch up with her!” she exits the classroom, leaving you both alone once again. suhyeok takes a step closer to you, his eyes locked on yours. “look, im sorry that-” you didnt wait to hear his apology before leaving the classroom and sliding the door closed behind you.

as the final bell rings, releasing a flood of students into the afternoon, you make your way down the school steps, only to sense a tall figure falling into stride beside you. your gaze drops to find the familiar book you'd forgotten, now being offered to you with a charming smile. suhyeok's eyes sparkle as he says, "you forgot this."

you're taken aback, surprised he'd waited until after school to return it. your pulse quickens at the thought. snapping back to reality, you quickly look away, nodding with a brief, forced smile. the only way you could thank him without actually saying the words. you continue on, merging with the sea of students crossing the street, trying to blend in. as you continue walking, you can't shake off the feeling that suhyeok is still beside you. you glance over, and sure enough, he's keeping pace with you, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “where are you headed?" he asks, his voice casual, as if he's just making conversation. you hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. "just home," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

suhyeok nods, his smile still in place. "mind if i walk with you? i'm headed in the same direction." you shrug, trying to appear indifferent, but your mind is racing. what does he want? why is he following you? as you walk, the silence between you grows more uncomfortable. suhyeok points out a few landmarks, but you only give curt nods.

"why are you following me?" you ask, deciding to confront him directly. "you could've just returned the book and left." suhyeok's smile falters for a moment, before he looks away, scratching the back of his head. "i guess i just wanted to make sure you got home okay," he says, his voice a little softer. you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "that's it?" suhyeok looks back at you, his eyes locking onto yours. "im not like myungwhan and them. im gonna prove it to you," he states with that charming smile once again.

you study his face, trying to read between the lines. what does he mean by "prove it" to you? "what do you mean?" you press, your curiosity getting the better of you. suhyeok takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "i mean, i know they've been giving you a hard time. and i'm sorry. i'm sorry i didn't do anything sooner." you feel a pang of surprise. no one's ever apologized for their friends' behavior before. especially not someone like suhyeok. "why are you telling me this?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

suhyeok's smile reappears, this time with a gentler warmth. "because i want to," he says, his response frustratingly vague. you roll your eyes, unimpressed. as you continue walking side by side, you notice two girls across the street, clad in another school's uniform, pointing and whispering in your direction. your face heats up with embarrassment, and you instinctively pull your hoodie up to conceal yourself.

but before you can hide, suhyeok leans in, his fingers brushing against yours as he gently pulls your hoodie back down. his face is suddenly mere inches from yours, his eyes sparkling with amusement. a sudden thrill runs through you at the unexpected proximity, and you feel a flutter in your chest. the whispers and giggles from across the street fade into the background as you become acutely aware of suhyeok's presence.

suhyeok's voice cuts through the warmth, his words laced with a hint of concern. "you're gonna catch a heat stroke if you put your hoodie up," he says, his tone effortlessly casual. as he speaks, his hands reach out to gently tease out the tangles in your hair, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body. his fingers work with a tender precision, as if trying to soothe a skittish creature. the sensation is both calming and unnerving, leaving your cheeks and ears flushed with a gentle heat.

his hands linger, and for a moment, you're trapped in the intimacy of the gesture, the world around you melting away. then, he steps back, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and you're left to wonder at the strange sense of vulnerability that lingers long after his touch is gone.

as you stand there, trying to process the unexpected tenderness, suhyeok's gaze drifts to your hoodie, which is still clutched in your hand. "seriously, take it off," he says, his voice low and persuasive. "it's too hot for that." you hesitate, “its fine..” you say, unsure of what to do. but before you can make a decision, suhyeok reaches out and gently unzips your hoodie from your chest to your lower belly. he helps you take off your backpack and hoodie then holds it for a moment, his fingers brushing against yours, before tossing it casually over his shoulder.

"come on," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "lets keep going." he turns and starts walking, leaving you to follow. you do, your heart still racing from the unexpected touch. as you walk, you can't help but steal glances at suhyeok, wondering what other surprises he might have in store. the sun beats down on you, warming your skin, and you feel a sense of freedom wash over you. maybe, just maybe, this day won't be so bad after all.

next thing you know, time slipped by effortlessly as suhyeok became your constant companion, walking you home with a consistency that was both comforting and thrilling. four weeks passed, each day blending seamlessly into the next as the distance between you and the taller boy grew shorter. with every step, your connection deepened, and your heart began to beat in tandem with his presence. for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the prospect of school no longer filled you with dread. the halls, once a battleground, became a mere backdrop for the quiet moments you shared with suhyeok.

teasing comments and snickers, once a constant hum, faded into insignificance as suhyeok's presence became your shield. his calm and gentle nature was a comfort to your rattled nerves, soothing your fears and quieting your doubts. as the days turned into weeks, your heart, once a heavy burden, began to feel lighter, freer. it was as if suhyeok's presence had given you permission to breathe, to live, and to feel.

a sense of determination washed over you as you stepped into the school's bustling hallways. a single thought consumed your mind: confessing your feelings to suhyeok. the connection you shared had grown too strong to ignore, and you could no longer keep your emotions hidden.

with every step, your heart beat faster, but fear was nowhere to be found. suhyeok's gentle nature had become a sanctuary, a place where you felt safe and understood. the time you spent together had woven a sense of intimacy, making it feel as though you were already inseparable. in your mind, the lines between friendship and something more had blurred, and you couldn't help but wonder if suhyeok felt the same. today, you were ready to find out.

in an empty classroom, you wrote a heartfelt letter to suhyeok, revealing your true feelings. your hands trembled as you poured your emotions onto paper. once finished, you folded the letter and made your way to his locker, where his name was written in beautiful calligraphy. you slipped the letter inside, the soft sound echoing through the silence. in that moment, you felt vulnerable, yet hopeful. you had shared a part of yourself, and now all you could do was wait and wonder if suhyeok felt the same.

hours passed, and the silence was deafening. you couldn't focus in class, your mind wandering to the letter and suhyeok's potential response. as the final bell rang, you gathered your belongings and made your way to your usual meeting spot, wondering if he'd even show up. as you turned the corner, your heart skipped a beat. suhyeok was leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on yours with an unreadable expression. you felt a flutter in your chest as he pushed off the wall and approached you, the letter clutched in his hand.

"can we talk?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. you nodded shyly, and he led you to a quiet corner of the schoolyard, away from prying eyes. the air was thick with anticipation when he finally looked up, his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw a glimmer of something there, something that gave you hope. just as suhyeok's words hung in the air, a trio of unwelcome figures emerged from the shadows, their presence like a dark cloud. myungwhan, changhoon, and gwinam loomed behind suhyeok, your eyes fixed on the letter in myungwhan’s hand.

your gaze dropped, and your heart sank as you saw the bullies' hands grasping the paper, their faces twisted in disgust. they devoured the words you had poured your heart into, their snickers and snorts piercing the air like daggers. “i never thanked you for being my friend,” he began to read out loud. you shook your head with tears welling in your eyes. this can't be happening, “your kind gestures and gentle words reached a part of me that no one has ever touched.”

the three bullies erupted into a chorus of mocking laughter, their cruel amusement echoing through the schoolyard as they reveled in the intimate words you had shared with suhyeok. the crowd around you grew, drawn in by the spectacle, as myungwhan's voice boomed out, reading your private confession aloud.

"“im grateful to be as close to you now, but some days i wonder if we could be even more,”" he cackled, his voice dripping with derision.

you stood frozen, blinking in shock, as the words you had poured your heart into were used against you. the laughter and snickers of the crowd cut deep, and suhyeok's face twisted in anger, his eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness.

the moment felt like an eternity, as if time itself had slowed to savor your humiliation. but in the midst of the chaos, suhyeok's words were abruptly silenced as gwinam slung his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a suffocating grip. "damn y/n.. i know i would call you fag, but for you to actually be one? i mean, what a coincidence right?" gwinam sneered, his voice dripping with spite.

the crowd around you erupted into a murmuring of whispers and snickers, smartphones held aloft like a sea of tiny mirrors reflecting your humiliation. "what a shitty confession, he couldn't even say it to his face.." a voice murmured in the crowd. suhyeok's eyes flashed with anger, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and helplessness as gwinam's grip tightened around him. the scene unfolded like a nightmare, each passing moment a fresh wave of torture.

changhoon's hands closed around your neck like a vice, his smile twisted and sinister as he pulled you into a suffocating chokehold. tears streamed down your face as you struggled to break free, but his grip only tightened.

"i bet you got hard while writing this.." myungwhan's voice dripped with sadistic pleasure as he instructed gwinam to "check", his eyes gleaming with a perverse curiosity. suhyeok's face was a mask of paralysis, his eyes locked on yours for a fleeting moment before he turned away, abandoning you to the mercy of your tormentors. the betrayal stung like a fresh wound, as you realized he wouldn't be coming to your rescue.

"get off me!" you shout, your voice cracking with desperation as gwinam's hands move to unbuckle your belt. "no!" you scream, loud sobs wracking your body. in a surge of adrenaline, you lash out, sending a kick flying into gwinam's face. he stumbles back, blood streaming from his nose. the momentary distraction gives you the leverage you need to elbow changhoon and shove him against the wall.

seizing the opportunity, you grab your backpack and sprint through the crowd, your feet clattering the ground in a frantic bid for escape. you don't stop until you're safely behind the door of your home, where you collapse, exhausted and shaken. the memory of that day haunts you, and you can't bring yourself to return to school. but a week later, a truancy notice arrives, and your father's firm hand forces you back into the very environment you're desperate to escape. the next few months are a blur of isolation, as you struggle to come to terms with the trauma you've endured.

you could never forgive him for setting you up like he did.. so why does your heart break when he's gone now?

a piercing screech shattered the air, jolting you back to reality. you instinctively covered your ear with your one good hand, wincing in pain. then, a voice cut through the chaos, calm and authoritative.

"students and teachers of hyosan high school. i'm park sunhwa, the english teacher. something strange is happening throughout the school. some students are attacking others indiscriminately. so please flee and find a safe place."

a wave of despair washed over the classroom, but the sound of an adult's voice sparked a glimmer of hope. tears of fear and relief streamed down faces as the reality of the situation sunk in. "and if any students or faculty hears this and is able to please call the fire or police department. students, hide somewhere safe until help arrives. if you can get out of the school, please get out." the room erupted into a chorus of sobs and panicked whispers.

joonyeong's voice suddenly speaks up. "its alright, we can just stay in here for now until help comes," he says, but his words are met with skepticism. the group's eyes dart to him, searching for reassurance. meanwhile, you spring into action, scouring the backpacks for anything that might aid in your survival. isak and cheongsan watch with interest, their hushed conversation about onjo's struggles without suhyeok barely audible.

but one phrase catches your attention: "onjo's crush". your gaze drifts to onjo, and you realize that suhyeok's absence has left a void in more ways than one. it seems he had possibly more than one secret admirer. the revelation sparks a flicker of curiosity, but it's quickly extinguished by the gravity of your situation.

your search for supplies yields little more than makeup and secret diaries, which you leave untouched, respecting the privacy of your peers. you know all too well the pain of having your personal life exposed. meanwhile, joonyeong approaches cheongsan, his voice low and cautious. "you know, if y/n hadn't grabbed you back there, you probably would've got attacked." the words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the danger that lurks outside.

cheongsan's glare is immediate, but joonyeong presses on, his tone laced with a mix of sadness and urgency. "im just saying, now would be a great time to make amends. especially with suhyeok gone, we only have us now." the weight of his words settles over the group, a poignant reminder that in the face of adversity, their bonds may be all that remain.

as you continue to rummage through the backpacks, your hands close around a crisp white button-up shirt, its sleeves short. you hold it up, eyes closed, a silent prayer of gratitude escaping your lips. the two boys can't help but stare, their gazes drawn to the simple yet profound moment. "i cant.." cheongsan whispers, his voice barely audible. gyeongsu's curiosity is piqued, and he shifts his attention to cheongsan, sitting down beside him. "why not?" he asks, his eyes darting between cheongsan and you, who continues to search for supplies. "i mean, its not like we have anything else to do," gyeongsu states, his gesture encompassing the desperate scene unfolding before them. his words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of their precarious situation.

cheongsan's gaze lingers on you, a mix of frustration and determination etched on his face. with a sudden burst of energy, he leaps off the table and strides towards you, his movements fluid and purposeful. meanwhile, your search for sustenance yields a disappointing find - a chip bag, already ravaged and empty. you curse under your breath, frustration getting the better of you, before tossing the bag aside.cheongsan's eyes dart back to joonyeong and gyeongsu, seeking reassurance. and he finds it - both boys offer encouraging smiles and thumbs up, a silent show of support that seems to steel cheongsan's resolve.

cheongsan's sigh hangs in the air as he turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with a hesitant intensity. "hey," he says, his hands still clenched at his sides. you rise to your feet, bracing yourself for another confrontation, but instead, cheongsan's words catch you off guard. "what?" you ask, your tone softening.

"i um, i just wanted to say, thanks. for coming back for me earlier," he confesses, his gaze dropping, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. stunned by his gratitude, you realize that your actions may have saved his life. but then, you recall how he, in turn, saved yours. "lets call it even," you say with a sheepish smile, the tension between you dissipating. "i would've been out there in that hallway still if you hadn't smacked that zombie on the head."

cheongsan's small smile mirrors yours, a fragile truce forming between you. it's a surreal moment, one that makes you realize that near-death experiences can be a powerful catalyst for understanding. you both see each other in a new light - not as enemies, but as humans, with families and loved ones waiting for you at home. you're just kids, after all, fighting to survive in a world gone mad.

as the smiles linger, the atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming less tense. you both stand there for a moment, the only sound being the distant moans and groans of the infected outside.

you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of camaraderie wash over you. "we should keep watching each other's backs." cheongsan nods, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound sense of trust. "sounds good."

in an instant, the calm is shattered by nayeon's urgent voice. "did you get bitten?" she asks, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. isak responds swiftly, her tone laced with a mix of fear and defiance. "i said i wasn't!" your eyes meet cheongsan's, a shared sense of concern sparking between you. you both turn to isak, and your hearts sink.

her nose is smeared with dried blood, and her eyes betray a growing panic. isak rushes to a mirror, her reflection revealing the true extent of her distress. her eyes are bloodshot, protruding slightly, and her entire body begins to tremble. "come on, i-i said im okay!" she shouts, her voice cracking. onjo springs into action, grasping isak's hands in a desperate bid to calm her down. cheongsan and you approach cautiously, your minds racing with the terrible possibility that onjo might be next to fall.

a sense of urgency washes over you as you grasp isak's arms, trying to calm her down. "isak, calm down. it's okay," you say softly, attempting to soothe her growing panic. cheongsan mirrors your actions, gently pulling onjo away from the unfolding chaos. the two friends, once inseparable, are now separated by a growing sense of dread.

onjo struggles against cheongsan's grip, trying to shove him away, but it's too late. isak's body begins to contort, her teeth clenched in a vicious snarl as she crashes to the floor. "she's turning!" wujin's voice rings out, a stark warning that sends a chill through the air.

the echoes of nayeon's scream still linger in the air, but they're quickly replaced by the ominous shuffling of footsteps outside. the zombies, drawn by the commotion, are closing in. the boys spring into action, grasping desks and chairs to barricade the door, their faces set in determined lines. but their efforts may be in vain, as isak, now standing, takes a menacing step forward. her eyes fix on onjo and cheongsan, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

"isak, please don't do this," onjo begs, her voice trembling, but isak doesn't falter. she charges towards them, only to be repelled by cheongsan, who shoves her away with a wooden stool. you seize the moment, dashing to the window and frantically working to unlock it with one hand. but it's a futile effort - the latch stubbornly refuses to budge, requiring two hands to open. time is running out.

a warning shout pierces the air, "y/n! look out!" and you spin around, heart racing, to see cheongsan launching himself at isak. he shoves her with all his might, and her body sails through the air, heading straight for the window. you drop to the floor, narrowly avoiding the collision, as isak crashes through the glass and disappears outside. but onjo reacts fast, dashing to the window and grasping isak's hand, her fingers closing around it like a vice.

onjos legs flail wildly, and you grab hold, straining to keep her from pulling herself out the window too. cheongsan seizes the wooden stool, his face set in a grimace, and brings it down, hammering isak's hand in a desperate bid to break the grip.

"onjo, you have to let go! she wouldn't want you to throw your life away!" you shout, sweat dripping down your face as you struggle to hold on with one working arm. it's the hardest thing you've done so far, and you're not sure how much longer you can last. the tension is palpable as you feel isak's weight teetering on the edge, and then, in an instant, it's released. cheongsan's swift action has broken the grip, and you hesitantly let go, your body sagging in relief.

you crawl away from the window, drained of all energy, and collapse against the drawers. the solid wood provides a comforting support as you lean against it, exhausted to the core - mentally and physically spent. the ordeal has pushed you to the limit, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, trying to catch your breath and process what just happened.

onjo's body crumples, and she dissolves into a fit of sobs, curling into a ball as the weight of her grief becomes too much to bear. the room falls silent, with all eyes on her, as the sound of her anguish fills the space. gyeongsu's urgent voice cuts through the moment, "come block the door!" and you spring into action, joining the effort to barricade the entrance against the growing zombie horde. with one hand, you help push the desk into place, securing their safety.

meanwhile, jimin gently lifts onjo into a chair, standing beside her and offering what comfort she can, her hand rubbing her back in soothing circles. hroryeong sits down beside her, tenderly brushing the hair from her face and holding her hand, the two girls enveloping her in a cocoon of support. cheongsan's gaze lingers on onjo, his expression softening, and that's when it hits you - a spark of realization that changes everything.

the pieces fall into place as you realize cheongsan's true feelings for onjo. it's a surprising epiphany, and you can't help but wonder why you didn't see it sooner. his past glares and tense behavior around you and onjo now make sense - he was harboring a secret crush.

a small smile plays on your lips as you think about how unnecessary his worries were. onjo, sweet as she is, never sparked that kind of interest in you. she's not your type, and you're relieved that cheongsan's concerns were unfounded. but now, you're curious to see how this newfound understanding will change the dynamics between you all.

cheongsan's gaze sweeps the room, his eyes lingering on each face before settling on the window. "we should go," he says finally, his voice firm with conviction. "we're not gonna last here any longer." the room falls silent, with all eyes on him, as the weight of his words sinks in. wujin speaks up, her brow furrowed in concern, "where would we even go?" cheongsan's plan is already in motion, it seems. "we could use the hose from earlier," he explains, turning to gyeongsu. "i'll need you to open the door a little bit, just enough to fit the hose."

you stare at him, in disbelief, wondering if he's lost his mind. "cheongsan, what are we gonna do with a hose?" you ask, your voice laced with confusion, as you try to make sense of his seemingly harebrained scheme.

cheongsan's response is a steadfast gaze, his eyes burning with determination. you meet his intensity with a healthy dose of skepticism, rolling your eyes before voicing your doubts. "whatever this is, it better work," you say, your tone laced with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

as you help gyeongsu clear a path, moving desks and chairs out of the way, you can't help but wonder if cheongsan's plan is nothing more than a desperate gamble. gyeongsu, too, seems uncertain, her voice tinged with reluctance as she slides the door open slowly. "isn't it better to wait for the rescuers to come save us?" he whines, her eyes darting nervously towards the unknown dangers outside.

cheongsan's words are laced with a sobering gravity, his eyes gleaming with a sense of leadership that commands attention. "we might all die by the time they arrive," he states, his tone firm and resolute. in this moment, you know you'll trust him without question, no matter the outcome.

with a deep breath, cheongsan drops to the floor, his belly flat against the ground as he stretches out to reach the hose. but time is of the essence - the zombies outside are a constant threat, and one wrong move could mean disaster. "i can't reach it," he admits, his gaze locking onto yours, a silent plea for help.

you scan the classroom frantically, searching for anything that might bridge the gap between cheongsan's outstretched arm and the elusive hose. your eyes dart from chair to desk, desperate to find a solution before the zombies outside become an even more pressing problem.

in a moment of synchronistic ingenuity, cheongsan darts into the school's lab, mirroring your own train of thought. he rummages through the shelves, his hands moving with a sense of purpose, until he emerges victorious, clutching a mannequin arm. "that's one way to get longer arms," you remark, a hint of amusement dancing in your voice, as cheongsan waves the prosthetic limb at you, his face split by a triumphant grin. you can't help but shake your head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

but absurd or not, the makeshift solution proves to be a stroke of genius. cheongsan uses the mannequin arm to snag the hose, pulling it towards him with a swift motion, before quickly closing the door and tugging the hose to safety. the plan, however unorthodox, has worked perfectly.

the hose scrapes against the wooden door, its rasping sound filling the air as cheongsan instructs everyone to tie it in a way that can secure a hand or foot. joonyeong chimes in, "zigzag! make it a zigzag," his correction transforming the makeshift rope into a sturdy, climbable fixture. with the rope readied, it's swiftly thrown out the window, the same window that bore witness to isak's tragic demise. you, gyeongsu, and cheongsan cautiously peer out, scanning the area below to see if the rope reaches a safe haven.

daesu, still recovering from his ordeal, can't help but chuckle at the sight of the three of you, "you guys look like the three stooges," he wheezes out, his laughter punctuated by a fit of coughing. but his mirth is short-lived, as a zombie's sudden appearance at the door sends a jolt of fear through the room, and daesu's expression turns grave.

"i'll go down and check the empty rooms," cheongsan declares, his voice firm. "i'll call when it's clear, okay?" the others nod in unison, their faces set with determination. but then, cheongsan's gaze shifts, his eyes locking onto onjo with a fleeting glance that speaks volumes. you catch the look, a subtle exchange that hints at a deeper concern.

"actually, someone else should go," cheongsan says, his tone firm but laced with a hint of protectiveness. wujin nods in agreement, his hand on gyeongsu's back. "you should go, gyeongsu."

gyeongsu's eyes widen in disbelief, his face scrunched up in a comical mix of shock and protest. "what? why me?" he asks, his voice laced with incredulity, as if he can't fathom why he's been chosen for this task.”

"it's alright, i can go," you say, already starting to climb, but wujin's firm hand pushes you back, earning a scathing glare from you. "you can't go!" wujin insists, his eyes darting to gyeongsu, who's still looking uncertain. "look, you're gonna make an injured guy go first?" wujin asks, his tone calling out gyeongsu, as he gestures to your injured state.

gyeongsu mutters a curse under his breath before beginning his descent, his movements cautious and slow. you, wujin, and cheongsan watch anxiously, offering words of encouragement as he makes his way down. just as you're focused on gyeongsu's progress, a sudden hand on your hurt shoulder shoves you aside, making you wince in pain. nayeons determined face appears, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "i wanna go down first!" she shouts, her voice firm and resolute. wujin's eyes widen in surprise, his hands gesturing towards your injured form. "hey, what the hell?" he asks, his tone a mix of confusion and concern.

"one person at a time," cheongsan cautions, his voice calm and measured, as he addresses the visibly irritated onjo. "you might fall if it shakes too much." you can't help but think, "should've put her down first...then shook the rope," your muttered remark a silent critique of the situation, accompanied by a withering glare that goes unnoticed in the tension-filled moment.

the air is thick with unspoken frustration, as the group waits with bated breath for gyeongsu to complete his precarious descent, the rope creaking ominously under his weight.

a sudden shout from below electrifies the air - "ms. park is here!" gyeongsu's voice rings out, and you gasp with excitement, your heart racing with hope.

"oh, thank god," you exhale, a sigh of relief washing over you as the weight of their predicament momentarily lifts. cheongsan's voice cuts through the din, his words a rallying cry - "ms. park is on the second floor, let's go, guys!" and with that, the group begins their descent, one by one, down the makeshift rope.

nayeon goes first, followed by daesu, jimin, hroryeong, joonyeong, wujin, namra, and finally onjo. you and cheongsan are the last two left, and your mind is a jumble of thoughts as you help each friend make their way down. but as cheongsan turns to you, his eyes expectant, you realize with a jolt of fear that you can't possibly climb down with one hand. a sense of resignation washes over you, and you prepare to accept your fate, separated from your friends.

"alright, your turn," cheongsan says, his voice firm, but you don't move. instead, you force a smile, trying to mask your growing unease. "you go first," you say, your voice laced with a false bravado, as you desperately try to hide your fear.

just as cheongsan is about to speak, his gaze drops to your arm, visible through the torn shirt. his eyes widen in concern as he takes in the swollen, purplish hue of your injury. but before he can express his worry, you preemptively cut him off, trying to rush him into action. "come on, we don't have much time," you urge, attempting to divert his attention from your injury.

however, cheongsan refuses to be swayed. instead, he gently but firmly passes the rope back to you, his eyes locked on yours with a resolute determination. "no, you go first," he insists, his voice firm but laced with a deep concern. "i'm not gonna leave you behind."

"cheongsan! come on!" gyeongsu's voice echoes from below, urgent and insistent.

cheongsan peers out the window, his head momentarily disappearing from view. "hold on! we're coming!" he shouts down, before turning back to face you. the next few seconds are heavy with unspoken tension, as you both glance behind you, witnessing the ominous sight of chairs crashing to the ground, overwhelmed by the relentless pressure of the zombies. then, without warning, cheongsan grabs your arm, his eyes burning with determination. "now! go!" you urge him, but he resists, his grip tightening.

"wait," he says, his voice low and resolute. "i'll go first, but come right after me. i can lead your foot to the next loop. it'll be easy, but we gotta get out of here fast. we need you, y/n, you can't end it like this." his words are laced with a deep conviction, a refusal to leave you behind.

to say your eyes watered at his words was an understatement - they welled up with emotion, threatening to spill over at the sincerity and conviction in cheongsan's voice.

"fuck it. let's go," you say, a fierce tenacity feeling within you. you both nod, a silent understanding passing between you. cheongsan swiftly begins his descent, waiting for you below. but just as you start to climb out the window, the sound of desks crashing to the ground echoes through the lab, followed by the ominous scuttling of zombies as they claw their way into the now-empty room. you hastily swing one leg over the windowsill, cheongsan guiding the other as it searches for a foothold. "next step, y/n, let's go!" he urges, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos. your arm protests with a sharp cramp, strained from holding your weight so tightly against the wall, but you grit your teeth, refusing to give in to the pain.

as you start your descent down the ladder, a sudden, terrifying sight makes your heart skip a beat - a bloodied girl leaps out of the window above, plummeting towards the ground. in a desperate bid to eat something, she grabs onto cheongsan's leg, causing the entire rope to shudder and sway precariously. "cheongsan! hold on!" you scream in horror, as cheongsan slides down the rope, his grip faltering.

frantically, you scan your surroundings for something, anything, to help, but you're utterly hopeless. you're powerless to intervene, unable to do anything but watch in despair.

"shit, try to shake her off!" you shout down to cheongsan, your voice laced with desperation. cheongsan grunts in effort, trying to dislodge the girl, but her grip is unnaturally strong, refusing to yield.

thats when you hear a familiar deep voice, “cheongsan-ah!” you look upward to see lee-fucking-suhyeok on top of a window ledge above where you both had just climbed down from. you looked up at him with relief, “suhyeok!”

#all of us are dead #allofusaredeadfanfic #angst #enemies to allies #lee su hyeok #male reader #suhyeok x male reader #suhyeok x reader #all of us are dead x reader #bxb #gay #fluff

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zebarius · 1 year ago

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I find it really funny how just yesterday I posted about how Secret Life Scar reminds me of Scar from his The Crafting Dead series.

And then, when episode seven came out today, there's literally a zombie apocalypse and he's trying to snipe the infected with his bow just like he used to snipe zombies from his watch tower in TCD.

Except this time, Scar doesn't succumb to the hordes by his own choice.

Instead, Scar loses the battle and becomes one of them.

The plot line!!!! the angst potential!!!!!!

Guys, I'm absolutely rioting.

#secret life #secret life smp #traffic series #trafficblr #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #gtws tcd #gtws #the crafting dead #life series

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starlightshadowsworld · 8 months ago

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Trials of Apollo except the battle between the zombies leads to someone unexpected showing up to help.

Frank is holding his own scattered from the others. He's doing his best and his best seems enough until a straggler comes out nowhere and knocks him down.

But the blow that should've followed is blocked.

And not by him.

Frank's sword that had been knocked out his grasp is being held by no other, than Jason Grace.

Tears well up in Frank's eyes, it hadn't been that long he'd said his final goodbyes. And yet here Jason stood, sword in hand and battling against the other Eurynomos who'd hit Frank.

He growled in warning, lighting bursting from his fingertips and sending them to their death(?)

Frank got to his feet and Jason turned to look at him. He looked so different, his skin was discoloured and his eyes sunken.

The scar on his lip was more pronounced, as were the many others covering his hands and body.

But the smile on his face told Frank more than the save did that Jason was on his side.

Frank took a coin out of his pocket, one he'd been holding on for safekeeping... For good luck.

He tossed it at Jason who caught it instinctively and flipped it into the air.

Catching it, now in the form of his gladius. Jason tossed Frank's weapon back to him which he caught.

A horde of Eurynomos began flocking to him and Jason looked at Frank, expectantly.

"Well, what's the verdict Praetor?"

Frank smiled "kick their asses and find the others." Jason nodded, standing at his side and assuming his stance.

As both Praetor's, past and present fought together.

#trials of apollo #jason grace #frank zhang #heroes of olympus #the burning maze spoilers

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karl-jensen · 1 month ago

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HOW IT FEELS TO PLAY ENDLESS... AND (ATTEMPT TO) GET THE OLD GUARD

This is heavily inspired from Starship Troopers... also there are five men and one woman.

It depicts surviving soldiers in the Battle of Waterloo surviving endless rounds of Zombies. I thought up of a story that would make this one look more interesting, and it will be featured in the comments. Also, the entire story is NOT CANON to the game and is deemed a Headcanon.

Originally, there was supposed to be a caption above that reads "When you and the squad want to get Soldats de ma Vieille Garde", as well as a number 29 on the bottom left indicating that they are rounds away from unlocking the Old Guard. I decided to scrap it entirely.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Companion Piece: Alex Miles's log

In this fictional log written by Alex Miles, he expresses his praises of Marshal Ney when he led him and the others in what appeared to be endless waves of Zombies. Prior to the events of Hougoumont, The armies retreated west to prevent infection of the Blight. Many soldiers stood their ground and among them was Marshal Ney, who was left alone for one reason; that being his betrayal of Napoleon, and to serve as his punishment, he was left behind with a few regiments for him to command.

Several English, Prussian and French soldiers seek shelter in Hougoumont, but what they did not expect was the arrival of Marshal Ney and the rest of the French Army. A tremendous uproar between French Soldiers came when they had heard news that Ney promised to the French King that Napoleon be arrested, this citing death threats to the disgraced Marshal. A Prussian Officer (Karl Mackensen) of the 1. Garde Regiment zu Fuß ended the arguments when he and Ney agree to work together to survive the night and potentially signal Napoleon and the other Generals to return and evacuate.

They fought for thirty five waves until finally being reinforced by Napoleon's Old Guard at 06:00. The horde grew larger as the evacuation commenced, and Marshal Ney sacrificed himself by ordering some of his men to hold their ground to buy the evacuation party more time. Ney was disgraced by Napoleon, but was hailed a hero to some for his gallant actions.

#concept art #illustration #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #video games #drawing #sketch #napoleonic era #guts and blackpowder #guts & blackpowder #g&bp #g&b #g&b oc #roblox #napoleonic wars #napoleonic roleplay scene #waterloo

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guardian-of-da-gay · 2 months ago

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Read on Ao3

For Whumptober 2024 Prompt(s) 4: Hypnosis, Hallucinations, "You're still alive in my head"

tw for mind control, hurt no comfort

When Sonic heard that G.U.N. needed help facing a ‘necromancer’ with a ‘zombie horde’ at his beck and call, his first reaction was: ‘Are these contagious zombies?’ Upon finding out they weren’t, his second reaction was ‘That sounds awesome!’. Like yeah, fighting zombies, like fighting robots, wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. But as long as he had to fight some bad guys, might as well have them be guilt-free, disposable baddies so you can feel even more awesome when you kick their butts. But also… fighting a zombie horde just sounded cool!

Or at least that’s what Sonic thought when he ditched the evacuation effort with Knuckles. Then he actually saw them.

He’d expected the dirty fur and patches of bone shining under shriveled skin. Wasn’t too surprised to see their eye sockets glowing a sickly green. He wasn’t expecting their threadbare clothes to be colored leather. Their stringy hair to be frayed dreads. The masks carved like owl skulls that had haunted his dreams since he was a kid.

Sonic bolted.

He was miles away before he was able to process:

Those had been echidna corpses.

Knuckles wasn’t with him.

Sonic had left him behind.

Maybe if he hadn’t, things would have been different. Maybe Knuckles wouldn’t have joined forces with the necromancer. Sorry, maybe ‘Enerjak’ wouldn’t have joined forces with the necromancer, since that was the lame new name he was trying to make happen.

He’d thought he’d known Knuckles. Thought the ‘sacred vow’ Knuckles made to protect their planet was something he took seriously. Thought their new tribe meant more to him. But maybe it was less that his new tribe didn’t mean much to Knuckles, maybe his old tribe just meant more, even if there was just one freaky psychopath left.

Sonic had never laid eyes on the necromancer himself, but he had it on good authority (G.U.N.’s) that he was an echidna. An albino one. Apparently he’d chosen to embrace the ‘evil albino’ stereotype and raise an army of dead echidna. And somehow Knuckles was not only cool with this, but seemed to be having the time of his life destroying everything in his path with his little corpse soldiers in tow.

All the Wachowskis (plus Wade) seemed to have a theory for why Knuckles would reappear as the hordes’ flagship warrior. Some were more charitable than others, varying from ‘he’s been tricked’ to mind control/hypnotism/possession to ‘he doesn’t want to be on the side of the guys blasting his people’s bodies with bazookas’ to ‘the echidnas have always done dubious things so why shouldn’t Knuckles too?’. That last one was Tails’ theory. Some days, after a really hard fight, Sonic found himself agreeing.

They never say it out loud, but Sonic was sure they’d all considered the fact that the necromancer controlled dead people. Knuckles’ pupils glowed the same green as the other echidna’s empty eye sockets. And none of them had gotten close enough to get his pulse. But that option was unthinkable. Plus Knuckles didn’t act the same as the zombies.

While the blank-faced corpses destroyed all in their path, Knuckles seemed to… enjoy himself. The zombies never spoke, but Knuckles did. He’d laugh or yell or bark orders to the horde like he was really their leader. Sonic had never been able to get Knuckles to talk to him though… At least, not until today.

“Feels like we’re getting into a bit of a routine now, huh Knux?” Sonic dodged a flying fist. “You and the freak legion go after people. I try and stop you. G.U.N. blows up a bunch of stuff to stop you. We all go home tired.” He tucked and rolled around to Knuckles’ blindspot and immediately ducked the wild swing that followed. “Maybe we could spice things up a bit? I propose a dance battle.”

Knuckles threw another punch.

Sonic dodged, keeping light on his feet. He zipped around the next few swings, trying to keep up a steady stream of banter. He was the fastest thing alive, but the goal today was to go slow. G.U.N. was evacuating another neighboring town before the legion could reach it. He had to keep Knuckles busy so the town was empty when Knuckles finally flattened it.

Because the crappy thing about a zombie horde was that no matter what you did to destroy them, they picked themselves up again. And Sonic had kinda, sorta, never beat Knuckles in a fight. They were playing defense right now.

And to make things even crappier: Knuckles fought differently now. He hit harder. Which Sonic didn’t think was possible. Where before Knuckles put some control and thought into how much force was behind his punches, now it was like he threw everything he had into each one. Sonic couldn’t afford to be hit even once now, because Knuckles was hitting to break rocks and Sonic was a lot squishier than that.

Knuckles was also a lot faster. Not faster than Sonic, of course, but faster than before. Apparently if he kicked off the ground harder, his strength would carry him faster and further. The downside? He trashed the ground every time. Sonic knew he only had a limited window before the terrain would get hard to manage for both of them. Then Knuckles would try and push the battle further away, closer to his target. Sonic had to avoid that. So even though he didn’t really want to talk to Knuckles, he said anything he could think of to try and distract him.

“You know, it’s funny how it’s always you and never that other guy,” Sonic said. “The creepy white echidna? Whatsisname. Where’s he at? Why’s he always sending you out like his personal servant boy?”

“I am no servant!”

Sonic was so surprised to hear him talk, he nearly lost his footing. Knuckles’ next swing almost connected. The wind was strong enough to throw Sonic off balance and he had to use his speed just to keep his feet. “Could have fooled me!” He stalled. “Isn’t this just what Robotnik did? Have you fight his battles so he could sneak around being evil?”

“Finitevus is not evil!”

Sonic dodged the next swing but landed on unstable ground. He had to put on a burst of speed to get away before it could collapse. “I beg to differ,” he said once he had solid footing. “Look what he’s done to your people!”

Knuckles blasted forward, throwing up a huge cloud of earth and dust behind him. He shot ahead of Sonic, feet digging trenches into the dirt to stop himself. “He brought my people back!”

Cue the zombie horde. A group of them dropped from the trees, surrounding them.

Sonic’s first instinct was still to bolt when he saw those masks. He was getting better at making it a productive flight instinct though! Case in point: when a group of them dropped from the trees to surround him, he immediately went fast enough that time seemed to slow. He ran over the nearest one, breaking through their line and into the surrounding forest.

Time caught up with him when he’d put enough distance between them that he didn’t feel like he was going to have a heart attack. His earpiece crackled and he heard Tails’ voice:

“Sonic, we finished evacuating the town. G.U.N is just clearing out now. Can you hold him a few more minutes?”

Sonic pressed one finger to the earpiece. “Got it,” he said. More echidnas appeared out of the woods. The legion was getting closer. Soon there’d be way more than Sonic could handle. “Tell Commander Walters to hurry up!”

“Do you need me to come back you up?”

“I’m fine–”

Knuckles tackled him to the ground. Crap, crap, crap! Sonic got to see that sneer he’d grown to despise up close. “Who is a the servant here?” He asked, raising his fist.

“We have more of a collaborative relationship.” Sonic tried to squirm away, but Knuckles caught him by the ankle and pulled him back. Sonic kicked him rapidfire and Knuckles was forced to back off or take it all on the face. Sonic rolled onto his feet and put some space between them.

“G.U.N. and I just mutually agree that making the world safe is the best thing for everybody,” he tried to keep his tone nonchalant so Knuckles might not notice the slight breathlessness.

“Not everybody,” Knuckles snarled. “Finitevus will make the world safe for us!”

Sonic snorted and looked around, trying to mask his unease as more of the undead soldiers appeared. “Safe for who? You’re the only one still here!”

Knuckles swung forward. “Are you blind? They’re right here!”

Sonic tucked into a ball and zipped away. He unrolled in front of a walking corpse. “Are you blind?” The zombie swung a broken spear shaft and Sonic dodged. “They’re dead!”

Knuckles blasted toward him, his power bursting off him in a violent, red wave. “NO, THEY’RE NOT!”

The wave forced Sonic off his feet. He tucked up again and unrolled several yards away. Knuckles’ blast had even sent his army flying.

Knuckles tugged his fist free from the earth and lurched to his feet. “Finitevus returned them to me so we could fight together!”

Sonic stared at him. “Are… are you actually crazy?”

“I’m not crazy!” Knuckles said, looking utterly deranged. He ran at Sonic, but Sonic wasn’t really in a fighting headspace at the moment.

What the hell was going on? Knuckles didn’t think these guys were dead? “Okay then, I guess I’m just confused.” Sonic dodged Knuckles’ first swing and darted behind a guy who was literally just a skeleton in armor. “This guy? Definitely dead. There’s no coming back from ‘no skin or organs’.”

Skeleton Guy turned to attack. Sonic knocked his head off, lip curled in disgust. The rest of Skeleton Guy flailed, searching around for its head.

“I’ve had enough of your lies!” Knuckles bowed over the skeleton to charge Sonic.

Sonic dodged Knuckles even as he watched the skeleton feel around for his skull. “... Do they talk to you?”

“Talk!” Knuckles yelled back.

Then he slowed to a stop. The vicious expression Sonic had come to know and hate suddenly faltered.

“Talk?” He said it like he didn’t understand the word. He looked around at the legion, first one way, then the other. For the first time since this all started, he seemed unsure.

The quills stood up on the back of Sonic’s neck. What was happening?

“They can’t talk…” Knuckles breathed faster. “They… they were hurt so badly.” The glow in his pupils sputtered and he swayed slightly.

Sonic’s heart began to race. Suddenly Wade’s mind control/hypnotism/possession theory didn’t feel so farfetch'd. But if that was the case, how did he pull Knuckles out of it? Talking about his people being dead seemed to have been some kind of trigger. Which sucked, but Sonic was grasping at straws, so he went for it:

“They died, Knuckles,” he said, watching Knuckles closely to gauge his reaction. Knuckles waivered, looking around at the hoard like he was looking at them for the first time. The glow in his eyes was sputtering like a candle in the wind. “They can’t talk,” Sonic continued, “because they’re not really here. He didn’t bring them back, he’s just using their bodies.”

“No! Father–” Knuckles looked around, and there was a frantic edge to it now. “Where…? He’s not here–who are–I don’t–” He took a step back. “I don’t recognize any of you!”

Sonic stared. This was like seeing the confused Mr. Krabs meme in real life. It was actually horrifying! He’d been saying Knuckles was being crazy since he came back all sadistic and psychotic but this was… this was like for real psychosis. Knuckles was genuinely shocked to see the people with him weren’t his family. They weren’t even alive.

“Knuckles?” He asked, holding his hands out flat. “Knux?”

“Father hasn’t spoken to me,” he said. “Why wouldn’t he…?” Knuckles scrunched his eyes closed and pressed a hand to his head. His teeth clenched, pained.

If an undead horde could hold its breath, that’s what the echidna corpses around them were doing. Sonic certainly was. He dared to take a step forward, then another. He hadn’t been within arms reach of Knuckles and felt safe for months. He still didn’t feel safe now, but at least now he knew his brother was still in there.

“Knux…” He reached out and oh-so-gently touched Knuckles’ shoulder.

“No!” Knuckles jerked back, staggering. “You’re lying! You’re trying to trick me again!” He clapped a hand to his head again. He cringed from something Sonic could not see. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to focus on Sonic in front of him.

Tails’ voice crackled into Sonic’s ear. Everyone was clear, he could retreat now. Sonic stayed put.

“I’m not trying to trick you,” he said. “It’s that Finitevus guy who’s trying to trick you.”

“No,” Knuckles closed his eyes and jerked his head so hard his dreads swung. The hand at his head balled into a fist. He hit himself and Sonic had to suppress the urge to rush forward and stop him.

“I can trust Finitevus!” Knuckles yelled. “I can trust my people,” he said quietly.

Knuckles straightened, fists falling to his sides as he squared his stance. He opened his eyes. “I can trust myself…”

Sonic watched in horror as Knuckles’ pupils filled with green.

“I can trust my own eyes!”

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markrosewater · 6 months ago

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Some Magic-inspired stories, all about bonding with my son, who is now 7-and-a-half: I don’t remember what I did first to get him interested in Magic, but it was probably playing with my friend Max, who taught me and my now-wife how to play - but I know Duels of the Planeswalkers on Xbox 360 helped get my son into the game with the effects and music but especially archenemy variant and a Nicol Bolas final match.

In the years since then, he and I occasionally get to talking about his favorite creature types and characters, and after quite some time, we have slowly narrowed down his choices to 4: Spiders, Zombies with Liliana, Nicol Bolas, and Niv-Mizzet. Not surprisingly, two of Magic’s most common dragons in that list. I don’t know what it is with dragons but I’m glad WotC had realized their appeal so they’re prominently there for my son to enjoy, and with quite a few options so he may get a Nicol Bols dragon deck that’s much different than any dragon deck I have tried to make myself

Thanks to War of the Spark, I finally created a Horde Magic deck and he loved hearing about the storyline of Amonkhet and Hour of Devastation leading up to the actual WAR set, as I explained those stories using key cards before we started the game, to establish the setting. Coincidentally, it was my son with his Gideon that ultimately dealt the final blow - no need to sacrifice himself the way it played out in our match! My son will still reference this game and it’s nearly been a year.

Also since that time I learned that the classic Planeswalker webcomics had been bundled as graphic novels, so I got those and our nighttime routine for a bit was to read about Garruk’s corruption by Liliana and that build up to Rise of the Eldrazi and Mirrodin Besieged; coincidentally we finished as March of the Machine previews were going on, and my villain-loving son is now waiting for me to build a Phyrexian horde so he can battle Elesh Norn. We look forward to many more years with the game, and especially learning what comes next for some of our favorite still-active villains: Ashiok, Oko, and Tezzeret!

Thanks for sharing.

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dryococelas01 · 1 year ago

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I've been thinking lately about a particular character archetype that's been really emotionally resonating with me for a while. I've had trouble pinning down exactly why and thought if I rambled on a bit maybe that would help get my thoughts in order.

I'm gonna dub the archetype the Quixote, for reasons that will soon be obvious. Both of my examples are, funnily enough, created by games workshop.

Content warning for, I guess, severely altered states of mind, alzheimers/dementia, insanity, cannibalism and I'm not sure what else. This is a bit of a weird one to tag. I'll put mental illness as a tag even if its a fantasy mental illness rather than anything real.

So I'm gonna introduce the 2 examples first, so everyone's on the same page. They are Nemesor Zandrekh of warhammer 40k and the Flesh-Eater Courts of Age of Sigmar.

So quick Zandrekh crash course. He was part of a race called the necrontyr, they got forcibly uploaded into robot skeleton bodies by soul eating gods called the c'tan and got their souls eaten in the process, becoming the necron. In the process most of them lost all personality, with the nobility being allowed to keep between aspects and the whole of theirs. They then managed to turn on and kill the ctan, and went into a several millenia long sleep. Many of the ones who still had their personalities have odd quirks as a result of their uploads, the long sleep, too early wake ups etc.

Zandrekhs condition is that he does not see the world as it is. To him, his body is flesh and blood. The many aliens and armies he fights are necron rebels and separatists, the mindless robot armies he commands loyal troops.

He has a bodyguard, Oberyn. Oberyn takes care of him. He stands by as his Lord holds feasts of rotten food for prisoners of war he regards as enemy ambassadors, watches his lord attempt to shove food into the flat metal grin where his mouth was. If one of these PoWs or a noble under zandrekh, sick of his nonsense, tried to deal with Zandrekh, Oberyn deals with them.

He stands by him until the end. He knew and loved his lord before they were machines, and he does so now.

(Quick note: some people interpret this as romantic love. I don't but I can see why. To me I have strong recent memories of my dad and me taking care of my grandma whos mind has aged, and that's how I see it. We do explicitly as of the novel Severed have obyron describing it as love). (Second quick note: these 2 are explicitly based on Don quixote and Sancho, one of Zandrekhs old abilities was called something like tilting at solar mills)

That's your crash course on Z. Now the Flesh Eater Courts.

The FSC ars a faction of flesh eating undead ghouls. They are withered and rotten, riding giant bats and undead dragons into battle, devouring the flesh of soldier and citizen alike.

But much like Zandrekh, that's not how they see things. They have a form of infectious delusion.

They are Noble knights. The giant bats are magnificent pegasi, the zombie dragon is alive and majestic, their barren wastelands beautiful and fertile, the hordes of ravenous ghouls the loyal citizenry at their command.

When they invade a civilian village, tearing at their flesh, devouring young and old alike, that's not how they see it. They see a goblin warcamp, a chaos cult hideout, a Necromancers castle. They ride in on their noble steeds, their loyal armies at their back, and save the day. And after? They have a grand feast, peasant and knight feasting side by side on rich and expensive meats.

You get the idea

This archetype so interests me for so many reasons.

Lets start with them as a moral question.

Is The Ghoul Evil? The ghouls have taken part in the butchery of innocents, the slaughter of villages and destruction of homes. They've eaten people and serve the whims of a far less deluded master.

But they don't see it that way. Not only that but they are incapable of seeing it any other way, their senses and minds completely in thrall.

There are plenty of people who do horrible things and see their actions as good, but they have the capability to be different. A violent white nationalist will no doubt say everything they are doing is for some greater good, but they have the capacity to change, they can be something that isn't a voilent white nationalist and there is evidence in the world around them that their views are wrong and abominable.

The ghouls cannot not be ghouls, they can't see the evidence in the world around them.

They can't see their rotten fraying flesh, their sharp teeth. They can't see the farmer they killed, they taste delicious chicken instead of human flesh, drink wine not blood.

They are Noble heroes to their eyes. And there's no way for them to know otherwise. They are doing good, to their eyes.

So is the ghoul evil? I don't think so. Their acts are evil acts, but there is no evil intent to them.

It's a very interesting moral question to me. I'm curious on your thoughts, if anyone sees this.

When the veil lifts.

Nate crowley recently wrote a novella about zandrekh called Severed, from the perspective of obyron. In it he based zandrekh on his experience of a relative with, and I can't remember which, alzheimers or dementia (hence the / in the content warnings).

There is an amazing moment, at one point, that I'm just gonna quote.

So obligatory, spoiler for the novella Severed.

__________________

‘Well fought, old friend,’ said Zahndrekh, with companionable warmth. ‘You really ought to have rested more, but we need to leave. I must commend your rather… straightforward method of dealing with the sorcerer’s engine, and it very much appears to have done the trick. Doahht has gone off like a light, and its legions with it. But without the engine, I fear the stability of the planet itself won’t last, so we’d be much better off in orbit. Are you ready for a short jaunt up to the Horaktys?’

Obyron nearly said yes, but then he remembered the engine’s true purpose. Or what it might have been – it was so hard to recall now.

‘But… our souls, Zahndrekh. The machine… it could give us our souls back. It could give us our bodies. Please, lord, let’s at least take part of it with us, so we can know for sure.’

‘Oh, dear vargard, why do you hold on to such things? You must let the thought of this awful contraption go.’ Zahndrekh put an arm round him in consolation, and continued.

‘Let me pose you this thought, Obyron, in the hope it will bring you ease. What do you think caused you to hold true to me for all this time despite all the power you might have enjoyed through betrayal if it were not a soul? What can love, but a being with a soul?

‘Even if we all ceased to be flesh and blood millions of years ago, which of course I don’t be-lieve for a moment,’ – Zahndrekh actually winked – ‘wouldn’t it have suited us better to live in denial of that, as some fools might say I had done? Wouldn’t it be better, Obyron, just to accept our fate, and enjoy immortality for the everlasting life of merry campaigning it has proved to be?’

Obyron stared hard at Zahndrekh, unsure of what he was hearing.

‘You old bastard. You knew all along.’

‘I knew nothing of the sort, old friend. But since you seem to be labouring under some delusion that you’re a soulless machine, I thought I should at least make some attempt to set you straight.’ Zahndrekh stood up then, and patted his thigh for Obyron to join him. ‘Come now, soldier. Up on your feet, and let’s return to the flagship. If we’re quick about it, we can have this all cleared up in time for a truly astonishing feast.’

Obyron, ever loyal, obeyed his lord. He would have wept, but he had no tears.

__________________

With the authors statement I'd say this is a moment of clarity, not zandrekh having known all along as Obyron imagines. I've seen grandma having many similar ones.

Zandrekh sometimes sees the horrifying reality he lives in, sometimes the fog lifts. And he prefers the fog. There's a lot more to pick apart from that quote but that's what I want to focus on.

Age of Sigmar has a trpg called soulbound, in which you can play a ghoul. If I ever find a play group I will.

Imagine a scenario, out adventuring team has just butchered a village. The ghoul is huddled on the ground, lifting the arm of a murdered young man who tried to defend his home, ready to eat it.

For a moment, the veil lifts. The noble Knight, defender of his people looks around him.

His good freind, the hedge mage, is raising an undead abomination out of murdered civilians. The noble Knight he rode besides has lined up survivors and is draining them of their blood. The beautiful noble lady he traveled with and hoped to court has no flesh, she's a vengeful spirit.

He sees his claws, and sees what he's eating.

Imagine the horror that sets in in that moment.

He doesn't know if he's seeing the truth, or if he's gone mad. If it's the truth then he knows he's a monster, his friends terrors, the people he saved flesh eating ghouls and the people he killed innocent civilians. If its not the truth, then he's gone mad, he's being tormented by some daemon or spirit, he's cursed.

Now, the veil would likely fall shortly after and he'd forget that moment of horror, but let's say it doesn't.

Let's say our noble Knight has a choice. He knows the truth of the matter, and can choose between the veil falling again or staying lifted.

Does he choose to keep it lifted?

I like to imagine I would, that I'd accept the guilt and horror of my existence and past actions and try to be a force for good.

I know that I wouldn't. I would accept the delusion, because fundamentally the horror of what I am and have done would be too much. Reality would break me, so I would retreat and allow the delusion to take me.

I'd like to imagine my noble knight would stand up and become a force for good, redeem himself. He is a noble knight, after all.

Zandrekh sometimes sees past the veil, but keeps acting like he doesn't because the veil is preferable to reality.

It makes a wonderful character moment, something beautiful and tragic beyond my words.

Whenever I think of these moments the veil lifts something in me cries. There's something so tragic about, in the case of the ghouls, someone that is noble, is trying to do good, but is incapable of. Something sad but strangely beautiful about zandrekh choosing to retreat into joy and fantasy rather than face reality.

I don't know how to put it, it just touches something in me.

I don't know, there's a lot more I want to say but I can't figure out how to say it. Hope my rambles were at least interesting.

#age of sigmar #warhammer 40k #wh 40k #40k #warhammer age of sigmar #aos #flesh eater courts #necron #necrons #nemesor zahndrekh #Zahndrekh #vargard obyron #obyron #tropes #cw: cannibalism #cw mental illness

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