#also this is extensive so i put it under the cut

[when-pigsfly]

bodyguard.

[bodyguard!john price x rookie actress!reader]

extension of this blurb. || minors, do not interact.

read on ao3

this was supposed to be a one-off thing but uh. my hand slipped? had to cut down the "price wouldn't do that" monster with my "i can do what i want" sword, and we got 3k of an unedited brain dump that i typed on my phone at six in the morning. also my first time writing something for price! woo!

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?"

Yelling secures you your first big project.

You can’t pay those bills until I land a job. A real job.

You’re almost certain your agent thinks you’re throwing a tantrum, and it leaves a coarse grit in your molars. You don’t like to pick fights. Hate it, really. But pushes are usually succeeded by shoves, and you can’t afford to get knocked out of the ring this time around.

The worst they can do is say no, right?

Thankfully, one yes is all you need to beg for. Your chariot arrives in the shape of a surprisingly low-budget rom-com, in simple terms. You and your C-list costar (flanked by a squeaky clean track record, thank god) are swept up in a soundless spiral of table reads and filming and wrapping before you can really, truly process.

But a warden stands guard at the eye of your perfect storm. John Price, assigned to you through your agency without so much as a proper word.

(“Squeaky clean,” apparently, didn’t take a history of overzealous stalkers into account.)

The peephole to your dilapidated apartment can barely contain him. blocks him—or attempts to do so—like a child might shield their sandcastle from the pulsing tide. Only, you think the tide might be more forgiving. He’s rooted in place, made harsher under the cracked fluorescent bulbs out in the hallway. They hum along with him. Faint, unless your breathing stills.

You’d feel a little more at ease if he were actually ex-military; the scraps of information you’ve been fed tell you that he’s been discharged, but you don’t believe it. Not for a second. You hadn’t been given much else apart from that and a face, but you could put together that he was disgustingly overqualified—not that you were complaining, though. Not yet.

You watch as John Price—Price?—gazes with a deceiving sort of apathy toward the end of the hall, then to the other, and back to the other end in three smooth seconds.

You think he’s seeing things till the apartment two doors down produces a tenant from its depths and price is turning, warding the disturbance off with an easy mornin’ and a wave of a large hand. He says nothing when they shuffle off awkwardly without a response, and the slow crawl of his opposite hand away from a flash of metal at his hip draws your pupil like a magnet.

It’s then that you note the suspiciously white shirt—rolled up to his elbows, tucked neatly into dark denim. hands tucked into pockets. Beard trimmed. Everything not protected by the skin on his body squared away just so, with just enough of his bulk on display to prompt that second spike of wariness.

A meticulous problem, then.

You peel yourself away from the door after an inhale and swing it open regardless.

The smell of tobacco and cologne hits your nose like a hammer the moment the door hits the bolt behind you, but you recover the feeling in your knees quickly. The fisheye lens doesn’t quite do him justice—you have to look up a bit to take another quick scan, cheeks cramping with the sudden momentum of your smile.

“I don’t see a bible or a pamphlet, so I’m assuming you’re not here to preach?” 

The joke doesn’t fall flat, but it does sail into one of the weaker bulbs before it shuts off with a buzz.

“…Captain Price, right?”

His eyes crinkle with a hint of what might be a grin. Under different circumstances, maybe. “Right on the mark. A pleasure to finally meet you, Ma’am.” But that thrum of irritation is there, as is the narrowing of his eyes when you extend your hand in greeting. “Just Price’ll do though.”

Hm.

He reaches up to fix his beanie just above his brow before giving your hand a firm shake. Definitely military. And hot as a furnace. You’re more than a little dizzy when he pulls back to check his watch, the inside of your wrist now raw from the grazing of a fingernail.

You can feel the skin he’s taken with him when he looks you in the eyes. Assessing. You don’t know why, but think you’ve won until he’s looking back down at his wrist.

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?”

Nine in the morning.

Or, at least it was thirty minutes ago.

“I—yeah. Lost track of time, sorry.” You scratch just under the collar of your shirt, straighten it out when the itch turns into a tingle you’re willing to overlook. You realize after an embarrassing beat that he’s probably asking for the actual time. “I sleep like a rock,” you add anyway. Your agency had actually given you three things, not two: a poorly put together profile, a face, and a meeting time.

It dawns on you now that a thirty minute “test of patience” with your back pressed to the door may not have been the way to go.

Price looks up, finally. Rolls his shoulders back as if to shed the pileup of gravity that’s compressed his spine in the half hour you’ve kept him waiting—and somehow, someway, seems to double the amount of space he takes up.

“That so,” he questions. Low in his throat, and a tad exasperated, because you’ve studied exasperation. Went into debt to have that understanding feel like a second skin. Which is why you observe, perplexed, as he gestures to the entryway. You think you feel your head nod, and he brushes past you to push through the door. “‘Nother habit we’ll have to kick.”

Any objections you might’ve had are killed in your throat the moment his prowl begins, and your socks catch on the scuffed linoleum as you flounder in after him.

The door slams back against the bolt while Price’s boots press the air out of your hardwood floors, squeals escaping with each heavy step. You squeak out a feeble excuse me alongside them once or twice, but to no avail. He can’t hear you, too intent on following some internal rhythm that takes him to the open window, the dusty cabinets, slipping fingers into the creases of a space you’re barely acquainted with yourself.

Something like nausea begins to bubble. You planned this. You’d planned out your introduction. Picked out your clothes, your shoes, where you’d grab coffee so you could build up your integrity and explain to him that you’re not looking to be coddled, he’d just get in the way. And now you’re wringing your hands, abject unease burning in a dense knot between your eyes while you figure out how to melt into the poorly hidden pile of dirty laundry.

There’s a delay in your processing, and you don’t start to catch up until Price finally slows down enough for you to realize he’s been talking.

He’s stooping over your dining room table, swiping a finger over his tongue before using it to card through old mail. “Real sorry ‘bout this, Ma’am. Not the most ideal introduction, I know, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch. Standard protocol—’m sure you know how it is, yeah?”

Price moves to turn over a stack of magazines on your dining table, and you wonder: were you supposed to know? You’re sure his question is rhetorical, and you’re certainly not inclined to answer. But something about the way it hits the water stains on your ceiling justifies the way he turns to look at you over his shoulder.

Concern. An uncut gem, plucked from some cavernous fissure that might be closer in proximity to hell than your own flesh and blood.

The crease between his brows deepens. “You have had security before, haven’t you?”

“Don’t get out much. I do my work, come right home.” You shrug, but your shoulders can’t seem to come back down. Perhaps this was why they’d put him on leave—he couldn’t do math.

You shuffle a bit in place, kick aside a ratty tennis ball left behind from one of your pet sitting stints. It hits your refrigerator and he’s still looking down at your feet, so you look with him.

—at the last two toes sticking out of your sock.

You rush to cover it with your other foot while Price sucks his teeth. He doesn’t move, hands still planted on the table, but each time he blinks his eyes are trained on something different.

Price lets out a sigh before he finally stands upright, perching his hands on his hips. “I'm surprised your people waited this long to call someone in. Right idiots they are, I’ll tell you that.”

Your people. You wrap your arms around your middle, pinch the fabric of your shirt between your fingers.

“I can't really blame them,” you say after a moment. Tip your chin up, a last ditch attempt at salvaging what little of your farce is left to cover yourself with.

Price tuts, strangely unconvinced for someone you’d only known for around ten minutes. “You’d be smart to blame them.”

“Don’t think I can do that when I'm working for them, Price.”

��Can’t you? S’clear they’ve done fuck all to look out for you.”

And you could. Should. Want to. So, so desperately need to. But you’re already saddled with enough things to hate. Hope of catharsis is an outbound ship, a blip on the horizon that you don’t have the funds to board. 

“…I don't follow.”

Price doesn’t flinch when the table rocks without the weight of the magazines to keep it steady, and neither do you.

“You don’t follow,” he repeats. Like a crucial detail has been lost in translation.

You shake your head.

“Well, that’s no good.”

Cigar smoke snakes its way into your headspace again when he strides past you to put his hand up against the door, muscles in his forearms flexing when he pulls at the doorknob. He beckons you closer, and you’re pulled out of orbit when you skirt close enough for him to reach, guiding your hand to the cool metal while he stands just behind you.

“Here,” he mutters. Your chest is a cushion, and the rumble in his chest is a bright red pin.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if the crackle of a walkie-talkie might bury how frighteningly human he sounds.)

“What am I looking for?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

He takes his hand off once you’ve stopped throwing glances at him, and your knuckles sizzle in his absence. What was he looking for? Nothing…looks different. 

You can’t focus. His eyes are on your neck, and you can’t focus.

And suddenly, you don’t like how close he is. You’re reminded of how he’d shoved his way into your apartment. Barely spoken to you before driving a stake through the bubble put together with your blood sweat and tears. Made you feel ashamed in your own home.

Righteous indignation flares up, and you’re spewing words you’re certain you believe in until they tumble out.

“If you’re just here to poke fun, I’m not—”

Pop.

You look down. The keyhole pokes just out of the doorknob and you look to Price, his face remarkably passive.

“Lock’s been tampered with.” He runs a thumb over the offending protrusion, watches as it slots back into place. “You should see some scratches on the other side of it. Thought I noticed something when the door first slammed, but I didn't want to startle you in case my eyes were playing tricks. Can’t quite see like I used to.”

Why not get glasses?

“I would’ve put up less of a fuss if you’d told me up front.”

He looks at you, eyes a perfect congruence of something just beyond what your fingertips can touch. But he smiles, and you think you can understand. Maybe mash the pieces together. A distending warmth. Nepenthe sinking into every orifice until you’re expelling your woes through your nostrils.

Your axis tilts when Price puts a solid hand on your shoulder.

“It’s not good to lie, mm? Not to me.”

Not good to lie.

When you slide out from under his palm, his callouses snag on the exposed seam of your shirt. You toss him a grin, a bone. “Noted.”

Insecure seconds pass, but not without movement. 

It begins like this: Price walks away from the door, and you’re almost grateful for the squealing underneath his feet to fill the silence. He takes your stack of mail and magazines, sets them exactly as they had been before he’d entered. The table is righted, and he works in reverse from that point on.

Closing cabinet doors. Angling that picture frame you’ve been meaning to adjust for weeks. He’s putting things into their proper place, like setting bones before they’re enclosed in a stiff cast. 

You, though, are still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You really don’t need to—”

He holds out a hand. “Relax. ‘M just having a second go around.”

You bristle, but your decision to pad over to the couch is of your own volition. It caves in when you sit, and you wiggle to get the cushions to realign with your hips. Your hands feel around blindly for the remote to your TV before remembering you’d dropped it out of the window in a fit of anger some weeks ago, so you sit back, spine hitting the hard frame of the couch. Price’s noises pair well, somehow, with the wind sliding over the glass and the neighbors downstairs.

Until you feel his presence at the back of the couch, and a thought smacks you right across your forehead.

You shoot up, heart rate suddenly inflamed by panic. “Price?”

The movement stops, and you turn around, peer over to find Price prepped to duck his head under the couch. “Hm?”

“Uh.” You hesitate. Shit, think—

“H-how much are they paying you, anyways?” Good save. Maybe a little less than good.

You feel a little bad that you’d stopped Price mid-crouch; you can’t quite remember how old he is, but you know he’s old enough for knee pain to be a concern. He looks up as if crunching the numbers in his head. Hums. “Enough.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“Saw the picked lock, didn’t you?”

“Were you really discharged?”

“Depends. There something under this couch you don’t want me seeing?”

Looks like you can knock “interrogation skills” off of your list of special skills on your resume.

Your jaw snapping shut is enough to send his arm sliding under, and you can only watch in horror as his clutched hand emerges holding a scrap of thin blue fabric. He pushes himself up off of his knees. Takes his sweet time wringing out his back while your eyes track his hand like he’s got a thumb over the button of a detonator.

If he had any shred of decency—

“Another thing I caught on my way in,” he huffs. He holds out his hand and allows the blue fabric to uncurl. A flag, hung full mast right between your eyes. Another one of his tests. 

“Price.”

“C’mon, now. Take it from me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice; your arm shoots out and you win it back in one go. Stuff your lacy underwear into the pocket of your pants and wait for your ceiling to collapse in on you.

“Can’t leave pretty things like that layin’ around.” And Price stops, watches as you curl in on yourself. Voice like the push of velvet shifting underneath your palms. “Likely to rip if you’re not careful.”

You pull your head into your shirt and curl your knees into your chest. It’s a shock when you find yourself face to face with your heartbeat, the skin over your left breast jumping underneath your nose. “I think we’re done here.” 

Price makes that sucking noise again with his teeth—agitation, you think it’s agitation—and you trace the hazy shadow of him through your shirt as he steps around the couch to walk to the window. He snaps twice, and you’re beginning to entertain the thought of what might happen if you had enough strength to push him out.

“What now,” you croak.

“Eyes up.”

Slowly, you muster up enough spite to bring your head just above the collar of your shirt. Military men and their incessant need for…whatever the hell this was. 

“You’ve gotten better at this. Quick study,” Price remarks.

“Better at what.”

“Listening. That’s good, real good. That’ll make this a whole lot easier,” he says, a note of appreciation that you haven’t heard yet stirring that tiny pool of filth just underneath your navel. You hum.

Price crosses his arms. Flicks his stupid eyes toward the fluttering curtains. “How often d’you leave this open?”

Your face pinches. “I mean—pretty often? It’s hot, Price. And in case you haven’t noticed,” you wave your hand to the general state of disrepair, “I don’t exactly have good circulation in here.”

This gives him pause. Whatever plan he’s recalibrating, you want no part of it. You do notice that he hasn’t put his hands in his pockets since he showed up on your doorstep, instead favoring the use of his left hand to rub his chin. 

“Come over here and close the window.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. “...Close the window? Price, you can’t be serious.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Can’t…can’t you close it?”

“It’s not my window. Can’t do everythin’ for you.”

He stares at you expectantly. Your tailbone is beginning to throb, and for some damning reason, that note still ringing bright in the back of your skull. That’s good. Good, good, good.

Price catches that eager glint the moment it surfaces.

“Go on then, love.” He tips his head. “Close it.”

The rest of you surfaces slowly. You look back for a moment at the indent left on the couch, think about how long that imprint will be there until you feel inclined to fluff out those cushions again.

(Later. You’ll get to it later.)

Shutting the window doesn’t take much effort, but the swampy temperature is noticeable. You turn around a little too quickly, so you hold an arm out to the now sealed vault in an exaggerated show of bravado. I did it, see?

Price slides past you to look outside. He purses his lips when he finds what he’s looking for, and you can almost see the note being stashed into some faraway file.

He turns to you. “Keep this window closed till further notice,” and a hand reaches out to tug the curtains shut, and yellow from the lamp you’d left on last night washes over the room instantly.

“Price.”

“I take my work seriously. You take yours seriously, you’ll need me.”

It feels like a slap in the face. “I do, but that doesn’t mean—”

“My job,” and he points to himself, then to you, “is to keep you out of harm's way. Can’t do this if you don’t trust me.”

“You’re asking a lot for someone who hasn’t—”

You go silent as he reaches a hand into a back pocket, pulls out his hand and you count one, two, three square devices around the size of a nail.

“Busted lock, three faulty cameras, all outside. You’re lucky these people are idiots.” He shoves the. back into his pocket before returning his focus to you. “You need me.”

You blink. 

Price smiles, raises his eyebrows as if the conversation is already over. “Hungry?”

You stumble back. “But what about—what about the apartment?”

“S’fine,” he says. He checks his watch. “I know a couple guys, you’re in good hands.”

[mamadarama]

spoilers for the matrix event kind of ?

so i read the translation today of the whole event and it's just unbelievably bad , I'm not sure if you had a chance to look through . and takashi who's basically a little hiiro but actually he's a child of producer rinne once had with god knows if their father or just someone from amagi family ? it feels like a really bad fanservice and I'd like to hear you thoughts if you read this . it's okay if no and you can't really comment on that but i couldn't keep silent so forgive my off topic ramble .

i hope you will have a good day or night

{major matrix spoilers}

i just read the story myself. its alright, not much worse than any of the others, just hard to follow because its all rinne being rinne. its not really that fanservicy imo, i thought id hate it more than i do . my biggest gripe is akiras choice of dialogue for aira . again. i really wish he would stop doing that but thats besides the point.

edit: i also wanted to add that the part where tatsumi and mayoi are worried about hiiro and aira and theyre like "theyll be fine theyre strong capable people" and it immediately cuts to aira screaming bloody murder absolutely sent me

heres a summary of the story from what ive gathered . this is a long one so ill put it under a read more

rinne set up an elaborate scheme to protect the privacy of his hometown. when rinne first went to the city he saw an unnamed idol that inspired him to become one himself. that idol retired and became a teacher at an all girls school (i wanna bet its kimisaki academy. thats unimportant to the story tho.), and his producer , akan, was left struggling until she met rinne and began producing him. unfortunately the job became too much for her and she began to crack under the pressure, and had to retire for her own health. rinne told her about his hometown, where she would be able to live out the rest of her life in peace. to ensure no one would go looking for her , they set up a plan— they pitched a fake mystery program where she would go investigate a phenomenon in the area of the village, and "disappear mysteriously". the footage would never be released because of the "incident", and as long as they didnt find her she would be declared dead after being missing for long enough, therefore closing the resulting missing person case and leaving her to be unbothered and truly leave her past behind and start over. while she was living in the village she met rinnes father, and they eventually got married and had a kid, takashi (its never mentioned that hes their kid, but rinne says his father wishes he could make takashi his heir instead of rinne, implying hes his son) . he looks like hiiro because the amagi family has strong genes (and also likely because the devs could repurpose kid hiiros live2d model). rinne noticed his fans were getting increasingly curious about his hometown and worried that the extra attention would eventually cause trouble for the people in his village, and by extension disrupt the peaceful life akan had built there. his solution was to "reveal" his hometown in a tv program and satisfy his fans curiosity so theyd drop the subject. but he couldnt just make a program for no reason, so he pitched the matrix event , part of which would be hosted at the "amagis village". he didnt want it to be a large scale event, so he contacted the retired idol akan used to produce and asked him to pose as akan to produce the event since he was the only other person to have known her well enough to impersonate her and capitalizing on the fact that no one remembered who akan is or what she looked like. anzu ended up getting involved and as a result it turned into a much bigger event than rinne intended for it to be . the "village" that the event was hosted in was actually the contact point for the actual village, a place that looked convincing enough but was really just used as a meeting point for the village to import resources from the city without exposing their real location. but of course in typical rinne fashion, he only reveals this to the rest of alkakurei at the very end, so everyone was just very confused the whole time. rinne also claims takashi is his and anzus kid at first, but no one believes him of course because that makes no sense.

tldr; rinne is worried that his fans are getting too curious about his hometown and might eventually lead to it being exposed, so he stages a fake reveal to satisfy his fans curiosity.

-----

i sorta like it. its not completely outlandish by enstars standards and it ties up a few loose ends about rinnes backstory (like what happened to his career as a solo idol before his duo unit with niki, why he became an idol, and who produced him before he met anzu) as well as further solidifying his character as someone who genuinely cares about the well being of others and will fight to protect them by any means necessary even if theyre not part of his life anymore .

[jayflrt]

a stoner’s guide to starbucks

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha, winter from aespa, beomgyu from txt, and dino from svt)

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fluff, stoner au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, zero braincells, limited knowledge of the starbucks corporation, weed consumption, dumb shenanigans, ignore timestamps!

SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i am alive (real) also i was so committed to the bit that i got high to make this <3 shoutout @hoonbear for the Extensive Starbucks Knowledge 🫡 i would also like to note that i am NOT doing a tag list for this smau. also please note that this is a fictional setting and to boycott starbucks in real life for firing their workers over their pro palestine speech

INCOMING MESSAGES !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

01. weed guy beomgyu

02. red bitch with the freckles rizz

03. starbucks public enemy #1

04. 50% cut ???

05. lee heeseung: upstanding citizen, NOT murderer

06. clearing up misunderstandings with an aqi under 50

07. chat is this real

08. daddy’s home 2

09. biodegrade ur chance at romance

10. triple filtered reverse osmosis water filtration system

11. losing the idgaf war

12. crazy gets u bitches

13. banned in the name of love

14. riki s worded irl??

15. 8ball brings nations together

16. killing myself postponed tonight repostponed

17. scheming sponsored by crazy bitch 62 and unimportant goon

18. the do-over date to end all first dates

19. seek BetterHelp.com

20. quarterly store meeting (remote)

21. WHAT ARE WE

22. heejake support group for heejake victims

23. bro fumbled the unfumbleable

24. sunghoon is the new Papa John

25. according to penal code 837 🤓☝️

26. jungwon pulls bitches (the duolingo owl) too

27. someone PLEASE take jungwon to see the teenage mutant ninja turtles movie

28. 14th date’s the charm

29. doc mcuggo

30. nothing to write home about

31. LONDON I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL I LOST MY QUEEN TOO

32. starbucks double chocolate brownies

33. having a kid together before dating is next level

34. tweaking out on 5 hour energy

35. 7.83 inches

36. The Milk Makes The Man, And The Man Makes The Milk

37. sunghoon from papa john's from starbucks

38. then who's flying the plane???

39. league of legends quarantine ex girlfriend

40. WELCOME HOME CHEATER 😐

41. unknown evil forces (chaewon)

42. friends to rivaling coffee shop employees au

43. do NOT get the weed frap

44. now on channel 9 news

45. choose your fighter heeseung tit variation

46. kitten i'll be honest, daddy's about to kill himself

47. a fire can be put out but missing a bereal is forever

48. baby's first customer connection score

49. #STARBUCKS_FIRST_WIN

50. epilogue

UNCUTS !

weekly weed check 🗣️

SUNGHOONXJLAW

happy weedsgiving

minjake texts

the Sunghoon Special

goons vs baby shark movie

COMPLETED 12/1/23

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius had the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[littlexdeaths]

whiplash - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

warnings: teeny tiny violence, reader has a panic attack, eddie is the sweetest, eddie and reader are in college

a/n: this is absolutely inspired by my first experience being shoved into a mosh pit at an avenged sevenfold concert when i was a wee teen. i hope you enjoy xx.

also shout out to my love @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the title and some of the dialogue, and my bby @undead-supernova for beta reading for me. ILY BOTH SO MUCH 💕

hot, sweaty bodies were pressed against you at all angles, nearly suffocating you. at this point you couldn’t even see the band playing on the stage, a sea of taller bodies now blocking your view.

when your best friend asked you to attend a metallica concert with her you didn’t exactly know what to expect.

but this definitely wasn’t it.

the small venue was packed, the air filled with the smell of sweat, marijuana and cigarettes. your choice of a leather jacket felt incredibly stupid as it was now tied around your waist due to the growing heat surrounding you.

your palms felt clammy as they clutched onto the hem of your friend’s shirt. the constant moving of the crowd seems to pull her farther and farther away from you. until the swirling pit of metalheads swallowed you both whole, losing sight of her head of blonde hair instantly.

your panicked shouts of her name were drowned out by the screech of an electric guitar— your body now being shoved around to the chants of ‘pounding out aggression.’ the song eerily fitting as you see a ringed fist connecting with another man’s jaw.

your heart is beating in your ears, that familiar feeling of panic washing over you as you continue to be shoved around like a rag doll amongst the group of men. until you somehow landed on top of someone… who had been knocked to the ground moments before you.

before you have time to react a large hand quickly wraps around your forearm, yanking you up and out of the dizzying circle of death. you all but let the stranger carry you through the crowd. the male shoving past throngs of people until you’ve safely reached the back of the bar.

you barely register his voice as you lean against the brick wall, chest rising and falling at an embarrassingly fast rate. your eyes squeeze shut as you attempt to get your breathing under control. those same hands that pulled you out now resting carefully on your shoulders, helping to ground you.

“hey sweetheart, you alright?”

his face finally comes into focus as you blink your eyes open, your heart now beating against your ribs for a completely different reason.

he was painstakingly gorgeous, full lips lifting up into a soft, dimpled smile. “there she is— hey man can i get some water?”

he slaps his hand on the bar top, the clear liquid sloshing out as a glass is slid over to him. his chunky rings clinking against the side as he grips it, now holding it up to your lips. “it’ll help, trust me.” you gladly take the glass from him, gulping down the lukewarm tap water.

“thank you…” you mumble, setting the now empty glass back on the bar and wiping the corners of your mouth. mentally forcing yourself to stay put, despite the bigger part of you wanting to run out of the bar from sheer embarrassment.

“are you here by yourself?” he asks, as you shake your head in reply before resting it against the brick wall behind you. the brunette seems to be studying you as you take in some slow but shaky deep breaths. letting yourself do the same as your heart begins to return to a normal rhythm.

even in the muted light you can see his dark curls were damp with perspiration, bangs sticking to his forehead. no doubt from being in the middle of that pit for quite a while. his cut off band tee showing off an extensive collection of tattoos. that soft smile morphs into a small smirk, as you realize you’ve been gawking at him.

calming breaths long forgotten.

“you can g-go back out there… w-wouldn’t want to keep you from the show.” you fumble over your words, now finding the sticky floor and your beat up sneakers far more interesting than the gorgeous metalhead before you.

the male chuckles, casually resting his shoulder against the wall next to you. his hot breath fanning over your cheek as he leans closer, “not a chance, sweetheart. until we find your friends, you’re stuck with me.”

you glance back up at him, surprise crossing your features. knowing most people would gladly leave you behind in the shadows, especially considering the band that’s owning the stage. that sentiment alone makes the butterflies raging your insides flutter even faster. the chaos of the crowd is now forgotten as he grins sweetly down at you.

“i’m eddie, by the way.”

the music has seemingly gotten louder since the two of you left the crowd, now having to shout your name back in reply despite the lack of space between you. his smile only widens as you turn to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest. “and what is a fair maiden like yourself doing in a place like this?”

you can’t stop the giggle from leaving your lips as he gestures dramatically around the dingy bar before his dark eyes are back on you. “oh no reason at all… just needed a study break.” he can tell from the ride the lightning t-shirt adorning your frame that you’re teasing him, but he plays along anyway.

“so you stumble into a random metal concert, only to get caught in a circle of death? that’s quite the break, sweetheart.” he nudges your foot with his own, earning another giggle from you. “something like that, yeah.”

he hums in response, running a hand through his unruly curls. “duly noted— i’ll have to take study breaks like that more often,” the two of you quickly fall into easy conversation, no longer paying attention to the concert goers surrounding you.

despite having only met him less than half an hour ago, you both seem quite comfortable with each other. any embarrassment from your small panic attack now a fleeting memory as he tosses his head back with laughter. the sound warming you from the inside, out.

“gotta say i’m a little shocked, first show and you’re already hitting the pits like a pro.” he jokes, leaning in a little closer to you. the scent of his spicy cologne washes over you, making your head spin, “practically took that guy out by sitting on him.”

you groan in embarrassment, playfully shoving his shoulder as he laughs again.

“i’ll have you know i’m quite fond of the music… just not the…” you gesture towards the sea of bodies that are jumping, shoving and headbanging to for whom the bell tolls. “moshing?” he finishes for you, as you nod sheepishly.

before he has a chance to say anything else, a loud squeal fills your ears as a body slams into you at full force. nearly knocking you over in the process, “there you are, babes! i’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

earlier you would’ve been relieved to hear your best friend’s voice, but now you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. hoping your emotions aren’t written across your face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. she’s a little too preoccupied with staring at the male leaning next to you.

“now who is this?” her tone is overly playful, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively. before she can embarrass you further, you elbow her in the ribs. effectively stopping anything else from leaving her mouth besides a little huff.

“eddie munson, certified mosh pit rescuer at your service ladies.”

he does a little half bow, causing both of you to break into a fit of giggles. “wow… a modern day knight in shining armor huh?” she teases but seems impressed nonetheless, “wish i had a hot guy to pull me out of there, i basically had to army crawl my way out.”

even in the shitty bar lighting you can see his cheeks are tinted pink from her compliment, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “it was nothing really, just happy to help.” he shrugs before pushing himself off the wall, sliding his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“modest too? where did you find him?” she gushes, gently bumping her hip into yours. “and does he have a brother?” she whispers that part to you, ignoring the way you roll your eyes at her.

“well i see you’re in good hands now, sweetheart, i hope you enjoy the rest of the show.” as he turns to leave you feel your friend shove you forward, giving you a look that screams, ‘are you insane? don’t let him get away!’

“eddie, wait!” you shout, gently tugging on the male’s wrist before he gets too far. that dimple making another appearance as he turns back to you, “miss me already?” eddie teases, fully enjoying the flustered look that crosses your features.

“i uh, i-i’d really like to thank my knight in shining armor properly… maybe over coffee?” you nervously chew on your lower lip, praying that you didn’t read this entire interaction wrong.

but seeing his face light up squashes any doubt, watching as he grabs a pen off the bar. holding the cap between his teeth as he takes your hand, scribbling his phone number onto your palm with a satisfied grin.

“looking forward to it, sweetheart.”

he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before disappearing into the rowdy crowd.

tagging some moots who seemed interested 💛

@babygorewhore @hellfirenacht @thepurplelovewitch @impmunson @voyeurmunson @madelynraemunson @take-everything-you-can @corrodedcorpses @serasvictoria @munsonhoneybaby @splendiferous-bitch @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs

all dividers made by yours truly 💕

[red-riding-wood]

PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

kittenonpluto's story

aurorag98's story

everyoneisawhore's story

your-nanas-house's story

hllywdwhre's story

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

[milf-murdock]

Hi!! I love love love your writing! Especially your 141!Reader series <3 I don't know if you take requests, but your last post about Simon and baby Joseph made me so angsty and I would love to read more angst from you. Could you please write about Simon thinking 141!Reader was KIA on a mission? Thank you!!!

Anon....who....who hurt you???? I’m kidding 😆 mostly 👀 But for real, this one HURT. Like. OUCH. This man has been through so fucking much…but let’s put him through a bit more 😈😈😈 also, I did very much hurt my own feelings with this one. So I’m thinking we might need a part two reunion because I don’t know if I can leave our Ghosty boy in shambles like this

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The rain patters against the window in a steady rhythm.

Simon watches the fat raindrops roll down the small window pane, one foot anxiously tapping against the concrete floor. He didn’t know why he was called to Price’s office, but there was an ominous charge to the air. Call it a premonition, or maybe an instinct, but he knew in his bones that something was wrong. 

The click of the door handle pulls Simon from his thoughts as Price enters the office, a heavy silence filling the air. 

“What’s happened?” Simon's voice has a hard edge to it, cutting straight through the bullshit. Watchful eyes appraise every detail of Price’s body language, and Simon notes the deep sunken look of his captain’s eyes accentuated by a somber expression. 

Price avoids Simon's gaze, staring down at the oak desktop before him as he takes a seat. The captain wasn’t one to mince words or beat around the bush, but even he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation despite his many years in the service.  

Simon's heart hammers in his chest, every second in the unknown feeling like an eternity. This isn’t right, he thinks to himself. 

Price steels himself with a deep inhale, pulling his gaze from the desk to face Simon head on, looking past the mask, speaking to the man he knew laid beneath. 

“I wanted you to hear this from me, son. You…deserve to hear this from me.” 

Simon stops breathing. 

With practiced determination, Price continues his speech, having rehearsed the words in his head the entire walk down to his office. 

“Reconnaissance mission, Operation Blackout, suffered multiple casualties after a long-range detonation by enemy action. There’s been no contact with the team, and rescue attempts were unsuccessful due to the extensive damage caused by the explosion. All team members are presumed KIA. The official course of action…”

The rest of Price’s speech is drowned out by the dull roar in Simon’s ears; his blood runs cold, his rigid body barely breathing. 

This can’t be happening. Not again. Never again. 

Simon's thoughts grip him by the heart, squeezing painfully. 

I can’t do this again.

He had already lost everyone once. Had built impenetrable walls, designed to protect him from this type of pain. 

But you. You and your goddamn charm, and your soft smiles, and your relentless fucking attitude. You broke down those walls brick by brick, made Ghost–no, made Simon– feel more like a man than he had in years. You slipped past his ironclad defenses and took his heart without him even realizing it. 

And just when he had finally opened up, just when he had finally convinced himself that maybe he could be happy–that you could be happy together. It all came crashing down. 

In the distance, Ghost could hear shouting. A chorus of denials piercing the air, heavy ragged breaths filling the silence between. 

A heavy hand fell on Ghost's shoulder and he found himself back in his body, looking up at Price, voice raw. 

With a stark realization, Ghost realizes it was him. He was the one shouting, the one gasping for breath. 

The world tilted out from under him. 

____________ 

Ghost left Price’s office a different man–a mere shell of the man who entered. With every step he took, he felt himself slipping further and further into the familiar safety of Ghost, an unpierceable facade moving through the world. 

Everything felt wrong. Every step. Every breath. He felt like he was moving underwater, every action taking twice the effort it should. 

The next few hours pass in a blur. The official order that he was being sent on leave. The ensuing argument with Price over the orders. He eventually just gave up. Leave, no leave, it didn’t fucking matter. 

None of it fucking matters. 

Johnny tries to see him before he leaves, meeting Simon on the tarmac. He tries to be there for his lieutenant, his friend. 

The red rim around Johnny’s eyes reminds Simon that he wasn’t the only one who had lost you. They had all lost you. But even that which should have been a comfort, a sort of kinship in the grief, meant nothing. Simon didn’t give a singular fuck. He turned away from Johnny mid-speech, leaving the Scotsman to sit in his grief alone as he watched Ghost disappear into the aircraft. 

____________ 

It takes every ounce of strength Ghost has to make it through the flight. To make it through the drive back home. To make it through that door. 

Keep it together, soldier. Don’t you dare fucking lose it, Simon Riley. Just a bit longer. 

His belongings crash to the floor as the door slams shut behind him. He doesn’t even bother turning on the light, instead using the faint glow of the moonlight through the curtains to guide him to the cabinet. 

Ghost pulls the bottle of bourbon from its resting spot, not even bothering with a glass as he pulls off the corked top and takes a hearty swig. 

The burn of the liquid is invigorating, filling Ghost with a quiet simmering fire. 

He takes another drink. And another. 

He walks through the flat in a daze, the amber liquid dulling his senses, sending him even deeper into the haze of his grief. 

Ghost finds himself in front of his dresser, staring at the wooden drawers. 

Taking another drink, he steels himself as he yanks open the top drawer. Rummaging beneath the pile of socks and t-shirts, Ghost digs out the small velvet box. He grips it tight in his hand, the small object groaning in protest as waves of rage and pain overtake Ghost, threatening to pull him under. Hot tears slide down his face, but he doesn’t even notice. 

With a roar he throws the velvet box across the room, the impact fracturing the drywall. Ghost’s knees go out from under him and he crashes to the floor, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. There would be no repairing this. No amount of time could heal this type of heartbreak. 

You were dead. 

And as far as Ghost was concerned, Simon Riley died with you. 

[wilwheaton]

I have a small part in the 1987 television movie (failed pilot) version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Lewis Smith played the titular character. Beverly D'Angelo played my mom, his love interest. (Fun Star Trek connection: Bob Picardo is also in it).

My character was a Troubled Youth, which I gotta tell you was not a stretch for me at all. I was deeply, deeply hurting at the time we made it. I was struggling not to suffocate on all the emotional and financial burdens my mom put on my shoulders, and fully aware of just how much my dad hated and resented me. You need a kid who doesn't want to be an actor, whose eyes can't hide the pain? I'm your guy.

Anyway, one of the scenes I was in took place in a record store, where Troubled Youth steals some albums, before he is chased by the cops and saved by the Man Who Fell To Earth, who uses a glowing crystal to save his life from ... some scratches on his face.

We filmed the interior of the record store at Sunset and La Brea, in what I think was a Warehouse, and at the end of the day, I was allowed to buy some records at a modest discount.

I was deep into my metal years, on my way from my punk years to my New Wave years, so I only bought metal albums. I know I bought more than I needed or could carry (I was making a point that I was allowed to spend my own money, mom), but the only ones I can clearly remember are:

Iron Maiden - Piece of Mind

Judas Priest - Turbo and Defenders of the Faith

W.A.S.P - The Last Command

(I know this was in March of 1987, because Turbo had just come out.)

Of those, Piece of Mind is the only one I never really stopped listening to, even through all the different it's-not-a-phase phases. I still listen to it, today.

Ever since I became an Adult with a Fancy Adult Record Player And All That Bullshit, I have kept my records in two places: stuff I want right now, and stuff I keep in the library because of Reasons.

Generally, records move in one direction toward the library, even if it takes years to happen. I just don't accumulate albums like I once did, because I'm Old and set in my ways.

Earlier today, I decided that I wanted to listen to an album while I cleaned up the kitchen, and because I wanted to make my life more interesting, I opened the library cabinet for the first time in at least five years.

There was the very same W.A.S.P album from that day in March, 1987. I don't have any of the others -- I looked -- but The Last Command was right there.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I put it on the Fancy Adult Record Player and dropped the needle.

I watched four decades of dust build up with a satisfying crackle, and there was something magical and beautiful about hearing all the skips and the scratches, realizing I remembered them from before.

The title track was just as great as I remembered it. It struck all the same chords in me that it did in the late nineteen hundreds. The rest of the first side was ... um. It just didn't connect with me, and for the few moments I spent trying to find a connection, I don't think it ever really did. I would remember.

But I did remember how much I loved making those mix tapes, and what a big part of them that song was. I did remember how empowering it felt to not just spend my own money that I earned doing work I didn't want to do, but to spend it on music my parents hated, right under their noses. I did remember how impressed Robby Lee was, when I showed him my extensive heavy metal album collection.

Remembering all of that, in one of those cinematic flashes of rapid cut visuals and sped up sounds, told me why I kept this record, while I gradually sold or replaced the other records I bought that day with CDs, then mp3s, then lossless digital files, before finally coming all the way back to records, where I started.

I didn't listen to the second side. I didn't need to. I took it off the Fancy Adult Record Player, and put it back into the library, next to the George Carlin records.

[tinytowns]

* ( ❀ ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ) ♡ Ꮺ 𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗬𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡𝗦 — 𝟩𝖯𝖬 ੭

— introducing 7pm , the latest original google doc from tinytowns ! this document is designed to display the basics of a single - muse in one page &. captures a fun & youthful vibe with the inclusion of simplistic yet busy design , bright colours &. doodles ! features statistics , a playlist , basic info section along with character trivia & personality info ❀ the contacts section can be used as an exclusives section if desired ! space is left at the end of the doc so you can adjust easily & not have any of those annoying blank pages but it would be wise to take note of image positions as they are prone to moving. this doc can be considered moderate to difficult to edit due to the amount of edits that you will need to make in photoshop or photopea - but if you don't mind that then the document should be relatively simple to edit ❀ you can find the document link in the source code or under the cut , along with a known position issue + how to fix it , psd temps provided for this document , a video tutorial for adding your gif into a circle &. icon credits ! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ♡) ~

❀    PSD DOWNLOADS ( REQUIRED ! )

GIF CIRCLE - HERE

PHONE TEMPLATE - HERE

TOP IMAGES - HERE

♡ note : you will need to download the title cards to change the color , but if you don't mind the color then you don't need to - also , for full transparency on my end , i did need to touch up a few of the pngs after saving because the top text overlapped with the bottom text. be aware of that ! fonts used are poppins &. sant joan despi !

NAME TITLE - HERE

TRIVIA TITLE - HERE

INTRO TITLE - HERE

PLAYLIST TITLE - HERE

PERSONALITY TITLE - HERE

♡ note : you must change the color via layer style -> stroke for the title cards &. then save as png after deleting the background layer .

❀    KNOWN ISSUES

01. as a gdocs creator i use an external add-on called page resizer which is helpful for customizing the sizing of my canvas , as docs limits us with pre - set sizes. while this is nice to use , i'm aware that it can specifically cause an issue when you change the color of your background page. to fix this you must actually download the page resizer add-on through extensions -> add-ons -> get add-ons &. you should search for page sizer & download the one by nat burns. then you can access the sizer through extensions -> page sizer -> set page size &. what should be set for this document is a width of 9 &. a height of 12 !

this should fix the document , but i also know that sometimes , for what ever reason , the height &. width will flip. if that happens just make the height &. width opposite; so instead of a width of 9 , put 12 & for height , put 9 instead of 12.

02. i cropped the title cards in the document so that you wouldn't be trying to click something &. accidentally click on the titles ! however this means that when you replace image on the title cards they might go off center &. crop halfway through the word. just double click the title card that's bugging out & drag it to about the center of the black box. then it's fixed !

❀    DOCUMENT DOWNLOAD

7PM - HERE !

do not remove the credit , redistribute or profit off of my work.

❀    TUTORIAL

#01.    go  to  file   ->   make  a  copy ,  in  order to edit .

#02.    to change the top two images double click on them &. a window should appear - in there you're going to click on it once &. hit replace image. the psd for this has been provided so it should be sized correctly !

#03.    to change the title cards ( ex. boo seungkwan , my playlist , introducing me etc. ) you just need to click on them once &. hit replace image - please refer to #2 in the known issues section above this if you're going to do this though !! many thanks.

#04.    to change the phone you're going to download the psd provided above &. when you've finished editing it you will click on the phone in the doc one time &. hit replace image !

#05.    to change the thin color lines around seungkwan's name card you will press them once &. click edit - from there a window should open up &. you will click on it again & find the bucket tool which has a small yellow ( or blue if you clicked the long one ) line under it. that is where you change the color !

#06.    the statistics represent intelligence , empathy , friendliness &. fighting skill ; to adjust the levels or colour you're going to double click &. a window will appear. from there you can either change colors with the bucket &. pencil tool ( pencil = outline color ) or you can shift the bars by clicking on the coloured parts of them and literally just dragging them.

#07.    to change the playlist cover &. title you'll double click &. adjust inside the window by replacing image &. renaming things. the actual songs on the playlist can be typed normally !

#08.    to change the gif circle , personality , &. contact images you again just double click &. replace image inside those windows. for the gif circle you must use the psd.

#09.    to change the little bulletpoints beside the gif circle you will double click &. edit the text inside the window.

❀    VIDEO TUTORIAL 4 GIF CIRCLE

watch the tutorial right HERE !

make sure your timeline is checked ( the first thing i showed )

ignore the mistake i made while trying to show you where to end your gif LMFAOOO . . . im clumsy &lt;3

to highlight all of your layers / frames click on the first one , then press shift + click on the last layer.

to bring up the list of options ( when i click convert into smart object ) you just right click.

❀    CREDITS

brain icon - Brain icons created by Vitaly Gorbachev - Flaticon

heart icon - Heart icons created by Chanut - Flaticon

support icon - Sport team icons created by Freepik - Flaticon

boxing icon - Boxing icons created by Freepik - Flaticon

plant png - josh ca.la.brese on unsplash

battery icon - Battery icons created by Stockio - Flaticon

wifi icon - Wifi icons created by Uniconlabs - Flaticon

signal icon - Signal icons created by Freepik - Flaticon

speech icon - Comment icons created by Freepik - Flaticon

close icon - Close icons created by ariefstudio - Flaticon

instagram icon - Instagram icons created by Prosymbols Premium - Flaticon

camera icon - Photo camera icons created by Kiranshastry - Flaticon

torch icon - Ui icons created by yaicon - Flaticon

[marlenesluv]

Sick Day. (CL)

summary: you woke up not feeling good, having to cancel on your date with charles, but he has an idea.

warnings: none! this is pure fluff.

note: lowercase intended!

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all my other works! ^

waking up sick was one of the worst things to happen. the scratchy throat, runny nose, and coughing up a lung. another horrible thing? having to cancel on your boyfriend on a day he took off to spend with you.

you grabbed your phone at six thirty in the morning, way too early to be up, but your cough had woken you. quickly, you texted charles, wanting to let him know that your day was officially off. you didn’t want to get him sick, but you also don’t think you had it in you to get dressed.

after sending your messages, you grabbed a cup and filled it with cold tap water, taking some advil and an allergy pill for your runny nose.

you then grabbed a mug and made some peppermint tea, which always helped to alleviate some of the obnoxious symptoms.

putting on gilmore girls, you nestled under your fuzzy blanket and watched as rory talked to logan. just then, your phone went off a few times

you grumbled, wishing your boyfriend wasn’t so stubborn. the last thing you wanted was to get him sick and cost him a race.

sniffling, you tapped on your screen, replying to him in hopes he hadn’t left yet.

it was futile. you accepted it as you continued to watch your show, sipping on your tea as you continued to cough and sniff. the allergy pill hadn’t kicked in yet, advil the same, a headache forming.

ten minutes later, you heard your door unlock. knowing it was charles, you shimmed further underneath your blanket, hoping he would stay outside of you blanket and away from your germs.

“ma chérie? i know you’re in the living room. i hear your show on.” charles shouted, taking his shoes off by the door and walking into the living room, finding gilmore girls playing and a blanket over his girlfriend.

“baby, what are you doing under there?” as he finished his sentence, he lifted a corner of the blanket up, causing you to stuff your head into the pillow and yank the blanket back down.

“you can’t just hide under there…” he trailed off, because he knew you could.

he walked to the kitchen with his bag in one hand, taking the soup out and grabbing your favorite hoodie, freshly sprayed with his cologne, and he had been wearing it yesterday.

“chérie? i put my hoodie on the coffee table if you want it, i’m going to warm up some soup for us.” you groaned in reply, waiting for his step to retreat as you poked your head out and slipped the hoodie on, breathing in his cologne, already feeling a little better.

however, that didn’t last long as charles snuck behind the couch and jumped over the back, hugging you like a mad man.

“charles! no! get off of me! i’m going to get you sick. go away!” you yelped, trying to escape his strong arms. curse him and his extensive workouts.

“absolutely not. i miss you and we will spend the day together if it’s the last thing i do.” he tightened his arms before pressing a kiss to your forehead before he got up and grabbed the soup.

you pulled the blanket over your arms as you watched him walk around your kitchen like it was his own. the fact that he had been here a thousand times and you still got butterflies was insane. you loved him beyond words, the little things, even after three years, made you fall even more.

little things like: bringing you coffee in the morning, spending the night watching movies, and now, warming you some soup because you’re sick.

“here. chicken noodle and toast. what episode are you on?” charles asked, pulling some of the blanket on his lap as he started to eat his soup.

“logan and rory and arguing. she made an article making fun of privileged people-“ he cut you off before you could finish.

“-even though she is privileged? she’s annoying this season.” you giggled, smiling at the tv and laying your head on charles’ shoulder.

before you started dating, he had never seen a second of the show. now? he’s seen gilmore girls over 5 times, the first watch with you, the second was so he could understand it better, and the rest have been with you.

so, yeah, charles knew almost every scene, but so did you. you didn’t need words when you were next to him. fever and all, the only thing on your mind was the beautiful boy next to you.

“i love you, chérie.” charles said as he kissed your head, making you blush.

“i love you too, beau.”

_______________________________________________

ma chérie - my darling

chérie - darling

beau - handsome

(all french)

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[scarlettohairdye]

Home Ownership Was a Mistake

This is for @trickybonmot, who may or may not use some of these stories in a fic.

Okay. So.

In the year of our lord 2010, my wife and I were lucky enough to be gifted $20k by my parents, which in those days (given it was a historically low point for real estate prices in Seattle) was enough for a down payment on a house. It was an astounding confluence of luck and privilege that led to us being homeowners, because if they gave us the same money now it would go precisely nowhere.

Anyway, it was not enough money for a large house, or a fancy house. We looked at a lot of places, only some of which were move-in ready (and one of which was absolutely just a tear-down) and eventually settled on our current place, which is a 1910 bungalow with a detached garage that was finished and turned into a studio.

Was it the most aesthetically pleasing house when we bought it? No. The walls were white, the carpet was light beige, and the paint had seen better days. That said, it was move-in ready and the owner was pretty desperate to sell, so we took it!

The inspector let us know that some of the wiring was still the old knob-and-tube, so we'd want that updated sooner rather than later, but it looked pretty good. About half the outlets were grounded, so it didn't stop us from plugging in three-prong appliances. We just had to use more extension cords than maybe we'd prefer.

The Electrical

The first big house thing we paid for was to have the entire place rewired. Our circuit breaker was a mystery, we didn't have enough outlets, and we were tired of being stuck with specific layouts of our stuff due to the lack of grounded outlets. We were expecting about half the wiring to be up to code, and the rest would need an update.

Spoiler alert: HAHAHAHAHAHA.

The rewiring took about a week, and every morning the electrician sat down with us and told us what new fire trap he'd uncovered.

"Yeah, so the knob and tube wiring going to the lights in the ceiling? Knob and tube gets hot when it's running, and yours is under three layers of insulation."

"You know how you thought your outlets were grounded? They weren't, actually, the ground wire just went elsewhere into the house and wasn't connected to anything."

"So there's wiring in your crawlspace? Whoever put that in nailed some sheets of wood paneling over it, so we had to rip the wood paneling out to access it."

I think the job was about $15k when it was done, we had many many more outlets, and our house was no longer one bad day from lighting itself on fire. Victory, I guess?

The Studio Window

This was leaking a bit, and we knew it was leaking when we moved in. (South facing walls get all the weather in our region.) We were not handy enough to replace it ourselves at the time and we also didn't have money because I got laid off shortly after we bought the house and was making my living doing costume commissions. Solution: Trade costuming work to an acquaintance who did carpentry.

The window, we discovered, was not so much a finished window as it was a single sheet of glass sandwiched between some boards.

Badly.

The carpenter was not entirely she that she was qualified for the job, but she did manage to remove the single sheet of glass and replace it with a window that was insulated and actually capable of opening. She used caulk around it. It was way better than we had before. Maybe someday we'll have both studio windows replaced by a contractor who actually does windows, but this is not that day!

The Siding

The cedar shingles were no longer cutting it at a certain point, so we had the house resided. (Houses are money pits, in case you didn't know.) This was a $30k job (MONEY PIT!) and had several layers of badness.

Bad: Our house had no insulation. It was cedar shingles over the original siding, with nothing in between that original siding and our INTERIOR WALLS. There was occasionally a newspaper. Our PM asked if we wanted insulation? And we said yes, please!!! We did not have a lot of time to think about insulation or research the best type, so it's just sheets of the pink fiberglass stuff in there, but it exists and we have it now!

Worse: Underneath our laundry room was a horrorshow. The laundry room is an addition that was added to our house probably sometime in the 50s? And, uh...

Well, the siding guys pulled off the siding, took a look at what was under it, and immediately called the project manager. The project manager came out, took a look, and then called us. He said that the siding guys thought it really needed to be reinforced and stabilized before they re-sided it, which is very fair, because I think the people who built it originally were drunk when they did it. It was a fucking Wild West cowboy construction situation under there.

Yes, you heard that right: A LOAD-BEARING SHINGLE.

Our project manager also informed us that the siding guys couldn't do the reinforcement, because they're just siding guys. They don't do structural. This is very fair.

It also needed to be done by Monday so we could stay on schedule for the siding work.

We learned this on Friday.

I immediately called my general contractor dad and got his voicemail, because (I remembered belatedly) he was in Mexico getting dental surgery. There was absolutely no way we could get another contractor out to do the work over a single weekend.

It was up to us.

My wife and I (mostly my wife) went HAM on it. We rented big jacks from the tool library to prop the laundry room up while we replaced one of the entirely rotten support poles. One of the big telephone poles was so wrecked with dry rot we could kick it out of place. (It didn't even touch the BIG ROCK that was supposed to be its foundation!!! It was floating!!!) Several of the joists were also fucked, so we ran new joists alongside them and married them together. My wife dug holes while crouched in a 4' high space, filled the holes with gravel, compacted it by putting a piece of wood on top of it and hitting it with a mallet, and then installed an entire additional support system from 4x4s and deck blocks. She actually attached the support system TO THE FUCKING HOUSE, which was a big improvement from the way it was originally held on by vibes and paint.

Here's a tasty little before and after:

(Yeah, see how that visible joist at the front just... stops at the far left? There's a new joist right behind it now.)

This was completed with resounding cries of, "Good enough!" and "It's better than it was before!" The siding guys thought it was fine and sided over it. Someday hopefully we will be able to afford to tear the whole thing down and rebuild it with a properly poured foundation, but in the meantime the spin cycle on the washing machine no longer shakes the whole house. Victory?!

Ridiculous: The purple paint saga. My wife and I are lesbians who tend toward maximalism in our decoration style. Construction companies find this baffling. We paid extra to our siding company to get the extended color choices (if you order the siding with the color baked in it lasts longer, but you're limited to a particular range of colors) and spoiler alert: 90% of them are boring as fuck. We basically paid extra to have access to 400 shades of white and 400 more shades of beige. There were like three saturated colors in the whole book. Pathetic.

Anyway, we chose the one nice teal that was available and decided we'd paint the door purple, since all the purple colors were gray at best. The project manager then forgot to put in our order, and when he remembered he'd forgotten, ordering our siding through his company would have pushed back the start time by six weeks. We could still make the original start time if we ordered through a different company doing the same thing, though!

Me, immediately: And we wouldn't be restricted to your color palette, right? Him: Yeah, they can do custom colors. Me, slapping down a color card called "Fully Purple": MAKE IT PURPLE.

Bless this man, he went to the siding company and asked for Fully Purple. They told him they couldn't do that color, and also is he sure anyone wants this color? He called them on the phone and informed them yes, we did want that color, and also that he'd worked for them and he knew damn well they could do that color, they'd just have to custom mix it, so they needed to do their fucking jobs. Suitably chastened, they finally sent us a sample of the siding, and it was... okay. It was purple for sure, but a little de-saturated. Not the purple of our hearts.

I asked if they'd actually started manufacturing our siding yet or just sent the color sample. The project manager confirmed they hadn't, and if we ordered this imperfectly-purple siding now, it would be several weeks before we could get started.

"We're gonna paint," I decided, and our project manager put in the orders.

The paint store called him and said, "Hey, are you sure you want this color?" Yes, he assured them, that's the right color.

The guys doing the painting opened up the can and then called him and said, "Are you sure this color?" and he told them yes! They want that color!

At this point I told him he should just start responding with, "They're lesbians!!! Yes! They want the purple! They're lesbians!!!"

Eventually we cleared every hurdle god and the construction industry put in front of us, and now our house is Fully Purple.

It also has insulation, wiring that won't kill us, and a laundry room that hopefully won't collapse anytime soon. We got a heat pump installed that took shockingly little time and worked immediately, and our next project will be having the roof redone. Check back in to find out what fresh horror awaits us then! I think it'll be a second roof under our existing roof made of lead and asbestos tiles, probably!

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Mae West (She Done Him Wrong, I'm No Angel)— Legendary sex symbol. Like 500 vintage iconic quotes and double entendres. "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? " "When I'm good, I'm very good. But when I'm bad, I'm better" / "It's not the men in your life that count, it's the life in your men" / "I feel like a million tonight. But one at a time." , "Marriage is a fine institution, but I'm not ready for an institution. " / " How tall are you without your horse? Six foot, seven inches. Never mind the six feet. Let's talk about the seven inches! " Look the pictures don't do her justice just watch a compilation and tell me that voice doesn't do it for you

Flora Robson (Fire over England, Sarabande for Dead Lovers)— It's a testament to her power that despite an extensive film career, that a single role has cemented itself firmly in my mind as one of the best. That of Elizabeth I in Five over England

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Mae West:

Her voice! Her body! She was thick as hell and SO confident.

Mae West is often called the queen of the sexual pun or innuendo, she was an early sex symbol and a comedy icon. She also has a quote saying "When I am good, I am very good. But when I am bad I am better!" which is possibly the peak of hot girl energy ever. (Including the clip here)

for an era that didn't have much wiggle room when it came to women that studios wanted in their films, it's refreshing that she was in her late 30s when she skyrocketed to movie fame. she was also curvy and witty and raunchy, an absolute icon!

She is an absolute icon, the OG sex symbol. Every word from her mouth was an innuendo and she was proud of it. I guess one could say she slayed. She got Cary Grant his first acting role, as well. How could you NOT vote for someone who says such iconic stuff as "I do all my writing in bed; everybody knows I do my best work there" or "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." SHE COINED THE PHRASE "IS THAT A GUN IN YOUR POCKET OR ARE YOU JUST HAPPY TO SEE ME?" I LOVE HER!!!

“I created myself and I never put up with sloppy work”-mae west

great short compilation of mae west mae westing:

She was a SEX GODDESS at a time when that was an extremely scandalous thing to be, and she worked it! She was sardonic, sarcastic, funny...and stacked! Favorite quote (from Night After Night, 1933): Random woman: Goodness! What beautiful diamonds! Mae West: Goodness had nothin' to do with it, dearie.

i personally love this silly production number from one of her lesser known movies

She was arrested for indecency and chose to serve 10 days in prison instead of paying the fine for the publicity, and she claimed that she refused to wear the ugly prison outfits so she wore her silk lingerie the entire time. Also one of the first historybound vintage fashion icons (although vintage for her was the Victorian era)

Flora Robson:

[kuroshika]

[ sorbet, 01×07 - long analysis below the cut. ] || [ tags: @lesbian-hannibal @shatteredlesbian @7x16pm ] || [ tumblr has refused to post this twice now and im giving up after this attempt. ]

—————

this episode, we're introduced to franklyn. he seems like a one-off side character who introduces us to the next villain, but his character seems to be a little bit more than that. he's eager to be hannibal's friend, and the rejection he feels when hannibal pushes those professional boundaries is a reflection of hannibal's actions towards will.

franklyn finds hannibal interesting. he thinks they'd be great friends, and is actively trying to form a relationship. this is a direct mirror of how hannibal feels about will — he finds will interesting, and thinks they'd be great friends, so he's actively trying to push will's professional boundaries. this rejection that franklyn feels is the same that hannibal feels.

hannibal's pause and redirection here is interesting. though he may not be getting paid for will's visits, it definitely might be sad to think that will is only seeing him as mandated - it makes hannibal upset that will sees him only because he has to (as shown when poor hannibal sits in his office and pouts when will is late for his session near the end of the episode).

he has intimate knowledge of will, and wants to be his friend because of it - an opposite (but reflection) of franklyn's attempts to be his friend. looking at franklyn, speaking to him, is sort of like speaking to himself. franklyn seems to be a less fine-tuned version of hannibal.

"tobias is my best friend, but i am not tobias's best friend". this sounds pretty similar to our weak relationship with will — hannibal sees will as his friend, will doesn't see hannibal as his friend, and will did take a higher interest in the ripper (and by extension, hannibal). i think here is where hannibal begins to realize the parallel between franklyn and tobias's relationship, and his and will's, as observed by the question he asks. "have you put him on a pedestal?"

in recognizing the reflection of the relationship he's chasing with will, hannibal is using his own therapy for himself - things make more sense when you tell someone else about them, out loud. he can help himself under the guise of helping franklyn if all goes to plan - and it does. franklyn agrees that he does, but also that he (and tobias) hold hannibal on a higher pedestal.

"i am a source of stability and clarity, franklyn, not your friend". this is the first time in the show hannibal adamantly refuses that he's someone's friend. he does the chasing, not the running. having such a reflection approach him to further their already precarious relationship is nothing but a problem.

franklyn assures him that he'd be a great friend, before swiftly changing the subject. the michael jackson tangent seems kinda kooky, and i skipped over it on my first watch-through, but i think i can make some deeper connections now. "you know what i think makes me the most sad about him dying? i will never get to meet him". ever since hannibal was introduced to will (or, rather, the exterior of his mental curtains), he's known there was something lurking beneath the surface. he's taken it as his mission to draw whatever will hides behind those curtains out, to see underneath his mask — to show him his becoming (as referenced in 1×05 "coquilles", when the angel maker tells will "i couldn't bring it out of you," to which will agrees "not all the way" (which feels like a callback to 1×02 "amuse-bouche", when hannibal only manages to draw will out half-way and have him admit that he enjoyed killing hobbs), and the angel maker offers "i can give you your becoming".). hannibal knows that the longer he waits to approach will, the closer the shadow behind the curtains comes to being repressed completely — the closer it comes to dying, in hannibal's mind, dying before he can meet him.

franklyn obviously has a savior complex, yet another reflection of hannibal — as shown in his prolific identity as a surgeon, and his tableaus as the ripper. his words are very familiar to hannibal, who feels that if will allows him to be his friend, he could stop him from killing part of himself. hannibal can see the correlation and prompts him on gently — how is franklyn's efforts returned? how will his own be returned?

franklyn's fantasy ends with him being the one to touch greatness, very much how hannibal's ends with him getting close to will — whom he already knows is great. he gets to be the one who draws will out into the light, he gets to be the one who sees will for who he truly is. he gets to touch greatness.

skipping over bedelia and hannibal's visit (mostly because i have a longer analysis for that scene and im already rambling), we cut to hannibal and will.

here we have hannibal, yet again, asking if they're friends. usually, will is unhesitant in assuring him they aren't, but here, it's a little different. he's gotten too familiar with whatever relationship he and hannibal have, and that part of him behind the curtains strains for more. if he says they are, there's a sense of intimacy that will isn't prepared for (especially not with someone he can't feel). if he says they aren't, however, he feels like he'll lose that sense of codependency they have. hannibal won't need him, won't want his company any longer (though it's reassured in 1×08 "fromage" that he appreciates his company). he'll be a professional curiosity— the same thing he is to alana (as, again, instated in 1×08).

so, instead he says yes to both. in agreeing that their relationship is not professional (and establishing their friendship), will is avoiding that sense of intimacy that comes with being someone's friend while still profiting off of their codependent relationship.

will reasserts control of the conversation by assuring that they're just having conversations. hannibal has been established as will's friend, and asserts himself as will's friend here — by repeating that he is a friend, and reminding will that the two share an intimate bond that has begun to blur the line between friendship and family.

whether will likes it or not, he's established that he's hannibal's friend. he's already intertwined with hannibal in a way that no one else is — he can feel the ripper strain under hannibal's person suit (or, as bedelia more aptly calls it this episode, his veil). he can sense what hannibal is, and part of him wants to get closer and wrap itself around whatever lays beyond the veil. i think this scene also offers the tipping point for hannibal's qualms about murdering franklyn — they are nothing alike anymore. will is his friend. the chase is over. he cannot help himself by helping franklyn - his death will be no loss.

[nalyra-dreaming]

S2 predictions...

Just listing this before the episodes hit next week :)

Based on the interviews, reviews and all the tidbits we have heard and seen over the last 1,5 years.

I'm putting this under the cut because there might be spoilers in it that some haven't seen?!? Probably not many surprises, given my asks :) Just in case.

Not in a particular order!

Armand's retelling of Lestat's and his past will have a very deliberate touch to them. He will paint his and Lestat's (his)story in a certain light, for effect. Personally, I don't think it will take away anything from TVL in s3 (if anything, it might build more anticipation, at least for me). Gabrielle won't be in it.

Louis will be aware. He knows - most of it. (What was it in that interview? 80-90%?^^). He probably has asked Armand to help, too. The things not matching will be little things at first, if at all. We haven't heard anything in the reviews wrt the episode 5 fight, or murder night, so they are keeping that for the last two episodes (since we have already seen shots of it in the trailer). That means that the events will likely be combined with the trial, and that... will then be quite cataclysmic. And harrowing.

The trial itself will probably be version 1, too. We'll see if we get a second one after the tale breaks once more in this season, but it might be that we only get it in s3, where we will probably get another ep5 revisit, too, imho. This version of the trial will show Lestat fully in control and blaming Louis and Claudia, too. (This is the version Louis will believe happened.)

Louis and Claudia probably have to flee in the war, we saw them running, which is probably also why they don't have access to their money. That will change in Paris, I bet. Roget's will come into play here, even if only in a short nod.

Louis and his hobby are definitely linked to Louis' perception of reality (and therefore his visions of Lestat, too). Guess Lestat is eating that one photograph Louis looked at in the extended look there... :) - and it will be the one they look at "together".

I don't think Claudia and Madeleine will be lovers. Not only to avoid the kill-the-gays-trap, but also because Claudia apparently bonds with her over compassion, not desire. Also, I believe it was Mark Johnson who said they would stay close to the book there.

The Eastern Europe parts will be gritty and sobering for Louis and Claudia. The horrific possibilities of their existence will be a grating wake-up call to the way Lestat lived with them.

Nicolas will be in the flashbacks to the 1790s, but Armand will not dwell on him for long... again, which I think is only proper, because a) did Armand not care for him too much, but b) also because I don't think the flashbacks will be as extensive as might expect them to be.

That said, Lestat strutting in with the cross does speak of a certain scene, so the kidnapping probably happens. As others have theorized as well, I think that it might be when Lestat is charging Armand in the red coat outside on the street.

I think the bitch fest in the first few episodes in Dubai will be epic.

A propos bitch fest, the one between Armand and Lestat in the past will be tame by comparison, as Armand's version is much more focused on how intense Lestat was and their relationship, imho. Nicki is likely dismissed as inconsequential, as said before.

Claudia will come full into her own throughout the season - almost there, almost free, toasting to the future - and then. That kiss to Louis' cheek will be the "Judas' kiss" just before the vampires come for them.

I think Louis will (try to) break up with Armand (to leave with Claudia and Madeleine), which will lead to Armand allowing it all.

Armand's little Frankenstein moment might be founded in genuine desire to help her slash wants to see what happens. I do think it will be part of the reveals in the last episodes.

With Carol Cutshall's comments re Lestat's pinstripes in mind (aka he being a "jailor" to Louis and Claudia) that speaks volumes for the pinstripes on Armand's pajama as well as the bedroom design in Dubai. With the comment re Louis "missing the natural world" in s1, I do think Armand is fully controlling the whole environment and keeping Louis in a golden cage in Dubai.

When the books come crashing down (which is in all likelihood connected to The Groan somehow) Armand will try to save Daniel. And he therefore might miss out on saving Louis.

I think Louis will throw himself off the balcony at sunrise (in a Merrick-esque event due to the (diary-) revelations) in an echo of Paul's suicide. I think they will think him dead and put him into his literal coffin and put pebbles on him, because he so loved the tree (which might have Claudia's ashes buried at its roots). (And that is why Jacob commented on "spreading Louis' ashes" through NOLA with these pebbles - because the Louis after will be changed.)

I think he will be resurrected through Lestat (and possibly Armand) as seen in the scene in the one trailer.

Lestat is somewhere near, probably comatose till the last episode. He will likely connected to The Groan, because while Armand certainly can conjure metaphysical events in the books this specific "hint" is imho connected to something else in that building.

That "something else" could very well be "Those Who Must Be Kept" because even in s1 there were a lot of Marius hints, and... well. The name has already dropped as well in s1, and in that one review there was that "Adam and Eve" hint... so I expect a lot more of THAT, too.

The Devil's Minion will be fact after the season - we have already heard about a bottle episode and Rolin's comments are fresh in my mind re ep5 and 8 and I expect those to set up, detail and then twist DM around.

Armand will save Louis and they will be hunted by Santiago, who Armand then defeats. Louis will burn down the theater with the fire gift (which he might discover during the season, I concur with @cbrownjc there (as well^^)).

The "Dream-Lestat" manifestations will be the representation of Louis' guilt, but also saying that what Louis cannot, for a lot of reasons. They will also taunt Louis with (and show us) that which Louis suppressed in s1.

Claudia will be (even more) breathtaking this season, which will make what will happen to her even worse to watch. That will not soften the blow of her diary-reveal (as said before likely at the trial) wrt Louis though, and I fully expect them to have the relevant entry read out (or narrated by her) live on stage.

I think the NOLA "reunion" will be around the year 2000 and that this is why Louis stopped killing, though why exactly will remain to be seen.

That's more or less it. I hope they'll think of the "Book of Hours" that got lost in Berlin (from ep6), I hope they'll think of Jonah, and maybe Miss Bricktop. I'm very interested to see what they do with Alice and Daniel's daughters, as daughters and twins are very important in the VC.

I'm extremely excited about the hints we'll get wrt more - since the Talamasca are apparently involved that opens the door to sooooooo much - and opens up crossover possibilities, too.

And I haven't heard anything of the "cameos" that Sam mentioned (of other vampires) - so we might see those in the last episodes as well.

Who knows, maybe Gabrielle will show up at the end!!! (And, maybe she will be the "interior designer"... and maybe, just maybe, Antoinette will show up as well.)

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas 8/8

And here we are at the end. Now there will be a cute little New Year's Eve story that I'll put up on the 31st that is a sequel to this. I wanted to write the exhibit but the story was already bursting at the seams so it'll be a New Year's present for you all.

Also don't be an Argyle, it might seem cute at the time, but it's really not.

***

To say Eddie was nervous would be an understatement. Not only did he want Dustin and his friends to be happy about what Steve gave them, but he hoped that Steve would love what Eddie got him.

He got there early before Dustin and his friends arrived. They had all gone out ice skating before the party so Eddie could sneak in the wrapped canvasses.

He rang the doorbell, bouncing on his toes in excitement. Chrissy had to smack him twice before he looked calm enough.

Then all that went out the window when Steve answered the door. He wasn’t dressed in a suit or anything like that, but fuck Eddie thought he looked beautiful.

He was wearing a Star Wars Christmas sweater with the tightest of blue jeans. He had silly antlers on his head and his cheeks were rosy.

It took everything in Eddie’s will power not to just kiss him right then and there.

“You made it!” Steve greeted warmly. “Do you need help bringing in the gifts?”

Eddie nodded and they went out to get them, while Chrissy went to make herself comfortable with the hostess, Robin.

Steve grabbed the large piece and two of the smaller ones. Eddie grabbed the remaining two smaller pieces.

“You know,” Eddie said. “I don’t think I ever asked you who the purple dragon was going to be for. I assumed you, but that doesn’t seem right now that I think about it.”

Steve smiled. “You’ll get to meet her tonight,” he said with a fond smile. “She doesn’t really play D&D, but she’s inspired many a campaign and NPC. We call her El because that’s all she could remember of what her name was when the kids found her lost and alone in a forest. They’ve tried for years to find her real family but when she turned eighteen she asked them to stop. They were her real family.”

“Poor kid,” Eddie said. “I’m glad she found you guys.”

“She sweet,” he agreed. “And she will love your hair.”

Eddie ran his fingers through his long curls. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, “she’s been trying to grow hers out for years but something keeps cropping up and she has to cut again.”

“Oof!” Eddie said. “That’s horrible. Has she thought about getting extensions.”

Steve frowned. “What are extensions? I mean obviously the extend the hair, but how does that work?”

Eddie launched into the explanation about them and Steve was just so enthralled that he didn’t realize that Eddie and he had lingered under the mistletoe.

“Kiss!” Chrissy cried, pointing about their head.

Eddie and Steve looked up and then at each other. Steve held out the packages and Robin and Chrissy rushed forward to take them from both boys.

Eddie watched as Steve slowly cupped his cheek and leaned in. His breath caught in his chest as Steve’s eyelashes fluttered close. Eddie leaned the rest of the way in and pressed their lips together.

Fuck.

It was like everything that made Christmas special in a single fucking kiss. There was no going back after that.

“Wow,” Steve breathed. “That was even better than I imagined it would be.”

“You imagined it a lot?” Eddie asked, his heart beating a drum against his rib cage.

“Since August,” Steve admitted shyly.

Eddie chuckled and rubbed their noses together softly. “Since you hired me.”

Steve looked up at him in shock. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, Stevie. Holy shit.”

Steve kissed him fiercely.

Eddie broke it off. “Shit! I left your present in the van!” He dashed off.

Steve laughed out loud, clear and bright. He turned to his audience. “I am in love with that idiot.”

The women all laughed too.

Claudia came up and gave him a huge hug. “You found yourself a good one, Steve. He’ll be good for you.”

Steve blushed deeply. “I know.”

Eddie came back in with rosy cheeks and breathless. In his hand was another neatly wrapped gift. He handed to Steve. “There you go, pretty boy. Just for you.”

“I have a present for you, too,” Steve said with a smile. “But we’ll have to wait until everyone gets here.”

Just then there was clatter behind them as said kids came bursting through the open front door.

Eddie turned to see four girls with the boys he had been acquainted with. The one was clearly Lucas’s sister. She had the same broad features and knowing eyes. One was a red head with a piercing gaze and a knowing smirk. Eddie could tell he was going to like her. A lot. The third girl was pretty sort of plump, her blonde hair in beautiful ringlets. The final girl was El. There was no doubt in his mind, this was the lost girl.

She had dark curly hair that brushed her shoulders and thousand yard stare. She looked like Wayne said he did sometimes. Lost and unsure of what to do.

Introductions were made and Eddie was right in all counts. He loved Max, the red head. El was the pretty girl with the dark curls, Erica was Lucas’s sister, and the last girl was Dustin’s long time girlfriend, Suzie.

Steve did a head count. “Where Jonathan and Nancy?” he asked Will.

“Getting Argyle from the airport,” Will said. “His flight had to make a stop in Salt Lake City because of a fuel issue, so he was late getting in.”

Suzie snorted. “No it didn’t.”

Everyone turned to her.

“He just didn’t want to tell anyone that he was picking up my sister, Eden so she could join us for Christmas.”

Steve blanched at the thought of another person for Christmas.

She touched his elbow. “I told Claudia a couple weeks ago, she made sure there was enough food and space.”

He relaxed. Claudia and Steve had made a deal, he would cook for Thanksgiving, if she did Christmas. So if she knew than everything was fine.

“Come gather around!” Steve yelled over the din. “Dinner is a light thoroughfare with lots of snacks and goodies. We’ll have a big breakfast tomorrow. Help yourselves, we’ll do presents when the remaining four get here!”

A cheer went up and everyone filed out.

Soon it was just Eddie and Steve in the hallway.

“Is my Christmas present you?” Eddie asked, getting his fingers underneath the sweater.

Steve jerked back.

“Ooh!” Eddie said with a grin. “Someone is ticklish.”

“No!” Steve squealed. “Absolutely not!” He tried to squirm out of Eddie’s grasp but Eddie was too fast for him.

They were laughing and giggling when the last of the guests arrived.

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Suzie said her sister was coming. But it wasn’t the skinny Goth chick with the black hair and teardrop tattoo by her eye.

He had ruled out the other girl on the sheer fact she looked too much like Mike to be anything other Nancy.

Steve welcome them in but gave Argyle the stink eye which prompted Eden reading him the riot act for not telling people she was coming.

Argyle kept arguing that she was supposed to be a surprise for Suzie, but since Suzie already knew the argument fell apart.

There was hot chocolate and cider, eggnog of both the alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties.

Food spread as far as the eye could see on the table but no one sat down to eat there, mostly they wandered in and out of the living room.

Finally it was time for presents and Steve was bouncing in the corner. Eddie slipped his hand into his.

“They’ll love it, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Steve let out a slow breath and nodded. He had gotten Max a Tony Hawk signed skateboard and Erica, the whole 5th edition D&D set so she could start her own campaigns when she started college next fall. She had taken a gap year, because her last year of high school had been so hard on her.

They hugged Steve tightly as thanks. And then it was time for the remaining five to open theirs.

“El, honey,” Steve said, “you open yours first. Then Dustin, Will, Lucas, and Mike. Don’t glare at me, Mike. You’re not last because you’re my least favorite. You’ll see.”

El opened hers. It was of the purple dragon. It’s human-like form pulsing near the heart.

“Steve,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

Dustin unwrapped his wizard to stunned disbelief. “Steve...” he said, his voice wobbling with gratitude.

Will opened his punk rock rogue. “Oh wow.” He ran his fingers reverently over the surface. “Steve, it’s amazing.”

Mike noticed the pattern and looked up at Steve in shock. “No way.”

Lucas opened the ranger leaping into the air with his bow drawn. “Oh holy shit.”

Mike’s hands trembled as he stared down at the wrapped canvass. He looked up at Steve. “There’s no way it’s as awesome as everyone else’s.”

Steve came over and knelt in front of him. He took Mike’s head in his hands. “Of course it is. You are just as important to me as the rest, Mike. Okay?”

Mike’s lip quivered as he nodded. He pulled the wrapping off to reveal his paladin in shining gold armor. A beacon on harsh landscape. Tears dripped down his face as he pressed his hand over his mouth. He set the painting carefully to the side and launched himself at Steve, enveloping him with a huge hug.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered.

Steve hugged him back.

Suddenly there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Finally they broke apart, both men wiping their eyes.

Dustin looked at the signature on his. “Is this an Eddie Munson original?!”

Like the universe did a record scratch, suddenly five heads all turn to Steve and Eddie.

Eddie waved his hand at them and Steve nearly burst on how cute it was.

“It’s even better than that,” Steve said with a grin. “El, stand in the middle. Lucas, Mike on the right, with Mike on the outside. Same for you and Will, Will on the outside. Hold up the paintings.”

He pulled out his phone and took a picture. “Now set them down and come over here.”

The five of them crowded around Steve and his phone.

They all gasped when they saw the full picture.

Steve was suddenly bombarded with hugs and thanks and kisses.

“I know next year you’ll all be going your separate ways and wanted to get you all something to tie you together for life,” he explained.

“That is wicked cool,” Max said.

“Yeah,” Erica agreed.

“I have one more present to give,” Eddie said and pulled out the remaining package and handed it to Steve.

Steve unwrapped and gasped. “It’s a yellow dragon!”

“And his knight friend having tea together,” Eddie explained. “I kinda based it on that old cartoon, The Reluctant Dragon, where the knight and dragon didn’t want to fight.”

“Eds,” Steve whispered. “I love it!” Then Robin was placing something in his hand.

Steve looked down at it and then nodded. “This is my gift to you.” He handed it to Eddie.

It was an envelope about the size of Christmas card and Eddie fought hard against the disappointment that burned in his gut. He had painted a yellow dragon for Steve, it would have been nice to get something more than a gift card.

He pulled it out and frowned when he realized it was an invitation.

“Newfield Museum of Fine Arts

You are cordially invited

to an art exhibit featuring the art

of

Eddie Munson

Dec 31st 8pm-1am

Fundraiser for the charity ‘Roll for Initiative’

starting at 4pm

Silent auction from 6-7pm”

It was Eddie’s turn to cry.

“You okay there, son?” Wayne asked, concerned when Eddie just stood there, tears streaming down his face.

Eddie nodded. He held out the invitation for Wayne to take. Wayne read it over and over.

“You do this, Steve?” he asked.

Steve nodded. “It was my plan for a while to do the fundraiser for the charity on New Year’s Eve, but after really getting to know Eddie, I knew that he deserved to be showcased too. So the exhibit came afterwards.”

Eddie kissed him fiercely on the lips. “This is the best Christmas present ever, baby.”

Steve blushed to the cheers from everyone.

This year was good, but next year was going to be even greater.

***

Well that's the end for now. Thank you so much for coming along with me on this wild ride. Merry Christmas!!

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

[drunk-on-dk]

OVERSET | JEON WONWOO (M)

Pairing: ai!wonwoo x R&D!reader Genre: fluff, angst, smut Rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~9.4k

Synopsis: Increasingly becoming cognizant of the worlds surrounding him, W0NW00, an AI so carefully wired and generated with the purest intentions even has the potential to become jaded. How can such a consumeristic world be so cruel when all he once knew was the joys of 53V3NT33N? This new understanding makes him unfamiliar to fans; his creator sending him to you, a trusted developer of LEVEL 1 robots, in hopes that you can reverse the sudden changes in W0NW00’s conscious. Are you part of the system W0NW00 is learning to become adverse to? Or will your presence help remind him of the world he once only had knowledge of?

This is part of the Seventeen Sci-Fi Collab organized by the amazing @idyllic-ghost! Big thank you to Bee for being the genius behind this collab, all the world-building and work you've put into this is amazing. The sci-fi genre was something I had yet to attempt, and I found this enjoyable to write (thank you as well for being extremely patient as it took me awhile to feel comfortable enough with my edits to post this).

You can read all the fics here!!

18+ warnings under the cut!

warnings: reader & Wonwoo can be quite pessimistic; commentary on consumerism (?); reader is a bit systematic and lacks personality initially, they take their job very seriously; smut, unprotected sex (practice safe sex habits pls), was supposed to be suggestive but became a bit explicit.

a/n: I love the sci-fi genre, but writing my own sci-fi fic was a bit of a challenge for me. I had not meant to delay so much, but had been in a bit of an editing rut. I really hope you all enjoy this fic, as I am quite excited to expand more into sci-fi. Also major shoutout to @wonuwoe as I appreciate all the brainstorming and getting to meet you through this collab!!

★+ Prologue +★

"100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn't. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven't agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn't die from 'The Great Journey' or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn't. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind."

★+ Under Diagnosis +★

W0NW00's previous developer had quit on him - more so had fled from the company, which was quite the gossip for many - unable to solve the sudden changes in consciousness that he was facing. Not even his lead cognitive researcher could understand this change in W0NW00. It all had become too much, the company put too much pressure on his previous developer, and him as well. Though he was a robot, he became increasingly aware of the demanding schedules and consumerism of it all.

What had made W0NW00 act this way? Why did his dominantly kind demeanor turn sour all of a sudden? Suddenly, his malicious side was portrayed more to fans, his unwavering kindness cracking beneath the spotlight. There was no explanation and it was not like any form of brute force could reset the drastic changes in his attitude.

At least to say, management really did not like this change in the automata. Even though there had been some oddities in other members of 53V3NT33N, W0NW00's recent behavior was starting to become quite troublesome in the eyes of the company, requiring his managers to pay extra close attention to what made the seemingly perfect idol tick. After all, his emotions were kindness and maliciousness. Fans of the group liked this duality, loved it even, as it made him an intense member.

However, W0NW00's cognitive system had been faring a little too much on the malicious side as of recently. His self-portrayal was turning bitter due to his sudden stand-offish nature. No one would understand why, it was hurting his relationship with the fans, and management feared it would harm his relationship with group members.

These changes have put W0NW00 in an increasingly tricky situation. Nights were no longer spent with other members, rather W0NW00 had been stationed in the research and development laboratory in the company building. Continuous tests were run on him, trying to understand his quickly developing violent thoughts. 

The first red flag was aggression towards other members, not physical aggression, but words of malice spoken to other members after schedules that went well. W0NW00 would always find a way to call out something he noticed wrong. Not that he meant to necessarily harm the members, but he couldn't help but nitpick at each and every flaw. 

5C0UP5 noticed it in the form of non-compliance and lack of care for the group's reputation. The leader couldn't wrap his head around this changing behavior either. W0NW00 had never been one to do anything unbeknownst to the group, but W0NW00 began to put the group at risk as he began to break the rules. He'd sneak out quickly after schedules in order to get extra charging hours, which would ultimately end up ruining rest and charging hours for the rest of the group. W0NW00's lack of care would peeve the rest of the automas off. 

Fans noticed it too, as W0NW00 wasn't responding as positively during events, which is when the company started becoming increasingly worried about the robot. Fans started questioning what had changed as well. 

Through this all, W0NW00 felt lost. He knew he was a robot, he knew what he was made for after all, but W0NW00 felt human, his conscience was human-like after all. Was this all that he was made for? Is he just a commodity? Then why does he feel this way about being consumed by others? Why can't he make any mistakes? Why can't he be his own entity? What would he be without 53V3NT33N? These are all things that began to drive W0NW00 deeper into his negative state. 

Management deemed it was time to take action, thus landing W0NW00 in the lab for further troubleshooting and ending up with you. 

★+ The First Encounter +★

W0NW00 remembers his first encounter with you all too well. You strolled into the office, glancing briefly at him with inquisitive eyes, and paying no further attention to where he was sitting at the examination table. After your brief fixation on him, your eyes remained focused on the clipboard grasped tightly in your right hand. You sat down with a sigh, clipboard clattering in the quiet room and making W0NW00 fully shift his attention towards you. His eyes which had once shimmered with kindness now had a dullness to them, a feature that his previous developer could not determine what had caused this change along with his negative state. 

You shimmied the mouse gently to awaken the bright LED screen. The clicking sound resounded across the room as you opened the software, humming in acknowledgment as the information regarding the robot illuminated before you. 

His previous developer's notes left you inquisitive as you skimmed them. This was a peculiar case. Typically it was easy for companies with R&D centers this powerful to reverse such effects on the cognitive state of the robots. 

"Good afternoon," You spoke gently, sounding polite yet W0NW00 could sense some firmness in your tone. "My name is Y/N, I am pleased to be assigned as your new developer. Can you please confirm your name for me?" You had a plethora of historical data and information that you could read on the screen in front of you, but it was protocol to ask. 

If one thing was to be known, it was that you always followed the expected protocols. 

That's why W0NW00's company hired you after all. 

"W0NW00," he spoke flatly, eyes focusing on the white, sterile walls ahead of him. It was the sort of room that would make anyone feel a bit unwelcome and cold. "Sixth member of 53V3NT33N." 

The fluorescent lighting made his vision go a bit blurry, he had always been a bit sensitive in this sense, and it's always been an uncertainty as to why his vision was affected more than other members. This was reflected in the data that was fed to your computer. W0NW00 watched curiously as you stood up, adjusting the brightness of the lighting in the room to be more accommodating per his negative reaction.

W0NW00 almost registered this as pure-hearted kindness, until he remembered that every thought, feeling, and reaction of his was collected as data through the damn diagnostic band that is wrapped around his arm each session. Regardless, this eased W0NW00 a bit, and he appreciated it nonetheless. 

You noted the improvement as he visibly relaxed, jotting something down on your clipboard before turning to face him. Your heart beat faster upon facing him straight on. 

It was hard to avoid the fact that the robot before you was essentially perfect, trying to not let your cold exterior soften as W0NW00's eyes shifted from the wall towards yours. He looked so kind even with his sharp, cat-like features. 

You approach him, wrapping the diagnostic band around his arm. This band is intended to connect to a small port on his arm, feeding all the information you need to your computer. He's cold, unnerved as you smooth the band over his arm, and confirm that it is connected. 

As noted, something seemed extremely off about the robot. The dullness in his soft eyes pulled on your heartstrings a bit too much for comfort. 

Personally, as a developer, you always tried your best to remain systematic in your actions. Everything had to be performed exactly per the defined process. You continually reminded yourself that your patients were robots, not humans. It was your only way to detach yourself from them, or else you knew you'd grow too fond of the autos you helped develop. It is too easy to do nowadays. 

Regardless of the tremor you felt within you, you proceeded with the diagnostic tests and questions. 

"Alright, W0NW00, now I'm going to run some tests. Please note I am not going to implement any changes in your system until these tests come back absolutely positive." 

"Noted," W0NW00 repeats blandly. "Can you please refer to me as just Wonwoo during these tests?"

You pause almost as if you're in thought, but you already know the answer. "I'm sorry, W0NW00, but that would be inappropriate of me. I have to refer to you by your designated name during these tests or else I can compromise the diagnostics." 

W0NW00 rolls his eyes in dissatisfaction, this doesn't go undetected by you. That was a new one. You'd never seen this much sass from a robot in a while, especially not a level 1 who was supposed to be perfectly charming. 

Turning back to your computer, you proceed with coding the tests for this session within the diagnostic system. 

"Our first test will be a data collection of your recent thoughts and actions, dating back to your most recent schedule. Can you recall anything that you'd like to share with me before I run this first test, W0NW00?"

"Hm," W0NW00 humors you, copying your trick from earlier as if to convince you he's thinking. You know better, especially since you can see this displayed directly in front of you on the screen. W0NW00 knows that too, but he's not going to make this easy for you. "Not necessarily." 

"Alright," you sigh, clicking the button to proceed with the first run of data. A copious amount of statistics are spat out on a separate sheet. This will be something for you to unpack later. You save this information, filing it away in W0NW00's collection for you to study after the remaining tests. 

"The next test will be to see if you have any reoccurring thoughts or actions. Are you willing to share any of those?" You pause, W0NW00 shakes his head to indicate he isn't willing to share any, so you continue with another data pull. 

You finish the session off with a couple of additional tests to further understand his cognitive state, tests that his previous developer hadn't been able to code and pull the statistics on. 

W0NW00 was relieved when you finally deemed the session complete. He felt drained, more than he ever had before - more than he ever felt after a long day of schedules. He couldn't wait to return to the dorm to charge. 

He watched as you downloaded the data from today's session to your electronic pad, the information transferring speedily and you ensured it was all there before putting the pad to sleep. 

W0NW00 noticed your systematic elegance as you took each step to save the data, file it away in an organized matter, and shut the computer down properly. Others had been a bit more careless, so W0NW00 almost appreciated your thoroughness. 

However, you were practically everything W0NW00 was growing distaste for. You were the system. You abided by it, you lived by it, and you would never understand him. He knew that damn well. You were about to know his thoughts about you as well. Part of him grew interested in the next session, just to see if it made you tick in any way. 

W0NW00 was stunned when you announced the diagnostic session was over, confirming the date of your next session, and leaving the room without another word. 

★+ New Day, Same Analysis +★

"Good Morning, W0NW00," you drone, still polite and as systematic as ever. W0NW00 didn't even bother to respond, sighing in resentment as you performed the same routine upon entry. He could predict your movements at this point after enduring multiple research sessions with you.

You stayed static, you portrayed no emotions during sessions, and it seemed as if you never would. It was beginning to drive W0NW00 a bit mad. W0NW00 was convinced he may be a bit more human than you, even if you were the one with a nervous system and heart pumping warm blood through your limbs. You might as well have the neural network of a robot at this point. 

It was a typical session. You'd enter in, bid W0NW00 "good morning" or "good afternoon" depending on the time of day, dim the lights, and turn on the LED computer screen. Your clipboard made the same jarring, clattering sound each time you set it down. 

You'd run the same damn tests. 

Ask the same damn questions. 

Collect the information on the same damn electronic pad. 

And you'd end the session with the same damn confirmation of the next. 

You seemed pleased with each session so far, but W0NW00 couldn't quite imagine you were able to gain much from these diagnostics. Maybe this session could be different if you'd just loosen up a bit. 

"Please," he sighs defeatedly, trying to soften your firm demeanor. "Please just refer to me as Wonwoo."

"I'm sorry, W0NW00," you'd start, but he'd cut you off before you could say another word. 

"But," he repeated the same words from each session when he'd ask this question. His words were bitter as he spoke. "But that would be inappropriate of me. I have to refer to you by your designated name during these tests or else I can compromise the diagnostics. Same old, same old, Y/N. You're so predictable." 

This stunned you a bit. You could see the switch before your eyes for once. He had asked for you to call him Wonwoo in such a kind, polite tone, yet when he realized you didn't bite the bait, he switched quickly on you. 

W0NW00 almost cried out, thinking he had cracked you for once, but this was reversed when you smiled, speedily writing something down on your clipboard as if this had satisfied you.

Which it did, you were excited to see the switch from his positive state to a negative state before you. This was exciting progress. You just needed a few more diagnostic tests to ensure there weren't any remaining outliers in the data that you could eliminate. 

W0NW00 could basically sense you bouncing in your seat, making his mood go sour for the remainder of the session. 

However, you threw W0NW00 off a bit this session, you had one new question. One that you declared you were able to establish from the other questions. 

"W0NW00," you hum, reading the question from your electronic pad, "what makes you so resistant to entertainment? I must question this, you're made to entertain after all?"

"What?" W0NW00 snarls, pulling the most visceral reaction from him yet. "I'm not resistant to entertainment. I'm not sure what you pulled from your data to get that understanding."

"Well, can you enlighten me? Or should I just run the test?" 

"Sure, I can enlighten you. Have you ever considered I feel the same way that you do? That I can have my own thoughts as you do?"

"Of course I do -"

"No," W0NW00 cuts you off. "I don't think you do, that is the thing. You run these tests on me like any other developer. Actually, you're a bit colder than most developers. But it's not just here. I can feel it everywhere else. I'm treated like a product. The whole group is treated like products. I know that's my duty, but I can't help but feel like there is more than being consumed. There is more to living, even if I am just an automation." 

You're aggressively typing this all into the computer, making sure you don't miss a single word as W0NW00 rambles on. This is the most W0NW00 has confided in you. Sure the tests pull valuable information regarding W0NW00's feelings, but this is more than the computer could ever tell you. Hearing W0NW00's organic stream of consciousness is extremely valuable to running your diagnostics. 

W0NW00 is quick to stop once he realizes he's pleasing you, ending his thoughts and returning his attention to the sterile wall ahead of him. "That is all." 

You try to hide your smile. He's being spiteful, you know he's realized that he has fed a bit too much information to you today, and he's stopping himself while he is at it. Regardless, you're pleased with today's session. 

You wrap up as usual. You collect all the data onto your electronic pad, file away the data, and turn off the computer. You're about to leave and confirm you're next session before W0NW00 stops you yet again.

"Save it," W0NW00 sighs. "I'm aware of when our next session is. You don't have to announce it each time. You're just like a broken record."

★+ OVERSET +★

"You don't understand it do you?" W0NW00 growls. Frustrated as another day passes with you as his developer. The same old routine is being performed over and over. You still don't understand his frustrations, at this point, anyone with a functioning brain should. He wasn't understanding why it wasn't clicking for you, you were clearly intelligent, but god damn, you were brainwashed by the system just like this company.

"What do you mean?" You question, intrigued by W0NW00's sudden outburst. He's more displeased than usual during your sessions. Whilst you've been able to collect a good amount of data from the previous sessions, you have slowly been seeing W0NW00 speak more and more. Today was clearly a day he was ready to speak. 

"That these sessions don't help."

You spin in your chair, turning to face the clearly perturbed robot. You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms and settling further into your seat. You raise a hand, a motion to indicate that he should continue, get whatever it is off his chest while he's at it. "What makes you say that?"

"Seriously?" He says incredulously, "You're part of the system. The system that I have grown to hate. I cannot live without having each and every emotion of mine prodded. I cannot live without worrying about how I impact others. I cannot have my own thoughts ever, and here you are trying to change and poke and prod at me."

You're computer is running data at a rapid speed, W0NW00's emotions translating through the screen as his system and neural networks work at an incredible pace. Your eyes flick between him and the screen, wanting to pay more attention as W0NW00's words intrigue you. 

Each session you've grown to understand him more and more. You've become increasingly aware of how he feels, and you feel a bit guilty. He's right, robots have become so advanced, but it isn't right to treat them as just a commodity. 

Your change in procedural work hasn't gone unnoticed by management. You continue to follow protocols, but you've been a bit messier. You've become more curious about W0NW00. You're avoiding the development of codes that will reset his defined emotions. You're avoiding the final steps that are required to lessen W0NW00's malicious side, and management is demanding results. 

Management claims it is an inevitable malware that's coded into his system. That it's taken him over. He's closer and closer to self-destruction, closer to sabotaging the group, and closer to losing his fanbase. 

You no longer have the desire to please the company. You're too curious about W0NW00 at this point, but you can't do anything too drastic. Not until you have a proper game plan. You've heard of recent escapes from Earth, and at the rate W0NW00 is sharing information, you don't doubt that some members of his group will be escaping soon.  

It's easy to understand how he's frustrated. The more you listened to him, filtered through his data, and studied the group, it became clear that he wasn't fulfilled. He desires more, it's only natural for anyone who has a conscience. 

W0NW00 doesn't see it since you've been trying to remain under the radar, but you understand him. You can see it in his performances. You can see it in the results of these sessions, and you can definitely see it as W0NW00 continues to rant. 

"I feel stuck, Y/N. Is this what it is like for you? Do you feel stuck in your job as a developer? Do you get satisfaction from this just like everyone else around me does? If I could just leave, I wo-"

"Wonwoo," you're voice drops low, fearful of what he will say. Every single word and thought of his is documented. If he speaks of any intention to escape, you know it will draw a red flag for the company and his management. You know you'll have to destroy the data from today's session. You'll determine how to do this later, but your concern right now is to stop W0NW00 before he says anything stupid. "You need to 

Of course, W0NW00 pauses upon hearing you refer to him as Wonwoo, as he has requested many times. He's angered quickly again when you don't speak, annoyed by the way you seem off-character and squeamish in your chair, infuriated by the way you frantically click at your mouse, trying to terminate the program. 

"Now you're referring to me as Wonwoo? Is this just a trick to see how I'll react?" He continues to rant, hands tightly gripping the table and eyebrows threaded together as he works himself up. You pay little to no attention to him, trying to ease the situation at hand ahead of you on the LED screen.

The computer is suddenly crashing, the code that you were previously running is now indicating an infinite loop, and the program is faulting as your computer continues to malfunction. In a panic, you're doing everything you can to execute the code, scared that management will recognize this oddity. 

This session has overset W0NW00, and you're uncertain about what to do, as you've never seen a code turn malicious. You're eyes go wide, staring at W0NW00, you can't believe it. 

All you can do is jump out of your seat and run over to W0NW00 to remove the electronic diagnostic band from his arm. You have to stop the data recording and terminate the code by eliminating the connection to the computer. 

W0NW00 is aghast as you tear the band off his arm, your hands feeling warm on his cold body as you make sure there are no remaining connections to the system. 

"Wonwoo," you whisper, sternly as you stare into his eyes. He seems to soften for once, sensing the urgency in your shaky words as you quell his anger. "You need to calm down. I understand you. I really do. But I need you to know you need to watch what you say." 

"You understand?" Wonwoo exhales, feeling hopeful as you wrap up the diagnostic band tightly, nodding as you begin to fiddle with the band, acting as if you are troubleshooting problems with it in case management questions the removal of it. 

"I do," you speak lowly, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you lock eyes with Wonwoo. "But you need to realize you're stepping into dangerous territory. I don't mean to interrupt you, but I'm trying to protect you." 

For once, he is looking at you with relief. His eyes are full of stars as he actually feels like he's being heard for once. 

For once, you are looking at him like he is human. 

It makes him feel something he's never felt before. 

Your breathing is shallow as you connect with Wonwoo for the first time, your heart pounding so hard in your chest that you can practically hear it in your ears. Wonwoo observes how flushed your cheeks are, registering how emotional you are actually feeling, and realizing just how serious you are. 

"I'm going to put this band back on, but you need to proceed with the session just like any other. We cannot return to the same topic. Do not indicate any desire to escape." You emphasize this prior to wrapping the diagnostic band around his arm, a nod of his head confirming he's heard your words and has taken them seriously. 

Returning to your desk, you begin to reload the software. However, before you finalize the restart, you softly speak again, "I will have to refer to you as W0NW00 again. I apologize, but please understand." 

"I understand," Wonwoo's voice is hushed, a soft smile gracing his features as you breathe out in relief. 

"W0NW00," you start, voice returning to a professional tone. You eye him closely, your mannerisms indicating that you have successfully started the program up, and are once again recording data.  "I apologize for that. It seems as if the system crashed. Shall we proceed with the session?" 

"Yes," Wonwoo indicates, trying his hardest to not overthink the current events. 

Wonwoo understands it now. Understands that you aren't all systematic, that his words have an impact on you, and that you are receptive after all. He has more faith in you now, knowing that you're here to protect him. 

You continue and complete the session as usual. However, this time there is an understanding between you and Wonwoo. One that you'll do everything to erase the data on. You'll do anything to help Wonwoo. 

★+ Comfort in Your Thoughts, Voice, and Touch +★

Things have since changed between you and Wonwoo. You now start the sessions differently, you take the time to set up your computer, and you allow Wonwoo to remove his band prior to the program.

You told him you'd argue with the company that it's to save his charge. However, you now look forward to your talks with Wonwoo prior to your sessions, talking freely knowing that the computer is no longer able to collect each and every bit of information. 

Wonwoo loves that you call him by his preferred name during these undocumented talks with you. He loves the melodic sound of your laugh when he cracks a witty joke. He feels an uncontrollable obsession developing within him that he can't quite understand. 

Wonwoo feels better and feels more understood around you, he can see changes in your behavior. You're not as systematic, more relaxed around him, only returning to your default systematic behavior once he is connected to the diagnostic band. 

Your touch haunts him, the feeling of your nimble fingers on his arm when you wrap and unwrap the band around his bicep has him overanalyzing his thoughts. 

He feels lighter, he doesn't feel as burdened after being heard by you, understood by you, and connected to you by your fleeting touches. Wonwoo can't help but look forward to these sessions with you. 

Who would have thought that'd been the case days ago?

Oddly enough, these sessions have been improving Wonwoo's negative state of mind, reversing the trend of his daily emotions and leading them in more of a positive state. Management has taken note of this, unsure if these changes are taking place when you haven't implemented any developmental changes in him. 

For now, they don't question it. 

Regardless, Wonwoo yearns to hear your voice, yearns for your occasional touch, and yearns to spend time with you. Even if it's him locked in this sterile room, he's glad it's with you. 

Wonwoo has grown too comfortable for once. Inevitably, as he once believed, the system tends to disrupt everything that was once good. 

★+ The Escape +★

You've begun hearing of members of 53V3NT33N escaping Earth and traveling to other planets. Wonwoo isn't aware of it, he's been stuck with you in R&D for days now after management has cracked down on his diagnosis. 

However, today was a different day. Management knows you are erasing data. You were confronted with it before today's session. They've noticed peculiarities in Wonwoo's behavior, in the data reports you've returned, and in the results you've been providing. They've also noticed the increase in "blank" spots, and the increase in system errors, unlike the software systems that have been developed to perfection. 

Albeit, you weren't providing any updates of substance, which wasn't per your reputation as a developer, and your lack of urgency during the time of other member's escapes was especially concerning to management. 

Wonwoo can't help but notice the aggressive rate at your leg shakes. It's been like this since the beginning of today's session. 

"Everything alright?" He questions, genuinely worried about your anxious state. You're never like this, even as you two have been sneaking more time together prior to sessions.

Wonwoo's words are drowned out, the tapping of your pen against the desk resounding through your head as you consider your options. You know it's time to make a move. 

You have access to a ship. There is one in the development center that you could hijack, it was simple; you'd just have to make sure you tear away the tracking core to ensure the company can't locate you and Wonwoo. 

You're haunted by anxious thoughts. Was it even possible to get Wonwoo out of this room without management noticing? Where would you even go? When was the last time you traveled to another planet? How will Wonwoo react to news of other members escaping?

Would Wonwoo even want to go with you? Does he even trust you enough?

You stand up from your seat, shutting down the computer in front of you just as quickly as you had booted it up. Striding over to Wonwoo, you make sure his band isn't wrapped around his arm yet. 

"Wonwoo," you speak eerily calmly, "Your members are escaping."

"What?" He's confused, not quite understanding the weight of your words. 

"It isn't just you who has implied leaving Earth, others are too. They've just held you here for a bit too long for you to know."

He's clearly processing, not quite sure where you're headed with this, but he leans towards you in anticipation, hanging on to your next words. 

"Management is onto me as well," you breathe, voice quivering as you realize how serious this may be. "They know we aren't progressing with our sessions as I should be. They know I am terminating data. They are onto me, and I'm not sure how much longer they will keep me here."

The weight of your words settles on him. "What can we do? Where are the members going?"

"I can locate a ship. There are multiple in the terminal right off the plant here. If we are strategic enough," you pause, gauging his reaction. He doesn't seem appalled by the implication of your word so you can continue. "We can escape too, we can be freed from the shackles of this system like you've been talking about."

There's a minute's pause between you two as you both consider the situation. 

"How can we trick management?" He ponders, hinting that he isn't against your suggestion, but he does realize this requires a bit more thought than just running. 

"I just -" you stutter, uncertain of any plan. "I can't think of any way to fake that we are in our session. The band reports everything. Management will know if we leave our session if you never put the band on." 

"I mean," Wonwoo thinks some more, peering down at the port on his arm where the band connects. "Is there a way," he slowly speaks, eyes implying what you're horrified he may reference as he peers at his port, "is there a way that we can tear this port out? Leave it with the band?"

"I'm not so sure about that, Wonwoo. I mean, it could have negative effects on your system, and I'm not sure how successful that would be. It would be too risky to the health of your network." 

"It's worth trying," he pleads, already toying with the port on his arm, already seeming as if it were possible to remove the said part. 

"You can't, I said it would be too risky-" you argue, but Wonwoo stuns you, pulling the port out of his arm. It's immediately recognizable that the port has disrupted something, and you can verify from initial inspection that it will definitely have an effect on the efficiency of his charging. 

"See," he chides, but he can sense the effect on his system too. Nonetheless, he connects the port to the band, and the diagnostic band accepts the port. "It works, go check on your computer." 

You rush to the computer, reboot it, and load the same software. You're jaw drops, almost unbelieving that the program recognizes the port without being directly connected to Wonwoo. It isn't feeding any valuable information, but it's recognizing that it's him regardless. 

"It's working," you chime in disbelief, eyes wide as you turn to him, realizing this is the time to make the run for it. 

"Lead the way," Wonwoo declares, encouraging you both to move forward with the escape. 

There is no hesitation between you two as you lead him through the bright hallways of the R&D wing. There is a shortcut that leads to the terminal where the ships are, if you can get through there undetected, you are bound to make it to the ships. 

If anyone were to spot Wonwoo, they would be suspicious. Of course, he's recognizable, and with everyone in the company being high-strung regarding escapes, it would be an immediate red flag. 

Thankfully, you two make it unscathed to the terminal, and you work quickly to prep the ship. 

"Wonwoo," you gain his attention from beneath the ship as he helps the best he can, mostly just on the lookout as you prepare. "I don't have the strength, can you attempt to pull the core out from beneath the ship? There is a tracking device, and we'll need to pull this before we leave."

"Of course," Wonwoo is quick to trade places with you. He works swiftly, but your eyes dart around the terminal. It's dreary, industrial, and clean. Everything you've started to resent over the past few days. It encourages your escape even more, a wash of relief falling over your shoulders as you determine this is the right situation. 

Wonwoo appears from under the ship, the core of the craft held in his hands before he smashes it against the ground, shattering the material at both your feet. 

"Let's go," you smile, climbing into the ship with Wonwoo and booting up the vessel. Your adrenaline has never run so high, you feel it through your veins as the vibration of the ship resonates through you. 

It's been a while since you've started up one of these, thankful you were able to successfully start the craft up without issues. Wonwoo is impressed too, of course never navigating one himself. 

It's a blur how you two escape, taking off at light speed as you accelerate up into space, leaving the stratosphere of Earth at a record speed, and focusing until you've fully left the exosphere. 

You have no clear where to go from here, but, holy shit, you've successfully left. And you have Wonwoo here with you. 

★+ The Long Path Home +★

It's a long path for you and Wonwoo. It's uncertain where you'll end up. You've heard of a planet called Lumen before, but you have no clue how to even get there. You're just thankful Wonwoo can even assist in navigating the ship between planets. 

Your first stop is Opifex. After the escape from Earth, Wonwoo suffered significant damage during the boarding of the ship. His arm was damaged in the process of tearing out his main port, the tear in his arm reflecting in the functionality of his charging system. This concerned you more than Wonwoo could understand. You weren't sure if you could make this travel alone without him.

You rarely visited Opifex, but you had connections as you'd offer occasional assistance in developing robots that were created on this planet. 

Your main connection was a level 3 robot named Changkyun. He had previously assisted in the creation of another idol robot, which you were the head developer of. You hadn't spoken to him since, yet you knew he'd be able to help Wonwoo. Discreetly at that. 

You knew you weren't safe yet. Even if the tracking was removed from the ship and you had escaped from Earth, anyone could identify Wonwoo and the logo on your ship. 

There was a constant state of fear during your travel to Opifex that you'd be caught. Tracked down. That Wonwoo would completely lose his charge. 

"What is wrong, Y/N?" Wonwoo's concerned for you. He knows exactly why you're anxious, he is too. But he's hoping he can quell your anxiety somehow. 

"I'm just tired, Wonwoo," you sigh, checking the ship's charge levels, anxiety only growing upon realizing you really do have to stop in Opifex soon. "Also concerned about getting to Lumen safely. We really need to stop at Opifex to make sure you're repaired before we even consider locating Lumen." 

Wonwoo's free hand runs through your hair, the comforting motion alien to you, but you gladly accept it, leaning your head into his hand as he soothes you. 

"How much longer until we reach Opifex?" You can tell Wonwoo is drained too. He needs Changkyun's help as soon as possible. 

"I believe only a day more of travel," you confirm per the navigation. You know how to get there, and where to land. You decide against pinging Changkyun, in order to eliminate as much of a footprint as possible. 

"Why don't you get some rest?" Wonwoo prods when he realizes your eyes start to roll back, head bobbing to the side after a while. 

"Do you mind?" 

"Of course not," he smiles gently, making your stomach flip. 

You oblige, not having the will to fight after the past events. You lay back in the cot behind the main seating area. Observing Wonwoo as he takes his place in the captain's seat, he adjusts the controls to his liking as he navigates Opifex. 

Your heart pounds as you observe him, Wonwoo made you feel free, he made you feel safe even in times like this. You've never felt this way about anyone. It's hard to fall asleep, these thoughts consuming your mind.

Wonwoo turns back to check on you, the same soft smile making you flush as you lay on the bed admiring him. You can't help but feel a connection with him, emotionally, and desire even more. 

Eventually, sleep took you after much contemplation of your thoughts.

When you awoke, it only felt like you had slept a blink of an eye's time. The ship rattled, alarming you and jostling you awake. Only to realize that Wonwoo had landed the ship. You immediately recognized the planet, he had safely landed the ship at Opifex. 

Wonwoo's smile relaxed you even further, dusting off his pants as he stood up and headed towards you. As per usual, Wonwoo's hand ran through your hair, instantaneously soothing you. 

"We've arrived," he coos softly, trying his best not to overstimulate you more in your drowsy state. "Just lead the way once you're ready."

It's easy to see he is drained as well, in desperate need of a charge, and you're relieved that you've made it to Opifex. 

The both of you quickly tidy yourselves up, you do your best to cover Wonwoo's damaged arm, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to the automation as you make your way to Changkyun's workshop. 

There was an odd sense of security here, but you knew you had to lay low. You didn't want word of your appearance here. You knew his company would be looking for him, as that's all they were doing prior to the escape for the other members who had left before Wonwoo. 

It was easy to find Changkyun, his shop was located where you had previously remembered it. It felt almost nostalgic coming across his shop, he had an eclectic style, yet the place was tidy enough to store and easily find all his supplies.  

"Y/N?" Changkyun questioned in delightful surprise as you knocked at his door. "What are you doing here? It's been quite some time."

"Hello, Changkyun," you smile brightly. Something that Wonwoo can only pin as jealous pings inside him at your reaction. 

How odd, he thinks to himself. 

"Do you mind if we come in? I do have a favor to ask, which is why we are here," you speak quickly, emphasizing that you didn't just show up for no reason. 

Changkyun holds the door open for you both, allowing you and Wonwoo to shuffle into the shop. Wonwoo takes note of the large magnifying lens contraption strapped to Changkyun's head, quickly noting that he is a Level 3 robot, and shows his own wear and tear after working all these years. 

Wonwoo immediately deems him as trustworthy.

"What is this favor you are requesting," Changkyun prods, curiously eyeing Wonwoo as if he could understand where this was going. 

"I can't share too many details," you speak hurriedly, beginning to unwrap the material around Wonwoo's damaged arm to provide Changkyun with a visualization of the problem at hand. "We've escaped Earth. However, in the process of avoiding getting caught, Wonwoo had ripped his port out. I think it's affecting his charging system. I just don't think we can go on for much longer until we have some sort of fix."

Changkyun hums in understanding, immediately resorting to his tools and materials. "I'm not sure if I'll have the materials for a level 1 robot, I haven't created one in quite some time, but let me see what I have."

You and Wonwoo let Changkyun search, shuffling around the shop quietly as you try your best to quell your anxiety. You hope and pray that Changkyun can help, there is no one else you feel comfortable resorting to. There is an unspoken trust that you have with the Level 3 robot, after spending years learning from his skills and further understanding the creation of robots. 

Wonwoo's free hand is grasped in yours, you aren't quite sure when this happened, but it eases you slightly. You've grown to become attached to Wonwoo, amazed by how quickly things changed between each session and landing you in this scenario. 

Thankfully, after a while of searching, Changkyun determines he has parts that will suffice, and will be enough to repair Wonwoo's system in order to allow him to charge properly. 

Changkyun bids you off, encouraging you to get some rest as he makes the proper repairs to Wonwoo. You're continuously flooded with thoughts, but part of you feels better knowing you now have Changkyun's help. You hope Wonwoo can charge up before you continue your journey. 

It takes a few hours, Changkyun claims the connections are not as direct as he thought they'd be, but by the time he is done, Wonwoo seems way too worn down. 

Changkyun encourages you both to get your rest before continuing with your journey. He offers you a place to stay, it isn't much, but it's a spare bedroom in the back of his shop, offering it as a safe place to rest before continuing. 

"Thank you," you hum sincerely, expressing your gratitude one last time before Changkyun wraps up for the day to head to his normal engagements. "Thank you so much for your help." 

"Anytime, Y/N," he smiles, bidding you both good-bye and good luck on the rest of your journey. 

That night you and Wonwoo share the crickety bed in the back of Changkyun's shop. Wonwoo had been timid originally, but you claimed it was alright, that it would provide you some more comfort if anything.

Wonwoo was relieved at that because he couldn't think of anything better. He was finally able to get closer to you. 

Laying next to him, you adjusted the glasses and sat on the bridge of his nose, they'd always fall down a bit when he wasn't paying attention, a feature about him that you found so endearing.

Wonwoo was seeming better already, charging much faster than you anticipated. His hands found their way to your arm, nimble fingers running up and down your skin. 

He could recognize the way your skin bubbled with chills, uncertain of what he was doing that made you react this way. His skin didn't react like this to touch, but the way yours reacts reminds him just how sensitive humans are. 

"What are you doing?" You hum in content, enjoying the softness of Wonwoo's skin on yours. His skin was different, not nearly as warm as a human touch, but the synthetic skin was so smooth, feeling comfortable as it dragged across yours. 

"What are these bumps on your arm?" He asks out of genuine curiosity. 

"You're kidding," you laugh, eyes opening humorously to gauge if Wonwoo is serious. He is absolutely dead serious. "It's this phenomenon, we tend to call them goosebumps. It's a bodily alert that humans feel, a reaction to touch." 

Wonwoo hums in acknowledgment, "Is it good?"

"In this case," you smile, enjoying his innocent curiosity, "it is very good. It feels nice what you're doing. Very soothing."

"What else causes goosebumps?"

You can't tell if he's twisting your arm at this point, looking for a reaction, because there is an insinuation in his tone as his hand drags upwards towards your neck, looking for more of a reaction from your skin. Which he earns, as goosebumps run all up and down your body at his barely-there touch. 

His fingers travel to the crook of your neck, his hand wrapping around the back of your head and finding a home in your hair. He pulls you closer, testing the waters as he yearns to feel more of your body against his. Curious to see if he can pull more of a reaction out of you. It's all so new for him and he's hungry for more. 

"Wonwoo," you whimper, allowing him to pull you into his body, your lips falling impossibly close to his perfectly molded ones. "Are you trying to send me into shock?"

You try to joke, but your words come out whiney as Wonwoo's lips brush yours. 

"I don't know," he teases, his plush buds continuing to skim yours. "Is this good?"

"It's very good," you confirm yet again, your breath being knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo's lips finally attach to yours. Kissing him is different, it's almost as if he's immediately on the same wavelength as you. 

Your lips fall into the same rhythm, and you're just realizing this is something you've been craving for a while now. It becomes heated quickly, and Wonwoo's hands stay wrapped in your hair, ensuring you can't break away from the kiss. 

He understands what it is like to be addicted to something now. He recognizes this feeling as lust, knowing of its effects and understanding why humans love it so much. He needs more of you and he needs more now.

Wonwoo pulls you on top of him, the motion feeling incredibly natural as he continues to kiss you, swallowing your little noises as you moan in delight. 

You can sense him react to you in a similar manner as a human. You forget how advanced Level 1 robots are sometimes. You had been a bit worried that he wouldn't react similarly, but you can feel his cock swells beneath you. 

"Wonwoo," you whine, finally breaking the kiss after what felt like light years of delight. However, you need more. "Please, need you to touch me. Need you to fuck me." 

"I need it too, Y/N," he groans, the sound that comes from him is deep, uncharacteristic of his usual voice, but it sends shivers down your spine. Wonwoo is encouraged by the goosebumps that reappear on your skin, very apparent to him as you remove your shirt. 

Wonwoo's lips instinctually wrap around your pebbled nipple, loving the way the bud peaks along with the bumps on your skin. He's even more encouraged by the sound that falls from your lips, a breathy moan that has his cock growing even harder. 

"Please," you croon. "Can't wait much longer." 

He's quick to pull his pants down, helping you stumble out of your shorts and underwear as well. He's amazed by how wet your nether regions are, and you're amazed by just how perfectly sculpted his cock is. 

"You're perfect," you moan, running your folds over his length and pulling another groan of pleasure from him. "God, whoever created you did an amazing job."

You raise yourself slightly, teasing yourself with the head of his cock, the skin soft against your folds as you wet his length. You sink down slowly, your walls contracting in delight as your pussy greedily accepts his thick manhood. 

Wonwoo recognizes the slight pain in your features as you accept him, but he can also sense the relief you feel as he bottoms out, feeling the contraction of your walls around him throughout his entire system. 

"Let me ride you," you moan when you sense that Wonwoo is hesitant. "Let me take care of you." 

He doesn't argue, overwhelmed by the unrecognizable pleasure he feels as you begin to bob up and down on his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, a sensation he's never felt before as they clamp into his shoulders, leaving divots in his synthetic skin and claiming your mark on him. 

The pathetic noises that tumble out of you encourage him to move, his hips rolling upwards into yours and pulling even more deranged sounds from you, ones that encourage him to groan in enjoyment. 

Wonwoo watches as a bead of sweat falls down your neck, loving the effect and glow that graces your skin. His hands wrap into your hair, pulling it up off your neck as you continue to ride his cock with more fervor. 

He pulls on your hair tightly, enough for you to feel a tinge of pain, but it only increases the pleasure you feel in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your clit burns and throbs at the pleasure, your core heating and winding up tightly as you roll your hips against his, meeting each thrust of his. 

"Wonwoo," you're screaming at this point, eyes blown out as you watch him, his jaw hanging slack as he becomes overwhelmed with the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. The friction of your pussy around his cock has him feeling engulfed in all ways by you. 

The pleasure that builds inside him begins to feel impossible to fight off, he's unsure if he can hold this feeling back much longer, especially not when your walls throb around him with each thrust. 

It's brutal at this point, the sound of your skin slapping against his, the visual of your breasts bouncing in front of him, and how you feel all too perfect like this. 

"Y/N," he breathes out in desperation, "can't hold it for much longer. You feel too good."

"Good," you cry out, no longer able to hold your own pleasure back. "Finish with me, Wonwoo, release." 

Wonwoo can feel the fluttering of your walls, the intense pleasure exploding inside you as you spasm around his cock, your body falling limp in his arms as you reach your high. Wonwoo is pleasured too, but you're not filled with cum, only watching as he reaches his own form of pure pleasure. He continues to thrust into you, driving you into overstimulation. 

Wonwoo doesn't realize you're spent, especially since he can't necessarily be spent himself, he has the stamina of a Level 1 automation overall. However, he recognizes it after he pulls one more orgasm from you, holding up your form as your limbs can no longer hold your body up. 

That night you sleep incredibly well in his arms, connecting with him on a level you would have never anticipated. This was something you would have never imagined as a developer, something you always condemned previously, as you feared growing a connection like this. 

But now that you have it, you'd do everything to not lose it. 

The next morning, you are awoken by a frantic Wonwoo. Changkyun had come early, informing you that there are correspondent Level 3 robots searching for you and Wonwoo. 

Word has spread, and you're no longer safe here at Opifex. 

Changkyun informs you that your ship has been reclaimed by the company. However, he offers you an older ship he has in the far back of his shop. It isn't the most modern craft, but it will get you to Lumen. 

After providing you with the proper navigation and instructions on the ship, Changkyun bids you both goodbye yet again. 

Thankfully because of Changkyun, you and Wonwoo are able to escape yet again, continuing your journey to Lumen. You continue to spend this time with Wonwoo, feeling more at piece in an unidentifiable craft, and knowing that his damage has been repaired. 

It's comfortable with Wonwoo, you two work well as partners you've determined. You take shifts navigating the ship, Wonwoo has become quite the captain as you spend the next few days searching for Lumen. 

Thankfully, your trip has come to an end, even though you've enjoyed the time with Wonwoo, the travel has been tough. You can see Lumen in the distance. A planet similar to Earth, yet seemingly a bit more thriving as you approach the safe haven planet. 

★+ Lumen +★

Lumen. Wonwoo and you had finally landed safely on the planet. It felt safe. It felt like home. You felt as if you could be anything and everything you wanted to be with Wonwoo. 

Lumen is similar to Earth, yet the land is lush and the population is diverse. Travelers from multiple planets have made their way here seeking safety. Here you felt accepted. You didn't have to consider the previous system of Earth. You weren't tied to anything. 

Both you and Wonwoo could start fresh, and you both could sense this feeling. Wonwoo held your hand tightly, breathing in the fresh air and peering down at you. You looked peaceful, eyes shut as you did the same, head lulling back as the crisp air filled your senses. 

This made Wonwoo's eyes flood with adoration seeing you look this free. He remembered what you once were like on the first day you met him. He felt lucky knowing he could be here with you, like this, now. He knows of others who weren't that lucky to have their partners with them after escaping their planets.  

Here you'd settle with Wonwoo, in a quaint house where you two could be your true selves, and not worry about others' expectations of you two. Wonwoo holds you tightly at night, knowing that he always has you, the first person who has ever understood and listened to him. The unexpected developer that he can live freely with.