#and his soft and kind of tired ‘and with you Zee’

[thehalfbloodfreak]

The way Cal literally paused when Zee told him “May the force be with you all” because no one ever says it to him first let alone back to him anymore

[movedtolilmouzee]

Sup, how are you? Are your requests open? If so can I request a NSFW+Fluff with Suga, Asahi, Tendou and Nishinoya with a s/o who adore and worship every part of them and want to make them feel loved?

𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱?

𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘕𝘢𝘩𝘰𝘺𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘈𝘴𝘢𝘩𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮, 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘰𝘳.

(Zee's note- Hello, Hello. I'm ok, I started my new job and have been absolutely busy for the past few weeks but I'm using the time off I have to catch up with requests, but anyway hope your well and hydrated. Enjoy <3.)

Suga is loved by everyone in the community, he's seen as such a sweet person, always kind and caring and all around the perfect person if you need someone to cheer to you up. Many describe suga as the perfect dream boyfriend to have and you can confirm that. Even though suga can seem to be shy and like he wouldn't know where to begin with sex but suga loves keeping that image about himself and surprising whoever his current partner.

Surprise you is exactly what suga did, he seemed to know every weak spot on your body. Placing soft kisses on your neck trailing them down your stomach, all around your thighs. Suga loves oral, mainly giving but he doesn't mind receiving. Suga thrives on the sounds you make, you sound so angelic, moaning sugas name while he pushes his fingers inside you, slowly dragging them against your gummy walls, his tongue making quick work until you cum in his mouth, spitting apologies as suga smiles watching you.

Suga loves coming home from practice and tournaments to just relax with you. Candles light around the house, making it smell of whatever new one you bought. Suga loves going on adventures. Getting out of the house and going where ever but at tines he'd rather just sit at home and let his body recalculate.

It's even better when you snuggle up next to him, ask him if he needs anything or just sit by him and play on your phone. Even if you and suga sit in silence for hours, he's happy just having having near him. During these more calming days suga will find a short new series to binge watch with you, having snacks and drinks ready and available, suga almost always falls asleep either before or after you do.

It's no secret Asahi has some anxiety and worries pretty much everyday, it could be about the simplest things that he can't control but will stress about. The only times Asahi isn't worrying is when you happily agree to top him, letting him lay on the couch, looking up at you with a soft smile. Now don't get me wrong, Asahi is a soft service dom, he loves being in control but it's nice to switch up the routine, a nice breath of fresh air. Asahi is such a loud moaner too, he used to hate it and hide it until you asked him to you hear and now he's like a radio for you.

Now as I said, it's not surprise Asahi gets nervous a lot, and most of time he can't help but wonder if you ever get tired of him and his brain. Asahi doesn't like asking you if you've ever gotten annoyed with him because you could give him a pity answer but he finds so much comfort in you. Anytime you offer ideas, plans, dates, even ask him something that redirects his way of thinking gives him comfort. Asahi will have the confidence to tell you someday, don't worry.

This absolute little shithead demon has such an obsession with stuffing every hole possible with his cum. He doesn't care if he's gonna be late, hasn't eaten yet, nothing can stop this man from getting what he wants. It's even worse when you've you've bratty and practically demanded for his attention, he'll force you to walk around with his cum dripping onto your clothes, even going as far to make you send pictures just so he knows you've behaved.

Now tendou is like chaotic neutral in my opinion, always being the life of the party, trying to lighten anyone who may be in a mood. He's often found weird, too loud, noisey and not liked by many which may seem like it doesn't bother him but at the end of the day the words do stick with him.

He doesn't tell anyone of these worries and how it affects him but he finds a lot pf comfort when you start to match how excited, goofy, or happy he is. Adding onto the jokes, making stupid poses, makes tendou happy that someone doesn't just find him too outgoing or crazy.

Nishinoya has so much energy and stamina. Too much for his own good and this follows him even into sex. He can go for hours, while just having small breaks. He understands when you say no and can't keep going, a bit sad he'll happily clean you up, cuddle and give you all the forehead kisses you can ask for.

Offering to let him use your thighs while you fall asleep makes him the happiest person alive, he ask you if your sure a thousand times before pulling his boxers down and quickly laying your plush thighs around his cock, trying to keep a slow pace but almost immediately speeding up feeling the pleasure it's giving him.

Now volleyball is an important part of his life, he knows it could lead him to something bigger then he could dream of, so he often finds himself getting so focused in the sport that he neglects every other important aspect in his life, school being one of them.

Nahoya is so so so thankful when you offer to help him catch up with things. Helping him study for test and all around just being with him for support. He feels awful when you stay up late and pass our from exhaustion but he's so thankful for you and will happily go to the ends of the earth just to find whatever you want.

[lix-ables]

🎀 . SMUT, MDNI.

☽ chan was the kind of guy that would take you out on random dates, or late night driving just to star gaze, or even be the first to order takeout when you’re both tired and all you want to do is laze around on the couch. 

chan was also the softest with you, and i’m talking the softest. this was that night – the night that he let you lead, for maybe just a few minutes, the very same night that the moment he got home, his hands were all over you.

his palms spread across your body, trailing his fingertips along the length of your arm while he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you let him drag you to the couch, it was the closest, and within minutes your clothes were on the floor.

chan’s hands were huge and smooth, always moving along your skin and making sure that nothing was left untouched. you sigh, letting your fingers rest on his forearm as you watch him trace patterns to your skin before you sink down on his cock. 

his hands never stop – from kneading your ass and feeling you against him, to grabbing the sides of your waist to get a good grip, his fingers were busy the whole time. either your boyfriend was in the mood for teasing you, or he was just being soft with you and taking his own sweet time, it was working. you eyes close when you feel his hair tickle your chin as you grind against his hips. 

“mmm, chan” you’re trying not to whine so the sound comes as a squeak from your throat, your nails dig into his arms.

“fuck me, baby,” he whispers into your skin, as he plays with your nipples a little before trailing back down to your lower back. he leans back against the couch, and notices the fucked out look on your face, your lips parting as you bounce on his cock before stopping to grind against him. 

his fingers come between your bodies to rub your clit and smiles at the way you held onto him, leaving a soothing kiss to your shoulder when you try to pull away because of the overstimulation. 

chan’s hips thrust upward, catching you off guard and he tells you to relax as he takes care of you, helping you come down from your third or fourth orgasm of the night before letting you cling onto him.

taglist . 🍓 . @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @comet-falls @niijo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @hwan-g @svintsandghosts @idek-at-this-point-lol @es-kay-zee @writerracha @telesvng @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa @zoiescastle @compersian @jilixcuddles @teaspeungmin @eulaenthusiast @chriscentric

©lix-ables 2022. do not plagiarise/repost/translate. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED !!

[deluxewhump]

“He’s still thoughtful, and kind to it, and he certainly cares about its wellbeing…but it’s also very much an exotic little pet to him.”

so like u said this about max toward vamp carlo but now i cant stop thinking about vampire max,, smth like erik giving max a “human treat” as a gift and max not having the heart to hurt and torture carlo (unlike zee’s situation in the vamp au frat house), and definitely won’t simply suck carlo dry. but he still needs to feed and carlo’s *there*, and besides he justifies that’s what humans are for,,,, i mean like god the possibilities

I want you to know I was a bit distracted all morning by this concept!

Ok so Vampire Max and human pet Carlo, who was a gift from another (even older more powerful vampire) Erik Holstrom.

Max (as a vampire) is not really sold on the human pet thing. Politically he thinks it’s a disaster and he could just never be bothered to put the work in to get a mortal to LET you bite them three times a week but hey, this one was a gift. It is rude to decline a gift, especially from another vampire. And it is a sweet, frightened, willing little gift! He thinks Erik was not very attentive to him and may have been a little rough or punitive.

Vampire Max is not clueless about his human pets needs, though. He’s been around for, well, some time. Every evening he checks Carlos pulse with his fingers, takes his temperature, and asks him how he is feeling. Carlo whispers “Well. I’m well.” in quiet terror at first but eventually he understands his new vampire master wants an actual report. How tender are the puncture wounds today? Does this hurt when I press here? Are you hot? Cold? Headache, chills? You feel warm to me but you always do. (Wink, vampire joke)

As for the entire purpose of keeping a human pet… he gives Carlo a Valium or two an hour before he feeds from him, and makes sure he has eaten in the last several hours. He waits until Carlo is warm and almost drowsy, carefree from the Valium and then he calls him closer, takes from his soft wrist or the tender meat of the thumb. He takes just enough to satisfy, but not so much that Carlo feels sick or faints, though it still happens occasionally.

Through having Carlo he has discovered the least painful angle to make an incision with his fangs, how to draw slowly so it does not make him wince or whimper (though the winces and the whimpers DO make max hungrier, he doesn’t want to hurt his own pet mortal). He takes great care to disinfect and bandage the area after, and checks every evening on the healing progress. If he were to become slow to heal or show signs of infection, he would want to know immediately. They like it if you hold them after, he finds, which is never a thing when you simply feed to kill. But he likes holding this warm, fragile mortal in his arms once he has fed from him.

He asks Carlo about things he knows and things he’s seen, wondering what sort of myopic, stunted worldview this boy has and discovers it’s not as bad as he assumed. He’s a curious, bright creature, despite being a vampires chew toy half his life. Max tells him stories about the previous century, anything he can think that would inspire wonder or awe in a mortal who’s life is a blink of an eye. When Carlo gets too tired and falls asleep, Max either covers him where he lays or takes him to the bed he gave him.

He becomes very possessive in the sense he does not share, and when other vampires ask to try he tells them no (much to Carlos relief)

[rax-writes]

Enchanted - Part II

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Pairing:  Caliban x Reader Warnings:  Violence, death + resurrection Notes:  Part I ♥ Here’s part two! Hope you all like it!

Your relationship with Caliban did not remain a secret for long. Your sister was the first to know.

As you jogged over to her at the carnival the following weekend, you said, “Sister, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I know how the Plague Kings’ plan to overthrow you. They’ll be keeping an eye on you for any missteps, and once given probable cause, they will force you and Caliban to embark on a quest to retrieve the Unholy Regalia.”

She was visibly stunned, and understandably so. “That’s great! But how did you find all that out?”

“That would be the bad news.”

As if on cue, Caliban then materialized, and wrapped an arm around your waist – which was immediately noticed by Sabrina.

“What did you rope my sister into?” she snarled at Caliban, but you held up a hand to silence them both before the bickering began.

“Caliban came to me and stated that he wished to court me. I first tried to convince him to end the coup in exchange for courtship, but he explained that even if he wanted to, he is unable to stop the Kings. So, instead, the exchange became useful information for courtship.”

“Mhmm,” Sabrina mused disbelievingly, glaring at the man at your side. “And for how long does she have to date you?”

“The only requirement to fulfill our agreement is a single date, hence our presence at this mortal affair,” Caliban answered, then smiled warmly at you. “After that, the status of our courtship is up to my lady.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad,” Sabrina muttered, then shrugged as she turned to you. “At least you can get this night over with and never have to see him again.”

“In all honesty… I am not entirely opposed to seeing him again,” you admitted hesitantly, and Sabrina’s jaw dropped slightly as her brows furrowed in agitation. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sister. For Satan’s sake, have you seen him? He’s more than a little easy on the eyes.”

Caliban chuckled, both at your compliment and your sister’s obvious annoyance. “Come, little dove. Let us explore this fanciful event.”

Though the evening had been a delight, and you enjoyed your time with your date, you couldn’t help but notice that Caliban seemed slightly on edge all night. After the sun had gone down, and you’d surveyed the majority of the carnival, Caliban requested to take you to dinner in a nice restaurant. You agreed, and he thoroughly surprised you by taking you to a quiet, romantic rooftop restaurant in Italy, having remembered you stating that Italian was your favorite food. It was the following morning before you realized that he’d been sensing the impending danger of Herod’s attack. Coincidentally, he had disappeared for a short while during dinner, and although he’d claimed to have gone to the restroom, you learned from Sabrina the following morning that he’d actually returned to Greendale to collect King Herod's crown.

Naturally, the two of you had bickered about him cheating your sister the next time you were together, but his soft lips and skilled hands had done wonders to dissipate your anger. Although you refused to admit it, you were positively hooked from thereon out.

You told yourself that you continued the dates and the trysts simply because it was merely an enjoyable pastime. But in truth, it was because you were slowly falling for the prince. Knowing it was a mistake due to his allegiance to Hell, and his position as the enemy of your sister, created a forbidden nature to the romance, and it only made you crave him more.

Little did you know, Caliban felt the same for you. Your smile set his soul aflame, and your laughter made his chest tighten with affection. The sight of your hair fanned across your pillow, mouth slightly agape in pleasure, was not one he would ever grow tired of. He had fallen well and truly in love with you.

This information was kept secret from one another, because both of you were scared to admit such a thing and risk scaring the other away.

It wasn’t long after your mutual realizations that he met your aunts and Ambrose. Although they were all pleased to have met the object of your affection, and they remained civil with him, it was evident that each member of your family distrusted him, and questioned his intentions with you.

Their distrust turned out to be short-lived.

Immediately following your coven’s Hare Moon celebration, one of the Pagans had developed a very intense dislike for you. All it took was for her to sense that you were a very powerful member of your kind – that is, until your powers faded – and she, being a harpy, notorious for their insatiable hunger and lust for torture, had decided that she would feast upon your witch flesh as her next meal.

It was that evening when she appeared. You had been relaxing on the front porch of the Spellman Mortuary, and at first, you thought she was merely a mortal woman – then her wings spread out from behind her as her glamour faded, bird-like legs sprouted from her torso, and her face became hideous, decayed and rotting. You had instinctively tried to run, but it was futile. After all, harpies were originally thought to be the personification of wind, so it was unsurprising that you were in her clutches before you even made it to the door.

The harpy’s sharp talons dug into your shoulders, and you screamed for help as she launched you into the yard. You fell flat on your back, which knocked the wind out of you, and she was on you again in the blink of an eye. As you felt the most impossibly intense, agonizing pain across your abdomen, you screamed again as you glanced down and realized she had torn you open. She began feasting on your flesh and organs, blood dripping from her claws as she ravaged you.

You were vaguely aware of a horrified scream from Sabrina somewhere behind you. She had just swung open the front door of the Spellman household to see the ghastly scene before her, Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, and Ambrose right behind her. With a roar of pure rage, Ambrose charged at the harpy with his blade drawn, which drew her away from you. Sabrina and Hilda then kneeled beside you, the former with tears in her eyes and a terrified look on her face as she held your hand, and the latter clearly trying to hide her panic as she unsuccessfully attempted to heal you. But your injuries were far too extensive, and your loved ones’ magick was far too weak.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced through the night air, and you weakly turned your head to see Aunt Zelda holding a shotgun, Ambrose a few feet from your attacker, and the harpy lying dead on the ground. The two then ran over to you, both dropping to their knees at your side, their faces just as solemn and fearful as Sabrina and Aunt Hilda.

It was then, looking upon the panic-stricken faces of your family, that you knew you were going to die.

Darkness began to cloud your vision, and you vaguely heard your sister sobbing, and aunts and cousin begging you to stay conscious, giving you empty promises that they would find a way to fix this, and that everything would be alright. In the midst of all their hysterics, it seemed an idea donned on Sabrina.

“Caliban!” she screamed desperately into the night, her voice breaking from the force as she put behind it.

He appeared instantly, the usual vortex of flames escorting him onto the scene. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make a smug retort to Sabrina’s unceremonious summoning, before his eyes fell on you.

“No,” Caliban whispered in disbelief, still frozen on the spot. Blood poured from your abdomen, and the sight of you torn open and half-dead filled him with a sense of gripping terror and worry he had never before experienced. He ran over to you, skidding to a stop on his knees and gently cradling your head in his hands.

“Do something!” Sabrina begged, a sob raking her body. Caliban panicked for a split second, then a solution came to him. It was a last ditch effort kind of plan, but seeing as your eyes had already drifted shut, and your body was growing colder by the second, he knew that he must do something that would absolutely ensure your survival.

“With a desperate heart and no time to waste, I call upon all three Fates!”

In a cloud of smoke, three hooded figures appeared. Each had clouded eyes, long white hair, and greenish-gray, wrinkled skin.

“Fates, I beseech you to save this woman’s life,” Caliban pleaded.

“In exchange for our aid, you must give up the fate you have been pursuing so fiercely.” The Fates spoke in unison, their voices raspy and eerie. “You must cease your pursuit of the throne of Hell, and no longer seek to make Earth the tenth circle.”

“I shall. Here and now, I end my quest to become King of Hell, and remake the Earth as the tenth circle,” Caliban vowed. The lack of hesitation and conviction in his voice astounded each of the Spellman’s, although that was but a minor thought in the back of their minds at the moment. “Just save the woman I love, please.”

The Fates disappeared without another word in another cloud of smoke, at the same moment that a ragged, desperate gasp tore from your lips. The Spellman’s and Caliban all snapped their eyes back down to you. The fatal wound had been healed, and even your clothing was fixed. You sat bolt upright, as if you’d just been necromanced back to life – and, technically, you had. As you looked around at your loved ones, the realization that you were alive and safe sunk in, and you immediately began to cry.

“I saw Dad. I saw him,” you sobbed pitifully, and your family took you into their arms. You despised how weak you sounded, but seeing your father was something you were entirely unprepared for. Caliban rubbed his palm up and down your back, not wanting to interfere with your familial embrace. Still crying into Auntie Zee’s chest, you explained, “I died. I died and Dad was there waiting for me. He hugged me and told me that he was happy to see me, but it wasn’t my time yet.”

It was several minutes before you were able to compose yourself, although you supposed that was somewhat to be expected for someone who had just died then came back to life. After your aunts wiped your tears, you turned around to look at Caliban.

“I know you had something to do with this. We’re all powerless right now, so that is the only explanation,” you whispered. “What did you do?”

Caliban hesitated a moment, so Ambrose answered for him.

“He called upon the Fates. They demanded that he give up the fate he has been pursuing, in order to save you. So, he vowed to give up the throne of Hell, and said it was to save the woman he loves.”

You looked slowly from Ambrose back to Caliban. He appeared slightly perturbed that Ambrose revealed what he’d said in that moment of fear-fueled vulnerability, but didn’t bother to deny it.

“Caliban… is that true?”

“As I’ve told you before: anything for you,” Caliban answered, giving you a soft smile. You threw your arms around his neck, and he immediately wrapped his around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmured, your face buried in his neck. Caliban held you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“And I love you, little dove.”

[kj-1130]

HIRAETH

Chapter 4

Main Masterlist 

     Tremors passed through her hands as she was guided back to her cell.

     They did it again. They poked and prodded at her again as if she was some test subject. She guessed she was, though because at this point, she was wondering if that was the only reason she had been conceived. 

     Karima didn’t know what their goal was. There never seemed to be an actual plan with all the different things they did each day. All she knew is that she wished she never told anyone about the voices. 

    As her body was tossed into the confined space, all of her began to vibrate. It was all just too much; the pain, the noise-- all of it.

     The preteen slowly sank to her knees, pressing her palms against her temples and clenching her eyes closed, willing for the voices to be quiet--willing for a second of silence. 

     It only continued to get louder, her body curling in on itself, overwhelmed from the stimulation. 

     Hands came into contact with her shoulder. But she didn’t flinch like she normally would. Maybe it was because she couldn’t focus with all of the pain. Or maybe because this hand was small, a little warm, and kind of soft compared to the calloused, rough, and cold hands of the guards. 

     She sensed a presence in front of her, but couldn’t bring herself to react. Those oh so soft hands reached up to hers and gently pulled them down. Before Karima could complain, they were replaced and her temples felt the warmth radiating underneath their palms. 

     Her eyes connected with honey-brown orbs that seemed cloudy like hers--but she still found them beautiful. 

     “Does it hurt?” they whispered. 

     The preteen nodded with a trembling lip. 

     She felt a pressure then nothing. 

     There was no headache, no voices; nothing. 

     Glancing around with watery eyes, Karima let out a relieved breath and let a tear fall. 

     The warm hand lifted itself and wiped it off of her skin. 

     “I’m Zhenya.”

-

     Tony clicked the button on the remote, causing a picture to appear. He set his head in his hands and spun back towards the table. 

     “That is thirty-two year old Marcus Weil. He was found dead near an alleyway in Ontario.” 

     Natasha lifted her head from the file she was skimming through. 

     “Cause of death?”

     “Lemme guess; cardiac arrest,” Sam stated. 

     The genius pointed to the man, “Bingo.” 

     It was silent for a few moments while everyone was mulling over the details. Communication was hard between them all--which was to be expected. They did fight each other, after all. 

     “It’s gotta be our girl,” Steve declared, stating the obvious. 

     The former winter soldier was in the chair farthest from everyone, tapping his foot silently on the floor, eyebrows furrowed and his hand near his mouth.  

     “You good, Buck?”

     The brunette lifted his eyes and saw everyone looking at him expectantly. 

     The man let out a sigh and let his arm drop. 

     “I heard her talking to someone one day. Sh-she said…” 

     “It hurt so bad, Zee.” 

     Karima had just gotten back to her ‘room’ where Zhenya was waiting for her. 

     The two had gotten close as the months went by, each leaning on the other for support. 

     The teen’s hands were still shaking. From fear or pain--either did not know. 

     “I-it felt like my heart had stopped. And I kept begging for them to stop. But they didn’t listen,” the girl shakily spoke. Tears were streaming down her face like a river. “They never listen.”

     Zhenya ran her hands through her friend’s hair, trying to cry. She had heard the phrase “weapons do not weep,” one too many times and did not want the one closest to her getting hurt. 

     “It is alright. I am right here, just-just calm down.” 

     The waterworks had eventually slowed to a stop and Karima’s hands had stopped shaking. But only because she had clenched them into fists. 

     “One day... One day I am going to make them feel how they make us feel. I promise you that.” 

     “She said it with so much certainty a-and determination. I wouldn’t be surprised if she held up her promise.”

     As everyone processed the new information, they glanced at each other with uncertainty in their eyes. 

     “So what the hell does that Marcus guy have to do with it?” the falcon asks. “There aren’t any obvious connections to Hydra.”

     “What about that ‘Zee’ person she was talking about? He could be associated with them in some way,” the red-headed spy speaks up after a moment's consideration.

     “I don’t remember anyone by that name,” Bucky speaks.

     “F.R.I.D.A.Y,” the AI’s creator began. “Are there any names that start with ‘Z’ and are connected to Marcus?”

     “Afraid not,” the proper voice announced. 

     “Anybody connected to Marcus?” Wanda asked. 

     Silence washed over the conference room like a wave. Natasha was developing a headache and Tony was worried he was going to get grey hairs.

     “There was someone known as experiment W1498. It says that Marcus was her ‘handler’.”

     “And there’s our connection,” the witch concludes tiredly.

     Everyone was tired; both physically and emotionally. They had been woken up at the ass crack of dawn, being tossed files and told to head to the conference room. And with being superheroes, the emotional exhaustion was quite obvious. 

     But another contributing factor was the tension. No one ever told them how heavy it would be and how tiring it was trying to carry it all. Just a few months ago, they were basically trying to kill each other when the week before the accords, they were all laughing and joking together. 

     They all lost a family before. But then they lost the one they created. And it hurt; it hurt all of them. 

    They might’ve had powers, suits, smarts, and enhanced abilities. But they would never have been strong enough to fight that stack of papers.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hiraeth Taglist

@lizlil @bellero @ravennight41 @yasminwashere

Permanent Taglist

@stillmanicc​ @annestine​

[alecmagnuslwb]

Broken Wings

Read on AO3

“Look I need it to be said that I did not collect any of the things in this room, and the only reason I know about it is cause the guy who is responsible for this room drank a few too many and I happened to be in be in the room and heard,” Ritchie says nervously flitting about in front of the magically protected door. “And then I stole his keys for the hell of it right before he got arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior starting a bar fight, and decided to do the right thing. Keep that in mind the right thing and call you two to do what needs to be done with everything back here.”  

“Ritchie just shut up and open the door,” Zatanna says stern and tired of this. He’s been giving the same sort of spiel since he first turned up at their door promising he was there to do something good and just.

“Right,” he shakes his head tumbling the keys over in his hands. He finds the right one inserting it into the lock and turning. The magic on the door shimmers and falls open, automatically welcoming them in.

Before they’ve even stepped inside, Zatanna and John both can see a cavalcade of things that shouldn’t be here or anywhere else. They step in and break off from one another each taking a side of the long hall the walls lined with trophies, glass cases that have to be stepped around cautiously holding boxes and weaponry.

Zatanna eyes the wall and instantly knows this isn’t like the study in the house of mystery this isn’t a collection of magical artifacts this is a collection of the people who enchanted the artifacts in the first place. A collection of magic snuffed out before it’s time, of magic taken from this earth without remorse or hesitation.

A sword covered in dried blood hangs proudly on the wall a literal spotlight on it. She touches her fingers to a glass case a small box with the tattered claws of a werewolf resting inside, beside them a set of horns clearly ripped from the head of someone harshly and the jagged fangs of a vampire still stuck with tacky gums attached at their base.

Pieces, that’s what everything in this room is. The sick trophies of a serial killer or someone just obsessed with them, obsessed with the death and destruction of people like her and John. People like her friends, her family.

This is a mausoleum without the kindness of good memories encased inside, just the terror of peoples last moments. Of the horrors done to them as they took their last breaths and lived out their final moments in fear.

This place should be burned to the ground.

“Zee,” John says from the other side of the room his voice soft and shocked tearing her away from a jar of preserved eyeballs of varying shapes and shades. She walks over to his side unable to look at the perverse pieces she passes by. Ritchie nervously stands in the middle of it all looking just as shaken by the displays around him even if this isn’t the first time he’s seen it all.

“Yeah?” she says when she reaches him. He gestures a hand upwards and she follows it with her eyes.

There on the wall is the most familiar piece in the room she’s found so far, a piece that belonged to someone she knows. Someone she cares for.

“Are those-” she starts not even finishing the sentence, she already knows the answer anyways she’d recognize those wings anywhere. She doesn’t want it to be true, the ends are bloodstained dry, red and dark brown nearly still dripping from jagged edges that were clearly painfully torn or cut from the body they once were connected to.

“Those are Luci’s I’m sure of it,” John says looking up at the wings sadly.

“Have you heard from him lately?” she asks eyes not able to tear away from the wings she once saw spring beautifully from Lucifer’s back.

John shakes his head. “No, not in a while. You?”

Zatanna shakes her head sadly. She just assumed it was Lucifer as usual disappearing off somewhere to do God knows what, quite literally, hell knows where. She didn’t question his radio silence; it was nothing new.

Now she’s staring up at his tattered and bloodied wings wondering if there was a completely different, far more deadly reason why he hasn’t called in some time. Wondering if these wings she’s seen on display, these wings she’s felt cover her from bullet fire were torn unwillingly from his back and if they were willingly taken what the hell could have led to that.

“We have to track him down as soon as we’ve dealt with this sick fuck,” she says finally looking away from wings. John nods in agreement, he lifts a hand to her lower back in comfort, calming the anger she knows he can see simmering all the way down to her bones.

“Where’d this guy you stole the keys off of end up?” John asks turning to Ritchie.

“Gotham lockup,” he says wringing his hands.

“I can call Bruce, he can pull some strings and make sure this guy doesn’t get loose,” Zatanna says stepping over to another display case wanting to turn it over and send it shattering to the ground. “He’ll need to see this though; he’ll need the proof to make anything stick.”

“Who knows how many of these people he killed,” John says eyes straying back to the wings on the wall that Zatanna is trying to pointedly ignore for now. “And how many he just collected. Either way he’s a fucking monster.”

Monster is putting it lightly. Zatanna wants to burn everything in here, take these horrendous memories and turn them to ash and then maybe give the guy who owns it all the same treatment.

“Which means we can’t light the place on fire yet,” she says angrily.

“Soon,” John says comfortingly placing his hand back on her back. “First we have someone we need to check in on.”

Zatanna nods her head taking one last sad look at the wings before pulling up a portal to take them out of this monstrous place.

[empaethi]

    ─────────────────────     "     why    do    you    look    so    worried ?     “   :    @glmrocks​

❝        sorry .        you    just    look    so    tired    &.    stressed . . .        ❝            a    hand    is    cupping   the    other’s    cheek    ever   so    gently ,    a    lover’s    touch ,    tracing    the    angular    features    coated    in    a    sheen    of    sweat .        he    allows    a    soft    smile    to    creep    as    his    eyes    soften .                [    mon    chéri ,    you    look    so    worried .       your    kind    smile    replaced    by    hardened    features    . .     i    long    to    see    you    smile    again .    ]                he    dares    to    close    the    distance    between    them ,    pepper    his    love’s    face    in    loving    kisses ,    take    SAM’S    hands    in    his    very    own .        fingers    interlocking    &.    feeling    that    they    fit    together    like    two   puzzle    pieces .        ZEE    brushes    a    few    kisses        ─────────         three    to    be    exact    -    on    his    lips ,    softly    &.    sweetly    as    his    voice    is    gentle .                 ❝        i’ve    missed    you .        do    you    want    food    or    a    bath ?        ─────────         here ,    let    me    wash    your    clothes .        ❝

[sege-h]

1, 10, 16 for Cyclone. 5, 13, 20 for Storm. 3, 14, 22 for Ry. 11, 23, 31 for Sharp. And 7+29 for all four.

tHESE ARE LONG SO

Cyclone

1. How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Tbh I don’t know him well enough yet to know if he sleeps peacefully, or be a 100% certain on his position. But he strikes me as someone that sleeps either on his back, or on his side. Tho I do know for sure that his bed is a nice big one, and it’s a mess of pillows and blankets. Some of the covers are soft, akin to silk. It’s just him in his bed but that doesn’t stop him from surrounding himself with pillows, with at least 4 by his head.

 10. How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

He usually treats his injuries and illnesses by himself, unless it’s something pretty serious, then he seeks out a doctor.

 16. If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be? Does this match their favourite food?

Oof this is another one that Idk him well enough for. But I know he likes meat, so probably steak? Well seasoned, maybe with some sauce on it. I think he rarely eats things plain, like JUST a steak with nothing on it.

 7. How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

He’s p new but also I suck at describing voices. I don’t THINK he has an accent? Definitely no voice claim. His voice is…idk. Gravely??? I feel like that’s not the right term. Like Idk gravely but more high pitched??? IDK

 29. If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

I feel like it’d be him tapping his foot and going from grinning to a lil frown.

 Storm:

5. Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

Tbh I feel like Storm’s the kind of person to just leave random garbage on the floor and watch people be like ‘hmm’ at it like it’s modern art. Or he’d put in a bit more effort and crush something metal or a soda can in some weird impossible-ish way and just leave it there.

 13. What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

He’s somewhere in the middle, honestly? He’s usually relatively okay, but is prone to falling ill when it’s cold/flu season around winter, though when he does get sick he rides it out pretty fast.

 20. Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

He doesn’t have anything that embarrasses him as far as things he enjoys go. Though there are things that he’ll keep secret for the sake of the safety of his friends. He won’t reveal that he lives in a big mansion (the fact that it’s a mansion doesn’t matter to him, just that he has a roof over his head), or just how much he enjoys Zee’s company, unless he’s really close to someone.

 7. How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

Storm’s actually one of my few OCs that has a voice claim! Kind of. The voice from Mugen from Samurai Champloo, but a tad more high pitched. He has a southern accent, though he fakes it. Whether it’s convincingly or not depends entirely on how funny it’d be for it to be obvious it’s fake in the moment HSGDHSGDSH

29. If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

He’d play around with his artificial arm by making crackles of electricity.

 Ry:

3. How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

I feel like it’s not easy to annoy him if you’re a stranger, at least as long as you’re trying to annoy him just by jabs at his own person. He’d get more annoyed if jabs aimed at his brother start happening. But otherwise he either brushes off annoyances, or fires back at the people trying to annoy him by trying to annoy them in turn.

 14. Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

Tbh 90% of his look is ‘just for the aesthetic’. There are practical uses in the things he uses, such as things that conduct electricity and/or will amplify the power of his element based hits. But there’s also no practicality in the back of his shoes being able to draw from his power and light up and leave an electric trail behind him. It’s all just shiny zappy aesthetics SHDGSHGD

 22.How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

Unless he’s in some sort of danger where he definitely has to 100% focus on the task at hand and getting out of trouble, he can get pretty bored if what he’s doing isn’t interesting to him. Like he could mess around with the zircon for hours, trying to figure things out about it. But give him, idk, a rubiks cube, and he’ll mess around with it for like 5 minutes before going ‘uGH I cant do it this is boring’ and trying to find something else to do.

 7. How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

Ngl I have 0 idea how to describe his voice and I definitely have no voice claims

29. If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

He’d pause and. Idk how to describe like. Take a stance with his arms on either side of him to make electricity surge over them a few times, kinda like mini lightning crackles.

 Sharp:

11. How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

GOD HE’S SO COMPETITIVE. If you give him ANYTHING and tell him it’s a competition, he HAS to come out on top. Doesn’t matter who he’s up against, especially if you introduce him to it like ‘this is a competition and this other person is SO good at this, I bet they’re better than you at it’ he’ll go fuckin. Feral. SHDGSHDG. He HAS to win and prove that he’s better or at the very least worthy

 23. What is the most annoying sound to your oc? What’s the most pleasant? Is there any reason?

Tones of voice that sound even the littlest bit condescending to him while someone is talking to him HSGDHS He hates being looked down upon, or made to feel like he hasn’t tried his best even though he knows he has. He really really hates the type of talk that makes him feel like the person talking is basically saying they know him better than he does himself.

He loves the sound of rain. He loves rain in general, and if it’s not an outright windy storm, he’ll go out in it. Being out in the rain is connected to him getting to relax and calm down at this point.

 31. What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

The morning is when he’s most tired, and the afternoon is when he’s most awake. His sleep schedule is all over the place when it comes to waking up. Sometimes he gets up in the morning without being prompted to, other times he sleeps in. Winter is when his schedule leans more towars “sleeps in” 90% of the time because he’d rather stay snuggled up in bed than get up.

 7. How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

I ACTUALLY FIGURED THIS OUT RECENTLY AND I HATED HOW IT HAPPENED SHDGSHDGSH

Ok so I had like a clear type of voice for him in my head for months, but no examples of it or ways to describe it. And then a week or so ago there was a video on my dash. You know the purple scientist dude from OK KO? Well evidently he’s voiced by a VA that also voices a character in GTA.

So the video was voice clips from his character in GTA, synced to clips from the dude from OK KO. It had some types of profanities bc ofc it did its GTA, the types that’d normally cause me to stop a video and move along. But I didn’t because the goddamn voice was *perfect* for Sharp. ESPECIALLY how he sounds like when he yells. There’s this one bit where he yells “rrgghHHHH ASSHOLE!!!! EVERYBODY!!!! ASSHOLES!!!!” and it’s goddamn peak Sharp both in the line and in the voice and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. So I just sat there listening to this continuously like ‘wow! I hate when certain things are mentioned but this is Sharp’s voice!!’

 29. If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be? (When the player stays still for too long, the animation that plays.)

God honestly this made me imagine like. You know how in Sonic CD if you leave it for too long, Sonic taps his foot a few times and then when too much time’s passed he just goes ‘I’m outta here!’ and jumps off the screen?

Something like that except instead of occasional foot tapping Sharp’s muttering things like ‘c’mon play the game’. And he progressively gets shoutier like ‘play the game…just…just. PicK UP. THE CONTROLLER!! AND PLAY THE GAME!!!! PLAY THE GAME ALREADY!!!!’ until he finally has enough and lunges at the screen like “juST FUCKIN GO ALREADY GIVE ME THAT CONTROLLER!!!!” shdgHSGDHSGDHS

[jincherie]

a well-oiled machine | i

➛pairing: jungkook x reader ➛genre: android au, futuristic au, prostitute au, fluff, angst, smut (next part) ➛words: 14.3k ➛rating: sfw ➛warnings: none in particular in this part-- some slight drunken behaviour and an android in bad shape! hints at previous abuse ➛notes: for @cinnaminsvga !! happy birthday zee!! i wuv u uwu !! <33 enjoy your roboporn u mecha slutte -- I’m sorry its not completely done!! I’ll do my best to pull the rest out my ass asap!!! <3 <3 <3

Your life takes a bit of a turn when you stumble upon an android in pieces, hidden in an alleyway in an area known for its shadows and debauchery. Taking him home to fix him might have been the best decision you’d ever made, but perhaps there was a little more to the android JK01-97 than you’d initially thought.

→posted; 20.08.2018

→ masterlist | part ii

Through the cool blue and lilac glow that fell from the holographic signs lining the streets, the fat droplets beginning to pelt from the sky and the darkness that began to linger alongside the buildings, a form was just barely visible. Jumbled and disorganised, a mess of metal and synthetic material that had seen better days was propped against a dumpster and the brick wall behind it. Hovering vehicles sped past, women in heels and men in dress shoes strode by, all oblivious to the shape hidden just inside the alley. The droplets that had sprinkled now began to pour from the heavens in earnest, and the form began to grow soaked. Water pooled across the chipped and uneven concrete, dripping and mixing with the deep, burnt violet that trickled slowly from metallic shapes that looked vaguely like limbs, the metal torn and busted, and the flesh-like material spread across it ripped and ruined. As the remaining light of day fled the sky and the distant rumble of brontide pierced the damp air, time began to run out for the form. It had been there for days, untouched by anything but nature, and while the LED light in its eyes had managed to remain, now it had begun to flicker. It was a hopeless night, a hopeless storm growing closer, and the glow of the signs’ light reflecting across the puddles was beginning to overpower the form’s own.

He didn’t have much longer at all.

x   x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

The Red Light District wasn’t a place you enjoyed visiting, nor one you frequented by choice. Rather, it was a necessary evil; just on the other side of the district lay a waste field, ripe with discarded technology and all the parts in the world a simple tinkerer like you could ever want. Normally, someone such as yourself seeking to pilfer the field for parts and goods would be refused entry, but you had the luck of knowing and befriending the owner. Mr Bang was a retired scientist, an inventor of sorts, who’d specialised in AI and had even mentored some of your friends in their studies before he reached an age where he decided it was time to leave the profession. It was, in a way, quite peculiar that he now owned and managed what was essentially a trash yard for discarded technology. From simple things like microwaves and hoverboards to the rare early-age android, He collected them and stored them. The only place he’d managed to find big enough for all his, well, junk had been the warehouse on the other side of the Red Light District. And so, that was where you had to go— actually, it was where you were trying to go right now, if the storm and resulting traffic decided to let up.

Your car was somewhat a relic of an older time, but still technologically advanced enough that it was allowed on the road with other vehicles. You’d grown up being taught to drive by your parents, and secretly longed to be able to drive your own car, but the laws in this day and age were quite clear. On roads that hovercraft and wheeled vehicles shared, only automatic, self-driving units were allowed. Gone were the days when you controlled the speed of your own car, the turns and brakes. It was nice not having to think about all of those things on the journey to your destination, but at the same time you found it gave you too much time to think. While it took more mental capacity, driving in itself was a mindless sort of activity. You liked that it quietened your thoughts, but supposed you’d just have to deal as always with how loud they were for now.

You let out a sigh as you remained in the same position you’d been in for the past few minutes, bumper to bumper with two other cars. In a day and age when crashes on the road were few and far between, you weren’t sure what the hold-up was this time. You supposed it was probably the road itself— the rain had come out of nowhere and with so much in so little time, you didn’t doubt the winding, dipping roads of this area were prone to flooding. Automatic cars were incredible in their seamless ability to drive with much less hazard, but had a flaw in their programming; some, especially older models, were so wired to uphold their passenger’s safety that they sometimes jumped the gun a little bit. In example, what was probably happening a little further up the road was that a car or hovercraft was halted before a stream or pool of water. Its sensors and computer would register danger, and would lock the wheels or engine so that the danger was not intercepted. This was problematic when the water was only a few centimetres deep and easily driven through. There was a function for events like this, that allowed the passenger to commandeer the vehicle for a few minutes and override any automatic inhibitors, but the process of accessing that setting was… tedious. In all honesty, the time it took to activate manual driving was probably what caused this back-up of traffic in the first place, rather than a road being completely flooded. Your car thrummed suddenly, engine revving softly, and you moved forward one whole car space before you halted again. Then, no doubt, the process began once more.

You were getting tired of sitting here, gazing out the window in a district where there were things you likely didn’t want to see. The rhythmic swiping of the windshield wipers could only distract you for so long before you were seeking other entertainment. The storm had momentarily interfered with the local cell towers so you couldn’t even browse the internet, and you weren’t in the mood for any of your games. You liked the mindless kind, the easy ones with a little story and detail to spice them up, but your thoughts were currently too active for something like that. So, sitting and staring out the window it was.

You were wondering if it was better to forgo a visit to the tech yard this time. At this rate you were going to tear your own hair out before you even got to the other side of the district, and you didn’t want to even entertain the thought of what it would be like beyond the blocks of buildings and maintained roads. You shuddered. Perhaps you’d give it a few minutes, and if the traffic didn’t sort itself out by then you’d head on home. It was getting late as it was anyway. Well, six o’clock in the evening wasn’t technically that late, but you’d been up since early running the store and you were eager for the day to end.

It was hard to see through the pelting rain that melted against the glass and did its very best to obscure your vision, but you still managed to catch it as a woman in a short dress and crimson heels scurried past, bag held over her head in meagre protection from the rain— until her foot lost traction on the flooded path and she slipped. You gasped, wincing at the way her knees made contact with the concrete, and were opening the door of your car with an umbrella in hand before you could give it a second thought, ignoring it as your car letting loose a string of warning noises and a soft artificial tone, ‘Miss y/n, please get back in the car. Climbing out of a moving vehicle is a safety hazard.’

Well, your car wasn’t exactly moving but she had the right idea.

You hurried over to the woman, your form instantly growing soaked in the downpour. You managed not to flinch as a flash of lightning greeted your vision and thunder boomed and rumbled above almost instantly after. Ah, the storm was right above you, it would seem.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, speaking louder so she’d be able to hear you over the rain. The woman looked up, surprised that someone had stopped to help. Her eyes were a warm cocoa that matched her auburn locks, gratitude filtering into her irises as you popped open the umbrella above her. “I saw you slip a bit in the puddle.”

The woman winced, adjusting the way she sat so her knees were removed from the rough texture of the pavement; blood seeped from the scrapes marring her tanned skin, diluting in the water pooling along the path. She accepted your hand and wobbled to a stand. You scooped up her bag for her. “A-ah, yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t slip, though. I tripped on that.”

At the last word she gestured loosely, hands then returning and brushing tentatively over the torn skin on her knees. Your gaze followed the movement, surprise filtering through you at the sight of something metallic a few feet away, gleaming in the glow of the holographic sign above you. You squinted through the rain, trying to discern what it was. The urge to investigate tickled under your skin, tugging your sternum, but you forced yourself to remain where you were by the woman.

“Ah,” you murmured, blinking as you returned your attention to the situation at hand. You passed her the umbrella. “Here, you can have this— my car is just over there. Do you need help walking…?”

The woman blushed, shaky hands dusting her soaked dress as though there would be real dust clinging to the fibres in this weather. A little concern budded within you as you caught sight of her skin again and worried that she was beginning to turn a little blue.

“N-no, thank you though,” she held her hands up, and you winced as you caught the scraped skin of her palms. She took the umbrella from you with a sheepish look. “I’ll be ok. Thank you very much for helping.”

“If you’re sure,” you smiled, passing her the bag you’d picked up; she accepted it with a shy grin. “And it’s no problem. Try not to trip again.”

She let loose a giggle and agreed, offering a brief wave before she was off once more, trekking through the rain at a slightly slower pace now that she had an umbrella to stop her getting soaked. You, on the other hand, were now suffering for your generosity. You didn’t mind though— this was the excuse to go straight home that you’d been looking for, and you weren’t one to turn down an opportunity when it was so nicely presented to you.

Although, before you went back to your car…

You checked behind you quickly, and once assured that traffic wasn’t about to move again anytime soon, you dashed forward in the rain to the alley where the item lay that had tripped that poor lady. It grew clearer the closer you got, and it wasn’t long before you were halting in surprise.

A… hand?

Realisation quickly dawned on you as you caught sight of a thick cord attached to the bottom that lead further into the alley. An android— but what was an android doing here with its hand almost completely severed?

In all honesty, there were a number of likely explanations— androids weren’t human, and as such there were many legal… loopholes, with things one could get away with— and your heart hurt at the thought of every one of them. You quickly ducked into the alleyway, now just barely shielded from the rain by the brick wall of the building to your right. The alleyway was illuminated only by the glow of the holographic signs at the edge of the building, a dim blue and violet cast all you had to go off as you crouched and peered at the large lump before you. It took you a moment to take it in.

It appeared to be a male, of unclear make and model. Your heart throbbed in your chest— god, it was in absolute pieces. There wasn’t a single inch of its form that hadn’t been beaten or damaged. The synthetic material covering its outside was ripped and frayed, stained deep plum from the fluid that ran through droids like blood, the metal frame bent and dented and, in some places, even torn. You knew it was just an android, but the thought of anything— anyone going through something like this, no doubt at the hands of their owner, made your heart ache.

Your gaze scanned its form, sadness gathering within you at each new detail you took in— until you halted, surprise catching your breath in your throat. With the amount of damage this android had sustained, you’d thought it would no doubt be, well, dead. But the dim, flickering light you caught glowing behind closed lids ceased those thoughts— he was hanging on, clinging to life against all odds.

The light was weak, just barely there, and you knew that if you left him here he would die. If he had already gone, you might have taken him for parts— it was a better fate than leaving his frame to rust and decay. But now, knowing that he was alive… you had to help him. You tinkered for a living, you fixed things, repaired things— it was a family thing. In your mother’s case, the things she specialised in fixing were androids. And now, knowing that you had the skills, the knowledge, the opportunity to help one— you couldn’t leave it, couldn’t leave him. Your mother wouldn’t have, and you wouldn’t either.

You moved quickly, not wanting the android to have any more exposure than necessary to this atrocious weather. Thunder rumbled above you once more as you shimmied out of your soaked jacket, using it to gather and wrap up the parts of him that were closest to falling off. Some of his limbs might have been hanging dangerously, some panels popped loose, but for the most part everything was still attached in some way— even if it was only by a few wires or cords. You gathered his pieces, jacket wrapped around him to keep them together, and slipped your arms around his form to heave him up with a great huff. He was heavier than you anticipated, much heavier, but you’d be able to make it to your car okay.

You peered over your shoulder, through the rain, and upon confirming your car was still where you left it, you grasped the android tight and hurried over, wary of slipping in the various puddles. In the short time you’d been out of the car, the relentless downpour seemed to have made them grow deeper.

Your car beeped at you, politely requesting you get back inside as you popped the back door open and carefully laid the android’s cold, slack form across the backseat. Once sure he was safely secured, you shut the door and opened your own, diving into the seat and out of the rain, shivering a little. Right, well. That wasn’t how you’d expected this evening to go.

With cold, stiff fingers, you tapped the navigation panel and input your home as a new destination. The car hummed in affirmation, hot air beginning to blast as it read your significantly lowered body temperature. You allowed a smile as the car shifted and scanned the area before the wheels turned and it was performing a u-turn when safe— you were really beginning to appreciate these automatic vehicles a lot more.

x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

Laid across your workbench like this, all of his pieces rearranged to where they should be, you had to acknowledge that the android was handsome.

You’d connected him to a power port to stabilise his system as soon as you’d arrived home, and now you were talking a moment to admire the sight before you. The level of detail and dedication present in his features, in each suture of synthetic skin and weld of metal framing. You were in awe that someone besides yourself, besides your family, had taken such pride and care in their work— it wasn’t common nowadays, when most things were made by machines. Even for an android, it was difficult to emulate the level of attention to detail present in the works of someone who truly loves and enjoys their craft.

The android— model JK01-97, as you’d seen from the inked code on the inside of the wrist that was still attached to his arm— was almost a work of art. The skin, while you knew it was synthetic, felt real to the touch, and the hair shone beneath your work light with all the radiance of authentic, healthy locks found on humans. The line of thick lashes that crossed and clumped lightly, the sculpt of the brows and face— it was the kind of complete beauty that couldn’t be found in factory perfect androids, modelled after the impossibly image of beauty humans always strived for. His lips were uneven in their fullness, cupid’s bow pronounced, and his skin— the parts that weren’t damaged— was a lovely golden and had the occasional cute freckle decorating it.

It hadn’t been long since you’d arrived home with the android, and as a result you hadn’t had the time to really do anything yet. Your gaze swept over his form, the ripped clothing over his legs and his bare feet. Only pants… had his other clothes been so badly damaged they’d just fallen away? And his collar… most androids had collars with tracking chips in them so that their owner could find them in the event they were ever stolen, but this one… his throat was bare, though there was a slight discolouration on the skin that showed where the collar had been. You let out a sigh, the sight confirming what you’d thought all along; it had been his owner that did this to him— took the chip, beat him and then discarded him like nothing more than a cheap toy. You frowned, hand lifting from your side.

“I’m so sorry they did this to you, JK,” you said softly, brushing the soft raven strands from his forehead. The synthetic skin was stained plum where it was busted open, the android equivalent of blood having seeped out of the lesion. The informal name was Violet Blood, since that was essentially what it was, but it was more technically known as AMF— Android Maintenance Fluid. Not the flashiest name, but it did its job.

You watched as the thin ring that usually ran around the outer edge of an android’s irises glowed dim, deep blue beneath his eyelids. That colour indicated that he was currently in a state similar to very, very deep sleep, or really something more like a coma. It was a state their systems initiated when circumstances were unideal and the need to survive overran the need for more or less ‘conscious’ control. It was as though they went into standby, hibernated, until conditions were ideal once more. This meant when the stressors were gone, and the body was in optimal condition for operation again.

So, for this android— JK, as you’d begun calling him from his model number— to wake up, you needed to fix his body up. His frame, his skin, his wiring and circuitry were all you’d noted to be damaged so far, and you hadn’t even gotten to run scans on his programming and system state yet… you certainly had your work cut out for you. Could you really do it? You’d never fixed an android by yourself before...

Your gaze flicked up, to the right corner of your desk where a holographic picture frame sat. At the sight of your mother in movement, glaring playfully at the camera with the corner of her lips betraying her expression and twitching into a smile before she grinned brightly and waved, you returned your gaze to the figure laying prone before you with a renewed sense of determination. You could do it; it might take some time, and some patience, and probably a fair bit of money, but you could do it.

You adjusted the strands that fell over his forehead, brushing off a speck of dust from his cheek.

“I'll do my best to fix you, JK,” you vowed, tone conveying how serious you were. “I promise.”

And do your best, you did.

x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

First, you decided, was the frame.

The android’s metal framing was, in a word, wrecked. It was dented, wrangled, and had taken more abuse than you’d thought possible. Considering it was so deep inside of his form, covered by layers of wires and cushioning materials, it was somewhat hard to gain the access you needed to fix it as best as you could. You had to carefully strip back synthetic skin and the harder casing beneath, part the wires and cords that acted as makeshift tendons and ligaments. The only experience you had in this area was when you’d accepted a job to repair some animatronics for an old restaurant franchise that extended from a brand of cinemas. It was similar in essence, but in details… there were more differences than you could count.

It was an activity that required a lot of time and a lot of patience, since you didn’t want to damage any part of him more than it already had been. The fact that you put such care into sorting out the frame, fixing kinks and welding the parts that had torn back together, meant that it took much longer than you originally thought. In amongst your daily tasks and jobs that came from running a second-hand goods and repair store, it took you over a week to completely adjust his frame. But once you were done, at no extra cost to the android, you were excited— the frame was more or less like the bones. Now that you had stable grounds to work on, you could get to the other areas.

As you’d gone along, you’d cleaned the android’s form wherever you were working. But now, as you settled before him once more with the bright warmth of a Saturday morning sun cast across your side, you decided he deserved to be cleaned properly before you continued to the next stage.

“God…” you winced as you brought the damp cloth across his forehead, wiping away the plum and lilac stains that marred his skin. His AMF levels had dropped enough that he’d stopped ‘bleeding’, but the sight of it still wasn’t entirely pleasant. “How could someone do this to you…?”

You couldn’t fathom how someone could expend all the money it required to purchase an android, and then treat it so poorly. It baffled you, but also angered you— with how advanced they had become in recent years, you grew more and more uncomfortable with the fact they were treated with such disregard. At this point, models were in production that could emulate a similar version of the care a parent felt for their child— nanny bots, of course. How long before they went too far in their endeavours and their creations were too human to fit into the box society had created for them?

For some reason, you found yourself talking to the android, JK, more often than you talked to yourself. You thought that perhaps it was the fact he looked so real, so human, that the idea of having company even if it was currently somewhat comatose was better than having no company at all, as it usually was. You weren’t always lonely, per se, but some days you certainly felt it more than others. It was just the way things were, you supposed.

“I’ll have to ask Seokjin if he has a manual for you,” you hummed as you went, talking to both yourself and him. The dark blue LED blinked behind his eyelid. You brought the cloth to his skin over and over, removing the unsightly, crusted stains. AMF was oilier than human blood, had a bit of a sheen, but it came easily off his skin. “I think I know what parts you’ll need, there’s a few that need replacing and some are missing, but I think it would be better to check. You seem… like a special model.”

You tilted your head as you stepped back to dip the cloth in the bucket beside you and wring it out; the water was dyed purple from the fluid that had gathered on the rag, colour dripping from your clenched fist. You allowed one hand to hold it, letting it drip dry for a second, and used your other to run your fingers softly over the planes of his face, almost with a sense of reverence.

“The amount of detail and care in your make… It’s really incredible, JK,” you told him, catching sight of a smudge you’d missed and wringing the rest of the soapy water out of the rag. You dabbed the mark away, resuming your task of cleaning the stains from his form as you spoke. “I really hope I can restore you. You seem like a really advanced android— and you’re almost a work of art, you know. I wonder who made you…”

There were a few companies that made androids, but they were all essentially owned by the same people. Each company hired different scientists, different employees, and tailored to different areas. In your whole life, though, you’d never seen an android, living or dead, as advanced or as detailed as JK. The desire to know what he was designed for, and who made him, burned deeply within you.

Seokjin, someone you’d known a long time, was one of the friends that had studied under Mr Bang. You could never quite remember which company he worked for— didn’t even know if he was allowed to tell you, technically. Not that that had ever stopped him running his mouth— but you knew he was excellent at his job and had a real passion for creating the AI, modelling their bodies and bringing them to life. He had a team that worked with him, some also your friends and a few you didn’t know, but he was usually the head of the projects. You would have to ask Seokjin about a manual, so you could look at the right parts, and if you couldn’t get one through him you’d probably have to hit up Mr Bang. You didn’t doubt he had a fair few collected and lying around from his years in the profession and time spent collecting junk.

“Ok, you’re all clean now and as handsome as ever,” you muttered to the android lying prone and asleep across your workspace, feeling very much like you were talking to a child who couldn’t yet respond back. “Now, I need to get your parts… and for that I need a manual. I can’t hook up your wires without all your pieces back inside you.”

This halted your little project for a few days, along with the fact you received a sudden influx of orders for repairs and fixes that came in through your shop. It wasn’t that hard, running a store on your own, but it was times like these where you had things going on in the background that you really felt it the most. It was only a mild inconvenience, but you were nonetheless glad when you finally managed to get your hands on a manual for JK.

It had been surprisingly hard to find one, and Mr Bang had been the one to help you; Seokjin was currently wrapped up in a big project and you hadn’t been able to get a hold of him. You’d both scoured long and hard, and you didn’t understand why it was so hard to find a manual for JK when there was a plethora of manuals available for all other makes and models— that is, you didn’t understand until you actually read JK’s manual. It was somewhat in pieces, sections missing, but enough was there for you to get most of the information you needed; it was the only one you were able to find, so you’d have to make do.

JK01-97, was part of a special line of androids and, essentially, one of a kind. While not the only one in the JK line, he was the only one of his specific make and model. You’d heard a bit about this line from Seokjin, an extension of the J branch, how each model was the only one in the world to look like that and have that specific personality. It explained the level of detail, commitment and care that you saw in him— he wasn’t just one of a hundred or more, he was the only one of his model to ever be made. His creator took pride in him, and knowing that just saddened you even more at the fact that whoever bought him had then treated him with such disregard and trashed him to such a degree. He deserved better.

Once you had the manual, you were able to begin ordering parts. There were chapters of the manual missing, pages and pages, but all the sections on mechanical components were present and that was good enough for you. Unfortunately, one of the missing sections was the one that covered functioning and purpose, so you still didn’t know exactly what JK had been made for. You supposed you’d find out once he was awake, given you managed to actually fix him.

You ordered the parts you needed, and one by one they began to arrive, with the occasional, expected delay. It took around two weeks for all of the parts to arrive; already this project was beginning to take longer than you usually spent, but you could tell in the end it would be worth it. In the meantime you worked on other things, small devices— the occasional holoframe, phones, a busted coffee machine, even. Your days weren’t overloaded but you were kept busy, and your account was kept full. You did your best to monitor the android in between jobs, making sure his condition didn’t worsen somehow. It was unlikely, but you’d rather be on the safe side.

As soon as you had all the parts, the android JK became your number one priority once more. Since you’d fixed his frame first and gotten the manual, you now had a stable guideline for where you were placing what. Androids were incredibly complex creations, you knew this, but JK… he was something else. You began to notice now as you worked that after you’d cleaned his synthetic skin, it began trying to fuse back together on its own. It was fascinating, the way you watched a small cut draw closed seamlessly, fibres reaching for the other side and binding as soon as they made contact. The way it smoothed over, like there’d never been a cut in the first place, reminded you oddly of the way kinetic sand would move and mould itself back together.

Bolts, screws, little pieces of technology that might have been hard to get a hold of if you didn’t have the contacts you did; bit by bit you put JK’s insides back together. He was missing a few important parts, but most of it was just the odd bolt, gear or wire. His computer system seemed to be intact, but you wouldn’t know for sure if anything was damaged until you hooked him up and ran some scans. That would be the last part of the process, though. You had a little while to go before you were at that point.

You were prone to humming as you worked, singing if you found yourself in a good enough mood, and it was no different as you worked on JK. Compared to the wait time for the parts, it didn’t take long at all for you to put them back where they belonged and fix them in place. You were done in just over a week, to your pleasant surprise. You were excited to move onto the next part— fixing his wires and circuitry was probably the part of the whole process that came easiest to you, after all. Most of the devices you tinkered with on the daily had wiring and you’d come to be pretty well versed in the reparation of items that relied heavily on it.

Idly, as you completed your last task to do with the repair of his parts, you thought that were your mother here to see your work, she’d probably be proud. The thought brought a slight mist to your eye, and your gaze was side-tracked to the holoframe on your workbench before you blinked it back and returned your attention back to JK’s abdomen. Right, things to do. You could get sentimental another time.

His body had been sculpted in a way that was very visually appealing, and while you could appreciate it, you had to wonder what purpose it served. Usually androids were only built with features that directly served the purpose for which they had been made. But, you supposed, the creator of this android had really just gone above and beyond in each and every aspect, you wouldn’t be surprised if there hadn’t been any real reason for it. It happened like that, sometimes. Art was prone to taking on a mind of its own when its creator was immersed and in love with their craft.

Wherever there had been dents or lacerations across his body, you’d attended to the wires that had been damaged as a result, starting on the peripheral and moving inwards. This, while it came easier to you, was still a painstakingly slow process; and while juggling this project with your own work and the shop, it ended up taking several weeks to work your way over the entirety of his body. You tried to do a little every day, but some days you were just too tired, too exhausted, to give the amount of attention and focus needed for the job. You always made up for lost time though, the next day more often than not consisting largely of working on JK. Now you were on the final area, a panel hidden in his abdomen that had been dented inwards and was unable to seal back as the rest of his form did, and were going over the clusters of wires and connections. You’d slipped on a pair of spectacles that magnified your vision and helped you focus, and had spent the better part of a week on this section alone.

Each bundle was grouped specifically and with purpose, and you had to be careful that they weren’t separated or lost from their group. The wires might have been colour coordinated, but that was only in regard to the sections they’d been sorted into; this meant there were double-ups on colours and it would be very difficult to sort one from the other should they get confused. Hence, the amount of time you’d spent here, carefully sorting and repairing wires and circuitry as needed. Your effort and patience paid off, however, and eventually you were finishing, popping the dent out of the panel and watching with fascination as you set it in place and the skin fused as you’d seen it do before, his abdomen soon showing no sign that the panel even existed.

You smiled, proud of how much progress you’d made so far as you gazed upon his form before you. You’d spent the a little over two months altogether working on this android, doing your very best to repair him, and very soon you would be done— it was something you could hardly believe. You were excited, anxious to see if the time and toil you’d poured into fixing this robot had paid off. A gaze to the side where the window sat told you perhaps you’d pushed it a little too close this time, the barest hints of the morning sun beginning to peek across the horizon outside. You let out a sheepish chuckle.

“Whoops,” you murmured, fighting a yawn. “Got a bit too carried away, I suppose. I better sleep— the shop isn’t going to run itself tomorrow, after all. Although, before I go to bed…”

You hummed in thought, allowing your hand to rest gently on his shoulder, finger tapping softly against the skin. As expected, he didn’t stir, remaining motionless on the table. The only thing left to do was run scans and do a full sweep of his system to see what had been affected and what would need to be repaired. Androids had a self-repair function for their programs and processing systems, but if the damage was bad enough there was the possibility you’d need to step in and repair what you could so that it could kick in and take over. Most of the damage he’d taken seemed to be external— you hadn’t had to fix the wiring as much as you had the frame, although both had been in a poor condition in their own ways.

With the technology at your disposal, it wouldn’t take long to perform the initial scan, and it would be good to know what you were working with. So, without much resistance on your end, you decided to perform it now, before you went to bed.

“I think I’ll do the scan now,” you voiced your thoughts aloud, for the android’s sake if nothing else. You didn’t think he could hear you, he was essentially comatose after all, but it felt… right, although you weren’t sure why. “We’re so close to being done, JK. I hope I’ve done enough.”

You hummed a half-hearted tune as you lifted his arm, taking his wrist into your grasp and pressing right where the vein would be in a human. There was a soft pop and shick! as a tiny panel, about the size of your thumbnail, revealed itself before your eyes, lifting vertically before it slid back over the skin of his forearm. You’d hooked JK up to a power source as soon as you arrived home with him so many months ago, but to scan his systems you’d need a different sort of connection. Holding his wrist in one hand, you used the other to fish amongst your tools for the cord you needed.

You let out a soft, victorious noise as you found it, quickly taking it into your grasp and pushing the thin needle into the receiving jack in the android’s wrist. You tapped your tablet, the screen lighting immediately, and slid your finger over the scan button. Immediately, there was a sudden hum and warmth washed down the android’s arm; you watched in awe as a faint purple, rosy hue lit beneath his skin in a pattern so pretty it could almost rival the stars. The LED beneath his eyelids flickered beneath deep blue and rosy violet. The screen of your tablet flashed, telling you that it was beginning the holistic system scan.

It didn’t take long at all for it to complete, thankfully (you might have wanted to continue working, but even you couldn’t deny how exhausted you were), and soon you were sitting, looking upon its results with an expression of concentration. Your teeth found your lip as you swiped through the report, taking in the information rapidly. Most of his systems were intact, if a bit damaged, but one in particular had been severely compromised. A shard of sadness wedged itself into your heart— his memory centres had taken a blow, and while you didn’t know what specifically he had lost or exactly how much, you knew from the scan that it was a lot of data. You felt terrible, despite the fact you knew it more than likely wasn’t a result of your fiddling but of the initial abuse he’d suffered.

Even in your tired state, your fingers managed to fly across the screen with ease. You breezed through his other results, before coming back to the ones that were affected. The others would be able to self-repair; the memory centres would be able to as well, but before you even attempted to task his system with that you’d need to do a bit of work. There was significant data loss, most of which you had no idea how to fix or retrieve, but there were some pathways you could reconnect manually on your own. You did your best with this for a while, finally stopping when your eyes blurred and sunlight began to peek through the window, unable to continue even if you wanted to.

You’d done what you could, now the rest of it was up to him. You stood, stretching your tight, tired limbs and letting loose a loud yawn. It was finally time for bed, but before you went…

“I’m going to go now,” you murmured to the android, reaching for your tablet and tapping across the screen— JK’s systems processed the command for a moment before they initiated self-repair as you’d told them. Purple glowed beneath his skin once more, and you let another soft smile slide across your face. “I’ve done what I can… I hope it’s enough. It’s up to you now, bud. I think you can do it— you hung on in that alley for lord knows how long, you can do this.”

You swallowed, feeling oddly emotional as you gazed upon his form. You didn’t have the words to put to the feeling currently making your eyes water and heart squeeze, and didn’t bother attempting to analyse it right now. You’d worked so hard, he’d worked so hard by clinging to life in that alley for so long before you found him— the fact that there was a possibility he still wouldn’t wake up was almost inconceivable to you. You bit your lip, brushing the hair from his forehead tenderly before, after a moment’s deliberation, you bent and pressed a soft kiss to the skin.

“Sleep well, JK,” you said softly, gazing upon the strong planes of his face with a fondness you hadn’t known you possessed for him— he was an android, but you’d spent the better part of two months tending to his every need and wound, repairing him, fixing him, healing him… it was hard not to grow attached in that time. “I look forward to meeting you whenever you wake up.”

With that you stood and allowed your body to stretch once more, before you began to shuffle out. You hit the light on the way out, the dim glow beneath JK’s skin the only thing illuminating the room now save for the trickling sunlight beginning to peek through the window. You cast one more look his way, chest stirring, before you exited your workroom and allowed the door to close behind you. The trip to your bedroom was spent in a tired daze, and you slipped into your comfiest pair of pyjamas before flopping onto your bed and wriggling comfortably beneath the covers.

You were out the second your head hit the pillow.

Your sleep was deep, and wholesome, and when you woke it wasn’t exactly with full coherency. You yawned, registering the deep sunlight streaming from your window, between the blinds you’d forgotten to close, and the warmth you were encased in as a result. It was just shy of toasty, and you were tempted to stay where you were before your stomach gave a loud, undeniable protest and you were slipping from the bed reluctantly. You tried to remember what you had in your cupboard— you’d been so wrapped up in your work these past weeks you’d forgone a few grocery trips and social outings. You were sure to be feeling the results when you made it to the kitchen—

Hold on.

You halted in your hallway, head tilting as you strained your ears. The slightest, softest shuffling could be heard, gentle cluttering of cutlery against a hard surface— there was someone in your kitchen? You were too tired for the alarm to really sink in, but you were definitely more awake as you continued down the hall quietly, peering around the doorway once you reached the room in question. Your mind ceased for a moment as your gaze fell upon the source of the noise and a gasp fell from your lips, but you didn’t have any longer than that to process it.

The figure in your kitchen turned around, apparently having heard your soft intake of breath, and upon catching sight of you standing in the doorway a bright smile lit across their face.

“Creator!” it was a strikingly familiar male, but the contrast between how you were used to seeing him, across your workbench, to how you were seeing him now, upright and rushing towards you, gave you whiplash. You didn’t have time to prepare as the android you’d been repairing for months, who was now apparently awake, came careening across the kitchen space and into you, his arms wrapping around your form tightly and holding you close.

You let out a soft ‘eep!’ as he buried his face in your neck, swaying you in the hug— he was an android, what was he doing? He was hugging you, like— like he was feeling overwhelmed with joy, or— or emotion. That wasn’t… that shouldn’t be possible!

Your body acted out of habit and muscle memory more than anything as your arms came up to embrace him back, thoughts whirring as you tried to comprehend the current situation. “...JK?”

The android pulled back, a sheepish smile tugging his lips as he released you— your heart fluttered at the detail his creator had put into his face now that you got to see it in action. The wrinkle of his eyes as his whole face smiled, cheeks lifting and bunny teeth peeking from behind his lips. God, his eyes shone, LED around his iris glowing soft lilac. That light was the only thing that betrayed the fact this man was not human.

“You’re awake, creator,” the was such glee in his tone, something in your chest clenched. He shouldn’t be so— so emotive! This… you’d never seen anything like this. It was like you were talking and interacting with a real human; it felt surreal. “I was waiting for you.”

“I’m not your creator,” you murmured, eyes wide as they swept over his form. Everything seemed to be running fine, normal, but… was this normal? In this world and society, no. But was this normal for him? Had he always been like this? Were these detailed emulations, or had something in his programming mutated to allow him to feel genuine emotions? Your mind was reeling.

JK’s head tilted, dark doe eyes holding your own as the ring around his iris ran soft blue. “No, you’re not,” he admitted, appearing for the first time to act like you knew androids to act. “But you are the one that fixed me. You made me anew.”

Your mouth parted; you didn’t have a response to that. The android was quick to read your expression and attempt to decipher it.

“But… if you do not wish to be called that,” he began, a tentative note in his voice, “What shall I call you? Owner? Mistress?”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment causing you to stumble over your words slightly. “My name is fine— you can call me y/n.”

“y/n,” the android echoed, as though testing how it rolled from his tongue and lips. A bright smile suddenly split his lips and your heart nearly faltered at the sight of it alone. “Thank you, y/n, for fixing me.”

And with that the android took you into his arms once more, and you were left just as confused and baffled as before.

What the hell did you do now?

x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

In the two days since JK had risen from his comatose state, you’d learnt a lot— both about him, and in general.

You’d wanted to run another scan to see how his systems were doing, but he’d grown sheepish and assured you that he was already running scans and his damaged systems were in the process of self-repairing. You’d asked about his memories, and with a somewhat indecipherable look he informed you that while he had some, he had lost a majority of them. He couldn’t remember where or what he did before you found him, couldn’t remember his owner or creator. He hadn’t had a name before you found him, but you had a feeling that if he did he wouldn’t remember that either.

Everything you’d expected to experience when your project woke up had been promptly thrown out the window the second you’d found him in your kitchen two days ago. It was very apparent from the get-go that JK was unlike any other android you’d ever seen or even heard of. Aside from those first few hours, the android hadn’t displayed any other intense bouts of emotion, but there was a quality about him that led you to believe he was still feeling. Soft smiles that didn’t feel programmed, but that reached his eyes— the way those eyes would light upon seeing you, and the LED would flicker summer orange. There were little details in his speech and movement, and honestly you were still reeling. Had he been made this way? Was he the greatest achievement to-date in technological advancement? Or had he been made like any other android, and his software, his programming, had mutated? The possibilities were endless, and you didn’t know where to begin looking to find the answer.

One thing you noticed, in particular, was that JK was surprisingly clingy. There was hardly a minute that went by without him by your side or doing something for you around your house. He was very helpful, and it was all of his own volition; not once had you told him to clean— quite the opposite, really— but he’d taken it upon himself to do it anyway. You’d asked him about it on the second day of walking into the kitchen to catch him doing your dishes, and he’d offered you a soft smile, the ring around his eyes glowing warm lilac.

“You have been kind to me,” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Kinder than most people. I want to pay you back some way, even though this isn’t much...”

You’d had to leave before he picked up the increase in your heart rate and the flustered flush across your cheeks, a hurried ‘thanks’ thrown his way. He’d happily returned to his task, unbothered by your sudden departure aside from a slight furrow in his brow to indicate confusion.

Your third day with the android you’d saved from the street, and you were beginning to get used to having him around. Once you got past the initial display of emotion that had thrown you so, you noticed a lot more robotic tendencies that he had. He was still a machine, an android, but with each flash of emotion across his face you began to play with the idea that perhaps, realistically, he wasn’t too far from human after all. With so much going on in your head, so many thoughts struggling to make themselves known, you hadn’t really gotten to sit down and spend some time with your new housemate. It saddened you a bit; you wanted to know a bit more about him, wanted to talk to him. Ever since he’d woken your interest had been piqued and you wanted to learn everything there was to know about your android.

It was cool afternoon when you finally succumbed to the urge that had been calling beneath your skin the past few days. After a moment of deliberation, you halted your current activity, dropping the tools from your hands and listening as they made soft clinking noises upon impact with your workbench. JK, who had been standing behind you ramrod straight as he gazed over your shop and the shelves upon shelves of trinkets and devices, jumped at the sudden noise. His head whipped around just in time to see you turning, removing the plastic gloves you sometimes wore to protect your hands from oil. A trace of surprise registered across his features, the ring around his iris running green as he processed your current actions.

“You are finished?” he queried, peering over your shoulder before his brows furrowed, eyes returning to your own. “But the phone is not fixed… it is odd for you to take a break so early into the project. Is something the matter?”

You tried not to show how flustered you were that he knew your habits so well after only three days with him. “It’s not, but I’ll come back to it later. Nothing is wrong.”

You offered a smile, “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

The android seemed taken aback, mouth falling open. “With me?” he echoed, brows drawn together. “But why?”

“Because I find you interesting,” you answered easily, reclining in your work chair while trying not to let it spin. “And I want to know more about you. You’re not like many androids I’ve seen, JK.”

The android shuffled, and you wondered if he was possibly feeling discomfort of some sort. You’d seen him display some emotions— were they limited? Could he only feel a set amount?

“JK,” he echoed once more, gaze averting before it returned to your face, somewhat bashful. “I remember you calling me that while you worked on me. Why?”

You were surprised at his words, your eyes widening a little. “I didn’t know if you had a name, and I didn’t want to just call you android. It felt rude. I took it from your model number, see?”

You reached for his wrist, turning it so he registered the numbers there. He made a soft sound of understanding. You spoke again, though, curious about something he’d said, “Did you say you could hear me while I worked on you, while you were unconscious?”

The android hummed, nodding. “Yes. It wasn’t a constant stream, but I remember hearing some things…” he paused suddenly, stammering a little. You could have sworn his cheeks tinted pink. “In particular… I really liked your singing.”

Heat washed over your face at once, embarrassment making you want to shrivel and die. Oh, you’d forgotten you’d done that while you worked.

“...Thank you,” you managed to squeeze out amongst your urge to throw yourself from the nearest building. The android smiled, and your head tilted as you voiced your previous thoughts, “Why did you ask about being called JK? Do you not like it? If not, I can stop.”

“No!” the android burst, barely a moment after the words left your mouth. He looked alarmed, eyes wide and LED flaring yellow. “I- I like it... I’ve not… had a name before. Please, do not feel as though you have to stop.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that tugged your lips, “That’s sweet of you,” you said, watching his LED shift from yellow to sunset pink at the barest hint of praise you offered. “But it’s still a bit awkward for your first ever name… how about we compromise.”

JK tilted his head, curious as to what you were going to propose. You reached for your tablet, turning in your chair slightly; you could have sworn you felt his gaze burning along your waist, but dismissed it as paranoia. Returning to a normal sitting position, you beckoned the android closer and he was eager to comply with your wishes.

Your fingers tapped quickly across the thin, crystal clear display, and soon the page you desired was up before your eyes. You watched as the male’s gaze swept across the screen before darting to you, surprise filtering across his features.

“... Names?” he appeared as though he was trying to fight the smile tugging his lips, but it was a losing battle. His bunny teeth sank into the soft, plush skin of his bottom lip. “You are giving me a real name?”

You nodded, unable to help your own smile as he beamed in response. “Yep, but you can choose your own— choose whichever you like! I think since we started with JK, names starting with J will suit you.”

JK’s cheeks appeared to colour, his eyes eagerly finding their way back to the screen, rings soft lime. It took him only a moment to scan through the list you’d pulled up, hand lifting as he pointed to a section. “I like these.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, looking over the ones he’d chosen. The fact he’d pointed out more than one meant he probably wanted you to have at least some say in his name, and the thought warmed your heart thoroughly. “Oh, I think those would really suit you. I think… Jungkook? Oh, wait, actually I think the other version would suit you better…”

The android was looking at you with wide eyes as you turned to him, analysing his appearance for a moment before smiling. “Yeah, I think Jeongguk suits you better. What do you think?”

“I love it,” he beamed, and it was as though you could feel the warmth, the elation, just from looking at it. “Thank you, mistress.”

You squeaked, cheeks flushing hotly as you bopped his arm gently. “J— I told you to call me y/n!”

The android laughed, stepping back and resuming his previous position peering over your shoulder. The barest hint of mischief gleamed in eyes that flickered between lilac and pink, and it was with flushed cheeks and a flustered disposition that you returned to your current project. He was awfully cheeky for a machine.

Your mother would have loved him.

x     x     x     x     x    x     x     x   x

Jeongguk was more helpful and eager to please than you knew how to handle.

As he’d done ever since he’d awoken from his place laid across your workbench, he continued helping out however he could. Your laundry, your dishes— hell, sometimes he even manned the shop while you were gone. He was good with his hands, and you might have called him a natural tinkerer were he not an android and engineered to be perfect at human activities. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to do these things— it made you uncomfortable to think he was doing it because it was learnt, or because he thought you’d expected it. He’d assured you many times, though, that he did it because he wanted to; he enjoyed doing things for you.

You felt silly, but with each little favour he did for you and each small smile he shot your way, you grew a little fonder of him. More than once you’d come downstairs to find he’d already gone ahead and made you breakfast and a coffee— more than once you’d sworn to yourself you could have planted a big, fat kiss on his cheek out of sheer gratitude alone. You didn’t know how to articulate let alone process the feeling you got from having someone around like this, having someone look after you. You had friends, but no family you were still in contact with, and the friends you did have had lives of their own. It had been almost a month since you’d even seen Seokjin, despite your more frequent correspondence via instant messaging. Ever since your mother had passed, and you’d been left to your own devices with a shop to run and a small home to occupy, there had been a silently harrowing sense of loneliness that threatened to creep into your heart each time you lay your head onto your pillow and closed your eyes. In the silence and emptiness of your home, it was very easy to lose yourself to that feeling when it came knocking.

But with Jeongguk here with you, things were… surprisingly different. It was the good kind of surprise, the pleasant kind of surprise, and you thought that it was probably part of why you liked him so much. As days passed and time went on, you realised that you really did like him; you’d grown fond of him, attached, and not to the idea of him as a project, but as a person.

“You’re so helpful, Jeongguk,” you smiled, cheek resting on your palm; you made sure to address him by his new name whenever you could, because the resulting ecstatic smile that broke across his face was a sight you never wanted to miss. You were in the kitchen, watching as the android carried your drink to the table as he’d insisted vehemently he do. “Are you sure you weren’t a butler before I found you?”

A bright grin had split his face and your heart had stuttered in your chest— you could have sworn he had blushed. Were it not for the glowing pink ring around his iris, you might have forgotten he was an artificial being altogether.  Jeongguk had laughed softly, and simply reminded you to message one of your customers about their order like you’d told him to.

You hurriedly dove into your phone, thumb flicking screens away until you reached the right one— the archive of all your messages. Your fingers were a little too fast for your brain and overstepped, leading you to land in your chat with Seokjin instead of the customer, and in your scramble to escape you ended up jumping to a point in the chat from months back.

‘—I can’t wait for you to see my project! He’s the only one of his kind that will ever exist, and I really think I’ve cracked it this time y/n—’

You blinked, thumb having automatically clicked you out of the chat before you could continue reading. You’d completely forgotten about the conversations you used to have about Seokjin’s big project— you wondered whatever came of it. Seokjin just suddenly stopped talking about it. It was around the same time as a particularly stressful period for your shop, and you regretted that you weren’t there more for him to ask what had happened.

Bringing your thoughts back to the present, you opened the right chatroom this time and messaged the customer as you meant to. You were glad Jeongguk had remembered, because you’d certainly forgotten.

Sadly, Jeongguk’s memory centres still hadn’t recovered and he was only able to remember things from after when you found him, and he woke up. His other systems were performing closer to normal, but his memories… had been the most affected by the damage. He still had no recollection of what he’d been doing before he ended up in the alley, who his owner was or even what he was designed to do. Hearing the same negative response each time you asked him made your heart hurt, but at the same time you were kind of relieved; whatever had happened before you found him clearly hadn’t been good, and you didn’t doubt it wouldn’t be something fun to remember. Perhaps, for now, he was better off in the dark.

Having said that, you did notice some… quirks, in his behaviour, that had begun to make themselves known more as time went on.

The first had become apparent not long after Jeongguk had received his name. In the time after that incident, you’d witnessed the android become even clingier, if possible. He was always by your side before, but now as he walked with you to complete errands and even in your home, his hands would reach to brush against your arm, your waist. He stood very close, always with a contented look like he couldn’t be happier if he tried, your presence alone enough to soothe him.

Even if Jeongguk hadn’t already appeared and acted as human as he did, you would have ended up treating him as a human out of habit nonetheless. Which was why you found yourself nestled into the corner of the couch, Jeongguk occupying the other, preparing to settle down for a long, long movie marathon with the Marvel superhero series. They were old, and you recalled that they were onto their — was it their 47th instalment, these days? The first of the movies had been made decades ago, and many didn’t watch them— they preferred the spiffy, more technologically advanced remakes— but you’d always enjoyed the classic films from a time before yours.

You’d sat down with the intention of introducing Jeongguk to the series, figuring that if he was an android that could feel emotions then he’d likely end up enjoying movies more than the average robot. You started with the chronological order of release date, and went from there; Jeongguk started on the other end of the couch, and then throughout movie after movie he had gradually shuffled close enough that he was curled comfortably into your side. Android’s couldn’t feel the cold the way humans could, but they could shiver, and the hue of their skin could alter. It was something included in their design for a more realistic effect, and despite the fact you knew this, you’d still draped the blanket over the both of you and allowed him to snuggle closer.

Analysis of Jeongguk’s systems, make and model told you that he had advanced, detailed sensors across the expanse of his body— so when you lifted your hand to begin carding your fingers through his silken hair and scratching lightly against his scalp, you knew the soft, pleased sigh he let out was genuine. You could feel yourself melting against him, heart fluttering out of nothing but sheer, light happiness as each time Iron Man came onto the screen, Jeongguk let out a soft noise to cheer. He had a favourite, clearly.

Sometime throughout the next few movies, which you’d had brief breaks between, Jeongguk’s head had migrated from your shoulder to your lap, and you’d continued running your hands through his hair. It felt nice against your skin, so it was a win-win you supposed. The movie you were on, one of the ones where the characters from their individual franchises began to overlap, drew to a close and as the credits began to roll you were unable to hold back a yawn.

Jeongguk’s gaze was on you immediately, LED rings running soft lavender as he gazed at you with dark eyes through his lashes; the look paralysed you for a moment, hand freezing in his hair.

“Are you ready for bed, y/n?” he queried, and your heart nearly stopped in your chest. His voice was low, a much lower register than you were used to, and had just enough huskiness that a flush washed over the back of your neck. You didn’t doubt that he was picking it up as your heart rate accelerated, thoughts racing through the gutter as his deeper voice altered how you’d received his innocent question.

“I— yes,” you gulped, knowing you couldn’t hide the way your body betrayed you from a being that had sensors built into his form. You smiled at him, still fighting tiredness. “Are you going to keep watching, or do you want me to go set up the charging dock, Kookie?”

The android jolted at the nickname you’d tacked on without a second thought, eyes blowing wide and every trace of the sultry expression he’d worn before blasted from his features. Colour flushed to his cheeks, an emulation of a bodily function that resulted from embarrassment, or fluster— which was he feeling, you wondered?

“K-Kookie?” he stuttered, curling unconsciously into your lap as his large doe eyes bore into your own.

“Yeah, Kookie,” you repeated, enjoying the way he seemed to vibrate with excitement in your lap as the word left your mouth. “A nickname… I was tired and too lazy to say your full name, sorry.”

“Nickname?” he echoed, murmuring softly. “Kookie… I like it. Thank you, y/n.”

You’d beamed at him. “No problem, Kookie. Now, are you gonna watch or…?”

The android definitely seemed flustered as he pulled himself from your lap and nestled back into the couch and blanket, shooting you a sheepish smile. “I would like to keep watching, if that is okay, y/n.”

Your smile was soft as it tugged your lips and you stood, ruffling his hair. “Of course it’s okay. Have fun, Kookie.”

The sight of his cheeks coloured pink at your words was almost enough to counter the memory of his voice and the look he’d sent you earlier.

Almost.

After that day, you’d noticed more occasions where the android would turn and as his eyes fell upon you, he would pin you with that very same look and low tone. Whether he knew he was doing it or not, you didn’t know, but it was absolutely lethal. At this point, you feared for your health.

The other thing that had become most apparent, was the way his eyes were drawn to your form. He was an android, you knew there wasn’t really anything to the way his eyes lingered or the LED around his irises flared bright rose upon seeing you, but sometimes… Sometimes you could swear you could feel the heat his gaze left on your skin, you could swear the weight of it had you trembling with an emotion you dared not investigate.

The occasion that this was most prominent, had occurred not entirely too long after the previous. There was a fine boundary that was maintained between the two of you, a line you didn’t often end up toeing. You were the only one in the house that needed to do things like change, and bathe, which meant the likely incidence of awkward encounters that often came as a result of living with someone in such close quarters was much less. Not long after that day on the couch, however, the first of such incidents occurred.

It was morning, and you’d already woken up to a grinning Jeongguk and a particularly delicious smelling breakfast of bacon and French toast. With a full day of manning the shop and tinkering at the counter ahead of you, you were quick to scarf the meal down and dash for the shower.

This… was where the problem lay.

Your house wasn’t entirely critter-proof, and while you weren’t the kind of person to scream about a little bug or a spider, or even a snake, you did still have your limits.

And the large, inky spider that honest to god looked like it spanned half the length of your fogged-up bathroom mirror as you stepped out of the shower, naked and oblivious, was crossing them.

It was only as you reached for your towel, hand grasping the fuzzy material, that you saw it. You didn’t even realise you’d opened your mouth to let out a loud, incredibly alarmed noise that sounded a cross between a scream and an undignified yelp until it reached your own ears and you were stumbling back. You attempted to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, scrabbling to wrap the towel so it guarded your bits from the gargantuan arachnid spawned straight from the ickiest pits of hell. You considered hopping into the bathtub before realising that was stupid and would only end up with you cornering yourself— you couldn’t afford to give the demon such power.

“Oh hell, oH HELL, OH— NO, DON’T, GO AWAY!” your alarmed babbling escalated to a frantic yelp as the spider shifted slightly and you nearly slipped in the water that had spilt from your exit of the shower.

In your consuming fright you’d completely forgotten about your current housemate until there was thudding footsteps down the hall the door to the bathroom burst open. Jeongguk’s gaze was frantic as he searched for you, LED a bright red that flickered to cool green the moment his eyes fell upon your trembling form. It was the second you felt his gaze grace you that he froze suddenly, body halting as he stared with wide eyes. You, caught in the building intensity of his stare, the heat that began to flush over your arms and down your back, didn’t remember until moments later that you were currently standing, dripping wet and clad in nothing but a dodgily wrapped towel before him. You squeaked.

“Spider,” you barely managed to articulate the word, let alone point, but it was enough to tear Jeongguk from whatever trance the sight of you had thrown him into. His gaze followed the direction of your finger and he almost did a double-take at the sight of the massive arachnid.

“Woah,” his expression was one of wonderment despite the lingering blush in his cheeks. His gaze flew back to you for a moment, your current state of undress cast from his mind. “y/n, look how big that spider is!”

“Yes, I’m looking,” you said, pressing yourself back further against the wall— the fine-furred fiend looked like it was eyeing you off and preparing to jump at any second. “I’m looking and I do not like what I’m seeing.”

Jeongguk seemed slightly amused if somewhat perplexed at your words, but it didn’t take him long to connect your fear to the intruder in the room. “Ah… I can remove it, if you’d like?”

You were nodding frantically before he’d even finished talking. “Yes! Please do, please.”

Jeongguk’s lips tugged into the barest hint of a smile, before he was quickly and carefully doing as requested. In a matter of moments he’d securely grasped the spider, its frantically wriggling legs making you squeak in alarm, and he was quickly exiting the room, presumably to deposit the hellish creature outside your house.

“Make sure you don’t leave it near the house!” you called as an afterthought, wondering how exactly it had gotten inside in the first place. You heard a light laugh before his footsteps faded and you were left standing alone, suddenly aware once more of the water dripping down your form and the short towel around your middle. With cheeks that scorched at the memory of his heated gaze, you hurried from the bathroom and into your room to get dressed. Even once you were fully clothed and brushing through your hair, you couldn’t chase away the phantom touch of his gaze across your form. Had you ever felt such a way from a look alone before?

You honestly didn’t think so, and that scared you a little. He’d been in your life only a few months, for most of which he was comatose, and already he’d rendered you to this? Jeongguk, perhaps the sweetest android you’d ever known, was truly dangerous.

And if the way his gaze continued to linger occasionally, and his touch against your form grew more frequent after that day meant anything, you weren’t sure if he knew he was either.

x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x

This was perhaps the first time you’d left the house without Jeongguk in tow, and the outing had ended with you here— at the bar, three of your four close friends already gone with arguably the closest and incidentally most plastered left to your care.

Seokjin liked to drink, and he wasn’t all that messy of a drunk, but he was prone to his… off days, if you would. These were the days where instead of making him extra boisterous and extroverted as it usually did, the alcohol happened to exacerbate whatever doom and gloom was running through the back of his mind at the time. This happened to be one of those days.

You were a little tipsy yourself, but nowhere near as far gone as Seokjin currently was. It was with a sense of struggle that you hauled the two of you from the bar, arm around his waist so he didn’t fall and seriously harm himself.

“Come on, Seokjinnie,” you urged softly, amused at the loud, protesting groan the scientist let out in response. “We gotta get you a cab.”

“Don’t wanna,” he babbled, still grasping you tightly and following you haphazardly nonetheless. He allowed his head to roll and rest on your own. “Did I fin-ugh- finish my drink? Ugh, y/n I think I left my drink on the table—”

“You definitely left something on the table, but it wasn’t your drink,” you muttered. “I think it was your dignity.”

Seokjin let out a loud whine that was broken with a soft hiccup— his whole body jolted and his foot caught on a break in the pavement, the resulting trip nearly taking you both down. “I can’t believe you’re being so mean when I’m absolutely plastered like this. I’m vulnerable, a-and you— you’re uh… you’re doing something.”

You turned to see his brows were furrowed, before his face shifted and he burst triumphantly, having found the words he was looking for, “You’re b-bullying me, you b-b-buh-ass. You ass,” He paused. “You know, I have a nice ass.”

You snorted as you pulled your phone out and went about ordering an uber, trying not to burst into laughter at his drunken antics because you knew it would just set him off into a louder, more vehement set of complaints. “You do. Have you thought about modelling? I think it could get you some cash.”

“My face could get me some cash,” Seokjin muttered, seeming like he was seriously considering it for a moment before he shook his head violently; the blond strands of his hair nearly took out your eye in the process. “No! I’m a committed, I’m scientist to my work—”

“Wait,” He halted abruptly before you could even tease him for his slip, his ability to self-regulate kicking back in. “I’m a scientist, I’m committed to my work. Yes, that’s what I was aim— trying— that’s what I was going for.”

Even through the mist settled comfortably over your mind, his words triggered a sense of familiarity in you. Your thoughts went back to the old text message you’d stumbled upon the other day, and in your tipsy state you were unable to engage your filter in time— you blurted the question before you could give it a second thought, “Seokjin, what happened to that big project of yours? You know, the one you were really excited about?”

The blonde had been smiling at his little victory from before, but as your question registered in his mind the expression dropped from his face. In a violent swing of moods, his body seemed to deflate against you, bottom lip quivering. “Ah, my big project…”

He was silent a moment, gazing off into nothing, and you worried; perhaps you’d struck a nerve? Maybe you really shouldn’t have asked—

Seokjin’s body gave a heavy, shuddering breath, tongue darting to wet his lips before he spoke, tone soft and carrying a thread of sadness you didn’t think you’d ever heard from him, “They took it… My big project. I- god, y/n… they took him.”

Your head tilted, confusion blurring your thoughts too much for you to have a response ready. Perhaps thankfully, it was at that moment the uber pulled up— a hovercraft, it would seem to be today— and you busied yourself momentarily with getting your drunken friend in the back of the vehicle. Soon the two of you were safely inside, and the driver left you in peace as he began on the route to Seokjin’s home— well, the car began. He was just there to monitor.

You turned your gaze to the male in question, noticing his eyes had glazed slightly, a distant expression gracing his fine features once more. You were burning with curiosity inside, something nagging you to ask, to find out more. You knew Seokjin worked in the AI and android facilities, but for some reason you’d never heard the end of this tale. Now that you’d remembered, you couldn’t shake it from your thoughts. The sound of your voice seemed to break him from his daze.

“What do you mean, they took him?” you queried softly, hand finding his knee when he swayed in his seat slightly.

To your utter surprise, Seokjin’s eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, large chocolate orbs meeting your own and holding your gaze.

“He was the best thing I’ll ever make, y/n,” he said, hiccupping softly. He let out a faint groan, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. Your heart twinged as you watched his features twist, a single tear tracing down his cheek while his voice grew thick and caught in his throat. “He... I really… I really did it this time, y/n. He… he was beyond a-anything I’d ever even thought I would be able to create. He was the first project I ever got full reign of.”

There was a pause as he swallowed, dark brows furrowing as he allowed his head to drop back against the headrest; the flickering glow of city buildings and signs as they blurred past cast a myriad of blue, fuchsia and violet over the tired planes of his face. His voice came out fainter this time, but there was a heat behind his words, an anger so intimately intertwined with sadness that you didn’t know how to go about untangling it.

“I worked so hard, and he… he exceeded all of my expectations. He had such potential,” Seokjin’s breath shuddered. “And they took him. He— he deserved so much better, deserves better than a life of servitude, degradation and humiliation… but they still took him from me.”

Any words you could have hoped to muster had long since died in your throat, your own eyes glistening at the pain in his tone. Something niggled at the back of your mind, something threatened to click in your subconscious, and even though you didn’t understand it, you found yourself asking, “What was his name? His model number?”

Seokjin sighed softly, drawing a hand up to scrub over his face; he was reaching the stage of the night where he shifted from silly/saddened drunk to exhaustion. It wouldn’t be long now before sleep welcomed him with open arms.

“I never got to give him a name,” he said, and it was as though the words saddened him even more as they left his mouth. “But his model number…”

The uber began to slow suddenly, and belatedly you realised you’d arrived at Seokjin’s apartment. You thanked the driver, climbing out of the vehicle and pulling a drowsy Seokjin out after you. Your ride was quick to pull from the curb, disappearing into the city lights from whence it came, and you stumbled towards the blonde’s apartment building with him in tow, arm draped over your shoulder.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Seokjin was mumbling to himself as you gradually made your way to his floor, nearly sweating from the effort of keeping him upright alone. “His model number… do I know?”

It was with great effort you managed to unlock his door and drag him into the apartment, depositing him on his couch while you went to retrieve a glass of water; you had to weave around metal parts that poked haphazardly from tables and benches as you went. When you returned with glass in hand, Seokjin had taken to discarding his shoes and socks and had loosened the collar of the button-up around his neck.

“I don’t remember…” Seokjin looked ready to cry again, and you hurried to pass him the water— he accepted with a soft ‘thanks’.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” you soothed him softly, hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“No, it’s not,” Seokjin nearly dropped the glass on its descent from his mouth and you took this as your cue to remove the breakable item from his vicinity. “It’s not okay, he- he deserves better. He deserves name, he deserves to be remembered.”

“I’m sure he does,” you murmured as you urged him to his feet and guided him down the hall to his bedroom. Seokjin was silent, blinking drowsily as he slipped into his bed at your gentle urging, nestling subconsciously into the covers.

He could hardly keep his eyes open, but when they finally closed another tear slipped from beneath his lashes to roll down his cheek. His voice was soft. “If… If I had known… where he would go, what kind of life he would be destined for… I would never… never have made him this way… He deserves better…”

You waited a few moments more to see if he would continue, but upon the sound of a soft snore already escaping him, you surmised he was well and truly gone for the night. Shaking your head lightly, you made sure he was tucked in and comfortable before grasping the extra blanket from the end of his bed and making your way to the loungeroom; you were quite tired yourself, and the couch was seeming more and more appealing the longer you were awake.

Even with the muddling effects of the alcohol, your mind was still racing, albeit tiredly, as you settled on the couch and wrapped yourself in the blanket. Seokjin’s words, his tears and the distinct undertone of guilt in his tone as he’d spoken those last words all ran through your head one last time before your heavy eyelids were dropping closed, and you succumbed to sleep. When you woke in the morning, would you remember all that you’d learnt tonight?

→ masterlist | part ii

[0rdis]

actually wrote something sfw about my fl oc. written in the pov of Lady in Lilac. 

spoilers for seeking, kinda. Goes up to the Knock but is very much a huge au so its... very not canon. And very very vague.

[ao3 link]

The first time you meet him, his eyes are peligin. 

He wanders into your shop on legs fresh off the zee. He's seen something out there and you set out vials of dark ink. It's hard not to have heard the rumors about him, as close as you are to the Bazaar.

"I hear you can do tattoos in the Neathbow?" Asks the Monster-Hunter and his tongue keeps running over his teeth. There's no blood on them but you know that's what he's looking for. He's hungry in a way you know.

"I do. They call you the Fist of the Bazaar, correct?" It's an impressive title. The Masters overlook his hunger because he's willing to follow his targets to Death's Boat. You remember shuddering the first time you heard about how he shoves them off. 

He is dedicated, in the least. You, of all people, know how the Bazaar and her Curators are with secrets. Having someone so naive, so desperate for a place in the world, makes it easy to keep enforcing their wills.

He tenses. "Have we met?"

He wouldn't remember if you had, you think. You say, "No. I'm a friend of the Bazaar, though. Don't fret." 

He doesn't relax. "They call me that. But I'm just a bounty hunter." He's modest and that's strange down here. You wonder how long he will be like this.

"A hard job when death isn't permanent down here," you smile. His name and face are known. His habits will be known next. "A tattoo, then?" 

"An eye. Like they say hides under the Zee." 

You take out your instruments. "Have you seen it?"

"Not yet." 

You have no doubt he will. Already you know he's curious in ways that are dangerous. You ink it into the soft flesh of his inner arm with peligin. Gant flecks the pupil, because he will be consumed soon too.

He's silent as you work, like he's holding his breath. He watches with the same peligin eyes. You are sure they were brown before he got hungry. You wonder how he started.

"Do you dream?" You ask. 

"Even when I don't sleep," he says quietly.

"I'll give you some advice, on the house. When things seem too hard to bare, look to love. Always." 

His eyebrows furrow. "I don't know anything 'bout love "

"No?" You tilt your head. "Nothing about the sacrifice? The feeling of tightness in your chest like you may be drowning? The feeling you get when you remember the stars?"

His breathing hitches. You both fall silent, until finally he replies, "Isn't love dangerous here?"

"Yes. But when has that ever stopped you?" You're talking about yourself but you see something in his eyes that reminds you of yourself. You had been curious like him too once. And you had found the answers in the Game That Stretched To The Stars and you had fallen in love. Every year you return to the Neath. You look to love and add your own stories to her runed spires. 

He doesn't answer. 

After, he pays and leaves a tip. You raise a brow but he leaves before you can ask. He's left you his card, though you never use it. He leaves in the direction of the Forgotten Quarter. You can almost hear him telling the Well his stories.

(No, not you. The you you left behind.)

You see him again before you leave again to the surface, the tattoo is healed but you think you see it blink.

–

The second time you meet him, it's two years later. His hair is turning white, his eyes almost golden. He gives you a candle. It smells like lilacs. He's trying to hide the smell of absinthe on his breath. 

"Have you seen the Vake?" The Vake-Scarred Hunter asks.

"I hear hunters go missing searching for it. I wouldn't dare seek it out." 

He pulls out a crumpled paper. You didn't take him for an artist but it looks like something you would see in a research paper. Messy sketches with too much attention to the wings. You absentmindedly touch the tattoo you gave yourself. The one of a crab. 

There's love in his drawings. Like there's love in your work. 

"A bat," you say evenly. Mr Veils, you think. You've met them in passing, although never without their robes like he's sketched out here. You've read all about it on the hidden undersides of the Bazaar. She keeps even the worst and failed love stories, though they are hidden. You doubt even Veils knows its tale is burned into her carapace, right next to a name that should no longer exist. 

"Please. Can you do it?"

You have turned down many Vake-Hunters but you do it for him. For the love story it will produce.

Wings wrapped around his neck as you know claws have wrapped around it before. You can see the blood from a weeping scar soaking into his shirt. How many times has he died now? And how cruel is fate is to give him eyes you once saw in the Irrigo pools. He's hungry and has lost too much weight. 

Is he the one, you wonder?

When you finish, you hold out a mirror and you swear you see him wipe away tears. You inked the stars of the wings in cosmogone and violant. A feral grin and eyes the speak of intelligence rather than a beast. 

"Yes," he whispers, "That's perfect."

You wonder if Veils will be offended or proud.

–

It's the third time and yet the first. He's soaked from well water, limping. He almost looks like he recognizes you. He's full of love like you are. The real you. 

(You're early.) You say and the real you would feel guilty. Down here, you don't, you can't. He still reminds you of yourself. Would you stop him if you could? Fate and Destiny are such strange things. You had once sought yours too.

The Rapacious Hunter wants answers, of course. You can give them. Just like the Bazaar once gave you.

(No more mysteries.) You tell him. (Mr Candles was forgotten and you must be too. I know what you want – what he wants and what the real me wants. And it's all about love.)

You almost laugh at the look he gives you, somewhere between surprise, joy, and fear. (Oh, hush, I can say it down here. No one can hear us. It's just you and me. I'm no one and you're even less than that.) 

You baptise him in Irrigo. You don't need to take anything, he'll leave behind a shade like you. His future is already set in stone. But you will make it so he can't back out, can't turn around. The Masters will know. But will they remember after they've seen him long enough to stop him? 

(Perhaps, in time, he came to like being The Drowned Man. You're more alike him than any other.) 

You had met Candles and you had read the tragedy until your eyes burned from the Correspondence etched on the back of the one you love (not the you down here. The you down here doesn't love her). You had cried reading it and she had cried with you. She hadn't meant for it to happen like this, but she had no other options.

Perhaps Spices had been right, the Bazaar had told you, murder makes wonderful love stories. She's tired. You wish you could help more. 

In a way, you do, stepping to the side to reveal the candle. The Hunter-Seeker stumbles forward, desperate, mad. (Take it and you'll never be alone again.) You warn but you almost laugh. He's not alone. Not with the voice in his head. Not with Veils. Not with you.

(What else could I do but love you?) You ask because the real you gave you up for love. This Seeker will give himself up for love as well.

And there's a comfort in that. For him and you.

 –

“Do you ever miss the Sun?”

(Yes.)

He doesn't ask which Sun. You almost wish he would. 

– 

You don't expect to see him again, but the next year, he is back in you shop. He glows with a familiar violet. He knows you as much as you know him now. 

And both of you know what it's like to love a monster. 

"The Parabolan sun isn't right." People say there are only colors that exist in dreams. You are sure his eyes are that shade of gold now. 

You agree because you remember the way the sun of Parabola looked before he died. It was his light back then, not the false sun the Second City Refugees put into the sky. 

"They love the sun," you reply, "They couldn't live without it, so they built their own."

"Love makes people do horrible things." He isn't talking about Parabola anymore. Maybe he's not even the one talking. 

"Especially when you love something cruel."

"Cruel enough to kill?" He asks and you are positive you aren't talking to the Hunter now. 

"Cruel enough to imprison." You can't help the sadness in your voice. It still surprises you, though.

"All shall be well. It promised."

"They will only take a little. They promised." You counter. It's a low kind of blow but you don't say it bitterly. Everything that the Bazaar did, she did for love.

The two of you stare at each other. He closes his eyes, steadies himself. "Ah," he chuckles, "But we wouldn't love them if they weren't so."

Yes, yes, you agree. If the Messenger had succeeded, or had it not had tried so hard, you would not love it so. If Veils hadn't betrayed, it would not be Veils. 

You don't say any of this, of course. What you say is, "A final parting gift?"

He nods. "I want to remember Parabola." 

A vine in viric curls up his leg like a snake. Thorns look like they could draw real blood and buds could bloom into roses if you close your eyes. You step back so he can see your work. 

"Do you think," he starts, "that this will ever end?" 

"I know it will." How, you aren't sure. But you know sooner or later it will end. You know the politics of the Wilderness.

You pick up your needle one last time, put it to skin and write one word. A name. The name of the Bounty Hunter in front of you. He won't be this way much longer, but for now, it's his name.

He will be remembered this time.

–

The Once-Master had promised you the Sun. 

You had haunted the Nadir like a ghost, turned bitter by being given up. The real you had left you, so that she may work to a doomed future. The Bazaar is doomed. You can't change that. Perhaps you want to punish yourself. Bring light to the Neath and end this charade. 

The real you had love, had a future. You would take it from her as they had taken it from Mr Eaten. Grief and hate are all that's left you which is why it hurts so bad to realize the Rapacious Hunter has more.

He has hope.

You are silent as he lets the Betrayer cut him apart. You expected Veils to kill him. You find yourself surprised yet again by how the whole thing unfolds. Instead, the Hunter is left less than he was before, if possible. Less human. But not a candle.

Not yet. He wants to be more. He wants to be Candles. 

That leaves you as Eaten, you suppose. The agony and hate made manifest. You think you, too, have been betrayed. You would have frozen with him had he asked. Died here in the north with nothing but each other. You love him because there is nothing left of you, as there will be nothing left of him. He is meant to bring Law to this Lawless place. Restore the balance of the Chain. 

He is meant to be avenged and remembered. He promised you would see the Sun.

You break your silence only because he is so weak. You aren't sure if he can make it. But he has made it this far and you are left without a choice. It's now or never. 

(Knock, and ask.) 

"How can he return?" The question is a damnation. There is no  Sequence for this. But you realize, suddenly, this may have not been Eaten's plan, but it had been Candles. A Greater Plan, a Greater Sin. This is greater than you, or the Vake-Scarred Hunter, or even Mr Veils who slinks back as the gate ignites in a burning white light. The real stars glisten and glow. A ripple across the door. 

You understand. This had never been about the Bazaar or the Betrayers. This is about those higher. Lure the White here, to this Lawless place. An army is building.

On the surface, the real you makes a wish on a shooting star that streaks across the horizon. In all things, look to love.

Veils is staring, not at the stars but at the figure in front of the gate. The shadow that had been the Seeker bursts at the seams with light and memories. Lacre cannot bury Law. You cannot reach his mind, the place you had made home. It's not there and neither are you. You are finished. Nothing will remain. 

But in the end, you see a Sun, bright golden.

[squiddybeifong]

DianaZee for “Blood? Oh, its not mine”?

I’ve given up on finding old prompt lists in my drafts but im p sure it was a dialogue prompt maybe?? Anyways I hope you like it darling 💕💕💕

“Blood? Oh, it’s not mine!”

–

Zachary could only perch his hands on his hips as he looked over the once-clean remains of Shadowcrest’s foyer, his nose scrunching at the overwhelming scent of cat food that hung in the air. Skye had the good graces to look remorseful at the sheer amount of shrimp pate that laid on the old floors, but Teekl jumped from Klarion’s arms to rub against his leg. The cat’s loud purring was practically mocking the magician as he bounced around, traipsing through his impromptu food-castle.

Well, less a castle more wannabe-Sphinx imitation, but the idea behind it still stood. 

The Zatara looked far from amused, his head tilting to the side as he felt the far-off force of his cousin’s aura preparing to appear. Zach turned on his heel at Zee’s awful timing, hoping that the pizza rolls were done and that the three of them could hang out in peace, cat food cafeteria be damned. He clicked his tongue and called over his shoulder to the two over the dull thrum of the toaster oven, “Your cat’s mess, your job cleaning it up!”

Klarion rolled his eyes and picked his familiar up before he could get his paws dirty, “Rude.”

Skye let out a soft laugh, tiptoeing past the faux-fence of cat food cans and crouching to get a better peek at whether or not the pate sculpture was stable –the last thing she needed was to take a cat food bath in these new boots. Had he been able to stay the giant, edible version of Teekl would’ve needed a reinforced neck but for now it was no matter. 

The mystic’s voice was a drawl as she stood back up. Skye halfheartedly waved in the direction of the door that Zach disappeared through, “You know he’s always grumpy. Once the Purramid’s down he’ll help out.”

The blonde kept her face ducked at the groan that her pun caused, not able to hold back her snickers. She stepped to the side and hopped back around the cans, nudging Klarion’s elbow with her own, “Now come on, you two! That part looks really unstable–”

Right on cue, with all the flourish of a magician of her standard, Zatanna stepped out of a portal into the foyer. Her brows furrowed as the scent hit her then her eyes widened as her heels slipped in the cat food. A gasp huffed out of her as she kicked the sculpture to just barely maintaine her balance, the precariously balanced pate in the shape of Teekl’s head toppling to the side and falling onto her shoulders.

The squish! was followed by a half second’s pause as Zee blinked down at herself. The two teens took simultaneous steps back. Zatanna spat out a minced piece of shrimp, her nose scrunching –and inadvertently causing some juice to drip down her face– before her cousin’s name rumbled out of her, “ZACHARY!!!”

She shook her shoulders, “Doof, ffo!” 

Sapphire eyes narrowed as she stared down at her outfit; everything white was now stained pink and there were still bits of cat food lodged in her fishnets and inside her buttons. Zatanna shook aside the annoying ordeal that dry cleaning her tux would be and ran a frustrated hand through her drenched curls, the other perching in a fist on her hip as she stared down the two– well, three mystics. 

Teekl let out an indignant “mrouw!” as Klarion pulled him closer to his chest, the witch boy more than wary enough to not test the magician. Skye shifted under the glare, her eyes flicking to where Zach was still moving about the kitchen, although his steps were far more hesitant with his cousin’s aura around.

Bending to pick up the fallen head, an incredulous sound slipped out of the magician as the pate’s nose crumbled away, “What is this?”

Skye rubbed the back of her arm, wincing a bit as she fully considered just how much food they had impulse-bought –damn those bogo sales, “Teekl’s idea.”

Zatanna blinked, her face somehow not nearly as deadpan as her voice, “Of course.”

–

Once Shadowcrest was clean and Zachary and his friends had disappeared somewhere or the other, Zatanna let her shoulders relax. She figured they’d be fine and let out a grumble as she tiredly commanded, “Nepo a latrop kcab ot ym tnemtrapa.” 

Despite sunset being long over, the only light was coming from the bedroom when the mystic appeared just inside her front door. She felt the remnants of Diana’s shower in the air and the idea of taking a long bath plus getting cuddled after brought a smile to the magician’s face. She let out a little groan as she put her hat on the hook and began unbuttoning her soaked jacket, the buttons popping out with an obnoxious squish! and some splatter.  

She heard Diana shift in bed, “Zee?”

“Just got in!”

“Finally,” The Amazon sing-songed out. Diana’s voice was light as she rolled out from under the sheets and strolled towards the door. Zee worked on untying her bowtie, tilting her face towards the bedroom door as Diana drawled, “And here I was worrying I’d have to start withou– HOLY HERA ARE YOU OKAY?!!!”

Immediately the warrior was at her magician’s side, her hands patting at the stains that covered almost every inch of her once-white undershirt. Zatanna’s mouth opened to explain but Diana cut her off, “ZEE!!!”

A pained sound escaped her as she held her lover’s forearms, “THERE’S SO MUCH BLOOD!!!”

“Blood?” Zee looked down at herself, an exasperated laugh escaping as she realized what was wrong. Chuckling a bit, more out of exhaustion than anything, Zatanna murmured, “Oh no, no, no, Love…” 

She slipped off a glove and cupped the warrior’s face, internally blanching at how gruesome the liquid appeared as some inadvertently spread on Diana’s cheek. She could only hope her smile was reassuring enough, “Don’t worry; it’s not mine.”

That confidence obviously had the wrong affect; Wonder Woman let out a wondrously horrified squeak, “You don’t kill!”

Zee shook her head, “It’s not human.” 

Diana’s face scrunched up in half confusion, half alarm and the magician accepted that her brain wasn’t working all too well after those double-length shows with the clean-up encore. Zee lifted her red-soaked hand into the air, “Or even blood.”

A navy blink was her response and Zatanna shrugged, “Cat food.”

Diana slowly nodded, her shoulders relaxing as she continued patting her lover’s arms and sides, glad when she felt no injuries. The Amazon wiped at her girlfriend’s forehead and then pressed a kiss just below her hairline, “Should I even ask why?” 

“Zachary’s friends are weird but they’re teens so it’s okay that they’re making a mess of Dad’s– of my house.”

“You’re kind of a mess too,” Diana lightly teased. She lazily popped open one of the highest button’s on Zee’s undershirt and flicked aside a bit of shrimp from her collar, “And still too gloopy for a bath but I feel like you really need one.”

A hopeful pair of sapphire eyes gazed up at her and the princess pecked Zee’s forehead again, “I’ll start the water.”

Strolling to the bathroom and turning on the faucet, Diana plopped down on the bathtub’s rim as she watched Zee follow her in, peeling off the rest of her drenched clothes as she went.

Diana watched her for a moment, casually ogling as she leaned her weight on her palms. Zatanna met her gaze and winked, her tired smile charming despite the splotches of not-blood that coated most of her. 

Tilting her head at the thought Diana looked down at herself, standing and tossing aside her cat food splattered nightgown. She glanced at the tub –big enough to fit them both– and undressed completely, navy eyes sliding shut as she sat on the porcelain rim again. For a moment she listened to the sound of the magician muttering under her breath, the whirl of clothes flying up out of the hamper to make a load in the washing machine, and the flush of the water pooling in the tub behind her. After the scare of Zee’s appearance, the quiet that befell them was a really nice change of pace to her usual schedule whenever she was outside of San Francisco; so wonderfully domestic. 

Her chest was light at how comfortable they’d gotten in the scant few weeks of living together and Diana let her head drop back as she sighed happily, the sound morphing into an incredulous laugh as the scent of cat food finally hit her. Diana giggled and ran a hand through her hair, wondering just how much of a crime scene the apartment looked. The words slipped out of her, more fond than humorous, “You mystics are insane.”

Zatanna clicked her tongue, unable to hold back her smile as she strolled towards her lover. Stopping right in front of her, Zee smiled as Diana stood to steal a kiss. The magician’s words were teasing in between their lips, “Says the eternally God-fighting demigoddess.”

Snickering, Diana pulled back to boop their noses. She fought off another swell of disbelief at the realization that she had not-blood on her nose and swooped down for another kiss to distract herself. She hummed as she wrapped Zatanna in a hug, a girlish trill escaping as the mage stood on her feet so she didn’t have to hunch. 

Her smile was broad enough to disrupt their kiss and Diana nuzzled their noses together, “Well, not everyone can keep up with such sauciness, my Mistress of Magic–”

Zee cut her off with another kiss. 

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x14 Commentary

Special episode where a bunch of tired and caffeinated Europeans ( plus a sleepy American) scream together, and then die and try to get on with their day ( lol AS IF)

Hello and welcome:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies  (Nat)

@dean-winchesters-bacon  (Kat)  good night babe

@waywardbaby  (Zee)

@ain-t-bovvered  (Giulia)

1 2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13

Giulia: Splash

14x14 Ouroboros

Zee: Can’t relive this. With Jack

Nat: I cry

Zee&Giu: I believe in us

Nat: Fuck this

Giulia: Ok sam

Zee: I do believe in us

Giulia: I ain’t got enough coffee in my blood

Zee: The end?? How dare he?

AAAND HERE WE ARE

[ Retro French pop music plays ] IS THIS A THING NOW?

Nat: Uhh...Mexico, Ellaaaa

Zee: Giuls, thoughts??

I see no wrongdoing here. The pasta is being dump into the water while it’s boiling. Garlic! YUM. That looks like too much sauce for that much pa- let’s be honest here, once can never be have too much sauce who cares. Ok I see olive oil, yellow bell pepper ( which is the best one ok) , garlic, onions, zucchini, and I think there’s parmigian cheese and *disgusted sound* cilantro, and a body....

Nat: Well, isn't that tasty

Giulia: ...I’M HUNGRY

Zee: Strike that

Nat: Fresh liver

Giulia: THE CILANTRO GUYS ! YUCK

[SIZZLES]

Nat: NO

Oh he’s making like fried liver, that was not cheese but grated bread ok ok I see you THAT LOOKS TASTY( you forgot the flour tho ok)

Nat: I'm more grossed out by the liver than the snake

Zee: Excuse me while I barf

Theeeey’re HEEEEEERE

Nat: Ohhh... babes

Zee: Shut. The. Fuck. Up

Giulia: those look tasty too

Creepy motherfucker , who is weirdly making me tingling with his cooking skill, : time to go Felix.

Giulia&Nat: A SNACK FOR LATER

Giulia: I WISH

Nat: NO How about no, He just left his meal cooking. Could burn the house down

Giulia: yeah real rude. Killing people and burning houses down

Nat: Mmmhh...snack

Giulia: Omg Jack’s plaid coat. Jack has amazing coats game y’all.

Nat: snacks

Zee: Three of them

oh...now they are all 4 of them ?

Nat: all of them,  well, no except one

Zee: Jack is a baby

Dean has a surprisingly soft steps. 

C: Oh no

I know Cass baby, that bitch fucked up a perfectly good pasta that’s what he did.

Giulia: Dean is us

D: Yeah who just let themselves be eaten?

Giulia: I’d let myself be eaten by you 

D: My money is on witchcraft.

R: Och, you, always blaming witches

D: Cause a lot of times is witches

Rowena basically : I was minding my glorious business when you whiny bitches called to beg for my help

D: Well we’ve been chasing this guy for weeks. What’s your point

Nat: Awww...Deano calm yo tits

Nat: Dean tossing things is my kink

Zee: Kinks again Nat?

Nat: Can you blame me? I'm FINE

Giulia: Hello castiel

R: Not enough Pantera posters for one.

Dean looking almost amused

Giulia: Coughing jack is my (1) fear

Jack: I’m fINe , I’M NoT dYinG . 

Nat: yeah, right, Jack

Nat: Dean..please!

R: Darling boy, everything means something.

Giulia: Be a dear and bring the snakeskin

Sam and Rowena research date night

R: You say [high pitched voice] ‘oh it’s just some magic and you think I’d leave it at that?’

Nat: Ahh..Sam puffing his chest

R: I’m more curious about how your brother is managing to keep an archangel locked away inside his mind.

S: Because....he’s Dean [read this as Batman]

Giulia&Zee: Dean is dean

Zee&Giulia: He’s fine

Nat: DEAN IS NOT FINE

Zee: Giuls. Shut up

Giulia: Zee 🖕🏻

DATE NIGHT!!

Look at them HAAAAANDS cradling the mug.

D: You know, I got to say, I got a pretty good feeling about bringing Rowena in on this one. I think her and Sam have a chance of cracking it.

me: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

C: They do have many books.

D: Yes, they do.

Zee: Worried husband

C: Hey Dean...

D: I’m fine....

ok ok ok ...I ADORE this shot! you’ll see this often in my feed , just fyi

C: What you're doing, even just sitting here and having a cup of coffee, is a Herculean feat. I can't imagine the willpower

Giulia: hey dean. Oh how I adore how he talks  

WHAT IS THAT LOOK DEAN

[Jack dying in the bathroom]

Giulia: JACK STOP FUCKING COUGHING

[Jack spitting blood] 

me : *stares in the distance, lost in my ptsd vietnam episode*

Zee: Are you really fine?

Nat: NO OF COURSE HE ISN'T

Cas is like.... DONT U LIE TO ME, i have no right to tell you this because of a recent stupid thing I did but DON’T LIE TO MY FACE

WHAT IS THIS LOOOOOOOOOOOOOK 

Zee: That’s what I’m supposed to say

D: ...That’s what we all say

Dean’s like.... yeah ok he can read right through me.

[ starting operation ‘ let’s lower our walls’ in 3....]

[....2......]

[......1...]

Giulia: Still even more convinced that they will use michael grace on jack

Giulia: Those eye lines are ruining me

D: There's this pounding in my head. It never stops. 

Castiel’s face:

D:  Michael's in there, and he is fighting hard to get out.

D: And I can't let my guard down... not for a second.

Me: I’ll cheer to that bro

C:  Well, that is not sustainable.

Giulia: THIS SHOW IS NOT SUSTAINABLE

D: ....It's on me.

Nat: IT'S NOT FUCKING ON YOU 

C: We are here to help you.

me: *SOBS*

D: I know that, and I appreciate that. I do.

[JACK STILL DYING IN THE BATHROOM]

Nat: fuck this

Zee: That kid is gonna die in the fucking bathroom

Giulia: U FUCKER STOP

Nat: IF... IF.... IF

D: If you don’t ....

THIS LOOKS ARE KILLING ME

D: We still have plan B

Nat: Fuck plan B

Giulia: NO ONE LIKES PLAN B

Zee: Coffin Ocean Done

Nat: NOT even plan B likes Plan B

Jack’s like : yo you finished with the eye fucking and feelings sharing so I don’t feel embarrassed by you two in public? 

Castiel’s like : I’m out with two problematic kids who don’t tell me nothing

Nat: EVERYBODY'S FINE

Dean:

Giulia: We are fiNe

C: Okay, um...these killings -- it seems like there's a ritualistic quality to the crime scenes, right? It's almost liturgical.

Zee: Greek there for ya

Giulia: thank you Mr.Portokalos 

D: Ah yeah. See that one I knew.

Dean...you cute fucker I swear

J: Anyone who could do this is a monster...I mean, even if they're human.

D: Looks like Sam and Rowena have something

Nat: Sam and Rowena have something wink wink

THEY DOOOOO ? (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

D: This is like an A.V. Club presentation.

Giulia: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

J: What's an A.V. Club?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

C: It's a special group for people who do not play sports.

Giulia: I love the av club, where do I sign in?

Dean points at Cas “He’s the av club” [insert Oprah gif]

Giulia: IM DEAD

also how does Cas knows that? was that included in Metatron’s pop culture packet?

Nat: Of course he'll know

Zee: Jack is precious

R: Excuse me, boys, but this is a bit more pressing than your hilarious banter.

Excuse me Rowena , nothing is more pressing than their hilarious banter

CAS WHAT ARE U DOING , CONTROL YOUR EYEBROW

Giulia: clash of the titans. (Not gonna lie, I almost wrote clash of the tits). Just fyi

Zee&Nat: Of course you did

R: You know about Medusa?.

I’m sorry but....everyone knows about Medusa.  Ok ok this was mainly for the giggles and all because, you bet your ass that Dean would know who the fuck Medusa was, STOP MAKING DEAN THIS DUMB WHEN IT’S NOT REALISTIC.

Giulia: How caffeine is working

Nat: Because why else should the writers write this episode

Nat: Definitely...anything you want. Get on your knee. lol

Giulia: ...ooooh i can smell all the meta from here

Nat: They all gay for dick

Well Nat I guess….I mean... ...well that’s...that’s the goal

Giulia: U would all be gay for them

Nat: you not wrong

Giulia: MMMMMM

Nat: UHHHH FBI FBI

Zee: Fucking hell

Giulia: FBI FBI FBI

Nat&Giula: IS THIS AMUSING TO YOU?

Now turned on and scared Guy : No SIR

Cas: 

yeah that’s right call me Sir

Nat: Psycho penpal

Y’all my psycho text pals tho

Nat: you're not his type

Giulia: BITCH IM EVERYBODY’s TYPE

R:For the record, I don't love being included on his little hit list.

S: Apparently he can’t see angels

J: I’m not an angel

D: Close enough

C: So, if Jack and I approach Noah on our own, we -- we may surprise him.

Giulia: ABORT I DON T LIKE THAT PLAN

Zee: Happily surprised moose

Giulia: i’d get sloppy....( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Zee: I’m here for Sam’s short shirt

I’m here for them short of clothes 

R: I HAVE A PLAN

Giulia: WEE DOGGIE

Nat: OMG

Giulia: IS THAT JACK

Nat: THAT DOG IS SO SMALL IN SAM'S ARM

S: We -- We think he might have eaten something.

R: "We think"? "We think"? He means that it's my fault for not keeping an eye on the poor dear. He thinks that everything is my fault.

S: Can we not fight in front of the vet?

S: I mean, I guess it's not entirely your fault that you looked away!

R: He blames me for everything! I let his mother ride the Jet Ski one time!

WHAT IS THIS? AM I DEAD AND IN FANFIC TROPES PARADISE?

Nat: Wee Jackie Boy

Giulia: I CAN T

Zee: Sam got a dog and it’s his “son”

S: What are you doing?

R: Oh, I mean, I realize it's not...[Deep voice ]...pretending to be the FBI. [Normal voice] But there are other ways of doing things, Samuel. Plus...I thought my performance was quite magnificent.

Giulia: I NEED THOSE TWO TO FUCK 

Zee: The thermometer

Giulia: i bet he liked being a dog 

Giulia: *seeing just now Zee’s thermometer text*  THIS IS HORRIBLE TIMING

Nat: Did Jack just get something in his ass for this

Nat: YES

Zee: SO YES

J: Just wish I could've got it before she took my temperature.

Giulia: ...he took one for the team.

R: Oh, uh, a moment, Samuel. What did you do to that boy?

R: It's volatile magic, powerful, and it's stitched to him like some kind of parasite.I was curious before, but now I am worried, so I'll ask you again, Sam What did you do?

I can’t believe Rowena is lecturing Sam, and being right too

R: using dangerous, mysterious magic, regardless of the cost, that's a very on-brand me thing to do.

Nat: She's still so much shorter than him standing on the curb

Zee: Everyone is shorter than him

R: Of course, Samuel. Until very recently, I was the villain.

So I ordered this SamWitch extra spicy I guess.

Giulia: I REALLY NEED THOSE TWO TO GET IT OUT OF THEIR SYSTEM

Meanwhile scarred Jack :

Nat: That guy is creepy

Giulia: He’s so flamboyant loves every minute of it

Zee: That gorgon is a total bitch

Noah: "Helpless men" -- that's rich. No, I do eat ladies, too, but women have become so cautious lately. Must be all that finally waking up from centuries of misogynistic oppression. Good for them. Bad for you.

Nat: Ok but I like that

D: But if we cut off their head, then is more creatures gonna crawl out?

Ok but ...hey...legit question

....sam...

SAM

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

knock first , kick doors later

Zee: Enter the angel of the lord

Noah a bit turned on and scared

Nat: does he do anything else

Nat: NO fair

Noah : demi-god actually

Zee: I’m a lover not a fighter

Nat: THEN LOVE HIM

Giulia: I DON'T LIKE THIS STORY

Nat: Slapping

Zee: Oh he didn’t

Nat: NO cas

#mood  #same

Nat: wHAT

Giulia: NO , WHAT

Zee: Real pleasure

Giulia: OH SAMMY IS HANGRY

Zee: Why is he kicking their asses?

Giulia: Stop making him bump his head

Nat: MICHAEL CAN GET OUT

Zee: Fuck yeah

Giulia: YAS JACK BABY

Zee: My baby is hurt

Giulia: ALL MY BABIES ARE HURT

Zee: Swallow Cas

Zee dON’T BE NASTY

Giulia: OH CAS KNOWS

Nat: I can't even see

this is painful 

Zee: Look how precious jack is

Nat: Dean's still too tall for the bed

Giulia: IM ANXIOUS . CAS IS ANGRY

Nat: POOR JACK THO?

Sam asking Rowena what to do is making me weak.

JESUS

Giulia: GOD DAMN IT. I CHOKED . that was scary

Nat: that's what she said

Nat: Cas wants to make up for it

Giulia: THERE ARE TOO MANY THINGS HAPPENING

[VIDEO] because I’m a sucker for these moments and you need to appreciate them more.

Giulia: We do too Jack

Zee: Special humans

Nat: sometimes we forget that too

Zee: Humans burn bright

Giulia: They are still human

Giulia: For a very brief time

Zee: He have to carry on

Nat: WE WILL NOT CARRY ON

Giulia: DAMN CAS

Nat: wHAT'S THE POINT

Nat: Jack has it right

Giulia: JACK IS RIGHT

Zee: It will hurt

Nat: Stop talking like that CAs

This scene is one of the best one , I can’t 

Nat: CASSSSSSSSS

Zee: Can Cas shut up already?

Giulia: IM CRYING

Giulia: MY GOD CAS

Nat: Jack calm yo tits

Giulia: JACK STOP SPIRALLING

Giulia: He s keeping the snake . LUCIFER SON IS KEEPING THE SNAKE. I DON T LIKE IT

OH....SOMEONE IS AWAKE

Nat: NO . WHAT STOP

Giulia: what is th

Zee: He woke up alright

 I KNOW WHERE I AM

Giulia: The screaming

Zee: He out

Nat: He's gone?

Giulia: OH NO. I DON T TRUST IT

Nat: NO

Giulia: DEAN DON’T PANIC

Giulia: OH SHIT

Nat: WHAT IS GOING ON

Giulia: OH FUCK

Nat: WELP MAGGIE IS GONE

Giulia: FUCK

Nat: WHAT THE FUCK

Giulia: DEAN BREATHE

Zee: Shut the fuck up

Nat: SHIT

Giulia: OH SHIT

Nat: DO YOU STILL WANT THEM TO BONE?

Nat: Michael!Rowena x Sam

Giulia: NOT NOW NAT!

Nat: SHUT UP NAT

Giulia: SHUT UP NAT .i can t watch this

Nat: Always taunting him. "come on sam, you can go harder than that, boy" .OH GOD SHUT UP NAT

Nat: FUCK YOU MICHAEL I HATE HIM SO MUCH

Zee: I fucking love him

M: It didn’t work out. It was him, not me.

Michael making promises.....DOESN’T WORK.

R: I’ll live either way

Zee: Sam is gonna off me

R: ..which makes dinner a little awkard

Giulia: GUYS I CAN T WATCH THIS

Nat: Fuck this

Nat: I'M HURT

Giulia: IM HURTING

Nat: how can americans watch it with commercial breaks?

M: Burning off your soul? You'll run out soon enough.

Giulia: i have no idea what to do

Giulia: How dare u

M: I am the commander of the host!   I am the cleanser of worlds!  I will not be challenged by a child!

You are a drama queen , that’s what you are

Nat: Of course

J: I'm not a child! I'm the son of Lucifer. I'm a Hunter. I am a Winchester!

Giulia: JACK

Zee&Nat: I am a Winchester

Nat: OH did he just swallowed Michael's grace

nat doN’T BE NASTY

Giulia: JACK IS GOING IN THAT BOX JACK IS SO GOING IN THAT BOX

J: Michael is dead

I don’t trust it

Nat: OH WINGS

Nat: I'm confused

Giulia: I DON T LIKE THIS

[after credits comments]

Giulia: PROMO. NOW

Giulia: AHAHAHA

Zee: What??!!

Giulia: NEXT EP IS GONNA BE FUN

Nat: I'm confused

Nat: Someone hold me

Zee: There there pats your back

Giulia: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT EP. IT JUST HURT ALL THE TIME .i’m sweating

Nat: I have no idea and I didn't like it

Zee: Hello. Are you new to SPN ?

Nat: What Michael is dead? Are we supposed to believe that?

Zee: No

Giulia: Jack worries me tho. And ya know the last ep of the season is called “Jack in the box”

Zee: Don’t go there

Giulia: How I cannot

Zee: Don’t know. Just don’t

Giulia: FUCK EVERYTHING THAT WAS A ROLLERCOASTER AND IM STILL ON IT

Zee: You’ll never get off

Giulia: That what he said

Zee: Stop it

Giulia: Fuck u all

And fuck spn

And dean

And sam

And cas

And fucking jack

I can t

*throw tables out the window*

.

.

.

If you want to get tagged in the future ones send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @wayward-angelgirl @destiel-honeypie     @mariekoukie6661     @dragontamerm      @closetspngirl   @rainflowermoon    @mattiecat      @bunnybaby121115  @aliaitee2   @jacks-word-of-the-day    @4evamc      @dammitsammy    @legendary-destiel  @winchesterprincessbride   @destielhoneybee   @castiellover20  @jacks-word-of-the-day @ravenhg @evvvissticante 

[deluxewhump]

Frathouse Boxboy: Cam and Zee- Kiss

content warning: dubcon kissing, intimate whumper (sort of, no whump happens here though) dehumanization, the brothers making Z2 behave like a dog, cam’s internalized homophobia. 

*****

Zee is warm, a pleasant weight against his arm. He’s canted towards him, even though now he has to turn his neck to ninety degrees to watch the laptop screen. He does so like a cat, following movement, just a little out of focus. Trying to read causes him to scrunch his eyes shut and whimper, so he avoids it, zoning out just enough that it won’t hurt him to look at the screen.

“How is that even comfortable?” Cam asks, clicking the answer to number 75 on the quiz. C. His own eyes are getting heavy, but the assignment is due at midnight, ten minutes from now. 

Z2 makes a non committal sound in reply, cheek pressed against Cam’s shoulder. He’s heat-seeking, hungry for a friendly touch. 

Zee understands the world as hostile or soft, existing for him only in extreme or another.  If he can get a soft touch, a kind word, he can convince himself which one he’s currently in. He needs allies and tries his best to make them, though some of the brothers are impossible to please.

 He was extra grateful tonight to be extracted from them. Cam took pity on him, pulled him from their bored ranks before they did anything worse than make him drink out of the “doggie dish” and walk around on all fours so they could laugh and take videos on their phones. They’ve done it before, plenty of times, mock-barking at him and “teaching” him tricks with the campus newspaper rolled tight in their fists. Roll over, Z2. Sit, stay. Paw. No, other paw! Bad boy. Thwack. 

“Alright.” He’d said, patting his leg to Call Z2 over. “This way, Lassie, training time’s over.” The boys had laughed as Z made his way to Cam’s side on all fours, because no one told him he could get up and walk like a person yet. 

No one argued with him, told him to leave Z2 with them. Cam knows if he behaves like he is in charge, most of the time it goes unchallenged. It hadn’t taken him long after pledging to discover the trick he’d been using for years worked here, too. 

He pulls the scrollbar to the bottom to see how many questions are left on the quiz. 90 total. He sighs, scrolling back up to number 76. 

“What… what’s wrong?”

Cam smirks, going to the next question. Zee only asks because he’s concerned Cam’s impatient sigh was about him. His insecurity is so obvious sometimes it hurts. Did I do something wrong? 

“Nothing.” Cam assures him. “You’re good, relax.”

“...Cam?”

“Shh. Give me five minutes.”

Zee cringes, whole body tensing.

“Dude this is due in like two seconds and I gotta get it done. Tell me after.” He adds, trying to soften his tone. He doesn’t need Zee to get all weird tonight. He’s tired, and he’s got an eight AM class tomorrow. Numbers 77 through 82 are a breeze, right from the chapter. Zee barely breathes against him as he finishes, hits submit with a minute to spare. 

“Okay. What’s up?”

Zee is more hesitant now, even after the tiny reprimand. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Cam closes his laptop, sets it to the side. “Nothing, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you.” He looks up with big eyes. There’s a softness about him, despite everything. Even the little flashes of anger that Cam sees don’t stay, they melt away into this. 

Cam could tie Z2 over his  desk and take his blowtorch lighter to him and he’d still be apologizing deliriously later, seeking approval. He’d looked so comically sincere earlier on his knees for Paul and Tyler and Michael, holding his hands at his chest how they showed him, a mock puppy dog in his collar and basketball shorts. Zee knows all too well there’s nothing stopping any of them but each other— Lord of the Flies and this is their island. 

He begs Cam to drop it with his eyes, the weariness of all his I’m sorrys in a look.

“Alright, don’t tell me, then.”

Zee looks as if he’s been slapped.

“But you don’t need to be so scared, okay?” Cam adds, dropping his voice as if someone might possibly hear. “Not when it’s just us.”

Zee’s eyes widen at that, hopeful. Is this what Alex sees? He wonders what Alex says to him in private, if Zee snuggles up to him so unselfconsciously, too.

 Cam swallows, dropping his eyes over Z’s mouth, his auburn hair grown back out over his ears, his forehead. He gets why Amber likes him, why she asked to keep him for a weekend. He imagines Zee with a pile of sorority girls around him like fawning mermaids, touching and cooing, how flustered he must’ve gotten. 

Deciding to lean in is like jumping from a ledge into freezing water. He hesitates, and halfway down he can’t believe he’s done it. 

Zee’s mouth is soft, softer than he thought it would be, like a girl’s. He whimpers softly into Cam’s mouth and Cam almost pulls away until Zee kisses back, the barest hint of pressure. It was a noise of pleasure, Cam realizes, bringing his hand up between them slowly  so not to spook him. He slides his fingers over Zee’s jaw, cups his smooth skin in his hand to better kiss him, to feel how real he is, how human and boy and... Zee.

He pulls away an inch, looking down his own nose at Z’s face, tilted up so willingly. He’d imagined this before, some faceless guy in the dark somewhere at a party, bruising and breathless with rough hands in hair, raking over clothes, the scrape of teeth, an insistent tongue. 

This was something else entirely. Tender. A different sort of hunger. Cam has the sudden sharp urge to shove Z away, to find the cruelest words he can and hurl them at him, to protect himself from whatever bridge he’s crossing, whatever place is being stamped into his passport there’s no coming back from. 

But Zee is sitting perfectly still, waiting, eyes lidded and heavy. His lips are parted, full and kissed-pink. He’s...trusting. Willing. Leaning his face into Cam’s palm. Cam leans in again instead and presses their lips together with the utmost gentleness. Zee’s sweet as before, pliant. 

Cam shifts his weight against his pillow and brings his other hand to Zee’s face, holding both his cheeks. The sound their lips make when they part is strangely alluring to him, tantalizing in a way he’d never even thought about before when kissing girls. He’d always kissed them as long as they’d wanted, even after it got boring. It made them more likely to go along with it when he slipped a hand between them and gave their breast a gentle, kneading squeeze, or started to undo the button on their jeans. But this, this was enough. Despite the way the rest of his body was quickly becoming interested, this was overwhelming in itself. 

 He pulls away to get a look at Zee and for a moment a flash of fear crosses his face, like he knows he’s in trouble, that this is Not Normal.

Cam just smiles gently til the other boy’s face relaxes, mirroring him.

 “Here.” He mutters, still feeling a little heady. He unlocks Zee’s collar, lets the weight of it drop into his hands. The circle of skin on Zee’s neck looks sore, chafed. His eyes flutter in relief and Cam sets the heavy leather collar on the bedside table.

He misreads, moves to crawl onto the floor beside Cam’s bed like usual. Cam catches his elbow, not missing the sharp inhale of fear.

“Stay. It’s cold tonight.”

Zee’s face is filled with thinly veiled longing, but Cam can sense the fear right behind it, like static between stations. Was the kiss a sign of intent?

“I’m not gonna do anything. I promise.”

Zee crawls gingerly back up, gets under Cam’s covers beside him. That’s twice Zee trusted him tonight, and all for what? For saving him from his brothers, for letting him sleep in a bed instead of the floor?

 He turns out the light, staring up at the darkness. The world hasn’t ended. No one even knows what they’ve done, what he’s done. It just tingles in his stomach, his fingertips. Zee’s breathing evens out and slows almost immediately, but it takes Cam another hour to find sleep. 

[warpedtourniall]

#13 but you pick the ship

“Things You Said at the Kitchen Table” 

It’s like this: 

Louis will be missing home. He does, he always does. It’s not very grown up, so he’s trying to squish it as far down as he can. He’s eating a well-known brand of sugary, American cereal. His mum would shake her head at him if she could see him. 

It’s too late to text her without her worrying. Between the time difference and the way it seems like he’s aged four hundred years since they all left for judges’ houses, it’s like he can never find the right, normal, casual time to talk to his mum. He wonders if it’s always going to be like this, now. 

He can hear somebody snoring. He listens. It’s Liam - he’s had a cold, lately, and it makes them all nervous. None of them want to cover for him during a show. 

There’s a hesitant footstep, and then Zayn is by Louis’ shoulder, tapping his knuckles against the plastic tabletop before sliding onto the bench across from Louis. Outside the tinted bus windows, there’s acres of cornfields whipping by. 

They haven’t seen anything but cornfields in hours. 

“Y’alright?” Zayn says. His voice is soft and old-sounding. It sounds like the voice of a very old, rotting tree in a forest somewhere. What a stupid thing to think. Louis must be very tired. 

Zayn looks like he’s only just woken up. There’s a gob of something in the inner corner of his eye, and Louis is gratified by it. He likes to be reminded that Zayn can look ugly, can sound terrible. Zayn can smile sleepily at him across the table and just be his friend, and it can be simple. 

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Can’t sleep, ‘sall.” 

Zayn bumps his knuckles against Louis’ and takes the cereal box from him, digging a hand in and pulling out a fistful of marshmallows. 

“‘Kay,” he says. “Let’s stay up.” 

It’s like this: 

Zayn will wander through the bus after a shower smelling like sandalwood and the undercurrent of cigarettes he never quite manages to wash off. He’s sending a text, so he keeps nearly running into things, even as Niall leans up off the couch to tug on his sleeve, keep him from tripping over somebody’s upturned duffel bag.

From this angle Louis can’t tell what he’s writing, but it must be about the size of a novel. The text box takes up the entire screen. 

He’s been going through it with Pez, since the pictures, and all. 

Louis could’ve seen that coming. It’s not that Zayn’s a bad guy, or anything. At least Louis doesn’t think so. It’s that he makes mistakes on purpose, sometimes. He’s always testing his limits. Louis thinks sometimes Zayn fucks up because he needs to know people will forgive him, and he keeps doing it, and they keep letting him, so it’s probably not going to get better. 

Zayn fills a glass of water and sits down with his knees drawn up, composing the rest of his text. 

It’s an awful thing to say, but Louis has always enjoyed being an accessory to Zayn’s exercises in self-sabotage. It makes him feel like they’re closer, like he knows Zayn in some essential way nobody else does, because they’ve seen the worst one another have to offer and come away unimpressed. 

We can do better than this, they think. There’s so much we haven’t done yet. 

It’s like this: 

Louis will be just stoned enough to feel stupid about it, but not enough to be having any fun anymore. It’ll be late, or early. He can’t remember the last time he felt well-rested. He can’t remember the last time he could say, with certainty, exactly where he stood. 

Suffice it to say he’s not taking the breakup well.

Another terrible thing to admit: Louis likes it better when Zayn’s the one really making a mess. He likes to pick Zayn up off the ground when Perrie’s trying to decide if she’s leaving for good this time. It’s always felt good to know that he treats El better than that, that they’re steadier, stronger. 

He’d felt so betrayed, so stupid, when she finally finished with him. 

Across the table Zayn is rolling another joint, his lips parted in a soft “oh” of concentration. After a moment he passes it to Louis with his lighter. They’re drinking beer, too, the piss-yellow midwestern stuff you can get at any truckstop, any time of the day or night. Zayn finishes one and crushes the can in his fist before taking the joint back from Louis. 

Two sadsacks, they’ve got the bus to themselves tonight. 

Louis thinks about how Zayn’s mouth looks, cradling the joint in two fingers as he lets out a foggy exhale. How it might feel to be the one who really fucks up, for once. How satisfying it might be, to really crack is life open like Zayn’s always doing. 

“Zee,” he says, but he chokes on the smoke and coughs, like he’s a teenager again. Zayn pushes a beer across the table and Louis gulps it. He takes a deep, juddering breath when he’s done. “Let’s go to bed,” he says. It’s there in his inflection, if Zayn’s looking for it. Louis hopes he’s looking for it. 

Zayn blinks slowly, his big doe-eyes bloodshot and wary. He knows what Louis means. 

“Alright,” he says, and they do. 

It’s like this: 

Zayn will go silent for days. It’s not like how he’s usually quiet - he’s like a cat, usually, he likes to sit in the room where the people are, even if he’s not saying much, even if he’s reading a book or drawing or fucking around on his phone. 

Aside from the soundchecks and the gigs, Louis feels like he hasn’t seen Zayn in days. He’ll hoist himself up into his bunk when they get back to the bus, and he won’t come back out until they have some obligation the next day, press or an itinerary check or whatever. 

Louis spends his nights rattling around like a marble in a beer can, alone on the bus, while Zayn sleeps or avoids him or does whatever he does when they’re not together. When Zayn misses dinner one night Louis makes him a sandwich and texts him to say he’s leaving it on the table for him. 

It’s still there when he wakes up the next morning.

It’s like this: 

Louis will feel so angry he can’t think, or speak. 

At first he’d spammed Zayn’s phone with texts, and then he’d gotten to calling him, endless, over and over again. It went straight to voicemail every time, like Zayn had turned off his phone. 

Louis cracks the mirror in his hotel room’s en suite bathroom and it gashes the side of his hand, shallow but bloody. Liam - who’d been sent as some kind of emissary to calm him down - had grabbed both Louis’ hands and held them against his own chest, not letting go even when Louis had shouted at him to fuck off. He’d gotten blood all over Liam’s ridiculous Kanye West plain white t-shirt. 

They both end up on the floor beside the marble tub, Liam cleaning Louis’ hand with hand sanitizer and a paper towel, apologizing for the sting. 

Liam doesn’t have anything to be sorry for, Louis thinks. He lets Liam say it anyway, because it seems to make him feel better. Liam holds the paper towel around Louis’s hand with both of his. 

“I miss him too, you know,” Liam says, quietly, like he knows Louis might snap at him for invoking Zayn. 

“It’s not the same,” Louis says. He doesn’t need to look to know Liam is making that wounded little boy face of his. “I don’t know how to explain it but it’s not the same, so stop pretending like it is.” 

Liam lets go of his hand and stands up, dusting himself off. “I know you’re hurt,” he says stiffly. “But you don’t get to be an asshole to the people who are trying to help you.” Louis can tell he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t get to behave like you’re the only one affected by this.” 

Liam leaves him alone, then, which is what he’d really wanted. It’s stupid, but true: at that moment, the only person who’d know how to console him is Zayn. 

Louis pulls his phone out, hovers his thumb over Zayn’s name in his recent calls. He knows he’s not going to answer. He gets up and plugs the drain in the bathroom sink, and runs cold water until it’s full. He tips his phone into it, turns out the lights, and goes to bed. 

[madammuffins]

Character Creation

Character Creation Tag Game, tagged by the lovely @vhum s I’ll be focusing on are Abidan and Zee from Red Flags ( a work in progress that I’ve been neglecting in my slump but can be found on WattPad HERE)

1) What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.?)

Abidan: Nothing special at first. I just wanted this absolutely broken person. I think at the root of all people, the one thing everyone shares is their brokenness. We all have trauma and we all think our trauma is awful. But we aren’t awful. That’s the core idea of Abidan.

Zee: For a while, when things were going really, really bad in my life I just was like “WHat?! Am I cursed? Do I have some demon that’s just fucking things up for me?!” And... well, tah-dah! Years and mental stability later, Zee’s born.

2) Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

Abidan and Zee were both built completely with one another in mind. Their character concepts are as tightly interwoven as their abusive relationship and codependency is.

3) How did you choose their name?

I have a fetish for biblical names. I love things that aren’t common and are unique.  Also I really loved that old PS video game where you were Jen, an alien half breed that could morph into all these different forms and you have your little goblin friend who turned out to be, like, and angel trapped as a gargoyle. It was called Primal, the game. Anyway. Zee is actually short for Zephaniah which means God has hidden.

4) In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

Zee: Zee is the “dark” half of the world. A necessary evil. A natural darkness, let’s say. She lives in the split dimension from the human world that all fae/magical creatures fled to when the industrial age reached it’s peak.

Abidan: Abidan is somehow purely human and yet the embodiment of good in the human dimension (realm, whatever). Somehow magic in it’s purest form has manifested itself and taken root as his soul causing him to attract all sorts of creatures naturally mischievous.

5) Is there any significance behind their hair colour?

Zee: Yes. I’m just tired of the age old bad/evil = dark/black. I think it’s sort of poetic that she’s kind of ethereal in appearance.

Abidan: Again I’m going more for irony in making him mixed raced. Plus I love the contrast between the two.

6) Is there any significance behind their eye colour?

Zee:

Sort of. Again the imagery, I feel like her appearance is to lure people in and trap them.

Abidan: Aside from genetics not really. His eyes are a hazel just because I like the idea that he has these brilliant greenish brown eyes against darker skin but... y’know. That’s just me.

7) Is there any significance behind their height?

Zee: Currently Zee is about 5′8″, tall for the average woman - but she’s also a “demon” who can be literally anything - a ball of light, a dragon, a mass of limbs, a nightmare. She just prefers feminine shapes and decided on a human form for a particular case. She likes being taller because she enjoys the attention and the power.

Abidan: He’s 6′.5″ Kinda tall, but not super tall. His limbs are thin and don’t quite fit his body. Long and gangling. Awkward. That is absolutely on purpose.

8) What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story?

This story is kind of the outlet for all my abusive situations I guess. I mean, not outright. But it’s kinda therapeutic in a way and maybe that’s why I’m struggling with actually writing it - because it’s so stuck in me. Because it hurts. These things hurt to write about, to try and describe and translate into words - the fear, the comfort of the repetition. The expectation, being able to play a moment and know the outcome will be violence. It’s hard to... idk.

9) Are they based off of you, in some way?

Zee: Zee is complex in she is the abuse that I endured from my family and my lovers as well as the woman that I wish I had been and am striving to become. She’s in no way healthy, and she certainly is more one thing than the others.

Abidan: He is me, or how I feel like I was viewed and treated. This thing - this pathetic, awkward, ugly creature that had something people would just eat at and eat at and eat at until there was almost nothing left and yet somehow I still had more to give. This unending fount of love and support and... naivety and codependency. Abidan is everything I hated about myself and everything I try to preserve and everything I admire in other people.

10) Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

Zee: Yes. Zee don’t give a fuck. She’s just there to complete her mission - get her deal done. Sex is just sex, she doesn’t feel anything for humans or other demons. It’s not in her job description.

Abidan: I struggled a lot with Abidan. A huge part of me wanted to make him a gay man, then I wanted to do a lesbian couple, and then I struggled even more with the idea of not being able to correctly portray that and being demonized for it. So I stuck with the traditional male/female romance between the main characters, however it’s a gay romance that sparks the beginning of Zee’s spiraling abusive behavior.

11) What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: Writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

All of it. Like, I know these characters. I know them intimately. i write them in my head daily. But actually forming their story is... difficult and I don’t know if it’s a mental hangup or if it’s emotional... so I’m not going to push myself.

12) How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

Their story is almost completely finished in my head. It’s just not written.

13) If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

Zee: (1) She is not ‘evil’, she is a creature of her world. Her behavior is normal and expected. “What is chaos for the fly is normal for the spider.” is very much a quote that defines the difference between their worlds, humans just happen to be the flies. (2) She is NOT healthy, she is NOT ‘good’. She is not ‘right’.

Abidan: (1) Everything that can go wrong will go wrong for him (2) Everything is his fault always all the time and he just wants someone to love him

14) What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

Zee: She is always vexxed about the fact that she can’t be a shadow.

Abidan: The most mundane things turn into disasters and it’s so great.

15) What is something about your OC can make you cry?

Zee: She will never experience a good relationship. She wants one, some part of her craves it. She’ll never have it. Never.

Abidan: He’ll always love Zee. Always. He’ll hate her for the rest of his life but it will always be his fault and he’ll always blame himself and he’ll spend every moment over analyzing and replaying every detail thinking and rethinking... because if he had just done something, anything, different then maybe they would still be-

16) Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

Not yet. I mean, all the dark tones are difficult but I don’t regret them.

17) What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

Zee: She’s got these amazing moments where she’s so good and decent and it make you wonder... “Why?”

Abidan: Fuck this kid is an honest to God romantic.

18) What is your favourite fact about your OC?

Zee: I’ll never get over the fact that she was a dragon for a few hundred years.

Abidan: He’s such a fucking marshmallow. Just a soft, sweet guy

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