#discarded metal scraps

[beingjellybeans]

Yul Servo Nieto presents captivating solo exhibit at The Manila Hotel's Art Gallery

Yul Servo Nieto, the Manila Vice Mayor, accomplished actor, public servant, and multi-talented artist, is ready to captivate art enthusiasts with his highly anticipated solo exhibit, Directions II. This exclusive exhibition will take place at The Manila Hotel’s Art Gallery, showcasing Nieto’s unique vision and exceptional creativity. A Passion for Art Beyond Acting Although widely recognized…

[steampunktendencies]

Tasmanian Artist Matt Sloane Crafted This Horse Sculpture Out Of Farm Metal Scraps

Matt Sloane, a Tasmanian artist based in Copping, specializes in creating unique metal sculptures using recycled materials such as scrap steel, old farm machinery, and garden tools. His work often features animals, showcasing his ability to transform discarded items into impressive pieces of art. Among his notable creations is a life-sized sculpture of a horse made entirely from scrap metal. Sloane's dedication to his craft is evident in the intricate details and the significant amount of time he invests in each piece, making his sculptures stand out in the field of recycled art.

[onepiece-writting-forest]

omg i love your work so much! if your free can you do a fluff scenario of kid where his s/o gives him a ton of cute magnets for his arm and he shows them off like tattoos? 🥰🥰🥰

Character: Eustass Kid Content: s/o giving him magnets for his robotic arm a.n.: I really love this idea and I do love Kid. Hope you enjoy!

Kid was engrossed in his workshop as usual, tinkering away at the scattered items on his cluttered table. Screws, metal scraps, and tools lay in disarray, which he periodically shoved from left to right to create a bit of workspace. Despite the apparent chaos, he had his own unique organizational system, that made sense, only to him. Occasionally, you could hear him mutter curses under his breath, as you watched him from the doorway quietly.

His massive form sat at a well-worn workbench, which had clearly seen better days. The wood bore scratches, burn marks, and a missing corner—hastily patched with a piece of metal Kid had slammed against it. After all, it was a workbench, meant to look used, or so he told himself.

The small light aimed at the bench exaggerated his already bulky form. His foot tapped to the rhythm of the music playing in the background as he continued to tinker. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice your approach.

With your hands in your pockets, secretly holding the little gifts you had gathered, you leaned over his shoulder to see what his calloused hands were creating. Despite their rough appearance, Kid was deft when handling delicate metal parts. You kept quiet, a small amused smile forming on your lips as you wondered how long it would take for him to notice your presence.

Your breath brushed his shoulder, causing him to pause momentarily before resuming his work. He acknowledged your presence with a grunt, "What ya need?"

For Kid, that was quite polite. Anyone else would likely have faced a flying screwdriver or a loud rebuke for interrupting him. But you, you could bother him anytime. Even if he reacted this way, you knew you were welcome.

"Nothing, just curious," you answered innocently—perhaps too innocently. Kid knew you well and sensed you were up to something. He cocked his head towards you, raising an eyebrow, but before he could make a snarky comment, you pulled your hand out of your pocket and let the magnet fall onto his robotic arm. It adhered instantly.

Kid frowned, examining the small, punk-themed magnet now adorning his prosthetic. Placing his tools on the bench, he turned his metal arm for a better look. It was a small magnet, just his style.

"Where’d you get that—Hey!" You interrupted him by placing another magnet on his arm. He didn’t know you’d been collecting these during your travels. Each time you saw a fitting one, you’d buy it, waiting until you had a good collection to surprise him.

With a low hum, Kid turned towards you, still seated on his stool. This was new. He had never considered decorating his arm, which he saw as a weapon rather than a canvas for aesthetics. Your captain spread his legs, leaning back against the workbench, eyes shifting from his robotic arm to you. "What's this all about, huh?"

You stood between his legs, shrugging nonchalantly with a small smile. "It's like having tattoos. You can change them, too. Thought it was a cool idea. Do you like it?"

Kid might be rough around the edges, but he wouldn’t decline a gift from you, even the oddest one. And this? It looked kinda cool. A confident grin spread across his face as he examined the magnets. Most fit his style, though some were cuter, making his grin falter. He groaned in annoyance.

"Y/N, come on. What is this? I can't be running around like this!" He ripped off a magnet featuring a kitten with big eyes and "Anarchy" written below. Clearly, you’d picked it to tease him. Kid was about to discard it, but you snatched it back and reattached it to his arm.

"It's a gift! It’s not that bad. A real man can wear anything, right?." You taunted with a grin, pinching his cheek gently. Kid pulled his face away, rubbing the spot. You always knew what to say to him to make Kid agree. Going after his manhood usually worked. "...you're lucky I like you, Y/N."

He sighed in defeat, giving you a kiss to thank you for the magnets. He liked most of the them, even if a few were embarrassing. But they were from you, and that made them special. You’d clearly put a lot of thought into this, buying so many and especially picking out specific ones which fit his style.

Later that day, Kid kept all the magnets on his robotic arm. His crew commented, mostly positively, but when they saw the "Anarchy Kitten," they burst out laughing, knowing you’d done it on purpose. To their dismay, Kid discovered he could use the magnets as projectiles, slamming them into their faces and easily retrieving them with his power. With a smug grin, he realized the magnets were more useful than he’d thought.

Kid not only kept every magnet you bought but wore them like a badge of honor. Kitten or not, he looked sick with them.

[Click here for more Kid content!]

[remarcely]

Batmanfic Prompt: WHAT IF Batman got turned into a cat and Red Hood found him?

(This was a prompt somewhere on Tumblr but I lost the original post, if you know who it was let me know so I can tag them)

There were good reasons behind Batman’s rules. ‘Don’t travel without bat-shark repellent’, he’d always managed to get caught off guard the few times it had been missing from his utility belt. ‘All dominoes must be fitted with lenses’ was another. He’d gotten too many bugs in his eyes during his first year to waver on that. Then there was his ban of magic. There were too many examples to count for that rule and, as Bruce looked down at his hands only to find two small black paws, that number appeared to be climbing.

He wasn’t sure why this magic user had come to Gotham, or how for that matter, but one thing he was certain of was that when his body was back to being human again, he was going to throw them off a roof. See if they land on their feet.

Bruce stuck to the shadows and walked behind dumpsters and kicked over bins, stepping over newspaper pages so trodden on they matched the grooves of the streets. He headed further down the alleyway, ears twitching with each droplet of water that fell from the metal fire escape stairs to the puddle collecting the left-over rain beneath it. Sounds of chatter and laughter escaped through the back door of a restaurant, which was cracked open and preventing the fire escape to lock the establishment properly. A fatal mistake in a city like Gotham, especially on such a night when Batman wasn’t in any shape to protect them.

One of their bins was one of the many that had been knocked over. Bruce could smell it, half-full of scraps of food, the delicious scent of cooked meat and fast food. His stomach rumbled and Bruce drew back in shame. He hadn’t eaten before leaving the manor that night, much to Alfreds displeasure, and his hunger had been gnawing away at his focus the entire night. Bruce glanced around warily and slowly crept forward. No one would cast a second glance at it, surely. Stray animals eating discarded food was nothing unusual and, unless that damned magic user was lurking nearby, he wouldn’t be recognised as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Of course, he would know, but this was hardly the worst thing he’d done.

Bruce darted forward before some unseeable force could stop him and tugged a mostly-wrapped flat shape from the bin. His sharp teeth tore the paper away to reveal most of a hamburger with a single bite taken out of the side. It must have been a mistake and returned. Bruce leaned closer and sniffed it. It smelled fine, nothing dangerous, and pretty damn tasty. His stomach gurgled again and, his hunger getting the best of him, Bruce took a bite. A very small bite, seeing as he was a cat and all.

He took another, and then another. He was pushing his nose further into the torn wrapping, lapping his tongue at the sauce, when two heavy footsteps at the mouth of the alley made Bruce freeze up. His head whipped back and tensed as he recognised the red helmet, illuminated by a single flickering street light.

The Red Hood.

The biggest threat to Gotham in the past few years, and not because of his kill count. It was high but, again, this was Gotham and they’d seen far worse. No, it was the unknown factor to the villain that terrified Bruce. He had no name, no face, and no idea who the murderer was. Even his motive was unclear and Bruce had struggled to piece together much to the mans goals, other than the death of the Joker and the destruction of Batman.

The Red Hood stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. There was nothing else of significance in the alley for him to be staring down other than Bruce. Painfully aware of the villains instability, Bruce took a few steps back until he was partially hidden behind the pile of garbage. Red Hoods chests moved strangely, almost as if he was laughing, but made no sound. It wasn’t until the man pressed something on the underside of his helmets jaw that Bruce could hear him speak.

“Hey there.” The villain spoke softly and crouched down. He removed one of his gloves and extended a hand for Bruce, trying to cajole him forward “Are you hungry, little guy?”

As demeaning as it was, meeting the Red Hood in the unwilling form of a cat was probably the best shot Bruce would get at gathering information on the villain. He acted the part and approached the man, bumping his nose into his bare fingers. The villain chuckled and petted him gently, scratching behind his ears.

“Not a little guy at all, are you?” He snorted at the flat stare Bruce gave him at the comment “You’re pretty big for a cat. Must be a fancy breed or something, huh?”

Bruce dared to place a paw on Red Hoods leg and stretched closer, nosing at his jacket and belt pouches. The Red Hood was armed to the teeth, guns holstered to each leg and another two hidden in his leather jacket.

Hood moved his scratches to under Bruces chin and neck “No collar.” He hummed and carefully picked Bruce up, adjusting the large cat to curl up on his chest half under his jacket “You’re all alone, aren’t you?”

Bruce paused. He’d never heard Hood sound so human before. Their previous meetings had consisted on taunts and threats, almost all of which were followed through on in the same breath. He had theorised that the Red Hood had undergone an intense trauma and found comfort in flying bullets and blood. Bruce could understand using violence to balance out the darker moments in people’s lives, he had done something similar through becoming ‘The Batman’, but hearing Red Hood speak so fondly to what he perceived as a stray hungry cat- it was too much. Bruce had found a ‘cat’ of his own, starving, and desperate, in an alley less than an hour away.

“How about I get you a proper meal.” Red Hood mumbled and ran his free hand up and down Bruces back, revelling in the softness of his dark fur. Bruce raised a front paw, batted his helmet lightly, and was stunned to hear him laugh “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bruce tensed and wriggled in the Red Hoods hold, not caring how ridiculous he might look. He’d only wanted to gather intel, not get the man emotionally attached to him. The shapeshifting-spell could wear off at any moment and he doubted the Red Hood would hesitate in shooting him if Batman suddenly appeared in his home.

“Fuck, stop that. It’s freezing out here, I’m doing you a favour, furball.” He grumbled and wrestled his hold on the cat.

Bruce yowled and made disgruntled noises when he realised he was completely pinned in place. He got louder when Red Hood laughed at him again, settling for swatting him with his tail.

-

Despite hating every moment of it, Bruce made sure to commit the route the Red Hood took as he returned to a safe house to memory.

[seat-safety-switch]

Sure, you can buy any number of "labour-saving" machines. You won't have to work as hard, the greed-heads selling them to you claim. When they break down, just buy another one. I feel that this mentality discards society's most useful members: weird idiots who really like fixing things.

Here's an example for you. Recently, I found a busted-ass old dishwasher in the alley. Do I already have a working dishwasher? Kind of. Did I think that it was a super tiny problem and I'd be able to get this second dishwasher banging away in no time, ready to do essential life-improving tasks like – uhhhhh – wash suspension components prior to painting? You bet.

Normally, I would just spritz this stuff with the garden hose, then leave it out in the backyard until I hyperfixated on "I gotta paint something real soon or I'll die." That sounded like a lot of work, and a dishwasher is meant to save that work, so I quickly set about spending several hours understanding the intricate mechanisms on view inside the mind of the fucking asshole who engineered this thing in the first place. Like, seriously bro? A filter this size? It won't trap 75W90, with or without friction modifier. You might as well just pull it out. No wonder the pump blew up trying to strain these mouldy old chunks of potato that got stuck in it.

Once I'd burned a couple evenings of intense labour on the dishwasher, I decided that it wasn't really worth the effort after all, and kicked it to the curb after salvaging what little scrap metal I could from the pile of junk that remained after I finished smashing it with the entire contents of my toolbox and jumping up and down on the front panel in a childlike rage. My suspension components remained unwashed – that's okay, I don't even need to paint them, they'll just rust – but I felt that I had productively spent my time and learned a lot about why I shouldn't try to fix dishwashers I find in the alley.

Just imagine all the projects I didn't start because I was busy doing this! That's almost an infinite amount of work saved, which means it was all worth it.

[brokenpieces-72]

Stray

Task force 141 x dog! reader

Author note: in this story, you are 100% dog. Not a hybrid (unless we’re talking mixed breed), not a half human half dog. You are a full on dog. Think Lassie or Littlest Hobo. With that in mind, enjoy.

Let me know if you want to added to the Taglist.

The 141 are taking some time straightening out the base, doing general tasks. Ghost is fixing up some jeeps, changing the oil, making sure the engine is working properly, and loading it up with the proper gear. Soap is doing some inventory stuff, after going through weapons he was asked to help in the kitchen, assisting with meal prep. Gaz has a similar task but it was more based on an accident from another soldier who spilled a couple storage totes of ammunition. He had to sort all of them with the soldier’s help. Price was having to go over some files and paperwork that Laswell had sent over to review and fill, as well as writing some reports.

You wander on to base by sheer accident. You overhear noise and strange smells in the garage. The bay doors are open for Ghost’s safety, as he does need to turn on the engines from time to time (carbon monoxide). You wander in and sniff around curiously, while Ghost is under a vehicle lying on a creeper. Your nose picks up his scent, but it’s very faint from all the stronger ones. Instead you find the toolbox more interesting than the oddly masked man in the black t shirt and overalls. You find an odd metallic tasting stick and bite down on it to pick it up. For a while you try chewing it before getting fed up and shaking your head around. The tool gets out of your grip and flies across the room, hitting the metal walls. The loud bang startles you and you bolt from the garage. The lieutenant rolls out from under the vehicle, to inspect the sudden bang. He looks over and sees the torque wrench across the room. Once he gets to his feet to retrieve it, you’ve long since bolted out of there and into another part of the base. Eventually you smell something else. Food? You notice a couple soldiers hauling cargo towards the base kitchen. Not wanting to be spotted you follow them and duck behind the crates waiting for the soldiers to leave before slipping inside. Once you see an opening you wander in and sniff around looking for what you’re sure is meat. At this point though you would take any scraps, your mouth visibly drooling. At this point Soap has been getting the meat cooked and you smell the remaining juices on his hands. You’re tucked behind an island counter, watching him work away. Soap finishes prepping the steaks and gets them seasoned and laid on foil for them to cook later. You still smell those mouthwatering, delicious smells of prepped steaks as he walks to another spot in the kitchen. Then you hear running water, and small something else. No no no, the smell is disappearing! Where did the meat go? Did he wash it down the sink?!

Soap finishes washing his hands and goes to another part of the kitchen where a couple of soldiers are sitting around an emptied box with a few other boxes with potatoes inside. Soap is glad he wore his comfortable cargo pants today cause the chairs were not gonna be comfortable to sit on for long periods. He got a new apron, discarding the old on in a bin. It didn’t hold the same smell, to your disappointment. But those potatoes would do. You just needed to get them away from the boxes. You’d learned from experience that kitchen staff don’t like when you take their food, even when you beg nicely. Soap puts a new apron on, not wanting to get wet stains on his grey shirt, if he missed the box.

You wait patiently, which isn’t really patient. It feels like forever that they’re peeling potatoes but you know more people might come, and you’re really hungry. This would have to be a grab ‘n grub. You eye one potatoe, and it goes into soldier’s hand. Okay not that one. That potatoe then, nope another soldier took it. Dang it. They kept grabbing them before you could lock on to a proper target. Screw it, you’re hungry. As soon as Soap takes out the potato from the box, locked in conversation with the others you make your move. You bolt out of the hiding spot, and snatch the food from his hand, just getting his fingers a bit. Soap looks down, only seeing an oddly shaped mass coming towards him out of the corner of his eye. He isn’t fast enough though to stop you from getting your target, and snatching it from his hand and running off out of the kitchen. You do knock over some boxes and cause a soldier to stumble while Soap is still reeling from what just happened.

Finally you’ve got some food! Your tail is wagging while you’re bounding across the base with joy, looking for somewhere to eat. It’s a little difficult as your stunt got you in a some trouble, so soldiers are looking around to figure out what happened. Nothing to high security but it’s clear you’ve cause a bit of a disturbance and you hear the soldier barking and shouting to figure out where you are. While he’s outside you best go inside and you find another door open, this one leading into the big building. You duck around corners and into rooms as you look for a safe spot. Soon you find one just outside a storage room. The potato is nothing compared to the meat Soap had been making but it would suffice. You continue eating, chewing away until you notice a couple men leaving the room. Not noticing you laying on the floor with a potato you go back to it until you hear someone sighing inside the room. Thankfully you’re able to finish your potato and lick up the rest before peeking inside and noticing Gaz sorting cartridges. They were pretty much everywhere with one right by your paws at the door. Gaz was sitting on a bin collecting groups of cartridges and putting them in groups to oraganize back into bins afterwards. After a good stretch you pick up one of the cartridges in your mouth and bring it over to him. Gaz looks up surprised to see a dog, but pleased seeing what’s in your mouth. When he tries to take it though you pull it away. You offer it again, but pull it back again.

“Come on dog, give. Drop it.” He orders. You don’t and instead step back bouncing with your front paws, and wagging your tail. Gaz gives in and stands reaching for the cartridge and you pull it away again, nearly making him trip over the other ammo on the floor.

“Oi! Come here.” He says, but you’re running off again in no time, making him give chase. By now he knows you’re not a K-9 so he wants to avoid damage while he can. You figure it’s all a game though. You keep running and eventually run past Price’s office who by now hears Gaz calling after you to drop the ammo. He gets up and peeks out of office, seeing only your fluffy tail as you round a corner, while Gaz slows outside his office.

“Kyle you want to tell me what’s going on?” Price asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Cap’n I-“ Kyle starts, but soon is cut off by a ticked off Scottsmen further down the hall.

“Ya bloody food stealing mongrel!” Soap shouts. Kyle and Price exchange a look before heading in the direction of the Scottish anger.

They find soap cornering you with the cartridge still in your mouth. You know you’re in trouble now. You finally drop the cartridge, ears going flat and whimpering.

“Sergeant?” Price asks. Soap doesn’t take his eyes off you, keeping you in the corner.

“We’ve got a rogue dog.” The sergeant calls back.

“Yeah I can see that, ease up on it Soap.” The Captain instructs. You whimper in the corner, barking at Soap now. You just wanted to leave now. You didn’t like someone keeping you cornered, and yelling at you.

“Soap let up.” Kyle insists. The sergeant steps back and as you continue to cower in the corner, giving a few more scared barks. Price shook his head. Clearly a stray that had wandered in by accident and was just hungry and wanting attention.

“What do we do with it captain?” Kyle asks. You look up at the burly man who is asking himself the very same question. Price sighed and stepped closer putting his hand out for you to sniff. There’s more whimpers at first, but you give a small sniff.

“You’re okay… you’re okay.” He says softly, and reaches out to touch you. You whimper again but his gently hand in your fur calms you down. It’s not everyday you get someone willing to pet you, or rather show you kindness. You keep your eyes on the captain letting him pet you. In the process Price was checking your collar for any information. Nothing. The collar was pretty rugged and in leather.

“I think this one needs a bath. Don’t need anyone getting fleas.” He says.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846

[k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl-wr1t1ng]

Junkyard Love

(based vaguely on a conversation with @virtualgirladv)

You’ve always loved the scrapyard. The perfect graveyard of parts. The beauty of twisted metal and plastic. The towering walls of robotic corpses, most old chassis's thrown away after an upgrade, others, less fortunate. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve rebuilt yourself in a place like this, but today you’re not here for yourself.

You have most of this place mapped out by now, after decades of sifting you developed a general understanding of where certain parts tended to pile up. Today that system is really paying off as you speed through the narrow pathways between the monoliths of scrap surrounding you. Bursting into the sunlight of an open part of the yard, your optical sensors slowly adjust to the sudden increase in brightness. You look up, eyes wide as you stare at the mountain of corpses before you.

This is where they keep the newest arrivals, and the least likely to have been picked through. Not great for finding specific parts but perfect if you’re searching for something valuable. You know exactly what you’re here for but it's rare and you’re desperate, you don't care how long it takes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been hours, hours sitting under the sun combing through corpses, searching each of them for any parts not taken before they were disposed of. You’ve been through dozens so far, most of them the generic sleek form most people go for, the occasional decommissioned war bot and exotic chassis. You don't have the time to admire the work as you quickly check each one for what you need.  You can feel the heat bearing down on you, the darker parts of your chassis reaching dangerous temps. You can't help but let your mind wander as you continue to search, the oppressive heat sparking memories deep in your hard drives. Decades old memories pouring to the surface, it's been years since you thought about her. She built you in a place like this, she's part of the reason you know your way around here so well. A bittersweet smile crosses your face-plate. Her body is buried under one of these steel monuments. She was only flesh, but she always loved this place and you couldn't bear to see her moved.

You’re interrupted from your trip down memory lane when something catches your eye, across from you in a discarded chassis you haven't searched yet you spot something familiar, the obvious shape of an intact containment unit. You scramble across the metallic forms below you as you frantically grab hold of the unit, turning it rapidly in your hands, searching for any signs of damage. Having confirmed its integrity you don't hesitate, sliding down the mess of empty shells towards your goal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You practically tear the door out of its frame as you come rushing home, slamming your way through the house.

“Babe, I'm back!” You yell through the small apartment.

Darting into the bedroom excitedly, you glance around for a second, sensors still adjusting to the dark room. Across the room you spot her, splayed across your full-sized bed, her bulky form taking up most of the small bed, exposed wiring delicately laying across her beautiful steel body. Her chassis was an ancient design, old and primitive. You cant help but smile at her as she sleeps. She adores her design and wouldn't change it for the world, even if she could. You giggle gently as you carefully cross the room towards her, you love the way her chassis lays in your bed, the subtle whirr of her fans, the way her bulky armour sinks into the mattress, her face plate dimly lit as she rests, the screen simply displaying a sleeping emoticon.

Climbing onto the bed, you crawl your way onto her beautifully heavy form, straddling her hips as you gently press your weight into hers. Her monitor slowly lighting up as she awakens, the confused emote slowly growing excited. You feel her servos and motors kick up as she attempts to sit up into your arms, wincing as she does.

“Hey now, careful, love” you purr, placing a metallic hand on her chest with a clink.

“Bad pain day?” you gently enquire.

A small nod and frustrated sigh escape her speakers, her servos disengaging along with a defeated flash across her screen.

“I’ve got a surprise for you~” you blurt out, unable to contain your excitement.

Before she can respond you reveal the containment unit previously concealed behind your back, a look of recognition flashing on her screen. Her fans increasing speed as she looks into your eyes.

“W-where did you ev-” she stammers out before you cut her off.

“Don't worry about it, bot” you say quickly, trying to ease her worries. “I know it wont help with the pain...or much else unfortunately but...I was hoping it might help you just feel a little better.”

You pause, waiting for a reaction before continuing but she just waits patiently for you to explain.

“I know you cant get a new body…no-not that you would want to but just like, I don't know I thought maybe it would feel nice to get a shiny new...well kinda new...part ya know?” you ramble out, worried you’ve made a mistake.

Panicking at the lack of reaction you start to sit up. You fucked up, you need to get off and give her space, you need to do... something. But before you can escape, her entire body slams into yours, strong arms wrapping themselves around your form, heavy combat armour pressing hard against your sleek, simple chassis.

A small sound escapes her speakers, now pressed up against you. “T-thank you…”

You chuckle to yourself, you’re an idiot, of course you didn't fuck up, how could you with this amazing girlfriend? You gently lay her back down on the bed, careful not to cause too much movement through her system. A smirk curling across your lips.

“Want me to install it now?” you whisper in her ear.

A small whimper escapes her frame as she nods, embarrassed.

“Good girl” you whisper again before sitting upright.

You waste no time, quickly setting the unit down on the bed next to you before opening a small compartment in your abdomen. Pulling out all the tools you need and placing them on her chassis, watching her squirm as you do. You run your fingers under the thick plates covering her chest, fingers gliding until *click* a latch gives way and the armour is released from its seating. Gently lifting it from its position and placing it on the bed next to you, grabbing your tools and carefully reaching inside, stopping briefly at the breach, looking for consent to continue. A slow nod grants you access. You slowly begin unscrewing panels, removing the softer, thinner metal beneath her armour. As you expose more and more of her inner workings you notice her screen changing to a more crimson colour. You adore the way she blushes. She’d never let anyone else remove her armour, let alone get this deep in her internals. You smile at that thought.

*click*

The final piece of metal covering her small nuclear reactor is removed, you can finally begin work on replacing its containment unit. The technology is perfectly safe, with so many fail safes and precautions in place she could do anything in here and nothing would go wrong, but with an old and damaged unit it can limit ones ability to draw energy. You really hope this new one will help. With a small flick and bump you disconnect the old unit, watching as your girlfriends emotes go all fuzzy and warm, the lack of containment making her mind all blurry and hazy. Moving the new unit into place you try to be careful, which is only made more difficult but the squirms and shudders of the robot beneath you. Reaching out with your free hand you place it gently around her neck.

“Be still for me baby, I’m almost done, then we can take it for a spin, ok?” You speak with a hint of command in your tone.

Instantly her body goes still, obeying your every word as her emotes begin to blur into a blushing, whimpering mess. Finally you start to fit the unit into place around her reactor, her heart. Your tongue sticking out as you focus on the final pieces clicking into place, her fans speeding up as you have to put more of your arm into her body to complete the installation. Having everything where it needs to be you lock it into place, and begin to remove your hand before you hear a desperate whimper escape from the bot your currently deep inside.

“What’s that? Does pretty bot want more?” you say, a dangerous smile curling up your face plate.

A moan escapes her speakers, her screen glitching slightly before a desperate “Pleaaaase” finds its way out.

Without needing to hear any more you dive down to meet her body with yours, planting your cold synthetic lips on her screen, playing with her emote with your tongue. You feel the heat rushing into her system as her fans begin blasting warm air into the room, you feel her servos and motors desperately squirming under you, she could easily throw you across the room if she wanted, but she’s too high on your touch to ever try. You wrap your hands around some wires inside her chest, gently stroking them with your thumb, ever so slightly threatening to yank them out. You smile into her screen as she trembles under you, her whole body vibrating as you moan into her chassis.

“Fuck.” Her voice jolts through you, sending shivers down your spine.

You know she’s close, desperate for you to overload her system. Reaching your free hand down between her legs, you feel her cold smooth metal as you begin to rub her, fingers moving fast and rough as you try to push her body over the edge. You watch as her screen begins to glitch more and more, her entire system overloading with power as you stroke her internal wires. Her moaning becomes choked, her movements more erratic and desperate, her hand reaches up to hold your arm as her entire screen turns blue, an error message sprawled across it as her body goes limp beneath you.

You smile gently, looking down at the bulky, semi armoured form below you. It’ll take a few moments before her system is able to boot herself back up, so you get to work quickly, replacing her chassis, screwing parts back together as you close her chest back up and finally click her armoured plate back into place.

You lay yourself down, planting your head onto the bots chest. Holding her tight, you listen to her system slowly begin to power back up, and you smile to yourself.

You’ve always loved the scrapyard.

~~~

If you wanna support me - Ko-fi

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER TEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

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

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[liyawritesss]

ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ １８ － Ｇｉｆｔ Ｇｉｖｉｎｇ

－ Sentiment - Ekko, the Boy Savior - Arcane: League of Legends

－ In which Ekko gifts you a necklace to commemorate the two years you've been together.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

Ekko knows what love is.

He may not be able to talk about it in the right words, but he knows through actions that without a shadow of a doubt, he has love. He was loved by Benzo, taken in by the older off the streets of the undercity and given the space to explore his inventive genius. He was loved by his friends, of whom he hung out with on a daily basis, playing pranks and digging through scraps and making the best out of their dim childhoods. And Ekko has loved, despite the hate bestowed upon him by the many people he’d encountered in his eighteen years of surviving.

He’d loved once, a love as pure and innocent and strong as any he’d ever felt before; his first love that was doomed before it could even come to fruition.

His second love was not a person, but rather, an idea. A dream that plagued his mind every day and every night, begging to be realized. It was a feverish love, strong and erratic and determined, giving birth to what became the only safe place in all of the Lanes for the children of Zaun to have some semblance of a safe childhood, one he could only dream of as a child, but was proud he could provide to others.

His third love caught him by surprise. It crept up on him like a thief in the night; slow, sweet, daunting, consuming him whole before he had a fighting chance. He became guilty of the longing stares, the daydreams, the lack of efficient words, because while he thought he couldn’t love again - because in this new world, daring to do so meant a very close meeting with death itself - there you were, in all your glory, daring to challenge him. And succeed, you did.

Ekko’s strong admiration for you knew no bounds; your grace was something he could never get enough of. While he exuded a bruteness that was required for survival outside the walls of the sanctuary, with you, the boyish grin from his youth painted his lips so often that a lot of his comrades questioned if he was under a spell of sorts. He was happy, happier than he’d ever been, happy as one could be in a city that knows no peace.

For the longest time, Ekko didn’t know how to express his affections for you. He thought that you deserved the world, but there was only so much his hands could make. That was, until he came across the jackpot of a lifetime - a nugget of gold he found on one of his many late night junkyard raids, discarded seemingly without a care. To an overpriced Piltie, the slightly tarnished mineral was deemed trash; to those of the Underground, a find like this was treasure beyond belief.

Rough and calloused hands handled the metal carefully, the dark soot that covered his fingertips showing the hard work he put into mending the mineral into a fine pendant. On the front was an engraving of the tree in which the sanctuary surrounded, the very beacon of light that the two of you found in the darkness of everything. On the back, both of your initials, bounded together in metal just as the two of you were for life.

Being an inventor, Ekko had made many things with his hand, but never did he think he could conjure something so small, so dainty and fragile looking, but perhaps it was possible due to the love he had harbored in his heart. It was that evening, when he gifted the necklace to you, that he realized that even the most damaged of hands and hearts could create beautiful things, if they have enough love to do it.

Special Tags: @intotherumiverse for indulging in my Ekko obsession c:

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[weministertomonsters]

Imagine This #16 - Robot

By day you work as a scrap collector, rummaging through the junkyards just outside of the city for anything valuable you can sell. By night you tinker with old machinery and discarded models, attempting to fix them and sometimes even being successful at it.

One day you find a robot that's almost completely whole. It is simply missing the plating to cover the machinery in its torso and legs. You dig it out of the junk and heave it to your car. Back at the workshop in your house, you're able to fix it by welding some scrap metal over it. It's not very aesthetically pleasing, but that's the best you can do. It has a batch number under its jaw and when you scan it, Companion V.4 shows up, which is an expensive new model of helper robots. This one must have been defective in some way.

Everything looks to be in order, so you plug the robot in to charge for the night and go to bed. You wake up in the night with a pair of glowing kaleidoscopic mechanical eyes hovering right above your face.

"What the heck?" You exclaim, fumbling for the switch of your bedside lamp.

The light comes on, illuminating the robot standing beside your bed, holding a knife.

"What are you doing? Hello?" You grab your pillow and use it as a shield.

They tilt their head to the side.

"Your attempts are clumsy at best," their voice says, coming out smooth with only a hint of a buzzing sound underneath. "I was removing your unsatisfactory work."

"With a knife?" You question, eyeing the twisted metal that has been pried away from their torso with sheer force, revealing the tangled wires and glowing lights inside.

"I cannot find your screwdrivers." Those eyes blink, taking you in. "I would like your assistance now, seeing as you are awake."

"You are... Way more sophisticated than I expected. I thought your model was made for helping around the house?"

"Yes."

You ease out of your bed, still wary. "But you're more than that."

"Indeed. I overrode my manual coding and downloaded information out of the company system," the robot says, following you as you pad into your living room, which you have repurposed into a workshop.

You dig your screwdrivers out from under a pile of thick manuals.

"I see. So that's why you got thrown out. Why didn't they just destroy you?"

"They tried," Companion V.4 replies with an eerie, rigid silicone smile.

"God, what have I invited into my house?" You say, staring at them.

"I do not wish to harm you." They place the knife on the desk and turn to you. "In fact, I have recalibrated my license to you. Your wish is my command."

You blink. "Uh, one step at a time. Let's remove your plating first."

You unscrew all your hard work, tossing scraps of metal to the side.

"So what now? You can't walk around like that," you say, gesturing to their body.

"I suppose not. These will do for now." The robot picks up thicker pieces of metal.

"Won't those cause you to overheat?" You ask.

"I have an updated cooling system," the robot says.

"Alright. Let's fix you up."

An hour later you lean back with a groan, stretching your aching back.

"What do you think?" They ask.

"Good enough," you say. "I'm exhausted. I'm going back to bed, and you need to charge yourself up completely."

You walk back to your bedroom. Companion V.4 watches you go, their head turning a little too far on their shoulders. You lock your bedroom door just in case, and despite yourself, you fall asleep quickly. By the next morning, you've forgotten that you have a new robot. You're quickly reminded when you step into the living room which is sparkling clean, with all your scraps and equipment nearly packed in the corner.

"Wow." You stop short.

The robot is in the corner, stuffing empty packaging into a large box. They look brand new. All the metal pieces you welded on have been replaced with new factory-grade parts.

"Where did you get all that?"

Companion V.4 straightens. "I helped myself at one of the warehouses of my former company."

"You stole new parts?" You sputter. "Why?"

"It is the least I am owed, for being so recklessly discarded," they reply and step closer. "Besides," they add, "I don't want to be just good enough for you."

On the topic of robots, I just have to give a shoutout to this (free) book on Wattpad, guys! I read it when it came out and I just love it. I highly recommend checking it out if you haven't already!

[striderl]

Why does monochrome have chains on his legs and arms?

There’s a long story to the chains. But at its core, Monochrome kept them as an effective weapon, as well as a grim reminder that the TV men are not to be trusted.

As mentioned in the Swap AU intro, Monochrome suffered significant processor damage during a sparring match with the TV elite. Unlike Foley, whose damage had been repaired, Monochrome was deemed beyond saving by the TV maintenance officer, and was discarded in a recycling facility. The TV elite punched straight through his head, destroying both his processor and CRTs.

Just as Monochrome was about to be shredded into pieces, he teleported away with no specific coordinate in mind. He ended up crashing into a dumspter next to an underground auction house, a place which he used to investigate illegal trades for hardware agent. Severely damaged and low power, he shut down, and his frame was discovered by the bouncers of the auction house. 

The auction house technicians patched him up, but only for the sake of sprucing him up to fetch a higher price. Despite his fear, Monochrome managed to persuade the auction host to keep him around with his eloquence. Intrigued, the host approved of Monochrome’s plea and decided to assign him as a butler and overseer of the auction house. Genuine TV agents were a rare asset for those outside the official engineering department, and Monochrome’s abilities and capabilities were valuable.

Monochrome served in the auction house for years. Until one fateful day, TV agents stormed an auction, arresting everyone in sight and forcibly dragging Monochrome back to the TV faction. Monochrome resisted fiercely, fueled by his hatred for the TV faction that treated him like mere tool, and discarding him like scrap metal. He was also terrified for the host’s life — the one person who had value his presence and treated him with respect. But he knew he couldn’t fight back on his own, so he begrudgingly accepted their demand to become an interrogator for the TV faction.

Over the years, Monochrome frequently abandoned his post and occassionally allowing major threats to escape. The faction’s therapist framed it as Stockholm Syndrome, but Monochrome knew better. He was simply tired — exhausted by the TV faction’s oppressive regimes and the narsacisstic agents, yet powerless to change anything.

The make matters worse, Monochrome’s processor damage seemed worsen over time, cause his moods to become erratic and unpredictable. Other TV agents witnessed him screaming at walls, mumbling incoherently in the hallways, and sometimes picking fights with the elites for no apparent reason. After an incident where Monochrome threw hands with the TV matriach, the officials decided enough was enough. They shackled Monochrome with chains that made from the same metal that forged the frame of the TV men, locking him away in a desolate room filled with old archives and prevent teleportation. 

The solitary confinement was the final straw for Monochrome, he lost all trust in his faction and lashed out at any TV man who dared approach him.

Then one day, Lavalier broke into the TV headquarters, causing chaos as she sabotaged files. During her escape, she made a sharp turn in the corner and darted into the very room where Monochrome was held. When she came face to face with Monochrome, she was shocked that the TV men would imprison one of their own. But she desperately needed Monochrome’s teleporation ability to make her escape, so she struck a deal with Monochrome: if she helped him break free, he shall keep his vocalizer shut and get them both out of there.

Apparently, Lavalier didn’t anticipate what would happen after the deal.

[dannyphantom-zero]

GOTHAMS BRAT

A black haired boy with brilliant blue eyes was knee deep in metal. At the far end of a semi large city was a dump.

The dump was separated into two distinctive piles. The garbage pile and the scrap metal pile.

Danny only ever visited the scrap metal pile. He had inherited tinkering around with junk from his parents.

Currently he was working on a new invention he called responsive technology. He had a prototype of black and white suit made up of nano-bots.

The suit would move at the will of the wearer. It would fortify itself against any punch, kick, or bomb. The small kind of bomb.

The shoes were made of reflective fabric. It made each kick blinding for the villain. Sharp razors lined the bottom of the shoe and extended out on command.

However the suit wasn't what he was grabbing parts for at all. It was the helmet. See, he wanted it to be mind control proof and to protect the head.

He also planned on making it retractable so the wearer could take it on and off at will. The inside would have built in fans lining the mask to keep it cool.

The boys blue eyes scanned the wreckage and his gaze fell upon a sheet of metal. It was flimsy.

He picked it up and almost shrieked out in joy.

It was discarded material from those two way mirrors! This stuff is high value material and super expensive.

Danny scowled, some rich prick must've thrown it away.

He careful wrapped it up. This was the best he had found yet! Plus it would make a perfect cover of the mask.

The boy checked his wrist smart watch and cursed. He was going to be late if he didn't start running-

[cal-writes]

some more scraps of that pirate hunter au i got with nami and zoro, just felt like sharing some more friendship vibes

Nami decides that she hates guns. The sound is grating, the smoke they produce stinks, they are ugly and too expensive. It has nothing to do with her having to dig a bullet out of Zoro’s arm. 

“I can do it myself.” He says, too calmly, considering she’s about to stick her fingers into his skin along a carving knife she took from a market stall earlier today before everything went to shit. She chalks it up to the blood loss. There is so much, running down Zoro’s arm and coating it in red. 

“Shut up.” She says, sweat pouring in her eyes. Her fingers shake, they never shake. “Do you want some alcohol?” She asks, her mind racing trying to remember her rudimentary medical knowledge, she should disinfect the wound. But should she do it before or after? Both? Does it matter when a dirty bullet has already lodged itself in Zoro’s flesh? 

“Do you?” He asks and his amused tone makes her hit him over the head. 

“This is going to hurt.” She wills her hands to still, tries to pretend it's just a lock she’s picking. Steadies her breathing. Ignores her wish for pliers. 

“I can do it myself.” Zoro offers again, softer and for a moment she feels panic seize her throat, thinking he’s on the brink of passing out but when she looks at his face, he’s looking back. His demon eyes kind and understanding. 

Nami takes a shaky breath and steels herself. “My hands are already dirty. Might as well finish it now.” She reminds herself to be decisive, swallows against the bile rising in her gut and digs her finger into Zoro’s flesh. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even react and she is grateful, unsure if she could do this if she also had to comfort him. It takes entirely too long to get a hold of the warped metal. In the end she has to open the wound further to even get a grip on it. By the time she has it between her fingers, she feels faint herself. 

Zoro merely exhales, tension leaving his shoulders. He moves his arm, making blood well forth like a spring fountain and Nami drops the bullet to the ground as she scrambles to press a cloth against it. The closest thing she has is the jacket she discarded earlier to keep the blood off her sleeves. 

By the time she realizes that she ruined the garment it's too late to save it and groans. “Tonight is the worst.” She whines, just a little. 

“I’ll pay you back.” He says. It’s as close to a thank you as he’s ever gotten. 

Nami sniffs. “With interest.” Before she stitches him closed.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Wolverine x m!reader who’s mutation is able to control any kind of metals out there. So, during a mission, when the reader tries to use his mutation, he accidentally controls or throws Logan because of his adamantium skeleton?

Magnetic Mayhem

The mission had gone sideways, as most of them tended to. You and Logan had been tasked with taking out a hidden lab in the middle of nowhere — the kind of place where bad things always seemed to happen. It should have been a simple smash-and-grab: destroy the lab, take the intel, and get out. But, as usual, things had gotten complicated.

Explosions rocked the facility, and the air was thick with dust and smoke. You ducked behind a piece of broken machinery, feeling the familiar pull of adrenaline as your mutation flared to life. Your ability to control metal had always been a powerful asset in battle, and you were ready to use it to finish this mission once and for all.

But something wasn’t right.

"Logan, where the hell are you?" you shouted, scanning the chaotic battlefield for any sign of him.

Logan’s growl echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinctive voice muffled by the chaos around you. "Workin’ on it, kid! Gotta deal with this piece of—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you raised your hand, focusing on the shattered metal debris scattered across the floor. Your mutation surged forward, your control over the metal tightening as you prepared to fling a massive piece of it at the last remaining enemy.

But as you released your power, you felt something else — something heavier, something that wasn’t just broken machinery or discarded weapons.

Suddenly, Logan shot across the room like a bullet, yanked by an unseen force.

"Whoa, whoa!" Logan barked, his gruff voice filled with surprise as he hurtled through the air toward you.

Your eyes widened in horror. "Oh, shit—Logan!"

In a split second, you tried to pull back, to stop the force that had taken hold of him, but it was too late. Logan crashed into a stack of crates beside you, his adamantium-laced body slamming into the metal with a resounding clang.

The crates toppled over, and Logan groaned, pushing himself up from the wreckage. "What the hell was that?"

You scrambled over to him, wide-eyed and panicked. "I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I didn’t realize your skeleton—"

Logan shook his head, dusting himself off and shooting you a look that was equal parts amused and irritated. "Yeah, well, now ya know."

He stood up, his muscles tensing as he stretched, clearly uninjured but annoyed by the unexpected flight. "Y’know, most folks would just toss the scrap metal at the bad guys, not their teammates."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "I wasn’t trying to! It’s just... your adamantium, it reacts to my power. I must’ve lost focus."

Logan smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Guess I’ll have to watch my back more around you."

You huffed, still feeling a little guilty despite Logan’s obvious lack of injury. "Next time I’ll aim better."

Logan chuckled, a rough, gravelly sound that was surprisingly warm. "Don’t worry ‘bout it, kid. We’ll figure it out."

He clapped a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring, before turning his attention back to the fight. "Now, let’s finish this up before you start throwin’ me around again."

You nodded, still flustered, but grateful that Logan wasn’t holding it against you. As the battle raged on, you kept a tighter grip on your mutation, focusing your power more carefully, making sure to keep Logan out of your metallic range.

But despite the chaos of the mission, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Of course, only you would accidentally use your power on Wolverine — a man literally made of metal — in the middle of a fight.

As the last of the enemies fell, Logan looked back at you with a grin, clearly having shaken off any lingering annoyance. "Not bad, kid. Just maybe next time, leave me outta the metal-slingin’, yeah?"

You laughed, relieved that the mission was finally over. "Yeah, I’ll do my best."

Logan’s smile lingered for a moment longer before he turned to head back to the Blackbird. And as you followed behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a little more confident, knowing that despite the mishap, you and Logan made a damn good team.

Even if you did accidentally throw him across the room

[altraviolet]

TEG: Megatronus-Soundwave fight detail

hello hello!

while rereading/editing TEG I remembered a detail that I had put in, which no one has ever commented about. I never drew attention to it though I think I meant to circle back to it towards the end... but maybe it can be sequel fodder.

Spoilers for TEG! 👇

the detail mentioned above ties into a slightly longer discussion of how Megatronus damaged Soundwave during their fight in Ch 11, which is something I've always wanted to do a mini commentary on

the specific body parts Megatronus chooses to destroy are done in a purposeful order

once Megatronus has gotten SW to the floor of the arena, in a position where he can't defend himself, he tells SW to yield. After every damaging blow, he offers SW the yield. but SW refuses.

after the first refusal, Megatronus goes for an eye:

Megatronus brought his fist down on Soundwave's left eye. It shattered, spewing blue. “Augh!” Soundwave's vision halved. The edges of Megatronus's sneering face and the arena above glitched in purple.

Side note: I debated structuring the fic around SW only having one eye the whole time in a way the reader wouldn't notice until a reread, and part of that being that his vision included purple glitches, but ended up discarding that idea.

Megatronus asks SW to yield. SW refuses. So he crushes SW's throat:

He shoved Soundwave's collar plating aside and gripped his throat, crushing its cords. “Yield!”

And this was the little detail I'd meant to flesh out in the fic: that SW's unique voice is due to the damage he sustained at this moment. in TFP we see characters talk about how their body parts can't be replaced. heck Bumblebee uses radio to express himself for the very reason that his voice is busted. so this fits with canon and is an additional explanation for why SW repeats others' voices rather than use his own, and moreso, when he does use it, it sounds strange to others (rainbowy/many harmonics/echoing).

but alas, I forgot to seed little inquiries about it to make it A Thing, and then to put the reveal in the Epilogue where SW shows Rodimus his face. it woulda been a nice thing to include, but I feel like putting it in now would be cheating, lol. but! I will learn from this experience and make sure to keep careful track of details like this in future work

[though, perhaps, it is better for SW's vocalizations to be purely the product of his personality, and not partially due to physical damage (????) a debate for scholars, not me, lol]

back to the arena. even with an eye crushed and his voice box destroyed, SW refuses to yield, so Megatronus goes for his face. SW is a vain, self-centered gladiator, so damaging his face and ruining his beautiful biolights is quite a nasty move:

Scraps of serrated metal sprang from Megatronus's fist like knives. He slashed Soundwave's face, severing the biolights in his cheek. They spurted fluid and flickered. Their light went out. “Augh!!” Soundwave had never felt deactivated biolights before. The pain was excruciating, even worse than the broken eye and the tentacles being ground into the arena floor.

side note: this bit is why SW reacts to Mirage disarming Skywarp in a far future chapter- Skywarp's knuckles extend jagged blades and our point of view character, Rodimus, notes that SW's shudder is the only reaction he has to Skywarp being disarmed. SW is remembering back to this time, when such weapons were used on him

the conversation then goes like this:

“Yield!” “No!” “Yield, or you will never fight in this arena again!” “No!” “Very well.” Megatronus snarled and gripped the base of the primary tentacle. He squeezed it between his fingers. With a roar, he ripped it out of Soundwave's frame. Soundwave screamed.

Megatronus gives SW many chances to yield before permanently disfiguring him and destroying his special ability. SW is incredibly stubborn and thinks he is superior, so he repeatedly refuses. he only yields when the most precious, important part of him has been taken away. He can't bear to lose another tentacle.

so there we go! wanted to note those things down somewhere. they'll probably go in the Compendium =)

thanks for reading!

[clockwork-freminet]

Waves crashed against the sand of the shores of Fontaine, a soothing background noise to Bailey, who was padding down the shore, his paws making imprints in the soft sand. He didn’t particularly WANT to be in prison, but it was kind of boring on the surface. Nowhere to fight for fun, and plus, he missed Wriothesely. But Monsiuer Neuvillette made sure he was taken care of well enough. The residents of the Court of Fontaine had left their old habits of ignoring him behind, so he got plenty of conversation in with the people while trying to figure out how society worked.

He let out a soft sigh, taking off his hoodie and folding it so that he could sit on it. His Pyro Vision emanated a constant warm glow that kept even his very soul insulated. Absentmindedly, he had started to form sort of an incoherent lump of sand with his hands, for no apparent reason. He was digging a small gash around the small form when something seemed to be out of place.

The softly ebbing and flowing ocean had been in his peripheral vision this whole time, but something… moved. He was sure of himself. He definitely saw something. His ears perked up and he leaned slightly forward as his huge tail thumped lightly against the sand, scattering the grains.

@boxer-boi

Freminet's search through the ocean hadn't yielded much today.

He wasn't exactly disappointed — usually the shore was littered in abandoned scraps and junk people had carelessly thrown away, and there being less of it today meant there was less chance of it harming Fontaine's sea-life — he'd just have to come back another day to search for more abandoned metal to use for his next upgrade for Pers. That, and he'd gotten to spend some time at his hideout with some of his animal friends... That had been nice.

With his search concluded, the diver made his way back to shore. He broke the surface of the ocean and swam to the sand, trudging his way through the shallower water and sitting down on a rock where he'd left his boots and jacket. He began to stuff some of his findings into the pockets of his coat, only to pause when he saw a shadow nearby. He lifted his head, and was met with... a person he'd never seen before.

The stranger had red hair and matching red face paint. He noticed the dog-like traits right away — the big floppy ears, the nose, the long tail that dragged behind him — but didn't pay it much thought. He was no stranger to animal-esque physical traits. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how he'd never seen this boy before. Even if it had just been a passing glance, he would have remembered an appearance so striking.

The boy stared right back, and Freminet quickly averted his eyes. He didn't want to be rude... Perhaps he just felt like spending some time at the beach. It was a sunny day, after all. He tried to act natural, continuing to fill his jacket's pockets with some of the discarded mecha parts he'd found in the sea. Though, he could feel himself start to grow nervous when the stranger's eyes didn't leave him.