#projection mapping projector

[optomaprojectors]

Optoma's range of DLP home & business projectors, interactive flat panel displays, LED displays, projection screens & accessories.

[cf-12]

04/Dg SL . 0674

[samsdisneydiary]

Wonderous Journeys Fireworks Extravaganza from Disneyland's It's a Small World

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

I don't have a projector I can cast on a table or anything fancy, so instead, my players get good old-fashioned whiteboard marker on laminated snow background. Sometimes w/ my shitty rendition of maps!

[optomaindia]

Optoma Best Projection Mapping Projector

Projection mapping has revolutionized the way we experience visual content, transforming ordinary surfaces into dynamic, interactive displays. Optoma India stands at the forefront of this technology, offering some of the best projection mapping projectors in the market. Here’s a closer look at why Optoma projectors are the top choice for projection mapping in India.

1. Advanced Technology

Optoma projectors are equipped with cutting-edge technology that ensures superior performance. With features like high brightness, excellent color accuracy, and 4K resolution, Optoma projectors deliver stunning visuals that bring projection mapping projects to life. Their laser light source technology offers consistent brightness and extended lifespan, making them ideal for long-term installations.

2. Versatile Applications

Optoma’s projection mapping projectors are versatile and can be used in various settings, including:

Events and Exhibitions: Create immersive experiences at events with vibrant and engaging visuals.

Retail and Advertising: Enhance customer engagement by transforming store facades and products into captivating displays.

Museums and Galleries: Bring exhibits to life with interactive and educational visuals.

Corporate Presentations: Elevate presentations with dynamic visuals that capture attention and convey messages effectively.

3. User-Friendly Features

Optoma projectors come with user-friendly features that make setup and operation seamless. Key features include:

Edge Blending and Warping: Easily combine multiple projectors to create a seamless, large-scale display.

Flexible Installation: With features like 360-degree projection and portrait mode, Optoma projectors can be installed in various orientations to suit different spaces.

Wireless Connectivity: Simplify setup with wireless options, reducing the need for extensive cabling.

4. Energy Efficiency

Optoma projectors are designed with energy efficiency in mind. Their eco-friendly design reduces power consumption without compromising on performance. This makes them a cost-effective choice for businesses looking to minimize their environmental impact.

5. Exceptional Support and Service

Optoma India provides excellent customer support and service, ensuring that users get the most out of their projection mapping projectors. From pre-sales consultation to after-sales support, Optoma’s team is dedicated to helping customers achieve their projection goals.

Conclusion

Optoma India’s projection mapping projectors are the perfect blend of technology, versatility, and user-friendliness. Whether you’re looking to create stunning visuals for an event or enhance your retail space, Optoma has a solution that meets your needs. With their commitment to innovation and customer satisfaction, Optoma continues to be the go-to choice for projection mapping in India.

[optoma1234]

Optoma's range of DLP home & business projectors, interactive flat panel displays, LED displays, projection screens & accessories.

[ekachailighting-blog]

Projection mapping, synchronising the dance with graphics....

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[artsninspo]

006 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 005

♠ summary: Thrust into leadership, Lorence battles pressure, secrecy, and an enigmatic boss—until his unexpected attentiveness causes things to heat up more than expected ☕.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.6K

⌖ - Richmond Inc. HQ

The new demands of my position are both a gift and a curse as I’m required to expand my knowledge base and think as a leader. There’s an element of freedom that I've been robbed of in this new position. There’s no time for fresh ideas and innovation in the same way there's no freedom to make mistakes. There’s no one to ask to review the work I have - I'm the final step in the pecking order before the other’s at my level look and ultimately Richmond’s eyes scan over it. I’d be lying if I said the thought doesn’t unnerve me. Dissatisfaction on his face and the scolding that will undoubtedly follow is a nagging inevitability. I’ve sat through so many briefings that I miss doing the work. This week has been an overwhelming barrage of discourse, planning and preparation. We’ve gone over logistics and transportation which is my specialty. Monaco is a logistical and transportation nightmare but I’ve taken all the necessary notes to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Which includes sending one of my best agents there in person to scope out the scene and get the necessary measurements and blueprints. It’s my first major assignment and with my budget sky’s the limit. Consulting for the organization responsible for the formula one race's security is not something I ever considered in the realm of possibility; so I make the most of it. I add to my list of tasks and lock the documents before going over my new operating budgets. I still have money to spend but until my best guy is back I can’t be sure where the resources will be best allocated. I’m researching local charities in the area when Richmond appears in the doorway. It’s his first time stopping by all week and I can’t say I’ve missed the light eyed giant. 

“Sir” I stand.

“Cole, I’ve received preliminary drafts from all the other teams. Is there something you require assistance with?” He asks, leaning in the doorway. He’s in a white knitted sweater today looking too casual for a man like him. 

“I thought we had another week” I respond, disregarding how his arms fill out the otherwise cuddly, cozy ensemble, transforming it into something different altogether.

“I like to look over things by the project’s midpoint,” he explains, folding his arms.

“Well, I’m new and I didn’t know that” I swallow daring to meet his eyes.

“We can go over what you have for now,” Richmond says entering my office. I straighten, hating his presence and proximity. With Richmond it isn't walking on eggshells, it's like walking on glass barefoot. I stand walking over to the table and pressing the projector button. I unencrypted my files and show him what I’ve been working on. He watches attentively, his eyes scanning through the details projected in front of him.

“They’re color coded by threat level” he says perceptively interpreting the markings I have on the 3D map model of the area the races will take place in. 

“Yeah, it determines what will work in terms of an emergency exits.” I state, explaining my process.

“So you don’t only look at routes?” He asks.

“No, when I develop my plans I consider routes, danger, closures, alternate routes and transportation that is as discreet as possible while being resilient and agile” I explain and he nods zooming in on my tablet.

“You’re looking for places to land helicopters? Possible counter sniper positions.” He says interpreting my work in seconds. Impressive isn’t the word. Nothing is explicitly stated there’s just circles, dots, x’s and stars in a variety of colours.

“Yeah” I nod and he looks from the tablet back to me, with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, only for it to be gone as soon as it appears.

“You’re doing Jameson work for him.” He comments.

“I understand why our teams are separate but I think all aspects should inform each other” I swallow and his expression hardens.

“That’s not your job. It’s to take direction. No one should be fully informed of the other's actions in case of leaks. Your team needs to be agile. Keep your work to yourself” he orders going back to his military facade.

“With all the testing you still don’t trust us?” I ask and he scowls. His jaw sets before clicking as he clenches  it. 

“It’s not about trust. It’s about what a person gives away during torture. How can I protect my team from that? The rules are in place for a reason. Adhere to them” he orders again but his eyes are more sensitive. If I were a psychiatrist I could diagnose his paranoia and mood swings but as a civilian I table my judgement.

“The non patronizing way to say that is;  follow protocol Cole” I quip before he gets carried away and it ends poorly.

“I don’t care if you don’t like my delivery. At least you’ll be alive not to like it” he comments standing. I can't help the sharp look I send his way. If he were anyone else I wouldn’t put up with it. “Good work” he says finally but somehow the praise falls flat.

“Have you lost a lot of people?” I ask and the tension in his shoulders answers the question in an instant. His expression sobers. 

“I’ve seen a lot of death,” he nods. I look him over before nodding. It at least explains his incessant over preparation and commitment to structure, secrecy and preventative measures.

“I’m sorry,” seems the only appropriate response.

“You won’t have to be if you follow protocol. Your safety equipment needs to be fitted before we go wheels up, go see Cassandra. I’m scheduling you for some extra hand to hand” he says adding more to my plate.

“I don’t have time for extra hand to hand, I’m behind” I tell him pointing to the projections.

“No you’re not” he swallows. “You’ll fry your brain if you continue staring at blueprints. Movement will serve you more than sitting at your desk” he says parroting what I’ve heard from Jameson. I wonder if it's advice Jameson has commandeered from the Boss.

“Okay” I concede. RIchmond seems surprised by my concession but he nods, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Cassandra appears in the doorway and I let out a relieved breath.

“I hope you’re being nice.” she says, looking him over. Richmond doesn’t dignify her with a response. “Are you finished or can I steal Cole - her safety second skins are in” Cassandra says.

“We’re done and I have ten minutes” he says looking at his watch. I go along with them walking to his office suite instead of asking questions. Two suits wait in a box in his conference room. One is my perfect nude shade, it nearly looks like mesh but it's made of something stronger. It’s fully opaque and when I hold it up I frown wondering what in the T’Challa Black Panther, Richmond has paid for me to wear.

I raise a brow. “What’s this for?” 

“Protection, no burns, cuts or bullets can pierce it. A safety precaution” Cassandra responds.

“Try it on,” Richmond says, stepping out of the room.

“Please!” Cassandra scowls at him as she closes the door. I hold it up again and wonder what else money can buy. I head into the ensuite and I undress quickly. I step into the unitard that fits almost like a second skin. I manage the nearly invisible zipper at my side and look in the mirror. I look remarkably naked and tense up when I see shaded contouring that could pass for real hips and ass.

“Need help?” I hear Cassandra ask from outside.

“Uhh?” I respond and she giggles.

“That’s exactly how I felt - can we come in?” she asks.

“I guess” I responded, not quite sure. I remind myself I’m not naked as I leave the bathroom and re-enter the conference room as they come in. Cassandra’s eyes scan me.

“Toes are wonky” she says to Richmond whose eyes are glued to my body. 

“The suit is wonky” he comments with eyes on my breasts. “May I touch you?” he asks without making eye contact.

“Ok” I respond unsure if no is even an option and he stands behind me pulling the material taut until I can feel it on my chest and stomach like a corset. When I look behind he hes standing with a handful of the suit.

“That’s how it should fit” he tells Cassandra, sparing a look her way. The suit feels completely different with this kind of tension. He grapes lower, gathering the same amount of fabric in the small of my back. I feel like a doll in his care as he manhandles the suit. It’s oddly erotic, or maybe it’s been too long since a man has had his hands on me. He goes to do the same around my hips but there’s no stretch left. 

“Can you see if there’s any give?” he asks as if he hasn't already probably made at least five HR violations. I oblige finding some give.

“Hold it like that” Richmond demands and I wonder if he’s this bossy in bed. Girl, get your head out of the gutter!

“Cassandra test its resistance” he says and Cassandra comes over with some sort of scanner gun reading all over my body noting weak points with a red marker as well as what needs to be removed. 

“The suit has to fit like a glove, it’s most effective when the fibres are extended to their limit they interlock creating … well armour.” she explains.

“What if I have to pee?” I ask being practical.

“You’ll get a zipper once everything else fits seamlessly” Cassandra explains. It’s another level of overkill.

“Does everyone wear these?” I ask.

“They aren't required for smaller scale events, I always wear mine for the big ones” she explains. Richmond is still staring at me and it makes me feel naked, the proximity, the physical toughness, the attention. My body hums like a starving stomach craving sustenance. I’m gonna need to see a therapist for sure, I think looking away from him and back to Cassandra who clears her throat.

“Mr. Richmond, you have a call in two” she says to him and he nods, peeling his eyes from my ass. 

“Ensure it fits perfectly...Please” He says, taking one last look at me. He looks at Cassandra who nods with a smirk on her lips before leaving.

“I’m gonna go change” I announce heading into the restroom. When I get out I hand her the suit.

“Is he always so hands on?” I ask, a little unnerved.

“Hands on… he was with me but he was a lot less attentive and there was a lot more back and forth bickering until he pulled it so tight I couldn't breathe comfortably.” she discloses amused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s wrong of him” I remark.

“Terry’s like family - he’d never actually hurt me and lord knows he could” she huffs sitting on the conference table. Her disposition makes me think of them like siblings opposed to coworkers. The most toxic workplaces have the ‘family titles’ it's definitely a red flag.

“So how was your first week?’ she beams crossing her legs but my mind is on how it felt to be constricted in his hold and hugged by the suit.

“I’ve only considered quitting right now” I smile and she laughs.

“I came to your office because I was sure there was going to be fireworks. Terry was too but with how at ease he was I'd say you’re doing amazing on your first assignment. What was his feedback? I can help you decode its meaning to stay on his good side.” she smiles and I’m excited until I realize there was none.

“He just told me to stick to the protocol and that I did a good job. Oh and he prescribed extra hand to hand” I explain and her eyes light. Her smile widens like a Cheshire cat and she shakes her head.

“He’s setting me up to fail isn't he?” I ask, afraid of some humiliation ritual test.

Cassandra shakes her head. “No Lorence, it means you're keeping him up at night. He must think you're one of the best”

“I don’t copy.” I confess.

“The best agents are all the same Lorence and they never leave their people behind when shit hits the fan. He doesn't think you’ll be tripped up by the plans so he’s preparing you for the people.” she explains.

“Do I have anyone but him to fear?” I ask.

“No, that’s how I know you’re keeping him up. The guys that we’d need to fear see us as menu options - they don't know we’re trained to kick their ass and so they never have security with them. They’re easy to outsmart before things get ‘hand to hand’” Cassandra explains and it’s consistent with training. I get a reverie of the intensity in Richmonds eyes as he held the extra fabric of my suit taut, again. I never put much stock in her words before.

“I think you're wrong. Richmond doesnt look like he needs help attracting women. I’m sure you’ve had to shoo away your fare share.” I respond.

“Are you kidding?! He’s a work-a-holic. I've only seen him flirt for better access. His indiscretions are kept from me if they exist” she comments. “Come on, let's go shopping for after hours  in Monaco - I have a few party invites with an open plus one slot.” she winks and it sounds like a good way to relax and enjoy the rest of the day. Retail therapy is still therapy after all.

Cassandra and I end up in the heart of the city in stores with names that English speakers need tutorials to pronounce. Cassandra can sell salt to a snail because she convinces me to indulge in whims that are unfamiliar and then she swipes the company card stating outfits while on vacation are somehow a business expense. Paranoia makes me set aside the amounts in case it’s some test or something the Boss intends to scream at me for later. But for the rest of the night from shopping all the way to my night routine I’m a little uneasy. Terry Richmond’s ability to rattle me is unmatched. Whether in anger or cloaked kindness. The intensity of his expression is imprinted in my mind. 

I lay awake in bed slightly amused by the irony of Cassandra’s words. At least if they’re true I’m keeping him from sleeping too. It feels like some consolation for all he’s put me through. Maybe my haywire feelings are the result of something akin to Stockholm syndrome. The result of that stupid test. His gaze comes back to me again and the attention held within them. My body heats as recognition clicks into place, its reaction starts to make sense. After years of feeling unnerved and unsure I’ve read the first real emotions from him. There was real sincerity in his eyes. No resentment or animosity. Maybe hints of more complicated emotions but at its core it seemed to be pure preoccupation with my safety.

My body seems to settle at my brain's recognition of the day's events. The anxious energy leaves my body and I settle when it becomes clear to me that before all else my boss wants me to be okay. Before I take my last conscious thought, I promise to move forward with Richmond with that at the forefront of my brain.

authors note: what are you doing if you're Lorence and the boss gets all close and touchy feely? Fight, freeze, call HR - I have to know! Let me know what you think in a comment or reblog 🖤 if you enjoyed things heating up dont forget to comment, reblog and like!

007 ⇛

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[quotidian-oblivion]

Imagine this:

There is a big threat looming over Earth. The Justice League is trying to come up with a plan to defeat it. There are only a few hours left and everyone is super stressed and at their limits. Everyone's suggesting ideas but can't seem to find the right plan to defeat this Evil Force.

Tim, tiny Tim in his Robin era is tinkering with his wrist computer, trying to search something and he's close to an idea, he knows it.

Superman: Batman, you always have plans for things like this. Do you have anything helpful?

Batman: Unfortunately... this time, I don't.

Green Lantern: You're joking, right? You had several life-threatening plans filed for the superheroes of the world for "just in case" purposes, but for actual threats like these you don't?

Batman: Watch your words, Lantern. This is not the time.

GL: Not the time? Not the time?? The world's ending and it's not the time for any helpful advice?

Wonder Woman: Batman's right, Lantern. We need some real ideas right now.

Plastic Man: Oh! Oh! What if we create a giant slingshot out of me-

Green Arrow: I'm going to stop you there before you even continue that line of thought.

Martian Manhunter: This cannot be allowed to happen. We must act. Now.

Batman: We can't dive into something without a plan.

Wonder Woman: I'm afraid we don't have a choice this time, Bruce. We're running out of time. I say we go out there and punch it till it listens!

As the JL is arguing, Robin-Tim is suddenly hit with an epiphany. "That's it," he mutters to himself, the idea slowly developing in his head. "That's it!" he yells it out loud.

No one listens.

Tim: Everyone! I just thought of a plan that will work!

Batman, distracted and amidst arguing: Not now, Robin, later. *goes back to arguing*

Tim: But I have a plan!

The JL ignore him.

Tim: Hello!! Guys! I said I have a plan! An idea! One that will work!!

They continue to ignore him.

Tim is frustrated. He was a fairly new Robin, didn't have time to give himself a name yet. People still weren't over Jason. They either treated him like a kid who needed to get lost or a kid who was about to die any moment.

But there was no time for that! He needed to get them to listen! There were only a few hours left! What could he possibly do to make these stubborn fools lis—

Tim looked up. A lightbulb appeared above his head.

[The JL is still arguing}

Green Arrow: And you think you're always right! What if you're not right this time?

Superman: When have I ever said that? I am just trying to keep everyone alive—

Green Lantern: And you think we don't have the same concerns?

Superman: That's not what I—

Wonder Woman: Stop attacking each other! This isn't the time to—

Green Arrow: Of course you'd take his side.

Wonder Woman: Excuse me? What exactly do you mean by—

Suddenly, something booms over the speakers. It starts off slow, nobody hears it at first. Then it rises in volume, going up, up, up until it's almost deafening.

Everyone immediately stops talking and cover their ears from the cacophony. The words don't register at first. But then...

And slowly, fog fills the WatchTower as Robin slowly rises on a robotic platform lifting him up behind the large screen projector.

Every hero's eyes are on him now.

Then the song ends and Robin comes to a stop right in the middle of a screen. There is a mic attached to him which projects his voice across the entire Tower.

"Finally," he says, sounding exasperated at the bunch of incompetent adults. "You all are like toddlers. I had to make this in like a few minutes, thank goodness for Bat-tech."

Batman wonders when did he ever create a music-making Bat-tech.

"I have a plan," Robin says. And he delivers the best thought out plan there ever was.

~~~

Tim: And that's how I earned my place in the superhero community 🙂

Jon:

Maps:

Billy:

Colin:

Damian: Timothy, it is not nice to lie

Tim: Nope. No lie. Just ask Dick.

Damian: <Tt>

[Later]

Damian: Grayson, I have a question—

[inspired-lesson-plans]

This is a very long post. If you do not have the time, then please at least do the quick activity up top. The lesson plan that took me 4 days to write will follow the ⁜ symbol.

HW Due Mon:

Open https://mysolartime.com/ in a new tab and allow the website to track your location.

Open https://www.utctime.net/ in a new tab.

Reblog this post the current UTC time and your local time, using the following format:

21:00 UTC, 4:00 local

4. Vote in the following poll.

⁜

Social Studies, Grade 5, Geography 6.1.5.GeoSV.3: Demonstrate how to use digital geographic tools, maps and globes to measure distances and determine time zones, and locations using latitude and longitude.

Do Now:

Provide students with a paper copy of a population density world map and 2 minutes to fulfill the following instruction:

Draw lines on the map in order to separate the world into 24 time zones. Try not to separate dense population centers into different time zones.

⁎

Class Discussion:

Use the projector to share and discuss the maps of any students who are willing to share. Have fun with this, there are bound to be some good ideas and bad ideas because 5th grade is like that.

Then, project the official world time zone map, and discuss the good ideas and bad ideas present here.

Exemplary discussion points:

The 0-point of the timezone map is the Prime Meridian, which cuts right through England. Why do you think it's in England?

How come some countries like the US and Brazil are cut into multiple time zones, but China isn't?

Why do you think the lines are pretty straight in Europe, Africa, and North and South America, but so confused in Asia and the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans?

⁑

Direct Instruction:

Long ago, nobody really cared about the exact time. All you really needed was sunrise, sunset, and noon, and you could figure those out with your eyes. If you wanted to be fancy, you could put a stick in the ground and trace its shadow over the course of the day to measure out hours.

Perhaps the first recorded complaint of time-keeping technology comes from Rome in 250BCE.

The gods confound the man who first found out how to distinguish hours! Confound him too Who in this place set up a sundial To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions! When I was a boy, My belly was my sundial: one more sure, Truer, and more exact than any of them. This dial told me when it was time To go to dinner, when I had anything to eat; But nowadays, why even when I have, I can't fall-to unless the sun gives leave. The town's so full of these confounded dials, The greatest part of its inhabitants, Shrunk up with hunger, creep along the streets. [x]

In other words, "Kids these days are always looking at their sundials. Back in my day, there were only three times, Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. All we needed to tell the time was our stomach!"

Please note this was a satire, so if it sounds funny, you are correct.

But for 18th century British sailors, accurate timekeeping was no laughing matter. These sailors used fancy math (called trigonometry) to calculate their latitude. So long as they knew the angle between the sun and the horizon, and the time when that angle was measured.

Ship's captains would keep logbooks of these measurements. That way, another ship's captain would be able to reference the logbook in order to replicate the journey, much like replicating a science experiment.

Now... think about this... how can you do that unless the next captain is using the same time as you. We take this for granted today, but how can you be sure that two clocks are synchronized?

Scientists in the town of Greenwich, England (pronounced gren`-ich) recorded the solar noon every day of the year and calculated the Greenwich Mean Time. By keeping an accurate and exact time in one exact place, GMT eventually the Coordinated Universal Time (UTC) for everyone in the world. That's why in the time zone map, the 0 runs through one specific part of England.

This is important. For the first time in human history, the clocks in different places were synchronized. Solar noon happens at a different time in London than it does in Greenwich, but if they both use GMT (otherwise known as UTC), then they can coordinate their schedules. This was very important for railroads, where exact, coordinated schedules are very important.

Soon, the entire country of England existed within a single time zone.

When the United States built railroads that spanned vast lateral (East-West) distances, they needed to create different time zones for cities that were far apart from each other, such as New York and Chicago. Thus, the US became the first country with multiple time zones.

As the rest of the world industrialized, they needed to pick their time zones. You can see this on the map. Each time zone is, at least in theory, as wide as 1/24 the circumference of the Earth. It's like the space between the numbers on a clock! Most countries are smaller than this, so they can comfortably fit within a single timezone. Others, like Brazil and Australia, divided their landmasses into two or three time zones.

China did not have widespread industrialization until post-WWII dictatorial communist rule. This was a very uncaring and inconsiderate government, to put it mildly. Suffice it to say that for Chinese farmers in the far west, having to get up 2-3 hours earlier every day would have been the least of their worries.

⁂

Modeled Activity:

Show students how to use this Day and Night world map as a way to visualize the day and night cycle across the world.

Additionally, show them how to use https://mysolartime.com/ to find their current time where they live.

Give students a moment to calculate the difference between their Local Time and the official time in their time zone, and what that means.

(I am currently in Philadelphia, which is 11 minutes East of New York City)

Finally, show students how to use https://www.utctime.net/ to find their exact, current UTC.

Have students calculate the difference in minutes and hours between Local Time and Official Time.

00:41 - 19:30 = -5:11 (Philadelphia is 5 hours and 11 minutes East of Greenwich, England)

Explain that every internet connected device in the world uses a service like this one, then adds or subtracts hours to fit the time zone of your current location.

Higher Order Learning:

Students work in small groups to look up the local time in different major cities around the world, recording their data on a worksheet. As they do, they should discuss the following questions:

Are time zones still relevant in our always-online society?

If you can know your Local Time and the UTC any time you look at your phone, then what purpose do time zones still serve?

How would it feel for schools and businesses to use UTC instead?

How would you feel if your school day went from 4:20-10:50 UTC?

Finally, each student must individually write at least 3 sentences responding to the following question:

Would you advocate for or against your school district dropping references to the time in your time zone and instead referring to UTC and Local Time? Why or why not?

[optomaprojectors]

Here you can see Optoma India all accessories, screens, Wireless

[cf-12]

Preloader (2018)

[mrsjjongstby]

P: Vampire!Sunghoon x Time-travel Scientist!Reader

Warnings: Mentions on biting, blood, feeding scenes, mentions of death, dissapearance, time travelling, yearning, kissing, physical touch, possesiveness, soft angst, happy ending!

Synopsis: In 2090, you're sent back in time to study a village that vanished without explanation. There, you met him. You weren't supposed to fall in love with him. But you did, with a vampire. And when time ran out, you left — believing that story had ended. Until one night, back in the future, he finds you. He hasn’t aged. And he never stopped waiting.

Wordcount: 11.8k

June 22, 2090. 

The hum of the machines never stopped in sector 7. 

Even at 3:27 in the evening, the corridors filled with guards, the bright white light pulsing against the huge glass doors. Surveillance cameras present every nook and crook of the room with security drones flying silently overhead, scanning every face, every badge, every retinal print.  

There were no windows in this part of the KRONEX institute- no clocks, no noise from the outside world. Time, here, was studied, twisted, and sometimes... broken. 

You adjusted the collar of your lab coat, feeling the slight static charge settling against your skin. Another night. Another sequence calibration.  

You were the lead scientist for KRONEX's Temporal Division, and one of only five globally certified operators with direct clearance to manipulate raw time.  

Not because you are lucky- but because you are good- really good at what you do.  

"You are early." Said a familiar voice.  

You turned around to see Taehyun, hands in his lab coat pockets, glasses slightly askew. He always arrived fashionably five minutes late, so this was new.  

"So are you," you say smirking.  

"Someone write it in the history."  

He chuckled, stepping beside you as the biometric scanner opened the reinforced glass doors to Lab room Delta- 12. 

Inside, your team was already gathered,  

Mira, the chronophysics analyst, stood at her console with her usual lip balm which she applies ever minute, tapping at the interface like it owned her something.  

Yuvi, head of atmospheric translation, stayed near the back, mumbling data projections to herself. 

Jungwon, the youngest, but sharp as hell, greeted you with the usual, two fingered salute from behind the drone mapping panel.  

"Took you long enough." Mira muttered without looking up. 

"You're welcome for the coffee I brought you last time." You say as you head to the central table.  

Everyone quickly followed you, sitting around the table. 

You five are the specialized high qualification scientists who got chosen to be the people handling lab delta- 12. Coming from different backgrounds, having same interests and working in cases together for years made your guys' bond unbreakable.  

You five are highly qualified specialists chosen to operate Lab Delta-12. Coming from different backgrounds but sharing the same passion, you've worked on countless cases together over the years — and that’s made your bond unbreakable. 

The door opened, interrupting your casual talks.  

In walked, Dr. Han Myung-sik— head of KRONAX, the man who'd once published a paper predicting time dilation six years before it was observed in real data. His face, though aged, was unreadable— eyes sharp beneath the thick silver eyebrows.  

No one spoke. You all stood up immediately.  

"Sit," he said. "This will be quick."  

The doors sealed shut behind him. A cold hum flickered through the room as he turned on the internal projector.  

Five floating files appeared above the surface. Each labeled, RED CASE.  

"Your group— delta 12 is chosen for this matter." Dr.Han said quietly.  

You could feel the weight of his words which he's about to say.

"We've uncovered five unresolved incidents. Each linked to potentially an unnatural shift in recorded time."  

"These aren't ripples," he continued.  

"These are fractures. Events that don't line up with any known temporal logic. People disappeared, memories vanished, objects never aged and yet—"  

He tapped the interface. The room dimmed, and each of your profiles synced to a case file. 

"You are the only ones qualified to investigate." 

He started pacing slowly.  

"Yuvi. You're being sent to March 2311, Seoul; right before the blackout that erased six months of global data records. You'll observe the internal tech culture and corporate rivalry."  

Yuvi blinked, nodding quietly, already calculating her cover identity.  

"Mira."  

He turned to her.  

"Your case is year 1652, Gyeongju province. A palace scribble who reportedly recorded a 'sky-born woman of light' before his records were seized. The ink used in his account was... not of this earth.” 

Mira grinned. "Finally, something fun."  

"Jungwon. Taehyun. You'll split into Northern territories. Parallel years, overlapping reports. Two villages with identical names, but only one should exist."  

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, "Are we crossing time lines? "  

"Just brushing," Dr.Han replied. "Do not stay longer than you have to."

Then, he turned to you.  

"And you."  

The room stilled.  

"Your case is the most weird one."  

A red dot expanded above the table. 

Satellite data. Korean countryside. Grainy and quiet. 

"A village in 2019 – known to exist, documented, populated and functioning." "Then, it disappeared. Not physically or violently. Just... gone. All the databases rewrote themselves. The people who lived there vanished as if they were never even existed— never even born." "Your job is to go there, undercover. Blend in. Find the root event. Identify the root autonomy and leave before it happens."  

Your fingers clenched lightly under the table. You stared at the red dot on the map.  

2019.  

A quiet time. A dangerous one — because it was still close enough to modern history to be familiar. Easy to slip up. Easy to stay too long.  

"Do we suspect temporal interference?"  

You asked as you shifted your gaze from the red dot to his eyes. Dr.Han meets your eyes. "We suspect something far worse. Something that doesn't belong in any time."  

The files flickered red again. "You'll begin calibration tonight. You jump within 750 hours. That is one month. Use your time wisely."  

As he turned to leave, he paused just once— right by the door.  

"And one more thing," he said without looking back.  "Don't fall in love with the timeline. It doesn't love you back."  

With that, he was gone. The table darkens. The lights return. Yuvi exhales. Mira cracks her knuckles and Jungwon leans forward.  

"2019 huh?" Taehyun mutters beside you. "Better pack your sarcasm and Emo clothes."  

You don't respond. You just stare at the red dot again. 

The village. Gone from memory. Gone from maps. But waiting for you all the same.  

One month. 

And only one day to finish prepping, calibrating your minds, bodies, and identities before entering a timeline that wouldn’t even recognize your names. You sat in the Sim Room, surrounded by floating holoscreens of early-2010s Korea. Architecture. Clothing. Language slang. Historical emotional markers. It was all too recent. Too real. 

Mira was curled on a bench nearby, watching 1600s scrollwork with a look that said I’d rather wing it. Taehyun was arguing with an AI over inconsistency in his destination’s documentation. Again. Jungwon? Already finished his prep module and was now trying to teach Mira how to drink from a metal bottle while upside down. 

“You’re going to the past, not space,” she said, annoyed but smiling.  “Still useful if I end up in a well,” Jungwon shrugged. You blinked away the holograms and stood, stretching out your arms. 

“This doesn’t feel like prep,” Yuvi murmured, joining you. “It feels like goodbye.” 

You didn’t answer.  

She studied you, thoughtful. “You okay with your timeline?”  “2019 is barely the past,” you said. “Feels like I could bump into my parents if I’m not careful.”  “Yeah, but yours is the haunted village,” Mira called. “Mine is just a floating woman in the sky.” 

“You’re the floating woman,” Jungwon muttered under his breath. She chucked a protein chip at him while he hid behind you, holding your shoulders as if his body isn't larger than yours.  

“Alright,” Taehyun said, glancing around. “Final dinner tonight in the Commons? Before the serious lockdown begins?”  “Only if you don’t bring another slide presentation to the table,” Mira groaned. 

“I make no promises.”  You smiled — small, but genuine 

And as the others drifted out of the room, chattering, playfully teasing, you lingered a moment longer — looking up at the blinking red timestamp over the Sim Door. 

30:00:00:00  DAYS : HOURS : MINUTES: SECONDS  JUMP 

You were the first one in the bay. The air smelled sterile, like metal and ionized mist. The chamber was massive — white, cold, humming. Five jump pods lined the back wall, each glowing faint blue with individual temporal calibration. 

The boots of your suit clicked softly as you walked, every step echoing louder than your breath. The fabric hugged your body like skin, the material pressure-sealed and embedded with auto-adaptive climate tech. Your mind was a storm beneath the still surface — years of training colliding with something much quieter. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” came Taehyun’s voice from behind. You turned. He looked exhausted, but composed — the kind of man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. “Didn’t try,” you replied simply. 

He nodded, stepping beside you, with his arm around your shoulder. You both looked at the pods in silence. 

One for each of you. One jump. One direction.  No promises of coming back the same. 

Soon after, Yuvi arrived — hair tied, suit zipped, clutching a small, folded piece of paper in her hand. A name, probably. A reminder of something real. Mira strolled in with a grin too bright to be sincere. “Guess it’s finally happening,” she said, snapping her gum, though her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her suit cuffs. 

Jungwon came last, walking like he was on his way to a vacation. Humming. But you saw the tension in his knuckles as he flexed them once, twice. Dr. Han entered from the upper level, flanked by three silent technicians and a console assistant holding the jump sequence tablet. 

“Final clearances have been locked in,” he announced, voice loud across the bay. “You have fifteen minutes.” 

One by one, your mission drives were inserted into the small ports at your pod stations. The information would sync once you landed in your time period — personalized cover stories, forged credentials, emergency kill phrases. 

“I’ll see you all again,” Jungwon said, softer now, eyes scanning the rest of you. “In whatever version of time we land in. 

“Bring back something cool,” Mira added. “Like a comet or an alien.”  “Or your soul intact,” Yuvi muttered, mostly to herself. You looked around. 

These people — their lives had been laced into yours for years. Work. Sleep. Discover. Repeat. The way your names felt normal together. The easy sarcasm. The shared silence in moments like this. You didn’t know what it would be like without them.  Maybe you weren’t meant to know. Your pod blinked green. Final sequence activated. 

You stood in front of it, heart slamming once, sharply, against your ribs. 

“You’ll be inserted at 03:12 AM, August 9th, 2019,” Dr. Han said beside you. “Just outside the village’s boundary. Our records end there. No satellite returns after that date. No digital trails. Just fog.” 

You nodded. 

“And remember,” he added, “observe, record, don’t interfere.” He paused. “And don’t stay longer than you have to.” You stepped into the pod. The door hissed closed behind you. Inside: darkness. Soft blue lights blinked around your headrest. A countdown began in the corner. 

00:00:10  00:00:09  00:00:08...  Your breathing slowed. Fingers tight on the seat grips.  00:00:03  00:00:02...  You thought of nothing.  00:00:01  ENGAGING TEMPORAL LAUNCH. 

Everything went white. 

You woke up choking on fog. 

Your knees hit grass first, body staggering out of the collapsed time pod buried beneath undergrowth. The pod disintegrated on schedule — technology melted into mist the second your boots touched this era. You stood slowly, the chill biting through your fabricated 2010s-era jacket. A navy hoodie. Worn boots. Phone model synced to local time tech. Fake ID in your pocket. History-approved.  And ahead of you — trees. Low mist curling over quiet fields. One winding road in the dark. 

“03:14,” you whispered, checking the time. You started walking. It didn’t take long to reach the village. Just a few winding turns along cracked pavement and flickering streetlamps — too dim for a place this small. It looked normal at first glance. Houses with tiled roofs. Wind chimes. A distant dog barking. But the silence? Too heavy. Too complete. Not a single radio. Not one human voice. 

You followed the map projection in your eye lens. Your identity here: transfer student, staying with a distant relative for the summer before university. Your cover was clean. “Blend in. Observe. Don’t interfere.” Dr. Han’s words echoed. 

You reached the village center. A bakery. A post office. A small clinic. It was beautiful — in a nostalgic, sleepy sort of way. You spotted an inn. Two stories. Wooden steps. A soft yellow porch light still glowing. You knocked once. A moment later, an older woman opened the door, eyes squinting at your unfamiliar face. 

“Ah… you must be the niece, right? From Seoul?” You smiled, polite. "Yes, ma’am.”  “Room’s upstairs. Already made it up for you.”  With that, you leave to your room. 

August 10, 2019.

The village was quieter in the morning. Not dead. Just... slow. 

You walked past the corner bakery — the one that smelled like burnt sugar and citrus. Past a row of mailboxes that hadn’t been touched in a week. You weren’t sure if people here hated bills or just trusted too easily. Notebook in your jacket. Identity chip syncing your steps to the research log in your neural band. 

Day 2.  Civilian behavior: consistent.  Average activity start time: 6:53 AM  No sign of temporal noise. No anomalies. 

You smiled and bowed slightly to an old man sweeping the steps outside a shop. He gave you a nod in return. Eyes kind, but faintly puzzled — like he couldn’t remember when you arrived, but accepted you anyway. That was the first pattern you noticed. People here forgot details fast. But nothing big enough to ring alarms. Just enough to feel like déjà vu. 

You took a seat on the raised edge of a well in the town center, glancing down at the still water.  Your eye-lens scanned your surroundings. Kids biking. A woman hanging sheets in perfect rows. Market stalls setting up. 

Everything looked normal. Back at the inn, the old woman handed you a basket. 

“Bread for the east field home. The family that lives up near the woods. They get their supplies late.” 

“East field?” you asked, trying to remember the map. 

“Take the long path. The house is old, but someone’s always there.” 

“Someone?” 

She nodded. “A quiet boy. Rarely speaks. Keeps to himself. Been around longer than most here.” 

You didn’t ask more. Just took the basket and walked. And as you stepped onto the eastern trail, into the trees and shifting light… You didn’t know yet that you were walking toward the beginning. Of the end. 

The path to the east house was longer than expected. 

Thick trees bent overhead like old, quiet watchers. The air here was different — cooler, touched with something metallic. You adjusted the basket in your hands. You finally reached the gate — rusted iron, half open. A path lined with overgrown grass stretched up to a traditional hanok-style house. Wooden. Quiet. Heavy with stillness. 

You stepped through, gently. No animals. No birds. Just that strange silence again. You knocked once. Then twice. No answer. You were about to leave when the door creaked open. And there he was. 

He looked like he didn’t belong in 2019. Or any year. 

Dressed simply — white cotton shirt, black slacks, sleeves slightly rolled up. But there was something... too elegant about the way he held the door. Something slow and precise. Still. His eyes — dark, unfathomable — landed on yours. 

For a full second, he didn’t say a word. Neither did you. “Delivery,” you said softly, lifting the basket. 

“Right,” he replied after a pause, voice smooth, almost melodic. “They said you’d be coming.” 

You held the basket out, but he didn’t take it immediately. Instead, he studied you. Not rudely. Not even intently. Just... curiously. Like a puzzle he couldn’t quite read. Or a scent he wasn’t supposed to follow. The moment you stepped through the trees, he felt it. The beat beneath your skin. The warmth. Your blood had a scent — not strong, not desperate like others. 

Sweet. Calming. Clean. He hadn’t fed in days. But you made the ache stir. “You live here alone?” you asked. 

He nodded. “For a while now.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

He didn’t smile. But he didn’t look away. 

“Most people say it’s empty.” 

You tilted your head. “Are you?” 

That made something shift in his gaze — not amusement exactly, but the ghost of something near it. “Not today,” he said finally. 

He took the basket, fingers brushing yours for just half a second. His skin was cool. Not cold. But noticeably not warm. “Thank you,” he said, stepping back. “Be careful going back. The light fades fast out here.” 

You turned to leave, but your instincts tugged once. “What’s your name?” you asked over your shoulder. 

A pause. 

“Sunghoon,” he said quietly. 

You nodded once. “I’m Y/N.” Another pause. “I know,” he said. 

And then the door closed. As you walked back down the path, heart steady but hands tingling from where his touched yours, you couldn’t shake one thing: There had been no heartbeat behind that door. Just silence. You don’t notice someone- Sunghoon, watching you from his window as you walk back. 

And that, that night few people go missing because Sunghoon, couldn’t handle his hunger for blood. Not when he was reminded of how desperate he was to taste something sweet- something pure like your blood- like you. He can’t bite you, not yet. So, he resorted to his usual way, biting the villagers. One by one.  

It was quiete big village when Sunghoon first step foot in there. 2010. The year Sunghoon decided to enter into the huge village, leaving behind memories of his previous life- the one where everyone treated him like the monster he was. He didn’t like it one bit. So? He ended it. Bit and killed everyone who called him a monster.  

Leaving behind memories and people wasn’t new to him. He’s been like that since he was turned- since 527 years. It's what he’s best at other than sucking peoples’ blood. Having spent many years on this planet made him discard unwanted memories for good.  

And maybe that’s why he never truly loved anyone. It’s not because he isn’t capable of it. It's because he knows that they won't stick around. Not when they find out what he is, not when they leave this world entirely. Also, because, he never truly found someone who made him feel things. Feel things which are foreign to him- Desire.  

Desire for blood? Thats more like filling his hunger. Desire is what he felt when he saw you. If you ever told Sunghoon that he’d yearn for a girl he met once, he’d scoff, shaking his head. That can never happen, not when he's been on this earth for more than 500 years. He knows how to control his feelings- it was easy for him because he didn't have any feelings in the first place.  

But why is that the moment he saw you, heard you- your hearbeat, your blood pulsing in your throat, smelled the scent of you, he wanted to make you his?  

Its funny, really. This whatever weird feeling he has in his stomach is new to him. Perhaps he’s hungry for your blood? No. He’s hungry for you.  

You are here to find out how the village disappeared. Maybe you do find out that he’s the reason for the mass disappearance. But will your heart obey to leave behind everything that you've uncovered here? Leave behind someone, who is the sole reason why the disappearance happened in the first place? 

Only the future holds the answer. Maybe the present? You truly don't know, not when the time’s twisted and you are spiralling in it. 

August 14, 2019. 

You weren’t planning to run into him again. You were just taking the trail by the lake. Collecting audio samples. Watching people prep for the lantern festival — all smiles and paper crafts, sunlight catching on water like glass. But then there he was. Standing near the edge of the hill that overlooked the lake. Not moving. Just… watching it. Like the water itself had said something only he could hear. 

You almost didn’t say anything. But he turned to you first. 

“You walk this path often?” 

His voice was still soft. Still slow. Like everything he said had already passed through a hundred filters before reaching you. 

“Not really,” you said, stepping closer. “But it’s quiet. Good for thinking.” 

“Thinking,” he echoed, like it was a foreign word. “You do that a lot?” 

You smiled. “Occupational hazard.” 

“Ah,” he said. “Let me guess. You’re a writer.” 

“Wrong.” 

“A scientist?” 

You blinked. A beat too long. 

“Why that guess?” 

“Your eyes,” he said. 

“What about them?” 

“They look like they’re always dissecting things. Even me.” 

He turned back to the lake after that, leaving your thoughts spiraling slightly behind him. The sun was dipping lower, casting light through the trees. A warm breeze stirred the ends of your hair, and for once, you didn’t feel like recording anything. Just being here. 

“Why do you live so far from the village?” you asked. 

“They forget me better this way.” 

You frowned. “That’s sad.” 

“Not really.” 

“When people forget you… you stop needing to prove you exist.” 

You turned to him then — not just listening but really seeing him. The distance in his eyes. The calm sadness he wore like second skin. 

“You don’t want to be remembered?” 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. “I just don’t mind being forgotten.” 

A few kids laughed somewhere nearby, running with paper lanterns. You looked down at your shoes. “You’re hard to forget, you know.” It slipped out before you could stop it. He didn’t respond for a moment. Then, so quietly: “So are you.” 

Neither of you moved. The wind stilled. The air felt... charged. Like time paused. Just for this. 

Then— “You should go,” he said gently.

“It gets colder here after sunset.” He wasn’t pushing you away. But he was. And that strange ache bloomed behind your ribs without warning. You turned to go, steps slow. And as you walked, you felt his eyes on your back the entire time. 

August 18, 2019. 

It was supposed to be a short walk. You’d been gathering weather data, checking tree patterns near the edge of the forest. The innkeeper said the rain wouldn’t come until morning. But the sky didn’t listen. It started with a single drop. Then another. 

Within seconds, it was falling fast — fat, cold drops smacking against your shoulders, soaking through your hoodie in a matter of moments. You pulled the fabric up over your head and turned to head back — but the path was already slick, the trees pressing in closer, and fog began to roll over the field like a breath held too long. 

“Seriously?” you muttered, shivering. That’s when you saw him. Standing just under the crooked edge of an old pavilion by the hill — motionless, dry, and completely unbothered by the storm.  Sunghoon. 

You blinked, surprised. "You're always just… appearing out of nowhere.” 

“You're always walking into places you shouldn't be alone,” he replied calmly, eyes tracking the water running down your cheek. 

You hesitated. Then stepped under the structure, chest heaving slightly from the sudden cold. Your shoulders were soaked. Hair clinging to your face. Hands trembling. He watched you quietly. “You're freezing.” 

You gave a weak smile. “That tends to happen when it rains on humans.” 

He didn’t return it. Instead, he removed his outer jacket and handed it over without a word. You stared at it. “I’m already wet. You don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

You took it slowly. It was still warm. 

You slipped it on. It smelled like night air and something faintly old — like worn books and clean linen. Not the scent of someone who lived alone in a dusty house. 

The silence stretched. 

Raindrops tapping the roof like a ticking clock. 

Your breath fogged the air. 

His didn’t. 

“Why were you even out here?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer immediately. 

Then: 

“I thought you’d come this way.” 

You turned your head sharply. “You were… waiting for me?” 

He didn’t flinch. 

“Something about the sky felt wrong. I knew you’d ignore it.” 

“You don’t even know me.” 

“I know your pattern.” 

That shut you up for a moment. 

And somehow... warmed you. 

More than the jacket did. 

Your teeth chattered softly. You turned away, embarrassed. 

Suddenly, you felt something. 

His fingers — gently, lightly — tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. 

You froze. 

“You should be more careful,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the rain. “This place doesn’t forgive softness.” 

You looked up at him then. 

And he was already too close. 

Not touching. 

Not reaching. 

Just there. 

And for a second, you wondered what it would be like if he leaned in just a little more. 

“Do you always talk like that?” you whispered, lips parted. “Like you’re centuries old?” 

He gave the faintest smile like he knows something you don’t. 

The rain kept falling. The sky stayed grey. 

And your heartbeat too loudly in your ears. 

You didn’t ask him why his hands were cold even though he felt warm. 

You didn’t ask why he never blinked when he looked at you. 

The rain kept falling. 

And he stood there, completely still, listening to the rhythm of her blood, her breath, her heart... 

And all he could think was: 

Don’t touch her again.  Don’t want her.  Don’t let her see the monster inside you. 

But it was already too late. 

Because for the first time in years, he wanted something enough to lose control. 

And it was you. 

The rain had stopped, but the night still smelled like it. 

You walked slowly. 

Beside him. 

His jacket still hung over your shoulders, and you hadn’t given it back. He hadn’t asked. 

“You didn’t have to walk me home,” you said softly, watching your boots splash through a shallow puddle. 

“I know.” 

He wasn’t smiling, but his tone was warm. Like he wanted to say, I just wanted more time with you, but didn’t know how. 

The village lights shimmered faint in the distance — soft and yellow, like floating lanterns. 

It felt like you were the only two people in the world. 

“Do you always spend your nights out there?” you asked. 

“Sometimes. I like the quiet.” 

“Most people don’t,” you said. “Silence makes them uncomfortable.” 

He glanced at you. 

“What about you?” 

You thought about it. 

“I think silence is the only time people stop pretending.” 

He actually smiled at that. Just a little. The kind that tugged one corner of his mouth — barely visible, but real. 

“What do you do all day?” you asked, curious now. “No job? No classes?” 

“I read,” he said. “Walk. Watch.” 

“That sounds like what I do, too.” 

“You watch more than most people,” he replied, side-eying you. “Always observing. Analyzing.” 

You raised a brow. “Are you calling me creepy?” 

“No,” he said. “Just... different.” 

You looked away to hide your smile. 

“Is that your way of saying I’m weird?” 

“No,” he repeated, slower this time. “It’s my way of saying I see you.” 

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, trying to recover. “What did you want to be when you were little?” 

He didn’t answer right away. 

“I don’t remember,” he said finally. “It’s been a long time since I was little.” 

You turned to him, blinking. “How old are you, Sunghoon?” 

He looked at you. Really looked. 

Then smiled like he knew he shouldn’t say the next thing — but said it anyway. 

“Older than I look.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer.” 

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” 

You reached the inn gate. 

The lantern outside flickered faintly in the breeze.  Neither of you moved. 

The air was warmer now. The clouds had parted just enough for moonlight to wash over the steps. 

You stood there — his jacket still on your shoulders, the scent of rain still on your skin, and his eyes fixed gently on you. 

“Good night, Sunghoon,” you said finally, stepping up to the door. 

“Good night, Y/N.” 

You turned the handle. 

Just before stepping inside, you hesitated. 

“You never told me what you like,” you said over your shoulder. 

He tilted his head slightly. “Like?” 

“Hobbies. Music. Favorite food. Normal things.” 

Another pause. 

Then: 

“The sound of rain,” he said. “Books with no endings. And people who don’t run away.” 

You met his eyes. 

And something about the way he said it made your heart ache. 

You didn’t know why. 

But you didn’t look away. 

Not for a long moment. 

Then finally, you stepped inside. 

And closed the door. 

August 20, 2019.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. 

Just returning a jacket. 

Just a polite gesture. 

Just good manners. 

So why did your pulse stutter when the house came into view? 

The same tall trees. The same crooked path. The same quiet. 

You climbed the short stone steps and raised your hand to knock — but before you could, the door opened. 

He was already there. 

Like he’d been waiting. 

Or like he’d heard you coming long before you got close. 

“You came back,” he said, voice low, like sunlight through fog. 

“Just to return this,” you said quickly, lifting the folded jacket. 

“Of course.” 

But he didn’t take it. 

Instead, he stepped aside. 

“Do you want to come in?” 

You blinked. 

“Is that okay?” 

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

You stepped inside. 

The air was cool, but not cold. The interior still had that strange untouched feeling — like a photo frozen in time. Wood floors. A low bookshelf. A kettle on the counter, untouched. 

You walked slowly, setting the jacket on the nearest chair. 

“You live like a ghost,” you said softly. 

He raised a brow. “I’m neat.” 

“You’re ancient,” you teased. 

He smirked faintly. “So you’ve said.” 

You turned toward the bookshelf — rows of old spines and journals, some in languages you didn’t recognize. One looked handwritten. Another... burned around the edges. 

“These don’t look like they’re from a village library.” 

“They’re not.” 

“So what are they?” 

“Pieces of me,” he said. 

You paused, looking back. 

His expression didn’t change, but there was something fragile in his stillness. 

You let the question go. 

“Tea?” he asked suddenly, already reaching for the kettle. 

“You drink tea?” 

“No. But you do.” 

He made it quietly. Smooth movements. No wasted motion. 

He handed you the mug and sat across from you, careful, like he was making sure there was enough distance. 

“Do people visit you often?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the cup. 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“Because they forget me,” he said. “Or… I let them.” 

“But you didn’t want me to forget you?” you asked quietly. 

His eyes met yours. 

Dark. Unreadable. 

“I didn’t plan on you remembering at all.” 

You blinked. “What changed?” 

He stared at the steam curling between you. 

Then said, without blinking: 

“You smiled at me.” 

The silence stretched. 

The weight of it made your chest feel tight. 

Your fingers tightened around the mug. 

“Why do you always say things like that?” you whispered. 

“Like what?” 

“Like it means something. And then you never explain.” 

He stood up then, slowly — walking toward the window, looking out at the trees. 

“Because I’ve learned that explaining doesn’t stop people from leaving.” 

“So you just... stay mysterious?” 

“No,” he said, without turning around. “I stay safe.” 

You stood too. Quiet steps. 

He didn’t move as you stopped beside him, just far enough for the space between your hands to hum. 

“What are you so afraid of, Sunghoon?” you asked, not accusing — just soft. 

A pause. 

Then finally: 

“That if you knew the truth about me… you'd stop smiling at all.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“Nothing. Don’t think too much.” He says. 

You didn’t leave. 

You just stood beside him. 

And for a moment, the silence between you wasn’t heavy. 

It was tender. 

“You okay?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer. 

Didn’t trust himself to speak. 

Because right now, he could feel it rising — that burn behind his eyes, the pressure in his jaw, the ancient ache in his throat. 

The want. 

Not just to feed. 

To claim. 

“I think you should go,” he said, voice tight. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“No.” 

“Then—” 

“Please.” 

His back was turned now.  He couldn’t let her see his face.  Not when his eyes were beginning to glow. Not when his fangs had started to edge down. 

He bit the inside of his cheek — hard enough to draw blood. Let the pain steady him. Anchor him. 

“Sunghoon? Is something wrong? You can trust me- I trust you.”  

But all he said was: 

“I don’t trust myself.” 

You stared at his back for a long moment. 

Then quietly… you left. 

The door shut behind you with a soft click. 

And he stood there in the quiet, eyes still burning, heart raging inside a chest that shouldn’t have had one anymore. 

August 21, 2019. 

You went to the library to check the village’s records.  

To look for any book, any magazine, any piece of information that would help you get a better insight about the village’s roots.  

You found a series of census logs tucked into a low cabinet—records of the village’s population numbers and names dating back to the 1900s. Faded, but surprisingly intact. 

And that’s when you saw it. 

A pattern. 

In 2010, the population was 528.  In 2012, it dropped to 413.  By 2015: 290.  2017: 178. 

No official records of why.  No mass migration.  No natural disaster.  No illness outbreak. 

Just... names disappearing. 

Not all at once.  Not dramatically. 

But slowly.  Like something was taking them. One by one. 

You scanned the reports harder now. 

Looking for causes. Deaths. Relocations. 

But most names just had one word stamped across the last column: 

“Unrecorded.” 

You slammed the binder shut and sat back. 

Your chest felt tight. 

You looked around the library. The light felt colder. The silence heavier. 

This is getting nowhere. Rather than the doubts clearing, more questions are surfacing. Too many questions. Too less information. You doubt you are even eligible to solve this mystery. Maybe Dr.Han realizes he made a mistake choosing you once you return. You wonder how the others are doing. Are they going through the same difficulties?  

You shake your head as if it shakes away the insecure thoughts creeping up. You need to focus. On this village. The people. Everyone here seems normal except... Sunghoon. 

He always seemed to appear when no one else was around. 

Your fingers curled against the cover of the book. 

No. Don’t jump to conclusions. That doesn’t mean anything. 

And yet… 

Something in your gut whispered otherwise. 

Still, when the sun began to set— 

You found yourself walking toward the hill. 

Toward him. 

Carrying questions you couldn’t ask yet. 

And a heart that didn’t want answers- the real ones.  

The sky was painted in soft blue fading to lavender.  The last light of the sun had just dipped behind the mountains, leaving a glow that shimmered across the tall grass. 

You stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the village lights far below.  Everything was quiet. 

Except your thoughts. 

Except him. 

Sunghoon stood beside you — close, not quite touching. Hands in his pockets. Eyes on the horizon. 

“You always find the quietest places,” you said softly. 

“I think they find me.” 

You turned to him, trying to read that impossible expression on his face. 

“You always talk like that. Like there’s a whole world in your head and you’re just… giving me scraps.” 

“I don’t mean to,” he said. “I just forget how to be anything else.” 

You took a breath. 

“Then remind yourself. Just for tonight. Just for me.” 

He looked at you then. 

Really looked. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look away. 

“You scare me,” he said quietly. 

That made your chest tighten. 

“Why?” 

“Because you make me want to stay.” 

The wind brushed through the grass. 

Your heart was too loud. Your breath too soft. 

He stepped closer. 

His hand, trembling just slightly, reached up and cupped your cheek — gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched too hard. 

His thumb brushed under your eye, then trailed down to your jaw. 

“Say something,” he whispered. 

You didn’t. 

You leaned in instead. 

And he met you there. 

The kiss was nothing like you imagined. 

It wasn’t rushed.  It wasn’t wild. 

It was slow. 

Like two people learning what it meant to feel alive again. 

His lips were cool at first — like the wind before rain — but they softened against yours. Moved with aching care. Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth and trying not to fall apart doing it. 

You felt his breath catch. 

Felt his hand slide into your hair. 

Felt your knees go weak when he deepened the kiss — still gentle, still hesitant, but full of something you didn’t have a name for. 

And then— 

He pulled away. 

Fast. 

Like he’d caught fire. 

His eyes were wide.  Not with lust. Not even guilt. 

With fear. 

“I shouldn’t have—” 

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, reaching for him. 

He stepped back. 

“No. This was a mistake.” 

“Why are you doing this again?”  “Every time I get close, you push me away. Why?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Not with words. 

But his face… 

That expression? 

It looked like someone who just tasted something too good.  Something too human.  Something that made him forget what he was. 

“Because I can’t be the reason you get hurt,” he finally said. 

And then he turned away. 

Leaving you alone with a kiss that still burned on your lips, and a silence that felt heavier than ever. 

August 26, 2019. 

You ignored him after that. Turned your head away whenever he got into. Looked away first when you both made eye contact. Avoided him when he came to apologize the very next day of your kiss.  

Not cause you hate him. You wish you did but no. You remember what Dr.Han said, “Observe. Record. don’t interfere.” You can't risk everything just cause of some stupid, weird feelings that you have. No. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of your case. This isn't right.  

Youre altering time, you should do it wisely, not recklessly.  

And so, you did what you thought was best. Ignore. Distance. Observe. 

Or so, you thought.  

You weren’t expecting to run into him. 

But of course you did. 

He was leaning against the side wall of the bakery, half-hidden in the shade, like always. Silent. Watching. 

He didn’t call out. 

Didn’t wave. 

But you felt it — the shift in air when his gaze hit you. That quiet weight of his presence. 

You almost kept walking. 

Almost. 

But then— 

“Y/N.” 

His voice was low. Not cold. Just… tired. 

You turned after a moment of hesitation. 

Met his eyes. 

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked. 

Simple question. 

But it landed sharp. 

You didn’t answer right away. 

“I’ve just been… busy.” 

“You’ve seen me.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk.” 

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping forward. “Don’t turn it around like it’s me.” 

You blinked. “I’m not—” 

“You haven’t looked at me in five days.” 

His tone wasn’t angry.  It was quiet. Steady. Too steady. 

“You smiled at me one night,” he said, “and then the next morning, it’s like I didn’t exist.” 

“Sunghoon—” 

“And I thought—”  He paused. Ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.  “I thought maybe you needed space. But then I saw you with that guy. That tall one from the orchard. And you were laughing. Just… laughing. Like everything’s normal.” 

You looked away. 

He let the silence settle. 

Then finally: 

“It hurt.” 

That was it. Just that. 

Not possessive. Not demanding. Just real. 

You didn’t know what to say. So, you said the only truth you had: 

“I’m scared, Sunghoon.” 

He looked at you for a long time. 

“Of me?” 

“Of not knowing what’s happening. Of what this village is hiding. Of what you’re hiding.” 

You stepped back slightly, instinctively. Not far. 

But enough. 

His eyes dropped to the space between you.  Then back up. 

“Do you think I’d ever hurt you?” 

You hesitated. 

Then, quietly: 

“I don’t know.” 

That broke something in him. 

You saw it. In his eyes. 

Not rage. 

Just sadness. 

“I wouldn’t,” he said softly. “Not even if I wanted to.” 

You turned back and left without replying, unable to look into his face or even talk to him. 

September 5, 2019. 

You shouldn’t have gone looking. 

You told yourself you weren’t.  That you just needed air.  That the trail by the forest was peaceful this time of day. 

But really? You missed him. 

And you couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you. Not even if I wanted to.” 

It looped in your mind for days. Through sleep. Through silence. Through guilt. 

You didn’t give him an answer. So, you were going to. 

You were going to find him and say you’re not sure what this is, but you’re willing to try. That you believe he’s good. That you want to believe it, even if you’re scared. 

But then— 

You saw it. 

You heard something first. 

A low sound. Guttural. Like a growl tucked beneath a breath. 

And then a figure stumbling — just ahead. At the edge of the trees. A man. Drunk? Hurt? 

And beside him—  Holding him up— 

Was Sunghoon. 

Or… something that used to be him 

His head was tilted.  His lips pressed just beneath the man’s jaw.  His hands clutched the man’s shoulders too tightly.  And his eyes— 

They glowed. 

Not fully.  Just enough for the shadows to catch it. 

Red. Dim. Inhuman. 

You saw his mouth open.  Saw the flash of fang. 

And then— 

The man sagged. 

Like air had left him. 

You froze. 

Your heart punched against your ribs. 

He stared.  Still half-shadowed.  Blood on his mouth. 

He stepped forward. 

“Y/N.” 

You backed up. 

Didn’t speak. 

Didn’t breathe. 

Your eyes wide. Your expression already saying everything your voice couldn’t. 

Fear. 

The kind that wasn’t subtle. 

The kind you couldn’t take back. 

“No,” he said quietly. “No, don’t—please don’t look at me like that.” 

He wiped at his mouth. Quickly. Clumsily. 

“I can explain. It’s not—” 

You flinched when he stepped closer. 

That did it. 

He stopped. 

His hands dropped to his sides. 

And something in him… wilted. 

“So, this is it?” he whispered. 

His voice wasn’t cold.  Wasn’t sharp.  It was just… empty. 

You didn’t say anything. 

Couldn’t. 

You turned. 

And ran. 

And behind you, the last thing you heard was him whispering into the night: 

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” 

You rushed back home and stumbled in. 

You quickly went to your bedroom, opening the drawers and pulled out your logbook. 

You sat on the floor beside your bed after grabbing a marker.  

The pages were filled with sketches. Maps. Observations.  And now? 

Scribbled question marks. Shaky handwriting. A timeline you couldn’t look at anymore. 

2010 — population: 528  2012 — 413  2015 — 290  2017 — 178  2019 — barely 60 left. 

No disease.  No evacuation orders.  No record of where they went. 

But you knew now. 

You saw it. 

His eyes. His fangs.  The man in the forest, half-drained and limp in his arms. 

You knew. 

And the truth clawed at your throat like it didn’t want to be swallowed. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he had said. 

You remembered his voice.  Too quiet.  Too pained to be fake. 

But it didn’t matter now, did it? 

Because while he was giving you flowers and walking you home… 

He was feeding on the people who welcomed you with tea and stories. 

You closed your eyes. 

Your hands were trembling. 

You remembered the first time you saw him. 

How unreal he looked in the moonlight.  How safe you felt beside him. 

How stupid that was now. 

Was any of it real? 

The kiss. The laughter. The jacket he left folded on your bed. 

Or were you just the next name on his list? 

The next girl to get too close? 

Were you just another pawn in his game?  

Whatever it was, you shouldn't have gotten close with him. Shouldn't have tried to interfere. You shouldn't have done it and God, you regret it.  

And for the first time in years…  You cried. 

Not from fear.  But from heartbreak. 

If only you backed down that day on the hill. If only you shouldn't have let him close to you. If only... 

September 7, 2019. 

After that day, you didn't leave your room. 

You didn't go out, the fear of him catching you always haunting your mind whenever you reach for the door handle. 

And weirdly enough, you should feel better, you really should but why did you feel... empty?  

He’s a monster! He kills innocent people, hes a vampire. But why didn't the fact alone scare you? Why were you craving for his presence? Why were you thinking about the moments you've spent together? This isn't even real. Its past, you weren't even born at this time period. You shouldn't be feeling things you aren't supposed to. 

But you can't deny the fact that your heart aches for his presence- for him.  

But you don't have time for this. Not when you have two days on your watch. Two days before everything goes back to normal, hopefully. And so, you push aside your feelings saying the time is playing tricks on you and start writing the report.  

All of your log entries, now are typed and kept in digital doc by you. You enter the log entries, from day one to the day you discovered the root cause of all of this- the dissapearance. You procrastinated too much while typing them in, thinking about all the wonderful days you’ve spent with locals- with him. 

But all of this isn't real, at the end of the day. You don't belong here- you shouldn't. This isn't your timeline. This is not your story. This isn't the reality you are supposed to live in and experience. This is just a case that you've got assigned to. It's your duty. And you fulfilled it by finding out the reason. And this is where you shall end it. End of this chapter, end of this case and end of him.  

September 9, 2019.  

Today is the day. 

You pack your bag, filling it with the things you bought and the things you are taking back to your timeline. The memories, the events and the adventures.  

There wasn't a single second you haven't thought about him. But this is it. You have to say your goodbyes.  

You can't warn the others, who haven't yet got bitten by Sunghoon. Because as dr.Han said, “Don't interfere.”  

Youve already made the mistake of not listening to him and crossed the boundary and faced the consequences. You aren't going to do it again. Because at the end of the day, its fate. It already happened. You can't change it, not even when you go back in time. Because what's written, is written. If changed, you are bound to face the consequences.  

History can't be re-written.  

And so, with that, you leave.  

You stood by the terminal light beam.  

Delta 12’s jump pulse flickering through the mist. 

Your bag beside you. Your heart heavy with no one in the future world- the real world would understand or know of.  

You turned back one last time towards the village. 

Thanking it for everything it gave you- thanking it for giving Sunghoon. 

Who'll be remembered as the passing wind and the falling of leaves by you.  

And when you jumped- 

The light swallowed you whole. 

And in the same breath,  

You were gone.  

July 22, 2090. 

You opened your eyes. 

The jump light was fading.  The room around you was cold. White. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache. 

You were home. 

But it didn’t feel like it. 

Not yet. 

Your bag was still at your side. Your fingers still trembling. Your body still in two places — the sterile floors of the lab… and the moss-soft grass beneath his feet. 

You didn’t even notice the door sliding open until you heard the softest gasp. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned. 

And there she was. 

Mira.  Her braid was undone, her coat slung over one arm, her eyes red — like she’d either just woken up… or hadn’t slept since the moment she jumped back. 

She stared at you. 

Then smiled. Weakly. 

“God, it’s you.” 

You couldn’t speak. 

You didn’t have to. 

She crossed the space between you in three quick steps and pulled you into the kind of hug you didn’t realize you needed until her arms wrapped around you. 

You felt her chest shudder. 

You were crying too. 

Soon, the others trickled in. 

Taehyun — still composed, but his eyes softer than usual.  Yuvi — who dropped her bag the second she saw you, crashing into the hug with a half-laugh, half-sob. Jungwon — who just stood by the door for a long time, taking all of you in like he didn’t believe you were real until that moment. 

No one said much at first. 

They just… stood there. 

Five people who had faced time itself. 

And came back with hearts a little heavier. 

Eyes a little older. 

It felt nice. Seeing everyone’s familiar faces after being drowned in unfamiliar faces who don't even exist in reality.  

Finally, Mira sniffed and said, voice shaking: 

“I missed you guys.” 

Yuvi let out a teary laugh. 

“I didn’t realize how much till now.” 

Jungwon gave a small nod, blinking fast. 

Taehyun just whispered: 

“You’re all here.” 

You wiped your face and smiled. 

Soft. Quiet. Real. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re here.” 

You all look at each other. A moment of silence. As if you guys are finally taking in and registering everyone’s presence. And then, you all hugged. A big group hug filled with emotions which arent said loud but felt. And finally, you felt like you are back home.  

September 11, 2019.  

The room smelled of old circuits and sterile air.  The walls glowed faint blue, humming with quiet energy. 

You sat where you always had —  Same table.  Same lights.  Same white jackets. 

But nothing was the same anymore. 

Not the silence.  Not the weight in everyone’s eyes. 

Not the version of you that existed before. 

The door slid open. 

Dr. Han stepped in, shoulders straighter than usual, expression unreadable. 

“Good morning.” 

He stood at the edge of the circular table, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning each of you. 

“You’ve all returned safely,” he said. “On record, your missions were successful. But the records don’t matter if we don’t understand why.” 

He took a breath. 

“So, let’s talk about what really happened.” 

Dr. Han looked at Yuvi first.  

“Yuvi. March 2311. Seoul. What caused the blackout?” 

Yuvi didn’t hesitate.  But her voice was softer than usual. 

“It wasn’t just data loss,” she said. “It was deliberate. The two largest tech giants—SolarCore and NeuraStream—were engaged in a silent war for memory control. They each tried to overwrite the other’s data… and in doing so, they wiped everyone’s.” 

A pause. 

“The blackout wasn’t a glitch. It was a battle. One that made the world forget six months — and made the companies forget what humanity was.” 

Dr. Han only nodded. 

“Mira. 1652. The scribe’s ink.” 

Mira folded her hands. 

“The man wasn’t mad. The ‘sky-born woman of light’ — she was a time displacer like us. From the future. Possibly one of the early, undocumented tests.” 

She met Dr. Han’s eyes. 

“The ink? It was our ink. Synthetic. Used in lab reports.” 

Silence fell. 

Dr. Han blinked slowly. “You’re saying the anomaly… was ours.” 

“Yes,” Mira whispered. “We caused the myth.” 

“You two. Northern Territories. Duplicated villages.” 

Taehyun glanced at Jungwon. Jungwon gave a tiny nod. 

“There were two villages,” Jungwon said. “Identical. Same people. Same dogs. Same newspapers.” 

“Except,” Taehyun added, “They existed in overlapping timelines. One was five minutes behind the other. A permanent sync lag caused by a failed early prototype of time field testing.” 

Jungwon finished it quietly. 

“It was human error. A time scar. We tried to erase one. But they both kept living… until one finally collapsed.” 

“Y/N,” Dr. Han said, turning to you. “The village of Myeon-ri. The one that vanished without cause.” 

Your fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table. 

You could still feel the wind there. Still hear his voice. 

You slid the chip forward. 

“There was no disease. No mass migration. No disaster. It was slow. Intentional.” 

You looked up. 

“A predator lived there. Not wild. Human-shaped. Possibly centuries old. A vampire, by older terms. He fed carefully, spaced apart. But eventually, the numbers dropped too far.” 

The others stared. 

You didn’t flinch. 

“He didn’t want the village gone. But he couldn’t stop. And no one remembered the ones who vanished. They were erased — from memory, from databases. Like they never existed.” 

“Vampire?” Dr.Han questioned. 

“Vampire.” You confirmed.  

Dr. Han asked, quietly: 

“Did he know who you were?” 

A pause. 

You met his gaze. 

“No.” 

A beat. 

“But I think I knew who he used to be.” 

You lied. Of course he knows you. He knows the woman he fell for the first time. He knows the woman who was his first ever kiss. 

You didn't tell them. You didn't to protect him and in a way, protect yourself too. 

Dr. Han stepped back. He looked at each of you — not as scientists, but as people who had seen too much. 

“You all did what centuries of historians couldn’t. You brought back truth.” 

He turned toward the exit, then paused. 

“Take the week off. Rest. File clean versions by the end of the month. We’ll… figure out what to do with the rest.” 

The door hissed closed behind him. 

And you all sat in silence.  Hearts still somewhere in another time. 

The streets are quiet at 2 a.m. 

Neon signs buzz in blues and pinks.  Artificial rain shimmers above, falling against projection domes that keep your coat dry. 

You pass a street musician playing a slow guitar. 

The song is unfamiliar.  But it feels like him. 

Like a song you might’ve danced to on his porch.  Or hummed under your breath while he walked you home. 

Your throat tightens. 

You sit on a bench, ignoring your holopad as it pings with follow-up requests from Dr. Han. 

You can’t open the file.  You can’t even look at his name on the case label. 

Your hand slowly reaches into your coat pocket. 

The jacket he gave you is long gone. 

But you still have one thing. 

A pressed leaf. 

Red. From that tree near the hill.  Where he waited for you every evening.  Where he said nothing — just smiled — like you were his favorite moment of the day. 

You hold the leaf to your chest. 

And for a second…  you close your eyes. 

And pretend he’s sitting beside you. 

Back in the lab, the report still sits unsaved.  You’d written everything except the truth. 

“He didn’t follow me back.” 

But your chest burns with what you didn’t say. 

I think he wanted to.  I think I wanted him to.  And I think I left the part of me that believed in forever… in his hands. 

You missed him. You looked for him in everything. The wind, the leaves, the clouds, the time, everything. And somewhere back in 2019, sunghoon feels the weight of your absence.  

Sunghoon didn't really think it'd affect him that much, but it did. He was helpless when he didn't find you. Asked everyone, searched everywhere but there wasn't a trace of you, there wasn't a thing left behind you. And God, did he miss you.  

The silence after you was worse than the centuries before you. 

You were only here a month —  But the air still tasted like you.  The breeze still moved like the hem of your coat. 

He stood by the river. 

The same one you almost slipped near.  The one where he caught your hand. 

You used to laugh here. 

Now it was empty. 

And so was he. 

His throat burned.  The ache that had quieted in your presence — like your scent tamed the storm in his blood — now returned with wildfire in his veins. 

He hadn’t fed in days.  He didn’t want anyone else. 

He wanted you. 

"Y/N..." he whispered, though the name felt like poison now. 

He tried to hold back.  He really, truly did. 

But you were gone. 

And he had nothing left to prove he was still human. 

The next night, they found the baker's house empty.  Then the woman who sold herbs.  Then the elder by the hill. 

No one saw what took them. 

And Sunghoon? 

He stood in the village center, blood drying at the corner of his mouth, eyes still locked on the road you used to walk down every dusk. 

His hands shook. 

His mouth trembled. 

"You were supposed to stay..."  "You promised me forever in your eyes." 

But you didn’t answer. 

Because you were gone. 

And so were the people in the village.  

The village lingered with only with him feeding off of everyone and your presence.  

Time moved on. 

The village eventually collapsed.  Records rewritten.  Footprints washed away. 

But he didn’t vanish. 

He moved.  Fed.  Lingered in shadows. 

Years passed.  Decades blurred. 

He watched the world crawl toward neon skies and cities that blinked like stars. 

You were long gone.  But he never stopped believing in the possibility that time — the very thing that tore you from him — might one day return you. 

“Okay but hear me out,” Taehyun says, typing aggressively while Mira tries to slap his hand off the panel. “If I didn’t reroute the carbon filters that night, we’d all be bald. Fact.” 

“Fact?” Mira scoffs. “Fact is you nearly made the algae tank sentient. That thing winked at me.” 

“I still miss it,” Jungwon adds quietly, head down in his own files, a faint smile playing at his lips. 

Yuvi kicks her chair back dramatically, groaning. “My simulation’s stuck again. If I see one more ‘Data Error: Please Restart,’ I swear I’ll throw myself into the code.” 

Your lips curve as you watch them — the way the five of you fit into this space like puzzle pieces.  The room hums with soft tech glows and distant rain tapping the glass walls. 

It's late.  But none of you seem in a hurry to leave. 

Mira throws an energy bar at Taehyun. He catches it one-handed, smug.  Jungwon’s quietly stealing Yuvi’s half-charged mug again.  You just watch — feeling both part of it and… a little removed. 

Because they didn’t live what you lived.  Not the way you did. 

Not with him. 

Not with Sunghoon. 

“You good?” Yuvi asks you suddenly, turning in her chair. 

You blink. “Yeah. Just… tired.” 

“Duh,” she says, nudging your arm. “We’re all tired. End of world stuff every Tuesday.” 

You laugh. The others join in.  And just for a second, it feels normal. 

Like the past didn't follow you here.  Like he never reached across time. 

But the quiet ache in your chest says otherwise. 

Later, when the lab empties out one by one — when Yuvi yawns and Mira packs up her files —  you linger behind. 

Taehyun walks past you, ruffling your hair gently like he always does. Jungwon side hugs you as he exits. And Mira and Yuvi give you a hug before logging off.  

Then the lights dim.  The labs settle.  And you finally move. 

It was almost midnight. 

Your body was running on caffeine, adrenaline, and a half-shattered mind.  The labs were quiet. The halls were colder. Your coat clung to your shoulders, and all you wanted was silence. 

You stepped into the elevator. 

It was empty. Or—  so you thought. 

You didn’t even notice him at first. 

Not until the doors closed.  Not until the world narrowed into this steel box.  And not until a voice — low, aching, quiet — cut through the air like a thread snapping in your chest. 

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” 

You froze. 

Slowly, your eyes turned toward the figure standing in the far corner. 

And there he was. 

Sunghoon. 

Pressed against the wall of the elevator, the overhead light casting a cold glow across his skin.  His white dress shirt clung perfectly across his chest — sleeves rolled just below his elbows, forearms tense. His black tie was loose, like he’d worn it all day just to see you like this. 

His head was tilted slightly down, shadows covering half of his face — but even in the dimness, you saw it. 

The red.  Faint. Glowing. Watching. 

His jaw clenched. His lashes heavy against his cheek. His entire body still, like he was trying not to shake. 

Like just standing here, in front of you, took everything he had left. 

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. 

He finally looked up.  Right at you. 

“You disappeared,” he said softly.  A step closer. 

“But I didn’t.” 

Another step. 

“I stayed. I searched.” 

His voice trembles. 

“And I waited.” 

He stops inches away from you. Close enough for you to see that his hands are shaking.  That his smile is breaking.  That the pain he’s carried all these years hasn’t dulled — only buried deeper. 

Your lips part, but no words come. 

Because what do you say to a man who waited seventy-one years for a goodbye? 

Your body doesn’t move. But he does. 

He steps forward — slowly — like if he moves too fast, you’ll vanish all over again. 

Then his hand lifts. And he touches you. 

Not roughly. Not hungrily. 

Just one cold, steady hand cupping your cheek — reverent. Careful.  The way he always touched you. Like you were something sacred. 

His other hand rests at your waist, pulling you gently toward him. 

Your breath hitches. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

His thumb brushes your skin — and only then, do you exhale. 

But your voice barely comes out. 

“How… how did you get in here?” 

His smile twitches — half amused, half ruined. 

“You’re not the only one who learns things in seventy years.” 

You stare at him. 

“You broke into the lab?” 

“No,” he murmurs. “I learned how to become a ghost in systems like these. Took years. But I found my way into every firewall with your name on it. Every door you walked through.” 

He leans in just slightly — not threatening. Not desperate. 

Just there. Real. Close. 

“I wasn’t going to leave without seeing you again.” 

No matter how many years it’s been —  no matter how far you ran into the future — 

he still found you. 

He holds you like a memory he never let go of.  Like a secret he kept alive for decades. 

And when he finally speaks —  his voice cracks. 

“Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You blink.  Your lips part, but no sound comes out. 

Because how do you explain the sleepless nights?  The dreams where he touched your hand again?  The jacket you almost replicated just to feel close? 

He waits. 

And when you don’t answer — when silence sits between you like a second goodbye — you hear it again: 

“Y/N…”  “Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You look up at him then. 

And the glow in his eyes — the faint red warmth — flickers. 

Flickers like it’ll die if you lie. 

Your throat is tight. 

“How did you even find me?” you whisper. 

He smiles — not the charming one.  The broken one. 

“I never stopped looking.” 

A beat. 

“The village disappeared, but I didn’t. I moved. I adapted. I learned your world. I followed every digital trail you left behind. I memorized your voice. I traced you through five corporate systems and twenty years of noise.” 

His forehead leans into yours, almost touching. 

“You left without saying goodbye.”  “I needed to know… if it meant as much to you as it did to me.” 

You’re not breathing. 

Because in his voice — beneath the stillness, the eternal youth —  is pain. 

Not monstrous. Not violent. 

Just human. And heartbreakingly yours. 

Your hands move without thinking.  One rises to his chest — over where his heart used to beat. 

It’s quiet now.  But yours is loud enough for both of you. 

He’s still waiting. 

Eyes glowing.  Breath held. 

“Tell me,” He whispers again. “Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You swallow. 

Tears sting the edges of your eyes — the kind you refused to cry back then. The kind you buried inside lab reports and daily logs. 

And finally, your voice breaks. 

“I didn’t forget.” 

He closes his eyes, just for a second. Like the words hurt. Like they heal. 

“I just…” you breathe, “I just didn’t know how to come back.” 

There it is. 

The truth. 

The full, naked truth sitting between you —  soft and devastating. 

“I didn’t know if I could. If I should. If you were even—” 

He kisses you. 

Not rushed.  Not hungry. 

Just… quiet. Desperate. Familiar. 

The kind of kiss that says thank you for surviving. 

The kind that says don’t leave again. 

it feels like time folds in on itself. 

Like the wind from the village,  the rain on your skin,  the jacket on your shoulders,  the words you never said —  they all return in that one breath. 

And this time,  you kiss him back. 

Hands gripping the front of his coat, your breath catching —  like your body finally remembered what safety tasted like. 

He pulls you in closer, desperate,  like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.  Like you’ll vanish again if he lets go. 

When your lips part, and you both breathe — barely —  your forehead leans into his. 

The glow in his eyes softens. 

And then— 

“You…” your voice cracks, soft and shaking.  “You waited? For me?” 

His eyes close slowly. 

Not like he’s in pain —  but like your question alone undid him. 

“Of course I did,” he whispers.  “How could I not?” 

You inhale sharply,  because no one’s ever said it like that. 

Not with that kind of certainty.  Like your existence was never forgettable —  just… unforgettable. 

“You… waited? For me?” 

His eyes flutter shut — like your voice, your doubt, undoes something deep in him. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, forehead still resting against yours.  “How could I not?” 

That’s when the tears come. 

You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t even sure they were still inside you. 

But suddenly, your eyes burn. 

And your voice falls out in pieces. 

“I thought…” your lips tremble.  “I thought you moved on.”  “Thought you’d forget me.” 

His arms tighten around you instantly — like he can feel you breaking and is ready to hold every shattered piece. 

“I couldn’t,” he says.  “I wouldn’t.” 

Your eyes meet again, and he says it like a vow: 

“I loved you in 2019. I loved you in every year after.  Even the ones where you weren’t there.” 

“You… waited? For me?” 

His eyes flutter shut — like your voice, your doubt, undoes something deep in him. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, forehead still resting against yours.  “How could I not?” 

That’s when the tears come. 

You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t even sure they were still inside you. 

But suddenly, your eyes burn. 

And your voice falls out in pieces. 

“I thought…” your lips tremble.  “I thought you moved on.”  “Thought you’d forget me.” 

His arms tighten around you instantly — like he can feel you breaking and is ready to hold every shattered piece. 

“I couldn’t,” he says.  “I wouldn’t.” 

Your eyes meet again, and he says it like a vow: 

“I loved you in 2019. I loved you in every year after.  Even the ones where you weren’t there.” 

And just like that—  you stepped into him. 

Your arms wrapped around his torso tight, face burying into his chest, body trembling from everything you’d held back for too long. 

And he— 

He didn’t hesitate. 

He wrapped his arms around you so firmly, so protectively, it almost hurt.  Like if the world tried to take you again, it would have to tear through him first. 

One arm locked around your waist.  The other curled high around your back, hand cradling the base of your neck — fingers gently gripping, anchoring you like he was afraid you’d disappear again. 

“You’re here,” he breathed.  “You’re really here.” 

He didn’t just hold you. 

He claimed you — not with force, but with everything he never got to say. 

This wasn’t a soft embrace. 

This was the way you hold something sacred.  The way you cling to a miracle. 

And for the first time after he met in seventy years,  he didn’t feel cold anymore. 

He held you like you were his whole world —  like everything he endured, every year he starved, every time he nearly gave up…  was worth it just to feel you in his arms again. 

And for a long, still moment —  you didn’t speak. 

You just breathed.  Chest rising against his.  The faint, unfamiliar sound of his heartbeat echoing somewhere far beneath. 

Then, into the quiet, barely louder than a breath— 

“I missed this,” you whispered, cheek pressed against his chest.  “I missed you.” 

His hand gripped you tighter, almost instinctively.  Like your words shattered something inside him he didn’t even know was still breakable. 

He didn’t say anything at first. 

But you felt it —  in the way his thumb moved slowly against your back,  in the way his body trembled just slightly against yours. 

“Say it again,” he murmured. 

You tilted your head just slightly, looked up into those red-flecked eyes that had waited decades for this. 

And this time, you didn’t whisper. 

“I missed you, Sunghoon.” 

He looked at you, cupped your face with both of his hands with so much of care as if you were porcelain and would break if you added any more force.  

He kissed your forehead like it was the only language he had left. 

Slow.  Tender.  Devastating. 

Your eyes fluttered shut — his lips lingering just a heartbeat longer, like he couldn’t quite let go. 

And when he finally pulled back, just far enough to look at you again —  his voice cracked through the silence. 

“Don’t leave me this time…”  A pause. A breath.  “Angel.” 

The name hit you harder than the kiss. 

Because that’s what he used to call you.  Back in the village.  When your hands were cold from the rain, and he’d wrap his jacket around you like you were something worth saving. 

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.  But he saw it.  Of course he did.  His thumb brushed just beneath your eye. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured.  “Just… stay.” 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie (lmk if u wanna be added!)

A/N: im backkkkkkkkkk y'allllllllllllll !!!!!!!!! also this thing has been keeping me from watching the outside mv so imma watch it now! ALSO WROTE THIS THING IN 2 DAYS LIKE WTH i cant believe i did tht. anyways enjoy and stay hydrated!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sandwhich-lady]

I am begging to know how the projections work in the dome in dimension 20. Like specifically in never stop blowing up, who controls which projections come on and when? Is it brennan? The projections crew? A combo of both? Are the panels an led wall or are they using actually projectors? How many?? How small are those projectors? How big? How are those placed for the image to flawlessly cover the whole dome? Was mapping that a nightmare? Do they use qlab?? How goddamn powerful are those projectors to have such high quality and brightness? Is it a bunch of really powerful short throw projectors? Do they project from the back or the front? How do they do that? I want that job how does one get that job. Anyway shout out to all the tech/art elements of never stop blowing up and dimension 20 in general yall rule

[eternalstateofoctober]

— 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔦 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 | AMC’s IWTV

also known as ”local woman is roused to learn editing to deliver everyone this fandom classic” (the video's synced better on desktop)

transcription/video description under the cut:

[video description: a fan video/edit of amc’s ”interview with the vampire” by tumblr user @eternalstateofoctober (me!!) set to a shortened version of lenka’s ”everything at once”. the video clips are cut to the rhythm of the song and its changing lyrics. the song is catchy and upbeat with a light, bouncy rhythm and a whimsical but also slightly melancholic vibe at times. it has a steady beat with repeating piano notes and some xylophone. the video clips are muted so only the song is playing, save for a few voiceover lines and sound effects.

(instrumental intro, repeating piano notes)

the théâtre des vampires orchestra starts playing and another member checks the projector. a watermark with the username @eternalstateofoctober flashes on screen and disappears at the same time as a projector light flickers.

🎵 as sly as a fox 🎵

two clips of daniel after the trial script reveal. first he tosses the script to louis, then he pushes his glasses up and casts a hard look at an off-screen armand.

🎵 as strong as an ox 🎵

armand uses the mind gift to make the coven fall asleep at the dinner table in 2x04, voiceover of him yelling ”enough!” angrily and banging the table. table settings clattering. then lestat using the mind gift at the trial to manipulate louis’ sentence. his left ear starts bleeding. VO lestat: ”banishment...”

🎵 as fast as a hare 🎵

louis sprints at daniel in ’73, making him stumble back.

🎵 as brave as a bear 🎵

clips of young daniel being tortured by armand. first he lifts his gaze, then there’s two clips of him being slammed down by armands powers. last clip is him closing his eyes while armand holds his face. VO of daniel’s grunts and whimpers.

🎵 as free as a bird 🎵

claudia on stage as baby lu mimes opening a window made of projections happily.

🎵 as neat as a word 🎵

claudia writes in her diary in season 1, the clip has a double exposure effect with her pen moving on the page.

🎵 as quiet as a mouse 🎵

a wide shot of the sewers the children of darkness inhabit.

🎵 as big as a house 🎵

establishing shot of the théâtre des vampires building. suddenly the screen flashes black and there’s a quick flickering shot of the talamasca logo on daniel’s laptop screen and a glitching sound effect.

🎵 as mean as a wolf 🎵

close-up of santiago on stage in 2x02, he looks right at the audience seductively.

🎵 as sharp as a tooth 🎵

shots of the vamps baring their fangs. lestat ripping the priests throat out in 1x01, claudia in madeleine’s shop, louis in ’73 showing off to daniel, armand hissing at lestat in 2x03.

🎵 as deep as a bite 🎵

extreme close-up of lestat biting louis at the altar.

🎵 as dark as the night 🎵

madeleine lights a candle that illuminates her face during a power outage. she’s watched from outside her shop window by a curious claudia.

🎵 as sweet as a song 🎵

young daniel embraces armand after armand has manipulated him to accept death. armand strokes his hair and there’s armand’s calm whisper as a voiceover: ”i’ll hold you…”

🎵 as right as a wrong 🎵

claudia’s real turning. lestat looks up from an off-screen louis who’s begging on his knees. in the second clip he’s kneeling next to claudia on the floor and lifting her upper body while louis’ back is still turned to them.

🎵 as long as a road 🎵

louis’ finger taps a spot on a map in the warzone.

🎵 as ugly as a toad 🎵

the vampire bruce cocking his head.

🎵 as pretty as a picture, hanging from a fixture 🎵

lestat’s portrait hangs on the wall in the théâtre’s green room in 2x02, jumpcut to it in flames in 2x08.

🎵 strong like a family 🎵

the de pointe du lac and frenière families pose for a portrait at grace’s wedding. the clip changes to the next with the camera’s flash going off.

🎵 strong as i wanna be 🎵

VO Madeleine: ”mais j'ai survécu.” (”but i survived” in french). shots of madeleine’s past, the trial by mob. extreme close-up of her crying face, the angry crowd surrounding her, her screaming while her hair is shorn. the segment ends with her throwing an iron through her shop window where a group of locals has just painted a swastika. sound effect of glass shattering.

🎵 bright as day, as light as play 🎵

madeleine’s vision of claudia as she’s turned. claudia in a yellow dress in madeleine’s shop, smiling to the camera—at madeleine—and turning to the mirror. the whole scene basks in warm, bright afternoon light.

🎵 as hard as nails 🎵

grace looks up at a slightly off-screen louis in 1x05, a hard, difficult look. they are at louis’ fake grave at night and grace is holding a funeral bouquet.

🎵 as grand as a whale 🎵

two clips after one another. first is louis being buried alive in 2x07, a silent scream as the rocks rush to cover his face. second one is his feet stepping onto the rocks in the penthouse’s sundial room. VO old daniel: ”where’s your coffin?”

(the music quiets and slows down slightly for the next line.)

🎵 as warm as the sun 🎵

close-up of claudia burning in the sun at the trial. she is turning into ash but still looks at an off-screen lestat.

🎵 as silly as fun 🎵

several clips in rapid succession. murder family laughing at a movie theatre, them dancing together—holding hands, claudia cheering riding the sidecar of a motorcycle in paris during the théâtre’s group hunting, armand smirking wearing malek’s glasses, vamp daniel’s tv interview, him laughing at the host.

🎵 as cool as a tree 🎵

real rashid steps slightly forward, hands clasped behind his back with a neutral expression.

🎵 as scary as the sea 🎵

two clips of armand in ’73. first his eyes shake as he slams daniel down with his powers in the background, then him turning slowly—eyes wide—to face daniel that’s sitting in front of him.

🎵 as hot as fire 🎵

three clips showing fire in the show. first: daciana throwing herself into the flames, second: armand’s fire gift, him looking at a flame in his hand, third: the théâtre’s fire starting behind louis as he looks into claudia’s mirror backstage. the mirror reads ”tweedily deedily dead”.

🎵 cold as ice 🎵

louis cuts off santiago’s head, louis smirking, looking down. VO: louis’ satisfied chuckle.

🎵 sweet as sugar and everything nice 🎵

VO louis and old daniel: ”would you like a sample?” ”i’m a savory man most days.” with first a clip of armand-as-rashid’s blissful expression as louis drinks from him at the dinner table in 1x05, then three clips of sweet treats: the strawberry dessert from 1x02 being set in front of daniel, daniel taking a bite of it, then young daniel sipping his grasshopper at mary’s. the clip ends with old daniel’s hand pushing his coffee cup forward, requesting a refill.

🎵 as old as time 🎵

armand stares at a painting depicting him in the louvre, eyes wide, brows slightly furrowed, head slightly turned.

🎵 as straight as a line 🎵

the recording on daniel’s laptop flatlining, him looking at armand, armand smiling warmly at him.

🎵 as royal as a queen 🎵

lestat basks in all his king raj mardi gras costume glory, he smiles widely up at the camera positioned above his head.

🎵 as buzzed as a bee 🎵

lestat on stage in 2x03, wiggling his shoulders, smiling playfully, flipping his coat tails up and bending over for the audience.

🎵 as stealth as a tiger 🎵

estelle and celeste spying on louis and claudia in paris.

🎵 smooth as a glider 🎵

armand floats up the louvre floors as louis and dreamstat take the stairs.

🎵 pure as a melody, pure as i wanna be 🎵

first, a shot of louis and paul dancing at grace’s wedding, smiling at each other. then, a close-up of paul sitting of the roof, turning to look at an off-screen louis as the screen slowly fades to black and another watermark appears. the voiceover is paul and louis’: ”i love you, louis.” ”i love you too, baby brother.”

/end video description]

[optomaindia]

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Projection mapping, a cutting-edge technology that transforms irregularly shaped objects into dynamic display surfaces, has revolutionized the way we experience visual content. Among the leaders in this innovative field is Optoma, a brand renowned for its advanced projection technology. In this blog, we’ll delve into how Optoma projection mapping projectors are changing the landscape of visual displays and why they are the go-to choice for professionals across various industries.

What is Projection Mapping? Projection mapping, also known as spatial augmented reality, is a technique that projects images and videos onto 3D surfaces. Unlike traditional flat screen projections, this technology allows for content to be mapped onto complex shapes and structures, creating immersive and interactive visual experiences. From art installations and concerts to corporate events and theme parks, projection mapping has opened up new dimensions in visual storytelling.

Why Choose Optoma Projection Mapping Projectors?

1. Superior Image Quality Optoma projectors are known for their exceptional image quality, which is crucial for projection mapping. With high resolution and brightness levels, these projectors deliver vibrant, sharp, and clear images, even in challenging lighting conditions. This ensures that every detail of your visual content is accurately reproduced, providing an engaging experience for your audience.

2. Advanced Technology Optoma integrates the latest technological advancements into their projectors. Features such as edge blending and warping, high dynamic range (HDR) support, and laser light sources make their projectors ideal for complex projection mapping tasks. Edge blending and warping allow for seamless image projection on irregular surfaces, while HDR enhances the color and contrast, making visuals more lifelike.

3. Versatility and Flexibility Optoma projectors are designed to be versatile and flexible, catering to a wide range of projection needs. Whether you’re mapping onto small objects or large buildings, Optoma offers a variety of projector models with different specifications to suit your requirements. Their compact design and multiple connectivity options also make setup and integration into existing systems straightforward.

4. Reliability and Durability Projection mapping often involves long-duration displays and installations in various environments. Optoma projectors are built to be reliable and durable, ensuring consistent performance over time. The use of laser technology in many models not only provides superior image quality but also extends the projector’s lifespan, reducing maintenance and replacement costs.

5. User-Friendly Software Optoma provides intuitive software solutions that simplify the projection mapping process. Their user-friendly interfaces and powerful tools enable users to design, map, and control their projections with ease. This makes Optoma projectors accessible to both beginners and experienced professionals, allowing them to bring their creative visions to life effortlessly.

Applications of Optoma Projection Mapping Projectors

1. Art and Entertainment Artists and performers are leveraging Optoma projection mapping projectors to create mesmerizing installations and live performances. The ability to project stunning visuals onto sculptures, buildings, and stages enhances the audience’s experience, making art and entertainment more immersive and interactive.

2. Corporate and Marketing Events Businesses are using projection mapping to make a lasting impression at corporate events, product launches, and trade shows. By transforming ordinary venues into dynamic visual landscapes, companies can engage their audience in unique and memorable ways, boosting brand visibility and recognition.

3. Education and Training Educational institutions and training centers are adopting projection mapping to create interactive learning environments. By projecting content onto 3D models and classroom walls, educators can provide a more engaging and effective learning experience, helping students to better understand complex concepts.

4. Museums and Exhibitions Museums and exhibition centers are utilizing projection mapping to enhance their displays and exhibits. By bringing static objects to life with animated visuals and dynamic storytelling, they can offer visitors a more captivating and educational experience.

5. High Brightness Projectors Optoma mapping projectors are high brightness projectors designed for exceptional performance in large-scale visual displays and immersive experiences. These projectors deliver vivid, detailed images with outstanding clarity, making them ideal for projecting onto a variety of surfaces in both indoor and outdoor settings. Featuring advanced technology, Optoma mapping projectors offer superior color accuracy, high contrast ratios, and reliable performance. Whether for architectural projections, live events, or digital art installations, Optoma mapping projectors ensure your visuals stand out with stunning brilliance and precision. Trust Optoma for high-quality projection solutions that bring your creative vision to life.

Conclusion Optoma projection mapping projectors are at the forefront of transforming visual displays into immersive experiences. With superior image quality, advanced technology, versatility, reliability, and user-friendly software, Optoma projectors are the ideal choice for anyone looking to explore the creative possibilities of projection mapping. Whether you’re an artist, educator, business professional, or event organizer, Optoma projectors can help you create unforgettable visual experiences that captivate and inspire.

Explore the world of projection mapping with Optoma and elevate your visual displays to new heights.